#I also enjoy captivity whump | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

forwhump · 2 months ago

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a/n; sorry I’m posting again :’) I’m losing track of what I’ve posted because I’m not posting in any sort of chronological order so if I’ve posted anything about the auction (technically it’s a fundraiser but I’ve always called it the auction) then this is a prequel !!! if I haven’t then >:) enjoy this totally innocuous thing, nothing horrible happens after this at all

also I’ve been losing track of the names I use for the background soldiers since the very beginning so if I ever use a name more than once it’s up to you whether it’s the same guy or two guys w the same name <3 LOL

tw/cw: dehumanization, captivity, mentions of dismemberment, implied rape/noncon, misgendering, transphobia, grievous bodily harm, stabbing

living weapon whumpee, military whump, creepy whumper

Any night that Silas spends with Wren is a good night.

It doesn’t matter how much he’s bleeding, or how much he hurts, if Wren is nearby and Silas is sure that he’s okay, that he’s safe, then it’s a good night. He’s died happy knowing that Wren is safe.

There’s something to be said about the nights, however, that Wren is safe and he’s okay and Silas isn’t bleeding. He isn’t in pain.

Silas is sitting on the floor, back against the side of Wren’s bed, head tipped back against the mattress. Wren is curled up nearby, his hand in Silas’ hair, and he’s reading quietly, something Silas isn’t really following, fixated as he is on the soft sound of his voice, on his strange, Wren accent. Silas has his face turned, cheek against grey sheets, watching Wren as he reads to him, holy, even more inhuman than Silas in his beauty. In the yellow glow of the lamplight, cast from Wren’s desk, his hair glows something golden and his eyelashes cast long shadows on his cheeks.

It’s a good night.

It starts that way, anyway.

“You’re beautiful,” Silas says, because he’s beautiful and Silas is nothing if an honest, maybe blunt person.

Wren looks up at him and he wishes, for a moment, that he could draw like Wren can, because it’s a picture he’d like to remember and he doesn’t think he will. He doesn’t get to remember very much. But Wren smiles at him, soft and sweet, and Silas forgets about anything that doesn’t make him so pleasantly warm it makes him a little uneasy. “You’re not listening to me at all,” he says, “are you?”

“I’m kinda listening to you,” Silas says, “mostly I’m looking at you,” and Wren laughs, pushing his face away with the hand in his hair.

Silas turns his face back to try and bite his fingers and Wren laughs again, a sound that makes Silas feel so warm all over he might flush with it. Wren is beautiful, arguably, all the time — some really ugly things have happened to him, have been done to him, but Wren, at his core, interwoven into his DNA, is so beautiful that Silas sometimes has a hard time looking at him. It’s like staring too hard into surgical lights, too bright, it makes him see the same sort of spots. Wren’s always most beautiful when he laughs.

He doesn’t laugh often — not often enough, anyway. But Silas has gotten good at bringing it out in him, and he’s best at it when he doesn’t try. At the end of his life, when his brain is removed from this thing they’d turned him into and what little is left of him is destroyed, if they bother to ask him what his proudest accomplishment was, this is what he would say. That he got to make Wren laugh.

“Sorry,” Silas says against his knuckles, and he tries to bite him again and Wren bats him away with a smile that makes him dizzy.

“I don’t believe you are,” he says, and Silas can’t help the smile that pulls at his own mouth on one side.

“I’m not,” he agrees, and the way Wren laughs reverberates through his chest.

“I picked this for you because I thought it would hold your attention,” he says, and the way he smiles at Silas would probably give Silas a headache if he let it.

“I want you to read the one that Hal wanted you to read,” he suggests, just because Wren keeps telling him no.

“No,” Wren says, predictable, and Silas smiles against his knuckles. “Hal wasn’t being nice. You won’t like it.”

“I’ll like anything if you read it to me,” Silas says.

Wren has a very peculiar way of looking at him sometimes, soft and sweet, eyebrows pulled together in the middle. He looks at him like that now, and it warms Silas in almost the same way his laughter does, even if he doesn’t quite know what it means. “Not Frankenstein,” he says, but he laughs again when Silas ducks his head and obligingly presses a kiss to his hairline. “You’re cute,” he says with a smile, “but still no. I’d read you anything else.”

“Just not what I want,” he says, and Wren laughs.

“You don’t even know what it is!” He protests, which makes Silas grin, despite his best, most valiant attempts not to. “You just like to argue with me.”

“I like to do everything with you,” Silas says, kissing his knuckles.

Wren snorts out a laugh as he pushes his face away again. “Shut up,” he says, and he says it with a sort of fondness that makes Silas’ chest constrict. He reaches towards him because he can’t help himself, grabbing Wren around the waist and hauling him off the edge of the mattress. Wren laughs again and Silas smiles properly. “What are you doing?”

Silas pulls him into his lap. “You’re not close enough.”

“No?” Wren says, and he puts on the voice he uses when Silas is in trouble but his smile is blinding and he leans his weight into Silas’ chest, arms around his shoulders. Silas’ hands span the entirety of Wren’s back and Wren is looking at him really closely, a little pink across the bridge of his nose. His hand on Silas’ cheek is almost painfully gentle.

He’s so close. “You’re beautiful,” Silas says again, because he is, and it bears repeating. “Even more beautiful up close.”

He’s so close Silas can see perfectly well the way he flushes, pink, beneath a splattering of freckles Silas only ever sees when they’re this close. It makes him grin, which makes Wren laugh again, pinching his cheek. “Shut up.”

But he’s so close. He’s so close that Silas can see freckles splattered across his face, clustered closest across the bridge of his nose and along his hairline. He’s so pale, and his hair is so light, but his eyes are so dark, and they’re huge, and he’s so beautiful but Silas has thought it’s given him a surreal sort of quality, that sometimes he looks even less human than Silas. “More than beautiful,” he says softly, because he doesn’t quite know how to put it into words. “Extraordinary.”

Wren angles his head and his smile takes on an odd sort of softness that never fails to make Silas’ face feel hot. “You’re too sweet to me,” he murmurs.

It’s kind of a dumb thing to say. “I’m in love with you,” he says softly, because he thought as much was obvious.

He can feel the way Wren’s breath hitches against his chest, and that’s all the time he gets before it all goes to hell.

The door is kicked open with a force that makes it sound like it’s been blown to pieces. Wren flinches with his entire body and Silas holds him protectively to his chest without even really thinking about it. A man called London, with an accent Silas doesn’t like, stands in the doorway and his lip curls back from his teeth as he looks down at them, his gun at the ready against his chest.

To Wren, he says, “I thought we told you no dogs in your room.”

“No dogs on the bed,” Silas says, and if his eyebrows lift, challenging, he can’t help it. “I’m not on the bed.”

London’s lip curls back a little further. “Common room,” he barks, accent grating. “Both of you. Let’s go.”

“Why?” Silas says.

“A talking dog,” London remarks, sharp. “One that talks back. How peculiar.”

Silas starts to lift both his middle fingers and Wren quickly pushes his hands back down. “We’re coming,” he says, and he says it in the weird, kind of saccharine voice he only ever uses with the soldiers.

Except London’s gun is still drawn. Except London isn’t wearing the usual black tactile uniform of the soldiers on patrol. He’s wearing a black uniform only Silas has ever seen, because it’s the black uniform the soldiers only ever wear in active combat. Whatever’s waiting for them out there, it isn’t good.

“Wren,” he says softly.

“Silas,” Wren pleads, even quieter. “Please.”

Silas grunts, but Wren had said please so Silas would’ve been obedient if he’d asked him to amputate his other leg. He heaves himself up, into his chair, and follows close at Wren’s back. London falls into step at Wren’s side, and tells him, “beastiality doesn’t suit you.”

Silas says, in his best imitation of London’s accent, “cunt.”

London pivots and hammers the barrel end of his assault rifle into Silas’ hollow eye socket in one, fluid motion. Something in his face, something that feels like his cheekbone cracks under his skin and he grunts in pain.

Wren starts to gasp, “Silas,” but London silences him with a snap of his gloved fingers and a crude point.

“Move,” he snaps.

Wren turns towards him anyway. “Silas —“

From the end of the corridor, from the common room, Hal’s voice says, “Silas?”

Silas stops trying to dry his bleeding eye socket with his sleeve. The throbbing headache of his broken cheekbone dulls to a beat drowned out by the roar of his heartbeat. Being summoned from his room in the middle of the night is one thing. Wren being summoned, too, by a soldier in full combat uniform is another. Hal also being called on —

Wren feels it, too, because his hand finds Silas’ arm and his fingers are shaking. “Hal?”

“Wren? What the fuck is going on?” Hal calls.

London growls, “move.”

Wren looks down at Silas, who turns his head to kiss his sleeve, as soothing as he can manage.

He should’ve grabbed his fuckin’ leg. He’s still new to needing it — to feeling this fuckin’ helpless without it. What’s going to happen to them? How is he going to get Wren out of it with one fuckin’ leg?

Hal isn’t alone in the common room. He’s standing with Robin and June, huddled close in a space crowded with soldiers. Every one of them is dressed in full combat uniform.

Point stands proudest among them, and he looks up with a grin.

Silas groans. He can’t help it.

Wren pinches him through his sleeve. “What is this?” He asks softly, not quite looking at Point, who looks at him intently and like a predator.

With another lecherous grin, he says, “field trip.”

Wren makes a sound that would probably be amused in any other situation. “What?”

“Field trip?” June repeats.

Point holds up a hand, quieting her without looking at her. “We’ve got a long ride ahead of us,” he says. “Let’s move, soldiers.”

And the whole thing is kind of surreal, clouded by Silas’ worsening concussion and broken orbital socket, pooling with blood. Hal, June, and Robin are led down a different corridor than Wren and Silas; Wren and Silas, flanked on all sides by soldiers and Point, are led to a service elevator.

Silas, in all his years in the district, has never been outside. This isn’t really any different.

The service elevator lifts them to a section of the district like any other — dimly lit, chipped grey concrete. Down a corridor, a huge metal grate had been lifted out of the way, opened to the back of an armoured van, doors closed and secured.

It’s Point, of course, that unlatches and opens these doors to the back of the van. It’s crowded with soldiers, with Point’s favourite men, crammed on the benches lined along the inside, standing along the back. Point jumps up into the van and whirls back around with a bizarre sort of flourish. “The girl will ride with me,” he announces. “Animal transport will be up next for the dog.”

Wren’s voice has gone flat, but his accent is probably the thickest Silas has ever heard it when he says, “you’ve gotta be fuckin’ kiddin’ me.”

Point grins with all his teeth and he looks even less human than Silas. “You know I don’t kid ‘bout you, cowgirl,” he says, mocking, and Wren takes a quick step back, knocking into Silas. “I ain’t playin’ with you, neither. Get on up here.” He pats his thighs, beckoning.

“Fuck you,” Wren says, but his voice sounds brittle and his accent sounds even thicker. Silas curls a protective hand around his hip.

“C’mere, girl,” Point says, and whistles, patting his thighs again. “C’mere.”

“Fuck you, I’m not getting in the rape van,” Wren snaps, and Point’s jovial mocking drops off his face. It’s like he’s been wiped clean, replaced by something totally and uncomfortably blank.

“You’ll do whatever I fucking tell you to do,” he deadpans, “or I’ll make your dog bite the bumper and you’ll be forced to watch as I crack his ugly head in half. And then I’ll fuck you anyway, mm?”

He takes a step back down from the van and Wren’s whole body tenses. Silas pulls him close, into his lap, away from Point, who pinches the bridge of his nose. “Don’t start with me, freak,” he says. “I don’t want to kill you while I’m hard. Give me the girl.”

“You’re a fuckin’ weirdo,” Silas tells him, and something twitches in Point’s jaw.

“You’re a failed fucking science experiment,” he snaps. “An crippled fucking dog. A waste of fucking skin, and I fuck your girl better than you do. Give her here.”

Silas raises his eyebrows. “I’ll tell you what, Darren,” he says, and Point’s eye twitches, this time. “Why don’t you go fuck yourself?”

“Silas,” Wren breathes.

Point’s lip curls back from his teeth. He angles his head at a soldier standing close, Haunt, who quickly lifts his gun and shoves the barrel hard against the nape of Silas’ neck.

Whatever, what’s another gun to the head? But Wren gasps, reacts, human, and he’s distracted just long enough that London’s able to grab him by the arms and haul him out of Silas’ lap.

Time warps. Slows down.

Wren screams.

Point grabs him around the waist, lifting him off his feet as he struggles.

Silas reaches for him and he’s stabbed quickly in the throat.

It happens so quickly that his crewneck is already sticking to his chest before it even starts to hurt. Then the pain starts to gurgle at the back of his mouth, sucked into his chest as he takes a wet, choking breath in. Point doesn’t look at him as he opens his jugular, but he looks up with a grin as Silas bleeds, wrenching the buck knife out of Adam’s apple. A rush of blood follows the blade, and Silas’ prison greys are already black, soaked with blood.

He thinks his ears are ringing, but when the blood stops rushing he realizes Wren is screaming and Point is laughing at a garbled, cackling pitch.

“I was waiting for you to try something,” he cackles. “You’re getting predictable, Silas.”

Silas raises a hand to the wound and his shaky fingers dip into the opened meat of his throat, gagging him.

With an ease that makes him gag in much the same way, Point pulls Wren’s hands behind his back and lifts him as he struggles. He throws him into the back of the van, onto the floor between the benches, and as soon as Wren hits the ground, face down, a soldier steps down hard on the back of his head, pinning him. Wren screams bloody murder and it sounds nothing like blood rushing in his ears.

A different soldier peels down Wren’s waistband with the toe of his boot and the way Wren screams echoes between Silas’ ears, bouncing off the inside of his skull. It makes him vomit, but he doesn’t know blood or bile, but most of it seeps from his opened throat and only a mouthful makes it to his tongue, long numb and useless.

Point pats his cheek twice, hard, and Silas vomits into his lap. His chin finds his chest and he doesn’t have the strength to lift it off again. “You’ll follow in the med van,” he says, and Silas hears him in odd bits and pieces. Somebody close is making horrible, wet gasping sounds and he has a really sick feeling it’s him. “And you’ll be good as new by the time we get where we’re going. We got a long ride ahead of us.” Silas can’t see anything except blurry red spots, but he doesn’t need to see Point to know he’s grinning when he says, “your girl’s gonna be in good hands the whole time. Don’t you worry.” He knocks Silas over the back of his head and his laugh is a cackle.

Silas doesn’t see it, but he can hear Point jump into the back of the van. There’s some kind of sound that follows it, skin on skin. Wren sobs loudly and Silas vomits down his chest. “Alright, girl,” he says, loud and theatrical, probably more for Silas than Wren, in a sour, mocking version of Wren’s accent. There’s a creak of the hinges as he grabs at the doors. “Time to get fuckin’.”

The doors close loudly and something in the sound feels like a bullet to the brain, a sudden, sharp explosion of pain that ricochets behind Silas’ eyes.

He doesn’t remember anything else for the next three days.

#i was lying btw MANY horrible things actually happen after this #whump #whump community #whump scenario #whump scenes #whump story #whump stuff #whump writing #whumpblr #whumpee #wren & silas #whump blog #whump series #whump tag #emotional whump #whump things #whump snippet

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alldevilsarehere90 · 1 year ago

Note

May I request #2 and #18 with Daryl pretty please?

(Some Daryl whump if you’re feeling especially generous <3 )

Title: All I'm living for

Pairing: Daryl x female reader

Summary: Just when you finally got the man you wanted, another surprise could threaten your relationship, especially when a herd of walkers is almost at your door step.

Setting: Alexandria (between season 8 and 9)

Warnings: talk of pregnancy and motherhood, anxiety, crying, slightly suggestive, angst and fluff.

Word count: 4k

Prompts: "I'm pregnant ok, that's why I don't want to go on runs and that's why I've been avoiding you." "You can't be serious, that's suicide!"

A/N: I have never done hurt/comfort before, so I hope I've done it well. I did try to condense this one, only to end up making it longer haha. Enjoy!

The feeling of careful eyes on you, suspicious, narrowed and unwavering, and you knew just who they belonged to. Without even looking you knew, you knew he was trying to read you and you also knew you were not making it easy.

You and Daryl had shared a different kind of connection from the very first day you met, one so deep you were aware of the others presence before coming into view. The electricity that charged a room the two of you were in was undeniable. You'd had your time of pretending not to notice, that was…until terminus. You will never forget reuniting with him outside of their captive walls, the sheer relief to have him in front of you, holding him in your arms as he squeezed you in return.

It was then you could no longer lie to yourself about how you felt. Lying to him, however, was surprisingly easy while you lived on the road, constantly moving from place to place, you hadn't had a moment to breathe let alone relax enough to think about it.

Until Alexandria.

Then you spent too much time thinking. Overthinking. The timing was never right, or his mood never seemed to fit, or sometimes you just couldn't face the thought of rejection and losing his friendship in the process.

Then came the saviours.

That's when everything changed, you no longer cared about being embarrassed or unrequited feelings.

When he was captured by Negan you were filled with regret and it was all consuming. If only he'd known how I felt about him. If only I'd told him before this.

When he returned, he was a different person. It took a long while for him to open up to you and tell you his story. He needed time, that much was obvious but in this world we didn't have the luxury of that before something else needed our attention or our fight.

You'd confessed one night, when you found him asleep in his basement room having a traumatic nightmare. His body jolted and his face contorted in pain, it hurt your heart in ways you couldn't even describe, in ways you didn't even think possible. He whispered your name and your hands were on him, gently stroking to rouse him from his horror.

He'd awoken with a start, eyes darting to all the dark corners in the room, reaching for his knife when he saw your silhouette.

"Daryl, it's just me." You said, hands up as you stepped into the moonlight seeping in through his small window.

His fright dissipated as he dropped the knife; clattering against the wooden floor. The tears in his eyes had you closing the space between you and wrapping him in your arms, he clung to you while he cried.

That was the night you could no longer keep the words inside you.

His response had told you everything. He made love to you that night, drawing his name from your lips numerous times until the yellow of the sun streamed through his window.

Since then, passionate kisses and delicate caresses only when you were alone, along with whispered words you'd only dreamt of…until a week ago.

You'd been off, that much was obvious to everyone in Alexandria. Knowing Daryl, he was probably obsessing over what he'd said or done to upset you, you could practically see it ticking over in his mind constantly and it killed you. Knowing it was you making him feel that way, knowing you were making him doubt himself, something he definitely didn't need any more help with but right now, you couldn't get out of your own anxiety; you couldn't see past it, as selfish as it was.

The constant feeling of wading through mud, everything seemed harder and your mind felt slower than ever, you were drowning in it and nobody could pull you out of it. Especially Daryl and that was a first. He was the person you spoke to about everything but this…something this big and you couldn't bring yourself to tell him.

Making the mistake of glancing over at the group discussing the herd of walkers travelling in this direction, only to meet his gaze and for a moment, you see a flash of hope in his eyes as he straightens up, rigid on his seat on the steps of the porch of your shared house.

Your body flinches but you force a smile as you look away again.

"Hey," a voice sounds behind you, making you jump.

Looking over your shoulder as you continue sharpening your knives, you're met with Aaron's sincere and concerned face.

"Hey." You reply weakly, head down and focus back down on your task, relishing in the high pitched scratch the blade makes against your stone.

He slowly squats down next to you making avoiding his questioning gaze now impossible. "What's going on?"

You couldn't bring yourself to look at him, the tears pricked the corners of your eyes, making your vision blurred but you stayed attentive to your knives. "Nothing."

Sighing he placed a gentle hand on your leg, the notion a comfort you didn't want, knowing you would crumble right here in front of everyone. "You're not fooling me, I know you and I know when there's something troubling you," his thumb rubs small circles on your thigh, in his usual caring manner. "why don't you come over to my place and we can talk? And whatever it is, I'll be here to support you however I can."

A lone tear fell onto your lap as you were careful to keep your eyes down. Aaron must have noticed as he gently took your hand in his and pulled you up discreetly, leading you towards his house.

You were closest with Aaron, second to Daryl, he was someone you trusted with your life but this wasn't just about you. How could you share this with him when you haven't spoken to the one person who needs to hear it the most?

As soon as your back’s turned to Daryl and the rest of your group, you swipe at the warm tear that escaped, leaving a wet trail down your cheek in its wake.

Sitting in Aaron's house, leaning back into the couch and feeling yourself relax slightly from the familiar comfort, worry evident in his eyes as he took the seat opposite you. "What's going on?"

Chewing your bottom lip, debating where to even start, not sure you can even find the words to explain how you feel. You're more than aware of how you should feel rather than how you do and yet, here you are, unable to even understand this pit that has formed, weighted and heavy inside you.

"Is it Daryl? Did something happen between you two?"

You swallow the nervous dry patch scratching away at the back of your throat. "You could say that," mumbling in response.

Leaning forward, arms resting on his knees, eager to hear what's on your mind. "Did you tell him how you feel?"

You could see it, the excitement blooming under the surface that he was trying so hard to keep restrained and to put him out of his misery by nodding in response.

"And?" His eyes wide with eagerness, almost cartoon like and under any other circumstances you would have laughed. "Did he upset you?"

Letting out an amused sigh as the idea was ridiculous in itself. "No, far from it."

He smiled, seeming satisfied and leaning back against the chair. "Didn't I tell you he had feelings for you? You two are made for eachother."

He registered your watering eyes and immediately joined you on the sofa, taking both your hands in his, waiting patiently for you to continue.

You swallow the nerves you feel rising in your throat like bile, burning your insides as they creep upwards.

"It's me, I'm messing things up, not Daryl."

The tears fall freely now, unable to ebb the steady stream down your face. "He's amazing and I don't deserve him for how I'm making him feel right now."

He rubs your back softly as you speak through your sobs. Regaining some ounce of your control in order to choke out the words that made you want to vomit. "I–," your stomach lurched at the thought of even saying those words. "I–," you sat up straighter assessing the churning of your stomach.

"I think I'm gonna be sick." Your hand went straight to your mouth as Aaron managed to hand you a bin before your breakfast came up and out of you, your stomach pulling, retching until there was nothing left to bring up.

You hadn't noticed you were alone until Aaron walked back in with some tissues and a glass of water, to which you down greedily, feeling a thirst like never before.

Kneeling down in front of you rubbing your arms, he looks you over. "Are you…are you pregnant?"

You nod, gently pushing the bin with your foot, wanting it as far away from you as your leg could reach before it had a chance to turn your stomach again.

"Have you told Daryl?"

There it was, the loaded question you couldn't face. Your eyes met his; guilt and desperation radiating from them, telling him the answer before you had a chance to speak.

"Why not?" He frowned, sliding closer to you, holding your knees. It wasn't lost on you how he knew you responded best to touch. It made you feel safe and that was what you needed to open up.

Shrugging, not really knowing yourself and painfully aware of the cop out response you were giving. "I'm scared."

"Listen, Daryl would be a great father and–,"

"I'm not scared of that." You almost scoff, the idea of him being anything other than that is absolutely preposterous. "I know he'd want this baby, and I know he'd be an amazing father."

You stop, taking a shaky breath, pulling the courage from inside you to speak the truth, "I'm scared of bringing a baby into a world like this, of being terrified all the time that something will happen to it, of being so afraid if something happens to me or Daryl and where will that leave the baby. People die all the time now. Look at Glenn and Abraham, Sasha…Carl. What if we come across another group like the saviours. What if I can't protect this baby?" Another pause and when you next speak your voice comes out like a haunting whisper, "what if I'm an awful mother?"

You can't help but stand, pacing across the room as thoughts race into your head. Some old offenders and new. Your hands find anchorage in your hair as if that will stop your head pounding with unanswered questions.

"How can I fight walkers off with a screaming baby? You can't, it just goes against everything nature is throwing at us right now. I don't want to go out on runs, I don't want to leave these walls because it's not safe enough, how am I supposed to be useful anymore?"

Your feet finally find pause as your eyes search Aaron's face, pleading for some kind of resolution of all your worries.

He takes a few tentative steps towards you. "And you're worried you'd be a bad mother?"

Taking both your hands in his, he gives them a gentle squeeze. "You're already protecting this baby, you're already being her mother."

That silenced your wild thoughts for a moment. Every decision you've made recently was putting this baby at the forefront of your mind, even if that meant letting others down, that didn't matter anymore, only the safety of your baby and yet, you've failed to realise that until now.

While you processed his words, something else stood out to you. "Her?"

He smiled, "I can just picture Daryl as a girl dad, that's all."

Your heart swelled in your chest, fit to burst at the image of Daryl holding a little mini you. A little girl with your hair and his eyes. The scene flickered behind your eyelids like a movie, him smiling down at her while holding her tiny body, making his hands seem even bigger. As a child, teaching her how to track and hunt but letting her put makeup on him or play dolls with her. Then, as a teenager, dealing with hormones and mood swings and trying to fiercely protect her from heartbreak. The image had excitement blooming inside you.

"Listen to me," Aaron grew serious again, "it's terrifying, I know. I'm scared for Gracie constantly and she's not even biologically mine. But when I come home to her and she's safe, that's all that matters."

Aaron had taken to fatherhood like a duck to water, even whilst grieving for the loss of his beloved…Eric.

"And look at our family here," he continued, "…they are always there to help and support me since Eric…" he trailed off and your heart panged for the sadness in his eyes, forcing a smile he continued. "Look how you are with Gracie and Judith, you protect them so fiercely, I know there isn't anything you wouldn't do for them."

You'd die to keep them safe, without question, like many others in your family would too. The support system you were lucky enough to have was incredible.

Suddenly, you stood here feeling rather foolish. Here this man in front of you was raising a baby on his own after the tragic death of his partner and here you are with the man you've wanted for years, ready and willing in front of you, plus the gift of his baby but almost throwing it all away. And for what? Because you're scared. God, you wanted to slap yourself and tell yourself to grow up.

You have everything most people want in life and yet, you're over here crying and worrying about things that you can't really change, a world you have no choice but to make the best out of, instead of being with the man you love and sharing this happy news with him.

You had the opportunity to be a complete family unit, how many people in this world got the chance at that?

Aarons eyes locked with yours, his wide and full of meaning, "Whether you realise it or not, you're already a mother."

Those words made your heart pound violently in your chest with purpose and validation.

He was right.

You felt a lot brighter about this unexpected pathway your life had now taken and ready for the next step of talking to Daryl.

With a freshly splashed face you returned to the house you shared with some of your family members, Daryl's eyes on you instantly, chewing his lip as he anxiously played with his pocket knife.

Rick glanced round at you, a solemn look on his face you'd come to know well.

"Just the person I was waiting for," he put an arm around your shoulder as you joined them. "Listen, I need your help, we've got a herd coming our way, the biggest yet."

All previous positivity diminished hearing those words. You knew you would all have a part to play in keeping Alexandria safe, the cost was unavoidable but who would be the one to pay the most?

"We have a plan…"

You looked up at him sensing what he wasn't yet saying, "but?"

A slight grimace contorted his face, "but, you're not gonna like it."

You couldn't help your eyes rolling, wishing he would just get to the point. The anticipation was too much to bear, especially with your stomach churning again, through nerves or nausea you weren't sure. "Spill it."

He informs you of his plan. He had men out there building barriers ready and hoping their faith in Rick wasn't misled.

Who was staying behind to fight them off at the gate? Who was going outside the walls to try and keep them in formation- you apparently? And who was going to try and lure them away? You knew the answer to the latter before the words had left Rick's mouth. Anxiety and anger bubbling and ready to erupt at any moment.

"Daryl's got the bike, he's offered to lead them away, as many miles as he can get them before turning round and coming back."

Your head shot over in his direction.

"You can't be serious, that's suicide!" Your voice was loud enough that it shocked even you.

Daryl's eyes were on you, a hint of relief before he concealed them to his usual blank glare.

"Ain't nuthin I ain't done before." He mumbled.

"Why do you have to do it alone? What if something happens to the bike? With all of them following you?" You were tense, your body coiled ready to spring into protect mode for him.

His response to shrug infuriated you fiercely, lighting a fire in your belly, something that must have been obvious as Rick's arm around you dropped and he gave you some much needed space.

"Can I talk to you?" You directed at Daryl, sharply. "In private."

You stormed up the stairs of the house, hearing his slow footsteps follow behind and stomped down to his basement room, less chance of being heard in there.

"So now you wanna talk to me, huh?" He says kicking the shut behind him. "This what I have to do, to get your attention?"

Guilt stabbed you in the gut, nausea rearing its ugly head again but you pushed it aside needing to be brave and needing to do the right thing.

"I'm sorry." You started with simply, a look of surprise flashed in his eyes as he took a step towards you. "I'm sorry I've been…off. I was too in my head and too scared to talk to you about it because once I did then it would be real."

He looked down at his feet, face hiding behind his messy bangs, nervously chewing his lip, a sight that made you want to grab him in your arms and never let him go. "If ya changed ya mind 'bout us, it's fine, I get it."

You froze, heart aching that that was his first conclusion, before closing the distance, cupping his face in your hands and forcing him to look at you. "My feelings for you will never change, Daryl Dixon, don't you dare suggest otherwise."

He nods timidly, fighting a small smile before his brow furrows. "Have I upset ya?"

Shaking your head. "No. You haven't done anything wrong."

"Then why ain't yer spoke to me all week? Yer ain't been near me or wanted me near yer."

The tears pricked your eyes, feeling like the worst person in the world for making him feel this way. He did not deserve this, he was the last person to deserve to feel like that.

"I'm pregnant ok, that's why I don't want to go on runs and that's why I've been avoiding you." You blurted out quickly before you had the chance to be distracted or interrupted.

His eyes popped as his frame stood frozen, unwavering and silent.

"I was scared," you continued, attempting to ease the shock. "and I didn't know how to tell you. It's all happened so fast." You sighed, the weight of the world removing itself from your tired shoulders. "I'm sorry for making you feel like it was something you'd done."

His hands came up to either side of your face, gently holding you in place, thumbs softly stroking your cheeks. "Are yer sure?"

You nod, eyes moving back and forth between his, "I found a pregnancy test from one of the stores on our last run and did it as soon as I got back."

Watching the light of sheer happiness in his gaze illuminate his entire face made you exasperated with yourself for neglecting to tell him this long. How could you ever not want this man?

His hands still cradling your face pulled you close and his mouth was on yours, gentle yet urgent, with one arm wound around your waist holding you close, bodies pressed up against each other.

You had missed his hands on you, the warmth he radiated and his body close to yours. Heart hammering wildly, drumming against your ribcage so hard you were sure it was trying to escape to join Daryl's as one.

Breaking away only to catch your breath, foreheads still touching, your hands found their way around his neck, keeping him as close to you as you could.

"'m gonna be a dad." He said quietly, a heart wrenching smile stretching across his face, a rare sight that you bathed in when it was present.

"You're going to be the best daddy."

You knew hearing that meant more to him than anything else due to his relationship with his own father.

His eyes sparkled as his gaze clicked with yours again, the intensity of it making you weak in the knees.

"I love yer."

Breathing hitching, heart fluttering hearing those words from him for the first time, even though you knew it, it had never been uttered out loud.

"Now, how are you gonna tell me something like that when we have urgent work to do," you stroked a finger down his face, relishing the way his body shivered in reaction, "and I can't make love to you exactly the way I want to."

He kissed you again more fiercely, growling as his mouth explored yours like a starved wild man.

"I'm yours as soon as I'm back." He rasped.

Reality came crashing down on you then, hitting you like a ton of bricks, suffocating you under their weight. "You're not doing this alone. I mean it, this time."

He nodded. "Fine, but ya ain't coming. I need yer here, behind these walls, keeping our baby safe."

You're about to put up a fight but nod, knowing it's pointless to argue with him. Besides, he wouldn't be able to focus on his job if he was worrying about you.

You would do what you could behind these walls unless it was vital.

You both head out onto the porch with the others, while Daryl goes over to Rick you take a seat on the steps next to Rosita, who mouths, "you ok?" Nodding and smiling in return, you squeeze the hand she puts atop yours.

Watching as Daryl whispers to Rick, his eyes meet yours with a flash of surprise followed by warmth, before composing himself somewhat. Clasping Daryl's shoulder before pulling him into a quick hug and turning back to the group.

Rosita turns in your direction but you ignore it and keep your eyes on Rick.

"Alright, I need someone to take a car and help Daryl lead the walkers away?" Rick asked, turning back towards you all.

"I'll do it." Aaron's arm shoots up and instant relief washes through you. The two people you trust the most helping each other out there, you felt much more comfortable about the situation now and didn't feel as sick knowing they would be out there together.

Rick calls your name, regaining your attention. "You'll be here on the wall with Gabriel, you're the best shooters we have. Do what you can from here to hold our walls."

You nod in agreement, before everyone breaks away to start getting ready.

Daryl's by your side in an instant, arm winding around your waist and pulling you to him. Your arms make their way around his neck as you memorise his face, every line, scar and curve.

"I'll be back soon, ok?" He says quietly.

"Make sure you are." Standing on your tiptoes you kiss him passionately, relishing the way he tastes against your mouth, not caring that your family were watching.

"I love you." You whisper against his lips.

His answering smile makes your stomach flutter as he gives you one last kiss on the forehead before heading over to his bike.

"Stay safe." You call out, hands clasped tensilly together in front of you.

"Always." He replied, turning around to face you and walking backwards. "Make sure you stay safe!"

You lifted two fingers up and crossed them over each other, making that silent promise to him, one you would do your all to keep.

A hand squeezed your shoulder and when you saw Aaron's face next to you another pang of sadness and anxiety pulled your heart strings.

"Stay safe, and thank you for going with him." You whispered as he pulled you into a hug.

"We'll both be home soon." His gaze turned serious as he held you firmly in front of him, "be careful."

He heads off towards the car, returning your attention to Daryl, who's mounted his bike and whose eyes are already on you. His stare fierce and yet loving, the way that man was capable of conveying everything he needed to in just one look never failed to surprise you.

A lump the size of a golf ball sat in your throat as you watched him start the engine, giving one last look back at you before he begrudgingly lifts his foot off the ground and let the bike take him. You watch the wings on his back carry him off until the gate closes.

Your chest felt empty, a giant hole still beating but with nothing inside, until he returns, bringing your heart back with him.

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doumidas-whumps · 3 months ago

Text

whump intro!

Helloo! I’ve always loved whump (even before I knew what it was) and I’ve been lurking in the whump community for… a few years now. o_o

I’ve kicked around the idea of making a dedicated whump blog for some time, but now I’ve finally decided to do it.

name: george (you can also call me doumidas or just doum) pronouns: he/him age: adult favorite apple: honeycrisp :)

Expect me to be reblogging lots but also posting some of my own things! I have a handful of whump OCs that have been living in my brain for a while now. I draw better than I write (so whether or not I will post any of my writing remains to be seen) but you can definitely expect to see some art from me.

Here are some of my favorite whumpy things (below the cut):

torture :D

scars

restraints

kidnapping

drowning and choking

branding and tattoos

passing out

captivity whump

undercover whump

pet whump (I do enjoy the BBU)

nsfwhump

Here are some whumpee/whumper/caretaker tropes I like:

whumpees with powers/magic

whumpees who are just regular guys

role switching (ex. whumper becomes whumpee)

multiple whumpees, whumpers, and caretakers

whumpees who “deserve” to be hurt

conditioned whumpees

inexperienced caretakers

nuanced whumpers

carewhumpers

And here are some slightly more specific whumpy things I like:

language barriers

hammering nails in places they don’t belong

choppin’ off fingers (or toes)

black eyes and bloody noses

broken glass and barbed wire

improvised whump (y’know just with whatever you have lying around the house)

Looking forward to getting a little more involved in the whump community :D

#whump intro #whump community #whumpblr #whump #whump introduction #whump blog #whump art

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inevitably-johnlocked · 8 months ago

Note

Hey Steph,

I am in the mood for some really long fics. Preferably not AU as I find those hard to get into. Although, like always, I am open to your all your suggestions.

Loves Seven.

Hi Lovely!!

Ahhh, I've a TONNE of long fics, and a lot of them AREN'T AUs! I'm gonna use your ask as an excuse to post a new list, and please check out the other pages linked below! I label if a fic is an AU or not, so just skip over those if you're not up for them! Enjoy!

NOVEL LENGTH FICS: 50 to 100K Pt 4

See also:

Novella Length Fics: 20 to 25K (Oct 2020)

Novella Length Fics: 25 to 50K (Aug. 2019)

Novella Length Fics: 25 to 50K Pt 2 (July 2022)

Novel Length Fics: 50 to 100K (Nov. 2018)

Novel Length Fics: 50 to 100K Pt 2 (May 2020)

Novel Length Fics: 50 to 100K Pt 3 (Jul 2022)

Novel Length Fics: 100K+ w. (May 2019)

Novel Length Fics: 100K+ w. Pt 2 (Aug 2020)

Novel Length Fics: 100K+ w. Pt 3 [MFL’s] (Dec 2020)

Long Domestic Johnlock (50K+ w.) (March 2023)

Smut-Free Fics Over 50K (Aug 2019)

Top 20 Fave 40K+ w. Fics (April 2017)

Long S3/Post-S3 Fics (20K+ w.) [Apr 2020]

Hurt / Comfort Pt. 4: 50K+ Words Pt. 1

Anxious / Worried Sherlock Pt 2 (Over 20K w.)

Long Pining Fics (50K+) [March 2023]

G,T, & M-Rated Johnlock for Newcomers Pt. 3 (20K+)

Genius is a Star Whose Light (is Soon to Sink in Endless Night) by LoloLolly (M, 51,812 w., 11 Ch. || Canon Compliant Through TFP/S4 Is Canon, Aftermath of Serbia, Alternating POV, Established / New Relationship, Parentlock with Rosie, Explicit Torture, Mentions of Sherlock’s PTSD, Mentions of Human Trafficking, References to Child Abuse, Violence, Kidnapping, Captivity, Angst with Happy Ending, Fluff, Case Fic, BAMF / Soldier John, Sherlock Whump, Mycroft and John Work Together, Marriage Proposal, Autistic Sherlock, Lestrade Finds Out, Polyglot Sherlock) – Sherlock had buried the past. Shut Serbia away in the attic of his mind palace. Muddy footprints at a heinous crime scene, however, have led him right back to old enemies. And right back to captivity. For God’s sake, Mycroft. Part 2 of the Earthly Pomp (Is But a Dream) series

Spare Parts by Raina_at (E, 63,497 w., 10 Ch. || 24th Century / Futurism AU || Post TRF, Pre-TRF Relationship, Case Fic, Mutual Pining, Estrangement, Reconciliation, Science Fiction, Reunion, Nightmares, Angry John, Cybernetic John, Emotional Discussions / Heart to Heart, POV John, Scars, Past Drug Use, Forehead Touching, Emotional Lovemaking, Kissing, Apologies, Kidnapping, Rescue Mission, BAMF John, Bed Sharing, Top Sherlock) – Two years ago, Sherlock Holmes jumped off the roof of New London Hospital. Two months ago, he walked into John's clinic as if no time had passed at all. John hasn't seen him since. But then Sherlock knocks on John's door with a case he can't say no to, and while figuring out why the biggest manufacturer or synthetic limbs in the System is going after veterans, they also need to find out whether there's a way to fix what's broken between them. Part 1 of Realigning Gravity

Swallow the Night by ArwaMachine (E, 87,873 w., 15 Ch. || TSo3/Stag Night Fix It, TAB/S4 Divergence, Toplock, Mutual Pining, PWP, Drunk / Public Sex, Anal Fingering/Sex, Alcohol-Induced Amnesia, Everyone Knows Except Them, Emotional Love Confession, Demisexual Sherlock, Internalized Homophobia [John], Parentlock with Rosie, First Kiss, Drug Relapse, Infidelity, Texting, Masturbation, Oblivious John, Emotional Love Making, Angst with Happy Ending, Dreams and Nightmares) – “Do you know how long,” John panted, his cheek scraping against the wall, looking back at Sherlock through half-closed eyes, “I’ve wanted this?” Sherlock pressed himself against John’s back, biting at John’s ear. “Not nearly as long as I have,” he whispered.

Bakers with Benefits by Raina_at (E, 88,130 w., 14 Ch. || Great British Bake Off AU || Strangers to Lovers, Switchlock, Friends with Benefits, Mentions of Alcoholism / Past Drug Use, Banter, Flirting, Fluff, Light Angst, Semi-Public Sex, Past Sherlock/Victor, Mutual Pining, POV Sherlock, Obsessive Sherlock, John’s Bum) – Sherlock Holmes has a successful YouTube baking channel, but what he really wants is his own bakery. When an old friend sends him a call for the very first Great British Bake Off, he seizes the opportunity to finally win a sponsor for his bakery. Here's the plan: Win Bake Off, get the bakery, don't fall in love with the handsome Army doctor at the neighbouring station. Easy.

Fade To Black by twistedthicket1 (M, 93,389 w., 29 Ch. || Split Personality Disorder / DID, Action, Romance, Violence, Implied Rape/Non-Con, BAMF John, Fluff and Angst, Baskerville, Human Experimentation, PTSD, Implied Self Harm, Trauma Amnesia, Past Child Sexual Abuse, Protective Sherlock, Smoking, Meddling Mycroft, Past Victor/Sherlock, Gay Sherlock, Sherlock’s Past, First Kiss/Time) – John Watson believes one day he'll just fade. That he'll drown in the black spaces of his mind, and that one day he will no longer exist. It's always been like this, the dark spots marking out moments in his life he can't remember. Where for just a moment he's someone else. Having a Dissociative identity disorder, he can't even be entirely sure he's really who he says he is. Then he meets Sherlock Holmes. A brilliant detective who when he looks at you can read your entire life story. John is immediately fascinated and afraid, half-wondering if maybe Sherlock can see the other personalities in him and half terrified of the thought of him finding out. Becoming his flatmate seems at once to be a wonderful and horrible idea. Yet as John's Blackouts become more and more severe and his other personalities begin to truly awaken and show themselves with Sherlock's help, the two soon discover that sometimes even the kindest person can harbour a demon best left untouched inside of them. Because not all of John's other personalities play nicely and some may be hiding secrets best left undisturbed...

#steph replies #johnlock fic recs #long fics #my fic recs #50 to 100K

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oliversrarebooks · 11 months ago

Text

Masterlist

Writer Intro

Hey, I'm Demyx.

My favorite whump tropes tend towards the psychological: hypnosis and brainwashing, captivity, medical and lab whump, drugging and sedatives, and altered states. I also love whump involving sickness, injuries and hospitals, as well as hurt/comfort.

I enjoy writing whump that's on the gentle side and mixed with comfort, often with ASMR-ish qualities.

I especially like to write about the supernatural and am fond of vampires, faefolk, and cyberpunk dystopia.

I consider my blog SFW 18+. While my content is intended for adults, there will not be any explicit smut and only occasional gore.

the rare bookseller and the vampire auction

The story of Oliver, a seller of rare books who is kidnapped and sold at a high-end auction for vampires to purchase thralls.

18+. Contains vampires, mind control, hypnotic inductions, captivity / gilded cage, blood drinking, abuse, violence, torture, Stockholm syndrome, slavery / human auction, psychological whump.

Rare Bookseller Masterlist

Rare Bookseller Side Stories and AUs Masterlist

other works

Featuring hypnotic inductions, drugging, hurt/comfort and much more.

Other Works Masterlist

My ask box is open as well, if you'd like to ask the characters anything or talk about whump tropes.

#masterlist

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whumpsoda · 10 months ago

Note

AWWWHTHE TWO WHUMPEES ARE SO CUTE

I raise to the anon that raised to the other anon to potentially make the more aware whumpee be threatened by their whumper to be turned into the more thralled whumpee cause they’re easier to deal with. or maybe they have a trigger word that causes them to melt into that state? then the next play date it’s even cuter cause they’re both barely functioning

plus the vampires notice that a, whumpee’s get into way less trouble after a play date and they seem calmer and less lonely. b, the whumper’s are getting closer as a result of the play dates.

WOHEO Masterlist

This sort of fits with what you said but also this is kind of just what your ask inspired :D

But I’m gonna admit I really like this piece (it’s so late who knows how I’ll feel abt it in the morning) and I’m so happy to write Nevan again :3

Taglist- @softvampirewhump

cw- vampire whumper, human whumpee, hypnosis/brainwashing, humiliation, pet whump, servant whumpee multiple whumpers??

———————————————————————

Nevan stood, posture rigid and trained, just as his master liked it. He kept still and unmoving, the only exception remaining being the subtle rise and fall of his chest, but even that was predominantly covered by his newest, delicately cream colored dress. His hands stayed locked upon his abdomen, fingers neatly intertwined, and his expression remained relaxed and blank.

He didn’t know how long he’d been there. He didn’t need to think about it. He didn’t need to think. Master would call for him when he was needed.

He waited and waited. He didn’t mind. If he had no use, Nevan stood still and pretty like Master wanted.

His eyelids soon fluttered open, triggered by his master’s ringing bell that instantly worked to pull him from a deep and submersive trance. His vision settled, shifting out of a muddled blur, so he could quickly gloss over the dimly lit kitchen.

The ring of the bell, no matter how faint and far away, to Nevan was almost as loud as an airhorn beside his ear. It took easy hold of his cobweb filled, mushy brain.

Each step to follow the beautiful noise was planned and graceful, like a perfectly programmed robot. Various voices full of joy and laughter graced his ears as Nevan neared, still drowned out by the captivating bell. For a smidge of a second his glossy eyes took in the group of joyous vampires, before turning to Darius.

Nevan stopped by the vampire’s side dutifully, positioned perfectly. “You called for me, sir?” He questioned, head tipped as his glassy eyes stuck to the floor.

Darius grinned pridefully to his friends, raising his glass to the thrall. “Refills for everyone, pet!” He demanded, slurring just a smidge at the end, and a few of the guests cheered in delight. Nevan shivered with glee from the mere sound of his master’s alluring voice.

“Of course, master.” Nevan swiftly stepped to the glistening silver platter that sat amidst the group, elegantly lifting a glimmering bottle of precious champagne.

Conversation continued to whirl around him as Nevan made his way to each seat, filtering through one ear and out the other. Only a couple of them poked or prodded at Nevan, either inspecting him or jokingly attempting to break his intense focus.

Liquid streamed from the opening of the bottle as he tilted it, the beverage bubbling and droplets splashing to the sides of each cup.

The vampires easily ignored him, but a good boy like Nevan didn’t mind. He was but a servant, fulfilling his duty to ensure Master and his friends fully enjoyed themselves.

The last of the refills was Adrastus, and Nevan’s heart pulsed with excitement all on its own as he neared them. Just their presence was enough to cloud his mind in a sip of extra pleasure, considering how powerful they were.

Nevan set the bottle of alcohol back to the platter with a tap, before sliding his hands to the ceramic teapot next to it. He tenderly gripped it, turning to the vampire, who greeted him with a heart melting smile.

“Hello, dear.” They held out their cup to him, their voice sending a chill of bliss trailing down his spine.

Nevan could feel their eyes on him as he watchfully poured their fill, fighting back the urge to allow his drooping eyes to fall to a close. “Thank you, sweet.”

“My, my pleasure…sir.” Nevan replied, subconsciously leaning toward their enticing aura. Adrastus continued grinning, leaning intently toward the thrall as well.

“So polite.” They stroked an icy hand affectionately down his face, then clutched his chin, effectively pursing his lips and tugging him closer. His breath hitched as Adrastus looked him over, shifting his head slightly each way to get a good look. They grinned wide with satisfaction, their pale cheeks pillowing and squinting their mesmerizing eyes.

Looping a finger through the tight cream collar strapped around his neck, they yanked him further, Adrastus’ face level with Nevan’s neck. He whimpered involuntarily, head swimming as their breath gently warmed his exposed chest. Nevan drowsily inched his head to the side, happy to expose more skin.

Please, please, please!

Adrastus slipped their finger out with a sharp laugh, causing Nevan to hazily flinch back. “How eager you are!” All eyes turned to them, and a flicker of dazed embarrassment tainted Nevan’s cheeks as the vampire chuckled. “Unfortunately I’m not your master, darling. Return to him and maybe he’ll be kind enough to fulfill that wish!” They giddily shooed him off.

His head began to clear just a bit as he stepped back, their spell loosening and his original orders resurfacing. Nevan set the pot back to its respective spot, and realizing he’d completed his master’s orders he strode to make a soft exit and return to his station.

The gazes of several vampires followed as he went to make his exit. He nearly passed right by Darius, before a forceful hand gripped right above his elbow. Any movement quickly ceased, halting him to a stop, and Nevan’s glossy stare never wavered as his master spoke.

“Seems you’ve taken a liking to Nevan.” Darius sneered, but at Adrastus. “I can see why, though. I think I’ve finally perfected him.”

“Well of course I have, Darius. You’ve seemed to have molded him exceptionally well, even better than the last I saw you two!” They exclaimed, before reaching down to the floor by their side. “But of course there’s no contest between him and my precious little puppy.” Adrastus cooed, shuffling their own thrall’s shaggy curls.

Malak purred, leaning into the touch of his loving master, all the while practically hidden away in a swaddle of plush blankets.

“Well you are a conditioning professional, aren’t you?” Darius joked.

Unmoving and ready, Nevan wondered when his master would supply him his next order.

Adrastus chuckled, giving Malak one more itch to the scalp. “Exactly! But, really, I’m certainly glad you’ve brought him to your liking. You always have been so particular with your thralls.”

Darius sighed, leaning back in his seat. “I know, I know, I can’t seem to help it. I really did want to allow him to retain more of his lucidity and intelligence, but he just wasn’t good enough.”

Nevan’s face fell with shame. He’d been bad. Even if now he couldn’t remember it, he’d disappointed his master, and for that he could never be forgiven.

“With a couple more conditioning sessions, he turned out perfectly, though.” Darius boasted, smugly.

The vampire tugged lightly on his thrall’s arm, prompting Nevan to turn and face him. “Perfectly obedient, perfectly thoughtless. A bit of a husk, if you will.” Darius bragged, meeting his thrall’s gaze with his own enchanting, magnetizing, beautiful eyes.

“A pretty thing, too!” One of the unfamiliar guests chimed in, to Darius’ delight. Even with a devoid expression, Nevan was silently beaming at the compliment.

Adrastus huffed a chuckle. “You always have liked them pretty, haven’t you?”

“Well what’s the point in getting an ugly servant? They’d ruin the look of the whole house!” Darius declared, taking a brisk swig of his drink. “One of his jobs is practically just looking nice. Like a little statue when I don’t need him.”

The other vampires nodded in acceptance. “Nevan has many jobs, though.” Darius wickedly grinned, turning to his thrall. He looked to Nevan, waiting enthusiastically for the thrall to fulfill his unfortunately not verbalized wishes.

Buffering for a moment, the human made no moves, until he noticed his master lick his glittering fangs. Nevan trembled with mind melting pleasure, his upper body obediently dropping toward his master. Head cotton filled and buzzing, he craned his neck as far as he could manage, sticking his flesh eagerly in his master’s face.

Master had already fed from him that night! He only took extra when Nevan was extraordinarily good! He beamed heavenly with a dreamy eyed smile.

Darius boisterously laughed, spittle flying from his open mouth, cutting right through Nevan’s bewitched spell. Other vampires giggled as well, and in a daze Nevan’s face twisted with a hint of confusion.

“Like you said Adrastus, eager. He’s often a bit of an idiot, though.” Darius snickered, smiling to his guests. “Down, Nevan.”

The thrall dropped instantly to the hardwood flooring, knees bumping with a stinging thud. Darius looked down to him expectantly, and Nevan stared back with puzzlement until he noticed the vampire’s legs. Darius wiggled his limbs, lifting them above the floor and resting them in the air.

Nevan slowly came to realize his mistake, thankful his master wasn’t more brutal with his insults as he usually was. He eagerly crawled toward the front of his master’s chair, stationing himself under Darius’ stretched legs.

Darius plopped them to his arched back, ankles rolling across his spine. The vampire’s pants tickled Nevan’s skin, goosebumps raising in delighted hordes.

Vampire laughs and claps enveloped the room, and Nevan could sense Darius relishing in the attention. “You did not! You really use him as a foot rest?” Adrastus exclaimed, poorly hiding their enjoyment of the scene.

Darius answered smugly. “Don’t be so dramatic! He likes it, don’t you, bud?” He folded over, reaching down to stroke Nevan’s silky locks.

Nevan mindlessly leaned into the gentle touch, savoring the gift of contact Darius so rarely gifted him.

“Good boy.” Darius praised, resting back comfortably in his seat, his hand slipping away.

Another vampire quickly jumped in, grabbing the full attention of the group, leaving Nevan to devotedly hold his form.

He didn’t know how long he was there. Palms and knee caps burrowing into the hard floor, straining his joints and muscles. Fuzzed sound dancing around his ears, not quite making their way into his clogged mind. But it was okay.

Master would call him when he was needed.

#asks :)#whump #whumpblr #pet whump #whump writing #mind control whump #my writing #brainwashing #vampire #vampire whump #vampire whumper #servant whumpee #hypnotized whumpee #hypnosis whump #Nevan oc #Darius oc #Adrastus oc #Malak oc #we only have each other

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whump-in-the-closet · 5 months ago

Note

I thoroughly enjoyed your medic story! Always a fan when the whole team gets a piece 😂 Do you think you might continue it someday?

Also, if you have the motivation, I beg of you to please write the western one! I feel like there's never quite enough outlaw whump

Have a great day today!

Hey thanks! I'd probably continue it if someone specifically requested it...I just have issues with pacing in a story if I'm being honest lmao

Anyway, western whump! I was very excited about this ask >:)

cw: branding, gun wound, pistol whipping, western whump, death mention, captivity, manhandling

It wasn't supposed to end this way.

With the malignant, rose-colored sun setting behind the shredded trees.

With the blood pooling out around him, staining the red clay.

With the butt of his gun glinting just out of his aching fingers' reach.

With the sheriff's men picking their way towards him.

He was supposed to get away.

They circled him, spurs cutting through the tall grass. They towered over the outlaw, smiling with satisfied confidence. The outlaw had seen vultures with that same expression in their beady eyes.

The sheriff crouched down, pushing his hat back to look at the outlaw. He smelled strongly of cigarettes and leather.

"Well, well," his toothpick shifted between his coffee-stained teeth, "Evenin' sunshine."

The outlaw grunted, keeping pressure on his injured arm. His fingers were slick with blood. His head buzzed, and he could suddenly see two of the sheriff.

It wasn't a pretty thing to see two of.

"You ain't talkin' so proud now," he said, hooking a calloused hand under the outlaw's arm and hauling him to his feet. He tied the outlaw's hands in front of him with quick movements, giving the outlaw no time to protest. "Should have put a bullet in your arm a long time back."

The rope was thick and the sheriff cinched it mercilessly.

The outlaw cursed through gritted teeth, his wrists turning an irritated red beneath the rawhide. "My-- my arm--"

The sheriff slapped him lightly. "None of that bitchin'." He gave the rope to one of his men and picked up the outlaw's gun.

The sheriff spun the outlaw's gun, letting him get a good look at the weapon.

A murderous glint flashed in the outlaw's eyes as the rope was tied to a horse's saddle. "That's mine," he spat.

I'll kill you.

The sheriff laughed. The toothpick jumped inside his mouth. "No, it ain't. Not anymore. The only thing that's yours is a date with the gallows." He stepped in close, too close, and pressed the still-warm muzzle of the gun to the outlaw's forehead. "You got that?"

The outlaw held his gaze, then dropped it. He said nothing, setting his mouth in a thin line.

The pressure increased. "Say, 'yes sir'."

The outlaw's mouth twitched.

"Say it."

Those two words brought the outlaw more pain than the bullets lodged in his shoulder. "Yes...sir."

Somehow, he made it sound like fuck you. He worked his jaw in a tight circle, swirling the tobacco and blood out from between his teeth. Wasting no time, he spat in the sheriff's face.

The sheriff didn't waste any time either. He swung the butt of the gun across the outlaw's forehead.

The outlaw crumpled-- hot pain spiking behind his eyes.

A thin line of blood traced away down his shirt collar.

His hat was knocked off his dusty hair and when they rode away, it was the only thing to mark that they were ever there at all.

A cowboy hat, discarded in a muddy pool of blood and trampled grass.

They dragged him for miles.

Stumbling, coughing, arm ripped at jarring angles. Until his legs turned to lead, and every breath made his ribs ache. His jeans were shredded where he'd fallen, knees bruised and raw.

When they arrived at the camp, they tied him to a low-lying tree. They left him alone as they built up a fire, but his cramped muscles hardly let him stretch and every movement felt like his last.

The young moon shone with a tired glimmer, highlighting the sandy patch of earth with a watery glow.

The fire snapped, sending up sparks into the grey night.

Somewhere, a coyote yipped, and another joined in, then another. The chorus became a long, drawn-out howl.

The outlaw watched as they ate.

His stomach growled. He had been on the run for weeks, and the smell of venison made the starved realization crash down harshly.

The sheriff stood up with a long stretch. He bent over the fire, adjusting a metal prong. He turned towards the outlaw with a slow smile.

The outlaw snarled. "What the fuck are you looking at?"

The sheriff approached him, nodding to two of his men.

A straw-haired man put out a cigarette on the heel of his boot and walked towards the outlaw. Another man, with a greasy mustache and striped shirt, followed.

The outlaw glared at both of them, straining against the ropes. "Fuck--" Too much pressure on his arm. Hurt. He inhaled deeply. "Fuck off."

The sheriff looked down. He spat at the outlaw.

Tobacco-stained spit dribbled down the outlaw's face, and he couldn't wipe it away. He squinted up at the sheriff.

"Do y'know how long I've waited for this?" drawled the sheriff. "A long time. A long, long time."

The straw-haired man grinned. He was missing his front teeth. "We always knew you were gonna git him, sir."

"Shut up, Barney," said the man with the greasy mustache. "Kissass."

The sheriff ignored both of them. "I reckon," he said to the outlaw. "You know how many men you killed when you stole those cattle?"

Three.

"I dunno."

"Three," the sheriff confirmed. "Three good, hard-workin' ranch hands, you cattle-lovin' bastard." The sheriff spoke in a low, harsh voice. "Now the ways I see it, you're about to get what you deserve."

A cold dread filled the outlaw. "The gallows?"

The sheriff smiled. "That. And this." He waved his two men forward and turned back to the fire. "Death is too kind for the likes of you."

The straw-haired man flicked open a knife, and the other pinned the outlaw against the tree. They cut off his shirt, leaving the fire to cast shadows on his bare skin.

The outlaw cursed them, cursed the sheriff, and cursed their mothers.

The greasy-mustached man grabbed him by his hair and yanked his head back until he shut up.

The sheriff's spurs clicked to a stop beside him.

Out of the corner of his eye, the outlaw could make out the red-iron of a cattle brand.

His breaths quickened, rising and falling at a sharp, frantic pace. "No--"

"Yes. A cattle brand for a cattle thief. Only fair."

A new terror blossomed, wrapping around the outlaw's ribcage and rising up his throat as the brand loomed over him.

He could feel the heat before it even touched. He shrank back, incomprehensible swearing cutting through the night. Like his words were the only thing protecting him from the burning touch.

The sheriff pressed the brand down on the outlaw's chest.

The pain was instantaneous and brilliant, a fiery throbbing that made him scream until his voice was raw. He ripped away, back arching in a futile attempt to escape. Raw tears burned their way down his face, blurring his vision until the world narrowed to two things: the smell of burning flesh and the sheriff's veiny hand.

He collapsed as soon as the sheriff's men let go of him, spine curved in the moonlight as he doubled over.

The agony was new and fresh and throbbing, throbbing, throbbing.

The coyotes paused their chorus, then started up again. This time, the outlaw's crying joined them.

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bilightningwhumper · 6 months ago

Text

Whump Writing Intro

Whump writing side blog to @bilightningwriter

Generic writing blog is @bilightningwriter-writing

My blog is majority labeled as Mature or 18+. If you're a minor and interact anyway, on your own head be it.

Ask box is open, but if you do anything with an ask game or prompts list, please tell me which one because I share a lot that inspire me randomly. Questions about my WIPs are also welcome!

Main writing whump tropes used:

institutional whump (partially inspired by the BBU community)

noncon/ nsfw (majority of my noncon scenes are kept to whumpee's perspective only, not the whumper), more explicit in consensual situations, but I am a descriptive writer regardless

Female/lady whump, as well as male and enby whump

Captive whump

Creepy/intimate whumpers

Torture whump (more mental and emotional than physical but I do write all of these)

Conditioning whump

Nonhuman whump

Lab whump

What I don't write:

gore

main character death (unless it's a whumper)

explicit underage (try not to, anyway; will have warnings if that occurs)

I also write LGBT+ and/or neurodiverse characters. I enjoy happy endings, so hurt/comfort is big for me. Basically a lot of whump eventually followed with a lot of fluff.

*IMPORTANT NOTE: Because of yet another AI scraper, I put all of my fics on Ao3 as user-readers only. I know omegaverse messes with some AI generators, but this one is new to me, so better safe than sorry. Remember, you can make an account for free on Ao3 (it's not subscription based either, it's just free) with your email. So they're not gone, just user-readers only.*

My Ao3 Psueds

Works below the cut

Main works-

The New Eden Institution series: Omegaverse institutional/nonhuman-adjacent/conditioning whump, retelling Fairy Tales in a Modern Dystopia AU with LGBT+ and neurodivergent characters (more modern than medieval, but you'll see why as stories go on)

TNEI Tumblr Masterlist

Ao3 link to series

TNEI Ao3 link Masterlist

Mangst 2024 Masterlist with this series

Shadow of a Shield: Omegaverse AU with alternate ending to Endgame where some Avengers had unknown children

SoaS Series Masterlist

Ao3 link to series (in the process of being rewritten)

SoaS Ao3 link Masterlist

Temptations of Fate: Sapphic Romeo and Juliet-inspired angels/demons story

ToF Masterlist

Current writing events/challenges I'm doing:

My AI-less Whumptober 2024 Masterlist

My Angstober 2024 Masterlist

My Flufftober 2024 Masterlist

Corresponding Ao3 Collections for these

If you want to be on a taglist, feel free to dm/pm me or comment on the post, as I don't update on a schedule (just whenever they're finished).

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aceofwhump · 3 months ago

Note

Hi Ace! Did you like the new season? I didn't like the new season of TUA but it had whump!

Ooooh boy. Okay. Well I have THOUGHTS. And I'm going to put them under a read more because of massive spoilers.

Overall I'm really annoyed by the final season. Really annoyed. But let's talk about the things I enjoyed first

1. Klaus whump!!!

Okay how could I not put this one first. I love Klaus. I love whump. Klaus was really out through the wringer and I loved it. He got shot, was bleeding out and dying, picked up by Diego and carried to the van, worried about and saved by his family, several emotional outbursts which I loved, relapses, gets kidnapped, held captive, buried alive, gets rescued, finally gets a good damn hug! I loved it. I ate that shit up.

2. Klaus, Allison, and Claire

This sibling dynamic was always my favorite from the moment Allison caught Klaus stealing shit from their dad's office in episode 1. I wanted more of these two for ages and I got them living together and taking care of each other and Klaus being the weird protective uncle to Claire. I want 10 more seasons of them being domestic. And Uncle Klaus and Claire was so cute!!! Highlight of the season! I was so happy when the two of them not only noticed Klaus was gone and in trouble but that Claire tried to help him AND the two of them tracked him down to save him and bring him home!

3. The family actually showing that the care about Klaus.

Is it obvious that Klaus is my favorite yet? It wasn't a lot but when they freaked out when he got shot and the happy reaction and head patting when he came back to life was beautiful and I needed it. I also LOVED the hug between Klaus, Claire and Allison when they dug him out of the grave. I needed that so badly. There should be more Klaus hugs

4. Dad!Diego

Diego was so lovely as a father!!! His three kids were always on his mind and I love that. I love how he used his powers at the axe throwing just to get 3 stuffed reindeers for his kids. Freaking adorable.

5. Luther

The king of background reactions. He had me rolling on the floor in laughter this season. I loved his energy. Pure sunshine. And him at the antique was so funny cause that's how I am at antique shops and now I want to go antique shopping with him lol. He was adorable and I feel so bad that he got him monkey body back cause he was so happy to have his body back.

6. Nick Offerman and Megan Mullally as the bad guys.

Jene and Gene were so fun. Loved that.

Now let's talk about the rest.

1. Luther

But wait Ace you put Luther in the likes category! Yes. Yes I did. And I stand by that. But WHERE WAS SLOANE! Why was he so fine with Sloane just being gone! Why was Sloane gone at all!!!

2. Five and Lila

Seriously I fucking hated this story line and I hated that the writers thought Five needed a love story. WHY. He really really didn't need one at all. He loved Delores why did they feel the need to give him another love story? Could they not think of any other plot for him? I sure could have! This was boring and trite. And even if they did go with the love story plot still WHY PUT HIM WITH LILA!!!!! After two seasons firmly establishing the love that Lila and Diego have for one another and how perfect they are together. You're gonna do THAT? I hated it. I mean "you hate bracelets." NO SHE DOESN'T! SHE KEPT THE ONE YOU MADE IN THE ASYLUM FOR TWO SEASONS! IT WAS KINDA A BIG DEAL! Why would they then give this plot point to Five!

3. Klaus getting more powers like finally being able to levitate and the show acting like it is literally nothing

I have nothing to elaborate on this. I just hated that we finally got levitating Klaus and not only was it not utilized at all but they treated it like a throwaway thing.

4. No Ray. No Sparrows

Seriously!? Ray left? Bullshit. Sloane and the other Sparrows never come back? Dumb.

5. NO DANCE NUMBER

Every season had a silly dance number and we got NONE. It's a little thing but I was disappointed.

And I still have SO MANY QUESTIONS!!!!!!!!! AND WE GOT NO ANSWERS!!!

Why did Luther get his monkey body back if it was never a part of marigold in the first place? That was done via a Reginald serum.

Why did Diego have no coordination without his powers when he should have at least retained some muscle memories from the many years of training?

Why did Klaus say his years of sobriety was down the toilet as soon as marigold was put in him again? He could have stayed sober. He had control of his powers from s3 so it's not like he was gonna be haunted like before which is why he took drugs in the first place.

What about the other kids who had marigold? Are they in this timeline? Did they also die? Why didn't Reginald ever look for all of the kids? What happened with them?

Why is the marigold they take this season janky? Like why do they get sick? Did Reginald’s wife spike it or something? Or was it simply that they consumed it as fully grown adults instead of being born with it?

WHY WAS JENNIFER IN A FUCKING SQUID AS A CHILD?!

Who was the Ben we saw in the subway at the end of season 3? Cause it wasn't our Ben or Sparrow Ben!

Does Klaus know how Ben died? DOES HE!?!

How did the kids survive without Alison, Diego, or Lila having existed!? I don’t think that’s how genetics work!

What the fuck was the Cleanse!?!?! No seriously! What the fuck was that?! Why is durango in Jennifer? Are there more super kids with durango in them? Why does durango in Jennifer only interact with marigold in Ben? Why no the others? Why does the combination of Ben and Jennifer make the Cleanse??? If they had continued to interact before Reg killed Ben would the Cleanse have happened then? Did Abigail create the Cleanse? Did durango kill their world? How? What does it actually DO! I'm so confused!

If all the marigold has to be destroyed waht about all the other marigold made babies? What about all those alternate Fives in the subway? Why just these 7 people?

Where the fuck did Reginald and Abigail come from?! Why did we learn absolutely fucking NOTHING about them other than the tiny tidbits we've seen already?

Why the hell would Five just peace out in the middle of a fucking battle for his families lives? THAT'S THE OPPOSITE OF WHAT FIVE WOULD DO! Everything Five has ever done was to save his family!

Why was them being born via marigold shatter the timeline? What the fuck do those two things have to do with the other???? That makes no SENSE! It would have made more sense to say that Five disappearing into the future shattered the timeline and send them back to before then or something.

Viktor can get rid of the marigold in people so WHY DIDN'T THEY TRY THAT! WHY DID THE BENJEN CLEANSE CREATURE NEED TO TAKE THEM ALL AND ERASE THEIR EXISTENCE! Couldn't Viktor have extracted the marigold and they get rid of it that way?

(some of that may have had answers in the show and i'm just dumb and missed it but still. i have many questions)

This season was so disjointed and dissatisfying. I was actually bored by episode 4. The plots were all over the place and none connected very well. I'm still so confused about what the fuck was happening all season. None of it makes any sense.

I was hoping this season would be more of a Umbrella Academy vs big bad Reginald and Abigail villain type of plot. I was hoping OG Ben would like start merging with Sparrow Ben or something. I thought the ending would be them returning to their original timeline finally all together and be able to just live the rest of their lives apocalypse free. Happy and together. BUT NO!

Ugh. I'm sure there's more to say but I'm out of steam now. Mostly i'm just disappointed.

#tua spoilers #the umbrella academy spoilers #spoilers #tua season 4 #the umbrella academy #the umbrella academy season 4 #my thoughts #mod replies #ask #anti tua #anti the umbrella academy #i wasn't happy folks #sorry

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