#choking whump

[dont-be-gentle-please]

Whumper who is physically bigger/stronger than whumpee wrapping their hand around whumpee's throat and choking them.

The classic grabbed-by-the-throat-and-thrown-into-a-wall. Or down the stairs.

[silly-scroimblo-whump]

@/augusnippets day 19: collared/branded/chipped cw: choking, mind control, magical whump, conditioning ^_^ preeequel to thiiss…???

masterlist!!!

————————— The blue ribbon wraps around the follower’s neck, pristine nails lightly brushing against their skin as Lucille secures it. “Now, you just stay nice and sleepy, okay? All still and cozy as you get a makeover.” “… Huh?” The follower wearily looks up, eyes shining with the slightest hint of clarity. They widen further as they feel the ribbon, sluggish arms lifting as they try to pull it away from their neck. Lucille’s hands grab onto their wrists. She tuts lightly, shaking her head as she places their hands back onto their lap. “Uh-uh, dear.” A few minutes of lapsing in and out of consciousness later, they suddenly try to duck out of Lucille’s grasp. They gag as the ribbon tugs at their throat, followed by a sickeningly sweet coo in their ears. Lucille is holding the ribbon in one hand and playing with her follower’s hair with the other. “No, dear. You stay still, okay? I’m thinking.” They don’t want to stay still, they want to leave. They— Lucille pulls at the ribbon again, causing them to exhale before inhaling a breath of thick, pink fog from her hands. A few gasps turn into slow, steady breaths as they’re lulled to sleep. “Blood red lips, hair as dark as ebony... yeah! You can be Snow White.” Lucille muses excitedly, ruffling their hair. ————————— taglist!! let me know if you wanna be added!! ^_^ @gumblegoober

[whitecoatwhump]

“I’m here!” she snarled at her captor. She had pinned them to the floor, and her hands gripped their neck like a lifeline. Their face was turning blue as they tried to pry her fingers off.

“I’m finally here! You wanted me so fucking badly, and now you have me!” she continued, leaning closer. “And I’m going to make you fucking regret it!���

[mr-business-whump]

Day 11: Horror

Viggo smirked, and his hands tightened further around his throat. Hiccup made a choked noise, unable to breathe at all anymore, no matter how hard he tried. His eyes flicked to his father's still fighting form in a flash of panic.

He scratched at the hands circling his neck, tried to kick the Hunter Chief away, but it was no use. He was already winded from fighting the hunters manning this ship, and his struggling now was only making it worse.

read it here!

[auroragehenna]

AI-less Whumptober

Day 15 - Torture Tuesday (Waterboarding, removing body parts, “Don’t break down on me yet.”)

"Torture-watching stuff-singing" -- Universe

TW/CW: Drowning, (non-lethal), getting pushed underwater, creepy whumper, defiant whumpee, scared whumpee, threat of death, fight or flight, fear of death Word count: 929

I realize that I made Adam capture Lyra in a pool but never really use that. Sooo let's change that.

The floor undeneath Lyra started groaning, the sound that indicated that the depth of it was being adjusted. Lyra was already only wearing her sports underwear so that wouldn't become a problem at least. She reamined sitting in her yoga sit on the floor. Adam never bothered to restrain her during what she called "empty times", the pool was already to deep with the ladders removed and even if she would get out there wasn't really a safe way out.

The water kept rising now, it was already to her ankles. What was he planning? Does he wanna try me or push me to an escape attempt?"

Adam stepped out of the boys changing room, in swim shorts and a T-Shirt. And in his hand a length of chain and a menacle. With all that in his hand he walked around the basin and then jumped in close to Lyra, splashing her in the process. "Hello, hello, Thyma. Do you wanna go for a little swim?", he asked, grinning menicangly.

Lyra started getting up the moment Adam came closer, she didn't like already be at an disadvantage before the actual torture even happened. "What are you going for?" The shackle wasn't good, not in combination with the water at least. Drowning scared her, not because it was unfamiliar, definitely not, but for her voice.

"Why don't you try and find out, hm?", Adam taunted before advancing on his plaything. With the raising water and the malnourishment it wasn't very hard for him to throw her off balance and wrestle her to the floor. Her curles splashed into the water around her like a halo and as he kept her pinned to the floor he got to witness the panic slowly building as the water creeped up her face.

Lyra's head banged against the floor as she got down. "Shit.", she cursed. It was frustrating to always lose even after all these years. But it made sense if the other person was the person teaching you. Yet now the water was creeping up, licking up her troat and chin and she was still pinned to the floor with Adam atop of her!

Adam chuckled and kept Lyra helpless while attaching the menacle to her left ankle and the end of it to the length of chain. The chain that was connected to a heavy weight sat on the floor.

Lyra's breathing was stressed. Not to the point of hyperventilating but definitely anxious. But just as the moving water started covering her face Adam got off of her. She coughed and quickly got up. Well as far as she could...There was no way moving her leg more than the length of chain allowed. The weight was too heavy. What if Adam wants to kill me...?! ... Don't be ridicolous, he wouldn't do that. Right?"

Adam smiles charmingly. "Naw what terrifiying thought just crossed your mind, hm?"

"Oh, please. I just don't like being restrained-as you very well know."

"I do know that, its delightful." Adam starts circeling her through the rising water. "Did you maybe wonder if I was going to kill you?", he asked luringly.

"Oh please, you're way too obsessed with me.", Lyra gave back, if only she could convince her body of that.

Adam waited until the water had risen enough and then the real fun could begin. Still circling her he managed to surprise her and push her underwater.

Lyra barely had enough time to draw in a breath before she was pushed under. Her body instantly started thrasing beyond her control and she desperately tried to regain control over it, push up ad slide past Adam's hands. But the bastard didn't let that happen!

As her trashing got even more erratic, Adam pulled Lyra up again. Hitting her on the back harder than necessary to "assist" with getting the water out of her body.

Lyra coughed and winced at the pain of the beating on her back. By now the water was so high that it just barely stopped unerneath her face. She had to swim all the way until the chain ended to get air while Adam had still plenty of air room and could easily swim. Lyra glared daggers at him.

"Awww, what's wrong? I thought you loved swimming? Lets just hope you're still good at swimming for a long duration of time, am I right?"

"Oh shut the fuck up! You're enjoying this wayy too much!", Lyra fumed, before taking another deep breath.

Adam leered at her during her rant and right as she took her breath he grabbed the chain with his feet and pulled. Watching his plaything dissapear underneath the water again. As she tried to get towards the chain between his feet he managed to kick her away above the armpit. Then he dived dowm himself to hold the chain even further underwater. When Lyra's movements slumped he pushed them both up above the surface.

Lyra coughed and spit out water in Adam's hands, already exhausted from the constant fighting for her life. Already the repetitive pushing underwater mixed with the threat for her life pushed her into fight or flight. Into the old feeling of being hunted for fun. But given Adam's manical joy this would be going on for a lot longer...She tried to get out of Adam's arms but that was pointless so she just uncomfortably squirmed despite herself. Suddenly one of Adam's hands sneaked itself around her throat. Her whole body but her legs who were swimming froze up and and a tiny whimper escaped her.

Adam chuckled darkly at her reaction, he loved the small moments when she showed how scared she really was. It was delicious. And then he choked her additionally before pushing Lyra underwater again.

It was a lot longer before Lyra was finally allowed to lie on the floor again, still shackled. There were still a few centimeters of water covering the floor. A cruel reminder that he could repeat that any time he wanted to.

@ailesswhumptober, @yourlocalgaefae33, @princessofhe11, @greatkittencloud, @bisexuawolfsalt

@shattermind-8

[ashintheairlikesnow]

Nobody

CW: Choking/strangulation, whumper as whumpee, guns, brief dubcon and gore mentions, brief gendered slur towards the end

For @amonthofwhump day 11: Strangulation

You can find more Nanda on Jameson’s masterlist

-

He was stupid, really. Just fucking full-on stupid. No excuse for it, no reason, no understandable explanation for what he'd overlooked. Forgetting to check one single room in the enormous house. Losing track of one person for just a few seconds. Not even his assigned target. 

Just one single man in one single room that Nathaniel Benson hadn't accounted for.

One stupid mistake, and now he's on his back with heavy hands closed tight around his neck, gasping for a thin thread of air he can just barely pull into his lungs. 

This asshole, with a face like a thumb that got delusions of grandeur, is going to kill him and dump his body and Nanda's brand new house will go to some chump who doesn't even deserve it. 

"Let… go-" He hisses, but honestly, he doesn't even know if this guy speaks any English. There's no reason for Thumb Face to know it, they're deep inside the borders of another nation across the breadth of the world. But he says it anyway.

It's pure instinct, and just as stupid as forgetting to check that room. Like the guy will just decide to pull back, whoopsie-doodle, guess I'll stop trying to kill you since you clearly don't actually want me to… 

As it is, the guy only sneers down at him, and leans forward. His weight on Nanda's stomach keeps him pressed into the floor, just a few feet away from his gun. 

He could fix this, if he could only reach that gun. Just a few inches too far away. Just a little too far. 

Just far enough. 

Bright white bursts like fireworks flash in his vision, his body pleading with him for oxygen he can't provide. Between those sparking lights, he can see the snarling expression of the man who will soon murder him, his teeth far too white to seem real, sweat beading up on his forehead over a pulsing vein. 

I am going to die at the hands of a man who looks like a child drew him while blindfolded. 

His fingernails scrape and scrabble along the man's thick forearms, gaining purchase but no strength to pull him away. He's already torn long red gashes, but none of it moves the man at all. 

If only he could reach his fucking gun-

His vision grows dark at the edges, heart pounding, desperate to force what oxygen he has left to his brain to keep it working for as long as it can. 

The darkness is growing… 

Who will even miss him? After he's pitched into some dark river and found by police who see no identification on an anonymous corpse? Who would notice when Nathaniel Benson never comes home?

No one. No-fucking-body.

He has a brand-new, entirely empty six-bedroom house with a cleaning lady paid by automatic draft who has never seen his face. It would take a year for the drafts to stop. He has a series of one-night stands with cute boys who come their brains out under his whip and his dick but never want to fuck him twice to show for every time he's tried to find someone with tastes like his own who won't tell a safeword as soon as things really get fun. Phone numbers that won't pick up if he calls. Pretty men who leave when he enters the bar. 

He has a sister who would mourn him, but he only speaks with Sammie once a month or so… oh, and nieces and nephews who might remember him for a couple of years. He has parents who pretend he never existed until he's right in front of them…

Who would miss him? 

Christ, who would even pay for the tombstone? Or even be notified if anyone did identify his body? One stupid mistake and his life stops like it never began. 

Nanda finds just enough air to grunt, but when he tries once more to breathe in, the bastard's thumbs on his windpipe and his fingers closed tight leave no room. 

The air stops in his mouth, over his tongue, sits there like a weight or the name of a lover he doesn't have. 

The guy's wearing a V-neck sweater and when he leans over so far his stomach is pressing to Nanda's chest, he sees a flash of light on dull metal through the growing darkness taking over his vision. 

He doesn't think about it. Thinking is getting harder, it would take too long to think it through. Instead, he pulls his right hand back, jams it up under the guy's shirt, and pulls the gun awkwardly out of the underarm holster he's wearing. 

He's nearly gone, he can't see anymore. His heart pounds in his temples and ears and he hears absolutely nothing when his finger pulls the trigger, once twice three times, the gun kicking back into his own stomach, over and over. 

He's not even sure if he really fired it - or just hallucinated it - until the hands on his throat go slack and then fall away, as the man slumps to the side, half-on and half-off of Nanda.

He coughs as his throat whistles with new breath, head spinning from the lack of and sudden overwhelm of oxygen, laying limp on the cold hard floor. 

The man with his thumb-shaped head coughs, too, but it doesn't do him any good. He'd coughing in a thick, wet way that tells Nanda he shot through his lungs, or at least through one. 

Nanda manages to shove him off the rest of the way, and with agony starting to throb behind his eyes, he rolls onto his side and then onto his hands and knees to crawl to the place his own gun had fallen. The thumb man's gun in one hand, his own in the other, he turns around to face the dying asshole whose hands he can still feel like ghosts clinging to his throat. 

"Fuck you," He says in a rasping, whistling thin reedy voice. "I wasn't even h-here to kill you."

He raises his own gun, a wonderful familiar weight, and fires. 

The man's head abruptly loses half its bulk and now it isn't shaped like anything at all. But the wall behind him is painted a beautiful bright red streaked with grayish-white. 

Nathaniel Benson slowly drags himself to his feet, holstering his own gun, stumbling down the hallway. He checks his watch, closing his eyes as the world lurches around him when he tries to focus on the numbers. 

The target will be home soon. 

He has two hours to clean this mess up if he wants the kill to be according to his original plan. Or, he supposes, he could brew some tea, clean up his fingerprints, and kill the bitch when she walks in the front door after the opera. Or just after.

Let her see her thumb-lover's body, first. Let her mourn him. If she even does. He’s not sure how anyone could mourn someone who smelled so much like beer cheese dip without pretzels.

Still, give the target a couple of hours to discover him.

Then kill her. 

Nanda leans back against the wall, his own sweat trickling down the back of his neck to disappear into his shirt. 

Get the job done. Get home.

And then go find someone who will do anything he wants and still miss him when he's gone. 

-

@finder-of-rings  @endless-whump  @arlinthesnep  @thefancydoughnut  @newandfiguringitout  @doveotions  @pretty-face-breaker  @gonna-feel-that-tomorrow  @boxboysandotherwhump  @oops-its-whump  @cubeswhump  @whump-tr0pes  @downriver914 @whumptywhumpdump  @whumpiary  @orchidscript  @nonsensical-whump  @outofangband  @eatyourdamnpears  @hackles-up  @grizzlie70  @mylifeisonthebookshelf  @keeper-of-all-the-random-things @burtlederp

[mysticwhump]

Content Warnings: Lady whump, strangulation/breath control, collars, sadistic Whumper, creepy Whumper, referenced starvation and dehydration,

The collar on her throat pulls tight again, and her lungs start burning, her heart rate shooting up again. That half a breath hadn't been nearly enough. She forces her eyes open, glaring at a blurry Whumper above her.

"You still don't understand, do you?" Whumper tsks, shaking his head. He watches her red face get redder, mouth open in a useless attempt to draw air. "You're mine, darling. I'm the one who decides if you're fed, if you're given water."

He nods at something to her right, and tugs her collar, forcing her to look at a piece of bread and a glass of water, just out of reach of her bound arms. Her stomach growls, a reminder she hasn't eaten yet since she got captured.

He tugs her collar again, forcing her to look at him. Her eyes flutter shut, then open again. Tears start to leak out. "I control when you're allowed to breathe, if you ask nicely." He stops speaking, looking down at her. Waiting for something.

"....a..air...." She croaks out, as the dots fill her vision completely. The collar tightens more, and right before she loses consciousness, it's loosened. Just enough for a trickle of air to flow into her lungs.

She coughs, trying to draw in breath.

"Shhh, slowly, darling. Don't overwhelm yourself now." Whumper coos, a hand stroking her hair. "Shhh, I know it hurts, but you shouldn't cry. You need to conserve your water, darling." He wipes water from her cheek. He loosens the collar another notch, letting her breathe a little bit easier.

Slowly, her coughing fit subsides, heart slowing down as she regains some of her breath. Whumper smiles, hand trailing down her body, feeling her ribs.

"What do you say, darling?" Whumper asks. "Do you understand?"

"I...I'm...I'm not your....your dar... darling." She gasps out.

"Wrong answer." Whumper says, sighing. "I did so hope you would learn quickly." He tightens her collar again, cutting off all air. "But I will admit, I do so enjoy this."

She tries to struggle, wrists tugging against her restraints and trying to thrash her legs. Her lungs burn, spots swimming in her vision. She can hear him chuckle above her.

"You do look beautiful like this, darling." He says, watching her struggle. Her face, still red from a minute ago, is turning a darker red as tears leak from her eyes. Her mouth is open, hoping for any air to go into her deprived lungs, as her chest heaves. Her eyes flutter open and close, open and close. "Do you want to breathe, darling?" He grabs her chin, tightly. Her eyes flutter open, glazed and barely able to focus on him. "Are you my darling?" She glares, and he sighs. "I won't let you breathe until you admit it."

He had expected her to put up a fight, the amount of spunk she had making it all the sweeter once he broke her. He had not expected this much fight after a few days of no water, and a full week of no food. He grins- breaking her will be fun.

Her eyes start to close, her face beginning to take a blue tinge, and he slaps her. They open again, focusing on him. "Darling, I'll let you breathe the second you say you're mine." He promises. She barely nods. "Are you mine, darling?" This time, it's a definite nod, and he smiles. "Good girl."

He loosens the collar halfway, and she breathes, coughing as air rushes into her lungs. He waits until the coughing fit stops, until her red face is back to her normal pale colour. It takes a few minutes, as she is unable to still get a full breath, the collar still pressed a little tight on her throat.

"Now, was that so hard, darling?" Whumper asks.

"Pl...please...." She gasps. "No...no more. Please."

"Did you forget already?" He asks. She shakes her head, feeling the collar start to tighten again. "Who controls you?"

"Y..." The collar cuts her off, air stolen again and she turns betrayed eyes to him. He laughs again.

"C'mon, darling. Tell me. Who controls you?"

It's a choice she has to make: keep her air and stave off choking a bit longer, hoping he'll give her more air before she faints, or use the last of her air to answer him and hope he lets her breathe. Either way, she's dependent on him.

[letitbehurt]

Grab Whumpee by the throat and slam their body against a wall. Results may vary.

[defire]

Dance of Death Chapter 11:

Druid Justice

Content: beating, choking, minor character death, death threats, restraints, captive whumpee, gang beatdown, multiple whumpers

Nife poked her head out into the miasma, and clambered out of the gaps and onto the massive pillar that had nearly crushed her twenty minutes ago. She paused while she took a couple more breaths of slightly cleaner air, feeling her limbs ache and tremble with the lack of oxygen. 

She heard muffled voices above her, and from the darkness, she was pretty sure it was past dusk now. 

"Alright, but nobody has seen Nife Raizden?"

"I'm not searching the bottom so I can arrest her corpse."

"Nobody asked you to, Wick. Nobody asked you to."

Nife sighed a little. She wasn't exactly surprised that they were going to try to arrest her. She also didn't want to be arrested, no matter how bad a situation she was in. When a Druid was arrested, they often came out beaten up. Sometimes they came back a few fingers short.

And if she did get out with all of her digits, they'd fine her family into oblivion for her conduct today. 

She couldn't just stand there strategizing in the miasma, so she achingly found a way around, then carefully climbed back up in a side street fire escape, and finally lowered her mask and took a real breath of air.

"Oh, hell, I missed you." She said to the oxygen, finally blinking the tears out of her burning eyes as they adjusted to the very dim light of a gaslamp in the street.

"No way." Came a voice behind her.

She stiffened and glanced back. There was a silhouette at the other end of the alley she was standing near.

"Is that her?" The person said. "I see a Druid!"

Of course, he'd seen the little tops of her horns peeking out of her curls. Now would’ve been a great time to have normal Druid magic, but as always, Nife only knew how to draw attention.

Nife spun down around the corner, dashing down a ramp to escape from the voices behind her. She was dipping down into the miasma again. At least they wouldn't be able to see her--unless one of them was a Druid.

"Are you sure?" The voice had a very distinctive speech impediment that made "are" sound more like "awr".

"I saw horns!" The other one replied. "It's her! It's got to be!"

Nife kept running, hearing their voices behind her.

"Acorn, your eyes are better in the dark, you go." 

Shit. Nife thought. Acorn was a Druid name. He'd see her heat easily in this night chill.

"Wick, don't leave me!"

Her boots were so damn loud. She envied Kit's tough bare soles that could dash quietly up this walk faster than anyone she knew, and for double her time too. She was already getting winded as she heard them coming behind her.

The road she was on continued downward toward the Ink Lake district, which was terrible for her, because many older roads dipped down into the flooded old residential district.

Her feet splashed into the putrid blackness of the rotted water. She looked around for something to climb, realizing that all her recreational climbing hadn't prepared her for climbing fast. She'd better get faster, right now, if possible.

Following the smell of bacteria and mold., she plunged southward, now up to her shins in water. The Druid was gaining on her. She'd only made a few blocks now, and the lights were gone. 

Finally she reached a fire escape. She climbed up and the first rung in her hand broke in the middle, making her stomach lurch in terror of falling before she caught herself on the next rung with a knee. This close to the rot, she was lucky that the sides held. She pushed onward, upward.

Slowing down to collect her energy, she made it up three levels. Reaching down with her nightsight, she saw the Druid's heat, hesitating at the bottom. He had to know she was up there. 

Faintly she hoped that he'd choose to leave her alone because of their shared race. He had been standing there hesitating for a while. 

This was the only habitable building for several blocks in the area. She had chosen it because she hoped that the other heat blobs inside would disguise her from her pursuer’s nightsight, making her look like a resident.

Then her heart sank as she heard him call out. 

"Wick." Acorn said through his mask. "Help me... I hear her."

"Don't tell me this is a heights thing again." Nife heard the other enforcer's voice quite a way off.

Nife grinned down into the misty thick air below her. Acorn was a wimp.

She pushed her toe against a pane of glass in the window to her left. She reached over to feel if it budged. It had a little give, but it was a slide-up window. Bracing against the ladder, she pushed it a bit, then got her boot-toe in it and yanked upward the rest of the way. She crawled in carefully and knelt just under the sil, panting. She didn't shut the window so she could hear the progress of her pursuers. 

As she caught her breath, she brushed curls off her forehead and wiped sweat off onto her puffy shirt sleeves. She could feel her heartbeat in the wound in her leg–another bad sign–but she had started to feel like she could escape. 

Acorn was complaining at Wick, who was already on the ladder. At least Wick wouldn't be able to see her slipping away. 

The people who stood across from Nife were all Druids, which she could tell by the slightly warmer spots on their foreheads or temples where the horns started, and they watched her silently without even a gesture. Nife was staring back at them, not sure what to do.

The room she had entered was completely dark. But looking up, she realized that there was quite a bit of warmth here in this unheated room. Over twenty bodies were standing around at the edges and in the next rooms, and they were completely silent. All facing her.

The only sound she could hear was the rain hitting the glass window, and the muffled steps of bare feet gradually climbing up the ladder outside. 

"Acorn?" Wick called back. "You got your whistle on you? Can you call backup?"

"What abawt yours?" Acorn called back. "Come awn, it's just a scrawny little kid."

Scrawny, huh. That was quite a derogatory way to describe her lanky build.

Wick sighed, looked in at the blackness where Nife was, and called back to Acorn.

"Go get reinforcements. I'll go in ahead."

Nife had to move, now. She looked across the room at the warmth of the Druids that were all facing her. They stood there, creepily silent, and she wasn't sure if she'd rather face an enforcer or the horde of silent Druids that were staring her down with unseeing eyes, watching her with their nightsight the same way she was watching them.

The enforcer fumbled at the windowsill.

"Acorn?" He called back. "Are you coming?"

"I'm coming." Came a very faraway call.

Wick hesitated, sighed and pushed himself in.

Suddenly there was a scuffle at the window as the Druid lunged right past her, grabbed the man in the window, and yanked him inside.

She heard a gagging noise, struggling and gasping in the blackness. She focused through her horns and made out the two forms--the Druid on top with his legs out for support, and Wick kicking and struggling beneath him. She knew it was Wick who was on the bottom of the scuffle, because his feet were terribly cold from being doused in the lake.

"Wait, stop," She said. "He can't breathe, man, what are you doing?"

"Choking him." Came the strained response as she saw the Druid pressing in dangerously hard on the trachea.

She stepped toward him as she spoke--

"Just let him up for a minute. Please." 

The Druid let his thumbs relax a bit. The Bane gasped in a terrified breath, whimpering slightly as he tried to recover.

"What." The Druid said. 

"You're just going to choke him for being around?" Nife said, searching in her mind for something that might sound reasonable to someone that seemed kind of crazy. "The other guy went for backup. Aren't you going to clear out before the other enforcers arrive?"

Now the Druid turned a bit more to face her, with the Bane struggling ineffectively to get his hands off his throat.

"You're not working with Acorn, are you?"

"Working with..." Nife hesitated. Why would she be working with the other enforcer?

"Who the hell are you?" Someone said from behind her--one of the other Druids watching this scene unfold. 

"Who is she?" The man asked Wick.

"Look I was just running away," Nife interjected. "I have nothing to do with this. I just don't want to watch someone get murdered to death."

"You're a Druid, right?" The man said, betraying that he couldn't' see as well as Nife could. Most people couldn't, but there were a few exceptions.

"I am," Nife said.

"So, he's a Bane." The Druid said. "Can't you tell?"

Nife didn't answer.

"So why do you care?" The Druid said.

"Why do I care?" Nife repeated. "Why do I care that I'm watching a possible murder unfold?"

"Oh, this is definitely gonna be a murder." The man said. "Well don't just stand there, come 'ere and help if you're gonna help."

There was a harsh blow as the man struck Wick in the jaw.

Nife forced herself out of her shock and lurched toward them. At the same time the other Druids gathered around them. Nife grabbed the leader's wrist and attempted to yank him away from the victim. When that didn't work, she used the hilt of her dagger to punch the guy in the back till he turned around with a curse in Nife's direction.

As he reached to grab the offending hand, Nife ducked back under the crowd of arms and legs of the other Druids, who were all focused on Wick.

Nife realized with a sickening churn in her stomach that the man was being kicked onto his stomach and tied up tightly, his squirming body held down by a forest of feet and hands while a couple Druids tied him up.

If she kept going, Nife thought she might be able to sneak out the opposite window without any of these Druids noticing that a witness was escaping until it was too late. 

Suddenly an arm came into her path from the hallway, looped around over her shoulders, and dragged her back toward the others. 

"No wandrin off naw," The Druid said in a soft voice.

"Is it illegal to use the latrine now?" Nife whispered.

"Don try dat shit wid me," The soft voice went on just as gently, but the grip was like iron. "I saw everyting."

Nife elbowed back into her ribs once, then again, harder, and all she got was a grunt. She flipped the knife down, prepared to drive it into the woman's thigh. And then her arm just froze there for a moment. 

Do it, she told herself. You have to. Defend yourself.

But I've never stabbed anyone! She wanted to scream.

She was just staring around herself, hand shaking as she tried to get the will to drive it down into the muscles of the woman's leg.

"Good, she didn't leave." The leader was saying. "Get that newbie over here. That you, Breeze?" He frowned into the darkness to make out the face of the person dragging Nife.

"It's me." Breeze confirmed, and the tone sounded like a damn threat.

"Let me go," Nife said. "I don't want to have to hurt you, but I will."

Someone let out a short laugh, but Breeze seemed to suddenly notice the knife, slightly cooler in Nife’s warm hands. She lowered her arm to grab it from Nife, who jerked her hand away and quickly ducked out of Breeze's grasp.

She had ducked into a corner in a now-crowded dining room, where most of the Druids had gathered around the Bane captive. Some of them knelt by him on the mildewy carpet, some leaned against the bare walls with glances around the corners, as if to make sure they weren't going to be interrupted.

With a glance, Nife could see that even with perfect planning and speed, she'd have to get through one or two of them if she wanted to reach the sliding back door to the patio. 

"Hey newbie," The leader said, delivering a booted kick to the enforcer's side. The prisoner let out a telling little sob. He was crying. "Come 'ere, newbie. You weren't a lotta help back there, but this part's an everybody game."

Another kick.

"Wait. Stop." Nife said. "You're just going to kidnap someone and start kicking them? Because... why? His race? His job?"

Aqua stepped over the Bane and grabbed her by the collar. He pushed her back a couple steps, and several other Druids followed her back. Nife thumped against the wall, looking down at the shorter man with confusion. He pressed his fingertips down roughly into her hair, rubbing a thumb up her forehead till it met her horns, as if he was double-checking that she was really a Druid. 

"I don't understand." He said, through his teeth. "You're one of us. Aren't you? I don't understand."

"But you're hurting him." She said, still open-mouthed, refusing to accept what she was hearing. "Don't you hear him?"

Aqua punched her in the stomach. 

Nife doubled forward, somehow not expecting that. He grabbed her by the hair and yanked her toward the Bane, with the curse–

"Two-timing bitch."

She struggled against his grip, and finding that too strong, she resorted to the knife, slashing it around and upward toward his arm. He saw it last minute and released her, and she fell on the side of her thigh, scrambling backward as they reached and kicked in her direction.

"She kin feed the teeth too," Breeze was saying from behind them.

"She's a Druid!" Aqua kicked at her and just missed as she flattened herself against the floor and slashed her knife across a booted shin. 

She'd been trained to fight Banes. 

"Aqua, there's no point in letting a two-face live. We gotta waste 'er."

Nife was almost to the opposite wall of the dining room, hoping to cross into the hall and jump out the window at the end. A kick hit her in the cut leg this time and she screamed, cringing over her shin. "Rgh--not the leg!"

Their reaction to that was to start kicking her exclusively in the leg. A hand clamped hard on her shoulder to keep her from wriggling further. Another kick.

She screamed again and cursed, trying to protect her leg with the other one. It burned. At this rate they'd overpower her and "feed her to the teeth", whatever that meant. She couldn't hurt them. She couldn't hurt a person. She'd never hurt someone on purpose before.

She was seeing stars from how badly she was hyperventilating, and from the pain.

I'm going to die! She was panicking. I should really do something about that!!

She pulled a knife in her main hand–her left–and growled through her teeth.

The pain was lost in a sweaty adrenaline rush of limbs and flesh and blood. The smell of blood, rushing through her nostrils, disgusting and vibrant.

"Fuck it! You asked for it."

She was cutting, throwing, and scrambling toward the openings she made. Knives shot from her hands as she kept out of their reach. 

"Hell, a knife?" Someone shouted. "She's throwing knives at us!"

She cursed as more ran down the right side of the corridor and yelped as she dodged a spear-thrust. The third dagger hurtled into the face of the spearman and she staggered back into the dining room, armed with the fourth.

She stabbed that in and had no time to retrieve it as she slipped out of their reach once more. The only remaining option was the window she'd come in by, and if she wasn't mistaken there was--

Fuck. Someone there.

Something hit her in the back of her head and she felt time slow and pause. She felt dazed and confused. Was this the fifth knife she was throwing, or the sixth?

Someone came up behind her as she tottered, almost falling to her knees, catching herself just in time. They were moving so slowly. Were they just that confident, or were they really that slow?

It occurred to her that she had been trained to fight Banes. The fast ones. She felt a short smirk cross her features. Even if she had to kill, she'd be glad to get out of here. The one behind her reached at her head and she stabbed behind herself with the sixth knife, leaving it buried just right of their crotch.

"How about I just say my farewells and leave you to it?" She panted, as the one behind her toppled.

And their answer was to laugh.

"Okay, I can work with that too." She muttered as a guy came toward her armed with something that must be long from his posture--fuck, those were short. Tonfa?!

When it whipped out and knocked into her jaw from the left, her leg couldn't take the weight and she was on her knees before she realized it.

Her stiletto was in her hand. She pressed it against her attacker's stomach and released the blade. It shot into him, and she yanked it out and mule kicked the other guy from the ground, then she was on the move. 

She kicked and sliced with her last dagger, and her feet punched into either leather armor or flesh as she evaded the swings of weapons--mostly. And she found herself with her back to the wall, facing Aqua with the rest of them right around him forming a ring.

Her breath was so ragged it hurt, and she couldn't think straight, not to mention where she'd been hit, especially her leg, was about the only thing she could think about in the first place.

Aqua grabbed her by the throat with his right hand and the wrist with his left. Apparently his nightsight was at least good enough to notice when she was armed. Close up, she could see his recognizably cold, long nose. Many of the other Druids closed in around her now.

Aqua squashed her throat back into the wall, and when she kicked at him, he kicked at her wounded leg, over and over again, till she would've screamed, but she couldn't breathe in or out past the choking hand. Her leg felt like it was being ripped apart. Tears rolled down her face as her throat squelched in an attempt to breathe.

"Let go. Let go." He was saying, gripping her hand above the stiletto, crushing her knuckles. She genuinely couldn't hold on, but his hand was actually keeping her from letting go completely .

"Let go!" He kicked her again as her tears ran over his thumb.

"I am," She tried to say, lips quivering. 

Maybe he saw her try to form the words, or maybe he guessed, but he twisted his grip, pinched the handle and whisked it out of her fingers. The kicking stopped for the moment, mercifully.

"Anybody hurt?" He said over his shoulder, giving her a couple wheezes of breath before choking back up on her.

Several of them answered, but several just lay on the ground, bleeding out or already dead.

"Ringa's gotta knife in 'is gut." The words came through clearly, but didn't make a lot of sense. Nife saw stars in the corner of her vision. She was tapping and straining against his grip, panicked tears pouring out of her eyes as the Druids named off two others that she'd killed.

She could see Aqua's face wrench in anger.

"You... murderer!" He said, fingers squeezing tighter into her throat. "Killing your own kind! Treble--Ringa--Melody--" He kicked her leg for every name. She choked and struggled weakly against his grip.

She couldn’t breathe. She grimaced and pried at his fingers, terrified to see the lights and heat fading from her consciousness.

"Aqua, you gonna kill her?" Someone said to him.

He let her get a little bit of air, probably to make sure he didn't kill her yet.

"A-corn..." She gasped. "He's coming."

Breeze laughed, standing across the room with her arms folded and watching her and Aqua scuffling.

"Acorn's with us." Breeze said. "You ain't got that yet?"

Aqua closed his fingers around her neck again, and Nife's chest heaved uncontrollably, trying to bust open the blocked passageway to no avail. All she could think was "I can't breathe. I can't breathe."

Her head ached and her lips began to tingle; she was panicking. She was tugging and clawing with her left hand on his sleeved arm, kicking more weakly now, and when she did, he would kick back so hard her shin felt like it was going to shatter if she got another one. 

"Please," She mouthed, but he didn't let go. 

She vaguely heard them talking, and then suddenly there was a release and she gasped in, and it was after the oxygen flooded her lungs that she was falling on her knees, arms trembling. 

They kicked her down till her chest hit the ground. There were hands behind her, pulling at her arms. Trapping them behind her back with a painful jerk and twist to each one. She was still fuzzy as she tried to get her breath back. Aqua dug his fingers into her wrists hard enough to bruise as he tied them together so tight that the rope bit hard into her skin. He stood up and stomped on her butt a couple times, taking a statuesque victory pose.

"Job well done," He remarked.

"No no wait," She panted, keeping her head up as she tried to remember how to negotiate. "I have something you want... I think..."

"What, you got some more Banes hiding somewhere?" She heard Aqua's voice above her as she stared into the carpet. 

A groan scraped out of her throat. The other prisoner was actively crying.

"Nah, we're gonna feed 'er to the teeth," Breeze said. "Aqua, she ready to go?"

"Now hold on," He said. "I think she deserves some payback first."

Nife's breath caught halfway when she heard that.

"Wait, payback for--"

"Yeah, payback" He snarled, stomping her again. "I'm gonna hurt you for every one of my friends you killed. And then we're gonna kill you."

Fuck, I knew it, She thought, closing her eyes against the despair that choked up her throat. They're going to kill me.

First chapter: Next chapter:

Taglist: @tildeathiwillwrite @mimostic @fleur-a-whump @a-n-j-a-maria

Per Tumblr's content policy, this is the non-nsfw version of Dance of Death.

For anyone following along on this story that wants the canon NSFW version of the story, you can get the book on amazon for $0.99, but I just want to make it possible for anyone to access.

If you like this book, it would mean so much to me if you leave a review of Dance of Death on Amazon.

[aceofwhump]

Graceland 1x08

[whump-galaxy]

The team is captured and lined up in front of their captors. The most defiant among them, of course, cannot keep their mouth shut. They mock, taunt, and jeer till one captor has had enough.

They grab the whumpee by the throat, asking if they really want to die like this. The whumpee bares their teeth with a defiant smile.

And spits directly in the captor’s face.

[whumpitisthen]

"Oh, you are so little. I could hold you in place with only one hand. Such a slender throat... I reckon you fit perfectly in my palm. You will behave, won't you? I am going to mark you. I want to see my fingers bruised into that lovely flesh. I want to feel you writhe and squirm under me. I want to watch you flinch away from my touch, and then I want to punish you for it. Then I want to listen to you cry, until you give up all of your tears for me.

Doesn't that sound nice? To be made mine this way? To scar you so deep you cannot help but fall apart? To belong to me so completely?

No? Well, I think it sounds wonderful. We will have to keep doing it over and over again. Bruises are not permanent, after all. Not unless I scar you instead. Would you rather I burn a ring into you? Melt a metal shackle around your neck? You only have to go through that once.

Haha. I thought so. Come here then. Let's see how easily you will bruise for me."

<3

Masterlist | Ko-Fi

[doumidas-whumps]

keep your hands down.

[dont-be-gentle-please]

- Whumper covering whumpee's mouth and nose in between dunking them so they can only hope for tiny breaths when whumper moves their hands.

- Whumpee (for various reasons) can hold their breath for a specific amount of time, longer than average. Whumper knows it/figures it out and pushes whumpee's limits.

- Waterboarding

- Being drowned in a bath by carewhumper.

let’s think about drowning.

- whumpee being held by the hair, pulled back out and dunked in repetitively.

- blood from previous injuries dribbling into the water as whumpee struggles underneath.

- shivering and shaking once dragged from the murky depths.

if anyone would like to add anything then please do feel welcome to share. :)

[thisautistic]

hope!whump.

if you already saw the set i made earlier no you didn't shhhh

[hippielittlemetalhead]

So I've seen a lot of 'Hop actively dislikes and distrusts Steve', 'Hop tolerates Steve because he's useful during UD shenanigans but doesn't like him', and the big swing to 'Hop has adopted Steve as his own and treats him the same/almost the same as he does El'

BUT, I present:

Hop pseudo adopts Steve because when he and Owens were trying to get the Harringtons to make any decisions about their teenager who saw some sketchy shit and may need government testing they legally gave Hop the rights to act in loco parentis and he takes that seriously because he doesn't want another Will Byers and he's pretty sure the Harrington kid has a concussion.

Hop who stays involved just enough in Steve's life season 1-3 that we the audience see Steve is getting attached. But Hop just sees an annoying kid who won't leave him alone when he's trying to deal with a rebellious psychic and her insane little friends and keeps asking stupid questions about highschool romance and teenage rivalry drama. Knows Joyce Byers doesn't like the kid but won't give a lot of reason why but he's mostly learned to trust that woman's judgement about people. Still gets him the job at Scoops when the kid's dad makes a stink about college and tells him if he survives a few months there he'll consider bringing him on the force, makes sense to keep him close and in a position to help should shit hit the fan again.

Hop who doesn't get it when Steve is one of the most relieved when he 'comes back to life' after Joyce and Murray bring him back from Russia. When Steve introduces him as "My Hop," (something he'd taken to calling him just before season 2 shenanigans) to his sarcastic, fidgety little friend like it means something. The girl, Robin, looks between the two of them and gets this sad look on her face for a second before smiling and shaking his hand and saying something about "Dingus has told me all about you".

Hop who complains to Murray one of the times The Party and assorted teens and adults are over at his renovated and expanded cabin (courtesy of Owens and shady government organizations recognizing these people are worth investing in, heavily if omens are to be believed) when the bald annoyance asks about what's up on there. Complains about having annoying teenagers who have nothing better to do but pester him legally put under his supervision cause their parents can't be assed to care and are spoiled little shits who are slightly more bearable versions of said parents cause he can stand toe to toe with one of those monsters they faced and the kids kind of listen to him. Complains about barely being able to breathe cause of regular visits and check-ins like Hop was still responsible for him. Says at least the extra hands are useful around the cabin what with the still healing up and El pacing herself after the showdown with Creel and still trying to find Max and the Byers not quite moved back to Hawkins yet.

Hop who doesn't realize that Steve hears every word cause he had gone looking for the older man when he disappeared for more than a few minutes, when he couldn't see him to make sure he was here and safe and alive. Steve who thought Hop actually had come to care for him in his own gruff way and had confessed to Robin that in a lot of ways the way Hop has taken care of him makes him the closest thing to the father figure he's always wanted but never thought he'd get to have. Steve who hears Murray hum and recollect a visit from Nancy and Jonathan where their romance officially started (he vaguely knows about the visit, didn't realize that's what happened, didn't realize she couldn't be bothered to even do the decent/considerate thing before moving on to something better) because it seemed it was a pattern he was seeing 'people liked Steve, but people didn't love Steve'.

Hop who hears a choked sound like someone taking a claw to the gut and turns to see Harrington. Steve Harrington his bandages just peeking out from the collar of his shirt and the opening of his sleeves. (He never did get the stories behind those, too busy being fussed over and being told about the kids and how they were doing as Harrington played babysitter) Steve Harrington a kid who went through hell and still managed to smile and laugh and stand tall and unyielding looking at him with a blank face his eyes misty and his shoulders starting to curl in on himself before he clears his throat, chokes out that he just wanted to make sure Hop was alright but looks like Murray had everything under control. He'd go now, get out of his hair, let him rest, let him breathe. Steve Harrington who walks away with purpose like a man on a mission and doesn't acknowledge the kids calling out asking if he's alright, make sure he has his walkie talkie on him.

Hop, who realizes maybe he left behind two kids who missed (needed) him. Who wonders who took care of Harrington's paperwork when he was concussed and sedated because he was bleeding out and feverish from infection and Hop was busy at the cabin reveling in the comfort and warmth of his daughter and the woman he loved and her two sons who were fast becoming like his own. Hop, who realizes too late that maybe if he'd given the kid half a chance he could have had 3 sons to sit with him and his daughter and the woman he loved as they basked in surviving another end-of-the-world. Hop who has spent years barely giving a damn about Steve Harrington and realizes that he's no better than the kid's own parents.

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4.1

Part 4.2

Part 5