#demon whumper

[shshshquietnow]

I'm a big fan of angels and demons in whump, especially angel whumpees with demon whumpers. A demon obsessed with getting this divine perfection to break, and an angel having to stare in the face of something they've been told horror stories of since childhood.

But something I don't see used a lot is FALLEN angel whumpees, which I think have a lot to use. No one's coming for them, maybe they're weaker than before, they've been forsaken, they're maybe a bit spunkier, maybe already a little broken... they're great material to mold and mesh.

Or even fallen angel WHUMPERS, ones with nothing to lose, bitter and hurt... fallen angels walk around, showing the world with just their wings they've done something to piss off the heavens. Who WOULDNT be scared being taken caprice by one?!

[abhainnwhump]

Whump Contracts

They're verstitle.

(Content warnings: Workplace abuse, pet whump, manipulation, possession, slavery, victim blaming, financial abuse?)

Demon Whumper forcing Whumpee into a contract to possess their body.

Whumpee is signing up for an acting role and they're over the moon about it. The problem? They look at the contract they have to sign for it. Whumper wants them for a little more than acting.

Whumpee signing themselves into being a slave/pet because of their self-hatred.

Whumpee unwillingly signing themselves into being a slave/pet.

Whumpee can't read, so they rely on Whumper to explain what is on it. They lie.

That fantasy trope where someone snaps their fingers and the paper and quill appear out of thin air. - Bonus points if it's out of fire or there's some ghost chanting as Whumpee signs it.

Whumper using the contract as a defense in case the authorities/Caretaker find them.

"You should've read the fine print."

Whumpee actually reading the fine print.

Caretaker signing papers to adopt legally be Whumpee's caretaker.

[all-the-gory-details]

Whump prompt: bound wings

TW: angel whumpee, religious whump, restraints, demon whumper

It was so quiet.

The angel hadn't expected that, hadn't pictured it on the rare occasions she thought of what Hell would be like. The darkness was expected, as was the chill. The cruelty was definitely living up to her imagination.

But the silence?

It was deafening.

She shifted around uncomfortably, trying to find a somewhat comfortable position. It was a lost cause, of course. How could she be comfortable with her wings bound so tightly with thick, leather straps? How could she relax with her hands chained behind her, rendering her helpless, unable to defend herself.

She couldn't even use her wings to keep warm.

She buried her head in her knees, shivering and shuddering. At this point, she almost wanted the demons to return, just so there was something other than silence and cold and darkness.

At least she'd be able to stop imagining all the horrible things they'd do to her. At least she would know.

But the iron door stayed closed and locked, and the angel stayed seated, wings bound and hope falling.

[lumpsbumpsandwhumps]

Women In Whump Pt. 3 (But they're MY women ❤️)

[whumpwillow]

okay so you all know creatures that feed off of suffering blah blah blah but what about creatures that feed off the happiness of others. a demon or something that can make people feel amazing with their powers and then siphons the happiness out of them, leaving them nothing more than an empty shell

[rosetyler42]

I came up with a REALLY angsty idea: Been wanting to play around some with Bill and thought "Who of the family is most likely to make a deal with Bill?" Mavis, being the most naieve and trusting one with insecurities about her monstrosity and strong desire to be human seemed perfect....although Bill's blue hand flame would scare her for...obvious trauma reasons having lost a mom to fire.

Bonus: Protective parents. (Johnny would ALSO have heen fun to do! But...blergh.) Drac of course is HORRIFIED to see what Bill has almost talked his daughter into, and Ericka's basically trying to distract him Venkman-Style so no pact is sealed.

I know. I'm evil XD

Bonus Bill Line I didn't work in there: "Uh, Yeah, ya are. What? Your Scaredy-Bat DAD burned himself for that Sunflower woman AND getting your boyfriend back for ya. Aren't you supposed to be braver and more adventurous than him? Huh. Guess all that 'Just roll' stuff was all a lie, too?"

@lovelylivelyv @beanybat @black-ak9 @hotelt-resurrection @martin44444 @serial-serializednovelreader @wingingfromthezing @deathfangirl9 @chytag @kittyball23 @heartsong1994 @ebevkisk @morsobaby @unsung-idiot @cipher-club @genderqueer-bithing @howling-nightmare @nerdalmighty @candyheartedchy @dorykinny

[whumpsday]

Power Play

Writing Masterlist

content: kidnapping, ritual sacrifice, begging, hand whump, impalement, mouth whump, knives/skin carving, demon whumper, creepy whumper, major character death, gore

this is my piece for @zineofgid !! this was such an awesome project to work on :)

you can still buy the guys in distress zine here! proceeds go to the charity RAINN. there are limited physical copies and unlimited digital copies, as well as some merch left. do keep in mind that while my piece is sfw, this is an 18+ zine and a lot of other contributors' pieces are very much NOT sfw!

this piece was done as part of a collaboration with @whump-queen, with ocs we made together! he made art that accompanies this piece, you can view it here! it depicts the end of the story so you might wanna wait til after you read it though if you care about spoilers (also linked at the end)

-

Jonah’s breaths came hard and fast as Reese dumped him out of the large duffle bag, onto the cold floor of his basement.

He immediately tried to struggle to his feet, but his wrists and ankles had been bound with way too many layers of duct tape, making it impossible. Reese easily kicked him to the floor, placing a boot firmly on his chest and keeping him there.

“Ah-ah-ah.” his captor tutted, ripping the tape off his mouth. “I’m sorry to say that you will never see outside this room again.”

“You’re crazy!” Jonah screamed, unable to keep the terror out of his voice. His heart hammered in his chest, right under Reese’s boot.

“You have been messing with my campaign.” Reese countered, as if kidnapping was equivalent to Jonah doing his damn job. “Arnett didn’t start climbing in the polls until she brought you on as manager.” He dug his boot in deeper, making it a little hard for Jonah to breathe, pressing his bound wrists painfully into the floor under his back.

Despite admittedly-minimal efforts to retain his composure, Jonah found himself trembling. “So, what? You’re going to- kill me?”

There was no way he could fight this man off. Reese was bigger and stronger than him; it was pathetic how little he’d been able to struggle when Reese had initially incapacitated him. Now he was bound with tape and at an even bigger disadvantage. The thought that he could really die here blared through his mind like a siren, urging him to do whatever he could to escape, as if there was anything he could do.

“Not exactly. I’m not going to kill you.” Reese finally stepped off Jonah’s chest, only to kick him over and press a knee into his back instead. “Don’t mistake this as petty vengeance. I needed someone, and you happened to be an enticing target.”

It was only then, staring across the floor instead of at the ceiling, that Jonah noticed his surroundings.

A large pentagram, easily five feet, laid painted red in the center of the room, a hammer and nails set next to it.

“What the fuck?” he whispered in cold horror.

“Thanks to you, it’s clear that a good, honest campaign by a good, honest man isn’t enough to make it in politics. Luckily, there are other ways to get ahead in life, if you do enough research,” Reese explained, like it made perfect sense.

“Is that blood?” Jonah asked, voice small, staring at the red of the pentagram painted meticulously into the floor.

“It is. My very own.”

Jonah’s line of questioning was instantly interrupted when felt the side of a blade against his forearm.

He writhed, his struggles renewed. “Get away from me with that thing!”

“Hold still, or I might nick you. You want that tape off, don’t you?” Reese leaned down. Jonah could feel his breath on the back of his neck as Reese’s knee pressed further into his lower back.

Jonah went still, barring the tremors he couldn’t control. As much as he hated to admit it, Reese was right: aimlessly moving around with a knife millimeters from his skin would only get him hurt. He didn’t resist as he felt steel slide harmlessly against him, the layers of tape cut away and peeled off.

Before he could even think about running, Reese grabbed both his newly-freed hands and dragged him over to the pentagram. Jonah started struggling again, but there was little he could do against the iron grip.

Reese pointed to one of the triangles making up the pentagram. “You will kneel or I will make you kneel.”

He didn’t know what else to do, and pissing off his captor seemed like a recipe for disaster, so he knelt as indicated.

Reese bound one hand to Jonah’s body with more tape, bringing the other to a point of the pentagram. He pressed Jonah’s palm against the star’s tip, stepping firmly against his wrist to hold it there.

“Now, stay nice and still.”

Reese picked up the hammer and one of the nails.

“What are you doing?!” Jonah tried to pull his hand away, but Reese just pressed his boot down harder.

“What I said. Just making sure you stay still.” Reese positioned the nail in the center of Jonah’s hand, the sharp tip pricking at his skin. Jonah’s breath grew rapid in anticipation of what was about to happen to him.

“Wait, don’t, don’t don’t no no no-!”

Pain exploded in his hand as the THWACK of the hammer hit the nail and pierced his skin, and Jonah finally screamed. He tried again to pull his hand away, to pull his whole body away, but it was useless. He was trapped.

“Stop! Stop stop stop, you’re crazy!” he cried, tears spilling over and running down his face. The nail settled on the floor’s surface, just barely poking through the tender skin of his palm from the inside, making its way through muscle and ligaments and tendons.

“You can think what you like. Doesn’t matter to me,” Reese commented nonchalantly.

The hammer came down again. Jonah’s second scream was less intense than the first, as if his voice itself were scared, breaking off into a sob. A few more taps left the nail buried snugly in the floor, the head resting against the back of his hand as a bit of blood escaped from under it.

Jonah panted hard, adrenaline coursing through him. His hand wouldn’t move from where it sat fastened to the pentagram even after Reese removed his boot from his wrist: even twitching his fingers sent a horrible jolt through it.

“Good job, you’re doing very well.” Reese praised, patting Jonah on the head. “And now, the other one.”

“NO!” Jonah cried. “Stop! You have to stop!”

“Shh, it’s okay.” The sheer calm Reese talked about it with sent shivers down his spine. “It’ll all be over soon.”

Reese freed his uninjured hand, and Jonah clutched it protectively to his chest, shaking. “Leave me alone,” he begged tearily.

His captor grabbed his hand and brought it to the opposite point of the pentagram, stretching him out painfully and forcing his head and chest to the ground. Much to his dismay, Reese stepped down on his other wrist and readied the hammer and nails again.

Jonah strained his neck to look up at Reese, desperate. “What do you want? I’ll quit, okay? I’ll stop running Arnett’s campaign, you’ll never see me again. Just stop.”

“Oh, Jonah. Like I said, I needed someone. It just happened to be you.” Reese started on the other hand. No matter how much he screamed, it wouldn’t stop. Unlike the first nail, which seemed to slip in between his bones, this one landed right on top of the small, delicate bones inside his hand and smashed through them uncaring, the pain blinding.

Jonah was a mess by this point, sobbing into the floor. “I don’t wanna die like this,” he sniffled.

Reese cupped his face. “Look at it this way. You’re dying for something bigger than yourself. More powerful. Now, I think that’s about enough complaining out of you.”

The grip on his face grew tighter and tighter, fingers pressing tightly into the sides of his jaw, until Jonah was forced to open his mouth. Reese grabbed his tongue and pulled it, touching it to the center of the pentagram. Even among the throbbing pain in his hands and the horrifying situation, Jonah’s face crinkled in disgust.

Reese grabbed another nail.

Jonah’s disgust was immediately forgotten, replaced by overwhelming terror. He tried fruitlessly to shake his head away, making what little terrified noises of protest he could manage, as Reese settled the tip of the nail against his tongue.

A whine of fear escaped him, and he looked up at his captor pleadingly. Please don’t do this.

“Just try to relax,” Reese advised, as if it was at all possible.

The hammer slammed against the head of the nail, sending it straight through Jonah’s tongue and into the floor. Jonah wailed with intolerable pain, hot tears slipping down his cheeks, no longer able to form pleas. All he could taste was his own fresh blood, running over Reese’s painted on the floor.

Reese gave it a few more firm taps until the head of the nail almost crushed Jonah’s tongue under it, undeterred by Jonah’s cries.

“There we go.” Reese disappeared from Jonah’s tear-blurry line of sight. A moment later, he felt the side of the knife against the back of his neck. He squealed in distress, unable to even thrash against his bonds anymore.

But the knife didn’t plunge into him. Instead, it glided downward to the sound of tearing fabric until Jonah’s shirt fell limply in front of him. Reese ran a hand over his exposed back, Jonah’s tense muscles shuddering under the touch.

“This is the final step.” Jonah jolted as best he could in his immobilized state as he felt the tip of the knife between his shoulderblades- not digging in yet, but threatening to.

“Nghh!” Jonah couldn’t say much else with his tongue nailed down. He couldn’t even shake his head. Nothing he could do to indicate NO would be enough here, anyway. Reese didn’t care for his opinion.

He screamed as the knife buried itself in flesh, not deep enough to touch bone, but far from shallow. It glided along his back in a sweeping stroke, before Reese lifted it and picked a new spot to carve into him, no matter how much he cried and tried to writhe away from the sharp, insistent pain.

Slice after bold, swirling slice, Reese painted a pattern in the splitting of his skin, spending the most time on an intricate design between his shoulder blades. Jonah was pretty sure it was supposed to be an eye, but he was too hazy with agony and blood loss to tell.

Finally, Reese pulled the knife away from his mangled back. “There, all done. Soon you won’t even feel it.”

Jonah could only sob in response, trembling from pain and fear. Everything hurt. His entire body felt like it had been through a paper shredder. He could feel the blood running off the sides of his back and pooling beneath his folded-up legs, soaking his knees.

He watched as Reese lit candles in a circle around him, painting the room in a warm glow, and began chanting in a language Jonah couldn’t understand- Latin, maybe? What a pointless thing to die for. What would happen to him when none of this worked and no demon showed up? Would Reese concede and let him go? Probably not. Jonah imagined the knife plunging into his chest, the last thing he ever saw the face of his murderer. At least the pain would stop.

Slowly, as Reese chanted, The sigil carved into Jonah’s back began to burn.

Just a little at first, but getting hotter and hotter until Jonah was writhing in pain, trying to free his hands despite the nails holding them in place and hurting worse and worse the more he tugged on them. What was happening to him? It felt like someone had run boiling oil through the gashes in his skin. It was unbearable. He needed it to stop. Jonah squeezed his eyes closed, releasing a sound akin to a dying animal at the excruciating pain.

When he opened his eyes… a figure stood in front of him, half-materialized, like it was creating itself out of thin air. The warm orange glow of the candles began to shift to a cold, too-bright violet.

He strained his eyes up to see, the angle much less than ideal with his tongue bolted to the floor. He wasn’t sure if that was the reason they looked so massive, or if they really were abnormally tall, but a glance at Reese for comparison proved it to be the latter.

Everything about them looked unnatural, all bright colors that might mark a plant or animal as toxic, screaming at his nailed-down body to run. Glowing fuschia markings slithered all over their skin, the pattern looking suspiciously like the one Jonah could feel carved into his back. A giant scorpion-like tail snaked out from behind them.

Jonah stared up at the- the demon, apparently. As their form became more solid, Jonah’s back burned less and less, the only thing he could possibly be thankful for in this moment.

The demon eyed him back threefold, an impossibly-wide grin full of sharp teeth splitting their six-eyed face. Jonah couldn’t help but whimper under their gaze.

“Izuloth!” Reese shouted, suddenly seeming so much less intimidating compared to the monstrosity before him.

Izuloth broke eye contact to direct their attention to him, their smile faltering and their eyebrow twitching with annoyance. Several of their eyes narrowed. “What?”

“I’ve summoned you! I’ve captured a sacrifice, carved your sigil, drawn this pentagram in my own blood. You will now grant me power, as promised,” Reese declared confidently.

The smile returned. “Awfully presumptuous, human. I don’t remember promising anything.”

“What- what are you talking about?” Reese sputtered. “That’s what it said in the book! You are now under my control!”

Izuloth smirked. “Oh, is that what it said. That was nice of them to put in there. Makes fools like you much more likely to summon me. Hm, I don’t think I care for your attitude, though.”

They snapped their fingers.

Jonah watched in horror as Reese’s body began to unravel in front of him. Skin peeled from muscle, exposing raw, bloody flesh and piling on the floor below in a wet heap that splashed Jonah’s face with blood- he could taste it on his outstretched tongue.

Reese tried to scream, but all that came out was a gurgle as his tongue joined the rest of his exposed muscles in shredding to bits, as if taken to on all sides, inside and out, with an invisible cheese grater. It was over within a minute: the remnants of his body collapsed to the floor, twitching with life for only a moment before going still.

Jonah was alone with Izuloth.

He whined in terror, too frozen to even try tugging at his restraints. If the demon could do that, it wouldn’t be any use anyway.

Izuloth, to his dismay, turned their attention back to him. “Now, where were we?”

They reached a hand down to pet his hair. Jonah squeezed his eyes shut, his entire body tensed up in anticipation.

Suddenly, Izuloth grabbed his hair and pulled. Jonah’s eyes flew right back open as his tongue ripped right out of the nail, bisecting it down the middle with an agonizing tear. His scream of pain cut short when Izuloth grabbed him by the frayed end of his tongue, their many-eyed face inches away.

“Pretty thing, I think I’ll keep you.”

-

ART BY AKIA WHUMP-QUEEN!!!

-

everything taglist:

@lilac-and-lemon-whumps

@t0rture-me

@whump-for-all-and-all-for-whump

@dismemberment-on-a-tuesday-night

@whumpshaped

@pigeonwhumps

@the-scrapegoat

@whumpycries

one-shots taglist:

@icyheart-and-friends

@kira-the-whump-enthisiast

@whuarri

@reborrowing

[inkwell-and-dagger]

don't worry they're totally posing willingly don't even. don't even worry about it mate

also I've wanted to use this template for so long because all the ones I've seen are GORGEOUS. anyway teehee aarin time

[brutal-nemesis]

E&T: Caught in the Clutches of Lust

No im not sorry for any of this. cope and seethe

Btw I used a line from @painsandconfusion and @wormwriting's degradation starter list that I saved THREE YEARS AGO for this very moment. I am always playing the long game (⊙ˍ⊙)

←Previous - Masterlist

Ingredients: VERY creepy/intimate whumper, implied threat of noncon, a lot of noncon touching (unsexy but right on the edge), implied noncon kiss, unsexy nudity

Shiori?

No, it couldn’t be, she was a world away, she was human, he’d left her waiting by the fountain after the party and she’d moved on and forgotten about him, no reason to follow him here, into the depths of hell, looking exactly like she had the night of the party, jarringly out of place in her pretty dress, smiling at him like he wasn’t a blood-covered, unrecognizable version of himself.

And then he blinked, and all of a sudden it wasn’t Shiori at all, but Lythia, wearing the same yellow bandana that she always did while she was working in the palace gardens, the little black braids of her hair just as beautiful as he remembered. There was no pity in her dark eyes, like there had been the last time he saw her, looking up at him from the crowd while he was chained to that pillar, promising he’d be rescued after it was already too late. Actually seeing her hurt, and Erebus looked away for a moment, just a moment…

When he saw the woman in front of him now, his jaw dropped, eyes widening, his tense, burning hands finally relaxing.

“Come on, let’s get you somewhere safe.”

Her voice was just as he remembered, and she was smiling at him so kindly, her eyes soft, her gloved hand outstretched, she was here to save him, she’d found a way to bring him back, he was too tired and scared and stressed to do anything else besides surrender control to her once again, to take her small hand and follow her blindly towards the fate she’d chosen for him. She was squeezing his still-healing hand tightly in hers, but she could do whatever she wanted with him just as long as she got him out of this place.

“Well, that was easy.”

The voice wasn’t Shiori’s, or Lythia’s, and it certainly wasn’t Neteri’s.

Erebus jumped back, finally seeing the person next to him clearly for the first time. She-they?-smirked at him, bright purple eyes sparkling. Their white hair was long and wavy, partially braided back with impeccable precision. Gold jewelry and a low-cut black dress accentuated their natural beauty, seeming very out of place in this hellish world. Most striking of all, though, was their bright red skin, a shade that was very familiar to Erebus.

This was a lust demon, and she’d lead him right into her lair.

“You-how did-I-”

They laughed, deep and bright, obviously amused by his shock and confusion. “You only saw what your heart wanted you to see, darling. It’s not my fault you turned into a meek little lamb and followed me here.”

Erebus’s face grew hot. “Well I-I…” his wings sank behind him. He’d thought he was about to be saved. Like an idiot. She’d led him away from the bubbling pools and acrid air into a sort of cave, a furnished one at that. But now he was cornered in here, at a disadvantage in the cramped space. He swallowed and changed the topic, hand resting on the pommel of his sword. “Who are you and what do you want with me?”

“Apologies.” She bowed slightly, the sort of bow people gave when they were pretending to show respect during negotiations, but then declared war a few weeks later. “My name is Asmodeum, and really,” they gave him a disapproving look, “I’d rather not fight with you. I heard you’ve defeated Somiaken and Vorath already, but I believe you and I could work something out without coming to blows.” They held their hands up briefly, but the way they watched him made it clear that their guard was still up. “So, tell me your name, now. Unless you’d prefer I just call you darling?”

Erebus very much did not want that, so he complied. “Erebus. But you didn’t really answer my question. What do you want, if not to fight me?”

Asmodeum sighed wistfully. “Well, I can tell that you’re the sort of person who’ll never agree to what I really want, but I believe something can be arranged. You see, I’ve been stuck here for Akumo knows how long with no toys to play with. So, I was thinking-”

“I-I’m not gonna be your toy,” Erebus choked, his throat feeling like it was closing up. 

“Ah, ah, ah.” Asmodeum wagged a finger. “Let me finish, dear. I could have my way with you quite easily, you know. It would be oh so effortless to drag you back into my domain proper and throw you into a pool of boiling water or lava and watch the show. However, I think your forced cooperation would make this a little more fun, and it would be nice if you behaved for me. So, if you let me do what I want with you, barring the most intimate acts, I’ll let you kill me once I’ve had my fill.”

“What happens if I don’t say yes?”

Asmodeum casually examined their nails. “I will take you by force and I will defile you.”

“D-defile?! You don’t mean…” Erebus quickly glanced down, and Asmodeum smiled wickedly.

“Oh, I do mean. If you let me play with you, I swear I won’t do anything of the sort. Call it an incentive. So come on, Erebus, get rid of your sword.” Erebus just tightened his grip on it, weighing his options. As much as he didn’t want to let this demon…play with him...did he really have any other options? He was exhausted, and there wasn’t much room in here for him to try and put up a proper fight. And more than anything, he really, really didn’t want to risk being...Despite the anxiety building in his chest, Erebus unbuckled the sword belt around his waist, setting it carefully on the ground.

“Fine. But if you so much as touch me there I’ll-I’ll make you regret it.” How would he do that? He wasn’t sure. But he just-he had to make it clear that he wasn’t surrendering. He was just…agreeing to play along. Just to get a break from fighting. He was okay with this. He’d be fine. He'd been through so much worse.

He'd be fine.

“I promise I won’t cross that boundary, don’t you fret.” Asmodeum walked over to him, kicking his sword out of reach as they took his hand. “First things first, you’re absolutely filthy. Let’s get you cleaned up, shall we?”

Erebus pulled his hand out of her grasp. “I mean, I-I can do that myself,” he muttered. Asmodeum raised an eyebrow.

“I’m sure you can, but I want to wash you, dear. And right now,” she grabbed his hand once more, “I get what I want.” They pulled him along into a bathroom, and he followed reluctantly, feeling an odd sense of familiarity in just going along with this sort of thing. Their threat was certainly a motivator, but that didn’t mean he was going to roll over completely on every little thing, right? He had to make it clear that he wasn’t happy with this, despite agreeing to it. She started filling up the bathtub with water, turning to him with a smile. “Let me strip you now.” 

“I-I’d rather-”

“Shhhh.” She placed a finger on his lips, her other hand starting to undo the ties on his shirt. “None of that, dear. I can’t get you all clean if you’re wearing these dirty clothes, now can I?” He looked away as they tugged his shirt off, hoping that they’d-nope, now they were going to try and take off his pants, too.

“You said you weren’t going to-to do that to me.”

“I won’t. But that doesn’t mean you get to keep your clothes on the whole time, you shy little thing. I just won’t touch.” Erebus stifled a whine as she pulled down his pants, and his underwear along with them. “There we go. You can get in now.” He did so, almost jumping into the warm water and crouching down, hugging his knees close and spreading his wings around himself protectively. They gently pushed his wings back, stroking his face as he glared at them with wide eyes. “There’s no use hiding when I’ve already seen everything, silly. I think I’m going to need to get these arms out of the way, hmmm?” They pulled out a pair of manacles, and Erebus’s stomach sank.

“Wait, I won’t resist just-just don’t-”

“Too late for that, Erebus.” She clamped them around his wrists, twisting the chain securely around the faucet. “Besides, you look absolutely darling like that, all helpless. Now, keep those wings out of the way or I’ll pierce them together.” Erebus’s wings sank in defeat, slowly moving back until they were behind him. There wasn’t any winning here, was there? “Good boy.” She grabbed a cup from the countertop and started using it to pour water on him, rinsing away some of the pieces of flesh stuck to his bloodied skin. After she lathered a washcloth with soap, she began to gently clean the dried blood off his face. He screwed his eyes shut, fists clenched as he tried to think about anything else. 

Even back when he was a prince, he’d hated being fussed over, preferring to take care of himself when he could. Asmodeum, however, seemed to have no concept of personal space, or just didn’t care. She had to work hard to get through the blood caked over most of his skin, leaning in close, starting with his face before switching to his hair. Their hands slid in, tenderly working through tangled bloody mats and massaging his scalp. He hated how nice it felt, how much it reminded him of the way Lythia always used to play with his hair, forcing himself to open his eyes and look at Asmodeum, to remind himself who was…

Lythia smiled at him sweetly, and Erebus felt his blood run cold. That wasn’t her, no matter what he saw, no matter how he felt. She wasn’t here. She was back home, probably still tending the palace gardens despite the change in management. Did she still think of him as she looked at all the places they used to laugh? Or could she not get the image of him screaming and sobbing up on that podium out of her mind, unable to remember any other version of him than the one he’d left her with? Maybe that’s what he deserved to be remembered as, since he’d hardly thought of her since that day, the memories too painful. 

Erebus shuddered when Asmodeum moved to his horns, which were always far more sensitive than they had any right to be. She seemed to be able to tell, continuing to stroke them long after they were clean, and as much as he wanted to ask them to stop, he was afraid it would only encourage them. At the very least, the disconnect between Lythia and his horns was enough to push the thoughts of her out of his mind, and Asmodeum changed back to their normal form.

Her hands finally slid lower, caressing his neck, fingers slipping under his collar, making sure the skin underneath was clean, pressing down against his throat every so often as they did so. It wasn't enough to really choke him, but the message was clear.

They moved onto his shoulders, his wings, his arms, his back. He caught their smile as they saw what his right arm really looked like, and her fingers traced his whip scars as they were uncovered. Dread started to pool in his stomach as she moved to his chest, scrubbing away, revealing-

“Oh, well isn’t this pretty.” They marveled at his brand, stroking the lines of the scar, pausing over his rapidly-beathing heart. “Too bad you’re already owned by someone else, huh? But I suppose they’re not here now, are they?” Erebus just bit his lip, refusing to make eye contact. The thought of his…of Neteri not being here hurt, and, try as he might, he couldn’t help but think of her, of the way she’d always protected him. He wondered how angry she’d get if she saw what was happening to him, or if she could feel now that someone besides her was touching him. He could imagine her bursting in, yelling at Asmodeum to get their hands off of him, unchaining him and letting him cover up before pulling him into a hug-wait wait what was he thinking she’d been his captor she’d hurt him and ripped him into pieces and kept him locked up but she'd promised to save him and he missed her.

“What’s wrong, darling? Is even this too much for you?” Asmodeum brushed away a tear he didn’t realize had been falling with her finger, her skin no longer red, but brown. He couldn't look her in the eye. Not while she wore that face. “Such a sensitive little thing.” Hearing those words in that voice was already bad enough. Erebus tugged at his chains, wishing he could rub away those stupid traitorous tears, because he wasn’t crying about Neteri or Asmodeum or any of this. 

Their hands plunged beneath the surface of the blood-clouded water now, and Erebus couldn't stop himself from tensing up as they scrubbed his stomach, glad the parts of him that were previously under clothes weren't as caked in blood as those that weren't. Still, there was enough to clean that she had an excuse for her hands to wander lower still, caressing his hips, his thighs, and now he was trembling, fists clenched, tears dripping even more steadily into the tepid, cloudy water, no one had ever touched him there, at least she was wearing her own face now, but please, please stay away from there, you said you wouldn't touch me there and if you do then why am I here why am I letting you do this why do I keep letting people hurt me if I just stood up for myself more if I wasn't such a coward maybe I'd still be-

"You're rather pathetic, aren't you?" Asmodeum mused as they cradled his face, turning him towards them. Erebus blinked away tears, just now realizing that they'd finished cleaning him, the tub already drained. He couldn't exactly argue, crying and shivering like he was, so he just swallowed and gave the tiniest nod as he pulled himself together, hoping it'd be enough to get them to move on.

With a satisfied smile, she unhooked his wrists from the faucet, but left the manacles on as she pulled him up and out of the tub. He tried to cover himself as best he could as they toweled him off, hoping they’d stop touching him or at least give him clothes soon. Thankfully, they did, handing him a small bundle, and upon unrolling it he found...a pair of shorts that barely reached his knees, and that was all. Once he’d put them on, she dragged him into another room and let go, crossing her arms. “Kneel.” 

“I don’t-” Asmodeum raised an eyebrow, and Erebus stopped himself. They were expecting him to obey their every little whim if he didn’t want to be...he knelt, staring at the floor. She circled him a few times, and he clenched his fists in his lap, hating how much of his body was on display. Not that she hadn’t already seen everything.

“You were just made to kneel, weren't you? Absolutely gorgeous." Erebus's face burned even hotter than before. All he could hope was that they'd be done with him soon, but he'd never specified how long this would go on for when he agreed to it, so this might last…He was such an idiot, why did he just go along with this without any negotiation?

Asmodeum stopped in front of him. "Well, what are you in the mood for, dear? Pain,” her hand slid under his chin, tilting it up, “or pleasure?”

“Please just-anything but-” he choked, and she just laughed.

“Anything, you say? Then, I think...I'm in the mood for this.” They grabbed his collar, yanking him up onto the nearby bed. Before he could even try to sit up they were on him, wrapping themselves around him, worming in between his shackled arms, forcing him to embrace her back. A shudder ran down his spine as her skin came into contact with his, her arms pinning him flush against her body, her legs tangling around his. “Have you ever been this close to someone, darling?” she whispered in his ear, their fingers stroking his hair.

“I-I, um, a few times but-” 

“Aw, and you’re still nervous.” Her hand ran down the back of his head, stopping at his collar. “It’s so cute how you still wear this. I’m sure you could get it off if you tried, so you must like having it on, huh? Do you miss your owner?”

“She’s not-I don’t-I just-it’s…” he screwed his eyes shut, “I can’t take it off, alright?!”

“Such a dutiful little pet-”

“I wasn’t h-her pet!” 

“You’re so adorable when you’re in denial.” They stroked his back, rubbing around the base of his wings. Erebus just opted for staring at the wall, hoping they wouldn't touch his horns. “Do you know how lust demons feed, my dear?”

“By eating…?”

“Well, of course, but not the same way you do. We feed off of humans, more specifically, their bodily fluids.” She smiled widely, showing off her fangs. “And I haven’t had a meal ever since being locked up in here. I normally get my fix a different way, but, to be considerate of you, innocent little boy,” they shifted until their lips were right next to the base of his neck, fingers pushing his collar out of the way, “I’ll settle for feasting on your blood.”

Her fangs sank into his neck, and he couldn’t help but gasp at the sudden pain. He tried to breathe in calmly through gritted teeth as she sucked on the holes in his flesh, drinking his blood. Soon enough, his ears started ringing, and lightheadedness crept in. He gripped the chain between his wrists just too feel something solid, glad that he was lying down, at least. By the time Asmodeum pulled away, licking droplets of blood from their lips, a dizzy haze had settled over Erebus. He closed his eyes, tears leaking out as she snuggled back into him, just hoping that this would all be over soon. In fact, maybe he would just...let the blackness take him...just for a little bit...so he didn’t have to be...awake…

Erebus’s mouth tasted like dried blood when he woke up, and Asmodeum was still wrapped around him tightly. She smiled when their eyes met. “Did you have a good little nap, my darling? I hope you don’t mind, but,” she gripped his chin, her thumb stroking his lips, “I had a little bit of fun with you while you were out of it.” A bit of...wait is that why his mouth tasted like-

“W-you-you can’t d-do that to me I-I don’t-” his voice broke, and he couldn’t breathe all of a sudden, no matter how many fast little breaths he sucked in, just get away, get away from me stop touching me don’t do that to me please please I don’t want that you can’t do that to me you can’t you can’t I never wanted that not from you not from anyone and now now now I-I’m-I’ve been-

He felt something solid press into his hands, and he realized that Asmodeum was standing in front of him, and that was his sword in his hands, he was sitting up now and that was his sword and Asmodeum was smiling they were holding out their arms to him they were ready they were ready they were laughing they were coughing up blood they were on the ground there was so much blood how much of it was his he wasn’t sure he didn’t know they reached up and he backed away he had to get away he couldn’t stay here a second longer she was dead she was dead she was already crumbling away and he had to go he wanted to rip off his own skin he could still feel her touching him where where where were his clothes where was the key to these manacles he had to go he-

Erebus dropped his sword. He fell to his knees. He buried his face in his hands. 

And he screamed.

Tags: @dramaticcollapse @thehopelessopus @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @galaxywhump @as-a-matter-of-whump

@mnmlover2002 @tears-and-lilies @yet-another-heathen @rippedjeansandfadeddreams @starnight-whump

@unicornscotty @thebewilderer @kixngiggles @itallstartedwithharry @inky-whump 

@redstainedsocks @lonesome--hunter @his-unspoken-words @susiequaz12 @its-mysweetlittlesecret-blog 

@whumpasaurus101 @patheticlittleguy @jadeocean46910 @whumpinggrounds @pumpkin-spice-whump 

@suspicious-whumping-egg @befuddled-calico-whump @whump-in-the-closet​ @pumpkinsncoffee​ @aryox​​

@vampiresprite

[whump-queen]

couldn’t stop until I had @demondamage’s pretty boy Aziphem in my art style

he’s mine forever now ~🔪🫀

[tags and progress shots below]

General whump taglist: @whumpshaped @whumpsday @emmettnet  @a-whump-sideblog  @whump-it-like-its-hot @wolfeyedwitch @whumper-soot @unorganisedalienrubbish  @kira-the-whump-enthusiast @hidden-dreamland @whumpedydump @lonesome--hunter @ashh-ed @whump-in-the-closet @oriantthegiant @banditosong @anonymustyou @feralwhump @jieunie-23 @whumpasaurus101 @morning-star-whump @whmp @captain-bo-bob-bobby @the-beasts-have-arrived @spooky-scary-vampires @burningkittypoet @veyroswin @painsandconfusion @skittles-the-whumpee

Art only tag: @burntcoffeewhump

[shshshquietnow]

Hello! I'm Quiet and have been shadowing the whump scene for some time now, so I figure I'd try my hand at it! I'm a big fan of fantasy setting whump but I noticed a SURPRISING lack of it, and I intend to fix that >:) Especially right now as interested as I am in dnd, ha.

"Quiet whispering" will be my tag for original posts methinks. I'll tag all the stuff I like if you want to send writing requests about any of that.

[abhainnwhump]

Priest/Ghost hunter Whumpee is so close to finding the demon they're after, but it's faster acting than they think. Their body is possessed by the beast and they become the one thing they swore to destroy. As revenge, the demon ruins their relationships and career and Whumpee can only watch as the demon uses their mouth and body.

[3-2-whump]

No Update This Week, as I am On Vacay!!! And I take that fairly seriously.

So instead here’s a Demon!AU where our favorite whumper gets to be the whumpee 😈

(Demonology is hard, you guys, how the hell (pun intended) do you do it? 😵‍💫)

So in the Demon!AU, TJ is a lead vocalist to a meagerly successful band, and he makes a deal with the demon of music to make his band famous, which works, for a time, until said demon comes to collect 😈❤️‍🔥

This is just a half-baked idea for now, with some good drawings thrown in. There is no plot, just demon whump.

The usual Eternal Taglist: @kabie-whump @rainydaywhump @whumped-by-glitter @skittles-the-whumpee @generic-whumperz

@bamber344 @there-will-always-be-blood @morning-star-whump @a-la-whump @watermelons-dont-grow-on-trees

[skittles-the-whumpee]

Old Dealings

Chapter One - Sudden Discovery

<<<So, this is a canon side story to bring Skittles into Be Careful What You Wish For since her original story is inactive. I'm trying a new-for-me writing style so please, bear with me.>>>

TW: demon whumper, faerie whumper, human whumpee, degradation, pet whump, yelling, insults, human trafficking, mentions of death, mentions of torture, mentioned kidnapping

It's not often that Lord Daelan Darya of Greed is able to visit the human realm on leisure trips but that is where he finds himself today, somewhere in the Pacific Northwest, taking in the familiar scent of salty ocean air on the rooftop of his current love interest's home. The past year has been aggravating at best…he needs this vacation.

The past year had been spent searching for one particular person, one of his wards, a human he made a deal with over two decades ago…she's gone missing and not even his top trackers can find her. It's as if she's dropped off the face of the Earth, just completely vanished without a trace. So, to take his mind off things, he's come to spend some time away from Hell and his domain.

He feels hands sliding around his waist from behind as his lover wraps their arms around him, pressing their body against his back.

"Tense as always…well…I suppose less tense than you usually are."

"It's the ocean air, love. It's calmed me ever since I was a human child. Except back then, it was what is now known as the Persian Gulf." He says as he places his hands on theirs, cherishing their touch. "It was warmer, but this feels better, more calming."

"Have you ever gone back?"

"Hm? Yes…I-…I visit every now and then. It's so incredibly different than how it used to be. Still a dangerous place just…in different ways." He turns around and places his hands on their hips, pulling them in close. "Now, I seem to remember you telling me something about this new pet you've acquired but I have yet to see it. Is it shy?"

They giggle a little before standing on their tiptoes to kiss his cheek. "Yeah, she's just a bit nervous around new people. She's likely been avoiding you on purpose, she doesn't mean anything by it."

"Scared of the big bad demon lord, is she?" He asks with a playful chuckle.

"Want me to go find her?" Their head tilts cutely to the side as an equally playful smile crosses their lips.

"Yes, please. You know I like to check out your new pets. Especially after that pretty angel boy." He definitely has very fond memories of playing with the magpie angel, delicious blood and the prettiest singing voice.

They then turn on their heel with a smile, prompting Daelan to cop a feel, making them squeak and giggle as they wander off to go find their newest pet.

They look everywhere for her; the kitchen, the living room, her cell in the basement, they even look for her in their room seeing as she's hidden there before. There's no sign of her. The only other place they can think of is…oh shit…the greenhouse…on the roof.

Meanwhile, back up on the roof, Daelan has started pacing with a lit cigarette, smoking while he strolls around casually. It's very well-kept, likely because of the pets. Though, a bit of movement catches his eye through the partially warped glass on the side of the greenhouse and, like the proverbial cat, his curiosity is piqued and he slowly approaches.

There's someone in there, slowly watering the plants. They seem relaxed, at peace while they go about their task. He leans in to look inside, squinting to get a better view as he takes a hit from his cigarette, his eyes then opening wide as the person inside turns around.

"There is no way, in all the rings of Hell, that I'm this lucky…" He exclaims loud enough for the one inside to hear. Her back straightens and the watering can rattles as she begins to tremble…she knows that voice.

She looks over at the man in the window and feels her knees instantly go weak. She blinks, hoping that she's seeing things. Nope…that's him. He's here. But…how did he find her? She had changed hands so many times that she was so certain that he'd never find her.

His brows furrow in anger as he drops his cigarette, squashing it with his foot while staring at his missing ward. After all this time, there she is, watering plants…owned by someone else.

"Outside, NOW!" He demands with a growl, making her trembling worse. Cowering from his anger, she obeys, setting the watering can down before exiting the greenhouse with her hands folded neatly down in front of her and her head bowed in submission and fear. She's rightfully terrified, she had volunteered to be someone else's pet and flown halfway across the world to serve him when she truly belonged to Lord Daelan. Needless to say, she's in deep shit.

He's fuming, tapping his foot as she makes her way to him, kneeling before him just as he had trained her long ago.

"Do you have ANY idea how long I've been looking for you?! Where the FUCK have you been?" Each inflection makes her cower into herself more and more, trembling like a leaf.

"I-I-…I'm so-sorry…I-"

"DID I FUCKING ASK IF YOU WERE SORRY, YOU MISERABLE LITTLE SHIT?!" He bellows, his horns manifesting from pure rage. It's at that point that she starts sobbing in fear, she's seen him turn people to ash for lesser offenses. She cannot stop herself from pressing her forehead into the cold concrete of the roof, her tears dripping on it.

His lover reaches the roof and hears his yelling, wondering why their sweet pet is on her knees, sobbing with her head against the concrete. They figure she had offended him somehow…but…how? She's so sweet, she's never broken a rule and guests love her.

Daelan hears the door to the roof close and he turns, still rather angry, not quite able to switch it off at a moment's notice.

"What is going on up here? Skittles, what happened?" They ask, so very puzzled.

Before she can even open her mouth, Daelan raises a finger to them. "This is between me and her, love. Please stay out of it."

Wrong answer.

Their blood begins to boil at being told to stay out of something pertaining to one of their pets.

"Ex-fucking-cuse me?! She is mine and you will respect my authority in my own home." They command as they march right up to him, not even caring that he's the demon lord of Greed, this is their home and they're not about to let him tell them what to do…not here.

Daelan is actually so taken aback by them storming up to him that he's speechless, staring down at them with wide eyes. By the time he's able to collect his thoughts for a reply, they are standing strong, puffing their chest out and actually looking rather intimidating.

"But she's-…" He's barely even able to start a sentence before being cut off.

"NEED I actually adhere to the court order against you?" That makes him shut his mouth tight and shake his head. He then steps aside and over towards the edge facing the harbor, forcing himself to calm down before he does something that will risk his lordship title.

They watch him step away before kneeling down with their pet, completely shifting their attitude from a moment ago as they console the crying human. They rub her back, cooing softly that she's not in trouble and that she can go downstairs and get something to eat. She sniffles as she nods and slowly stands on shaky legs before making her way downstairs.

Once she disappears down the stairs and the door closes, they stand and slowly approach their lover, wrapping their arms around his waist from behind again, prompting him to gently place his on theirs.

"Care to explain what that was all about?" They ask in a calm tone.

He sighs and deflates a bit. "She's my missing ward…the one I've been looking for all this time and she was right under my nose. How long has she been here?"

"A few weeks, I bought her from my college friend, a fetch. He didn't say where he got her, though." It takes them a moment to fully register exactly what he said about her. "Wait…hold on…she is your missing ward?"

He nods, brushing his thumb over the back of their hand, their skin is delightfully soft, good for staying calm, given the circumstances. "Yeah. She is."

They raise their eyebrows in surprise. "Holy shit…talk about a small world. Like…what are the chances of that?"

"Impossibly slim."

"Well…since she was your property to begin with, you can have her back…as much as I'll miss her. She's a very sweet and obedient pet, try to take it easy on her." They offer as they press their cheek against his back in a hug.

Shocked by their offer, he turns back around to look them in the eye. "Are you sure, love? You seemed pretty steadfast when coming to her defense."

They look up at him and smile softly. "Yes, I'm sure. I can't withhold your property from you, so I'm returning her back to her rightful owner." They take a moment to think. "However, I'll only do so if you swear to me that you won't kill her."

He looks off to the side, thinking if it's even worth taking her back at this point before finally settling on a decision. He'll take her, she needs discipline but he'll keep her alive.

"I swear to keep her alive, you have my word. Thank you for returning her to me…I can finally put this wild goose chase to rest." He leans down and gives them a tender kiss, grateful to have them in his life. They keep him honest, completely unafraid of him and his aggressive habits, totally comfortable standing up to him without backing down. He's finally met his match.

Now to just get his pet home. She may be safe from death, but her previous owners are saints by comparison…and she's had some brutal owners.

BCWYWF Taglist (since this is a parallel story):

@whumpshaped @whumper-soot @dismemberment-on-a-tuesday-night @dragonfireridge @whumpofdory @astrowhump @batfacedliar @the-scrapegoat @livoftheparty @thebejeweledwatercat

[chaotic-orphan]

Winter Whumperland: day??

Trapped // bedside vigil // used as bait

Comfort mistletoe

Guardian of Blood

I know it’s so late, but my exams are finally over and I can get back to writing!

Also the only thing keeping me sane was bloodborne so enjoy this heavily blood imbued story!

TW: blood (lots of it), loss, friend’s deathbed, graphic injury, graphic depictions of violence, self-harm esque depictions of violence, wrist cutting (not self harm but still graphic and possibly squidgy, it made me uncomfortable to write but it just made sense for the story), powerless whumpees, betrayal, mentions of death, mentions of burial

*~*~*~*~*

Hero sat at Friend’s bedside holding their clammy hand and rubbing soothing circles over it, mumbling a soft spell of soothing under their breath as they went. Villain walked in during it, going to the other side of the bed and taking the damp cloth from Friend’s forehead and taking it to the kitchen.

They came back a moment later, the cloth dripping with cold water and placed it back on Friend’s forehead. Villain sat down on their chair, glaring at Hero as they whispered their spell.

“It’s not helping,” said Villain with a huff.

Hero stopped the spell and looked up at Villain. “It might be we don’t know.”

“They have the blight, Hero, magic doesn’t work and you know it!”

Hero stood up, dropping Friend’s hand. “Well at least I’m doing something!”

“Something useless! Magic is what brought on the fucking blight and—”

“So what?! You give up just like that,” Hero yelled with a click of their fingers and the candles in the room flared taller, “and rely on failed human remedies for a magic fever?! What, are you going to pray to a mythic god now to save you too? Be my guest!”

“Maybe if you—” Villain said pointing a finger at Hero before freezing, narrowed eyes widening a fraction as they looked down at Friend.

“What?!” Hero barked, throwing their arm wide. Below them Friend moaned and Hero’s anger dissipated as they sat down again, grabbing Friend’s hand. Villain leaned down and wiped away Friend’s hair that stuck to their forehead back.

“Friend,” Villain whispered softly. “Hey.”

“Cah—” Friend mumbled then coughed, their ribs hollowing with their cheeks as they descended into a coughing fit. Villain reached for the cloth and smoothed it down Friend’s face, gently shushing them. After a few seconds it died down, and Friend blinked glazed glassy eyes up at Villain and smiled a watery smile. “Can I not get a mom—” cough “—moments peace with you two?”

“Friend,” Villain smiled shaking their head down at them.

“We’re not arguing, we’re just worrying,” Hero told Friend. Friend turned their head very slowly and smiled at Hero.

“You worry very loudly.”

Hero laughed at that, looking up and meeting Villain’s gaze who was also chuckling softly.

“How are you feeling?” Villain asked, feeling Friend’s forehead with the back of their hand and hissing, sharply pulling their hand back.

“I’m freezing,” Friend said softly, “but other than that dying has been peaceful.”

“You’re not dying,” Hero said, tightening their grip on Friend’s hand. “You’re not.”

Friend huffed out a laugh and asked, “can you name one person who lived from the blight, Hero?”

Hero’s lips quivered against their chin and sniffed, turning their head away to fight the tears that threatened to fall.

“We won’t let you,” Villain told Friend, voice determined. “You can’t die. We won’t let you. We’ll find a way!”

“Stronger covens than us have tried,” said Friend, voice hoarse. “They all failed.”

“We—”

“No we,” said Friend, taking their hand and pressing it gently on Villain’s wrist. They tightened their hold in Hero’s hand and smiled, squeezing both their hands reassuringly. “Me.”

Hero broke down when they felt their connection ignite like a tuning fork finding perfect pitch. Friend’s power was so weak, blipping in and out. Something dark clawing it back as Friend tried to send it out, something trying to snuff out their light. It was ravenous and monstrous and more vicious than anything Hero had ever felt and they cried.

Villain was shaking above them, slowly getting to their knees, mouth open slightly in a slightly shocked expression. This is the first time that Friend had let them feel what they were feeling. The first time and maybe the last time that they would all feel each other’s magic. That they would all feel whole.

“I want you to know that you both mean the world to me. If I could do it all over, I’d always find my way back to you. We are bonded for this life and the next, and I’ll always be here with you. Stop arguing. Stop fighting. Comfort each other, lean on each other.”

“Friend,” Villain blubbered, sniffing back emotion. “Please, please don’t leave us. Please!”

“I’ll hold on,” Friend told them kindly as they let their connection fade. “I’ll hold on until I can’t anymore. I just needed you to know.”

“We love you too,” Hero said wetly.

“More than anything,” Villain agreed.

“Bury me the proper way,” Friend said. “Burn me, let my soul go with the wind. Promise me.”

Villain descended into sobs, so Hero was the one who agreed. “We will, we promise.”

“Good,” Friend said with a soft breath. “Good. I’ll sleep again now, but I won’t go yet.”

Hero felt their energy slowly dwindle until they went limp again in Hero’s hold. Villain’s entire body was shaking, shoulders jerking up and down with the sharp movements. Hero got up from their seat and walked around the bed to Villain and wrapped their arms around them.

“I know, I know,” Hero whispered, rubbing Villain’s back as they turned and buried their face into Hero’s jumper, clawed fingers grasping at Hero’s back and pulling them in closer. Their movements desperate and weighed down with an awful kind of grief.

“We can’t just let them die, Hero,” Villain wailed into Hero’s chest. Hero held them tighter, tears of their own trailing down their cheeks as they looked at Friend’s chest rise shallowly.

“We won’t, Villain. We’ll find a way. We’ll do whatever we can. Whatever it takes. I promise.”

*~*~*~*~*

The next day Hero woke in Villain’s armchair beside the bed, a blanket had been draped over them as they slept. They smiled a little, drawing the blanket closer over their shoulder as they slowly opened their eyes. Friend’s chest still rose and fell. Hero got comfortable and drifted back to sleep.

The smell of coffee woke them up the second time that day. They stretched and let out a sigh feeling refreshed as the blanket fell from their shoulders pooling around their waist. Hero’s eyes went to Friend, their chest rising and falling and then they focused on the coffee.

They rose from the chair, discarding the blanket behind them and walked past Friend’s bed into the kitchen. Villain was standing at the counter, an old tome open in front of them, a steaming cup of coffee warming their hands.

There was another cup of steaming coffee at the end of the counter and Hero smiled, walking towards it and blowing on the black liquid to cool it.

“You’re awake,” said Villain dully, their arm moving robotically as they took a sip from their coffee and turned to face Hero. Villain hadn’t slept in a while, their eyes weighed down with tired bags gathering beneath them.

“Thank you for the blanket,” Hero said.

Villain’s eyes glistened as they met Hero’s. “I found it,” Villain said, swallowing another gulp of coffee.

Hero blinked. “Found what?”

“I found a way to stop the blight,” Villain said, their voice croaking. Hero put their coffee down on the counter.

“Don’t mess with me Villain.”

“I wouldn’t mess about this, Hero. I found— I found a way. We can save Friend.”

Hero didn’t dare let hope bloom in their chest. Not yet.

“Tell me everything.”

Villain hesitated. Hero frowned. “Villain?”

“It’s just— I need, it— it’s a blood spell,” said Villain and Hero nodded. They knew it was something bad. “Listen, Hero I know, but it’s not like your average blood spell, okay? There’s a reason why no one has used it to survive the blight.”

“Okay,” Hero nodded, crossing their arms over their chest. “What is it?”

“The spell requires sanguine blood.”

Hero swallowed the lump in their throat. “Sanguine blood.”

Villain nodded. “I know. If you don’t want to do it—”

“You’re sure it will save Friend?”

“It’s our best chance,” Villain said earnestly.

Hero ignored their gut, ignored the flash of their grandfather’s face telling them to never use their blood in magic. That it was different and they were just guardians of it, that it wasn’t their blood.

But it was.

It was Hero’s blood that Villain and Hero needed to save Friend. The same blood that ran through their veins.

Hero met Villain’s gaze again. “Let’s do it.”

Villain crossed the distance between them in a blink and wrapped Hero in their arms. They were taller than Hero, so Hero’s head hit a hard chest before they knew what was happening and then they wrapped their arms around Villain’s waist.

“Thank you, Hero. Thank you. Thank you.”

Hero just tightened their arms around Villain in reply.

This better work.

*~*~*~*~*

A few hours later Villain came back into Friend’s room and nodded at Hero, running a hand back through their hair.

“Everything’s ready.”

Hero swallowed hard, taking their hand from Friend’s, the soothing spell dying on their lips.

“Okay,” they said because there was nothing else to say. They had agreed to this. Friend needed to be better. Villain nodded and went back to the kitchen, Hero following slowly after. Their hands were shaking so they clasped them in front of them.

Villain was leaning over their black clay bowl of mixed herbs and other ingredients needed for the spell. They smiled encouraging at Hero.

“Are you sure you want to do this, Hero?”

Hero nodded.

“Hero,” Villain said again, and Hero met Villain’s gaze with wide eyes. Villain walked around the table and walked to where Hero lingered by the door. They put a hand on Hero’s cheek. “I need you to tell me you still want to do this. You don’t—“”

“Friend would do it for me,” Hero said, cutting Villain off.

Villain’s expression softened. “That’s not a yes, Hero.”

“Of course I want to do it.”

“Say it again.”

Hero swallowed again. Closed their eyes as they took a deep breath, then exhaled. When they opened their eyes again they were more focused.

“I want to do this, Villain. For Friend.”

“For Friend,” Villain said again. Then they placed a gentle kiss on Hero’s forehead.

Villain withdrew and Hero found themselves chasing their warmth but they caught themselves as Villain returned to the bowl and picked up their wicked looking knife. Made of bone and whittled sharper than a razor, the handle a fine smooth wood.

Hero forced their legs to move and walked over to Villain, standing beside them gazing down dazed into the bowl.

“Uh, I— I need—“”

Hero rolled up their sleeve and held out their arm. “Take what you need.”

Villain’s hand cupped the back of Hero’s and held it over the bowl. With a sharp movement Villain drew the knife over Hero’s palm. Hero hissed and tried to pull their hand back but Villain held their hand firm.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Hero hissed.

It took a moment for the blood to appear, but when it did it streamed quickly down over Hero’s palm into the bowl below. Villain stared eagerly down into the bowl. Hero pulled their hand back once the stream had stopped but Villain frowned.

“What?” Hero asked, the blood having coagulated already.

Villain screwed their lips up. “I— it should have—“”

Hero frowned staring into the bowl.

“It didn’t work?”

Villain didn’t answer. Instead they turned and walked over to the counter where the book sat open on the page of the spell.

“It should have activated the ink.”

Hero blinked down at the bowl. “Yeah. It’s definitely not doing that. There’s barely a shimmer let alone a glow.”

“Maybe I did it wrong—“” Villain muttered.

Hero looked over their shoulder at Villain. “Or maybe we need more blood.”

“Hero—“”

“No. It’s okay,” said Hero already rolling up their other sleeve and grabbing the bone dagger. “It will hurt too much if we go over the same cut, so just use the other hand and go deeper this time.”

“Hero—“”

“Villain, trust me. How many times have we done spells and underestimated one aspect? It has to be the blood.”

Villain crossed to the table again, taking the knife in shaky hands. Hero looked up at them, smile encouraging and nodding. Villain licked their lips as they met Hero’s gaze before looking down quickly again and cupping their hand around Hero’s.

“Good and deep,” Hero said with a nod and Villain let out a breath. Then they sliced. Villain’s hand tightened on Hero’s again as they jerked their hand back and squeezed it, forcing the blood flow out faster.

“Are you—”

“I’m okay,” said Hero, biting their cheek to stop themselves from crying out. They watched the blood pump from their hand, more black than red. Hero remembered learning bright blood is light blood and they wanted to get sick at the colour streaming down their hand.

The pain melted away when the bowl below their hand ignited, glowing a dazzling maroon. Hero retracted their hand and Villain stopped them. Hero looked up at them in question as Villain wrapped a cloth around their palm before tying it off.

Hero didn’t say thank you. Instead they smiled at Villain when they finally released their hand.

“We should go as quick as possible,” Villain said, grabbing the bowl and walking quickly back into Friend’s room, Hero hot on their heels. “Hero would you light the candles and grab the knife from the kitchen?”

Hero clicked their fingers and the room flooded with light, every candle in the room igniting. Hero grabbed the bone knife and returned to see Villain scrawling strange symbols on Friend’s forehead, chest and hands.

“Good,” Villain said, putting the bowl down on the table beside Friend’s bed. “You stand the other side of the bed so the spell is balanced.”

Hero did as they were told and waited. They didn’t know the spell, if there were even any words at all.

“Hero, grab Friend’s hand.” Hero did so. Then Villain was reaching over the bed with an outstretched hand and Hero took theirs too. Hero and Villain held the knife between their palms.

Hero felt the connection sing between them, but there was something different about it. Something unusual. Hero put it down to the fact that they were using their own blood as a catalyst that made their heart lurch in their chest.

Villain started saying the spell and Hero felt their limbs lock into place. Even if they wanted to end it now they couldn’t. The flames around Friend’s bed burst into skinny pillars of flame as was natural with a spell of this nature. The doors slammed shut to the kitchen and the en-suite in Friend’s room.

That was the first pull Hero felt in their energy. They would have collapsed if it wasn’t for the spell keeping them in place.

“Villain—“” Hero called but Villain continued the spell.

There was a roaring in Hero’s ears like the wind was rushing through the house, through their clothes, through their hair like a thunderstorm. Everything seemed to go too fast, too loud, too violent.

Then the bone blade between Villain and Hero’s hand began to burn. Hero hissed in pain as the blade burned their hand as hot as an oven top and Hero screamed as it continued to get hotter and hotter and hotter.

“Villain! Stop!” Hero cried as their energy drained more and more until everything seemed to stop. The flames went back to normal. The wind stopped rushing. Hero’s hand stopped burning.

Then an almighty kick through their energy sent Hero and Villain back to the walls on either side of the room. Hero’s back hit the wall hard enough to knock the wind from their chest as they fell to the ground. Hero groaned, pushing themselves up to their knees. They cried out when their burned hand hit the wooden floor and sat back onto their knees, hissing.

Hero looked at their palm and saw a black symbol branded on it. A half circle, almost whole but fractured and cracked in places. Flames licking the sides of it like a half sun.

Hero glanced up to see Villain who was staring at Friend. Hero followed their gaze and froze in their spot. The bone blade was hovering red above Friend’s bed where Hero and Villain held it between their hands. Only now the red light almost engulfed the room, all the candles blew out and all that was left was the red bone.

Blood spurted from it like an fresh injury, a quick slice to the carotid artery, fountaining out and covering Friend’s bed in blood. Hero pushed themselves to their feet making their way towards Friend’s bed, but was stopped by an invisible wall two feet from Friend’s bed. Hero threw their hand forward but it couldn’t break the barrier, just bounced off.

They looked through and saw Villain doing the same thing from the other side, wide eyes panicking as they threw their shoulder against the barrier.

“Villain?!” Hero called and Villain met their gaze across the room. “What did you do?!”

Villain didn’t answer. Hero called out again, louder, more hysterical. “What did you do?!”

Hero watched as the blood started dripping from the bed onto the floor into a deep dark pool, spreading faster than it should have towards Hero. When the blood reached Hero’s feet it stopped moving. Hero stared down at it, heart hammering against their skull. They could feel the pulse in their throat.

Then a single strand of blood shot out of the pool like barbed wire and imbedded itself through Hero’s wound in their palm. Hero cried out as they were wrenched forward and fell through the barrier. The wire dragged Hero to their knees in the pool of blood by Friend’s bed before a second wire shot out of the pool and wrapped itself around Hero’s other hand.

Hero bit back a startled cry, biting their lips to stop themselves from making any sound. Villain was still pushing against the barrier, stuck on the other side. Screaming Hero’s name and Friend’s name, powerless to help either of them.

Hero closed their eyes and started mumbling a spell under their breath. They had only got two words out before a hand gripped their cheeks and yanked them forward.

It pulled hard on the wires in Hero’s palms and they cried out when they met two golden eyes. Hero froze.

This isn’t real.

This isn’t real.

The hand holding Hero’s cheeks in a merciless grip was attached to a man crouching on the end of Friend’s bed like a gargoyle. He tilted his head at Hero, then tilted Hero’s head with their hand to mimic him. Hero pulled at the barbed wire and grit their teeth to keep from crying out, glaring at the man from the blood.

“You made a mistake, little one,” the man cooed tightening their grip. “You should know that Sanguine blood is sacred. Holy. Surely you have heard the stories, hmm?”

Hero glared at the man remaining stubbornly silent. Then the man let go of Hero’s cheeks and Hero could sit back on their knees again, stretching their jaw and cheeks.

“What is the family motto?”

Hero said nothing. The corner of the man’s lips tugged up into a half smile. Then the blood started moving towards Friend and Hero’s heart leapt into their throat.

“Custos sanguinis!” Hero bit out.

The blood stopped flowing towards Friend and retreated back to the man.

“And what does that mean little one?”

Hero swallowed, something huge dawning on them. Something like terror and realisation all mixed into one and they suddenly felt so stupid for going against their instinct. Their family.

“It is not our blood,” Hero remembered their Grandfather say with urgency in his voice. “We are just guardians of it.”

“Guardians of the blood,” Hero said, their voice cracking weakly.

The man smiled and got off the bed, crouching down to Hero’s level. Two glinting golden eyes stared at Hero, so close, too close. Inhuman and wild.

“Whose blood?” The man asked quietly. Hero shook their head but the man didn’t let them. They reached a hand out and cupped a hand under Hero’s chin. “Answer me, child.”

Hero felt the cold grip of panic seize their throat. “It’s— it’s just a story,” Hero tried but seeing them there in front of Hero, Hero knew they were lying to themselves.

The man’s hand tightened, even though Hero knew he wasn’t really a man.

“Whose blood, child?” He asked, impeccably calm.

“The infernal one,” Hero whispered. The man smiled. The thing smiled showing his pointed canines. He let go of Hero’s chin and stood up letting out a long, luxurious sigh. Then he raised a hand and clicked his fingers and Villain fell through the barrier with a sharp cry. Their hands fell straight into the black blood.

“I haven’t heard that name in so long,” the infernal one said turning to face Villain. Villain was trying to pull their hands back but the blood stuck to them and pulled them back in. “I guess I have you to thank for freeing me.”

“We didn’t know,” Hero said, panic seizing their words, desperate for the demon to turn and face Hero again but he didn’t. His golden eyes were blazing down at Villain.

“I don’t know, child. I think one of you knew,” the man said, a smile in his voice. Hero didn’t care for it though, instead they looked at Villain’s face because surely… but the moment their eyes landed on Villain all they could see was guilt.

Hero couldn’t keep the accusation out of their voice: “You knew?!”

Villain didn’t look at Hero, instead they kept their gaze fixed on the demon. “Yeah. I knew, but it’s the only way to save Friend Hero! You said you’d do anything. Whatever it takes.”

“I like your ambition,” the demon said. “You want me to take away the blight.”

“Yes,” Villain huffed, emotion clogging their throat. “Please. I’m begging you.”

“Villain! Don—” Hero squeaked and then their voice was gone. They opened their mouth to scream but no sound came out. Hero pulled against the wire keeping them in place, trying to get their legs under them and wincing, screaming silent.

“What’ll you give me in return?”

“I freed you,” said Villain. “I was hoping—”

“Nothing is for nothing. The guardian could have told you that,” the demon said, looking over their shoulder at Hero with a wicked sharp grin. Hero grit their teeth and pulled at the wire, getting one of their feet under them until they were dragged back down to their knees. Wires wrapped tight around Hero’s thighs locking them in place. The demon didn’t take away Hero’s ability to cry and tears started streaming down their face. “What will you give me?”

“Anything,” Villain said without hesitation. “Please. Friend is the best of us. They don’t deserve to die. Please.”

The man reached down and put a hand on Villain’s head. Villain stilled, eyes finally crossing the room to Hero. Hero jerked forward but didn’t get far.

“A favour,” the demon said finally and Villain’s eyes flickered up. Hero’s heart lurched in their chest. That was the one thing that Hero’s grandfather had warned them about. Their struggles renewed but Villain didn’t notice, their attention was only on the demon.

“You’ll cure Friend of the blight?” Villain asked.

“They’ll be good as new.”

“I want them healthy, the way they were.”

“You’re not a fool,” the demon hummed. “You have my word. Your friend will be cured.”

“And I want them immune from the blight.”

The demon tilted their head. “Would you like to be immune as well?”

“If it’s not too much to ask.”

“And the guardian?” the demon asked. Hero stilled.

“All of us,” Villain said without hesitation.

“Alright. You have yourself a deal. Stand.”

The blood melted down Villain’s arms and they gingerly pulled their hands back. They glanced at Hero who shook their head. Villain’s expression fixed into an apologetic one.

“It’s the only way, Hero.”

The demon looked over their shoulder at Hero, lips quirked up. “Hero,” the demon said, as if testing how Hero’s name felt on their tongue. Hero glared at the demon, but they probably looked pathetic with their tear stained cheeks.

The demon turned to Villain again and grabbed their hand.

“What’re you—?” Villain asked, but by the time the words left their mouth the demon had already rolled up Villain’s sleeve and curved their fingers into talons befitting of a giant beast.

“Hey, wait— FUCK!” Villain cursed as the demon sliced down Villain’s inner arm, elbow to wrist and stopping in the middle of their palm. Four claw marks gushed deep, dark blood and Hero wanted desperately to look away but horror rooted them in place staring vacantly at Villain.

A river of blood spurted out of Villain’s wound and all colour drained from their face. They looked like they were about to faint and Hero’s heart lurched in their chest screaming Villain’s name.

“There we go, almost done,” the demon said, switching the blade to their other hand and cutting their own wrist. The demon held their wrist over Villain’s wound and let the blood drip slowly down into Villain’s veins. The moment the blood touched Villain’s the wound knitted itself back together with black veins.

Villain was ashen as the blood pumped from their wrist.

“Sssh, ssh, ssh. You’re doing so well, little one.”

After the demon ran their blood down Villain’s wound until it all stitched together again, the demon sliced their wrist again and dropped Villain’s hand. Villain stumbled back a step but the demon grabbed the back of Villain’s head and shoved their wrist against Villain’s mouth. Villain pushed back against it, but they were too weak to fight off the demon in their state.

The demon stepped closer to Villain as Villain tried to step back, shushing them all the while. “It’s almost over, once you ingest my blood the deal is sealed.”

Villain didn’t fight the demon anymore after that. They just accepted the words and went limp in the demon’s arms.

“Good,” the demon said, pulling their wrist away from Villain’s mouth. “Very good. You feel that connection Villain?”

Villain stumbled back. Then they gasped and grabbed their freshly healed arm as if it was in pain.

“Good,” the demon said. Villain looked up through pained eyes before their eyes rolled to the back of their head and they collapsed.

“VILLAIN!” Hero cried, their voice thick and raw as if they had been screaming for hours. The demon turned to face Hero again, golden eyes inquisitive.

“How unusual… I suppose I am over exerting myself on the first day of freedom, but still,” the man said, tilting his head at Hero. “You guardians always did intrigue me.”

“Why?” Hero asked, their voice coming out through shaky whispered breaths.

The man shrugged. “Because I can. Because Villain was desperate, and I am the only thing that could cure the blight. It is my disease after all.”

The shock must have shown on Hero’s face because the demon laughed. “Yes, oh yes. The price for locking me away, Hero. Didn’t any of your bloodline warn you against blood magic? Sanguine blood magic?”

“They were…” Hero said, swallowing hard. Their eyes flickering back to Villain’s body crumpled on the ground. “They were just bedtime stories, not histories.”

“Mmm,” the man hummed. The wires tightened around Hero’s thighs and they winced. “Tell me Hero do they feel real to you?”

“You promised you’d cure Friend,” Hero spat instead.

The demon smiled. “Oh I intend to, and don’t worry. They’re still alive for now. If I let them die then Villain doesn’t owe me a favour anymore and we both know I always cash in on my favours.”

“They didn’t know what they were agreeing to,” Hero pleaded. “Punish me instead, give me the favour.”

The man’s hand morphed into the beast claw if was to cut Villain’s. “If you want Hero I can make you a deal as well.”

“No,” Hero said. “Then you’ll just have us both.”

“So you are intelligent. Good.”

The demon clicked his fingers again and the wires melted away from Hero’s thighs and hands like water. Hero glanced up at the man, waiting for the trick but he didn’t seem bothered by Hero’s suspicion.

“I have been locked away for years, Hero,” the demon told them. “I would really love a cup of tea.”

[whumpsday]

Kane & Jim AU: Angels & Demons

Kane & Jim AUs Masterlist

content: failed escape attempt, demon whumper, angel whumpee, wing whump, magical exhaustion, magical whump, captivity

oh hey, remember that angel & demon au i talked about back in july? finally writing something for that! might do more pieces in this au at some point, but not anytime soon.

@amonthofwhump​ March Trope-A-Thon Day 4: Fantasy / Magical Exhaustion / Wing Whump / Wish Gone Wrong / Magical Healing

It had been more than a year since the demon took him prisoner, and Jim was frantic in his search for a way out. Unfortunately, Kane’s lair proved near-ironclad from the start, and had only become more so in the time since.

Ever since the magicless demon began siphoning his magic, Jim had become weaker day by day, exhausted by even moving around. Meanwhile, the demon grew more powerful by the day with his stolen magic, flaunting it about to his peers as if it were his own while Jim stayed huddled up back home, the secret Kane would never reveal.

But there was a catch: the demon had been getting sloppy. As Jim became too tired to do more than lay in bed all day, halo dim and soft wings curled around himself, Kane assumed him weaker than he truly was. He wasn’t leaving Jim so restrained anymore.

So, on a day when the demon didn’t siphon as much magic as usual, Jim waited until Kane left for the day and made a break for it. He was still woozy and exhausted, but he knew he had to take this chance while it presented itself.

He stood up and beat his wings, taking off into the air, relishing in the feeling of having enough energy to fly.

But he’d miscalculated.

He was only about fifty feet into the air when he realized he didn’t have as much energy as he’d thought he might, the demon’s siphoning having done a number on him. It was too much, the effort required to keep himself in the air too great, especially when he needed to go straight up in order to get back to Earth, let alone Heaven.

Jim faltered, plummeting down, only able to do as much as a single flap to slow his descent. He fainted from exhaustion before he even hit the ground.

-

Jim woke back in his bed. Not his home-bed back in Heaven, not his guest-bed at Liz’s house on Earth, but his prison-bed: this time with a shackle, giving off the cruel warmth of hellfire. Not enough to burn, but more than enough to keep him from breaking the restraint. He ached, but not too horribly. Maybe he’d been able to slow his descent enough to prevent serious injury, or maybe the demon had used some of his stolen magic to heal him. He couldn’t say.

He’d failed. There would be no escape for him, now. Jim wept, wrapping his wings around himself, the feathers encompassing him.

He flinched as the demon suddenly appeared in the room, glowing with Jim’s own magic.

“Nice little stunt you pulled here today, angel,” Kane growled, not an ounce of sympathy in his angry features.

Jim cringed back, curling up smaller. He missed being called by his name. The soft voices of his fellow angels calling him James, or Liz excitedly calling him Jim, a moniker he’d taken to using at the human girl’s influence. Not angel. So impersonal, said in the demon’s tone as if it made him inferior.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly, attempting to placate him. “It was- it was a foolish idea. I didn’t have nearly enough magic to get anywhere. You know that. I won’t try it again.”

“You definitely won’t. I’ll make sure of that.” Kane stalked closer. His own wings, featherless like a bat’s, flared with irritation. “Sit up straight.”

Jim hated the way he was beholden to the demon’s orders. But what could he really do but obey? Kane was a hundred times stronger than him by now. He sat up, silently, though he held his pride in not responding with the Yes, sir the demon clearly wanted.

“I’ve been doing some research while you rested.” Kane rolled his eyes, as if Jim’s state of exhaustion wasn’t entirely the demon’s fault. “Many humans own birds, you know. So they’re practiced in this sort of thing.”

“I’m not a bird,” Jim protested indignantly. “And you do not own me.”

“You may as well be. The humans invented this process called wing clipping to keep their birds from escaping, or getting where they don’t belong.” Kane held his hand out, and a set of shears appeared in it.

“You’re going to cut my wings off?!” Jim cried, thudding back hard against the wall, his chain rattling with the sudden motion. “No, you can’t!”

“Yes, I can. I can do whatever I want,” the demon reminded him. “But no, I’m not going to cut your wings off. Just a few feathers.” He reached out for Jim’s wing, but he immediately tucked them both tightly behind himself, smushing the feathery appendages against the wall.

“The humans do that to their own pet birds?” Jim asked, tears in his eyes. He couldn’t imagine Liz doing that. But maybe as a guardian, his view of humans was tinted rosy. Besides, she was just a child. They tended to be more innocent.

“It doesn’t hurt the birds, apparently. So stop behaving like an infant and give me your wing before I do decide to cut them off,” Kane snapped, motioning for Jim to hold his wing out.

“I’m not a bird!” Jim insisted, voice pitching up with fear. Angels’ wings were sensitive, they could feel. “It’s going to hurt! I’m already shackled and don’t have the energy to fly in the first place! You don’t need to do this!”

“Using my magic to keep a shackle active at all hours of the day isn’t practical. I can either clip your wings once every few months, or cut them off entirely. Pick one.” The demon gestured once again, hand outstretched.

Jim whimpered, the tears in his eyes finally starting to fall. Reluctantly, he peeked out one trembling wing, the other still tucked protectively behind him.

Kane grabbed it roughly, spreading it to its full length by force. Jim shuddered at the feeling: he hated this. He hated hated hated it. Hatred was not a feeling he’d ever been too familiar with before Kane, but he felt it nearly every day now.

“Do not move, unless you want me to cut more than I initially intended.” Spreading Jim’s wing out with one hand, Kane readied the shears with the other.

Heeding the demon’s warning, Jim tensed himself, stilled other than his nervous trembling as he felt the cool metal against his delicate feathers.

Snip.

Jim screamed as agony as the shears chopped his outermost six feathers in half, the sharp, explosive pain almost like the demon had cut his fingers instead. He instinctively tried to fold his wing back up protectively, but that only made his wing tug against Kane’s grip, and he let out another cry.

“Stop! Stop stop stop!” he pleaded, tears streaming down his face.

Kane released his wing, and Jim winced as he folded it, the position even more painful on the fresh-cut screaming nerves.

The demon gestured toward the other wing. “Again.”

“NO!” Jim wailed. “I get it! I can’t fly with one working wing anyway!” He felt his pride crumble at the thought of both his wings experiencing this. “Please, sir.”

Kane hesitated, seeming to evaluate, then let out a sigh. “Prove it.”

“What?” Jim asked tearily.

“Prove it. Try your best to fly.” Kane pressed a hand to Jim’s chest, and he felt a little bit of his own magic flowing back into him. The shackle disappeared.

Jim hadn’t felt this much energy since before the demon took him down to Hell.

Kane stepped back. “I’ll be able to tell if you’re faking it,” he warned.

Jim nodded uneasily. He stretched both wings out carefully: the thought of trying to fly with this injury was... extremely unappealing, but it was certainly better than having it duplicated.

He beat his wings, and immediately cried out in pain, falling to the floor after gaining no more than three feet in height.

“Effective,” Kane noted. “Very well. I’ll leave the other one alone. As long as you don’t try to escape again.”

Jim scooted away from him. “...Thank you.”

The demon closed the distance easily, crouching over him and pressing his hand to Jim’s chest again. He felt the energy leave him as Kane took the magic away, letting out a groan.

“I’ll be back tomorrow.” And with that, the demon disappeared.

With great effort, Jim hauled himself back onto the bed, his feathers throbbing with pain. He wrapped his wings around himself, the cutout in his wing leaving a hole in the previously-blanketing coverage.

-

also a note since i just posted a different demon thing yesterday: this has totally distinct, separate lore, completely unrelated.

taglist to be added in reblog!