#mwmday16

[serickswrites]

Say AAAAAA

Warnings: captivity, restraints, whipping, blood, unconsciousness, cruel whumper

Whumper cracked the whip close to Whumpee. They had careful control over the whip to ensure it wouldn't hit Whumpee until they were ready. Whumpee jumped with each crack.

"Pl-Pl-Please," Whumpee begged. "I'll....I'll do anything. Please."

Whumper smiled. They had Whumpee exactly where they wanted Whumpee. From the long lines of their back, pulled tight with the chains attached to the whipping post to the delightful sounds of their whimpers. Whumper couldn't be happier. "Anything?"

Whumpee nodded vigorously. "Anything. Please. Please. Don't hurt me."

"Say aaaaaa," Whumper said sweetly.

Whumpee paused. Whumper could see their shoulders begin to shake. "Say aaaaaaa for me, Whumpee," Whumper commanded again.

Whumpee swallowed audibly. "AaaaaAAAAAAAAA!" Whumpee's words turned to a shriek of pain as Whumper brought the whip down across Whumpee's back, the skin splitting quickly. Whumper brought the whip down once more, watching as blood flowed from the new wound as well.

Whumpee's shrieks and squeals of pain were continuous as Whumper brought the whip down over and over. It was only when Whumpee sagged in the chains, their head lolling forward did Whumper begin to slow their pace. It wasn't as much fun to whip an unconscious person, though Whumper did enjoy watching the blood flow down Whumpee's skin.

"Guess we will have to continue this later," they muttered as they gave one final flick of their wrist, cracking the whip across Whumpee's back once more. "We have all the time in the world."

[shes-some-other-where]

“Naïve fool.”

Prompt: Naïve

Contains: whipping, gag, taunting

“Naïve fool.” The overseer stood nearby, smiling. Laughing. “You believe you’ve made yourself a hero. You’ve only made yourself look weak.”

The prisoner’s growl of, “Go fuck yourself,” was lost to the wood pressed against his tongue.

His face burned with humiliation. He’d endured a great number of indignities since his arrest, trial, and sentence to hard labour. He could bear the stares and sneers and shackles. He could bear this. Yet it still felt shameful, standing half-naked and immobilized—and now silenced, too.

The whip bit into his back.

He choked out an involuntary scream, blinded by slicing, white-hot pain.

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[whump-in-the-closet]

The Merry Whump of May

@themerrywhumpofmay

May 16th- “Take a Break.”

[Branding Iron | Cemetery | Moonlight]

***

(tw: branding, death threat, implied past torture, magical whump, a guy gets speared with ice)

Villain had given up on finding their Sidekick.

It had been two months. Two long, dragging, horrible months. Nothing.

Villain hoped Sidekick had decided to change their identity and beat it to another country. They hoped they had faked their death and were living somewhere far, far away. Hey, maybe there were even happy.

Maybe they had learned to smile again. Sidekick had stopped smiling years ago.

Maybe Sidekick had followed the call of the void. The l'appel du vide. To simply disappear. Vanish. Never to be seen again.

Villain walked with their head down and hands shoved deep in their pockets. Because their gloves were ripped and did little to keep out the cold.

They had been feeling the l'appel du vide recently. Maye they would take a vacation. Buy a car and drive and drive and drive until they reached dirt roads. Then they would keep driving until the roads disappeared entirely, taking them with it.

But not today. Today was Monday and their shift was almost done. They really should buy some new gloves. Their fingers were going to be numb by the time they got home.

They passed by a cemetery without noticing it-- memorial stones crooked and gaping like teeth in the moonlight.

Villain walked by it. Stopped. Walked backwards, hair lifting on the back of their arms.

The shadows behind the stones had shifted. A new light had appeared– the raw red of an open flame. In contrast to the watery moonlight and its cool touch, the fire seemed bright and garish. Wrong. 

Villain didn't always think things through. They couldn't afford the time. They either acted, or they didn't.

They acted. They were over the gate in a heartbeat. Crouching low over the ground, Villain was hit with the smell of upturned dirt and rot. It brought to mind images of creeping worms and decaying skin.

Lovely. What joy.

Using the shadows and the towering stone memorials for cover, Villain crawled closer to the fire. 

The darkness had distorted into four separate people around the pit. Three stood together, while the fourth stood over the pit, hands clasped behind him.

As Villain's eyes adapted to the firelight, they were able to make out that the group of three people was in fact two people holding someone between them.

The third figure had his hands tied behind his back and wild hair in his eyes.

The world tilted. Shit.

In the flickering shadows, Villain could see the terror whip across the prisoner's face. It rose and fell as he tried to mask it. A trickle of blood dripped from his nose where he could not wipe it away. Every so often, he’d desperately try to lick it off. 

The defiance? Unmistakable. The fear? That was new.

Sidekick, apparently, had not escaped to another city.

The temperature dropped several degrees around Villain. A deep cold filled them. Not anger. Not horror. Just...empty. And so, so cold.

“--I told you to give it up,” said the man by the firepit in a voice barely louder than the snapping flames. “Did you listen? No. You had to keep on trying to escape, again and again and again.” 

Villain hissed through clenched teeth. They did not like where this was headed. Not in the slightest. They had lost feeling in their hands and now the cold spread up their arms.

L'appel du vide.

Though they were a good distance away from the fire, they could feel it on their face— blistering and painful. 

“There is no escape from us.” The man slipped on a pair of gloves and reached for a metal rod that had been resting in the firepit. 

Muscles curled like wires inside Villain as they watched. 

The rod was a branding iron. White-hot at the tip, curling to red. The pattern at the end was the insignia of the Agency.

The cold increased around Villain, breath freezing on their lips.

Sidekick struggled, biting and snarling, as the man approached, branding iron held like it was some lofty and sacred tool of higher purpose and not an instrument of torture. 

“Please–” Sidekick's voice was nothing but a shattered whisper, hoarse from screaming. “Don’t– don’t do this.” 

The man didn’t respond, merely nodding to his companions to rip the prisoner's shirt off. Which they did, with ruthless efficiency. 

Enough. 

Something inside Villain snapped. They stood, shadows falling off their skin like a discarded cloak to pool at their feet. The cold pooled out with the shadows. Unstoppable.

“Touch my Sidekick and I'll kill you." I will enjoy staring down at your lifeless corpse.

The man dismissed Villain with a laugh. "Stand down. This is official Agency business." The brand hovered only a moment–curling red over dark skin– before beginning its plunge. 

"And that is my sidekick."

The cold erupted into splintering ice, spearing the man through his hand. Blue ice completely swallowed the two companions who’d held Sidekick.

In the flashing light, Villain caught sight of blood and splintering-white bone in the darkness. A scream.

The branding iron fell to the ground and burned the grass. 

Sidekick lay gasping on the ground, eyes locked on the iron. It was a bit too close for comfort.

Villain did not stop with spearing the man. They sent another jagged edge of ice through him. And another. And yet another. Until all four limbs were transfixed to the ground with icicles.

If Villain hadn't been so empty, they would have laughed at the comedic value of it all.

They walked past the firepit and past the now-unconscious man. They crouched down in the rotting dirt by Sidekick, knocking away the branding iron. 

“Hey.” 

Wild eyes. Deer-in-headlights eyes.

“It's me.” They drew a knife and he flinched back. “Oh. Sorry. It’s for the ropes.” 

The only answer was shaky breathing. Villain carefully cut away the ropes and Sidekick jerked his hands away, rubbing his blistered wrists. 

"Are you hurt anywhere else?"

Sidekick lunged forward, almost knocking Villain backwards. He hugged Villain. It took a minute for Villain to realise that Sidekick was crying.

The cold dissolved inside Villain. The void retreated into aching silence. They sheathed the knife and wrapped their arms around Sidekick in a hug.

Shaking sobs.

Villain was also crying.

"Missed you," managed Villain.

"They-- they said you weren't coming."

Villain exhaled sharply. They didn't answer at first. Then: "C'mon. Let's get you home. You're going to be taking a long break. In fact, let's call it a vacation."

Villain stood and half-supporting Sidekick, left the burning light of the cemetery behind and walked in the moonlight. 

[shywhumpauthor]

The Merry Whump of May—Day 16

“Take a break”

Branding Iron | Moonlight | Cemetery

Surveillance Masterlist || Merry Whump of May Masterlist

(I don’t know when this is. Noah’s timeline is all fucked up. Late captivity, but he still wanted to be defiant for a day ig? Let’s say it’s a couple weeks before “You’ve lost”)

Cw: torture, branding, beating, restraints, blood, noncon nudity (mostly partial, non sexual), threats

Noah rocked backwards, gritting his teeth against a cry of pain, the thick coppery taste of blood spilling through his mouth as a fist slammed against his jaw.

Red leaked from his nose, pouring down the front of his chin and dripping to his bare chest. The exposure left him cold, goosebumps pricking along his arms, wrenched above his head and tethered in place with a length of chain and tight cuffs that bit into his flesh, digging against the bruises already there. He had grown rather used to that, though, and while some days he was fortunate enough to be given a plain, thin shirt not all that dissimilar than to scrubs a nurse or somebody would wear, they usually ended up being cut from his torso with a knife, the guards lacking the patience to manhandle it off of him.

He’d learned quickly now that when he was told to strip, to fucking listen, because then at least he’d have a damn chance at getting his shirt back after the torture.

With how cold it got in the cells at night, and how often his blanket was confiscated by only the guards’ cruel humor as intention, unless he wanted to spend the whole night huddled in the corner trying not to freeze, he kind of had to comply.

Noah spat, a mouthful of blood falling to the floor by the guard’s feet in front of him, coughing as he swayed unsteadily. His shoulders ached, a deep strain pulling his muscles all up his arms numb. He could barely stand on his toes, calves cramping but it was that or dislocate his shoulders and slump forwards.

“I t- told y’h,” he grunted, taking a moment between blows to drag in a wheezing breath. “‘m not… not ss-sayin’ shit.”

Standing off to the side, Declan chuckled. There was little amusement behind his tone.

“Oh, my friend, I don’t doubt that. Your will is admirably strong, but so is your foolishness.”

The man pushed up from where he sat, leaning against the side of the interrogation table, waving the guards back so he could step in front of Noah. Declan’s hand raised, gripping tightly around Noah’s jaw, and though the strain of his position pulled him higher, Declan was still just taller, tilting Noah’s head to bring him to eye-level.

“I was just waiting for you to say that.” He murmured, dragging his thumb over the blossoming bruise across Noah’s jaw.

The man stepped back, letting Noah’s chin drop before he managed to righten himself a moment later, exhaustion weighing heavy on his bones as he forced his head to stay raised.

The guards had moved out of Noah’s line of sight, and even as he tried to strain and look back over his shoulder, he still couldn’t see where they had gone, but the low shuffling of footsteps and a quiet hiss told him that they hadn’t left the room.

“I’ve been waiting for this order to come in for months,” Declan began, his tone nonchalant as he watched the activity behind Noah. “You should feel very special, my friend, I had this custom made just for you.”

“The ff’ck’re you t- talkin’ ab’t?” Noah wheezed, his voice scraping against his dry throat.

“Well, first my plan was to simply tattoo you, but I didn’t believe that was enough. I wanted to make a lesson out of this,“ Declan smirked, crossing his arms over his suit. Dressed impeccably, as usual, the outfit was clearly expensive. Against the dark wool, though, by the neatly folded cuffs of his sleeves, there were dark speckles of stain, made visible in the harsh lighting.

There was a small crackle behind Noah, but he didn’t bother to try and turn this time, a deep dread pooling cold in his stomach. An inkling of what was to follow crept in his mind, and he had no doubts that Declan would carry out something like that, but he shoved them from his mind before he could sink too deeply into the fear and hopelessness that began to creep up his throat.

“You will break on your own time, Noah. When you do, I will be here. You will pledge your loyalty and resume your job with restrictions. Until then, I am free to do as I wish.” Declan didn’t move from where he stood, but as he spoke his presence seemed to grow until it was stifling, choking Noah as much as a noose. “I will chip away at you until there is nothing left to break. For this, however, I’ll let you choose. Where do you want it?”

“W’nt.. what?” Noah grit out, but there was nothing but a shallow anger behind his voice, overshadowed by the shake in his tone.

“Oh, my friend, you know exactly what. You have three seconds to answer before I choose for you, and believe me, you will not appreciate where that goes.”

Noah faltered, stumbling to find the words through his pain clouded, throbbing mind.

“Back,” He spat the word like it was acid on his tongue, but the effect was dulled by the tears welling in his eyes, threatening to spill down his reddened cheeks.

“Wonderful decision. Just between the shoulder blades, I’m sure it will heal just stunningly.” Declan smirked, his attention turning to the shuffling movement behind Noah.

“Wh-wait no,” he tried to protest, rushing to get the words out, while they blended together to near incomprehensibly. “Low-lower-”

“Oh but you didn’t say that, Noah. Now, I suggest you hold still, if you mess this one up, the next will be to that pretty little face of yours.”

A sharp hiss could be heard just behind him, and Noah gasped, hearing the awful sizzling of skin scorching before he felt the pain.

——————————————————

@themerrywhumpofmay

Tag list: @pickleking8 @blood-enthusiast @t0rture-me @sparrowsage @enigmawritesstuff @whump-me

If any of you have ideas/suggestions for more mwm prompts you’d like me to use Noah in, let me know! (Seriously, please. Someone suggest something)

[its-my-whump]

The Merry Whump of May/ Medi Whump May—Day 16

confusion, weakness, emotional and physical exhaustion

@themerrywhumpofmay: “Take a break.” - Moonlight - Cemetery

@mediwhumpmay : dizzy

His steps became more and more unsteady. The light of the full moon only partly lighting his way. Too many trees stealing most of the ghostly white away. He stumbled over some branches. The cracking of dried twigs was carried over the empty cemetery.

He lost his footing and just fell. His knees connected with something hard and unmovable. Probably the only damn gravestone that was flat on the ground in his whole proximity. A painful, only partly suppressed, grunt escaped his lips. “Dammit.” He added through clenched teeth, his right knee shouting sharp spikes of pain right to his brain, overthrowing his dizziness for a brief moment.

“What's up, Jay?” His friend whispered through the night. Jay wanted to get back to his feet, but the dizziness rushed in again with a vengeance. He was swaying, instead of getting back up his hands needed to reach for the ground.

Soft soil and moist grass under his fingers stopped him from falling over completely, but his vision was blurry. It probably had been for some time by now, he didn't know. Stumbling over an abandoned graveyard in the middle of the night, his eyes hadn't had much to really focus on to.

Nausea and fatigue were battling to get the upper hand. One wanted to make it's way up his throat, the other lay heavy on his head and wanted to convince him to roll over and give in.

“Hey, hey, hey. Jay? Take a break, man.” Like a ghost floating through moonlight and darkness, a diffuse shape had approached him. But a ghost, wouldn't need to get on his knees and the hand on his shaking shoulder wouldn't be that warm, if it belonged an illusion of his mind, right?

He was cowering like a weary dog on all fours. But he needed to get up again. No chance for a break, even if he was longing for one.

“Noo. We need to find her.” Jay pushed the hand on his shoulder away, almost falling over. He was swaying dangerously, still he was summoning all his remaining strength to get back up. But the trembling sensation in his head beg to differ.

“We can come back tomorrow. Where we can actually see.” His friend trying to be the voice of reason.

“No!” Jay pushed himself to his feet. He was unsteady, his legs stumbling forward. There was hardly any real tension in his muscles. Only his damn stubbornness keeping him vertical.

“But Jay, let's come back during daylight. You need to lay down, you can hardly stay on your feet. She'll still be here ...” His friend whispered consternated, but interrupted himself. '... because she is been dead for years.'

Jay was heavily grabbing onto the live size statue of an angle to catch his breath. His legs on the edge to give in, his friend could see even from a distance, Jay half covered from the falling shadow of the statur watching over him.

“No. I need to find her. She's my sister.”

[autobot2001]

A New Challenge

@mediwhumpmay: dizzy @themerrywhumpofmay: "Take a break." (Snippet from Hidden Killer) 

Prowl has been helping the police with the serial killer investigation. With the number of victims adding up, he sees this case as urgent. Denying the lack of clues to lead to an arrest. He's been working on the case for sixteen hours a day. Hating the endless circle of reviewing the little evidence the police has.

Three days of this schedule starts to affect him. He starts feeling dizzy. Prowl thinks he's dehydrated, but drinking water doesn't help him. "You're overworked," Ratchet tells him, "it's obvious without a health exam." "Take a break," Optimus insists, "you know this case is unfortunately at a standstill," Prowl knows Optimus will order him if he has to. Ratchet will declare Prowl unfit for duty if he has to, "I believe you have another case to deal with. If you know what I mean." Prowl realizes he shoved building a friendship with Jamie to the side even while wanting to work on it for a year. What irony I thought of that when the Holiday Killer first showed up. Now he's back, and I remember how I wanted to work on my friendship with Jamie. Prowl thinks. Ratchet does order Prowl to rest for the day. He and Optimus want to talk to Jamie's guardians.

Prowl goes to his room and back to bed, hoping the dizziness doesn't last all day. It's not long before he has a headache. I guess I'm staying here all day. Prowl realizes. Drift texts him about being informed about his new assignment. Prowl hates how Drift is calling this an assistant. The conversation ends after Drift's text agreeing, saying it's an assignment isn't great. By now, the light from his phone is bothering Prowl. He hides under the blankets. Hoping his heavy schedule doesn't turn into a migraine. Relieved he's not feeling dizzy.

Prowl ends up falling asleep. Waking up at noon and feeling like he wasted the morning away. Even if he knows he has a task now, he needs to learn not to cause things like spending time with friends to become a task. Whether ordered to or not. Then he realizes when was the last time he did anything fun with the Autobots? "How hasn't Optimus lectured me about this yet?" Prowl sighs, "even if it's just because we're on Earth that the war isn't non-stop, I'm amazed it took til now for Optimus to say something. This is my fault, even if the issue is working too much."

"You can't blame yourself," Drift tells him, "you need to do better with your work/ life balance, but with Jamie's cross-dimensional traveling and mental health, this will be a challenge." Prowl knows Jamie's history but has yet to learn how things have been the past year. He is concerned about how worried Drift is but knows Drift would tell Optimus if this is a bad idea.

With how bad Prowl's work/ life balance is, Drift is determining what the second in command is interested in doing for fun. Prowl is embarrassed he has no answers, at least for suggestions for group activities. "Take her to McDonald's for lunch," Sunstreaker suggests, "it's lunchtime, and he won't like what Jamie watched and definitely not video games." This is going to be harder than I thought. Prowl sighs. "Seriously, you need to do better with your work/life balance," Sunstreaker comments, "and with Jamie's social anxiety, this won't be easy." "I know, and I think being second in command isn't going to help me." "You know Jamie is complicated, Prowl," Optimus adds, "you need to be patient with her. You'll have something else to do until the case isn't at a standstill and afterward."

( This is what came to mind though it's complete — Prowl accepting he needs to do better with his work/ life balance — but incomplete because how does he achieve this? Will he succeed? I feel like this is another subplot that will appear in several stories but will have an endpoint compared to my other subplots)

[shes-some-other-where]

Twenty-nine and one

Prompt: “Say aah—”

Contains: minor whump, whipping, gag

“Twenty-nine and one,” said the prisoner tightly. “One for him. I’ll take the rest.”

The overseer howled with laughter. “Are you certain you did your math correctly, boy?”

The moment the prisoner muttered, “Yes,” he was seized, hauled roughly into the centre of camp, and hurled into the dirt to watch the first punishment. Despite his whimpering and thrashing, the boy took his single lash bravely, and when he met the prisoner’s gaze, his eyes welled with gratitude.

The prisoner was dragged forward for his turn.

“Say aah,” sneered the guard as a wooden bit was lodged between his teeth.

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[shes-some-other-where]

“Your neverending insolence.”

Prompt: Whip

Contains: minor whump, whipping mention

“Let me get this straight.” The overseer smirked, delight illuminating every line of his face. “You want me to allow you to take his punishment?”

The prisoner nodded, keeping his eyes on the ground. Beside him, the boy they were about to whip strained against the guards’ unyielding grip. Between frantic breaths, he sniffled, the tragedy of his youth on full display.

“No,” said the overseer.

The prisoner snarled, “He’s just a kid! You can’t—”

Grinning, the overseer crowed, “Twenty lashes for his brawl. Ten lashes for your neverending insolence.” He chuckled. “How should I divvy them up? You decide.”

suggested reading order | MWM event masterlist

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All my writing is original. Feel welcome to interact/comment/reblog. Pls don’t steal or repost.