#nfswhump

[justplainwhump]

Prep Protocol

In the hands of his former colleagues at the facility, Tyler's day is getting even worse.

[Way over his head | Masterpost]

Content / warning: BBU setting, facility whump, multiple whumpers, whumper turned whumpee (ig?), interrogation, shock collar, strapped to a table, threat of noncon, noncon kiss, implied future noncon, intimate whumper, creepy whumper. Yeah this is just me throwing you little bits, but hey, it's Tyler.

Tyler only noticed the plastic wrap around his wrist, when Handler Grimm ran his fingers over it, and Tyler cringed from a sudden, stinging pain. 

A piece of cling wrap peeked out under the leather strap that fixated his arm to the table. The skin underneath was red and slightly swollen, sensitive to touch.

Grimm chuckled.

Tyler felt like all air had been sucked from his lungs.

Under the plastic, thin black bars contrasted against the red.

"Mh. Yeah," Grimm said cheerfully. "002243. That's going to be you, Parker. 002244, your girlfriend. We've got both your admission files ready. Signatures and all. Just a little bit of pre-work we need to do with you." He patted Tyler's wrist. "You'll beg us to get on the Drip, 243, but you'll have to work for that mercy."

243. Just five more than 238. Despair tilted over into hysteric amusement. He could've laughed out. He really hadn't been cut out for that job, had he now?

"Smiling, Parker? Wonder what that's about." Grimm clicked his tongue. "But you know what I wonder about more? I bet you do know." He leaned in on his chair, almost casual, if his hand hadn't been playing with the remote to the shock collar. "Where's your girlfriend?"

"Girlfriend?" Tyler all but giggled. As if this job allowed any of them a private life. "Who? 238? You know she actually could've been, in another-"

White pain surged through him, swallowed him for what felt like an eternity.

His muscles were screaming, everywhere, his whole body on fire and crushed under the weight of the world at the same time.

"-fucking idiot," Grimm's voice took shape in the whiteness, came in waves with the pain. "Tara McKenzie. Where is she?" 

"G-gone," Tyler said hoarsely. His voice was cracking strangely in his own ears. Had he screamed? He didn't remember. Had 238's voice felt the same to her, after he'd shocked her?

"Gone where?"

"Don't know. She hates me," Tyler croaked, and couldn't even tell, why he added, "Everyone hates handlers."

Grimm leaned in over him, eyes squinted as he looked deeply into Tyler's eyes. "Is he still high?", he asked someone else in the room, not even bothering to shock Tyler again. "What did you give him?"

"Sedated him to get him here", someone said. "Should have worn off by now."

"Well. Not enough. Can't work with him like this. At least not for an interrogation." Grimm sighed. "Let's switch to preparation protocol instead. Soften him up. Gonna help us one way or another."

Tyler swallowed. He didn't know what preparation protocol was, he realized. He'd only ever come in after the Drip. All he knew was, he'd lost already. Whatever they were going to do, he had no reason to give up Tara. He wouldn't.

Next to him, Grimm patted his shoulder. "There's really no reason for relief right now." He nodded towards the one way mirror. "There's a bunch of people here, who take what you did very personal. You've sabotaged the company, Parker. You may have heard those urban legends about maintenance pets? That's what happens to the idiot sort of handlers who fail at their work. Snitches, though? Whole different cup of tea." Grimm reached out, and Tyler could only flinch before the handlers warm hand rested on his bare stomach, stroking his skin, wandering up to his chest. Tyler's heart raced, all of a sudden. "Snitches with a body like yours, Parker? Intimate knowledge of full Romantic training specifications?" Grimm's voice dropped to a whisper. "You know what you're going to be. And prep protocol? Means to get your body acquainted with being used for one thing only. Had some of your colleagues come in, just for that. It's more fun, when it's personal. And you know, Parker, your secrets about Tara will sit very loose once you've understood that the mercy of the Drip is your only way out."

Grimm's breath was hot on Tyler's skin, suddenly, and then the other man's lips grazed along his ear. "You're going to love this, soon enough. But as long as you hate it, remember - you can end it." He pressed a kiss on Tyler's neck and Tyler's whole body stiffened under the touch. "I'm going to my office, follow up on that mess you've thrown us into, Parker, but I will enjoy knowing you in Handler Thompson's capable hands."

Tyler's breath caught.

"Hey T." Carly stepped in at his side, a hard grin on her face. "Love the look."

Grimm retreated, chuckling without any humor. "Let me know when he's ready to talk. Have fun. You can book this as overtime."

Carly reached out and grabbed a handful of Tyler's hair, jerked his head up to make him meet her gaze. "Will do, Sir," she said to Grimm, and then, pulling Tyler even closer, she whispered into his ear, "Going to make this last a long, long while." 

[astaldis]

@witcher-rarepairs​      @whumptober-archive

Chapters: 1/1  Words: 2705 Fandom: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Maria Barring | Milva/Cahir Mawr Dyffryn aep Ceallach Characters: Cahir Mawr Dyffryn aep Ceallach, Milva, Emiel Regis Rohellec Terzieff-Godefroy, The Hansa | Geralt's Company Members (The Witcher) Additional Tags: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Friends to Lovers, Insomnia, Whump, Oral Sex, Fluff and Smut, Hand Job, Blow Job, Nudity, Full Moon, Snuggling, Spooning Summary: Cahir suffers from insomnia. Milva has the perfect cure for him. (Written for a prompt for the Witcher Rarepair Prompt Fest and for Whumptober)

"What?" Milva asks, looking up from the fire. "Don't think it's your turn yet."

"Can't sleep," Cahir mutters and flops down next to her on the log after she has moved over to make space for him.

"I've noticed. You're easily the worst sleeper I've ever met with that tossing and turning and mumbling of yours," Milva complains. "If you sleep at all."

"Sorry, I didn't want to disturb you. I can move my bedroll further away."

"That's not what I meant. I'm worried. Hell, even Geralt has noticed. Not that he'd mind much if you got yourself killed because you fall asleep on your horse, or during a battle. But you could get us dead, too."

"I know," Cahir says, wearily rubbing his eyes. Sometimes he gets so tired, he does not even know himself. This is dangerous when you are on a mission and your comrades rely on you. "It's not like I don't want to sleep. It's just - I'm having those dreams—"

"Nightmares, they're called nightmares."

Continue reading on Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/50417458

[i-eat-worlds]

Whump Community For Palestine!

I will write you a 500 word whump piece with a premise of your choice with a screenshot of proof of a 14$ USD equivalent donation made to:

-PCRF (Palestinian Children’s Relief Fund)

-UNRWA (United Nations Relief and Works Agency)

-CareForGaza

-Crips for eSims for Gaza

OR the donation of an eSims (starting at 14+ USD). You can find a guide here: https://gazaesims.com/

The more you donate, the longer the piece will be. Donations must be made Feb 19th 2024 to Feb 25th 2024. DM me or send an Ask with your photo! EDIT: Now ongoing.

From the river to the sea, Palestine will be free!

(Personal Boundaries Below Cut)

I WILL write:

-gore

-whumpees, whumpers, and caretakers of all genders

-physical whump & emotional whump

-injuries and illnesses

-comfort and hurt

-romantic relationships

I will not write:

-Nfswhump

-Anything that has heavy themes of transphobia, racism, ableism,

I reserve the write to decline any request that makes me uncomfortable. You can always pick different premise.

[whumpdrivethru]

Natalia

Who wants fries when you can have whump?

Heyyy, it's me, ya girl Natalia. A villainous assassin by night, half-dead college student by day. Working at the drive-thru may not pay for this year's college tuition (that's where the assassinating comes), but I'm here for the work experience! I'm proud to be one of the servers at this drive-thru (*Lucifer Morningstar voice), so tell me, dear customer, what is it you desire?

If for some strange, but wonderful reason you know me, it'll probably be as @surplus-of-sarcasm , a chaotic writing blog and my main.

What I can cook up:

Tropes I often use are manhandling, bone-breaking and general violence. I can write a certain level of gore, but I can't go to the extremes. same with torture. I prefer my hurt with fluffy comfort, but sometimes, I write hurt, no comfort. I love whumpees getting revenge on their og whumper! Did I mention I can also whip up some yandere whump? If you're into hero x villain whump, well, so am I!

If you're into fanfic, my fandoms are: Batfam, MCU and Harry Potter

The same rules apply as my general writing, which are found in my blog.

What isn't on my menu:

Extreme gore, vivisection, amputation, burning, branding, whipping, pet whump, collars and muzzles (gags are fine, though) and eye, mouth and ear whump.

No NFSWhump. Ever.

That's all. Enjoy your meal, made with lots of love and just as much whump!

[women-in-writing]

The Mansion, Chapter Three: Ruin Me

CW: GRAPHIC F/F NONCON AND EMETOPHOBIA

Waynette laid on the floor between her bed and the wall, her knees drawn to her chest.  She hadn’t slept a wink. 

Roman hadn’t fucked her.  A shiver overtook her body and she whined at the pain in her ribs.  In the middle of going to spoon her, his foot hit her back and kicked her out of his bed.  He’d then kicked her, repeatedly, before dragging her to the fireplace.     

She thrashed as he climbed on top of her, grabbing her wrist in one hand and planting a knee in the middle of Waynette’s back.  

    “You disobeyed. He hissed.  With a grin, he pressed her forearm into the firescreen.  

She woke up on the floor in front of her bedroom.

After hours, she propped herself up and stopped short.  A plate piled with a torn off piece of bread and hunks of cheese was on her bed.  

There was no way anyone could have come in, she was sure of it.  She was watching the door all night.  

A hand reaching out of the wall flashed through Waynette’s mind.

She wrapped her unburnt arm around her chest.  Nothing about last night made sense.  If it weren’t for the burn on her arm or the bruises where she had crashed into the wall and bounced off the floor she might not have believed it happened.

The girl flashed through her mind again.  When she had first appeared, half her body sticking out of the wall, dark hair blurred around her, she’d almost let go of the window from shock.

Then she saw her eyes.  

Dark brown and etched with the same kind of terror that Waynette had felt since arriving at the mansion.

Who, or whatever she was- she was just as frightened as herself.  

The deep grumbling of her stomach disrupted her thoughts.  She couldn’t remember the last time she had eaten.  

Keeping her burnt arm close to her chest, she pulled herself onto the bed.  She tore off pieces of bread and cheese.  The cheese was soft and fresh, and while the bread wasn’t warm, it was still soft and light.  

The food settled anxiously in her stomach, but it was filling and distracted her from thinking about all that was happening to her.  She was afraid if she did she’d fall into a pit of despair she’d never be able to crawl out of.

A few bites later and the door burst open.  Georgia stood in the doorway, eyes wild with something that chilled Waynette to her bones.  Her gaze flicked to the plate of food.

    “Where’d you get that?” she demanded.

    “I-” the explanation caught in her throat. “I got it from the kitchen.”

The taller woman hummed softly. “Get her.” the two goons came in, each one grabbing her by her arms.  She yelped at the jolt of pain in her arm.

    “Roman catch you sneaking around?” Georgia laughed as she led them from the room.  

Waynette stayed silent, food churning in her gut as she was dragged upstairs.  They came to a large bedroom and the guards shoved her in after Georgia.  They shut the door and Waynette anxiously turned to look at the other woman.

Roman’s room was plain, almost austere.  Georgia’s by contrast felt lived in.  There were bundles of clothes strewn about and a small desk covered in half-open books.  An unlit fireplace sat against the far wall.  

    “Sit on the bed.” Georgia said, a small first-aid kit in her hands.  

Swallowing nervously, Waynette sat down.  Georgia grabbed her arm and almost carefully bandaged her arm.

    “Why.” she asked when it was done.

Georgia gave her an icy smile. “You’re clean.” she said.  “And my brother and I worked out a deal.”

    “What kind of deal?” she asked with a gulp, wrapping her arms over her breasts.

Something dark smoldered behind her icy eyes. “I get his and he gets mine.”

    “Yours? Wha-”

The next word was cut off as the taller woman tilted her chin up with a long finger and pressed a soft kiss to her lips.

Waynette pushed back with a gasp, falling backwards onto the bed.

    “What?  No, you, you ca-”  Georgia crawled over her, placing a long finger against her lips.  

    “You get confused quite easily don’t you Dear?” she purred, pressing a soft kiss to her ear.  “I wonder.” she said, skirting a hand low on her abdomen, “Is it the concussion that makes you so dim or is that just natural?”

Waynette’s eyes were wide and scared as Georgia laid on top of her, her hand reaching lower. 

    “You- you can’t” Waynette began, her heart pounding in her ears.  She couldn’t believe this was going to happen, she thought she’d be safer around her. 

    “Can’t what Dear?” Georgia asked as she cupped Waynette’s sex.

    “D-don’t rape me.” she stuttered softly, tears finally spilling over.  

Laughing, the taller woman began rubbing her long fingers around her clit.  “Tell me Dearest-” she slowly pressed one finger into her core and sucked softly on a nipple.  Waynette bit back a moan as her nipple popped out of Georgia’s mouth.  “Does this feel like rape?”

She tried to nod, tried to move, but she was pinned and the burning pleasure in between her thighs was growing.  

A second finger joined the first and Waynette bit her tongue to keep from crying out.  Georgia’s hazy smile floated above her.  

“What do you like?” she asked between forced kisses that trailed down her neck.  She sucked at a spot on her neck, and began nibbling at her throat.  The taste of iron burst across her tongue and a low groan escaped her lips.  She felt Georgia’s smile on her neck and her resolve shattered.

It was all too similar to the real thing, to her partners and love and home.   

A third finger was added and she bucked off the bed with a lewd moan.  Any reply the other woman had was lost in the rush of blood through her ears.  

Waynette felt scarlet heat flash across her face, and down the tops of her breasts as shame coursed through her body like acid.  Her entire body felt like it was floating as she tried to fight the pleasure.  Her cries grew to short pants as she felt her orgasm rising.  

Georgia bit down on her neck just as she slid a fourth finger into her.

Her vision burst into stars, and her ears rang as she came, even while plunging into darkness.

Air rushed back into her lungs and she lurched forward, gasping for breath.  

As her senses slowly returned, she saw she was still lying on the bed.  Georgia, still clothed and propped up on an elbow, watched her with a smile.

    “And you said you’re not a whore.”

Waynette pushed herself off the bed onto her still shaking legs.  

    “I’m not!” she shouted as her legs gave out.  She fell onto her knees with a cry and the older woman stood, cradling her chin in her hand.  

    “Dearest you heard yourself didn’t you?”  

Shame flushed through her cheeks as Georgia bent down to kiss her. “You came so hard you blacked out.” 

Waynette shook her head. “No, no, n-no.  You, you raped me.”  

She held up her fingers, still wet, and forced them into her mouth.  “Does it taste like you didn’t want it?”   

Gagging at the intrusion, she jerked away, yelping as fell onto her back.

Behind her, Georgia stood, and walked over.  

She smirked above her and Waynette’s heart sank further.  She put her foot on her chest and leaned forward.  

Hardly able to draw breath, she began to gasp at the increasing pressure on her chest.  Georgia was smiling again.  Goddamn did she hate that smile.

    “Now tell me the truth, Waynette.  Did it feel good?”

Her head was spinning and her chest felt like it was going to cave in.  She shook her head side-to-side.  

    “No!” she finally managed to scream.  “You-”

Her head whipped to the side with the force of the other woman’s slap.  She was grabbed under the armpits and hauled back onto the bed.  Georgia was leaning over her once more, her hand just above Waynette’s waist.

    “You almost crushed my fingers.” she hummed delightedly.  “I’ve never felt a cunt get that tight, and you say it didn’t feel good at all?” She reached her hand up to pinch her jaw and kissed her.  

Not bothering to hide her whimper, Waynette tried to throw her off. “Please.” she whispered.  “St-” Georgia’s tongue was down her throat, choking off her protest.

    “Looks like you need some more convincing.”

 ###

Waynette bolted awake, her heart racing.  In front of her, the gull spiraled.

She was back in her room.    

She blinked.  There wasn’t a window in her room this morning.  But it was the same picture.  She looked at the window once more; she was certain that it wasn’t there this morning when Georgia-

Memories of what had happened came crashing back and she stumbled to the bathroom.  The food from that morning left her stomach in a retch of bile.  Kneeling in front of the toilet, she began to sob.  She cheated- her stomach lurched again and she barely had time to pull her hair back before she vomited again, acid burning her throat and nose.  

She flushed, only to lean over again.  She gagged for several minutes, spitting into the bowl as she tried to get her ragged breath under control.  

Getting onto her shaky legs, Waynette leaned her elbows on the counter, first washing her hands before sticking her mouth under the faucet.  

She blinked and found herself lying on the bed.  Her head was pounding but she stayed silent, her throat hoarse from sobbing.  

She wanted a shower.

She wanted to tear off her skin until there was nothing left of her but bone.

Hugging a pillow to her chest, Waynette sniffed loudly.  She hated the Reed’s, hated that they were just going to keep taking and taking from her until- until when? Shaking, she tucked the thought away, squeezing the pillow tighter.  

Moonlight shone through the window that definitely wasn’t there this morning.  But that was impossible.

So were appearing doors and a kid who-

The air shifted behind her.  

Spinning around, she stilled completely, her face going white as bone.  

On the other side of the bed stood the girl.

taglist:

@lucakairomi

[ifonlyweknewwhatiwasdoing]

Force (14 Whumptober 2021)

Prompt: crash injuries/beaten/force

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: mildly dubious content (i.e. sex pollen made them do it)

Summary: Anakin has tried figuring out the code to the door, he tried hacking into the door, hell he tried hotwiring the door. Now he's going to break the karking thing down.

-

-

-

Anakin slammed his hands against the durasteel door as he let out a yell. Obi-Wan sat on the other side struggling against the suppression cuffs that were binding him to the chair. Anakin could see the sweat dripping down his neck, his master’s face red and splotchy and his gaze beginning to glaze over.

Anakin had already tried to hack the door open by ripping into the keypad and rewiring it but it hadn’t worked and as his master let out a pained noise Anakin looked through the tranparisteel pane and gritted his teeth.

He needed to think of something and he needed to fast. He could see Obi-Wan was starting to writhe in agony, chest rising and falling as he heaved in breaths. Raw anger pulsed through his veins as he slammed his mech hand against the glass.

They should have never traded Vindi. He didn’t know what the Senate had been thinking doing the prisoner exchange and now he and Obi-Wan were paying the price. For kriff’s sake, the man had re-created the Blue Shadow Virus and they’d let him loose.

The virus that he’d let loose this time was a hundred times worse. It was something that you only read about in stupid trashy omega romance novels. Anakin wasn’t even sure how he’d done it. And now that he was dead, there was no way to know what the cure for it was. Well besides the obvious.

For force’s sake, sex pollen?

Anakin growled as he stood back. He needed to get through the door. Even though it was supposedly air-tight he swore that he could smell the honeyed smell of Obi-Wan’s heat wafting through the vents, tinged with the sour note of distress as he struggled against his restraints.

The air was filtered, he knew but he swore he could smell him from the other side of the door and the alpha is Anakin was howling, telling him he needed to get through that door and help his omega. It didn’t matter that Obi-Wan wasn’t technically his, he needed Anakin’s help.

Anakin slammed back into the door, using the force to assist him and growling as the door dented where his shoulder came into contact with it. If he couldn’t hack his way through the door he would have to break the karking thing down because Obi-Wan needed him and he needed him right now.

Anakin slammed into the door again, glaring angrily at the table behind Obi-Wan that held both their lightsabers. The door jerked forward but remained stubbornly shut and Anakin backed up one more time. He’d get the damn door open if it killed him.

He slammed in one more time, accidentally cracking the transparisteel with his elbow. That was it. The door might be able to hold up but the transparisteel couldn’t and if he could just it open he could summon his lightsaber to his side and cut through the rest.

He slammed his elbow into the transparisteel, wincing as it sent a tingling up his arm before bashing his elbow into it once more, sighing in relief as it cracked, pieces falling onto the floor. He summoned his lightsaber and lit it, jamming it through the door as he started to cut through it.

Finally, he kicked the durasteel and it fell. Anakin rushed into the room, kneeling in front of Obi-Wan as he began to fiddle with the cuffs. His instincts had completely taken over, his head swimming with the pheromones that Obi-Wan was giving off as blood pounded in his ears.

“Anakin, Anakin you’re bleeding,” Obi-Wan told him, heaving in breaths desperately, “Please you’re bleeding.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Anakin all but growled back, “We need to get you out of here now.”

“I don’t feel good,” Obi-Wan admitted in a pained voice, “I think- I don’t know what I think but everything hurts and it’s getting hard to breathe.”

Anakin thought about how Ahsoka and Rex were running around looking for an antidote. They wouldn’t have enough time, Anakin was sure. Obi-Wan was already breathing heavily, sweat pouring down his face and neck and skin hot to the touch.

“Master I don’t think they’re going to find it in time,” Anakin admitted, finally managing to remove the cuffs. Obi-Wan all but fell into his arms, whining as Anakin brought his arms up to pull him closer, tucking the older man under his chin.

“I- I don’t think so either,” he admitted, “I’m sorry Anakin.”

“Don’t- don’t be sorry,” Anakin tried to breathe through his mouth but that seemed to make it worse, the scent burning his lungs and scorching him from the inside out, “We- we need to get you somewhere safe and- we’ll get you back to the ship. I won’t let you die, master. I’ll help you.”

“You can’t Anakin,” Obi-Wan panted against his neck, “I can’t ask you to-.”

Anakin wrapped an arm around Obi-Wan’s waist and slid the other one under his knees as he lifted him up, “You’re not asking me, I’m offering. This won’t be how you die. I promise.”

Obi-Wan didn’t seem like he was able to say much, gaze completely glazed over as he rested his head against Anakin’s clavicle. He was still panting heavily, whining as he took in Anakin’s scent more fully.

“An- alpha,” Obi-Wan whined against his skin and Anakin hurried his pace. He needed to get Obi-Wan back to the ship and fast. They didn’t have time for this. Ahsoka and Rex wouldn’t be here in time and Obi-Wan needed help now.

He managed to get them both back to the ship. The clones all stayed back, sensing that something was wrong and giving them a wide berth as Anakin stumbled to his quarters on the ship.

He sighed in relief as the door opened and he dropped Obi-Wan onto the bed. The man mewled and Anakin was pulling off his clothing, baring pale skin dotted with freckles. He couldn’t help himself as he ducked down, using his tongue to connect the dots across the older man’s overheated skin. Obi-Wan let out a low moan, head falling to the side to give Anakin access to his neck. Anakin pressed open-mouthed kisses against the newly bared skin, letting his teeth graze against the gland that sat low on his neck against the shoulder.

Obi-Wan gasped, arching into Anakin as he started to pull off his own clothes, covering Obi-Wan’s body with his, and then he began to purr as he slid his hands all over the older man, covering the old scents that weren’t his.

“Ana-ah!” Obi-Wan cried out as Anakin pushed two fingers into his soaked hole, sucking marks down the man’s neck as he began to work him open. Obi-Wan’s hands came up to wrap around his neck, clinging to Anakin as he pushed a third finger into him.

“That’s it, you’re doing so well,” Anakin praised him, pressing a kiss to his temple and using a shaky hand to brush Obi-Wan’s hair out of his face.

“I need it,” Obi-Wan whined, letting his legs fall open wider to give Anakin better access, “I need it- I can’t- I can’t-.”

“Shh it’s okay,” Anakin soothed as he pressed in a fourth finger, “It’s okay. I’ve got you.”

He pressed their lips together again, swallowing the noises Obi-Wan made as he started to work him open, making sure that he was open enough for Anakin. He pulled back for a breath only to make a startled sound as Obi-Wan followed, slamming their lips back together as he twisted fingers into Anakin’s hair and wrapped a leg around his waist.

When Anakin finally thought he was ready he pulled his fingers out, Obi-Wan whining into his mouth. Anakin kissed his temple before lining himself up, drawing a desperate noise out of his partner.

“Ready?” he asked, all of a sudden nervous. This was Obi-Wan they were talking about. He would never want to hurt his master and he knew that this normally wasn’t something the man would do. For all he knew, Anakin could be his first and he’d be damned if he wasn’t the best.

Obi-Wan’s nodded, mouth opening as Anakin pushed forward. The tight, wet heat had him letting out a loud moan as he pressed into the older man and Obi-Wan whined, panting as Anakin finally bottomed out.

“Oh- oh kark,” he bit out, grinding his teeth as he desperately tried to keep his hips still. The tight heat was incredible and the dizzying smell of heat riddled omega was still clouding his senses.

“Mo-more,” Obi-Wan pleaded, and then he was squirming underneath Anakin, trying to fuck himself on Anakin’s cock. Anakin moaned, pulling back and thrusting back in hard, drawing a cry out of Obi-Wan as his back arched and he clung to Anakin’s shoulders, nails digging into the skin as Anakin began to fuck him.

It felt so good wrapped around Obi-Wan as he fucked into him, mouth sucking dark marks into the man’s neck and chest as he moaned underneath of him. Anakin could feel his knot starting to catch on Obi-Wan’s rim and then Obi-Wan’s body went rigid as he came between them, thighs shaking with the intensity of his orgasm.

Anakin thrust in a few more times, letting out a moan as his knot inflated so that he couldn’t move anymore and he began to cum inside the man, grinding his hips against his ass as he came.

Anakin dropped his head onto Obi-Wan’s shoulder as he caught his breath, mind fuzzy as the honeyed scent of sated omega filled his nose, the underlying warm spiced scent that was completely Obi-Wan loosening up tension he hadn’t even known he was carrying.

Obi-Wan turned his head so that his forehead was pressed against Anakin, his own breath starting to even out as his body finally cooled.

“Thank you Anakin,” he said quietly as his mind finally started to clear up.

Anakin pressed another kiss to the man’s temple, “Anytime. Literally. Just say when and where.”

He smiled as Obi-Wan snorted, feeling the man’s smile rather than seeing it.

[kim-poce]

18 and 20 from the latest ask game?

20. How are you doing today, buddy?

Tired but fine, thank you for asking <3

18. What whump content are you currently craving?

I let this one last so I can put undercut

SFW: I'm craving some more complex whump, with the lines between caretaker/whumper and whumpee blurred

No the NSFW, CW: nfswhump

Some nsfwhump with female whumper and male whumpee, I literally had to start a story about this because It's so so hard to find.

[women-in-writing]

remembered to add a read more this time oops

The Mansion, Chapter Three: Ruin Me

CW: GRAPHIC F/F NONCON AND EMETOPHOBIA

Waynette laid on the floor between her bed and the wall, her knees drawn to her chest.  She hadn’t slept a wink. 

Roman hadn’t fucked her.  A shiver overtook her body and she whined at the pain in her ribs.  In the middle of going to spoon her, his foot hit her back and kicked her out of his bed.  He’d then kicked her, repeatedly, before dragging her to the fireplace.     

She thrashed as he climbed on top of her, grabbing her wrist in one hand and planting a knee in the middle of Waynette’s back.  

    “You disobeyed. He hissed.  With a grin, he pressed her forearm into the firescreen.  

She woke up on the floor in front of her bedroom.

After hours, she propped herself up and stopped short.  A plate piled with a torn off piece of bread and hunks of cheese was on her bed.  

There was no way anyone could have come in, she was sure of it.  She was watching the door all night.  

A hand reaching out of the wall flashed through Waynette’s mind.

She wrapped her unburnt arm around her chest.  Nothing about last night made sense.  If it weren’t for the burn on her arm or the bruises where she had crashed into the wall and bounced off the floor she might not have believed it happened.

The girl flashed through her mind again.  When she had first appeared, half her body sticking out of the wall, dark hair blurred around her, she’d almost let go of the window from shock.

Then she saw her eyes.  

Dark brown and etched with the same kind of terror that Waynette had felt since arriving at the mansion.

Who, or whatever she was- she was just as frightened as herself.  

The deep grumbling of her stomach disrupted her thoughts.  She couldn’t remember the last time she had eaten.  

Keeping her burnt arm close to her chest, she pulled herself onto the bed.  She tore off pieces of bread and cheese.  The cheese was soft and fresh, and while the bread wasn’t warm, it was still soft and light.  

The food settled anxiously in her stomach, but it was filling and distracted her from thinking about all that was happening to her.  She was afraid if she did she’d fall into a pit of despair she’d never be able to crawl out of.

A few bites later and the door burst open.  Georgia stood in the doorway, eyes wild with something that chilled Waynette to her bones.  Her gaze flicked to the plate of food.

    “Where’d you get that?” she demanded.

    “I-” the explanation caught in her throat. “I got it from the kitchen.”

The taller woman hummed softly. “Get her.” the two goons came in, each one grabbing her by her arms.  She yelped at the jolt of pain in her arm.

    “Roman catch you sneaking around?” Georgia laughed as she led them from the room.  

Waynette stayed silent, food churning in her gut as she was dragged upstairs.  They came to a large bedroom and the guards shoved her in after Georgia.  They shut the door and Waynette anxiously turned to look at the other woman.

Roman’s room was plain, almost austere.  Georgia’s by contrast felt lived in.  There were bundles of clothes strewn about and a small desk covered in half-open books.  An unlit fireplace sat against the far wall.  

    “Sit on the bed.” Georgia said, a small first-aid kit in her hands.  

Swallowing nervously, Waynette sat down.  Georgia grabbed her arm and almost carefully bandaged her arm.

    “Why.” she asked when it was done.

Georgia gave her an icy smile. “You’re clean.” she said.  “And my brother and I worked out a deal.”

    “What kind of deal?” she asked with a gulp, wrapping her arms over her breasts.

Something dark smoldered behind her icy eyes. “I get his and he gets mine.”

    “Yours? Wha-”

The next word was cut off as the taller woman tilted her chin up with a long finger and pressed a soft kiss to her lips.

Waynette pushed back with a gasp, falling backwards onto the bed.

    “What?  No, you, you ca-”  Georgia crawled over her, placing a long finger against her lips.  

    “You get confused quite easily don’t you Dear?” she purred, pressing a soft kiss to her ear.  “I wonder.” she said, skirting a hand low on her abdomen, “Is it the concussion that makes you so dim or is that just natural?”

Waynette’s eyes were wide and scared as Georgia laid on top of her, her hand reaching lower. 

    “You- you can’t” Waynette began, her heart pounding in her ears.  She couldn’t believe this was going to happen, she thought she’d be safer around her. 

    “Can’t what Dear?” Georgia asked as she cupped Waynette’s sex.

    “D-don’t rape me.” she stuttered softly, tears finally spilling over.  

Laughing, the taller woman began rubbing her long fingers around her clit.  “Tell me Dearest-” she slowly pressed one finger into her core and sucked softly on a nipple.  Waynette bit back a moan as her nipple popped out of Georgia’s mouth.  “Does this feel like rape?”

She tried to nod, tried to move, but she was pinned and the burning pleasure in between her thighs was growing.  

A second finger joined the first and Waynette bit her tongue to keep from crying out.  Georgia’s hazy smile floated above her.  

“What do you like?” she asked between forced kisses that trailed down her neck.  She sucked at a spot on her neck, and began nibbling at her throat.  The taste of iron burst across her tongue and a low groan escaped her lips.  She felt Georgia’s smile on her neck and her resolve shattered.

It was all too similar to the real thing, to her partners and love and home.   

A third finger was added and she bucked off the bed with a lewd moan.  Any reply the other woman had was lost in the rush of blood through her ears.  

Waynette felt scarlet heat flash across her face, and down the tops of her breasts as shame coursed through her body like acid.  Her entire body felt like it was floating as she tried to fight the pleasure.  Her cries grew to short pants as she felt her orgasm rising.  

Georgia bit down on her neck just as she slid a fourth finger into her.

Her vision burst into stars, and her ears rang as she came, even while plunging into darkness.

Air rushed back into her lungs and she lurched forward, gasping for breath.  

As her senses slowly returned, she saw she was still lying on the bed.  Georgia, still clothed and propped up on an elbow, watched her with a smile.

    “And you said you’re not a whore.”

Waynette pushed herself off the bed onto her still shaking legs.  

    “I’m not!” she shouted as her legs gave out.  She fell onto her knees with a cry and the older woman stood, cradling her chin in her hand.  

    “Dearest you heard yourself didn’t you?”  

Shame flushed through her cheeks as Georgia bent down to kiss her. “You came so hard you blacked out.” 

Waynette shook her head. “No, no, n-no.  You, you raped me.”  

She held up her fingers, still wet, and forced them into her mouth.  “Does it taste like you didn’t want it?”   

Gagging at the intrusion, she jerked away, yelping as fell onto her back.

Behind her, Georgia stood, and walked over.  

She smirked above her and Waynette’s heart sank further.  She put her foot on her chest and leaned forward.  

Hardly able to draw breath, she began to gasp at the increasing pressure on her chest.  Georgia was smiling again.  Goddamn did she hate that smile.

    “Now tell me the truth, Waynette.  Did it feel good?”

Her head was spinning and her chest felt like it was going to cave in.  She shook her head side-to-side.  

    “No!” she finally managed to scream.  “You-”

Her head whipped to the side with the force of the other woman’s slap.  She was grabbed under the armpits and hauled back onto the bed.  Georgia was leaning over her once more, her hand just above Waynette’s waist.

    “You almost crushed my fingers.” she hummed delightedly.  “I’ve never felt a cunt get that tight, and you say it didn’t feel good at all?” She reached her hand up to pinch her jaw and kissed her.  

Not bothering to hide her whimper, Waynette tried to throw her off. “Please.” she whispered.  “St-” Georgia’s tongue was down her throat, choking off her protest.

    “Looks like you need some more convincing.”

 ###

Waynette bolted awake, her heart racing.  In front of her, the gull spiraled.

She was back in her room.    

She blinked.  There wasn’t a window in her room this morning.  But it was the same picture.  She looked at the window once more; she was certain that it wasn’t there this morning when Georgia-

Memories of what had happened came crashing back and she stumbled to the bathroom.  The food from that morning left her stomach in a retch of bile.  Kneeling in front of the toilet, she began to sob.  She cheated- her stomach lurched again and she barely had time to pull her hair back before she vomited again, acid burning her throat and nose.  

She flushed, only to lean over again.  She gagged for several minutes, spitting into the bowl as she tried to get her ragged breath under control.  

Getting onto her shaky legs, Waynette leaned her elbows on the counter, first washing her hands before sticking her mouth under the faucet.  

She blinked and found herself lying on the bed.  Her head was pounding but she stayed silent, her throat hoarse from sobbing.  

She wanted a shower.

She wanted to tear off her skin until there was nothing left of her but bone.

Hugging a pillow to her chest, Waynette sniffed loudly.  She hated the Reed’s, hated that they were just going to keep taking and taking from her until- until when? Shaking, she tucked the thought away, squeezing the pillow tighter.  

Moonlight shone through the window that definitely wasn’t there this morning.  But that was impossible.

So were appearing doors and a kid who-

The air shifted behind her.  

Spinning around, she stilled completely, her face going white as bone.  

On the other side of the bed stood the girl.

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