#style whump

[bentnotbroken1fanfiction]

Sneak peek of Chapter Two of my Kidnapped Style fic.

It’s getting a little harder to concentrate on what his kidnapper is saying now. It's like his brain is slowing down, and his lungs aren't fully expanding anymore. He feels like he's not quite human anymore….He's just...floating away….

Maybe it's because of the pain or the blood loss, but either way, Style knows that what is happening isn't a good sign. He's either going into shock or….

He's dying….

And fuck.

All he can think about…all he wants at this moment…

Is Fadel.

He just wants Fadel. 

He wants to see him so badly.

One last time. 

He wants to hug him tightly and breathe in the scent of his aftershave. He wants to kiss the tiny smile from his mouth that he makes when Style does something he finds endearing. 

He wants Fadel to hold him. Run his fingers through his hair and tell him everything is going to be okay. He wants to hear him say his name in that exasperated way he does when he's being a brat. 

He wants to tell Fadel he's sorry. 

He's so fucking sorry. For playing him and for...for leaving him alone now.

Tears come unbidden from his swollen eyes, stinging the bruised flesh as they mix with his dried blood. 

God. He wants to tell Fadel he loves him. 

Because he does. 

He loves him so fucking much.

He wishes...

He wishes he could just....see....

But everything is getting darker….

“I'm sorry, Fadel,” he murmurs to the room, wanting to say the words outloud at least once, before his body goes slack in his restraints, “I love you.” 

That cruel hand yanks his head back, but he can't bring himself to react. “Hey, don't you even think about-” 

He doesn't get to finish his sentence because he's interrupted by the sound of the door breaking, shattering open like a bomb blasted through it.

Style tries to open his eyes enough to see what is happening, but all he can make out before he's consumed by darkness is a dark blur sprinting toward him and a familiar voice yelling his name. 

[saffitaffi]

Remember to headpat your whumpees! (If they’ve been good, of course)

Bases below hehehe

No need for credit but I would like to be tagged if you use these for pride reasons 😤😤 I wanna see ur ocs

[hannibard]

Say what you will about the witcher season 2 but all the "Yennefer took Jaskier in the divorce", "Geralt and Yennefer are a divorced couple rasing a kid and dating the same man", "geraskefer love triangle with an oblivious Jaskier in the middle" memes and fics were top tier

[skittles-the-whumpee]

A shirt.

Such an easy thing to take for granted until it's the only thing you are allowed to have.

No undies. No pants. No socks. Definitely no shoes. Just a single, old, oversized shirt.

Something he gave me so I wasn't always naked.

He didn't buy it for me, he doesn't buy anything for us other than collars, kennel cages, and things that cause pain...no, it's just an old shirt he didn't want anymore. He doesn't need to buy us anything.

It's all I have.

He burnt all the clothes that I wore when he had me picked up. It's all ashes now. Even my favorite hoodie, gone.

Just a shirt.

He gave it to me after the third week, after he had spent that time properly and painfully introducing me to my role here. I am his pet. I am his muse. I am his plaything.

I am his property.

Captured and flown halfway across the world.

It's a simple shirt, size XXXL Tall, dark gray, very faint remnants of old blood stains (not all of it my own), hem starting to tatter, very small moth holes here and there, band logo all but worn off, hides just enough of me to count as "covering".

It's the kind of shirt one throws out before buying a new one. But he gave it to me instead.

And I cherish it, a gift from my Master.

Such a simple thing.

And yet, it brings me joy.

[timdrakewhump]

Consider Tim being an extreme hypocrite about drug use to the point of absurdity. He's panicking about one of his friends smoking weed while he is actively concealing a bag of coke

-Photo Anon

Photo anon I adore you come here so we can make out sloppy style anyways we can link this to Tim’s low self worth PLEASE like yeah his precious perfect friends can’t do anything if he sees them even rolling one up he freaks but Tim? Scum of the earth useless worthless Tim?? Who gives a shit if he’s an addict? Who cares if he overdoses and kills himself? The worst thing that will happen is Bruce will need to find someone to do all the shit he does. Especially if it’s when he’s already rocky with the batfam, or when he’s seeing Bruce and Damian bond, Damian being given Bruce’s love just by being there while Tim had to claw and scratch just to keep the man alive and sane. Tim being convinced that it would just be a mild inconvenience if he dies ergo he can do what he wants, especially if he thinks it improves his vigilante work. Tim who survives off cat naps but not for the reasons they think. The coke makes him more aware, faster, more awake. But his friends?? Light of his life perfect angels? Absolutely not??? Don’t they know the dangers??? They don’t need that!! They’re already amazing!! Tim who thinks the rules apply to everyone except him not because he’s better than everyone but because he’s scum of the earth and who cares? It makes him better, but his friends don’t need that. They’re perfect. They’re worth something, unlike him

Tim idolising his friends and and and *screaming noises*

[allthingswhumpyandangsty]

reblog if you were y/n and your parents used to sell you to mobster One Direction back in 2012-2013 ish

[ourdadai]

୨୧ kang hyewon ( atriz ) lockscreens.

[bentnotbroken1fanfiction]

If my brain could just work on one FadelStyle thing until it's finished instead of working on three fics at once...

[whumpster-dumpster]

love a good bridal carry when whumpee is unconscious. the head hanging back, the arms dangling limply at the sides… caretaker rushing them to help… whumpee’s head bobbing up and down as caretaker runs… just. chef’s kiss 🤌

Maybe not the most stable way of carrying them but certainly one of the most aesthetically pleasing 👏👏

[acoustic-crayons]

"Why, someone is getting tired of my cooking,"

If y'all like good John Dory angst with some HickDory side severing, you should read AhkiKris's fic Guilty As Sin?

This particular drawling is based on the chapter 18 cooking scene!

[below the cut for a bonus yandere joke pic]

"They're probably wondering where you are. If Branch and I weren't on okay terms, he'd probably think I kidnapped you."

This is what happens when you make jokes about kidnaping and yanderes in the comments with the author lol

BTW They don't have tails or anything in fic so the actual ficart reflects that. This silly extra piece on the other hand is free game lol

[sams-whumping-ground]

Had to repurpose my characters. They're going to be more sci-fi focused.

So have Glitch chilling out with Elise, his sister, on his ship.

The changes made:

Axton "Glitch" Esper is now a merc and a known hacker. He doesn't show his face to his clients, instead only showing up as a robot with a screen. He accepts jobs to help pay for Elise's treatment. He only uses what he needs from it to survive, upgrade his gear, and the robots, androids, and droids on his crew. He still has his augments (arms, legs, several organs, etc.)

Elise Esper is no longer dead from an accident, but instead she's now sick from a disease with no known cure. She's in stasis until a cure can be found. This was her wish.

Shameless tagging of my friendos >:3c

@confirmedcannibal @bestlittlesnek @that-windy-place-tho

[unforgivenn]

Masterlist

Noah shuddered, the tears welling in his eyes mixing with the blood and sweat on his face. He tried to pull away, but the strings only tightened, biting deeper into his flesh. Andrey laughed softly, a sound that sent shivers down Noah's spine.

"Struggle all you want, slave.," Andrey murmured, his lips brushing against Noah's ear. "You'll only hurt yourself more. Accept your fate, and perhaps, just perhaps, I'll show you a mercy."

But Noah knew there would be no mercy. Not from Andrey. The prince's touch was as cold and unyielding as the chains that bound him. Nevertheless, he was too ensnared in his thoughts to make out Andrey's words. He felt as if he was teetering on the brink of insanity. There was just pain, pain, and more pain.

Every moment in this hellish place was a relentless assault on his mind and body. The constant pain, the fear, the humiliation—it was all too much. Noah's thoughts raced, a chaotic whirl of memories and nightmares. He remembered his life before this, the freedom he had taken for granted, now a distant, cruel dream. He remembered his mother making rhubarb pie for him. His sister running around the house lighting it up with her talkative nature.

Why is this happening to me? What did I do to deserve this? The questions had been echoing in his mind ever since he came here but now he heard them ring in his ears louder than before. He felt his grip on reality slipping, the edges of his sanity fraying with each passing second.

Noah's heart pounded in his chest, each beat a drum of panic. He tried to focus on something, anything to ground himself, but all he could see were the s, the blood, the darkness.

I'm finally losing it. I'm losing my mind. The thought was like a dagger to his heart. A part of him wanted to laugh at himself, at this whole shitty situation while the other wanted to just sob at his helplessness. The fear of what he was becoming was almost worse than the pain itself. He was no longer just a captive; he was a broken man, teetering on the edge of madness.

Andrey's voice broke through the fog of his thoughts, a chilling voice in his head that repeated again and again. "You're mine, Noah. Mind, body, and soul. There's no escape for you. No hope. No mercy." He wanted to help him to shut up but it felt as if he couldn't open his mouth anymore.

Wait.. What was he doing here again..?

Noah's vision blurred with tears, his body trembling. He wanted to scream, to beg for release, but he knew it would only bring more torment. He was trapped, not just physically, but mentally, emotionally. The shackles that held him were more than just physical restraints; they were the bonds of his shattered will, the chains of his despair.

I can't do this. I can't keep going. The thought was a desperate plea, a cry into the void. But there was no one to hear it, no one to save him.

The room seemed to close in around him, the walls pressing in, the air growing thin. He was suffocating, drowning in his own fear and pain.

Help me. Someone, please, help me. Please help me please help me- The plea repeated in his mind like a chant thought it went unanswered, lost in the abyss of his despair.

He was just a puppet, and Andrey was the puppeteer. And in this twisted game, there were no strings that could be cut to set him free.

(THIS WAS NOT A PART OF THE MAIN SERIES)

Taglist: @miireux134 @nuriiz134 @ash-reh @noeul-whumpppss @morning-star-whump

@parasitebunny @anutz1234 @whatwasmyprevioususername @whumped-by-glitter @someoneoninternettt(let me know if you want to be added or removed :D)

[brightshaw-shipper]

Chaos Insurgent #1, taking a tied-up and struggling Dr. Bright back to the van: Hey, Carl? Why do I hear boss music?

Chaos Insurgent #2, looking around in confusion: I don't know. Let's just get out of hereHOLY MOTHER OF- *pointing*

Dr. Shaw, sprinting towards the two Insurgents at full speed with a lightsaber he "borrowed" from Pataphysics, Duel Of The Fates playing from his phone in his pocket: GIVE HIM BACK, [EXPLETIVE REDACTED]! I HAVE THE HIGH GROUND!

[irokwashere]

*whistles and drops this off here* First one in the queue line

[whumpy-wyrms]

Lyle and Harley won’t be important to the story until wayyy later but i drew the four Blood Runs Cold fellas :3 i will most definitely make more characters for this story in the future and add onto this but these are the ones so far!!

[bentnotbroken1fanfiction]

https://archiveofourown.org/works/61811545/chapters/158382913#workskin

Chapter 2 of You've Got The Wrong Guy

Fadel can't believe this is happening. 

Khun Mae has Style. 

And if she has him, then he's probably in horrific pain right now.

“What should we do?”

How long has it even been? Six hours? That's a lot of time. Too much time.

“Fadel?”

Fadel knows Bison is talking to him but he sounds far away. 

“Fadel ?!”

He can’t focus on his brother right now, not when his mind races and fills with images upon images of Style beaten and battered, of Style dead, gunshot wound to the head and eyes lifeless. 

“Hey, snap out of it.”

Blood. So much blood. 

Fadel feels like he’s moments away from losing his lunch

A hand makes contact with the side of his face. He jerks and stares at Bison who is staring right back at him, worry evident on his face as he repeats his name again, “Are you back with me?”

He sucks in a breath and nods.