@just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi suggested "possessive whumper"

my instant thought was "marking/branding as property", so here we are!

rt if you like damaged goods

A muzzle that traps every breath, soaks through from the tears and rubs the bridge and underside of the whumpee’s jaw raw. If they can talk, the words sound muffled and strained with the attempt to make themselves understood. A muzzle that is designed to give a semblance of humanity while still reminding the whumpee of their place.

Whumpmas in July | Day 1 | (Re) Intro

hello (again) lovely whump community! I'm Vic (they/them) and I write whump 😄 I've been kicking around in the whump community since 2018, and I love meeting new friends! if you hear someone hollering about wings it's probably me. just think of me as a shoebill stork: shy, solitary by nature (but pls still talk to me!), prone to decapitating prey, just a creechur in search of good whump like we all are

my masterlists can be found here!

favorite tropes:

“Enemies to lovers” this, “friends to lovers” that.

How about “co-captives to desperate allies to estranged individuals to cautious friends to lovers,” huh?

He's sopping wet. He's pathetic. His dick game is terrible. He looks bad. He cries at the slightest provocation. Hes trembling in fear. He's unreliable. His personality is sad, just sad. I didn't say a name but he popped into your head, didn't he? ☺️

@legacyl0st come pick up your used mop of a man he's dripping on the floor again

@clockworknightmares come get Dray. He's making a mess and making everyone uncomfortable

*shoves him back in the dumpster*

Obsessed with the concept of a character who has never been treated kindly or gently in their life (or in a very long time) and suddenly being treated gently and with care and being stunned and then overwhelmed by it.

my corrupted grave cleric Corvis Orrelios. definitel your drinks for poisons before partaking

Two characters that are beaten to absolute shit, but still manage to drag themselves across the ground so they can collapse next to each other instead of apart. <3

[OC] Kelsus, he/him. former god and general nuisance 

WIP MEME TAG THING

Rules: Post the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them and then post a little snippet of it or tell them something about it! and then tag as many people as you have WIPs.

tagged by @hold-him-down

WIPS (in no order and with no context):

Tagging: @pumpkin-spice-whump @quietly-by-myself @wolfeyedwitch @whump-for-all-and-all-for-whump @thecyrulik @winedark-whump @orchidscript @maracujatangerine @card-games-and-pain

WIP (that I can still find and don’t include school stuffs) Pile: 

I’ll tag @whumpiary @ashintheairlikesnow @yet-another-heathen @redstainedsocks @wildfaewhump

Oh damn. Hmmmm.

Tagging @orchidscript @clockworkgalaxies @pretty-face-breaker @straight-to-the-pain

Am i the only one that titles nothing in my wips? and if it has a title it’s an acronym? (thanks for the tag @ashintheairlikesnow! you are so orderly!)

etc etc etc. I don’t title anything, maybe that’s why i can’t ever find the right doc lol

[dnd oc] Eltaro, my centaur barbarian speedrunning the transition to warlock by collecting every cursed object possible and catching the eye of every evil-aligned entity, completely by accident

[OC] ive fallen back into swtor hell again with this sorry excuse for a jedi (and many other but this ones the classic wyatt disaster character)

70 whumpy questions: for the whumper

🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪

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disclaimer: this is directed towards your ocs, not you.

cw: torture, creepy questions, probing questions, abuse, yadda yadda

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1. What about [Whumpee] made you feel drawn to them?

2. What do you think of [Whumpee]?

3. Do you hate [Whumpee]?

4. What was your childhood like?

5. How did you capture [Whumpee]?

6. What made you like this?

7. Are you a sadist?

8. Why do you do this?

9. What is your favorite weapon to use?

10. What is your relationship with your parents like?

11. Do you think that you’re doing the right thing?

12. Are you lonely?

13. Does this make you feel powerful?

14. Who do you think you’re fooling?

15. What is wrong with you?

16. Has [Whumpee] ever tried to escape?

17. How long have you been doing this?

18. Favorite punishment method?

19. Least favorite punishment method?

20. What do you like about [Whumpee]?

21. Have you ever thought about letting [Whumpee] go?

22. How many people have you done this to?

23. Do you have a favorite [Whumpee]?

24. What are your thoughts on [Caretaker]?

25. Do you feel insignificant?

26. Did you not get enough attention as a child?

27. Do you think that you’re superior to others?

28. Do you ever feel guilty?

29. Do you ever comfort [Whumpee]?

30. Do you think that you deserve forgiveness?

31. Do you think that you deserve to die?

32. Have you dealt with traumatic situations in your past?

33. How do you cope?

34. How do you sleep at night?

35. Do you think your mother would approve of this?

36. Has [Whumpee] ever scared you?

37. How did [Whumpee] escape?

38. Are you stupid?

39. Favorite method of restraint?

40. What’s the worst thing [Whumpee] has ever done?

41. Has [Whumpee] ever hurt you?

42. Have you considered hurting [Caretaker]?

43. Would you ever replace [Whumpee]?

44. What would you do if Whumpee died?

45. Have you broken [Whumpee] yet?

46. How do you condition your captives?

47. Do you see [Whumpee] as human?

48. What made you want to hurt [Whumpee] so much?

49. If you were to be forced to face the consequences of your actions, would you accept them?

50. Do you think your friends and family could ever love you after this?

51. How do you relieve stress?

52. What is your relationship to [Whumpee]?

53. How could you do this to someone?

54. Why?

55. Are you aware that you’re an abomination to this earth?

56. What do you look for when selecting a target? Certain traits?

57. Have you ever considered just putting [Whumpee] out of their misery?

58. Do you enjoy hurting [Whumpee?]

59. What do you enjoy the most about hurting them?

60. Are you afraid of getting caught?

61. What would you do if you got caught?

62. Who is your least favorite captive that you've had?

63. Who was the first person you've ever intentionally harmed?

64. Do you regret it?

65. Do you know where [Whumpee] is now?

66. Would you recapture [Whumpee] if you could?

67. Can you live without [Whumpee]?

68. Have you ever taken things too far?

69. Have you ever considered stopping?

70. Do you think [Whumpee] will ever forgive you?

————————————

taglist:

@shywhumpauthor @painsandconfusion @thoughtsonhurtandcomfort @astralrunic @gottawhump @writergirl135 @tavecincertum @wolfeyedwitch @tastes-like-melonade @wild-selenite-caffine @badluck990 @appleejuice @void-fireworks @kim-poce @dragyouthroughthewhump @rainbows-and-whumperflies @shooting-star123 @whump-is-my-second-name @equestrianwritingsstuff @thelazywitchphotographer @bleeding-letters @gendertit @msiai-is-a-fool @heart4brains @whumpasaurus101 @cain-writing @starliight-whump

Angsty Romantic Cliches I’m a Slut For 

I love me some fluff, but I REALLY LOVE me some ANGST.

“You’re not even going to untie my hands to eat?” Adrian asked. 

They were in the Captain’s quarters - Demarion’s quarters. They were nice, for a ship. Spacious and comfortable.  The room was a veritable trove of strange artifacts collected from far flung corners of the world, books, a treasure hoard. He suspected the most important bits of all were tucked and locked away. 

Demarion sat across from him, pirate hat resting on the table next to a pistol, swords hanging at his hip, sleeves rolled up. Perfectly relaxed with a bottle of rum. He glanced up from the apple he was paring down with a knife, popping a slice between his lips and chewing. He swallowed before speaking. “Why in god’s name would I untie your hands and give you a knife? I’ve already had a taste of what you can do with them.” He cut another slice and then offered it up to Adrian’s lips. “Bite and I’ll starve you.” 

Adrian was tempted to bite just to be contrary, but he was hungry and it had been an age since he’d had a fresh apple. He also needed strength if he was going to fight. His pride still prickled. 

Demarion raised a brow. “Going, going…”

He opened his mouth to accept the damn apple slice, sweet and crisp. He swallowed. 

Demarion smiled. “I’m glad your pride is not so excessive. Some men are like that. They do not value life.” 

“Says the man who slaughtered my crew.” 

“They had their chance to fight. They were not as skilled at it as you. What would you have done with me and mine if you’d caught us?” 

“I’d have brought you in to face her Majesty’s justice.” 

“Ah, imprisonment. Slavery. Possible slaughter by the hangman’s noose.” Demarion ate another slice of apple, idly.

“That’s not- you’re a criminal.” 

 “I’d say death at sea was kinder. They chose that, they are people of the sea. It is kinder. I’m sure their families will get good pensions, no?” 

Adrian found himself staring again, once more entirely thrown. He frowned. 

Demarion offered him another apple slice. 

It was a humiliating way to eat, really. He couldn’t help but think of mutts being slipped food at their master’s table and his ears burned. Still, Demarion was right. He would not pick starvation over his own pride. 

Demarion smirked, eyes gleaming, as if he knew exactly what Adrian was thinking of. 

Adrian was sorely tempted to kick him, but he didn’t actually want to spend this voyage with broken kneecaps, or too hogtied to move. 

He searched for another more lucrative topic instead, hands shifting uncomfortably behind his back. His fingers strained for the knot. If he could just, discreetly, work it free… 

“Keep twitching and I’ll kick you in the balls, handsome not-so-captain anymore,” Demarion said. He propped his boot on Adrian’s lap. 

Adrian went still. 

It had been several hours since his emptied ship had been left to the mercy of the waves, crewless and husked. He supposed at least Demarion hadn’t burnt her. He’d spent most of the time in the brig, blindfolded, trying to track their path all the same as the pirates clattered above deck. He wasn’t sure how he thought about the fact he hadn’t had his ribs kicked in yet. Demarion’s crew had looked like they wanted to. 

“Does it bother your crew that you have prisoners dine with you while they eat on deck?” 

“I give them what they want. They leave me to my indulgences and projects. It is a working relationship. Besides,” Demarion flashed him that grin again, sharper even than his blade. “I think I’d rather keep you where I can see you. Safer for everyone. Don’t you think?”

Adrian found himself frowning again. 

He suspected that this wasn’t the chat he’d been brought along for, and yet the pirate captain seemed in no particular hurry to start that one.

“Even when it’s an extra mouth to feed?” he pressed. 

“Would you like me to starve you?” 

“No.” His frown deepened. “Obviously not. I just-” He didn’t understand. He didn’t understand Demarion and things that he didn’t understand were maddening at best and life-threatening at worst. It was always better to understand and be prepared. 

“Don’t worry,” Demarion ate the last slice of his apple, holding his gaze, before he leaned forward, knife in hand, tracing the flat edge over Adrian’s lip. “You can find some way to pay me back for the food, can’t you?” 

The knife slipped down over his jumping pulse, slicing cleanly through the front of his somewhat-tattered-now uniform. The buttons popped and hit the deck with a clink. 

Adrian’s eyes widened. It wasn’t just his ears that burned this time. He swallowed. “Oh.” Any clever retort vanished from his head. “I - er-”

“-What’s this?” Demarion asked, giving the chain around his neck a little tug with the tip of his knife. 

“What?” Adrian blinked at him. He looked down, foolishly perhaps, to the thin gold chain and locket hanging on his bare chest. “I thought-” He cut off. Sailor or not, he couldn’t damn well say it when Demarion’s eyes were gleaming at him like that again. He glared, furiously. “It was my mother’s.” 

He had a sudden flash of fear that the pirate would take it. More treasure. 

Demarion hummed, considering him. He gave another pointed little tug with his knife. 

Adrian didn’t move. 

The pirate sighed and reached out, quick as an eel, catching the chain and yanking. Adrian lurched forward as much as his restraints would allow him to. 

Demarion’s gaze fixed on the locket. “Where do you keep the key?” 

“On my ship which you abandoned to wreckage,” he muttered, spitefully. 

“Liar.” 

“Why do you care?” 

“I’m asking the questions here, Mr Murphy.” 

“Just Adrian’s fine,” he said, entirely too cheerfully, because that was entirely not the point or the line of questioning that Demarion was currently following. 

“Mm. Adrian.” Demarion was all but purring again, his stare flicking up to hold Adrian’s stare. “Do you reckon you’d be able to use that sword of yours quite so beautifully without any fingers?”

Adrian’s stomach jolted. His head reeled. He was pretty sure that every conversation was, at this stage, going to give him emotional whiplash flipping from one track to another. 

“Are you planning to threaten me every time I don’t give you what you want?” 

“Handsome, brave and clever. You’re building up quite the golden repertoire for yourself.”

Adrian rather liked his fingers. He didn’t think it was surrender to like his fingers on his hand - more that shallow cooperation, biding his time. 

But he didn’t understand. Why would a pirate care about his locket? Maybe Demarion simply liked solving mysteries. 

They watched each other for a moment. 

Adrian resisted the urge to curl his fingers into his palm as much as possible, as if that could somehow act as a valid shield. His mouth was dry. Still. “I don’t know,” he muttered. “I’ve never had the key.” 

He half expected another ‘liar’. 

Demarion’s attention released him, dropping down to the locket again.  He released a breath. He gave his head a little tug, as if that might encourage the pirate’s greedy hands off his only heirloom. Demarion’s grip tightened. “Do you remember your mother?” 

“Did you seriously kidnap me to talk about my mother?” 

“I seriously kidnapped you to talk about a lot of things,” Demarion said, pleasantly enough. “You’ll want to amuse me with this.” 

“I only have so many fingers you can threaten.” 

“You only have so many fingers you can lose too.” 

“She died when I was young.” He wondered if he should lie, considered it out of some petty revenge. Fudging the truth would likely work better. “Or it that your line considering you resorted to a life of violent crime? Let me guess - your father was a scoundrel. The sea was the only happiness you ever knew. Your chance to escape from plague and poverty.” 

“You’re adorable,” Demarion deadpanned. 

He gave as sharp a smile as he could muster back. “All the more reason for you not to cut up my handsome face or fingers.” 

Demarion snorted, but let go of the locket finally. He took a gulp of his drink, settling back in his chair. Still so close, and so impossibly far away when it came to victory. His head tilted as he examined Adrian again for a moment. 

“But first some dinner, I think,” the pirate murmured, even if he hadn’t advised what was second.  Adrian wondered if he should be worried about after dinner. Probably. He was aboard the Leviathan after all; known for swallowing errant sailors whole, never to be seen again. 

“Are you planning to feed me the entire meal by hand?” 

Demarion’s sharp smile put his to shame as he patted Adrian’s cheek and rose to his feet. “Only if you ask nicely.”

The Navy did not teach a man how to handle this scenario.

Life on the Leviathan settled into something strangely like a rhythm over the next week.

Adrian spent most of his days cuffed to the mast where Demarion could ‘keep an eye on him’ and interrogate him between his various captain duties. He wasn’t sure what it said about the pirate’s view on him that he wasn’t even trusted enough to be locked in the brig, but he preferred being on deck with the breeze in his hair and something to actually look at anyway. Even with the incessant scrutiny and questions.  

In the evenings, more often than not, he ended up in Demarion’s quarters for further ‘conversations’. The pirate seemed intent on dissecting every possible facet of his life, past and personality. The first night, when he’d cut Adrian’s shirt off and catalogued the story behind every scar on his torso hadn’t apparently been enough. 

He had yet to lose any limbs though.

For his part, he hoarded what knowledge he could about Demarion in turn to try an excavate some sense out of his situation. He collected Demarion’s mannerisms, the flickering nuances of his expressions, the secrets of his behaviour. His most prominent conclusion was that Demarion was as maddening as ever. But he bided his time. Eventually, surely, every man must slip up. 

Adrian’s slip up, if it could be called that, came in the opportunity of tossing himself over board. 

He’d been standing on the deck with Demarion, hands bound behind his back as was customary, arguing as they were want to do. 

“Careful,” Demarion had murmured. “I could toss you overboard if you don’t watch your mouth.”

So Adrian had in response, of course, taken the desperate and petty liberty of hurling himself into the sea. The chains on his wrists made it difficult to swim and he sank in the fierce hunger of the ocean.

Demarion had twisted the ship around. Dragged him up, gasping and half drowned, on deck. 

That brought them to now.

Adrian had never seen Demarion furious before that.

He’d seen Demarion amused, he’d seen the sharpness of his smile, but both those dangers were a world away from the expression that fixed him now. Yet, he felt triumph. He panted, chest heaving, hair and clothes plastered wet to his skin. 

“Are you crazy?!” Demarion demanded. 

They sprawled on the deck, Demarion’s hands braced on either side of his head, his kiss of life still tingling on Adrian’s lips. 

He fixed his gaze on the pirate’s dark one in turn. “I knew you’d help me,” he said. “I knew you’d save me.”

The proof, the confirmation, still felt good. It changed things. 

It had been a nagging feeling, growing over the last week. Because Demarion hadn’t hurt him. He threatened it with a truly terrifying creativity, but he didn’t actually hurt him and he didn’t allow his crew to do it either.

He absolutely knew Demarion would turn his ship around in impossible twists to save him. He just didn’t even remotely know why.

Demarion stared at him, livid, enraged, for once absolutely speechless for a few moments.

“I’m not through with you yet,” Demarion returned eventually, coldly. “That’s all this is.”

Adrian’s grin widened, reckless with captivity. “I don’t believe you.”

For all the maddening nature of Demarion, he’d picked up some secrets. The pirate captain never removed his shirt when Adrian could see him, for all of his relentless teasing and flirting.The pirate captain’s eyes strayed too often for the locket around Adrian’s throat. Some sick and violent thing tightened in his throat. 

Whatever the answer he was looking for was, he was pretty sure he’d find it under Demarion’s shirt.

“You spared me for a reason,” he continued, mind racing. “You took me for a reason.”

“Your skill with a blade amused me.”

“Perhaps,” Adrian could believe that. “But you don’t leave a man alive for that.”

“You are infuriating,” Demarion hissed. 

“Yeah, but I’m also right.” He could feel every inch of closeness between them - closer than they had ever been, for all of Demarion’s commentary. “Why do you want me alive? The locket?”

The pirate straightened, the water still clinging to him. His stare seared into Adrian, like he should get something, but simply didn’t. As if it should be obvious. 

Adrian propped himself up as much as he could with his hands still bound behind his back. It finally occurred to him that perhaps he should be shuffling away, or trying to ease the danger. As if there was anywhere to go except overboard again. 

“Next time you try to drown yourself,” Demarion’s voice was low and menacing, “I will tie you down to my bed for all eternity. Do you understand?”

“Promises promises,” he drawled instead, smirking and raising his eyebrows, mainly to see Demarion scowl. “Or is it that maybe you’re getting attached? That’s sweet. I suppose you’re pretty handsome yourself.”

The man’s eyes flashed and turned icy.

“Tie him to the mast and lash him until he understands.”

Adrian’s stomach clenched cold. He jutted his chin up, unable to regret his defiance all the same, and stubborn enough to beg. Demarion had saved his life. That was what he called ‘leverage’ and ‘something to negotiate with’ and they both goddamn knew it or Demarion wouldn’t be so pissed off. 

Still, it surprised him. It was stupid that the command surprised him, coming from a notorious pirate captain who had threatened his fingers and well-being on more than one occasion. Stupid, stupid, stupid. 

The crew manhandled him to the becoming familiar mast. He struggled, of course he did. What did he have to lose by doing so? He managed to kick and give someone a bloody nose, before his ankles were bound down.

He heard the thud of boots behind him, too heavy to be the pirate captain’s stealthy step. A box cluttered. 

“Weren’t you the one who wanted to see me fight so badly!?” Adrian tried next.”It’s not good to give prisoner conflicting messages, you know.” 

Demarion strolled around to the other side, where Adrian could see his face. He caught Adrian’s jaw between his fingers, holding him steady. “Oh, you’re free to fight all you like. But don’t expect to fight without retaliation. I admit, I knew you would try something if I loosened my hold on you, and I was curious what that might be. But tossing yourself into the ocean? Mm. That surprised me, Adrian. Not in the good way. I don’t like that.”

Demarion’s gaze flicked past him, momentarily, before returning.

The first blow cracked on Adrian’s back. 

His mind went blank. 

Adrian inhaled a startled breath, unable to stop the cry from catching in his throat. He vowed to catch the next one. He wouldn’t give the bloody pirate the satisfaction. Saving him one second, hurting him the next - explaining nothing. 

Maddening.

“Tell me why you saved me.”

The second lash landed. It hurt more than the first one, sharp and hot. Demarion all over, he thought dizzily. If Demarion could be the human version of a weapon, it would be easy to mistake him for a knife. But he wasn’t. He was this. 

“You’re on my ship, Adrian. You don’t give me orders. You behave and this doesn’t happen to you. Do you understand why I’m doing this?”

The third lash stole his breath.  “I understand very little about you.” It was entirely too honest. “I imagine it’s because you’re a sadistic prick.” 

Demarion smiled that smile of his. “If you knew I would save you, you didn’t have to test it. Did you? That was stupid. What if I hadn’t got to you in time, hm?”

“Ironic that I have more faith in you than you do,” he gasped. 

The fourth and the fifth crack of the whip followed in quick succession, searing through his brain, stealing any further response he could have made. His knees threatened to buckle beneath him, it wasn’t fair. He clenched his jaw to keep quiet. 

Demarion’s thumb brushed over his lip. “Careful you don’t bite through that tongue of yours out of sheer stubbornness.” 

Adrian snapped at his fingers. His blood pounded through his head. He couldn’t tell if it was water or blood on his back, or perhaps both to sting so much. Literal salt in the wound. 

His fury rose in turn. What right did Demarion have to be furious with him? He wasn’t the prisoner. 

Six, seven, eight.

“I hate you.”

Demarion petted his hair, entirely too condescendingly for a man who ordered him flogged. “Don’t hurt yourself, darling. I can do that for you just fine if you get the urge.”

Adrian lost count. He couldn’t distinguish anymore, his entire back just felt like it was on fire. His ears rang. His vision blurred around the edges. His knees hit the deck. His only remaining stubbornness, if it could even be called that with Demarion’s possessive hand on his jaw, was not closing his eyes or looking away.

He’d got too used to life on the Leviathan, to Demarion and his questions. He’d almost forgotten that this was the ship and captain that devoured sailors whole, without mercy. Somehow, he’d almost thought that for all of his threats Demarion wouldn’t actually hurt him. 

It was useful to know his apparent and mysterious protection didn’t extend that far. 

Demarion didn’t look away the whole time, and he didn’t smile. He didn’t seem particularly amused for all of Adrian’s occasional growl of ‘sadistic bastard’. 

Adrian gained consciousness in the captain’s quarters, unsure how he got there. His back hurt. The thought of jumping into a salted ocean felt unbearable. 

Demarion’s hand pressed warm on the back of his neck. 

“I scared you,” Adrian muttered into the soft bedding beneath him. That - whatever that had just been, hadn’t been the calculating pirate captain he’d seen so far. Sure, whipping him probably discouraged him from bad behaviour, but it didn’t reasonably guarantee good behaviour either. “Why do you want me alive?”

“Stubborn.” Demarion’s thumb stroked idle circles into his skin. “You’ve been awake for less than a minute.” 

“Stubborn enough to throw myself into the ocean again just to irritate you, if you don’t start to give me answers. Maybe next time you won’t be so quick.”

“You’re not suicidal, Adrian. And I know you don’t want to be whipped again.”

“Are you willing to call my bluff on the matter? Maybe I’m masochistic.”

“I see my lesson didn’t sink into you in the slightest.”

“Oh, I understand.” He could fight if he wanted, but Demarion would bat back without hesitation. “Life would be easier for me if I behaved.” He twisted his head to peer at the pirate over his shoulder, grimacing. “But do you understand that life would also be easier on you if you answered my question.”

“Infuriating,” Demarion muttered.

“Should have let me drown.” 

Demarion scowled at him, eyes still dark, still furious, simmering with a dozen different things. His hand tightened on Adrian’s throat before he sighed and shucked off his shirt. 

It was a hard won victory. The scars on his back would heal though. 

The…scars on Demarion’s chest would not. 

Adrian’s eyes widened. 

“My locket,” he said. The scars on Demarion’s chest formed the same familiar pattern as the old heirloom - a trident. Common enough in nautical things, and yet…”I don’t understand.” 

“Neither do I,” Demarion said. “Perhaps you can die when I do.”