clockworknightmares reblogged
Long, sharp nails drawn gently over bared skin. The muscles flinch at the contact, but there's no pain. Not yet.
The whumper wants to watch them squirm first.
clockworknightmares reblogged
Oh my gosh, they were cell-mates
This isn’t part of the bingo card, nor was it requested. But I wanted to write it anyway. This is how Pippin and his later boyfriend/caretaker met.
TW: Non-con/creepy touching, being made mute
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Pippin learned very quickly what Missy was and what she was like. She was a shadow demon… Known for their power and need for control. But more importantly, their unrivaled cruelty. Pippin had only been here for a few days but he was already beginning to understand why they were famous.
He quickly crumbled into obedience. Not entirely submission. He still had some pride… But it was hard to fight when the very darkness of his cell could grab at him, hold him in place, and hurt him at Missy’s mere whim. He became jumpy. He would flinch and tense every time he thought he saw movement in the shadows. He frequently got lost in his own head as he zoned out between… Encounters… With Missy. This is what was happening as he heard his door unlocking. His head snapped over towards the heavy metal door. He stood stiffly and watched Missy walk in.
Missy all but sauntered over, grinning a wolfish, sharp-toothed smile that made dread pool in the pit of his stomach. She walked up to him and, not so gently, pinched one of his cheeks. He flinched but knew better than to push her away or even touch her. Her smile grew wider. “Oh pet, I have some very good news for you!” Pippin had a feeling that it was the exact opposite, but he kept his mouth shut. “I was able to acquire an Incubus! And not one of those common low-lives, one of the more rare ones! One of the ones who only need contact. To touch and be touched.” Missy almost seemed like she would squeal in excitement.
Pippin tensed… The feeling of dread rising up into his chest. “Ok… But why tell me? What does that have to do with me?”
Missy chuckled and booped his nose, “You’re gonna be his food, silly! I can’t leave him alone, he’d starve to death. And I can’t have that!” She rested her head on her hand, being much too casual for Pippin’s comfort. “And, while the Angel is cute, She is rather jumpy. Besides… I think he’ll appreciate you much more pretty boy.” Her demeanor instantly shifted back to the dangerous one he had gotten used to.
He could barely process what she was saying, but once it clicked, his brow furrowed. “No! No, it’s bad enough I have to let you touch me! I’m not going to let an Incubus feed off of me!” He suddenly felt very exposed and vulnerable. He defiantly crossed his arms over his chest.
Missy simply raised an eyebrow, but Pippin couldn’t tell if it was anger or amusement. She looked him up and down. Before suddenly lunging and grabbing his shirt and slamming him against the wall. “You say that as though you have any choice in the matter.” Her voice is dangerously low and practically dripping with venom. She let go of him and Pippin felt momentary relief… Before he saw her flick her wrist.
The shadows on the wall quickly crawled towards him and reached out to him. Becoming physical… Things. Shapes that grabbed him tight enough to bruise. He tried to fight them… To pull away. But they just held tighter to him, making him wince. The shadows wrapped themselves around his wrists and pulled them high above his head. Even pulling him up off the ground slightly so he was only on his tip-toes. He bit his lip, trying to keep calm and not show Missy how vulnerable he felt. But it didn’t last as he felt his wings get grabbed. He panicked and flailed as best he could, trying to keep them from stretching his wingspan. But it was like fighting against moving stone. His struggling barely seemed to slow it at all. He looked around… He wondered if, if butterflies were still alive as they were pinned down to the corkboard, would this be what it would feel like? It sure as Hell felt that way to him… A tear slid down his cheek.
He startled as it was wiped away. Missy was practically in his face and gloating. She had a mock pout and faked concern as she cupped his cheek. She quietly shushed him and ran her fingers through his hair. He looked at anywhere but her face. But he tensed again as her hands reached for his shirt. “What… What are you do-?” He was cut off by Missy shushing him again and placing her finger over his lips. And he suddenly found himself unable to open his mouth. But he barely had time to panic over that development… As he felt Missy unbuttoning his shirt. He made a startled sound and tried again to struggle and flail desperately. Missy sent him an icy glare. Pippin slowed to a stop and just closed his eyes. Missy seemed satisfied as she continued to unbutton his shirt, exposing his torso.
She took her time as she worked, reveling in the panic riddled and shaky little breaths and noises Pippin kept making. But once she was done, she ever so gently kissed Pippin’s neck and dragged a clawed nail down his chest. She chuckled softly at the shudder and choked sob it earned. “Yes, I do believe he will appreciate you much more than the angel, pretty boy.” She walked over to the door and walked out.
Pippin hesitantly opened his eyes once he was sure she was gone. And he broke down in sobs.
It was several minutes before he heard the door unlocking again. He tensed and pressed himself against the wall, struggling to not panic. The door opened and a man was shoved in roughly, and the door was quickly shut. The man turned to the door and began pounding on it, shouting angrily. Pippin felt his heart drop. He was already so exposed, and this man was angry. Would he take his anger out him? Pippin couldn’t hold back a scared whimper. It was quiet… But it was enough to catch the man’s attention. He turned around to look at Pippin. Pippin shifted and tried to press into the wall. If he could… If he could just put distance between him and this stranger. But his feet kept slipping and he was firmly against the wall already. A fresh wave of panic washed over him and he started crying again.
The man seemed confused at first. Staying back and looking at Pippin. But as soon as Pippin began crying, he seemed to shift. He rushed over towards him. He looked worried. “Are you hurt?” His voice held concern as he carefully looked over Pippin, searching for any obvious injuries. He reached a hand out towards him and Pippin let out another scared whimper as he screwed his eyes shut. But the intrusive touch and the roaming hands never came. Instead, he heard the man say soothingly, “Hey, hey, calm down. I’m not gonna hurt you. What's… What’s going on? Why are you strung up like-“
Pippin hesitantly opened his eyes and was met with gentle eyes in return. "Hello there. I’m Amicus… I’m not… I’m not going to touch you. Is that what she did this for? For me to feed on you?” Pippin nodded. And the man- Amicus- sighed. “I’m sorry… I would never… That’s not me.” The man offered a kind and sympathetic smile. “You’re safe with me, I promise.” He saw Amicus look down at his unbuttoned shirt, then back up at his face. “Would you feel more comfortable if I buttoned that back up?” Pippin frantically nodded. Amicus nodded back and got to work.
Pippin watched him, expecting it to be some sort of trick… But it wasn’t. And he looked at Amicus too. Perhaps he could grow to like him.
Bad Things Happen Bingo fill #4 Prompt: Sleep deprivation Requested by: @whumpxng Character(s): Dray, Rowena Word count: 549
It had been so long- too long since Dray has slept. His eyes ache constantly, yearning to close and give him the rest he so desperately needs, but his body won’t allow it. He’s not sure what Rowena’s had injected into him, though he’s assuming it has something to do with the sleep problem.
More agonizing is the fact that he’s chained to a soft bed, dim lighting, the perfect environment to sleep. But he can’t. At first he was just bored- then tired… then exhausted. And still he was allowed no rest. A hooded priestess administers the injections, but Dray knows this is by Rowena’s orders.
The room is warm and stifling and Dray’s covered in a thin sheen of sweat. But it’s better than the cold. He twists and turns on the bed trying to rest, to get comfortable but no position provides that. He wants to scream in tired frustration, but he can’t even seem to be able to do that.
How long had it been? How long are they going to keep him like this? Where was Rowena? His shoulders ache from being cuffed up to the headboard. Dray doesn’t know how time passes. Has it been a day? Two? A week?
He’s exhausted, achingly so. Almost delirious. It feels warmer in the room. Suffocating. He doesn’t mean to cry- it just happens. Eyes squeezed shut, he tries to think of something- anything else other than how much he needs rest.
Somewhere in the delirium Dray feels an icy hand against his cheek, gently stroking the scars scattered across his face. No clawed fingertips, just perfectly smooth cold hands. Someone’s unlocking his wrists from the padded cuffs and pulling him into their lap, stroking his face and hair, murmuring soft soothing words.
“There now is that what you wanted? Did you want me darling? I’m here now.”
He just nods miserably. “P-please- I need- I can’t- I’m so tired.”
Rowena tucks his head against her chest. “Then why don’t you sleep? What’s wrong? It’s quiet and the bed is comfortable. I’m here with you. Is it not enough?”
“I can’t”, he almost wails. He doesn’t know- he’s too exhausted to explain. “Please let me sleep.”
“If you want to sleep, then you sleep here with me.”
And then Dray realizes her reasoning. He remembers refusing that very thing before they had brought him to this room. His pride wants him to refuse- but his body feels like it’s drowning in quicksand.
“Y-Yes- please I will- I’ll do what you want just please let me sleep”, he says softly, every begging word revolting to him. But he can’t care right now. He needs rest.
Dray knows she’s smiling, he can hear it in her voice, that triumphant twinge. “Very well then.” She settles down next to him, pulling him against her side, his head against her hip where she can keep her hand in his hair. He hates it but if he gets to rest…
Her fingers are at his temples and suddenly it’s like a wall is broken and he feels the immense exhaustion wash over him. “Sleep now. I’m right here.” He mumbles a half coherent “thank you” and passes out.
Rowena smiles to herself, running her fingers through his dark hair. He’s learning.
clockworknightmares reblogged
lux + 🔪 (eye) (god this poor child)
Send “🔪+[body part]” to cause physical injury.
Warning for eye gore and bone crunchiness.
The Hunter comes back to his senses, after blacking out from rage, his vision clearing and his hand throbbing.
There’s blood on his knuckles, someone under him, and odd soft sounds. Hitching, shallow breaths. Little pitchy whimpers. Each faint gasp is a hhhk, hhhkk, hhhk.
He’s really done some damage this time. His light is bloody, face broken from too many heavy blows. He must’ve been very bad to upset the Hunter like this. His eye is… not much of an eye anymore. The cheekbone is surely shattered, the orbital socket crumpled up and wrong.
The Hunter takes hold of the warlock’s chin, turning his head to see the good side. There’s a blue eye, perfectly intact, wide and wet and glassed over from the pain, or the horror. The eye shuts and a shudder rips through him when a big shadow creeps over him, his captor leaning down to press a kiss to his brow on the less broken side. A ragged whine is pulled from Lux, still barely breathing.
“You’re not afraid of dying, are you, darling?” The Hunter asks, pressing another kiss over his closed eye delicately. “I wouldn’t let you. Shh, don’t make those sounds, my light, I’ll fix you. I’ve always loved those baby blues.”
Fixing a skull. “It’ll take a while. You’ll be so grateful when it’s done, won’t you? You won’t make me angry like that again. Shh, shh, I know you’re afraid.” The comforting is so disparate with the brutal beating that Lux doesn’t register it as the same person. He whines again, longing for more assurances, more promises of forgiveness.
“You’ll be just fine, I promise, little one.” A large hand settles lightly over the damage, just barely touching the crunched up cheekbone and jaw knocked askew and that buckled eye socket, and Lux gives only a shudder and a moan.
The spell begins, weaving the shards back together, and the pained sounds from the beating return in earnest. Really, it’s the least Lux can do, suffering like this, to earn forgiveness.
