Sooo, I'm Literally IN LOVE With Intoxicating Fear, But... More Choking Whump Pretty Please??

sooo, I'm literally IN LOVE with Intoxicating Fear, but... more choking whump pretty please??

omg I'm literally so embarrassed to be saying this but I am OBSESSED with that tie scene between Kit and Ambrose, and just anything more like it... omg gimme!!

Thank you so much, your work is so, so appreciated by all of us!! Lots of lovee xoxo

KIDNAPPED

Anon! Thank you for the ask and nice words, it made me smile! But, fret not, You are not alone, I love choking scenes too there is something so - whumpy - about them. It's not Kit and Ambrose again, but I hope you enjoy this drabble :)

TW: choking, restraints, bound whumpee, choking described, gagged whumpee, collared whumpee, blindfolded whumpee, terrified whumpee, creepy whumper, intimate whumper

*~*~*~*~*

Whumpee flinched at the sound of the giant metal door thrumming open. They were shaking, their entire body was shaking and they couldn’t stop it no matter what. At first they tried to tense their muscles, they didn’t want to show their kidnapper(s) weakness, but that only seemed to make it worse.

They couldn’t move from the position they woke up, even if they tried. And they tried. The first thing they noticed when they woke up was that they were blindfolded and gagged. They shook their head, trying to loosen the things from their face but it was no use. They could hear the buckles of the restraints jingle as they moved, leather cutting into their cheeks.

That was enough to terrify them because they couldn’t see, and they couldn’t scream for help. Not that screaming would help them, it would probably only alert their kidnapper(s) that they were awake. Whumpee shuddered to think of their kidnapper(s) returning. They could still feel the needle in their neck, the hands on them. They wanted to be sick. They were going to be sick… but… oh god if they got sick with the gag in their mouth would they choke on it?

The gag was monstrous. It was like there was a ball of air inside their mouth, almost cutting off their air supply from their mouth, forcing them to breathe heavily through their nose. Every time they swallowed around the gag, their air would cut off and they would panic before they regained their composure. They groaned and not a sound came out, just a tiny whine in the back of their throat that threatened to choke them.

They didn’t want to think about that now. They needed to find a way to escape or focus on something else. Their position. Yes, their position. They were on their knees, sitting on their heels. Their shoes had been removed which unnerved them, so they were perched on their sock-clad heels. They knew the minute they woke up their legs were asleep and dead, stifling any chance at being able to get up and run. To take their kidnapper(s) by surprise and lunge at them.

The first thing they did was try to move their feet and get their legs out from under them, to get rid of the pins and needles before their kidnapper(s) came back. They quickly learned that their feet had cuffs locked around the ankles with a short length of chain attaching them to the ground. Whumpee had barely jerked their knee forward before the chain link yanked taut.

Their eyes went wide behind the blindfold once they realised they wouldn’t be able to move an inch away from the position, ensuring they would remain on their knees. Ensuring that their legs would be dead… ensuring they couldn’t get away.

Whumpee felt tears rise behind their eyes but they didn’t let them fall. They refused. It was easy, especially when the emotion clogged their throat and they started freaking out about not being able to breathe rather than cry so you know… perks.

Their hands were cuffed behind their back in the same way. A length of chain leading to a ring? Or a hook of metal that seemed to be embedded into the ground, or was that the wall? Whumpee tried to reach their fingers out but the chain pulled taut even as they reached backwards. Another length of rope was tied above their elbows, keeping them together snd Whumpee’s shoulder blades tensed.

Something heavy rested around their throat, but that was as far as they got in their assessment before they heard the door and they froze. They wished they stayed frozen, but then their traitorous body started to tremble like a baby lamb and they wanted to cry, or scream, or something! Something that was less pathetic than trembling like a nervous puppy.

They couldn’t see their kidnapper(s). They didn’t even know if light was flooding the room or whether it was dark outside. They couldn’t see if there were any windows or, or something, with the blindfold blocking out all traces of light and sight.

Whumpee flinched when they heard footsteps advancing, but it was the dark chuckle that followed which sent cold terror racing through their veins.

“Oh you are just precious,” Whumper said, his voice far closer than Whumpee would’ve liked. Their head turned to the sound, their eyes still trying to see what was happening in front of them. They felt breath on their face and they flinched back, their chains clinking as they moved. “Shush, you’re alright little dove.”

A hand grasped Whumpee’s chin, coarse fingers tilting their head left and right. Whumpee whimpered, trying to pull away from the hand but there was nowhere to go. The hand tightened on Whumpee’s face, the chuckle following Whumpee’s pathetic whine in the back of their throat.

“Oh, yes. You and I are going to get very well acquainted, little one. Kidnapper really knows my taste.” The man’s hand ran over the collar on Whumpee’s throat, squeezing the top of it, making it harder for Whumpee to breathe. They shook their head, trying to pull away, but the hand chased their movements and fuck. Whumpee heaved in breaths but they wouldn’t go down past the hand squeezing their neck, stopping any oxygen from reaching their lungs.

Whumpee screamed around the gag, but the result was a muted cry, punctuated by choking sounds and hitches in their throat.

Whumper pulled his hand back and Whumpee bowed their head forward, their entire body shuddering as they sucked in breaths through their snot ridden nose. Fat, hot tears rolled under the blindfold, down their cheeks as Whumpee sniffled.

Two big hands cupped Whumpee’s cheeks, stroking the tears away. “Oh you poor thing. You probably have no idea what’s going on, do you?”

Whumpee shook their head as best as they could, whimpering around the gag. “That’s okay. You never have to worry about anything again. From now on, I’ll do the thinking for both of us, and you will be my little treasure.”

Whumpee shuddered at the words that the man spoke as if they were comforting. They tried to express their protest but every noise from the back of their throat sounded the same. Helpless and muted. Just how Whumper liked them.

Whumpee is dying, nothing can stop it anymore. Instead of a goodbye - when Whumpee closes their eyes for the last time, when they take their final breaths, when their hand in Caretaker's goes limp - Caretaker whispers "good night."

The long awaited pt2 to the pneumonia/intubation Whump post (this one)...

Caretaker's glad Whumpee's so out of it from all the meds they're on. If they were more aware, they'd likely be terrified.

After all, the equipment that the doctors are pulling over on carts, laying out on the sheets, is enough to make Caretaker feel nauseous- they keep eyeing the metal device the doctor checks over, the one that muted whispers have denoted as the 'laryngoscope'.

They sit beside Whumpee's bed (they're allowed to for the time being, until Whumpee's actually asleep and the real procedure has to begin), holding the hand that hasn't been invaded by a cannula site. A nurse is positioned at Whumpee's other side already pumping them full of drugs that have Whumpee drifting, eyes open but barely there. Caretaker strokes their hair, giving them a wobbly smile as yet another dose of something or other is pushed into Whumpee's cannula.

"I'm right here, whumpee. I'm right here with you, sweetheart. Just try to relax."

The latter message is more for themselves than Whumpee, if they're honest. They're the one with a racing heartbeat- Whumpee's is slower now, as indicated by the dull beep-beep of the monitor they're hooked up to. Their breaths are slower too, so shallow that if they weren't already due to be intubated, Caretaker would be slamming on the emergency button.

"Propofol's going in now." One of the doctors says. Caretaker knows enough to understand that this means sleep, for Whumpee, is imminent.

Sure enough, within seconds of the syringe's plunger being pushed down, a glaze enters Whumpee's eyes, the lids becoming heavy. They open their mouth, tongue darting out to wet chapped lips for a moment as if they want to speak, but Caretaker, unshed tears in their eyes, shushes them gently.

"Hey, just sleep now, alright? Everyone's looking after you. Sweet dreams, Whumpee. Night night."

Whumpee's glassy gaze fixes on Caretaker's, narrowing and narrowing as their eyes drift closer to being closed until...

Out.

Caretaker leans forward, lower lip trembling slightly, and kisses Whumpee on the forehead, just as the doctor steps up behind them.

"Alright, we're gonna get started now. it's probably easier for you to wait outside and-"

"No." Caretaker interjects, tears nearly spilling over. "Sorry, no, I- I need to be here. I won't... I won't get in your way, I promise, I just- I need to be here for them."

And so they remain. They remain when the doctors place the mask over Whumpee's face, murmuring to each other about sats and correct timings. They remain when the principle anaesthesiologist brushes a fingertip below Whumpee's eyelashes, checking for movement and finding none. They remain when the same anesthesiologist stands behind Whumpee's head, removes the mask and tilts Whumpee's chin towards them, gently pulling open their mouth and sliding the laryngoscope in.

The blade slips into place too easily, Caretaker thinks. there's too little resistance. Whumpee should be gagging, thrashing about, screaming for help, but instead they lay unconscious and unmoving as it's driven deep into their throat, pushing their tongue out of the way to give the doctors a clear view of their vocal cords.

"Tube." the anesthesiologist says tersely. That long snaking tube, already lubricated, is placed atop a gloved palm.

Caretaker is tempted to look away as it's inserted, but their eyes are fixed. They watch as it's threaded past the laryngoscope, through the opening of the vocal cords that only the doctor can see. They watch as it slots fully into place and the anesthesiologist adjusts it, leaving it to rest against Whumpee's lower lip for only a moment before the cuff is inflated and the ventilator is hooked up to it instead.

And as the circuit is completed, Caretaker would think Whumpee dead- their eyes are closed, everything is so still, and whenever the tube needs a slight adjustment, they're floppy beneath the touch of the adjuster. Only when Caretaker looks closer do they see the continual, regular fogging of the tube with each assisted breath Whumpee takes- a sign that they're living, at least.

The anesthesiologist glances over at the screen, which to Caretaker looks merely like a smattering of numbers and wave forms.

"We've got N tidal CO2. Everything's connected. Secure the tube and continue to monitor."

With that, they step away, their primary task complete, and a nurse steps in instead- already equipped with an ET tube holder. Caretaker watches them gently press one of the sticky pads against Whumpee's cheek, then moving to the other cheek to apply the other pad. Between them, the tube is secured in place, and at last Whumpee is... Whumpee is...

Caretaker doesn't even realise they've moved to the bedside until they shakily lower themselves into the seat there, listening to the wooshing of the ventilator and the beeping of so many monitors.

Whumpee is... sick. really sick.

They've known it for a long time, of course, but seeing Whumpee intubated, sedated in an intensive care unit, their cheeks pale, sweat beading on their brow... it hammers reality home even further.

Home.

Whumpee isn't going to be going home for a long while yet.

Ooh, one of my favorite tropes. Smack your smart characters around until they're so stunned they're temporarily useless.

incapacitation

content warning

drugs that make a character woozy and disoriented. slurring words and falling slack, everything too heavy and confusing and muffled

blown pupils, wandering eyes, breathing too much or too little. sweating, shaking, puking, so limp and pale it’s almost like they’re dead

fevers so high a character's mind just turns to mush. glossy eyes tracking the ceiling, listless and unaware until eventually there's sweat sticking all over the sheets and they start mumbling some vague responses to caretaker's questions

tranquilizer dart that brings a character down all at once. one sudden jerk or look of confusion, not enough time to glance at it much less pull it out before eyes are rolling back and they collapse into the dirt

tranquilizer dart that comes on slowly. pulling it out and running and running until each step becomes too uncoordinated, stumbling or getting dragged along by a teammate until even their begging to stay awake, let's go, becomes hazy and distant

struck so hard that everything rings in one ugly roar. staggering or falling, told to sit down, just stay down. so confused and lost, repeating the same questions and forgetting the answer over and over and over again

character so messed up they struggle to follow any part of the conversation. everything too heavy and confusing and muffled, just useless and incoherent and completely oblivious to the situation

nervous prodding or pleading by caretaker, begging them to just stay awake or focus

jostled around by captor, told to get the fuck up and follow orders, easily manhandled around and restrained

mumbling nonsense and spilling secrets. stoic characters without any masks, so confused and broken and vulnerable, slipping and powerless in every sort of way

"you're okay, i promise you're okay"

“ah, shit. you’re a mess—”

“I guess you won’t remember this anyways…”

gaze drifting and blank, too faraway to track anything caretaker/captor is saying. nudged and prodded and pleaded at to no avail, just incoherent and out of it

too weak to move. beaten absolutely senseless or bleeding all over the place, a character just hurting and spent beyond means and sprawled flat against the ground

getting dragged along or stepped on, pinned down as if they're in any state to go anywhere

hypnotized and stunned into mindlessness. repeated mantras and rewired thoughts, a character made pliable and blank and used like a puppet

paralyzed but fully aware, left slack and useless and desperate with limp muscles and depressed breathing. assumed dead and abandoned, grieved over or dumped aside like a corpse, forced to watch and unable to do anything

poisoned and just getting worse and worse. teammates desperately looking for a cure while character deteriorates, puking and passing out and getting high fevers, hallucinating and begging for relief

characters taken out of commission when they're otherwise the strongest one. exposed to a weakness, given magical restraints or cuffs with neural suppressors to keep them docile, targeted and taken out

vertigo taking a character side to side, brought down and useless

Give me Caretaker bridal carrying a weak Whumpee who is desperately trying to stay conscious…Whumpees arms are around Caretakers neck and their head is bobbing up and down against Caretakers chest.

And then suddenly, all at once, Caretaker notices Whumpee somehow feels heavier. Caretaker looks down at Whumpee just as Whumpee’s arms fall limp and their head flops backwards. And Caretaker has to drop to the ground both out of shock and panic as well as to check that their precious cargo is still breathing and to recollect Whumpees deadweight limbs to their chest before they stand back up

🥺🥹