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Decided to do more MerMay but whump this time.

And it's been a moment since I last hurt my favorite iron boy sooooo.... 😈 *turns Gajeel into a chain catshark*

@whumpninja 's MerMay for Whumpers

Day 24. Captured for a prize

@amonthofwhump

Day 2: Sensory Overload

Additional CW: poisoned, migraines, unintentional self-harm

Gajeel whump taglist: @blackberry-bloody , @ostensiblyfunctional

It was those fucking mushrooms.

The mushrooms Jet had stepped on earlier and accidentally got him gassed with a cloud of spores.

It had to be. Nothing else would make sense as to why Gajeel's head currently felt like it was being run over by a train. The fungus had smelled like shit but he'd trade that hell for this one any day.

Everything was too damn bright. Too damn loud.

The glare of the sun sharpened into invisible needles and turned up the saturation of every color around him to maximum. The too-bright grass. The too-bright sky. The eye-searing yellow of Levy's blouse.

“Gajeel? Are you okay?” he heard her ask, concern clear in her voice.

If that toxin had only been affecting his sight, he would've declined anything was wrong and moved on with limited use of his eyes. Annoying, but manageable with his ears and nose compensating and the rest of Team Shadowgear's presence.

But nope. The toxin was fucking over his senses in every aspect it could.

Of course it had to be him, as his shit luck would have it. Of fucking course it had to be the guy with dragon level sensory that already gave him migraines on a bad day.

Levy's voice, the crunch of leaves under Jet and Droy's shoes as they rushed over, the gusting wind, every single bird, leaf, bug, and brook within a half-mile radius. His own pained breathing and pounding heart. Even through his hands clutched over his ears, the cacophony of noise was ripping down the walls of his focus that usually protected his mind from being overwhelmed.

It felt like there was an electric surge under his skin and suddenly he had an acute awareness of everything touching him. The fibers of his clothes itched. The bits of metal braided in his hair scratched at the back of his neck. Something grasped his arm. Despite its gentleness, his nerves prickled and lit aflame as if it burned. That shouldn't have hurt. Why did it hurt? What the fuck was this poison? He couldn't stop himself from flinching away and uttering a low defensive growl from deep in his throat. Even that grated on his eardrums.

The touch recoiled and didn't return.

A sharp tang of blood stung his nose and only then did Gajeel realize his claws had dug into his scalp. A brief distraction before it blurred into everything else becoming too much. His chest was tight. It was hard to breathe. His brain was trying to break through his skull. It was too much. Too much. Too much!

Silence hit like the world pressed an off button.

For a moment, panic took over in the midst of his confusion, his head screaming oh gods did he just lose-

No, no wait. He could still hear himself breathing (at least through the persistent ringing). He could still hear. It's just everything else around him that had decided to clam up.

He smelled the other three around him, and with caution, opened one eye to test his vision. His head still hurt. At some point he must've fallen to his knees, as the ground was much closer than it was before. And darker.

Actually everything appeared darker.

Gajeel finally looked up, seeing the team's alarmed faces in front of him, Levy kneeling down close while Jet and Droy stood a little bit behind her. Close but not too close. He shoved aside the embarrassment to ignore again later in favor of wondering why everything was different.

It felt like a thick filter on a pair of sunglasses and he was not going to complain. It was a blissful mercy. The light was suppressed and while the colors were still a bit too vibrant, this was leagues better than the eyestrain of before. He almost asked about it when he noticed two tangible words floating above Levy's head.

‘Soundproof’ ‘Dim’

Ah. That explained it.

Levy's moving hands caught his attention and her fingers followed the gestures to substitute for spoken words.

“Are you okay? What happened?”

The assault of noise had stopped but Gajeel still hesitated before removing his hands from his ears to respond to her. Some sliver of paranoia expected something to blare out and send him reeling again, but he trusted Levy's magic to hold.

“Mushroom spores,” he signed. Making eye contact with Jet, he added, “the one you crushed a few minutes ago.”

The sound that left Jet's lips did not carry through the soundproof dome, but Gajeel could recognize a curse anywhere. A series of gestured apologies followed in quick succession. Droy shot the man a questioning glance.

Gajeel figured the two stood outside the range of Levy's magic, as the two exchanged words he couldn't hear before Droy began to address him in sign language.

“From the description, it was most likely a Red Screamer fungus,” he explained, and Gajeel almost laughed at how fitting the name was. “The toxin does attack sensory neurons and cause overstimulation, but it is temporary. It should hopefully wear off in a couple hours.”

Ugh. A few hours of this shit? For once he was grateful they chose to take a less intensive job that wasn't too time sensitive. It would've been a nightmare if he needed to fight off some monster or dark guild bastard in this condition.

The discontent must have been clear in his face, for Levy piped up. “If we make camp here and rest a while, I believe I can hold the spells for the duration.”

The nagging thoughts returned, trying to push him to keep moving and not waste time. That nagging voice that always lied to him saying he could walk it off and get work done. Key word: lied. The reality was that bad sensory days always burned him out and it was no different now.

A short, tired nod gave them permission.

Deceitful

@whumpuary AO3

Prompt 1

Captivity | Snow

Prompt 8

Muffled screams

CW: captivity, slave whump, left out in the cold, nonhuman whumpee, lady whumper, restraints, muzzles, slapping

The Champion taglist: @emmettverse , @ostensiblyfunctional , @scoundrelwithboba

It wasn't usual for the Cerulean Crescent to receive snowfall, but on occasion there'd be a winter where the temperatures drop low enough.

When you're located higher up in altitude - like Master Scarlet's manor, rested on the mountainside overlooking the valley below - the likelihood increases.

The Champion assumed the view would be appealing to those with a taste for luxury. At least when it wasn't obstructed by the darkness of night and the drowning haze of a snowstorm. He guessed many would find a more clear daytime view a pleasing sight, like a painting in a museum.

He himself never saw the appeal.

He never did like the cold.

Snow was cruelly deceitful. From afar the crystalline flakes looked harmless, coating the outside world in what many compare to a pristine, white fluffy blanket.

Another gust of bitter wind rattled his bones, and the Champion tried and failed again to pull his trembling limbs against his core in effort to keep warm. The thin silks draped over his body provided little protection.

Snow crystals were more akin to tiny knives if you asked him. Their gelid touch searing his toes where he stood. He spent several minutes earlier trying to clear away all the snow beneath his feet, but the shackles at his ankles didn't grant him much room.

He had messed up again.

Master had a guest over, some rich businessman dressed with the money he'd leached from his workers and customers. His jewelry by itself would probably pay for several bets for the Champion’s ring matches. The fabrics had so many ostentatious colors the tiefling had a hard time telling which garment was which.

Master had ordered him to serve the two. So he relayed refreshments back and forth from the servant tending the bar and the servant arriving from the kitchen. Of course, he wasn't permitted to touch any of the food or drinks, not even with his stomach gnawing in protest. The Champion’s only purpose there was to obey, be silent, and look pretty.

It certainly wasn't pretty when he tripped over the edge of the rug and sent two full glasses of red wine spilling onto the man's expensive outfit.

A desperate apology was halfway past his lips when a backhand struck him across the face. Rings painted red onto his cheek. Pain rang in his ears, dulling the sound of the man's furious yelling.

Master said not a word, but closed the distance between them before the Champion could recover. One hand waved and a spell lifted the stains from her guest's clothes. After calling for a servant to come assist the man, her other hand snatched her pet by his horns and began dragging him towards the balcony.

He knew by now that resisting would make things worse.

It hadn't been his first time on the outdoor space. When it was warm out, and when he was being well behaved, Master would allow him to accompany her outside. But tonight the cold was wet and unforgiving and the Champion was to be punished.

Master must've planned for this at some point. There were already metal chains bolted to the brick exterior wall waiting for him.

Their frigid bite snapped right to the bone.

How long has it been since she left him there? Hours? It definitely felt like it. The lashing winds seemed endless and the Champion stood unable to shield himself. The chains forced his limbs apart and all he could do was press his fingers into his palms, press his raised arms against his ears, and curl his tail around his waist. Granting meager solace to vulnerable extremities from the icy curtains raining down.

It didn't help much.

He wished he could scream. He'd already tried. Tried to call to his master and plead to be spared further torment from the elements. But it was no use with the muzzle. Master had strapped it to his face right before heading back to the heated comfort of the indoors. All his cries were muffled before they ever had a chance to echo off the mountainside.

He kept his eyes squeezed shut, afraid that the stinging gales would freeze any tears to his face. That's likely why he didn’t notice Master approach until she was snapping her fingers to get the tiefling’s attention.

He didn't understand how the frozen night wasn't bothering her.

The shackles released him, letting him fall into the snow when his feet were too numb to support his body. The wet sapped at fleeting body heat but he was too cold and too tired to do anything but shiver where he laid.

“Well?” Master’s voice rang clear above him, unfazed and apathetic. “Do you wish to return inside or not?”

Oh. So she was expecting him to drag himself back this time.

At least forcing himself to crawl across the balcony brought some feeling back into his hands.

The blissful embrace of the fireplace's warmth was only slightly dampened by Master making him apologize to the man for the spilled wine.

It was dampened far more when, instead of allowing him to curl up on the hearth, to chase away the chills trapped against his skin, she ordered him to the couch to lie in her lap.

The Champion hated how easily he submitted to it. Even more than the snow.

reward doodle for @firapolemos05 since they responded to our last Creativity Crew podcast episode with The Code Word (and they're so nice about leaving feedback on our episodes <3).

this is Scarlet, one of their OCs and a very enjoyable lady whumper to read. ;) highly recommend checking out Fira's work to see her in action (Scarlet's tag is here)!

---

My Commission Sheet | My Art | My Ko-fi

No devil hides beneath my bed

Part 1, Part 2

AO3 CW: nsfw (minors dni), whumper pov, past noncon, promise of future noncon, pet whump, captivity, dehumanization, sexual slavery, put on display, intimate whumper, creepy whumper, multiple whumpers, cages, restraints, ring gag, forced arousal, object insertion, overstimulation, auction, noncon touching

Tonight Scarlet hosts the Lanista Society for a special dinner event. The Champion is the coveted prize, and Ivan is honored to have been the cause of it.

Champion taglist: @emmettnet , @ostensiblyfunctional

Ivan is left marveling once again at his superior's immaculate taste.

High Martinet Matar sure knew how to throw a party.

Her guests had been greeted with the finest. A banquet of gourmet Crescentine dishes and exotic delicacies. Fresh fruits and cheeses, tender meats and fish, spiced breads and decadent sweets, aged wines from the mountain vineyards. The finest money and magic could offer.

Their venue is just as grand, perhaps more so due to its creativity. A conjured demiplane Scarlet produced specially for this affair. Ivan finds it rather ingenious.

The woman was no stranger to hosting guests at her manor; he himself had been there only last week. But she limits those meetings to no more than a few people at a time. Fewer bodies are easier to keep track of. With large parties like this, comes the ever present risk of unsavory infiltrators. The Lanista Society held members with many enemies. The uninvited in disguise or potential rivals waiting for the right moment to snoop around. Larger groups made it inconvenient to keep tabs on everyone.

The demiplane removed that risk.

No need to worry about the unwanted loose in your home if you're not bringing them to your home to begin with.

And as a bonus, the spell's design was limited only by the imagination. And a wizard of Scarlet's caliber knew fine decor.

All which was fully on display for tonight's event. It was a special occasion after all.

On one end of the chamber, seated on a raised platform, was an ornate bronze cage. Round and domed at the top like one of those old-fashioned bird cages that didn't allow room for the bird to spread its wings. However this cage was far larger, for its occupant was no bird.

Scarlet found the perfect display for the Society's beloved Champion. An advantageous maneuver given he was the subject of business this evening. If Ivan had thought he looked enticing their first meeting a week ago, Scarlet had expertly ensured that the people present now would be incapable of keeping their eyes off him.

In fact, there was already a crowd forming around the cage.

Knees spread and wrists secured above him, the Champion was giving everyone a show with his trembling body. Years of fighting had toned his muscles, and the shimmering red velvet bands only accentuated them. Scarlet must have gotten the outfit custom tailored, for it turned the tiefling's form into a canvas painted with red. Velvet strips hugging his thighs and shoulders. Flowers of beaded lace climbing from hip to collar to the small of his back. Dangling garnets mimicked the appearance of dripping blood.

Absolutely exquisite.

Scarlet had elected to keep his lower region covered, draping that same black cloth around his waist that he'd worn last time. Ivan could see the sense; what was already being shown was enough of a free sample.

The guests were permitted to touch, at least to the extent they were allowed without having to pay. And the Champion’s body was a buffet getting more attention than the actual food. Fingers traced the soft velvet, then slipped in between to caress exposed skin.

“He has the best reactions if you stroke his tail,” Ivan had informed them, and they were quick to take advantage.

The touches worked well to elicit forced pleasure, though perhaps not as much as some other things.

Scarlet couldn't allow her pet to spend the whole party glaring or growling at guests, so Ivan suggested a means to keep him occupied. Just a couple simple toys, one placed inside him and the other encircling the base of his tail where he was most sensitive. Both hidden from the guests eyes with a specially crafted belt that doubled to prevent the tiefling from making a mess of himself.

From how much he was trembling, struggling to close his legs, face flushed as he moaned around the ring gag strapped around his head, the toys were doing their job. And the guests were very much appreciating the sight. Ivan could see a number of people with their hands under their pants.

He couldn't blame them. They stood before a desperate succubus, beckoning them all with pleading huffs of breath and squirming hips. Ivan himself was imagining how pretty that face would look around his cock.

He would have to wait his turn.

Ting! Ting! Ting!

The rhythmic taps of a wine glass drew the attention of the masses to the head of the table where Scarlet stands.

“Now now, everyone. I know my pet has been an exciting treat for you all, but I do hope you help yourselves to the dessert table.”

There were more than a few bouts of embarrassed laughter. Ivan included, as he too nearly forgot to go fill up his dish.

“I'm pleased to see he has garnered such interest,” she continues. “Just a quick reminder that the bidding period ends in thirty minutes. The current highest offer stands at 2,500 platinum.”

Well, not too bad a price tag for the Champion’s first official patron (Ivan's previous night with him didn't count). And if this went to a formal auction at the end of the party, if there was still an active bidding war, that amount would likely grow.

But already, he'd be returning home tomorrow with a decent payment. In a deal that spoke wonders of her generosity, Scarlet had agreed to save a percentage of the funds for him. None of this would've happened had he not raised the suggestion to her.

Lucrative business indeed. Ivan could recognize many big names at this party. Politicians, industry tycoons, nobility, all those with plentiful riches and power. He wonders if he could convince some of them to assist him in forming a similar operation in Mężnydzik. Or perhaps a connected branch.

Those were thoughts for the future. Right now, he was enjoying the view.

The first moment the cage is clear of onlookers, Ivan walks over and reaches through the bronze bars to lift up the Champion’s head to face him. With how long he'd had his mouth held open, his chin was streaked with drool, but thankfully Ivan had the foresight to wear gloves.

“Just like I said, little devil,” he purrs, gazing into eyes that struggle to focus through the mind clouding sensations. The tiefling whines in protest as Ivan lets his other hand trail up his thigh. “I knew you'd be quite popular.”

There's a moment of clarity to the Champion’s stare. A moment he's able to fight through the tears and the unwanted stimulation and-

Oh. Well isn't that a nasty look.

Reference for the outfit here.