Nonhuman Whumpee - Tumblr Posts
Rescued defiant Whumpee who deoesn't exactly realise they're not in captivity anymore.
(Cw: Captivity aftermath, conditioned whumpee, nonhuman whumpee kinda?)
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(W): "Go on. Do your worst" (C) ".... Whumpee, look at it closely. It's a tiny bandage. With a kitten pattern on it. At this point I don't know what else to use to be even less threatening"
(C:) "You should at least try to eat. If you don't like this type of food, you can-" (W:) "What? Starve? Or let you push it down my throat? No matter how creative can you be, you won't impress me" (C:) "I meant tell me your preferences. I'm still learning to cook, you know"
(C:) "Do you want a hug?" (W:) "Do I have a choice to NOT be anywhere near you?" (C:) "Dude, you could just say no :'c "
(C:) *comically tearing up* "At this point I don't think you even like me a tiny bit!!" (W:) "S-stop that. What are you doing?" (C:) "What do you think?! I'm crying, cause you refuse to be friends with me! And I tried so hard!" (W:) "....s-stop that watery thing. I don't like it. It's concerning"
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For human, I've been playing with the idea of a human in a predominantly non-human world (someone else mentioned this, and it got my mind going), which would work great with the setting i have going of a modern fantasy type world (think D&D). Maybe humans have been mostly wiped out, and now they're high-ticket items.
I'm a big fan of avians, but I've been debating choosing it bc the Whumper is already an avian. Also, i would need to re-work a scene or two to fit it (but hey, i need more excuses for writing LMAO). On the plus side, wing whump is one of my all-time faves! Wing clipping, broken wings, bound wings, escape attempts via flying— all amazing!
The demihuman idea would need some more thought + another poll, but there are so many directions to go with demihumans! Whether they're natural-born or manmade hybrids, demihumans are so versatile for writing!
Whumpers who use affection to pacify aggressive Whumpees. Whumper's voice is calming and motherly, whispering praises as they run a hand through Whumpee's hair, offering sweets or pleasantries. In return, Whumpee adores them wholeheartedly. Whumpee puts on any restraints they are ordered to, comforts Whumper when they're stressed out, all that. But as soon as Whumper makes the command to tear someone apart? God have mercy on their soul, because Whumpee surely won't. As blood drips down Whumpee's chin, they nuzzle Whumper's hand, and puts the muzzle back on. Whumper gently whispers in Whumpee's ear: "Well done. Let's get you some treats." wtf why do you all like this so much
Here some whump. its been drifting in my google docs for a while, but here
its part of a larger series but won't be on tumblr
---
I lay on my back, reading the book Doctor Harland had just given me. I liked it thus far.
He kneeled next to me, petting my stomach while he hooked me up to some kind of machine. I dropped the book, remembering the page number, and I found myself unable to move.
“It’ll be over in a minute,” he whispered. I didn’t respond as my brain went foggy and I closed my eyes.
He bashed me in the side of the face, and my eyes flew open.
I stared at him, and he said, “Begin test number G-1-7-8-8,”
My muscles tensed and I went numb as something inserted itself in both sides of my neck and my muscles spasmed and I thrashed abou-
—
I came to with my muscles stiff.
“Test failed,” Doctor Harland remarked. “We need to deal with the epilepsy,”
He fastened an oxygen mask over my face and put an IV in my skin.
“We’ll feed you tonight, ‘kay? Just sleep off th-,”
Darkness.
—
I opened my eyes in my bed, and Doctor Harland entered a few minutes later.
“Sit up,” he ordered. I obeyed, and he handed me my book again.
“I’ll get you a treat for sitting quietly and letting us test our new device on you,”
I didn’t respond, immersed in the book’s world. It was about a girl who discovered she was the daughter of King Oberon from ‘A Midsummer Night’s Dream’. Doctor Harland said he would get me the rest of the series after giving me a modern translation of the play so I could better understand it.
He held out something that smelled sweet and I took it, then ate it, my tail wagging happily.
He pet my head and I purred.
“One-two-seven-three, any strange feelings?” He asked.
“No,” I chirped.
“Good. Good. Nausea? Tiredness? Breathing normally?”
He checked my heart rate and breathing for any abnormalities.
“Normal. Okay. Darling little test subject, we’re going to try and treat the illness that made this test fail. We’re going to cure it,”
“What illness?” I asked.
“You- have a reaction to certain things, and it causes you to stop existing for a minute, meaning we can’t do certain tests. We try to treat it and you don’t respond to medications, so we need to cut it out,”
I felt something cold on my wrist and whimpered, “No, not again, don’t look at my brain- please!”
“What? No. The procedure requires you to be awake or you’ll die, we’ve already tested it, and it’s painful. We’d give you painkillers, but that’s unsafe until after,”
I shuddered and hissed when he brought his hand to my tail. I tried to bite him as he tied it under the bed and shackled my other three wrists and my ankles to the bed.
“Please! NO!”
“It’ll all be over soon,”
He called for Doctor Fletcher and Doctor Amatris. Doctor Amatris held my chest down and Doctor Fletcher attached electrodes to my skull, and I felt like I exploded a few minutes later. I shrieked and thrashed around, when I heard something snap.
“Oh shit!” Doctor Amatris shouted.
I felt the pain dull a bit, and Doctor Harland whispered, “Its over, you’re going to have morphine tablets now,”
“Okay,” I mumbled before changing form to my more human self and laying back, my forehead caked with sweat. They undid the shackles, and Doctor Amatris took my hand in hers and the trio set my leg in a splint.
I cried out and whimpered, “Hurts,” when Doctor Fletcher shoved a capsule into my mouth and held my lips shut until I swallowed, then gave me water.
I rolled to my side and shivered, still in deep pain. I started crying and Doctor Harland sat me up and started hand feeding me between each sob. It was cold, barely seasoned chicken, like always.
When I was done, I dove under the bed, where it was calmest, no one trying to talk to me, even though it was dark.
“One-two-seven-three, don’t be like that,” Doctor Fletcher said. “Do you want to undo all the progress in training out that habit?”
I hissed at him and swatted at his ankles, then curled into a ball and continued crying into my fur.
Doctor Amatris kneeled in front of me and held out her hand. I didn’t take it. She very gently petted the fluff on my neck, and I continued sobbing, though it made me feel a bit better.
“It’s okay,” she whispered. “The pain’s over now,”
She very slowly pulled me out, as though acclimating a fish from one tank to another. At one point I had a couple fish and a snail, and in a rage, Doctor Harland smashed the tank, killing all three of them. I cried for weeks after that, as at that point, I’d been taking care of them for four years.
“There, how do you feel?”
“Hurts,” I croaked, my voice raw. It felt like the color red to speak.
She lifted me and set me back on the bed, tucked me in like a mother would her child, and kissed me on where my forehead would be, and when she left, Doctor Harland inserted an IV into my skin. She wasn’t allowed to see it, for some reason, I wasn’t even sure if she knew.
I closed my eyes and let sleep take me.
—
What was supposed to be a dreamless sleep became a nightmare, one where I was playing with a child, and we were about the same height. It was all flashing lights and pain and fear when someone grabbed me, and-
I woke up, screaming for someone whose name I didn’t remember. The IV had broken.
I took off my oxygen mask and sobbed in the dark. Normally Doctor Harland stayed to make sure I felt safe at night, it was too dark for me. I wished I had control of my lights, but past lights-out, they couldn’t be turned on unless Doctor Harland or someone else swiped a keycard.
I heard rapid footsteps, and a woman in a dark blue uniform with a thick black stick and a big spiky club opened the door, then said into a strange black box, “False alarm. One of them woke up, over,”
A garbled voice came from the box, “How?”
“Its IV looks broken,”
“Which one?”
She stepped back and looked at the sign that said my room number with a beam of light that came from a black stick.
I ran over and took the lightstick after a bit of back and forth, then clicked the button on and off as she said, “It just took my flashlight,”
I called, “Room 5-6-6 B!” and went back to playing with the ‘flashlight’, then grabbed my book and started reading with the concentrated beam of light.
The woman repeated the room number I gave her and said, “I’m gonna need back-up to get it back into bed, its strong,”
I got under my bed and continued reading, until someone else in a dark blue uniform grabbed me and bashed me with a spike on their club. I dropped the ‘flashlight’ and-
-
I came to with my upper wrists shackled to my bed’s headboard and my entire body numb.
“Okay, so, two hundred million watts can cause seizures. Duly noted,” the one who’d hit me with the spike muttered.
“Seizure? Watt?” I parroted, trying to get feeling back in my tongue. “Why’d you do that?”
“Holy shit it talks,” the woman said.
“Yes I talk, why wouldn’t I talk? Also, I’m not an it, I’m- I’m a girl,”
“Someone get one of the night shift doctors,” the woman ordered. Another person left the room.
“It’s dark!” I complained.
The woman groaned and said, “Deal with it, how old are you, seven, eight?”
“Thirteen, fourteen in four months and two days,”
“How are you that old? Why haven’t you committed suicide yet?” the man asked.
“Suicide?” I’d parroted. I knew what it met at a base level, but in books they always said it in association with a stupid battle plan.
“You know, killing yo-”
“I know what it means, I just thought it only went with wars?”
“What?”
“In books,” I chirped. I motioned to one that said it, then said the page number.
“Oh-kaaay, you can read,”
“Isn’t that normal? Well except illiteracy rates in fantasy places, but isn’t it normal now?”
The man who’d left returned with Doctor Amatris.
“One-two-seven-three, what’s wrong?” she asked.
“I had a nightmare,” I replied.
“Come here,”
“I can’t,”
She took a key from one of the security guards and unlocked my manacles, then lifted me into her arms, though it was much more awkward than when I was little, considering I was about as big as her now.
I laid my chin on her shoulder, and she carried me away, off to another room, this one with more light.
“We oughta get you a nightlight,”
“Nightlight?” I parroted. “What’s that?”
“Its a little light that plugs into a wall and makes the room brighter,”
She unhooked a little square that glowed blue until it exited the wall, “Normally they come in fun shapes, but until I go shopping tomorrow, we can use this one. I’ll get a bunch of them and let you pick them out, okay?”
“Okay,” I chirped.
She carried me back to my room and lay me on my bed, and I grabbed her arm and whimpered, “Don’t go. Don’t leave me alone,”
“I have to go back to work,”
“I’m scared,” I whimpered.
She turned back around and fastened my oxygen mask on my mouth and nose.
“You’ll be fine. And if you wake up again, I’ll come back and keep you company ‘til you fall asleep again. Now close your eyes, goodnight, don’t let the bed bugs bite,”
“What’s a bed bug?”
“You don’t want to know,”
She shuddered and tucked me in, then kneeled next to me and rubbed my forehead to calm me. But sleep would be a long time coming. I didn’t fall asleep until all the lights turned back on.
nonhuman whumper OR nonhuman whumpee // blood and gore OR mindbreak // chained up tightly in the basement OR kept in a cage // whumpee that is terrified of death OR whumpee that begs for it // bad ending (whumpee stays trapped forever) OR good ending (escape + recovery arc) // non-con touching OR starving whumpee of physical contact // whumper that meticulously stalked whumpee before kidnapping them OR whumper that saw a random person they liked and grabbed them on the fly // “stubborn and silent” whumpee turned crying and begging OR feisty talkative whumpee turned broken and mute // whumper that explains to whumpee in great detail why they took and are torturing them OR whumper that refuses to tell whumpee anything no matter how much they beg // whumpee that is constantly physically restrained OR whumpee with their limbs free and a shock collar // innocent whumpee that is desperately trying to find an answer to “why me” OR guilty whumpee still trying to run from their past // whumper turned into ex-whumpee’s whumpee and accepts the punishment out of guilt OR whumper turned caretaker for the ex-whumpee out of guilt
this or that — whump edition
tried my hand at making a whump game (mostly based around my own tastes) except the choices accidentally get progressively more and more specific :P
feel free to reblog with your own opinions in bold/color and/or tag anyone else to play!
nonhuman whumper OR nonhuman whumpee // blood and gore OR mindbreak // chained up tightly in the basement OR kept in a cage // whumpee that is terrified of death OR whumpee that begs for it // bad ending (whumpee stays trapped forever) OR good ending (escape + recovery arc) // non-con touching OR starving whumpee of physical contact // whumper that meticulously stalked whumpee before kidnapping them OR whumper that saw a random person they liked and grabbed them on the fly // “stubborn and silent” whumpee turned crying and begging OR feisty talkative whumpee turned broken and mute // whumper that explains to whumpee in great detail why they took and are torturing them OR whumper that refuses to tell whumpee anything no matter how much they beg // whumpee that is constantly physically restrained OR whumpee with their limbs free and a shock collar // innocent whumpee that is desperately trying to find an answer to “why me” OR guilty whumpee still trying to run from their past // whumper turned into ex-whumpee’s whumpee and accepts the punishment out of guilt OR whumper turned caretaker for the ex-whumpee out of guilt
hope you enjoyed <3
Bad Little Bird
Content: TW Blood, Fear, Unwanted Touches, Captive, Caught Escaping, Sadistic Whumper, Mention of Wing Removal, Threats of Pain and Death, Pet Names.
+++
“Tsk tsk tsk… and here I thought you had learned to be a good little bird.”
Whumpees skin crawled hearing his tormentors voice behind them. They had just gone through the agonizing process of climbing up the stairs from the basement. Each step covered in sharp nails that pierced their feet with every step. The bloody steps leaving a trail behind them like breadcrumbs. The rawly torn flesh on their wrists and ankles reflecting the painful escape from their bindings. The dried blood staining their back from their one, beautiful wing having been sawed off a day or so ago. It was hard to say how long it had been when they were stuck in the darkness for so long.
A chill goes up their spine when they feel Whumpers breath brush down their neck. Their still intact wing wrapping around themselves instinctively for protection from the nightmare behind them. If only it was just a nightmare.
“Now, now. What have I said about not looking at me when I’m talking to you, hm?”
Whumpee swallowed the lump in their throat, their breath slightly shaky as they hesitantly turned their body slowly to face Whumper. Seeing his piercing red eyes looking down at him with disappointment, but his smile showed a sadistic pleasure in Whumpees fear.
Whumper hummed softly as his hand raised up to Whumpees wing, lightly dancing his fingers along the bend. The noticeable flinch making him grin wider as he loomed over the shorter man.
“It would be a shame if I had to take your last wing, wouldn’t it? Then you wouldn’t be my little birdie anymore. Do you know what I do with birds that lose both of their wings?”
Whumpee could feel a plea trying to claw out from his throat, but he knew better than to let it out. The tears couldn’t be stopped though. The fear pushing them out as they pricked at the corner of his eyes.
Whumpees head whipped to the side from the harsh slap to his left cheek. Stunning him and making his stance stagger as he held his cheek with my hand. His wing quivering around him. Whumper grabbing their chin roughly and forcing Whumpees gaze up to theirs once again. Their smile gone, and Whumpee could’ve sworn Whumpers eyes were glowing with a cold glare.
“I snap their necks and put them out of their misery.”
+++
Date: March 12, 2024
I’m alive I promise 🪻
What The Tide Brought In
[Next] — {Masterlist}
Contents: TW Restraints, TW Choking/ Strangling, TW Venomous Injury, TW Threats, Siren Whump, Pirate Whump, Sadistic Whumper, Defiant/ Stoic Whumpee
+++
“Captain, we’re going to need to make a port stop sooner than we expected. Our food supply is a little low.”
Looking off towards the distance of the endless sea, Malik was leaning against the wooden railing along the side of the vast ship. A deep internal sigh escaping him from the calmness of the morning. The waves were docile today, clear skies, and perfect winds. Glancing over his shoulder to acknowledge his first mate, Jovey. His signature side smirk that was as charming as ever.
“Means the lads are all eating well. Maybe too well, but we’ll tackle that later.” The deep rumble in his chest resonates through his chuckle, coming out a bit course from the early morning air. “Set a course for Port Royal, should be the nearest one to us.”
Rising from his hunched position, his arms reach to the amber sky and soft huff escapes him. It had been a long month on the waters of the Atlantic, but shifting to the warmer tides of the Caribbean always reminded him where home was. It wouldn’t be more than a day now when he’d be able to collapse in a bed that doesn’t sway with the waves, in a warm tavern with a bottle of rum all to himself, and a bowl of stew from anything that wasn’t pescado. Possibly partaking in a little stealing, sabotaging, or cheating just to pass the time. Not having to be a captain for at least a week was a break he couldn’t wait for. The crew he inherited only knew how to follow orders when his voice was harsh as the winds, otherwise they’d slack off or get too comfortable. Not that he minded putting them in their place, it boosted his ego and there was a satisfaction in seeing the yielding in their eyes as they adjusted their tone and fixed their posture. Intimidation and strength. The qualities he believed was required of a captain, especially one as successful as he was.
Unfortunately for him, because of his imposing presence on both the waters and the shores, it was now a rare occurrence for his ship to be attempted to be commandeered or attacked by other occupants of the sea. Even on land, most steered clear of him or were careful with their words. It made his exhibitions boring to say the least, no challenges, no competition. There hasn't even been ruthless storms as of late, the type to make experienced sailors soil themselves, the ones that threaten to sink you with your ship until you come out victorious. Even now as he turns to grip the wheel in his hands and his eyes scan the deck a flight below him where his men work, he doesn’t feel that thrill of adventure that used to drive him. He didn’t know if he would anytime soon with his reputation being as strong as it is.
His luck was akin to that of being at the mercy of a coin toss at times, whether today was a virtuous luck sent by the gods or a vicious one, he couldn’t care when his wishes were granted. Of course they were, he always got everything he wanted eventually.
“Captain! We caught something!”
His heads whips over towards port side, his men hoisting up large net that swung and twisted violently. Setting Jovey to steady the wheel, he quickly glides down the railing of the stairs before hopping to his feet on the deck. Trotting over to the commotion as his crew surround the catch. They part away to forge a path for him as he approaches and what he see’s makes his whole world light up in flurry of excitement. A siren.
“Captain... is that the creature from the legends?”
Malik can’t help but let out a hearty laugh, not just at the question, but also out of astonishment at his luck. His eyes glued to the young male siren thrashing about in the thick rope, hissing and growling like a wild animal.
“That’s right lads! Look what the tide brought us, a siren from the tales of the sea.”
He gets down on one knee beside the tangled fishy creature. The strong scent of seawater mixed with an all too familiar rotten fish odor. Reaching down to grab the main rope line and tugging on it, the net tightens around the specimen and constricts its movements. A protesting growl leaving the siren as it glares through the rope straight at him. He can’t help grin a little maddeningly. Realizing just how amazing this turn of events was. Seeing this sirens unwavering aggression and defiance even from only being on board a few minutes sparked a fire in Malik.
“You’re far from home, aren’t you bilge rat? These aren't your waters.”
The siren, seemingly frantic and panicked from its predicament squirms in the net. Its tail thudding against the boards of the deck. Maliks chuckles overpowering the sirens protesting sounds. The crew that surrounded them watching in a mix of curiosity and caution. Taking the time to admire such rare creature in their waters. Its contrasting palette of blue hues and white accents. His finned tail pointed at the ends, three appendages along each side of his fish body with cerata extended out from each. His upper body resembling that of a normal young man, but scattered with a light blue vitiligo-esque pattern along his skin. Medium length dark blue hair damp and cascading over his shoulders. His fingers pointed like claws and his fangs baring. And those, oh so, captivating golden eyes.
“Alright lads, quit gawking. Why don’t we make our guest more... comfortable?”
Malik stands up as his crew get to work, knowing the protocol underlining his words. A few of the men dragging the siren towards the largest mast in the middle of the top deck. When they start to extract him from the net, he proves to be nothing if not aggressive and hostile. Using his sharpened nails to dig into the crews arms and legs, making them bleed. Biting hands and forearms when they try to lift him up. It took 5 sizable men just to get him up off the floor, but nobody was ready when one of the men got hit with one of the large appendages flapping around erratically through his struggle. The man stumbling back and falling down onto the wooden boards with a hard thud as he grips his chest. The crew managing to tie the siren up against the mast and restrain him. Everyone turns to look to their crew mate on the floor, struggling to breath. Malik rushes to his side and crouches down, inspecting the man and tugging his shirt down to see a hue of red amongst the inflammation quickly building on his chest.
“Hey… hey, lad, keep your eyes on me, alright? You better fucking stay awake, you hear me?”
Malik slapping the mans cheek a few times to keep his attention when he notices his eyes lolling around with no intention. He looked sick, almost nauseous. His hands clawing at his own chest as if there was a pain that he fruitlessly attempted to dig out of himself. Malik having to grab the mans hands to keep him from hurting himself.
“Get this boy below deck! Don’t let him fall asleep and keep a bucket near in case he vomits.” When his crew just stare at the both of them with nervous and distant expressions after what they witnessed, Malik let go of the mans hands and stood up with a threatening posture. “NOW!” That woke the crew from their paralysis as they quickly made their way to the injured man and helped carry him below deck to be treated and supervised.
Malik turning towards the mast where the siren was left restrained and desperately fighting at the thick rope. His hands clenching at his sides, a fury in his eyes that would make most crumble at his feet. He walks over to the creature with steady strides until he’s standing before him. The siren glaring right back up at him, a smirk twitching onto his face, expressing his satisfaction.
“Whoops, sorry cap. Didn’t realize how weak your me—”
The siren chokes on his words as Maliks hand wraps completely around his throat. An iron grip, unyielding as he leans down closer to the sirens face. A cold fury brewing behind his gaze while the creature flails and gasps for air. His tail beating against the mast frantically.
“If you dare to speak another word with that vile tongue fo yours, I will personally slice it out and force it down your throat. If that’s not enough to shut you up, I’ll cut off that tail of yours and feed you to the sharks. Got it, caviar?”
His voice was almost hushed, but didn’t lack the venom behind every word. Naturally making the siren tense as his glare falters from the combined threat and lack of oxygen. Maliks hand tightening around his neck hard enough to cause him to see stars and he reluctantly relented with a subtle nod. Enough for the hand to quickly retract and allow him to cough violently and heave for air. Maliks foreboding stance towering the fish creature while he watched with a sense of triumph that blossomed into pride as his grin plastered onto his face one more. For the first time in a long time, Malik found a thrill, something that made his heart race, something that made him tick. This siren, who had just backed down not even a few seconds ago, now scowling at him with a passion that was contagious.
“You have no idea how long I’ve waited for something like you to come along, little sea dragon.”
+++
Date: September 16, 2024
What The Tide Brought In
[Next]
Contents: TW Restraints, TW Choking/ Strangling, TW Venomous Injury, TW Threats, Siren Whump, Pirate Whump, Sadistic Whumper, Defiant/ Stoic Whumpee
+++
“Captain, we’re going to need to make a port stop sooner than we expected. Our food supply is a little low.”
Looking off towards the distance of the endless sea, Malik was leaning against the wooden railing along the side of the vast ship. A deep internal sigh escaping him from the calmness of the morning. The waves were docile today, clear skies, and perfect winds. Glancing over his shoulder to acknowledge his first mate, Jovey. His signature side smirk that was as charming as ever.
“Means the lads are all eating well. Maybe too well, but we’ll tackle that later.” The deep rumble in his chest resonates through his chuckle, coming out a bit course from the early morning air. “Set a course for Port Royal, should be the nearest one to us.”
Rising from his hunched position, his arms reach to the amber sky and soft huff escapes him. It had been a long month on the waters of the Atlantic, but shifting to the warmer tides of the Caribbean always reminded him where home was. It wouldn’t be more than a day now when he’d be able to collapse in a bed that doesn’t sway with the waves, in a warm tavern with a bottle of rum all to himself, and a bowl of stew from anything that wasn’t pescado. Possibly partaking in a little stealing, sabotaging, or cheating just to pass the time. Not having to be a captain for at least a week was a break he couldn’t wait for. The crew he inherited only knew how to follow orders when his voice was harsh as the winds, otherwise they’d slack off or get too comfortable. Not that he minded putting them in their place, it boosted his ego and there was a satisfaction in seeing the yielding in their eyes as they adjusted their tone and fixed their posture. Intimidation and strength. The qualities he believed was required of a captain, especially one as successful as he was.
Unfortunately for him, because of his imposing presence on both the waters and the shores, it was now a rare occurrence for his ship to be attempted to be commandeered or attacked by other occupants of the sea. Even on land, most steered clear of him or were careful with their words. It made his exhibitions boring to say the least, no challenges, no competition. There hasn't even been ruthless storms as of late, the type to make experienced sailors soil themselves, the ones that threaten to sink you with your ship until you come out victorious. Even now as he turns to grip the wheel in his hands and his eyes scan the deck a flight below him where his men work, he doesn’t feel that thrill of adventure that used to drive him. He didn’t know if he would anytime soon with his reputation being as strong as it is.
His luck was akin to that of being at the mercy of a coin toss at times, whether today was a virtuous luck sent by the gods or a vicious one, he couldn’t care when his wishes were granted. Of course they were, he always got everything he wanted eventually.
“Captain! We caught something!”
His heads whips over towards port side, his men hoisting up large net that swung and twisted violently. Setting Jovey to steady the wheel, he quickly glides down the railing of the stairs before hopping to his feet on the deck. Trotting over to the commotion as his crew surround the catch. They part away to forge a path for him as he approaches and what he see’s makes his whole world light up in flurry of excitement. A siren.
“Captain... is that the creature from the legends?”
Malik can’t help but let out a hearty laugh, not just at the question, but also out of astonishment at his luck. His eyes glued to the young male siren thrashing about in the thick rope, hissing and growling like a wild animal.
“That’s right lads! Look what the tide brought us, a siren from the tales of the sea.”
He gets down on one knee beside the tangled fishy creature. The strong scent of seawater mixed with an all too familiar rotten fish odor. Reaching down to grab the main rope line and tugging on it, the net tightens around the specimen and constricts its movements. A protesting growl leaving the siren as it glares through the rope straight at him. He can’t help grin a little maddeningly. Realizing just how amazing this turn of events was. Seeing this sirens unwavering aggression and defiance even from only being on board a few minutes sparked a fire in Malik.
“You’re far from home, aren’t you bilge rat? These aren't your waters.”
The siren, seemingly frantic and panicked from its predicament squirms in the net. Its tail thudding against the boards of the deck. Maliks chuckles overpowering the sirens protesting sounds. The crew that surrounded them watching in a mix of curiosity and caution. Taking the time to admire such rare creature in their waters. Its contrasting palette of blue hues and white accents. His finned tail pointed at the ends, three appendages along each side of his fish body with cerata extended out from each. His upper body resembling that of a normal young man, but scattered with a light blue vitiligo-esque pattern along his skin. Medium length dark blue hair damp and cascading over his shoulders. His fingers pointed like claws and his fangs baring. And those, oh so, captivating golden eyes.
“Alright lads, quit gawking. Why don’t we make our guest more... comfortable?”
Malik stands up as his crew get to work, knowing the protocol underlining his words. A few of the men dragging the siren towards the largest mast in the middle of the top deck. When they start to extract him from the net, he proves to be nothing if not aggressive and hostile. Using his sharpened nails to dig into the crews arms and legs, making them bleed. Biting hands and forearms when they try to lift him up. It took 5 sizable men just to get him up off the floor, but nobody was ready when one of the men got hit with one of the large appendages flapping around erratically through his struggle. The man stumbling back and falling down onto the wooden boards with a hard thud as he grips his chest. The crew managing to tie the siren up against the mast and restrain him. Everyone turns to look to their crew mate on the floor, struggling to breath. Malik rushes to his side and crouches down, inspecting the man and tugging his shirt down to see a hue of red amongst the inflammation quickly building on his chest.
“Hey… hey, lad, keep your eyes on me, alright? You better fucking stay awake, you hear me?”
Malik slapping the mans cheek a few times to keep his attention when he notices his eyes lolling around with no intention. He looked sick, almost nauseous. His hands clawing at his own chest as if there was a pain that he fruitlessly attempted to dig out of himself. Malik having to grab the mans hands to keep him from hurting himself.
“Get this boy below deck! Don’t let him fall asleep and keep a bucket near in case he vomits.” When his crew just stare at the both of them with nervous and distant expressions after what they witnessed, Malik let go of the mans hands and stood up with a threatening posture. “NOW!” That woke the crew from their paralysis as they quickly made their way to the injured man and helped carry him below deck to be treated and supervised.
Malik turning towards the mast where the siren was left restrained and desperately fighting at the thick rope. His hands clenching at his sides, a fury in his eyes that would make most crumble at his feet. He walks over to the creature with steady strides until he’s standing before him. The siren glaring right back up at him, a smirk twitching onto his face, expressing his satisfaction.
“Whoops, sorry cap. Didn’t realize how weak your me—”
The siren chokes on his words as Maliks hand wraps completely around his throat. An iron grip, unyielding as he leans down closer to the sirens face. A cold fury brewing behind his gaze while the creature flails and gasps for air. His tail beating against the mast frantically.
“If you dare to speak another word with that vile tongue fo yours, I will personally slice it out and force it down your throat. If that’s not enough to shut you up, I’ll cut off that tail of yours and feed you to the sharks. Got it, caviar?”
His voice was almost hushed, but didn’t lack the venom behind every word. Naturally making the siren tense as his glare falters from the combined threat and lack of oxygen. Maliks hand tightening around his neck hard enough to cause him to see stars and he reluctantly relented with a subtle nod. Enough for the hand to quickly retract and allow him to cough violently and heave for air. Maliks foreboding stance towering the fish creature while he watched with a sense of triumph that blossomed into pride as his grin plastered onto his face one more. For the first time in a long time, Malik found a thrill, something that made his heart race, something that made him tick. This siren, who had just backed down not even a few seconds ago, now scowling at him with a passion that was contagious.
“You have no idea how long I’ve waited for something like you to come along, little sea dragon.”
+++
Date: September 16, 2024
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.
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.