I'm a fan of double-meanings in whump dialogue--especially if the phrase can be said by caretaker and whumper.
"Put down the gun." - caretaker soothing a defensive living weapon whumpee / whumper thwarting caretaker's rescue attempt
"Shhhh." - a parent caretaker consoling a young whumpee after nightmares / whumper gagging a crying whumpee
"Oh my god, you're bleeding!" - caretaker upon discovering a stoic whumpee's hidden wounds / a sadistic whumper mocking whumpee after a brutal torture session
Have Whumper cut Whumpee's hair. It's terrifying, especially if Whumper has cut Whumpee before. They can hold the scissors agaisnt Whumpee's throat in the same spot where they usually hold the knife. They can joke around about nipping an ear. Whumpee can flinch at the sound of the scissors. They can tremble, having a hard time holding still. Whumper can roughly pull their head in different positions for the cut. And for Whumpee there is yet another thing they lost control over: their appearance.
Whumpee tied up with their arms in front of them. Not high enough that they need to stand, not necessarily cruel or uncomfortable, but they have to stay seated. Can't lie down and curl up.
Whumpee being exhausted, scared, in pain, cold- everything is just too much.
Them leaning their head against the wall and closing their eyes, face contorting with a painful grimace as they just want this to stop.
Red is for posted, white is for requested/planned/written, feel free to send requests!
Marcus and Jake are finally safe from AMTEC - although their escape nearly cost them both their lives. Now they are free to heal and discover what they might be to each other - and they learn that AMTECâs influence leaves not a single person in their lives untouched.
AO3
Masterlist
This is a sequel series to Beneath Gunmetal Skies. Start here, continued from here.
Contents: chronic pain, prosthetic, past noncon, recovery, PTSD, flashbacks, past cigar burn, scars, trauma reveal, fucky thoughts about noncon, Celeste's past revealed, past abusive parent, past transphobic parent, past self-harm (to escape parent and military service), ableist institution, reclaimed transphobic slur, medical poverty, nsfwhump
~
The arm was fucking annoying today. It didnât hurt â Marcus had been beaten, stabbed, shot, and fucked by half the base by the time he was twenty-five years old, so this didnât even come close â but it was a constant, nagging throb that began at his metal fingertips and radiated all the way up his arm, into the shoulder where the arm plugged in, and past that. Even the muscles that ran between his neck and shoulder hurt â only they didnât hurt; heâd felt pain before, and this wasnât pain. This was just⊠an ache. And it wasnât bad. He could handle it. It was fine.
Working took his mind off things, and that was good. Being around Jake helped, too. And being around⊠other people. Normal people. Being around them, having them be okay with being around him⊠it was all good. It all helped. It all helped him feel like a person.
It made him feel more normal than the weird, anxious-ass guy who followed Lars around like a puppy all day, that was for fucking sure. Tobias. Wouldnât last one goddamn week as a Lev, Marcus thought darkly.
No one should have to last a week as a Lev, came a thought on that oneâs heels. That thought sounded and felt more like Jake. Marcus was okay with Jake living in his head. The thoughts that mind-Jake came up with were usually nicer than Marcusâs own thoughts, so he almost looked forward to the times they would pop up unannounced.
âHey, um, Marcus?â came a hesitant voice from the doorway of the room Marcus was deep cleaning with a cloth and toothbrush, breaking his reverie.
Speaking of popping up unannounced.
âYeah, Tobias,â Marcus said flatly, tilting his head so he could see the kid in his peripherals.
Tobias laced his fingers together in front of himself. âUm⊠Celeste said she had something for you at the front desk. For you or, um, Jake. But Jakeâs giving someone an injection right now, so I just figured Iâdââ
âYeah, sounds good,â Marcus said, pushing himself from his hands and knees to his feet. He towered over Tobias once he was upright. The kid stepped backward into the hall to let him pass, and Marcus shouldered his way toward the front desk.
Celeste glanced up at him as he approached, then reached under the desk to hand him a white paper bag. âYour boyâs next dose came in,â she said as she handed the package out to him.
Marcus tore the bag open and fumbled with the orange pill bottle inside. âNext dose ofâŠâ He trailed off as he read the name on the bottle. A trickle of icy cold ran down the back of his neck.
Quinton, Robert.
âPEP,â Celeste said, waving her hand dismissively at the bottle.
Marcus stared at the bottle in his hand, reading the name over and over again. Quinton, Robert. He could see the name tag in his mind: white stamped into black, shiny and perfectly straight on a forest green uniform.
Robert            Quinton
Colonel           AMTEC
He could see the nametag on the jacket after it had been taken off and laid across the desk. He could see it close to his face as he was bent over that desk, a hand on the back of his neck to keep him down as he was spread apart and fucked.
He felt the scar on his hip flare to life, as if the lit cigar had been pressed there all over again.
He raised his gaze to Celeste, only too aware that he had frozen in front of her. âWh-whose meds are these?â he managed through numb lips.
âOh, theyâre Jakeâs,â she said distractedly as she adjusted her chair. âI just put them in under my dadâs name as a fuck you toââ
Marcus let out a choked sound. âYour dad.â
At that, Celeste looked up at him. She must have seen something in Marcusâs face, because her eyes went wide. âYeah,â she said slowly. âWhyâŠ?â
âOh, fuck,â Marcus breathed. âYour⊠dad⊠And is he⊠AMTEC?â
âYeah, a fuckinâ colonel or something, last time I heard,â Celeste snapped. âWhy, are youâŠâ She took a breath. âFuck, Marcus, are you okay?â
He nodded automatically. âYes. Yes, Iâm fine. Iâll⊠take these to Jake, andââ
âWait,â Celeste whispered. âDid he⊠Did you know him?â
Gritting his teeth, grinding his forehead against the desk. One hand squeezing into a fist as his arm was pulled behind his back â not that he would have fought, not the colonel.
Not that he would have fought a fucking corporal. No one would have batted an eye at any of the enlisted or officers using him, as long as they didnât damage him. By the time the colonel got to him, heâd already been so run through, it was practically expected. So he just squeezed his eyes shut and pressed his lips together against the sick motion into him, the pain â that was pain â the horrible humiliation of having his pants around his ankles and his ass out for fucking.
Robert Quinton. He wasnât even the worst, even with the cigar burn. Heâd only fucked him two or three times, hadnât even smacked Marcus around beforehand.
Celeste had asked him a question. Did you know him? âYeah,â Marcus croaked.
She was watching him. There was no one else in the lobby, he realized belatedly, and for that he was profoundly grateful.
âFucked you up, huh?â Celeste said.
Marcus just nodded again. He would have agreed to anything she said, really. He couldnât feel his fingers. The pill bottle in his hand rattled. He nearly dropped it.
âYeah, well.â She twisted her back in her chair. âWelcome to the fuckinâ club.â
He looked at her. ââŠwhat?â
She kept her eyes down, uncharacteristically shy all of a sudden. âWhat is there to tell? He was trying to make me go into the AMTEC officer academy. Made me get the senator letters, submit my high school transcript, everything. I was set to go. I told him I didnât want to, but he wouldnât hear it. Something about âmaking me a real manâ or some bullshit like that. He threatened to cut me off if I didnât go. He owned my phone, my car, read my messages, tracked me everywhereâŠâ She shrugged. âSo the night before I was supposed to ship out, I fell down the stairs.â
Marcus blinked. âYou⊠fell?â
âI fell.â She traced her finger along her wrist.
Along a scar at her wrist. A surgical scar.
âOh,â Marcus breathed.
Celeste let out a bitter laugh. âAMTEC is very strict about who they let in. Or at least, who they let be an officer. Theyâll let anyone join their fuckinâ city goon squad, but for the upper echelon, they have this, like⊠hundred-point physical you have to pass. You canât have any âphysical or mental defectsâ. At least when youâre a cadet.â
âI know,â Marcus said softly. âLevs have the same requirements.â
âRight.â She let out a bitter laugh. âWhen I fell, I broke my back, and fucked up my wrist pretty bad. I can do a desk job, but they wonât let anyone in whoâs only cut out for that. Something about⊠battle readiness or some stupid shit like that. Plus, they donât let trannies in at all now.â She snorted. âDad wouldnât pay any of my medical bills and kicked me off his insurance. Had to rely on the fuckinâ poor people shit, and that covers pretty much nothing. Ended up on a friendâs couch begging for mutual aid online. Thatâs how I met Lars, actually.â
Marcus didnât say anything. The bottle was heating up in his hand.
âThey saw my posts and let me crash on their couch, taught me some PT that actually helped a lot. They helped get me the job at the lab I work at now. And then when they started this place, I obviously had to help. So. Long story short, I guess, fuck that guy.â She pointed at the medicine bottle clutched in Marcusâs hand.
Marcus wet his lips. âI didnât know,â he said. âIâm sorry.â
âI didnât tell you, so, itâs fine.â She didnât meet his eyes. âI, um. I didnât know, either. Heâs kind of a monster, but it sucks finding out he was a monster to⊠someone else, too. Not surprising. Just shitty.â
Hearing the older man grunt as he pounded into Marcus, hearing their bodies slap against each other, hearing the colonelâs belt buckle jingle with each thrust, all while Marcus takes it in perfect silence. Heâs been trained to handle pain. He can take far more than this without screaming.
âY-yeah,â Marcus breathed. âYeah, itâs⊠shitty.â He turned to go.
âIâll see if I can get the scrip under a new name,â Celeste said to his back. âSince⊠Iâll see if I can do that.â
He swallowed the dryness in his throat. âThank you, Celeste,â he said, and she buzzed him back through the door. Once he was alone again, he peeled the label off the bottle and tucked it back into the torn white paper bag.
If you want to be on the taglist (including for the spicy chapters,) let me know! I only tag people in 18+ chapters if I know they are adults through conversations or if their age/age range is in their bio.
heâd felt pain before, and this wasnât pain. This was just⊠an ache. And it wasnât bad. He could handle it. It was fine.
mhm. we'll see how long that actualy lasts.
The thoughts that mind-Jake came up with were usually nicer than Marcusâs own thoughts, so he almost looked forward to the times they would pop up unannounced.
aww hes trying to be nice to himself <3
Marcus was deep cleaning with a cloth and toothbrush,
boi that better not just be your standard cleaning rollout. you better be cleaning something small and delicate needing the fine bristles of a toothbrush and Not you not realizing there are better cleaning brushes now that youre a person hey come back here-
âYour boyâs next dose came in,â
aww your boy <3
But Jakeâs giving someone an injection right now, so I just figured Iâdââ
jake getting medical training đ
He could see the name tag in his mind: white stamped into black, shiny and perfectly straight on a forest green uniform.
oh no
He could see it close to his face as he was bent over that desk, a hand on the back of his neck to keep him down as he was spread apart and fucked.
rip marcus.
not that he would have fought, not the colonel. Not that he would have fought a fucking corporal.
just all the way to the top huh
âI know,â Marcus said softly. âLevs have the same requirements.â
hm thats an interesting thing to say if she doesnt already know, and I'm guessing she doesnt based on how shes explaining things. Im sure she wont replay this conversation in her head later and also think that was an interesting thing for you to say, obviously ex amtec guy having this kind of reaction about an officer and the revealed connection. I'm sure that sound behind me isnt checkov loading another bullet into his gun.
hm thats an interesting thing to say if she doesnt already know, and I'm guessing she doesnt based on how shes explaining things. Im sure she wont replay this conversation in her head later and also think that was an interesting thing for you to say, obviously ex amtec guy having this kind of reaction about an officer and the revealed connection. I'm sure that sound behind me isnt checkov loading another bullet into his gun.
*shoves a comically large rifle down the back of my pants* I DON'T KNOW WHAT YOU MEAN I DEFINITELY HAVEN'T BEEN SEEDING HINTS ABOUT WHO IS WHAT AND WHO DOES WHAT THROUGH THIS ENTIRE BOOK đđđ
I DEFINITELY DON'T KISS CHEKHOV ON HIS LITTLE RUSSIAN FOREHEAD EVERY NIGHT BEFORE BED OR ANYTHINGGGGG
Red is for posted, white is for requested/planned/written, feel free to send requests!
Marcus and Jake are finally safe from AMTEC - although their escape nearly cost them both their lives. Now they are free to heal and discover what they might be to each other - and they learn that AMTECâs influence leaves not a single person in their lives untouched.
AO3
Masterlist
This is a sequel series to Beneath Gunmetal Skies. Start here, continued from here.
Contents: chronic pain, prosthetic, past noncon, recovery, PTSD, flashbacks, past cigar burn, scars, trauma reveal, fucky thoughts about noncon, Celeste's past revealed, past abusive parent, past transphobic parent, past self-harm (to escape parent and military service), ableist institution, reclaimed transphobic slur, medical poverty, nsfwhump
~
The arm was fucking annoying today. It didnât hurt â Marcus had been beaten, stabbed, shot, and fucked by half the base by the time he was twenty-five years old, so this didnât even come close â but it was a constant, nagging throb that began at his metal fingertips and radiated all the way up his arm, into the shoulder where the arm plugged in, and past that. Even the muscles that ran between his neck and shoulder hurt â only they didnât hurt; heâd felt pain before, and this wasnât pain. This was just⊠an ache. And it wasnât bad. He could handle it. It was fine.
Working took his mind off things, and that was good. Being around Jake helped, too. And being around⊠other people. Normal people. Being around them, having them be okay with being around him⊠it was all good. It all helped. It all helped him feel like a person.
It made him feel more normal than the weird, anxious-ass guy who followed Lars around like a puppy all day, that was for fucking sure. Tobias. Wouldnât last one goddamn week as a Lev, Marcus thought darkly.
No one should have to last a week as a Lev, came a thought on that oneâs heels. That thought sounded and felt more like Jake. Marcus was okay with Jake living in his head. The thoughts that mind-Jake came up with were usually nicer than Marcusâs own thoughts, so he almost looked forward to the times they would pop up unannounced.
âHey, um, Marcus?â came a hesitant voice from the doorway of the room Marcus was deep cleaning with a cloth and toothbrush, breaking his reverie.
Speaking of popping up unannounced.
âYeah, Tobias,â Marcus said flatly, tilting his head so he could see the kid in his peripherals.
Tobias laced his fingers together in front of himself. âUm⊠Celeste said she had something for you at the front desk. For you or, um, Jake. But Jakeâs giving someone an injection right now, so I just figured Iâdââ
âYeah, sounds good,â Marcus said, pushing himself from his hands and knees to his feet. He towered over Tobias once he was upright. The kid stepped backward into the hall to let him pass, and Marcus shouldered his way toward the front desk.
Celeste glanced up at him as he approached, then reached under the desk to hand him a white paper bag. âYour boyâs next dose came in,â she said as she handed the package out to him.
Marcus tore the bag open and fumbled with the orange pill bottle inside. âNext dose ofâŠâ He trailed off as he read the name on the bottle. A trickle of icy cold ran down the back of his neck.
Quinton, Robert.
âPEP,â Celeste said, waving her hand dismissively at the bottle.
Marcus stared at the bottle in his hand, reading the name over and over again. Quinton, Robert. He could see the name tag in his mind: white stamped into black, shiny and perfectly straight on a forest green uniform.
Robert            Quinton
Colonel           AMTEC
He could see the nametag on the jacket after it had been taken off and laid across the desk. He could see it close to his face as he was bent over that desk, a hand on the back of his neck to keep him down as he was spread apart and fucked.
He felt the scar on his hip flare to life, as if the lit cigar had been pressed there all over again.
He raised his gaze to Celeste, only too aware that he had frozen in front of her. âWh-whose meds are these?â he managed through numb lips.
âOh, theyâre Jakeâs,â she said distractedly as she adjusted her chair. âI just put them in under my dadâs name as a fuck you toââ
Marcus let out a choked sound. âYour dad.â
At that, Celeste looked up at him. She must have seen something in Marcusâs face, because her eyes went wide. âYeah,â she said slowly. âWhyâŠ?â
âOh, fuck,â Marcus breathed. âYour⊠dad⊠And is he⊠AMTEC?â
âYeah, a fuckinâ colonel or something, last time I heard,â Celeste snapped. âWhy, are youâŠâ She took a breath. âFuck, Marcus, are you okay?â
He nodded automatically. âYes. Yes, Iâm fine. Iâll⊠take these to Jake, andââ
âWait,â Celeste whispered. âDid he⊠Did you know him?â
Gritting his teeth, grinding his forehead against the desk. One hand squeezing into a fist as his arm was pulled behind his back â not that he would have fought, not the colonel.
Not that he would have fought a fucking corporal. No one would have batted an eye at any of the enlisted or officers using him, as long as they didnât damage him. By the time the colonel got to him, heâd already been so run through, it was practically expected. So he just squeezed his eyes shut and pressed his lips together against the sick motion into him, the pain â that was pain â the horrible humiliation of having his pants around his ankles and his ass out for fucking.
Robert Quinton. He wasnât even the worst, even with the cigar burn. Heâd only fucked him two or three times, hadnât even smacked Marcus around beforehand.
Celeste had asked him a question. Did you know him? âYeah,â Marcus croaked.
She was watching him. There was no one else in the lobby, he realized belatedly, and for that he was profoundly grateful.
âFucked you up, huh?â Celeste said.
Marcus just nodded again. He would have agreed to anything she said, really. He couldnât feel his fingers. The pill bottle in his hand rattled. He nearly dropped it.
âYeah, well.â She twisted her back in her chair. âWelcome to the fuckinâ club.â
He looked at her. ââŠwhat?â
She kept her eyes down, uncharacteristically shy all of a sudden. âWhat is there to tell? He was trying to make me go into the AMTEC officer academy. Made me get the senator letters, submit my high school transcript, everything. I was set to go. I told him I didnât want to, but he wouldnât hear it. Something about âmaking me a real manâ or some bullshit like that. He threatened to cut me off if I didnât go. He owned my phone, my car, read my messages, tracked me everywhereâŠâ She shrugged. âSo the night before I was supposed to ship out, I fell down the stairs.â
Marcus blinked. âYou⊠fell?â
âI fell.â She traced her finger along her wrist.
Along a scar at her wrist. A surgical scar.
âOh,â Marcus breathed.
Celeste let out a bitter laugh. âAMTEC is very strict about who they let in. Or at least, who they let be an officer. Theyâll let anyone join their fuckinâ city goon squad, but for the upper echelon, they have this, like⊠hundred-point physical you have to pass. You canât have any âphysical or mental defectsâ. At least when youâre a cadet.â
âI know,â Marcus said softly. âLevs have the same requirements.â
âRight.â She let out a bitter laugh. âWhen I fell, I broke my back, and fucked up my wrist pretty bad. I can do a desk job, but they wonât let anyone in whoâs only cut out for that. Something about⊠battle readiness or some stupid shit like that. Plus, they donât let trannies in at all now.â She snorted. âDad wouldnât pay any of my medical bills and kicked me off his insurance. Had to rely on the fuckinâ poor people shit, and that covers pretty much nothing. Ended up on a friendâs couch begging for mutual aid online. Thatâs how I met Lars, actually.â
Marcus didnât say anything. The bottle was heating up in his hand.
âThey saw my posts and let me crash on their couch, taught me some PT that actually helped a lot. They helped get me the job at the lab I work at now. And then when they started this place, I obviously had to help. So. Long story short, I guess, fuck that guy.â She pointed at the medicine bottle clutched in Marcusâs hand.
Marcus wet his lips. âI didnât know,â he said. âIâm sorry.â
âI didnât tell you, so, itâs fine.â She didnât meet his eyes. âI, um. I didnât know, either. Heâs kind of a monster, but it sucks finding out he was a monster to⊠someone else, too. Not surprising. Just shitty.â
Hearing the older man grunt as he pounded into Marcus, hearing their bodies slap against each other, hearing the colonelâs belt buckle jingle with each thrust, all while Marcus takes it in perfect silence. Heâs been trained to handle pain. He can take far more than this without screaming.
âY-yeah,â Marcus breathed. âYeah, itâs⊠shitty.â He turned to go.
âIâll see if I can get the scrip under a new name,â Celeste said to his back. âSince⊠Iâll see if I can do that.â
He swallowed the dryness in his throat. âThank you, Celeste,â he said, and she buzzed him back through the door. Once he was alone again, he peeled the label off the bottle and tucked it back into the torn white paper bag.
If you want to be on the taglist (including for the spicy chapters,) let me know! I only tag people in 18+ chapters if I know they are adults through conversations or if their age/age range is in their bio.
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