Prisoner of war being brutally interrogated for information by an enemy?
Sorry this took me foreverr, for some reason I have been writing excruciatingly slow lately. I decided to use my oc Sasha for this, so it's not exactly a prisoner of war but similar (also this is non-canon and I did some world building in here that might change eventually). Anyways, hope you enjoyy.
CW: Nonhuman whumpee (demon), captured, interrogation, torture, defiant whumpee, no holds barred, hair/horn grabbing, manhandling, blood, strangulation, whipping, brass knuckles, broken nose, dislocated shoulder, restraints, hammer to the knees & horn, small emeto mention
Where he stands in the dark room, the only thing to accompany the demon is the sound of rattling chains. Sasha groans, his knees weak and legs aching from standing so long. His arms ache too, a dull, throbbing feeling above his head, chained high above to the ceiling of the small cell he's being held in.
His clothes and face are specked with blood, not much from his own body, but remnants from the fight he and his team had been in mere hours earlier; The fight he had been plucked from. He didn't know why, but his powers weren't working; no flame even as he flexed his fingers and focused on it with all he could. There was nothing to do, no easy out that he could see, and so, he waited.
He waited minutes, ticking by until it had been at least another half hour when the door to the cell finally opened. His head lifted from its hanging position to see a tall, broad-shouldered man taking large strides into the room.
"You fuckers finally decide to come see me, huh?" Sasha mutters in annoyance.
The man hardly spares a glance in his direction, walking instead to the side of the room.
"So you're the silent type then." He hums, "Whatever, just let me down from here."
Suddenly, a light overhead blinks to life. Sasha dips his head low and squints his eyes until they adjust, hearing the cell door slam shut as he does so. When he lifts his head again, he gets a much better look at the room, specifically the line of weapons along the wall to his right.
One of his horns is grabbed and used to yank his head to the other side, forcing him to make eye contact with the man.
"Get your fucking hand off there," Sasha growls, not breaking the man's stare.
"You are not in control here." The man snarls back, "I'm sure you know we want something from you."
He cocks his head to the side, pulling against the grip holding him, "Well, you're not gonna get it," He says adamantly, twisting his wrists in the shackles, as if testing how good they were.
The man scoffs a laugh, "I've got all day. Now I'll give you a chance to get this over with quickly. Tell me all you know about Valiant."
"I’ll tell you what I know, my name is Red. Rank Specialist," Sasha responds, even-toned and face void of emotion.
The man tugs his head back by his horn again, making Sasha's lip twinge. "Don't give me that codename and rank bullshit. Tell me what I wanna know."
"Red. Specialist." he hisses, sucking in and spitting straight at his face, a defiant sparkle in his eyes, “That's all you'll get from me.”
“You!-” The man yells, yanking his horn back and using his other hand to wipe his face before roughly grabbing Sasha's chin, "You little shit!"
"I told you to let go," he responds through grit teeth, eyes pulling into a glare while forced to stare in his direction.
“And I told you that you're not in control.” The man says, readjusting his grip when the demon tries to pull away. He lets go of the horn, pushing his hand into his pocket and rummaging through, finally pulling it back out after a few seconds.
“But if that's how you wanna play this,” He chuckles. A glint of light shines off of his hand, and Sasha realizes then that he's adorned a set of brass knuckles. "Let's begin round one."
Before Sasha can say anything, the man's arm flies toward his stomach. A burst of pain blooms through when the metal makes impact and his body jerks forward, stopped abruptly by his chained wrists. He lets out a strangled grunt, lifting his head back up to glare at the man.
“Is that all you've got? My dog could hit harder than tha-” He huffs, cut off by the slam of a fist to his face that knocks his head to the side. The echo of a crack sounds throughout the room, it stings in a ripple through his whole face, followed by a river of blood from his nose.
He curses as he feels it leak down his face and off his chin. He can taste copper in his mouth, but his position doesn't allow him to do anything about it, so it stays, rolling over his lips and staining his teeth and shirt with deep crimson.
Another blow to the stomach steals his breath away, he can feel the points of the metal puncture his skin underneath his shirt. His legs wobble underneath him, but still, he doesn't let out more than a grunt.
“What is your commander's name? His real name.”
“You must be really stupid,” Sasha wheezes, spitting blood at his captor's feet, "If you think… I'd tell you that."
The man grabs him by the neck, wrenching his head upward so he's facing the ceiling, “You will eventually, stupid thing,” He says, squeezing his hold until the demon's ability to breathe is nearly completely gone.
Sasha can feel the blood from his nose seep down the back of his throat in this position. He snarls, baring his teeth, “I’d rather die,” he chokes out.
The man huffs, tightening his hand the rest of the way, the metal on his knuckles cold against Sasha’s skin. "You better stop that before I rip those fucking fangs out," he threatens.
The demon gasps breathlessly, unable to make a response, fighting for air that won't come and aspirating on his own blood as he does so. He tries to jerk his body away from the other man's hold, but he doesn't let go until well after Sasha's chest feels tight and his vision is spinning and dark on the edges. The shackles restraining him rub his wrists raw as he tugs them, his lungs burning for reprieve.
At some point, Sasha thinks the man won't even bother letting go, the only noise he can make is an ugly gurgle, kicking his legs out weakly until finally, the pressure eases. The hand leaves his neck and he jerks his head back downward, coughing the blood from his throat and sputtering for breath. The man hardly gives him any time to recover though, before swiping his feet out from underneath him.
A scream tears through his lips as he falls, sending a searing pain through his shoulder before he can catch himself.
"Pathetic," The man mutters, walking back to the wall of weapons as the demon struggles.
Sasha's legs thrash, trying blindly through the pain to regain his footing. He stumbles, feeling like lightning pulsing through his whole body with every movement. When he finally gets himself sturdy on the ground again, he avoids looking to his right.
It feels wrong. Very wrong.
The man is standing back in front of him again now, something close to a bored look on his face. Sasha grinds his teeth and squeezes his eyes shut.
“What, can't take it anymore? Ready to talk?” His tormenter asks, mock pity lacing his tone.
A sharp, breathy, “Hah–ahh,” is all he gets in response. Sasha blinks his eyes open again and this time, he notices something in the man's hand– a long, black leather whip. His fingers curl into fists above him, eyebrows pulling downward.
He’d been trained for interrogation, just like everybody on his team, but he had hoped he'd never have to put it to use. Yet, here he was, barely standing, face covered in blood from a broken nose, with a dislocated shoulder, among other things– he knew there'd only be more to come. But he knew, more than anything else, that there was no way in hell they could make him talk.
No matter how much it hurt.
He truly would rather die before ever even thinking about it.
The man lets the whip uncurl at his feet, smirking at the red and black haired creature in front of him. “I guess I’ll have my fun, then,”
“Fuck- you," Sasha retorts finally, unwavering red eyes staring back, his mouth mirroring a smile of his own, “Go ahead,” He croaks.
The man nods, chuckling lowly as he cracks the whip in the air. The demon doesn't flinch, doesn't let him get the satisfaction of it. If he was going to take this, he’d take it fighting tooth and nail.
When the first strike comes down, he doesn't move a muscle, stubborn to frustrate his tormentor as much as he can. He keeps his scowl even through the tenth strike, eyes twitching and glare sharp. On the next lash though, it hits his side and wraps all the way around his back, crossing over two other marks, tearing straight through the fabric of his shirt and splitting his skin. He lurches forward, the shackles stopping him and pulling on his dislocated shoulder. He chokes back a scream, but the pain doesn't stop. Each hit seems to get worse after that, the man swinging his arm as hard as he can, blossoming red stripes all across Sasha's back.
The man doesn't even talk anymore, focuses all of his energy on delivering as much power into his strikes. In the same vein, Sasha focuses everything he has into keeping silent and standing. His strength was already sapped from the fight before all of this, and he was sure whatever was stopping his powers was leaving an effect too. It was much harder to keep his composure now. With the whip shredding his back, he couldn't help the noises that managed to escape, panting gasps, hissing, and the occasional whimper.
“I'm not stopping until you give me something,” The man says calmly, words interrupted by the swish and crack of the whip in between. Sasha growls back at him.
He loses track quickly though, his hands gripping the chains above him so hard his knuckles are paper-white, and soon enough, a scream rips through his throat. He feels there's been hardly any place on his back left untouched, and now the whip crosses many gashes every time, tearing scream after scream from him.
He barely realizes when it stops, head hanging low with his chin to his chest, sweat and blood covering his trembling form. His mouth hangs open, breathless, his fangs bloody from biting his own cheeks and mouth.
The shackles release with a click, and as soon as they aren't there to hold him up, his knees buckle, crumpling him to the cold concrete floor. He groans softly, fingers curling against the rugged ground until a rough calloused hand buries itself in his hair and tugs. Sasha wails in pain, the man using his hair like a handle to pull him to the middle of the room, scraping his injured shoulder along the way. He kicks the demon onto his back, setting the fresh wounds there ablaze. Sasha bites his lip until it bleeds just so he doesn't scream another time.
“Oh… What's this?” The man asks, crouching down above his beaten form, grabbing him by the horn and wrenching his face toward him to reveal a few tears streaking his cheeks. “Bit off more than you can chew, huh? Has the tough little monster reached his limit?" He asks, laughing.
Sasha's chest heaves, breaths coming out erratically. He manages to mutter an, "Asshole," his voice coming out wrecked. He could feel the anger in him boiling under his skin, he wanted so badly to punch the man, kick him, burn him– something– but his body felt so weak now he was scared he might even melt into the floor.
"You know this could all stop if you just gave me what I wanted, Red," the man says above him, voice evening to a softer tone. His fingers slowly move the sweaty hair from the demon's face, "It could all be over. No more pain. We could get you cleaned up and out of this cell,” He murmurs, hands gliding through his hair and softly rubbing the base of his horns now.
“You think I’m fucking stupid,” Sasha growls out, “Like I don't know what you're doing, how this shit works.”
Like you wouldn't kill me the second my mouth closed.
“Maybe," the man responds, hands pulling a little tighter, "Must be to have ended up here," he taunts.
Sasha rolls his eyes, huffing hard through his nose. He can feel the blood leaking from the wounds on his sides and back has started to pool on the floor beneath him, soaking into the remnants of his tattered shirt. It’s begun to feel sticky on his face and neck, he can still taste it in his mouth.
"I’ll kill you, first," he says, throat burning still even through the smallest words. Every breath taken feels like broken glass scratching its way up his windpipe. He tries to slide his head away from the man's touch, but a yank on his hair pulls him right back.
"If that's how you wanna go about this," The man chuckles lightly, standing up from his crouching position and filling the room with the noise of the cracking of his knees, “Then who am I to refuse?”
Sasha wants to tell him how annoying his voice is, how he'd much rather him not talk at all, but instead, he closes his eyes, trying to drown out the pulsing agony all over. He brings the hand of his good arm, with new screaming red stripes around his wrists where the shackles had held him up, to his face, shakily wiping under his eyes. When he opens them again, the man is back above him, a sledgehammer dangling right over Sasha's face.
“What now? If you still can't seem to think of any information… maybe you need a reminder? You think a hammer to the knee might do the trick?” His gruff voice ponders mockingly, and before Sasha has any time to react at all, the hammer cracks onto his knee.
“Fuck!-- No,” He yelps, flashing pain down his leg.
“No? How bout’ somewhere else then,” The man responds. He grabs hold of the neckline on the back of Sasha's shirt, yanking him back onto his stomach through moans of pain, tearing the shirt more in the process, “How about here?”
Sasha completely freezes when he feels the cold steel against the back curve of his horn. A lump forms in his throat, blood running cold and heart stuttering.
“N-no… pl–” He stops himself short of begging, “Don’t.”
The man delivers a testing tap, causing a violent flinch from the demon beneath him. He wrenches a hand in his hair again and pulls him back when he tries to move away.
“You’re sure? How about I test and see,” He says. It feels like time has stopped in the moment after, his head pounding. His head is pulled back harder and he feels the hammer smack into his horn hard, the loud crack pulling a guttural whimper from him. It comes down once more, even more force this time, sending splitting hot pain through his head like a migraine. He cries out, but when he hears the thud after, his eyes blow wide.
When he sees it in front of him, he feels bile rise up his stomach, suddenly so dizzy he might pass out.
He knew his team was looking for him. He knew they were probably losing their minds– he knew he had to hold out until then. So he tried not to focus on the broken end of his horn on the concrete in front of him, tried to ignore the sharp sting where it used to reside, and mostly, tried not to let it get to him. He purses his lips as he tries not to let the broken noise escape him, even as he feels his eyes water slightly, and waits a few seconds until he thinks he can bear it.
With blood dripping from the new hole in his head, and pain coursing through his entire body, he rasps, “Guess… you’ll have– to start round t-two.”
And he hopes that his team will make it before he loses anything else.
It took me a bit to choose, but I ended up going for my favourite anyways, and I had to edit it a bit so it was readable lol.
CW: Electrocution, brief hand whump
"F-fuck you…" Whumpee spits after the last shock subsides, flexing his muscles to pull at the restraints again.
"Are you sure you want to keep talking to me like that, Whumpee?" Whumper says walking in front of him and crouching to his level.
He's on his knees, legs spread apart to his sides, both ankles tied to the floor. His wrists are tied together in front of him between his knees, pulled down and tied tightly to a D-ring on the floor too. To add fire to the flame, there's a collar strapped around his neck, tied to the same anchor; It forces his back to arch forward, and renders him almost completely immobile.
Whumpee glares back at him and growls, “I dont have shit to say to you.”
Whumper tisks and stands. He guides the end of the cattle prod to Whumpees chin, lifting it so they are eye to eye again. Whumpee's gaze does not falter.
“You can hide behind your words and pretend to be strong Whumpee, but you and I both know you aren't. There's a reason I picked you instead of anyone else. You're the weakest on your team.”
"That's not true," Whumpee responds with grit teeth. His body aches and pain courses through him. He's been in this position since yesterday; 'the perfect position for whipping,' as his marred back is evidence to. He's been in this cell for the past week, suffering in endless ways.
No food. Little water.
If this is weak, then Whumpee doesn't know what strong is anymore.
"Tell me what you know," Whumper demands, pushing Whumpees chin up slightly farther, straining his neck against the collar.
"Suck. My. Dick."
Whumper sighs mockingly, and in a swift movement, jabs the electrodes into Whumpees chest, pressing the trigger. Whumpee cries out as his body convulses, fighting to get away but with nowhere to go.
When it stops again, he gasps in a breath, body shaking. Whumper raises an eyebrow at him, as if asking, "how about now?" Whumpee just shakes his head, lips pursed into a thin line.
So Whumper shocks him again, and again, and again, longer and longer each time. It gets harder to suppress the noises of pain that want to escape from his mouth, harder to pretend that it doesn't hurt as much as it actually does, to prove his words wrong. Whumpees hands unclench and push hard, flat against the concrete floor, shoulders hunched as he tries to keep himself from collapsing forward.
Whumper lifts his finger off the trigger, watching with a smirk as Whumpee spasms and struggles, ragged breaths filling the room.
"Seems like you're getting closer, hmm? You've lasted longer than i thought,"
"I-Im n-not giving them up," Whumpee laughs bitterly. His laugh sounds more like a wheeze at this point, breaths shaky.
"Then maybe we should try a new method, something with a more lasting effect…" Whumper says, walking out of Whumpees view. Whumpee can feel his heartbeat pick up even more as he hears rustling behind him. He doesn't know what to expect.
When Whumper comes back in front of him, he has a sledgehammer in his hand, and he crouches in front of Whumpee again, a dangerous smile dancing across his lips. He lightly taps it against each of Whumpee's knuckles.
Whumpee's blood runs cold, he tries to hide the fear in his eyes, but Whumper is smart; He notices the slight flicker and he relishes in every bit of it.
"Anything new come to mind?" Whumper taunts, stretching his arms slightly like a baseball player before they go up to bat.
Whumpee's mind nearly goes blank with panic. Whumper’s going to smash his hands to pieces. What if they never recover? What if they're disfigured for the rest of his life? How could he ever draw again, help Leader cook, play video games with Teammate, fight again?
“You gonna give me a location?” Whumper asks evilly.
Whumpee can almost hear the joyous chatter in the room as they gather in the common area, watching as food fills the table, food that he and Leader made, smiles on their faces. The smiles that they use to show love, that tell Whumpee they’d sacrifice for him if they had to. It's with those smiles in his head that he swallows his fear. He would give up everything to keep them safe, including the things that made him him. He'd die for them if he had to.
“Go to hell…” Whumpee swears, tensing up when Whumper's eyebrows draw down.
“Now which hand should we start with, hmm? The left? Or your dominant one first…?” He asks, tapping his right hand. Whumpee gets angry with himself for letting Whumper figure that out, even though he couldn't have known this would happen.
“Oh, you talked so much before, got nothing to say now?” Whumper laughs, with a quick backhand to Whumpees cheek that snaps his head to the side. Whumpee stays quiet, doesn't let himself speak the obscenities he wants to shout. He doesn't want to give Whumper the satisfaction of getting under his skin any more than he already had. He pulls against the ropes-- If he could get out he'd kill him.
“Guess i'll choose for you then. How about the right one?” Whumper smiles, “Let's start off strong.”
Whumpee watches as Whumper raises the hammer upward, braces himself for the impact, but squeezes his eyes shut as it swings downward.
In the few seconds that follow, Whumpee doesn't know what to feel. It feels sort of like floating on the ocean; it's peaceful, in a way, but you know that at any time you might sink. Then, the pain slams into his hand. A strong, strangled yell gets caught in his throat.
“Acting strong again? Come on Whumpee! Just tell me!” Whumper yells. Whumpee says not a word. So Whumper swings again, and this time, Whumpee screams, loud and raw as white hot pain shoots up his arm. Two more hits later, and Whumpee’s watery eyes blur over, but he still doesn't change his mind.
Whumper goes to swing again when he hears a slam from upstairs. His arms drop, and he quickly hides the confusion on his face, quickly looking at Whumpee, who doesn't even seem to notice what's going on or even that Whumper hasn't hit him again. Another slam sounds, closer this time. Whumper slides the hammer across the room, grabbing the switchblade from his pocket when he notices the sound of footsteps rushing toward the door. He quickly picks up the cattle prod from where he left it on the floor, and gets into the perfect position behind the sagging Whumpee with the knife to his throat and the electrodes to his side.
“Dont fucking move!” Whumper yells as the door bursts open.
Whumpee's eyes widen when his team files in, stopped dead in their tracks at the glint of the knife.
“Get the fuck way from him,” Leader growls.
“Oh, so glad of you to join the party! I was just asking Whumpee about you all." Whumper sneers.
So I've actually posted half of this wip before here, but here’s a bit more for ya 😉
Cw: Implied noncon, guns
“Look at me,” Caretaker signs, hands shaking so hard even through his desperate attempts to steady them. His boyfriend nods, wide, scared eyes looking back at him, the carpet bristling harshly against his bare chest as he's pushed down further into it. Whumpee flinches as he feels hands against the small of his back, pulling at his pyjama pants. He squeezes his eyes shut, drowning in the silence, hands digging into the carpet and mouth suddenly opening to let out a choked gasp as he feels Whumper prodding there. His eyes snap open again when he feels the man push inside, a shriek emitting. He desperately looks to Caretaker again.
“Just look at me,” He signs again, tears streaming down his face. Whumpee nods, fingers squeezing tighter around the shag fabric as he tries not to focus on the gun at his boyfriend's chin or the feeling of the masked man's hands pushing into his back. The quiet makes it hard not to.
Thanks for the ask!! (And also all the likes the other day lol)
So heres my millionth forced to watch piece, what can I say I love it so much. Fair warning, this is a wip to an NSFW piece, however since it is a wip, nothing nsfw actually happens, but just to be safe im going to say its implied.
In this drabble I had wanted to try something new with a deaf whumpee, and while I was editing the spelling mistakes to make it legible, i really wanted to finish it haha.
CW: implied nsfwhump, deaf whumpee, guns, home invasion, death threats
Caretaker stumbled slightly into the hallway, not bothering to turn on the light. Whatever had willed him to wake up at three in the morning for no good reason was surely going to make him pay at work later.
It was probably going to take him forever to fall back to sleep... He grabbed a glass from the cupboard in the kitchen, rubbing his eyes with his other hand.
He was so groggy he didn't notice the broken glass on the floor by the entryway, nor did he recognize the light footsteps behind him as he filled his cup in the fridge door.
Suddenly, an arm snaked around his waist and tugged him back hard into a stiff chest. He blindly swung his arm backward as the body holding him twisted him around to face two masked figures.
“Slow it down big guy,” One of the intruders spoke, voice deep and calm, his gun pointed straight at Caretaker's face. At the same time, he feels the barrel of another gun at the back of his head.
He is definitely awake now.
"I don't have much money… I'll give you all I have," Caretaker says slowly, unsure of what to do. There's at least three guys, and they're all armed.
They ignore him and instead the man holding him asks a question, "Got anyone else in the house big guy?"
Caretaker slowly shakes his head. His boyfriend is upstairs, sleeping in their bed, and he's a deep sleeper. If they stay down here…
"You didn't seem too confident in that answer," Whumper 1- seemingly the leader of the group- says, looking back at his buddies before continuing, "How about we check for ourselves?"
Shit.
He can feel his palms begin to sweat. Fighting back right now isn't even an option, and he couldn't even think of a way to keep them from going upstairs.
Whumper 3 shoved him forward, keeping hold on him as they all walked toward the hallway.
Caretaker's legs felt like jelly, but Whumper 3's gun to his head forced him to press on. Even if he wanted to try to warn his boyfriend, or make a distraction, it wouldn't matter.
They reached the top, and came to the first door in the hall, cracked open slightly-- because Caretaker had thought he would be right back-- and he was, just not in the way he'd expected.
Soft snores could be heard from inside, and Caretaker's heart pounded when the main intruder's eyes met his.
He could only see the man's eyes and mouth underneath his ski mask. Somehow, that seemed scarier to Caretaker. The man's eyes are a deep green, not an ounce of remorse to be found in them.
"Looks like the big guy lied to us," Whumper 1 says quietly, holding his stare to Caretaker's fearful eyes, "Go on in then."
Whumper 3 pushes him forward toward the door. He raises his shaking hand to the knob, pushing it open with a loud creak. His boyfriend doesn't stir.
He lays in their bed, curly brown hair a mess on his head, button nose dusted with freckles and his plump lips slightly parted. Caretaker looks at him, sweat beading down his forehead as the intruders enter the room behind him.
"Please, you can have whatever you guys want… I haven't seen your faces; I won't tell,'' Caretaker says, voice slightly shaking now, gaze never leaving his innocent boy, "Just leave us alone,"
"What, you dont wanna share?" Whumper 1 chuckles, walking further into the room so he can look at Caretaker from beside the bed. His hand travels to lightly rest on the small of Whumpee's back. "Besides, we ain't here for money…"
A heavy breath escapes from Caretaker's nose as his eyes widen. He stands, frozen still, with the cold steel barrel still at the back of his head.
"Please," he whispers, the next words coming out more like a whimper, "Just not him..."
He was supposed to protect Whumpee.
"How about you keep quiet now." Whumper 1 remarks.
The deep voice of the man behind him leans into his ear to speak, "Talk anymore and we'll put a bullet in his head, let you watch him bleed out, then put one in yours," Whumper 3 warns. Caretaker looks up, squeezes his eyes shut and tries to will away the tears trying to fall. He could at least try to be strong for Whumpee.
Whumper 3 shakes him, causing his eyes to snap open as he gasps. "Got it?" The man grunts. Caretaker nods his head stiffly.
Whumper 1 stands over the sleeping figure, takes a hand and caresses down his face. Whumpee shifts, turns his head, makes the slightest little mumbled noise. Whumper 1 looks to Caretaker and smirks.
"Must be a heavy sleeper," he says. He trails his hand down, lower, to his neck, wraps it around the throat, and squeezes.
Caretaker lunges forward- tries to anyways- but the arm around his waist pulls him back, the hand holding the gun swings around to push under his chin and the man pulls him flush against his chest.
Whumpee's eyes snap open, struck with fear at the stranger above him. His arms fly to claw at the hand obstructing his breath.
"C-aretaker?!" He squeaks out, eyes searching frantically around the dark room. He only sees silhouettes.
The cold steel of the gun presses against Caretaker's adams apple, a silent threat telling him again not to talk.
"Beg me to stop," Whumper 1 says to the struggling body underneath him, "Cmon baby, use your voice and beg."
Caretaker pulls out again, nearly falling to his knees struggling against the guy holding him.
"Stop!" He yells, "He can't hear you! He's- he's deaf goddamnit!" Caretaker sobs, hands clawing at the arms around him.
Whumper 1 finally lets go, allowing Whumpee to roll and fall off of the bed. He breaks into a coughing fit, one arm pulling up to rub at his throat.
"Oh? Deaf you say?" Whumper 1 asks.
Whumper 2 claps their hands together loudly, the crumpled figure on the floor doesn't do so much as flinch.
Ok hehe so this is from the master doc of this drabble where I was writing all 3 parts lol. Here's a snippet from part 2.
Cw: electrocution, knife, neck wound
"F-uck!" Whumpee yelps through a flash of white pain as the electrodes emit again. His team watches with bated breath as his body jerks against the ropes pulling him down.
He hates that they're here, hates that they're watching this. He doesn't have enough time to worry if Whumper's words are true.
"I'm gonna tear your team apart," Whumper says, staring straight into Leader's eyes, fingers still clenched against the trigger, holding it until Whumpee spasms forward into the knife. It knicks him and he grunts in pain as blood begins to trickle down his neck.
Soo I of course associate you with amazing writing, (babies Liam & Chase of course 🥺) but also two of my favourite pieces: team whump & party entertainment like omg I love those so much.
When it comes to music, you kinda feel like alternative/indie to me 🤔
Cw: discussion of noncon drugging, spiked drink, and noncon, Self blame
Espen blinks up at you, taking a moment to process the question, "I- I didn't let this happen... I went to a bar, I watched my drink get poured like they say to-- maybe- maybe I looked away for a second after-- but I didn't think the guy would do that. I thought he was hot, okay? And I shouldn't have let him persuade me to drink it like that... But I wasn't thinking, and-" his frustration at the situation quickly turns to anger, and he speaks with grit teeth, "But I didn't want that to happen. I didn't want to be raped-- I didn't want... this."
