#command asks

[as-a-matter-of-whump]

Vincent, give Jonah a new shock collar that is activated by loud noises… like talking or yelling. It’s up to you if you tell him that or not.

CW: cursing, shock collar, conditioning

Every now and then, Vincent removed Jonah’s shock collar to clean it and replace the batteries - in the meantime, Jonah was allowed to take a bath and relax, the warm water and the bubble bath soothing his bruised skin. Today had been one of those days and he had enjoyed it tremendously, especially since Vincent had still seemed somewhat miffed about his reaction when he had offered him breakfast in bed the day before.

When he entered the bedroom, Vincent already waited for him; with a sigh he walked over to the vanity mirror and sat down on the stool in front of it, lifting his damp hair a little.

‘Let’s get over with it,’ he grumbled.

‘Still so demanding,’ Vincent chided, shaking his head.

‘What’s your goddamn problem? I don’t even fight you anymore when you put that…thing on me as if I were a fucking dog!’

Suddenly he fell silent and his hands shot up to his neck.

‘Hey, what is this, that's not the one you usually put on me, what’s- AHHHHH! Vincent, what-’

He started to scream and received yet another shock.

‘Vin-’

The intensity of the the shock made his throat feel as if it was on fire; he couldn’t even scream anymore and bent over, panting heavily.

‘I think you already found out what this new collar does, right?’

Jonah slowly lifted his head and looked up at him, his face contorted with pain while Vincent kept smiling.

‘Every single time your voice gets louder than a whisper, that collar automatically emits a shock - I don’t even need my phone for that any longer!’

‘You- HGNHHHHH!’

Vincent sighed.

‘That’s exactly what I explained to you a minute ago. You can’t actually be this stupid.’

‘Why do I have to wear this? Am I not even allowed to speak anymore?’ Jonah croaked in a low voice.

‘You may speak,’ Vincent explained patronisingly, ‘but decently. And quietly. Until you’ve learned that, you’re going to wear this collar. It’s up to you how long it will take.’

[nerv0usm3chanic]

► Give me a smooch. ;) (msaluna)

Send my character a ► and a command. They must obey.

@msaluna

“Pucker up, buttercup~” And there he go, hugging Luna tight and smooching her lips, her cheeks, her nose...

[comfy-whumpee]

▶ hi, jim. break one of ty's fingers for me, if you please.

Well, TW for broken bones.

Jim’s eyes widen. “No, n-no I can’t, I can’t - don’t - I can’t hurt him, please don’t, please-”

“Jim.”

His head snaps around to his husband. Sitting calmly on the floor, cross-legged, with his hands held out before him, Ty meets his gaze.

“It’s alright,” he says softly, soothing. “It’s okay, Jim. You have to.”

“I-I can’t-”

Ty nods. He inches forwards. One of his hands stretches out and rests beside Jim on the cell’s stone flags. “You can. The little finger on my left hand. Take it.”

Jim’s hand shakes as it reaches out, and then shies away from the touch.

Ty finds his gaze again and holds it. His expression is calm, everything else folded and packed away neatly. Ty knows how to survive. “Trust me, Jim,” he says. “Trust me. Take my hand with your left. With your right, grab the finger. Go on.”

His stomach churns like gravel in a blender. Jim does as Ty says. A low, scared noise sounds faintly in his chest, at the feeling of Ty’s slim hand in his.

“Snap it back as hard as you can,” Ty says. “A quick, clean break. You can do it.”

He shouldn’t be doing this. He shouldn’t be making Ty comfort him, making Ty encourage him to - to - hurt him. But how can he not? How could he have done anything else but refuse?

The seconds pass. A dozen times, Jim plays out the moment, imagines the sound, and flinches away. He can’t move.

“I’m asking you, Jim.” Ty interrupts his thoughts gently. “Please. I know you have to. It’s okay.”

It’s not okay, it would never be okay in a million years, but he squeezes his eyes shut and jerks his hand back and before he’s even stopped to think whether it’s enough, he hears Ty suck in one long, hissed breath, and the crack happens that moment.

Jim drops the hand and pulls back, wrapping his arms around himself. “Ty, I’m - I’m - I-I’m sorry I, I...”

Ty shudders, bent over his hand, cradling it, and then he straightens. There are tears in his eyes and a dogged smile on his face. “It’s okay,” he repeats, and his voice is choked. “It’s okay, Jim. Y-You did what you had t-to do.”

[getyourwhumphere]

► Brandon, go try to panhandle, but instead of seeking money, seek a new owner

Disclaimer: This isn’t canon

Brandon looked at all the people passing by with a pleading look in his eyes. He just wanted to find a new master, to be wanted again!

“F-Free pet av-available, looking for n-new owner.”

Everyone ignored him. There were even a few glares shot his way, which made him wince and cower.

He begged until he cried, yet nobody listened to him. He wrapped his arms around his knees, sobbing softly. He knew nobody would want a bad, worthless pet like him.

[as-a-matter-of-whump]

Vincey-boy, tie Jonah to the bed just to scare him

CW: fear of noncon/implied noncon, forced partial nudity, noncon touching

‘Time for bed,’ Vincent declares, shooing Jonah up the stairs.

The older one is already dressed for the night and keeps a wary eye on his captive as he changes into his pyjamas.

‘Can you not…?’ he mumbles weakly and turns around; undressing in front of the other man will never be anything but uncomfortable for him, even after all this time.

‘Nope,’ Vincent grins, ‘You’re a sight to behold and I will cherish every little second.’

With a sigh, he closes the buttons of the pyjama top, walks over to the bed – and stiffens as he notices the rope in Vincent’s hands.

‘What are you-’

‘Lie down.’

He shakes his head and takes a step back.

‘What are you going to do with the rope?’

‘You’ll find out soon enough. Lie down.’

He wants to object, but he doesn’t dare to, so he lies down, already dreading whatever is about to happen now. With practised hands, Vincent starts winding the rope around his wrists and ankles and eventually fastens it to the bedposts. Jonah starts trembling.

‘Wh-...what are you doing there, please… why are you…’

‘Shhhhh,’ Vincent smiles and bends over him, slowly opening the buttons of his pyjama top.

‘No, no please…!’ he whimpers, squirming and writhing in his restraints, trying but failing to escape the unwanted touch.

It’s happening. It’s finally happening. A cold hand starts touching his chest and leaves him panting heavily.

‘Please Vincent, don’t…please don’t! You promised-’

‘Oh, did I…?’

He runs a finger along the pale skin, enjoying the way Jonah trembles and pleads until he finally sits up again, a big grin forming on his face.

‘Just teasing, honey. Nighty-night!’

[as-a-matter-of-whump]

▶Jonah you should hide vincent's meds when he's having a migraine and actively try to make it worse :)

CW: migraine attack, cursing (like, a lot), death threats (not to be taken seriously)

Jonah couldn’t help but notice that Vincent’s hands kept moving up to touch his forehead the whole morning, the movement either accompanied by a silent moan or followed by him taking off his glasses, cleaning them obsessively and putting them back on. By now, he knew exactly what this meant - and this time, he would put his knowledge to good use. He waited until Vincent, holding a bottle of water and a mug filled to the brim with coffee in his hands, vanished into his study and rushed upstairs into the bedroom.

‘There you go..,’ he murmured with a big smile on his face, snatched the bottle containing his meds from his drawer and poured the contents into his hand.

‘Now you are going to suffer for once…’

Just seconds later the unmistakable sound of the toilet flushing could be heard.

~*~

‘Oh, for fuck’s sake!’

Jonah looked up from the book he was reading and watched Vincent leave his study and walk upstairs with faltering steps. He smiled to himself and waited for the inevitable burst of anger that started barely a minute later.

‘What the fuck is that?! I know I had some left, that fucking thing can’t be empty! Where the fuck-’

Listening closely, he could hear him browse through every single drawer in the room, throwing things aside that blocked his way, cursing all the time. Roughly five minutes later, Vincent returned, his hand pressed against his forehead once more.

‘Okay, listen to me, Jonah,’ he declared, ‘I have a migraine and apparently I don’t have any meds at home right now, so do me a favour and be quiet while I’m trying to sleep, okay?’

‘Uh-huh,’ he nodded and picked up his book again.

‘Good. And stay here, I don’t want anyone near me right now.’

‘Okay.’

As he went upstairs again, Jonah chuckled quietly. This was going to be fun.

~*~

The curtains were drawn, leaving the bedroom in complete darkness. Vincent lay in bed, a wet cloth covering his eyes, and tried to sleep. He knew that taking ordinary painkillers wouldn’t grant him relief, but it had been worth a try. He still couldn’t believe that he had run out of medication so soon! If only he could fall asleep…

A loud noise startled him and made him sit up in bed, a movement followed by vertigo and nausea just seconds later. He lay back down, the piece of cloth pressed firmly against his forehead again.

‘I will kill you, Jonah..,’ he mumbled.

Whatever that boy was doing downstairs, it was too loud.

‘Just one more sound and I’ll fucking kill you…’

~*~

He must’ve fallen asleep eventually, because he was woken by a nauseating smell. Something… sweet… and… He pressed one hand onto his mouth to keep himself from throwing up, but he knew that he had to find the source of this terrible smell and get rid of it, immediately. What even was this?! It took him a solid five minutes to discover the mug filled with chamomile tea in front of the vanity mirror and another three to pick it up and pour it down the drain.

‘Jonah!’ he yelled; his own voice echoed painfully in his ears as he lay down again.

‘Yes?’ the young man asked as soon as he appeared in the bedroom door.

‘Why the fuck did you come here?’

‘Because… you called me…?’

‘Goddammit, before that!’

‘I brought your tea.’

‘I didn’t want tea! Especially not that kind of tea!’

‘But you asked me to bring you some!’

‘I- what the hell are you talking about? I told you to leave me alone!’

‘Yes. And then you called me because you wanted tea.’

‘You fucking liar, I didn’t call you!’ he screamed and threw a pillow in Jonah’s direction, only to curl up into a ball seconds later; even in the dark Jonah could see tears welling up in his eyes.

‘I just want to be left alone, is that too much to ask?’

‘No, it’s fine, I’ll just go back down.’

‘And stop making such a noise!’

‘Vincent, I was just reading a book, I didn’t make a single sound.’

‘I heard you!’

Completely baffled, Jonah shook his head.

‘I don’t know what you are talking about. Whatever you heard, it wasn’t me.’

‘Just get the fuck out!’

He shrugged.

‘Okay.’

Closing the door behind him, Jonah smiled viciously. This was far from over…

[as-a-matter-of-whump]

► Vincent, bring Jonah breakfast to bed!

CW: mention of choking (only on a slice of toast though)

Jonah woke up to the smell of freshly brewed coffee, toast and…something he didn’t want to smell, let alone taste ever again. Blinking slightly, he turned around to see a tray filled with everything he liked to eat for breakfast - well, apart from that one thing. Scrunching up his nose, he stared at the small jar filled with strawberry jam.

‘What’s this?’ he asked hoarsely and sat up in bed.

‘Breakfast!’

Vincent beamed with joy as he sat down on the edge of the bed and held out the tray.

‘Breakfast in bed, actually, thought I’d surprise you!’

‘Yeah, that’s… really surprising…’

‘Open up.’

‘What…?’ he asked drowsily.

‘Your mouth, silly!’

‘I- hmmpfff!’

He almost choked on the piece of toast in his mouth, coughed and gasped for air.

‘Are you insane?’

‘Shut up and eat, I’m only trying to be nice.’

Jonah narrowed his eyes in suspicion.

‘You never are.’

‘If you keep being so ungrateful I’ll shove it down your throat.’

‘You already did that! And strawberry jam of all things! Is it the anniversary of my imprisonment already?’

Without saying another word, Vincent got up, stormed out of the room and slammed the door shut behind him, deeply hurt by the rejection he had received.

[as-a-matter-of-whump]

> I think jonah you should demand that Vincent let’s you go outside hehe

CW: backhand slap

‘Vincent..,’ Jonah approaches the other man in a low voice as soon as he finished his breakfast.

‘Hm?’

‘Can I… um… I mean… can we…’

‘What is it? Come on, spit it out!’

‘I wanted to ask you if you would… erm…’

‘Jonah!’

‘I want to go outside.’

Putting the newspaper he has been reading aside, Vincent stares at him as if he had just asked him to get him an inflatable unicorn.

‘Yeah, I can imagine,’ he sneers once he’s regained his composure.

It takes him a while to realise that the younger one is still standing next to him, looking at him with pleading eyes.

‘Are you serious?’

‘Just for a little while… and… only into the garden if you don’t want to let me go on a walk…’

‘I’m asking you once again, my sweetest Jonah… are you serious?’

‘Yes..,’ he mumbles, ‘I just… want some fresh air and-’

The backhand slap makes him tumble and almost fall to the ground.

‘I understand that I will have to make sure that the words I want won’t be part of your vocabulary any longer…’