😌

Whumpee breaking things in whumper's house as an act of defiance.

Whumper watching and waiting patiently for it to end, drink in their hand, smiling as they think of how much fun will punishment be.

I dont want to be exposed to varying and diverse fandom opinions I love my echo chamber #myechochamber

The bidding to choose Whumpee's death had been raging hard for seven days. Now, the countdown to closing was at an end. They strained at their bonds. It was as useless fighting it now as it had been from the beginning. Whatever the rich bastards who won this auction wanted to do to them, they would do. There was no stopping it.

But when Whumper read the email from the winner to themself, the look on their face was one of revulsion - and that terrified Whumpee more than anything that they had seen or heard so far.

"Well," Whumper said, grimacing. "There's no accounting for taste."

Two henchmen came in and Whumpee was unbound for the first time in over a month. Not for long. They were dragged kicking and screaming toward a flat table, strapped on their back to the surface and left helpless once again.

They wailed piteously as Whumper strolled over, a thin rag in one hand and a large, opaque jug in the other.

Whumpee started to sob. They should never have let slip that their fear was suffocation, never because they knew what this meant. They were going to be waterboarded. Drowned where they lay, and because of the cloth, Whumper could do that to them as many times as they wanted.

"Please," Whumpee whimpered. "Please don't waterboard me, please, I-"

Whumper shook their head. "This isn't water."

Whumper popped the cap on the jug and the smell that hit Whumpee's nostrils was unmistakable.

Vanilla extract.

Trained from birth as an assassin, your mind was bound by a powerful control spell. Sent to kill an archmage, they cast Dispel to weaken you—accidentally freeing your mind instead. For the first time, your dagger points wherever you choose.

Sirius the Jaeger

Episode 11

Prompt (570)

The hero shivered in the cold, bundled up in a coat. Their ride was supposed be here a half an hour ago. Out of the blue, a lone taxi pulled up to the curb.

“Need a ride?” The driver asked.

The hero knew that voice. They peeked inside. The villain.

“Not a chance in hell,” the hero hissed. “Get out of here.”

“Come in,” the villain said. “What did I ever do to you?”

“Should I start listing things?”

“Come on. The snow’s about to start.”

The hero looked up. The sky was a concerning shade of grey. Freezing to death, or an unpleasant car ride. They briefly weighed their options.

“Fine,” the hero conceded.

They got right in the passenger seat and reached for a control knob. “But I choose the music.”

Prompt #4

Villain gripped Hero's collar in their fists, eyes burning, cheeks stained with tears.

"I. Fucking. Hate you." Their voice was low, full of hurt and loathing.

Hero stared up into the face of their nemisis - their friend - with wide eyes. They swallowed the lump in their throat, guilt burning in their blood. "I...I'm sorry-"

"Sorry?" Villain laughed and their voice cracked. "Oh, no. No, no, you're not sorry." They gripped the fabric of Hero's shirt tighter, pulling them close enough for their noses to touch. "You're not sorry," Villain murmured. "But you will be."

Holy Jesus Christ In Hell WHAT IS THIS BEAUTIFUL THING 😲

My touch burns? Oh, no, Father, I'm so sorry. Do you want me to stop...? No? Of course you don't. Shh, shh. It's alright. Does it hurt when I press myself against your back? No? Oh, don't squirm like that, Father, don't be afraid.

I'm cleansing you of your sin. My hand around your cock is helping relieve you of everything pent up inside of you. See how you're already spilling into my hand, and how your hips shake? Of course it burns, it's like putting alcohol on a wound. It's only to purify. No more build up, no more desires, just let go and let me help you.

Your voice is so sweet, Father. You sing your hymnals so beautifully during service, of course your moans carry as well. Shh, shh, let me draw your desperation out of you. That's it. That's it.

Cry for God all you want. He can hear you. He knows you're on the path to righteousness. All it takes is you cumming in my hand and your vision going white. Really, quite easy if you asked me. Then my touch won't burn anymore. You'll be clean.

Writers when they realize they really have to write

Your whump word(s) of the day

“I’m not leaving you here, you understand me?!”