#impaled

This work is inspired by this series by @jumpywhumpywriter.

Whumpuary 2026 | 13. “Hold still.” Possession. Impaled.

CW: forced nudity, non-con bondage/rope restraints, cloth gag, needles, possessive hero, villain whumpee

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He was everywhere. He filled every corner of her mind. Wherever she looked, she saw him. His broken form, bruises painted on his skin, blisters scattered across his body. Even now, drinking latte in her favorite coffee shop, she imagined his swollen head resting on her thighs-   

God, what was wrong with her?

She shook her head and sipped her coffee, savoring the bittersweet taste.

Villain was the definition of evil. She shouldn’t feel… this. Whatever it was.

But the whites of his teeth fleshing so close to her skin, the savage look in his eyes… A chill ran down her spine. She felt like a tamer of beasts who had been sent to a cage with tiger. It was thrilling. And utterly stupid.

She paid and got another coffee to go, for Superhero. Little gift to exchange for time with Villain. But she didn’t rush back home, no. She took her time, wandering past the shops, eyeing the displayed products. Nothing really caught her interest, until she passed the pet shop—she stepped back a few paces—and there, behind the window, was a set of collars. They were all different sizes and different materials and it was all too easy to imagine Villain in every one of them. Clawing his fingers at the too-tight leather strap. Gasping for air at the new oppressive sensation-

This needs to stop.

She knew people grieved differently and she lost too many in too short time, but this crossed every line. It couldn’t continue.

She decided to hurry—she didn’t want the coffee to get cold (and she definitely wouldn’t ask Superhero to see Villain again).

Villain was tied to a table. It was a remarkable handiwork—all the precise knots holding his body firm; not allowing him much movement besides insignificant twitch of a muscle.

Well, this didn’t go according to the plan.

Hero’s eyes travelled over his body. He was naked again. Stretched. His legs spread. The table ended at his shoulder blades, leaving his head unsupported and Hero reveled in how he switched between trying to keep his head up and letting it fall down, exposing his neck in such a vulnerable position. It would be so easy to just trace his windpipe with her fingers… and squeeze.

No. No. No.

She turned her head and looked out of the window. She’d never guessed when she returned to Superhero’s place, they’d have him in the kitchen. Like this. She hoped, at least, they would disinfect the place properly afterwards.

Superhero sighed: “You should be careful with the food, Bunny. He’s getting feisty.”

“And you should be careful with the starvation, if you want him to live.”

Superhero grinned. “Fair.” They sipped their coffee and then set the cup aside, next to Villain. “So. Where were we?”

A small metal box lay on the counter opposite them. Superhero rummaged inside it with their fingers, sending a sinister clinking sound through the room. There was something sharp. And it smelled of antiseptic.

Hero watched them pull a needle out­—huge one and glass-like. It shimmered in the light as if exited to bite deep into someone’s flesh. It sent shivers down her spine.

“Did he try to run?” she asked and hated how small her voice sounded. She didn’t want Superhero to get the wrong idea—she was not pitying Villain.

“Oh no. But he was getting smart with his mouth. It’s better to smother it right away than let it flare up into something bigger.”

“I said I’m sorry! Please!” begged Villain. “I promise I will be good. I will be good!”

Superhero rolled their eyes, impatiently tapping the needle on his thigh. “Bunny, would you mind shoving something in his mouth?”

She looked around. There was a washcloth slung on the faucet and she grabbed it and rolled it-

“Please, no,” shook Villain his head, but when Hero approached, he pressed his lips tight and turned his head. Hero didn’t really know what to do. She could grab his hair and twist his neck to the point of pain. She could cover his nose and make him struggle for air. But she didn’t have this inside… this kind of violence. It was all good in her imaginations, but now…

“Open, pet,” ordered Superhero with cold voice, tracing the sharp tip of the needle along his inner thigh. The blisters there ruptured and spilled clear liquid. “Open. Or I’ll go get the ring gag and we’ll see how many of these,” they brought the needle closer to his eyes, “we can stick in your tongue at once.”

Tears appeared in Villain eyes, but he let his head fall and opened his mouth. Hero stuffed the cloth in, pressing it deep, until not one piece stuck out. Villain gagged a little at the end, but didn’t try to spit it out, didn’t try to fight.

Superhero smiled, their face as bright as always. “You see how kind we are? You won’t bite your tongue like this. Now, hold still.”

He was shaking again. His big scared eyes followed Superhero’s every movement, his chest heaving with panicked breaths, as they drew the needle closer to his skin—and then the sharp tip drove through his flesh. Villain arched his back. He let out a cry, but the gag muffled it, leaving only a dull sound. The moment the needle was inside, sliding beneath his skin along the length from his pelvis up to his ribs, he tried to wrench himself free of the ropes.

They didn’t budge an inch.

His frustration was palpable. His pain sweet, delicious.

She watched his body give a fight already lost, uselessly trashing in the ropes… before he gave in.

Now you understand what it’s like to go this mad and be unable to do anything about it. Now you understand how people felt when you happened to them.

Villain closed his eyes. He tried to say something. Probably “I’m sorry.” Not that Superhero cared. They spun second needle between their fingers and then slowly sank it in his ankle. Pushing it deeper and deeper, slicing his ligaments, letting it appear on the other side.

Villain screamed. Rent the ropes. Trashed his head around. It looked like he wanted to hit something with it, hard enough to cause concussion—anything to allow himself the luxury of unconsciousness.

“Stop it now, pet,” Superhero frowned. “Have you forgotten what I taught you about accepting punishments?”

Villain shouted something into his gag, and Superhero chuckled, one hand pressed to their lips. “Oh, right. You can’t talk.” They picked up a third needle, and Hero saw terror wash over Villain. His eyes gleamed with tears as he shook his head in a pleading no.

“You’re supposed to be grateful for every punishment, because I’m allowing you to become better.” They set the needle beneath his chin, the sharp tip aimed into his mouth, toward his tongue. “But I’m starting to feel like you don’t want to be better. My lovely Hero came back from you yesterday completely shaken. Care to tell me what you did to her? Or should I ask her instead?”

Hero’s stomach dropped, her palms slick with sweat. Villain watched her with desperate, unblinking eyes, and Superhero was smiling.

Wrong. Everything felt wrong.

Hero took a step back. “He didn’t do anything to me.” Her voice sounded thin, even to her own ears. A strange shiver slid down her spine, as if she could still feel his breath against her skin, the ghost of his sharp teeth hovering far too close to her fingers. “We just talked.”

Superhero answered with a disinterested hmm. No hesitation. They drove the needle in.

Villain screamed.

The sound ripped through the room, raw and animal, and Hero’s knees nearly buckled beneath her. She pressed herself against the fridge. She wanted to stop this and she wanted to hear more. Rage and stupid, stupid compassion fighting within her.

“Now listen, pet.” Superhero stepped close to Villain’s face and idly threaded their fingers through his hair. From a distance, the gesture might have looked almost affectionate, if not for the ropes and the needles and blood. “If you ever hurt Bunny—if you ever make her sad, or uncomfortable, or displeased—I will reorganize your bowels. Do you understand?”

Villain nodded violently, tears streaking down his face. Yes. Yes!

Superhero straightened and turned to Hero. “You can take him back to his cage. Or you can play with him more. But be careful.” Their tone was friendly as always. “If he gets his dirty hands on one of the needles, he will try to kill you. Don’t forget who he is.”

Then their gaze flicked back to Villain, smile growing, sharp and so unlike them. “Don’t get any more funny ideas, okay?”

Superhero left without ceremony, the door closing with a soft, final click, leaving the girl alone with the monster. Hero—unlike the maidens in the stories—was not afraid. She put herself together fast and studied him. With one sharp, practiced movement, she pulled the needle from beneath his chin. Villain groaned around the cloth stuffed in his mouth, the sound low and broken.

“You can spit it out.”

Villain obeyed, though not easily. The gag clung stubbornly, his mouth painfully dry, and it took a moment of fumbling, desperate effort before he managed to force the cloth free. It dropped to the floor, darkened and slick with blood. The needle must have pierced through the thick muscle at the bottom of his mouth; through his tongue, maybe even grazing the roof of his palate. He swallowed hard, breath hitching, as if afraid to test what still worked.

Hero moved to the needle at his side. It looked scary, moving with his every breath, but the wound was shallow, and pulling it out didn’t leave much damage in its wake.

She put the sharp instruments away, remembering her friend’s words, and turned her attention to the ropes. It would have been faster to cut them with a knife, but she didn’t want to wield a weapon anywhere near a killer of his caliber.

She worked patiently until Villain was free—almost. The ropes still bound his forearms together behind his back, biting into his flesh, forcing his arms tight against his body.

“May I sit?” His voice was weak, and for the first time Hero felt all her precautions slipping into absurdity. What could he possibly do in this state?

“You may.”

Villain moved slowly. With his hands tight, the motion was clumsy, but once sitting, his eyes went immediately to his ankle. “Shit.” The needle was still there, driven deep, the glass vanishing into bruised skin. All his muscles were tensed, as if trying to keep it from moving. “Shit, shit.”

“Well… you could have had your bowels reorganized.”

Only then did he look back up at Hero and she swore that something, at that moment, happened between them. A memory passed. Understanding shared. His teeth on her skin. The shiver that ran through her body and left something behind, something that was festering, growing inside her. His feral eyes, beast long forgotten that finally bared its fangs.

The moment passed, swift and unreal. Villain bowed his head. “Thank you. For not telling Superhero I tried to bite you.”

Hero hummed at that.

She was disappointed—she wanted to explore… this thing. Understand what was happening, why she couldn’t think about anything else but him.

“What will I get in return? For not telling?”

Villain’s head shot up, confusion in his expression slowly morphing into fear. “I… don’t have anything.”

“Hmm… Is that so?”

Villain stared at her for a long moment, as though afraid that acknowledging it might make this conversation real. But he couldn’t run forever.

“I only have- You want my body,” he breathed slowly, half question, half realization. She saw the desperation seep into his being as he shook his head. “There is nothing more to give.”

Hero stepped closer and placed her hands at his neck, thumbs brushing gently over his tense muscles. It still baffled her—she could touch her nightmare like this and he allowed it.

“I want you to belong to me.” She didn’t know what it meant or why she wanted it, but God, she did. Her fingers traced the line of his jaw, wiping the blood away, tilting his chin up.

“What do you say?”

Broken laugh escaped him, thin and breathless. “Do I have a choice?”

“We always have choices, dear.”

The same way you chose to kill Sparrow and Blue. Chose to burn my mother.

Her hands fell down, waiting. She forced herself to stay still, to breathe evenly, but she was shaking inside.

Yes. Say yes.

Villain bit his lip, pain and hesitation flickering across his face, then nodded slowly. “I am yours.”

Her heart started racing. She took hold of the needle buried deep in his ankle, and pulled it free in one smooth motion.

He was hers—and the weight of it hit her all at once.

God… What have I done?

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Guess who’s little obsessed?

Tag list: @stars-hide-our-fires

PS: I meant Hero, not you Stars.

(I’m sorry I should stop trying to be funny)

Prompt: Pinned Down

Febuwhump Masterpost

Whumpee ran. Sprinted through Whumper’s camp, feeling the cold, packed damp earth slapping beneath his feet was disgustingly wonderful. A feeling he didn’t think he’d ever miss, no… but here he was, breathless from the run, already exhausted from weeks of being captured and subdued, beaten and grounded and starved. His lungs screamed at him to stop, his muscles clenching as if he was ten sets into a workout, but Whumpee continued running.

A small crazed smile on his lips as he felt the wind on his face, rushing through his damp hair that Whumper kept tied back. The first thing Whumpee did when he got free was take that blasted bobbin from his hair and let his shoulder length raven birds nest free. He felt… oh gods, he felt alive.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 |

Taglist: @whumpinthepot @princessquinnella @oldspruceinn

Author's Notes: thanks so much to everyone who has read so far!

Content Warnings: tiny whump, fairy whump, g/t, lady whump, royal whump, captivity, interrogation, torture, exhaustion, caretaking, healing, aftermath of impalement