āGod complex? Donāt be silly. I understand that Iām fallible.ā
āBut I also know what Iām doing.ā
Character Hasan Badeaux belongs to me.
Febuwhump 2026 | Day 10 | God Complex
Febuwhump tag list: @chaotic-orphan
seen from United Kingdom
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āGod complex? Donāt be silly. I understand that Iām fallible.ā
āBut I also know what Iām doing.ā
Character Hasan Badeaux belongs to me.
Febuwhump 2026 | Day 10 | God Complex
Febuwhump tag list: @chaotic-orphan

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I'm Curious...
When you imagine a Whumper, are they
Male
Female
Nonbinary
It Changes
Other? Elaborate in tags
Look at me, trying to write more bc it's good for you. This is a response to a prompt I saw a while back, kinda lost the original prompt but eh
Masterlist
Non-sexual nudity tw, non con touching tw, non con stripping tw
Heavy footsteps sounded on the stairs as Whumper slowly descended into the basement, wearing their customary steel-toed boots. Their Whumpee shuddered and pulled himself up into a kneeling position before them as they approached.
āAwe,ā Whumper said with a lazy grin, hands held behind their back, ādonāt you look pretty all ready for me?ā
Whumpee held their tongue, staring straight ahead as Whumper sauntered over. He really was a stubborn one. Tonight should help with that. Whumper gave them a salacious once over and licked their lips at the plethora of colored bruises decorating Whumpeeās shirtless form. He really was gorgeous like this.
Johnstone, Johnstone, my darling boy Johnstone. "Pleading" on the BTHB card for him?
ID: Bad Things Happen Bingo Card
BTHB 1C - Pleading
BTHB Masterpost
Sorry about the wait, but I don't like rushing UwU Johnnybastard is certainly tough to make plead, but I think I have a way of forcing him :)
CONTENT AND WARNINGS: Dehumanisation, it/its as dehumanising pronouns, whumper turned whumpee, this episode, on 'How Homoerotic Could This Conceivably Get?' (even though Dathrir's gender is unfathomable, the spirit is there, (it's sfw tho dw)), wait, how the FUCK did I write hand whump (sliced thumb, EW), noncon turning (not a vampire thing, but a demon thing... even though vampires are a type of demon in these realms... idfk but Johnstone gets the worse deal) it's not transformation /yet/, forced blood drinking
wc: ~1k
āOn your knees.ā
Dathrir grabbed the restrained humanās throat, and with their free hand, their fingers wandered through its hair, and the clawed tips scraped over its scalp. The threat sent a chill down the humanās spine despite the snarl that stayed fixed on its face.
It took nothing to force it down, despite its viciously growled protests.
Compared to when he stood tall as a House Master, the human in front of them was small. It was probably the ragged clothes, and grimy, bloodied face that gave that impression.
Fallen from humanityās grace.
A traitor.
here's a new little unnamed thing! idk if i'll continue with this, but i just had the idea for a bit of the dialogue and wanted to run with it, so here's the results of that!
TW: guns, threats, held at gunpoint, brief mention of stalkery behavior, implied abduction and captivity, multiple whumpers, nonbinary whumpee (Indigo, they/them), nonbinary whumper (Lee, he/him)
"Hey, uh, we just moved in across the street! Thought we'd come over and introduce ourselves."
He was handsome, Indigo would give him that. And charming for sure. They both were. Indigo was not the type to just invite strangers into their home, neighbors or not, but before they could stop themself to think, all three of them were sat chatting in their kitchen. The chided themself silently, one small voice scolding them, telling them that they were being overly cautious, paranoid. But there was another voice, too. This one told them that this was a huge mistake. Just opening the door had been a mistake.
The first one introduced himself as Michael. He was tall, with deep, dark eyes and sharp features. His voice floated through the air like a birdsong. Combined with his curly, honey-blond hair, he reminded Indigo of an angel.
Michael introduced the other as Lee. He was quiet, soft-spoken. His eyes were soft and gentle, a soft gleam shining behind them. Everything about him was soft. Hell, if Indigo wasn't getting over a breakup, they'd probably pounce the poor boy's bones.
They chatted for what felt like hours. Indigo, at one point, got up to make tea for all of them, but once they returned, it was back to chatting. They couldnāt figure out what it was, but something about them just broke down their walls in a way that they had no chance of anticipating.
The problem with broken walls is that they no longer keep out any danger.
"So then, this has been a great chat, but let's cut to the chase." Michael smiled, that light, charming smile. "Who would you rather belong to?"
Indigo sputtered on their tea. Certainly they had misheard.
"Sorry?" They asked, laughing nervously and setting their mug down. "Maybe my tea's gone bad."
"Oh, ha, nah your tea is fine. We checked the expiration dates of your things the last time we came over." Michael hummed, setting his own mug down in turn. "I said, who would you rather belong to?"
"It's not a hard question, is it, love?" Lee followed. Indigo stood from their seat, almost frantically grabbing all three mugs and quickly setting them in the sink.
"Last time you-? You're freaking me out. I think it's time for you to see yourselves out." Indigo turned back to face them. Then, they froze. Michael was holding a gun. Had he had that the whole time? How had Indigo not realized?
"You're going to have to choose one way or another." Lee said lightly. "We're just trying to make it easier on you." He smiled that same, soft smile at them, standing slowly.
"Get out. Right now." Indigo took a step back, still eyeing the gun. "This isn't funny. Get out."
"You know we're not gonna do that, Indigo." Michael smiled. In an instant Indigo was running. Where they had been sitting, Michael and Lee were given easy access to block any exits. Michael stayed in his seat, he just so 'happened' to block the back door. (Though maybe he'd planned it that way. Indigo couldn't tell.) And when Lee stood before, it gave him a perfect opportunity to move to block the front.
Think, think. Ok, exits are blocked, so... Up it is?
They ran towards Lee, but not at the front door. As they neared him, they swung themself around the stairway, speeding to the upper floor before Lee could grab them. Indigo could hear him following closely, Michael behind both of them.
Luckily, Indigo was fast. Fast enough to get into their bedroom and lock the door behind them and fast enough then to run into the connected bathroom, locking that door just the same.
They huffed, sliding to the floor in an attempt to catch their breath after barricading the door with whatever they could find. They jumped at the sound of the two slamming through the door into the bedroom.
"You've blocked yourself in, Indigo. Did you forget that there aren't any windows in there?" They heard Michael say through the door. Fuck. He was right. "We can wait all night, so just save us all the time and effort and come on out."
They stayed silent, though let out a quick shriek when someone slammed against the door.
"Make this easier for yourself now, sweetheart." Lee said, knocking carefully on the door. "If you come out now, we won't have to punish you."
"Punish? I- What?? You can't do this!" Indigo yelled. "We're in the suburbs, dipshit, the neighbors will hear the gunshots and call the cops. They'll hear me yelling!"
"Naughty, naughty. Such bad words, Indigo, maybe we'll cut out your tongue to teach you a lesson." Michael sighed. "Remember, whatever happens now is your fault."
Indigo shrieked again as one of them slammed against the door.
"You fucking psychopaths! Leave me the fuck alone!" They cried, now frantically searching around their bathroom for some sort of weapon. All they could find was a small pair of scissors that they use to trim their hair, holding it protectively out in front of them as the door continued to shake.
Finally the moment they feared came to fruition when the door cracked violently open. Lee panted, looming in the doorway, with Michael slightly behind him, now directly pointing the gun at Indigo.
"And what do you think you're going to accomplish with those, dear?" Michael grinned, pulling the hammer of the gun. Indigo felt their blood run cold as they sat on the tacky green tile floor of their bathroom. Were they about to die on this floor? The green taken over by red as they bleed out?
"They'll hear." Indigo repeated shakily, clutching the scissors like a shield.
That didn't matter much. Indigo heard a whoosh and a thunk from behind, distracted and turning to see what the noise was only to see a fresh bullet hole in the wall. The shock alone caused them to drop their makeshift weapon and scramble further from the two people boxing them in.
Indigo fearfully looked back at the gun in Michael's hand, only now looking long enough to see the silencer on the end of it.
"I have some money." They stammered. "It's not a lot, but- but just take it and go and I won't tell anyone alright? Just take it and go."
"We're not after money, dear. You could give us literally everything you have and it wouldn't be enough." Michael finally took a step into the bathroom. "If we were looking for money, we'd just sell you like most of the others we've picked up. No, Indigo, we want you."
"We were planning to wait until night to take you," Lee explains, "Though Michael got a little excited and let out the surprise a bit early. No worries though, that just gives us some more time to get to know each other before we make our moves."
Indigo's mind was reeling. This had to be a nightmare, right? Michael took a few more steps into the room, kicking the scissors away as he stepped closer to his target. Indigo watched their only weapon slide away across the floor. Shit, they hadn't even realized they had dropped it.
They looked up at Michael who was looming over them now, then to Lee, still standing by the door. Yeah, this was a nightmare. It had to be. All they could do now was hope they woke up soon.
tags uwu @whumpsday

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A Few
CW: Vampire whumpers, whumpee who is also whumper, sadistic whumper, blood drinking, hints of dubcon intimate whump implied (fade to black)
For @amonthofwhumpās 12 Days of Whump, Day Six: Countdown
-
Paris, France, 1940
Erich leans back against the wall, frowning down at the blood under his fingernails as he inspects the cracked, chipped edges. Thereās something deeply unsanitary about it, especially since heās not entirely sure how many peoplesā blood it even is. He canāt possibly do anything about it, though. The blood wonāt come out.
The streets of Paris are never empty, not even in these darkest days. There are always those who risk everything for a bit of joy and celebration of life - and there are always those who prey on them.Ā
Of course, there are those who prey on the predators, too.
He sighs, counting inside his mind, as he sees a man pull his overcoat tight and step quickly over a puddle in the street, glancing left and right, the brim of his hat pulled down low to hide his face.Ā
Right on time.
They know where heās headed - to a small flat above a store that has been raided and razed to charring inside. He intends to terrorize the family still hiding within, demand money they donāt have for their dubious protection from Erichās own countrymen. Invaded in May and conquered by the end of June, France quakes under a war machine they hadnāt known how to defend against.
Germany is an avalanche burying France, Poland, anywhere else its bony fingers can touch. He hears German spoken in the streets, and he recognizes the language but not the feeling within it. He knows the faces but not their expressions. He doesnāt know his country any longer, but then⦠heād stopped recognizing his country long before heād been turned into this. He thinks of the war he fought for them, for their great Imperial pride, and bitter fury churns inside of him, turning the very saliva in his mouth sour.
How many men had died, then - and how many of their very sons would die this time? All for the pride of some great man who stays hidden behind the lines, demanding the soldiers loathe the enemy to the point of death but never willing to risk himself?
He spits off to the side, eyes narrowing, tongue running over his fangs.
Still.
The man stops, perhaps feeling eyes on him, but he doesnāt see Erich hidden in the shadows. He murmurs to himself, and Erich doesnāt know a lot of French but he does know a curse when he hears one.Ā
Erich keeps counting.
Three⦠two⦠one.
Auri drops from the balcony above the manās head and lands on him, sending him flat on his stomach to the wet sidewalk with little more than a soft oof and the crack of his head against stone.
Playground
For @whumpawoman Angstpril; prompts are Whumper-Run-In, Panic Attack, and maybe even Revenge.
This arc is a collaboration with @for-the-love-of-nsfwhumpā , Damiel is hers and in this universe, theyāre married to Ira. Also - this is a piece of writing Iām very proud of, and I hope that you like it.
Content: whump aftermath, trauma, panic attack, referenced captivity, referenced lady whump, referenced death/murder of a loved one.
Emma is pulling at Isaac's hand, and he almost has to jog to keep up with her short legs. "Your uncle is an old man, Emmy," he says, half joking. He's not old, but he can't walk fast. Not since he's had a bullet lodged in his hip, in the night that cost him everything.Ā
"But I can see the playground already! Can I go? Please?"Ā
He can see it, too. A big wooden pirate ship, some swings, a handful of other adults and kids wrapped into warm clothes on this sunny day in late fall. It's just some meters, he tells himself. It's safe. Still, it takes him some seconds to force his fingers to open and let his niece's gloved hand slip out of his, as she races off. There's something to the way she runs. Despite the childish joy to her movements, the somewhat clumsy way she sets her feet, he still thinks of Sophie. Sophie, who can't be here, who has never met her niece, and whose laugh he misses every single day. The last thing he's seen her do was run. Run by his side, to safety, to freedom. It had been so close. They could've been together. They should be.
They aren't. He's alone.
On the playground, Emma has reached the pirate ship and is already climbing up, gloves dropped on the ground, hands and booted feet steady on the small climbing grips. Sophie and him have always wanted kids. They'd talked about it often enough, before they went to bed. Two, at least, one boy and one girl, maybe. He wonders, if they'd ended up with the light brown curls Emma shares with him, or maybe more of the straight black hair from Sophie's side.Ā
He'll never know.
Gabrielās Confession and Reconciliation
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