i’m Akia, he/him ✦ I post whump writing & art ✦ I try to tag everything!
Writing Tag: #akia.txt
Art Tag: #akias art
✧ Drabbles & Oneshots
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✧ Seven Series (servant/pet whump)
✧ Asa & Silas (captivity, defiance)
✧ Rainwater and Gasoline (kidnapping, whumper-turned-whumpee)
✧ Dark Circuit (mafia setting, wip, just barely started this)
✧ The Boy in the Alleyway (wip)
Collabs/Crossovers
✧ Rowe & Aris (vampire whump, royal whump, collab w @/unorganisedalienrubbish)
✧ Sapphire (living weapon sci-fi, collab with @/paingoes)
✧ Kane & Raiza (vampire whump, collab with @/whumpsday)
✧ The Castle (vampire whumper, vampire hunter whumpee, collab with @/not-a-space-alien)
Rules for asks: I do take requests, asks are open,. if you have a thought about one of my characters I wanna know about it! but if I don’t get to it right away i am hoarding it like a dragon until inspiration strikes :>
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OKAY. After fighting for my FUCKING LIFE here is the first part with Warren and Aster <3 We kinda just get right into it haha
CW: NSFW, NONCON, implied past noncon, kidnapping, intimate whumper, stalking
***
Aster looked around the room he’d woken up in, his eyes wide. It was like his own bedroom, back in the apartment he shared with his cousin and his roommate, but at the same time… not.
The bed he’d woken up on was bigger than his own, but the sheets and blankets were similar earthy shades of brown and green, even the plushies and soft leaf shaped throw pillows were identical to the ones on his own bed. There was a nightstand beside him, with a lamp just like the one on his nightstand at home, with the flower shaped lampshade he loved so much. Above him where dragonfly shaped string lights, which also hung above his bed at home, and on the wall was the same fabric scroll that hung next to his own bed, with detailed pictures of flowers, each clearly labeled.
“What in the fuck…” He murmured, his heart racing. He tried to get up and explore the rest of the basement, there was a small couch and a tv against the other wall, and another door opened to a bathroom, but before he could even get all the way off the bed something caught his ankle abruptly and sent him tumbling to the floor, he landed awkwardly, half off and half still on the bed. He twisted around to see a metal cuff secured around his ankle, a short chain locked to the bed frame so he couldn’t go far. It was a struggle, but he managed to get himself back on the bed, taking a closer look at the cuff only to find it was locked with a padlock, there was no way he was getting it off himself.
He anxiously looked around, trying to make sense of the situation. He remembered walking home from work in the rain, he remembered feeling anxious, feeling like he was being watched, and then… he remembered Warren. One of his professors, Warren Calloway, a nice man he’d always felt comfortable around. He remembered Warren offering him a ride, insisting it was unsafe to walk alone, only to take him somewhere secluded, drag him back to the car when he tried to run, and drug him so he fell unconscious. Warren had done this to him, judging by the look of things, Warren had been planning this for some time, and now, he would have to wait on him if he wanted any answers. As badly as he wanted to know what was going on, he also dreaded seeing that man again.
He tried to think of another way out, he pulled open the drawer in the nightstand hoping to find something he could attempt to pick the lock or break the chain with, but he wasn’t that lucky. All he found were condoms, lube, and a pair of handcuffs. His stomach turned, any hope he had of this being something other than the worst case scenario was shattered instantly. He was all the more desperate to escape, he started inspecting the cuff again, looking for a weak point in the chain, anything. His hands were shaking, his heart pounding, he was so focused on finding a way out that when the door across the room finally opened, it startled him. He gasped, his head shot up to see Warren, walking casually into the room.
“I’m glad to see you’re awake.” He said it like this was… nothing. Like there was nothing odd about the situation, as if he’d just let Aster crash on his couch after a rough night. He was calm, friendly even, nothing like the cold, scary man Aster had seen before he’d passed out. This just scared him even more.
“W-Warren…?” He stammered, looking around anxiously. “What- what is all this?”
“Do you like it?” Warren asked, he sat down on the edge of the bed, which prompted Aster to push himself further into the corner. “I tried my best to get it as close as possible to your bedroom, I wanted you to feel at home.”
“Like it?” Aster asked, his eyebrows raised. “What are you- what do you mean like it?!” He cried, hugging one of the leaf shaped pillows close to his chest. “How did you even do this- have you been in my fucking room?!”
“Of course not.” Warren said, he was giving Aster a look as if he were odd for even thinking that. He took his phone from his pocket, Aster watched as he swiped across the screen before showing him one of his own social media accounts, the last post he’d made was yesterday, showing off his outfit in the mirror. In the background, his bed was clearly visible, as were the lamp on his nightstand, and the dragonfly lights above his bed. He knew very well that he had even more pictures up that would’ve shown more angles of his room. “You share quite a bit online. I was able to piece it all together from your posts alone.”
“How… How long have you been planning this…?” He asked, his voice wavering, and Warren smiled at him, kind, affectionate even, and very unnerving in these circumstances.
“Since the first time I laid eyes on you.” He said, setting his phone down on the nightstand. Aster felt a chill run up his spine. “Back in September, the first time I saw you in my class, I knew I had to have you to myself.” He moved closer to him, and again Aster tried to push himself back, but he was already as far into the corner as he could get. “You were so beautiful, and then when I saw you again at the start of this semester, I knew you must’ve felt the same way.” At this point he had Aster trapped against the wall, Aster flinched when he raised his hand but he only placed it against his face, his thumb caressing his cheek.
“I didn’t!” Aster cried, his heart racing. “I just- I just needed the fucking class, and I thought you were a nice professor, not- not a goddamn freak!” He swore he saw the corner of Warren’s mouth twitch, that smile threatening to fall.
“That’s fine.” He said calmly. “You can learn. You’ve always been so smart.” He brushed his hair back from his face, and then he leaned in and kissed him. Despite everything in his body telling him to push him away, to bite him, to fight back, Aster simply… froze.
Oh god. Oh god no. This can’t be happening. Not again, please, dear god not again, He silently begged, tears welling up in his eyes. He was too scared too move, too scared of what might happen to him if Warren thought he was resisting, all he could do was sit there and let him kiss him, clutching that pillow to his chest still, the only thing providing him some small sense of comfort in this moment. And even that couldn’t last very long, as Warren pulled back, he pried the pillow from Aster’s hands and tossed it aside.
“Now baby, I don’t want to hurt you…” He said, resting his hand on Aster’s thigh.
“You already hurt me.” He said, his voice shaking. Warren ignored him.
“So I need you to behave for me. It’ll feel good for you too, I promise.” He said, he pulled Aster by the hips so he was laying down, staring up at him in horror.
“Warren- Warren, please, please no…” His voice cracked, he didn’t even care, he was terrified.
“It’s alright, I’m going to take good care of you.” Warren said, he undid the button on his pants, in a panic Aster tried to push his hands away and Warren sighed. He straddled his legs to hold him down and reached for the drawer in the nightstand, Aster’s heart sank. He’d forgotten about the handcuffs.
“Wait- wait please!” He cried as Warren took them out, locking one around one wrist. “Please, I- I’ll have sex with you! I’ll do it, I’ll have sex with you, just please- please don’t restrain me! I swear it, I’ll do- I’ll do whatever you want me to if you jus-just let me go home after.” He begged, and Warren smiled at him, his head tilted slightly, like he’d just said something adorable and amusing.
“Oh, sweetheart. You are home.” He told him, and Aster sobbed. He pulled the chain through the bars of the headboard and then locked the cuff around his other wrist, having to wrestle his arm above his head as Aster desperately tried to push him away. He still yanked against the handcuffs, the metal bit into his skin, he didn’t care, he just wanted out.
“Let me go!” He cried, pulling as if he could somehow break the chain, twisting and thrashing beneath Warren in an attempt to buck him off.
“Hey- hey, look at me,” Warren said, he’d placed his hand on his cheek again, “You need to relax, you’re going to be alright. Take a deep breath now-“
“No!” Aster screamed, he didn’t want to hear a word he had to say, he just wanted this to stop. Warren had run out of patience with him, he drew back and slapped him across the face, doing so a second time when Aster didn’t stop wailing. He roughly grabbed him by the face and leaned down so they were close, his eyes narrowed.
*”Listen to me,”* He warned, “I can make this nice for you, or I can make it very, very painful. I’m sure you know which one you’d prefer, so stop throwing a fucking fit and be good.” He growled. Aster whimpered, his jaw clenched as he struggled to hold back his sobs, and he reluctantly nodded.
Tears continued to stream down his face while Warren got off his legs, only so he could unzip his pants, pulling his pants and boxers off him. Of course they caught on the chain, but that ultimately didn’t matter, they were no longer an obstacle to Warren. He did the same with his shirt, pushing it over his head and arms until it caught at his wrists, leaving him completely exposed. Aster had to squeeze his eyes shut, he couldn’t stand to look at Warren’s face, he was looking over his body hungrily, Aster wasn’t entirely sure if he was about to fuck him or about to take a bite out of him like an animal.
Warren forced his legs apart, though Aster resisted at first, he was scared of what Warren would do if he kept fighting. He choked back a sob when he felt Warren’s hands between his legs, he wasn’t being rough or particularly forceful, just… exploring. It was as if he was learning every inch of his body, fingers teasing over his entrance, brushing over his dick with a featherlight touch and causing him to squirm, whimpering uncomfortably.
“Warren… please stop…” He whined, though he knew it was useless. “I-I don’t want this…”
“Shhh, just relax.” He said softly, focusing more on his cock, rubbing gentle, slow circles that made him nauseous, even as heat pooled in his stomach. He felt like he didn’t have control of his own body, his cock twitched, his hips moved, searching for more stimulation as Warren made slow work of this, which only encouraged the man. “See- baby, you’re wet already. Of course you want this, you just need to let yourself enjoy it.”
Not again. This can’t be happening again, He felt like he was dreaming, this had to just be a nightmare. He had plenty of nightmares after the first time, he still did, surely this was just another thing his brain had conjured up to torment him with. He’d wake up soon, in his bed, his actual bed, in his cousin’s apartment, his roommate on the other side of the wall.
He kept praying he’d wake up.
He cried out when Warren slipped a finger inside him, he moved slowly, like he was trying not to overwhelm him, but it didn’t make this any better, nothing could. Aster tried to close his legs again so Warren used his other hand to hold his leg down, situating himself in between them.
“Just relax baby, I don’t want to have to tie your legs down too.” He warned him, though Aster could only keep crying in response. It didn’t hurt, but it was unwanted all the same, uncomfortable and intrusive and completely impossible to ignore. After spending some time getting him used to the intrusion, he added a second finger, Aster squirmed in his handcuffs, his head thrown back in discomfort.
“Warren, please.” He begged, tears streaming down his face, soaking the pillow beneath his head.
“I know, I know, you need more.” He said, pumping his fingers in and out, in and out, Aster felt he’d be sick.
“N-no, no, stop!” He cried, his voice pitched up, the sound be made completely contradicting what he said- in Warren’s mind, anyway.
“I can’t do that, not when you’re moaning so pretty for me.” He teased, and Aster groaned in frustration. Warren heard it differently, of course. “See, I told you it would feel good. Just let yourself relax.” He coaxed him, but it wasn’t working, his body was tense with fear and discomfort, his hands balled up into fists above his head, his body trembling as he resisted every urge he had to fight against the man. “What’s the matter, is this your first time?” He asked him, and Aster frantically shook his head.
“No, Warren- I’m scared!” He cried, searching for some mercy, some sympathy that would never come.
“You don’t need to be scared, I’m not going to hurt you.” He told him again.
You are hurting me. You’re hurting me right now. Please, just let me wake up. I don’t want to be here, let me wake up already.
Warren took his time fingering him, Aster whined and moaned when he rubbed his dick while his fingers were still inside him, as much as he hated it, his body reacted anyway. His face was flushed, he was burning up even in the cold basement air. Warren was still talking to him, but he did his best to tune it out. He shuddered when Warren finally pulled his hand away, taking a deep, shaky breath to try and calm himself down, but of course, it wasn’t over. Warren shifted, he heard the sound of a belt buckle being undone, a zipper pulled down, he bit his lip, his body trembling as he cried.
“Come on pretty boy, open your eyes now.” He told him, holding Aster by the hip to position him the way he wanted. Aster shook his head, he didn’t want to have to see it happen, as long as his eyes were closed he could continue to believe it was all just a bad dream. Warren dug his nails into his skin, and when Aster only squirmed in discomfort he was grabbed by the face, Warren tightly gripping his jaw. “I said open your fucking eyes.” He ordered, and finally, reluctantly, Aster’s teary eyes fluttered open, looking at Warren’s own flushed face. He still had that look on his face, looking at Aster like he wanted to devour him. “That’s better. Keep them open, okay?”
“Please don’t…” He whimpered, a final, weak attempt that he knew wouldn’t get him anywhere. Warren was partially undressed now, he had his cock in his hand. He was already hard, Aster couldn’t keep watching but he was also scared of angering Warren so instead he looked away, up at the ceiling. His breath hitched as Warren pushed inside him, again slow, giving him time to adjust, but no amount of “care” could change what was happening here, what Warren was doing to him. He cried with the first full thrust, and Warren swore under his breath, every sound Aster made only spurred him on. He held his hips tight enough to bruise, Aster could feel him watching him, studying his face. He didn’t know if he was giving him what he wanted, if he was reacting the way he was “meant” to, he didn’t care, he just continued to stare up at the ceiling, at the dragonfly lights, tears rolling down his face.
Whumpee who wants so badly to leave their body and disassociate through the rape but Whumper just won't let them, smacking them or pulling their hair or whatever else just to keep Whumpee present in the moment. "Now, now, I know you'd rather be anywhere else Whumpee, but you're right here with me. And you're going to stay here until I'm done with you. After that you can go back to daydreaming about someone actually giving enough of a shit about you to rescue you, or whatever other ridiculous fantasy you've got going on in that head of yours."
whumpee knows what it feels like, that drifting, far away feeling where nothing really exists, not even their own body. they know what it's called. some medical professional said it to them - dissociation. it's something they've been trying to learn how to cope with, to return from gently and without panicking, to ground themself through.
not this time. this time they embrace the feeling of pulling away from the world, from reality, is a relief. it's a saving grace from what's happening to their body, the way that they're being hurt, violated, abused. raped. whumpee lets go and drifts, detaching from that vulnerable shape that they live inside, that thing that can hurt and fear and tremble and be invaded.
until a sharp pain, a loud noise, a sudden jolt of cold water over their face brings them right back into it again. they gasp and choke and heave for breath, their chest shuddering, every feeling present and alive again and amplified by their abrupt return to their body.
it happens again. and again. and again. it happens so many times that whumpee wishes that they would stop starting to drift and detach in the first place. that feeling of increasing numbness, of 'none of this is real' that had been comforting, protective at first, now makes them rigid with terror, even as they're unable to find any way to ground themself that isn't focused on what's happening to them, what's being forced inside them.
it's endless, and they feel every minute of it. whumper made sure of that.
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like most of the Whump I see has whumpees who remember everything clearly and are always crying and shi.
but what abt whumpees who dissociate heavily? Whenever they were tortured or whatever they mentally checked out of the situation, their mind somewhere far away from the pain.
and this carries over to when they’ve been rescued. Say Caretaker accidentally triggers them and instead of crying their eyes glaze over, mind already somewhere far away where they can’t be hurt
A great deal of media will tell you that Black men can ONLY be strong, sexual, powerful beings. I’m here to tell you that Black men can be soft, can be cute, can be pretty, can be sweet, can be any adjective you usually don’t associate with Blackness and the perceived masculinity of it. It’s true, I assure you
whumpee in an open-mouth gag that’s so big or cranked so wide if it’s adjustable that their mouth is just… forced obscenely open and their jaw is in agony within minutes. and it goes on and on. maybe they’re assaulted, maybe toys or some part of whumper’s body is forced down their throat. maybe it’s just a method of humiliating whumpee.
whatever the reason, it hurts. it hurts so fucking badly. and it hurts for a long time after the gag is removed, too. there’s lasting damage. the pain never quite leaves, whumpee’s jaw is exhausted and it clicks and gets stuck and it hurts, it hurts.
Whumpee who seems an alright, well-adjusted type of person, nothing clearly hidden about them, until one day they just disappear. Only then their friends, trying to find them, start digging into whumpee's past.
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two pretty little victim boys with their collars chained together.. being forced to make out for the group’s entertainment..
“cmon, stick your tongue down his throat, boy.” “make him choke.”
one of them forced to ride the other on the floor in the middle of the room with mere inches of space allowed between their collars. breathing in each others air and panting into each others mouths while the crowd gathers around them taunting them..
two pretty little victim boys with their collars chained together.. being forced to make out for the group’s entertainment..
“cmon, stick your tongue down his throat, boy.” “make him choke.”
one of them forced to ride the other on the floor in the middle of the room with mere inches of space allowed between their collars. breathing in each others air and panting into each others mouths while the crowd gathers around them taunting them..
two pretty little victim boys with their collars chained together.. being forced to make out for the group’s entertainment..
“cmon, stick your tongue down his throat, boy.” “make him choke.”
one of them forced to ride the other on the floor in the middle of the room with mere inches of space allowed between their collars. breathing in each others air and panting into each others mouths while the crowd gathers around them taunting them..
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality
Anya is LIVE right now
FREE
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
I think the idea of chemical restraint is underused in whump. Is your prisoner causing you too many problems? Fighting? Hurting themself? Why not drug them! Plenty of various substances to choose from all with their own fun side effects and consequences. Can’t plot an escape plan if they can’t think straight. The fear of the unknown horrors held in their captor’s needle. Fighting with their own mind and body.
The pure, primal fear Whumpee feels after so long in captivity/being tortured. They’re being rescued, Caretaker and their team approaching.
No, no, fuck. No—
Whumpee scrambles back, eyes wide and breaths shallow. “Don’t— don’t..” They stammer, every muscle tensed with adrenaline and fear. Too close— too close now! They scramble to the side, dodging past Caretaker and team and making a beeline for the door. They can’t think, can’t breathe can’t anything when all they see is that door. Away from these people. Then suddenly they’re on the floor and there are hands hands hands pulling at them and touching their face and patting their leg but they can’t think of that. Just out. They need to get out— up, away from them. They struggle and try and get up, hardly comprehending where they are, just that they have to get away.
Eventually, Whumpee is held down until whatever primal instinct that overtook them has gone, or at least softened. They are completely exhausted, eyes dazed, shaking like a leaf. Quiet. Like a subdued wild animal.
