**please feel free to message me any triggers you feel i have missed on any of my postings**
This is a whump fic that follows the Gelatin Hero, Soren Huxley, as his relationship with villain, Abel Goshen, goes awry.
Job Interview Gone Awry
Part One
Soren & Abel
Content Warnings: Violence, Intimate Whump, torture (emotional and physical), Non-Con touching (both non-sexual and sexual), explicit (NSFW and possible gore). More specific content warnings are at the top of each part I post.
Part one
Part two
Part three
Part four
Part 5 (coming someday )
Pokemon OC
A collection of snippets inspired by a pokemon d&d campaign we're starting April 22, 2023.
This takes place in what we're calling the Fluora Region. I will post a map, eventually, once I've finalized it. Our campaign begins in the capital city of Fluorite. The Campaign-canon section is being updated along with our game and mostly following Malcolm's POV.
The Head-canon section will be updated whenever I absolutely need to write something that isn't in the campaign
Campaign-Canon
Funeral to Culinary Love
Loss
Arriving in Fluora
Late Bloomer Seminar- Part One - Part Two (coming soon)
Head-Canon
Introductions
Taste Test
Snowball Fight
Separated by Snow (smutty)
Kitchen
Drinks with Port
Malcolm Everlong - Hero Forge
Portland Manov - Hero Forge
Mal And Port
Dori & Haco
Haco is a prominent prince in the realm of the fae. Since he's being crowned king soon, his mother has tasked him with retrieving The Heart from the human realm.
Dorian is just an average twenty-something who's about to learn that he may or may not be a sacrifice to keep the Veil (the one that keeps the Fae and Human realms separate) standing until another total eclipse happens.
Overall Content: Fae, Violence, Adult Language, SPICY, Gore, SA - individual sections will have their own content warnings.
Kidnapped
Morning Night After
Christening via reparations
Drabbles & Snippets
A collection of one shots, 2 parters, or little story bits I have posted.
A Glitch In The Program - A young hero meets his end (content warnings in post) against a sadistic villain.
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Whumper keeps Whumpee in an excessive amount of restraints (can’t move an inch for chains, collared, muzzled) to ensure that they won’t break out - even if Whumpee is completely cooperative
Whumpee who does fight back, who bites, claws, scratches, does everything they can to cause as much damage to Whumper as possible
Whumper who “has to” keep Whumpee constantly sedated
Whumpee is a danger to themself, intentionally or not, so Whumper has to protect them before they fatally injure themselves
Nonhuman Whumpee is percieved as dangerous and muzzled/shock collared before they can plead their case, if they even can
Caretaker who is scared of Whumpee!
Stranger Caretaker arriving to rescue Whumpee after defeating Whumper but hesitating when they realise who or what Whumpee is
Whumpee’s hope turning to dread as they see this, and silently begging for mercy
Whumpee who lashes out at Caretaker, who hurts then one day, and guilt hits them at full force
Whumpee who believes they’re a danger to Caretaker and takes it upon themself to remove themself from the equation
Caretsker who flinches when Whumpee moves suddenly
Whumpee wakes up after being rescued, filled with relief - only when they try to move they notice the chains, and the muzzle
Or Whumpee wakes up in a hospital but is restrained to the bed “for their own safety”
Whumpee is a living weapon or villain and everyone is scared of them - except Caretaker’s child
Whumpee who tries to be gentle and unassuming to win the favour of those around them
Slammed into the coffee table by the arm twisted around their back and whumpee chuckles, eyes looking toward whumper, though they can’t quite see them. Whumper pins their other hand to the table by the wrist.
“I upset you that bad, huh—ach!” they break off as whumper twists harder, and whumpee’s body reflexively twists away in panic and pain, but whumper stops them with a knee to their side and pushes even harder.
“Wait wait wait I’m not struggling, I’m not strugglING FUCK YOU,” whumpee gasps harshly as the pressure increases. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry! Fuck! I’m sorry, please…”
The pressure lets up just a little.
Whumpee grimaces, freezing in place, hoping they’ll release them. Whumper removes his knee from their side, and whumpee forces themselves to stay in the same position, panting with little vocal breaths that begin to come in shudders.
“Begging, are we?” Whumper grins.
Whumpee groans and stomps the back of their foot into the carpet under their legs angrily.
“Still throwing a fit?” The pressure increases and whumpee whines, unconsciously shifting away before they stop themselves and force themselves to shift back.
“Ple-hease,” they let out a single sob by accident.
“Please what?”
“I don’t know what you want from me.” A tear drips down over whumpee’s nose.
“Yes you do.” The pressure increases, whumpee struggles, the knee comes back, the twist gets harder until something pops and whumpee screams.
“I want you to stop! Please stop!” The cries sizzle through their teeth as more tears flow now.
“Shut up.” Whumper releases them a little, listening to them cry, voice breaking in sobs, gasps hitching in their shoulders. “Not like that.”
“I-I’m sorry sir, I broke the rules, I talked back, I-I—um, I’m just sorry! Okay?” Whumpee bites back another “fuck you” and adds, “I’m begging—I’m begging you to let me go!”
Their head is lifting off the glass table and whumper lets go of their wrist to slam it down by the temple.
Whumpee’s free hand clenches but they don’t move.
“I want you to remember this,” whumper says.
Whumpee wants to scream curses at them.
“Yes sir,” they say through a broken voice. Every second is agony.
“When I touch your wrist, that’s a reminder. Don’t waste my time with your bullshit again.”
Oh, so you get to curse, but I have to be little miss prissy over here.
But whumpee just cries.
“Good.” Whumper says. “It hurts, doesn’t it?”
Whumpee nods against the palm on their temple. In case that isn’t enough, they add,
“Yes, it does…”
Slowly their wrist is being released. Thank God for that. Thank God it’s slow because fucking shit, it hurts even more now. Like the injuries are just registering. Whumpee gasps and bites their lip so they don’t scream again. They don’t want to piss off whumper any more than they have. Whumper finally releases them, stepping back, and whumpee grinds their teeth at what they’re about to do, without even being told.
They get their knees under them, lean onto them, and shuffle around to face whumper, bowing and cradling their wrist.
“What do we say?” Whumper asks.
Good, he liked that. Fuck him.
Whumpee shudders, trying not to even growl in anger. Everything they feel, everything, has to be shut down or whumper will hurt them even worse.
“Th—” whumpee gasps for another breath, steeling their will. “Thank you.”
"oh, do shut up," whumper says, clamping their hand upon whumpee's jaw. the screaming devolves into helpless sobbing, their teeth chattering as they attempt to quieten themself.
with a little bit of pressure applied, their jaw is forced open wide. whumper runs their gloved finger down the smooth, wet muscle twitching in the mouth.
"or would you like me to cut this off?" whumper asks, almost gentle— in the same cadence one would peruse to inquire after someone's day, or the way they like their coffee.
whumpee freezes, any and all sounds dying in their throat.
"that's good," stroking their tongue, praising the quiet and the fear so complete that whumpee seemed to barely be breathing.
"Let's see how long you'll be able to endure," Whumper said almost conversationally as they attached electrodes to the trembling figure.
"A minute or two," Whumpee laughed nervously, cold sweat rolling down their forehead. "Maybe five if I really put my mind to it."
Whumper raises their brow.
"And how long before your sense of humor runs out too," they added matter-of-factly.
Then they stepped away and pressed the button.
A piercing scream filled the air. Electricity tore through Whumpee, arresting their muscles, burning them from the inside. They couldn't move, couldn't breathe, couldn't think!
Then abruptly, it stopped.
"Changed your mind yet?"
It took Whumpee a while to process the question.
"N-no," they replied, even as their heart kept beating wildly. "Not yet."
"Then you leave me no choice."
Whumper repeated the process again, and again, and again. Minutes stretched into hours, but Whumpee just wouldn't give up.
"How are you still holding on!?" Whumper growled in frustration.
"D-don't ask me..." Whumpee's voice was coarse. "I-I'm just as surprised as you are. But hey," they made an attempt to grin. "Keep going, you're almost there."
That last jab sent Whumper over the edge: they punched Whumpee with all of their strength, probably hurting themself as much as their captive.
Then they turned around and stormed out of the cell.
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CW: noncon touch (non-sexual), intimate/obsessive villain, injury, threats, established history between characters
@juneofdoom
*~*~*~*
There was nowhere left to run; the alley ended in brick, and Villain blocked the exit with infuriating ease.
“Go on,” Villain said, spreading their arms slightly and smiling mockingly. “Try.”
The bait was obvious. They both knew it.
Hero still lunged sideways anyway.
Villain's arm snaked around their waist before they'd made it two steps, dragging them effortlessly back into reach. A harsh shove next and Hero was sent crashing into the brick wall hard enough for stars to burst across their vision.
Before they could recover, Villain’s hand slammed beside their head, caging them in.
Hero sucked in a rattling breath.
Villain stood too close for comfort now. Rain clung to their lashes. Hero could smell smoke and steel and the faint copper tang of blood.
“You know,” Villain said thoughtfully, “I was actually starting to feel insulted.”
Hero swallowed hard, throat bobbing. “—What?”
“All that running.” Villain clutched at their chest in mock offence, wearing the smile of someone thoroughly enjoying their own performance. “After everything we’ve been through?”
Hero shoved at them.
Villain's hand closed around their wrist.
Hero jerked back. The grip didn't budge.
Without looking away, Villain lifted their captured hand and pressed their palm to their own cheek.
Hero tried to pull free.
Villain's fingers tightened.
"See?" they said softly. "Was that so difficult?"
Hero yanked uselessly against their grip. “Let go!”
“But you’ve finally stopped pretending.” Villain practically purred, tightening their hold just enough to make Hero wince. “I’ve been waiting all night for this part.”
Hero hated the way their breathing hitched.
Hated that Villain heard it too.
The alley felt unbearably narrow now. Villain seemed to fill it entirely, leaving Hero nowhere to look but at them. Hero couldn’t think around them properly when they got like this—soft-voiced and intent and terrifyingly patient.
Villain leaned closer. “Tell me something,” they murmured. “When did you realise you weren’t winning?”
Hero glared at them silently.
Villain smiled again. “Was it when I dislocated your shoulder?” They brushed their fingers lightly against Hero’s arm and Hero flinched violently before they could stop themselves. Villain’s expression sharpened with delight. “No, wait. That was later.”
“Go to hell.”
“That’s not an answer.”
Hero’s knees nearly buckled as another wave of dizziness rolled through them. Villain’s grip steadied automatically at their waist before they could fall properly.
Hero scowled. The bastard was right, but they didn’t have to rub it in!
“And yet,” the bastard Villain continued anyway, voice deceptively soft, “you’re still trying so hard not to beg.”
Hero stiffened.
A slow smile spread across Villain’s face, sharp with satisfaction.
“Oh, you hate that word, don’t you?”
Hero’s face burned with anger despite the cold rain. “I’m not begging you for shit.”
“No?” Villain asked mildly.
Their hand slid up slowly, fingers curling around Hero’s throat. Not squeezing yet, just resting there possessively enough to make Hero’s pulse jump beneath their palm.
“You always sound so pretty when you’re desperate.”
Hero’s stomach dropped.
“Don’t—”
“Do you remember last winter?” Villain interrupted, malice dancing across their face. “Warehouse district. You had a collapsed lung.” Their thumb brushed lightly against Hero’s pulse. “You could barely breathe. Kept looking at me like you thought I might actually let you die.”
Hero looked away.
Villain caught their jaw immediately and forced them back.
“Ah-ah. Stay with me.”
Their voice had gone warm now. Interested.
“You said please six times that night.”
Hero’s face twisted with humiliation. “Shut up.”
“And then,” Villain continued like they hadn’t spoken, “you grabbed my coat and said—”
“I said shut up.”
“‘Please don’t leave me here!’”
Hero shoved at them again, weaker this time. More irrational than forceful.
Villain barely moved.
“Oh, that hit a nerve.” Villain sounded delighted. “You remember.”
Hero wished they didn’t.
Villain watched the shame crawl slowly across their expression and looked damn near reverent about it.
“That’s the thing about you,” they murmured. “You act so righteous until you’re cornered.” Their grip tightened slightly against Hero’s throat. “Then suddenly you remember how badly you don’t want to die.”
Hero’s breathing had gone uneven now. They could hear it themselves. Fast and shallow and humiliatingly frightened.
Villain could definitely hear it too.
They leaned closer still. “Go on.”
Hero stared at them.
“Ask nicely.”
“No,” Hero said too quickly.
Villain’s smile turned vicious.
“Oh, that was pathetic.”
Hero’s chest tightened painfully.
They hated this.
Hated how Villain could peel them apart piece by piece until there was nothing left except raw fear and instinct and the desperate need to get out.
Villain studied them for another long moment before sighing softly.
“You know,” they said, “I was going to break your ribs.”
Hero looked up sharply at that. Villain, meanwhile, appeared far more interested in tracing the line of their throat.
“But now I’m reconsidering.” Their thumb traced Hero’s pulse again. “Because this is much more entertaining.”
Hero swallowed against the hand at their throat.
Villain watched the movement with open interest.
"Go on," Villain said quietly. "You already know what I'm asking for."
Hero closed their eyes.
The rain continued to fall. Their shoulder hurt. Their legs hurt. Everything hurt. Standing felt difficult. Thinking felt difficult. Villain's voice seemed to fill the entire alley, leaving no room for anything else.
“Please,” Hero said finally, the word scraping out broken and quiet.
Villain closed their eyes briefly like they were savouring it.
Hero immediately hated themselves for saying it.
Villain looked positively euphoric.
“Again.”
Hero’s face burned.
“...Don’t do this.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
The rain hammered against the alley around them. Somewhere far away, sirens wailed faintly through the city.
Hero’s legs shook harder.
Villain waited patiently.
They knew they’d win this eventually. The absolute certainty of it was unbearable.
Hero looked away first.
“Please,” they whispered again, voice breaking. “Just—give me another chance.”
Villain went still for half a heartbeat.
Then they laughed softly, the sound warm with genuine pleasure.“God,” they murmured. “I could listen to that for hours.”
*~*~*~*
Scribbled this in the dead of night under circumstances that my lawyer has advised me not to discuss 😡😤 am gonna whack him with his damn hammer
this was supposed to be June of Doom No. 3, but according to several unreliable sources, including "the date," it is June 7.
We are ignoring this. Anyone attempting to inform me that a week of June has already passed will be launched directly into the sun. it all leads back to that glowing bastard eventually
General taglist (lmk if you want to be added or removed! <333): @stars-hide-our-fires
Chain them, tie them, catch their clothing or a body part on something in a way they can't get free on their own.
Have your whumper pin them with their entire bodyweight.
Have multiple whumpers hold their limbs and lock their arm around their head. Hold them tight 'til they tire themselves out and the fight leaves their body.
Do they keep begging? Do they face it head-on with stoicism? Do they spit and bite and snarl? Or do they go blank and resign to the fact that there's no escaping this?
In the snow where they collapsed trying to escape, a trail of blood showing where they ran from.
Being slapped awake after losing consciousness for a second, from pain or exhaustion or injury.
Feverish or drug-hazed in whumper’s lap, a hand running slowly through their hair.
The moment a chain is fastened around their wrists, or as a collar clicks shut around their neck.
Water thrown on them or getting pinched or kicked as they slept.
As they’re yanked from their bed by the ankle.
In a cage to the sound of an auctioneer’s hammer, dozens of strangers peering at them and haggling over price.
Being kept awake by pain, unable to fall back to sleep, only able to curl up and whimper.
Startled awake by the sound of lightning, dogs barking, or whumper’s voice.
With a hand trailing along their body as whumper stalks around the table they lie on.
Waking soaked in sweat, heart pounding from a dream they’ve already forgotten.
Somewhere they didn’t fall asleep. Having the realisation that they were moved while they were unconscious and they didn’t even wake up. What else could whumper do to them before they would wake up?
Feverish, delirious, and hallucinating people who aren’t really there.
In the exact position they landed when they collapsed. Their hips are bruised from hitting the ground and their arm has gone numb and paralysed from being laid on awkwardly for hours.
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Alright so I’m about done with my first semester of music school, and I’m so brainrotted by whump and music that I can’t help but want to combine the two. I mean, I just feel like there’s so much untapped potential in here that I have yet to see!!
- Whumper who makes instruments out of really fucked up things. People have made instruments out of fossil casts before. Why not have whumper just take some from a living source? But there are so many more options than just bones. The only real limit is creativity here.
- A whumpee who is devastated because they are robbed of their creative outlet. If it’s a vocalist, maybe they’ve been made to scream their throat so raw that they just cannot sing like they used to. Maybe their tongue has been cut out or their vocal cords have sustained a permanent injury. If it’s an instrumentalist, maybe the bones in their hands are shattered, rendering them unable to play.
- A whumpee using music to self-soothe, and a whumper who notices this and absolutely ruins it. Maybe they punish whumpee every time they hum themselves a calming tune. Maybe they start to play repertoire that whumpee’s performed in the past over torture sessions, with the hopes of wrecking any good associations with performance.
- A whumper’s obsessive, parasocial relationship with well know performer whumpee.
- Musician caretaker, who sings/ plays for whumpee to help get their mind off things
- Whumpee mistaking a stranger in the audience’s face for whumper. Or maybe it really was them. Either way, whumpee is terrified to leave the stage, and spends the rest of the day looking over their shoulder
- All of the things found backstage that could be used for whump!!! Gaffers tape? Fly weights??
- An abusive teacher/ mentor. Yes, I know we’ve all seen whiplash. I just love the trope
- All of the exhibitionist things that could happen on stage during a concert/ recital.
- Musician whumper who writes songs about/ dedicated to their victims
I feel like there’s so much more out there than just this too, I’m just not an ideas gal.
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Ok so, not my normal style of writing but I'm giving this list thing a go...
Fainting Scenarios;
⚡ Physical Overload
Blood Loss
After a fight, the character staggers down an alley, clutching their side. The world tilts. They slump against the wall, eyes fluttering, and finally slide bonelessly to the ground.
Exhaustion Collapse
They’ve been running for hours, chased through streets. Their breath is ragged, chest burning. When they finally stumble into a crowd, adrenaline crashes, knees buckle, and they black out mid-step.
Pain Overload
A sudden, brutal injury (broken bone, gunshot, stab wound). At first they fight to stay present, jaw clenched, but then their face drains of color and they faint, body going limp in someone’s arms.
🧠 Psychological / Emotional
Panic Attack Pass-Out
Hyperventilation spirals out of control. Their hands go numb, vision narrows, sounds distort. They try to say “I’m fine” — but their knees give and they topple.
Trauma Trigger
They’re confronted with a scene or phrase that echoes past torture. Their body freezes, trembles, then shuts down altogether, consciousness slipping as a protective response.
Medical
Drugging/Sedation
They fight it — blinking hard, slurring words — but the sedative is too strong. Mid-sentence, their head lolls and their body drops.
Concussion Faint
After a blow to the head, they insist they’re fine, staggering forward. Mid-word, their knees buckle and they fall like a puppet with its strings cut.
Fever Collapse
Shivering and sweating, they try to stand but the illness overwhelms them. Their legs wobble, they sway, then collapse onto the nearest surface.
🎭 Dramatic Situations
Crowd Scene
Surrounded, overstimulated, their breaths quicken. Someone reaches for them — and the moment hands brush their shoulder, they faint, sending shock through the onlookers.
On the Run
Hunted and terrified, they push their body past its limit. Just when they think they’re safe, their vision flickers out and they collapse in the open, vulnerable to whoever finds them next.
when the character makes the most pathetic, heartbreaking sound after being disturbed - they got moved and it made their injury hurt, or maybe they're just so exhausted and they're trying to communicate "please let me rest" - yeah. yeah. more of that.
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