Written In Blood

Lab Rats

I’ve had these characters in my mind for a while now, and I actually have a good idea of where this is going for once. So meet Noah, my OC who I plan on torturing loving a lot. 

CW: forced stripping and noncon touching (neither of them sexual), lab whump (not really, but that’s the vibe), manhandling

There was something wrong. 

Noah didn’t know what, or why, but he could feel it. It was a sharp tug in the pit of his stomach, the imaginary feel of cold fingers trailing down his spine, a want to hide, go back, give up. 

Maybe it was just anxiety for being in a new place, taking a chance he wasn’t expecting until a few days before. Maybe it was just him overacting to the change of scenario, the coldness of the too-white building, the grim vibe a lab usually had. His instincts were rarely on point anyway, usually so mixed with fear and reluctance that he didn’t know how to separate the instinct from the unease. 

So he kept walking, even though something urged him to go back.

Keep reading

Whumptober 12 - Torture | made to watch | begging

Combining with prompts from nsfwhumtober set 2 - Biting | bruises | toys | gagging

So yeah I chose a lot of prompts lol. This is where I fall off the time schedule because I write super slow. I'm not totally happy with how this turned out, but I think it's still pretty good.

CW: noncon, captivity, manhandling, broken nose, knife mention, blood mention, guns, muzzles, violence, intimate whumper, gagged, restraints, slut-shaming terms

Whumpee can't bear to look at his teammates when Whumper and his guards enter the cell. He feels his stomach twisting in knots and tumbling like a washing machine with a heavy load.

"Glad to see everyone's together," Whumper smiles. His guards assume position across from the four of them on the opposite wall. They keep still faces, it almost seems like they're not even looking at anything. The extra guards take place on the adjacent walls, guns at the ready.

Whumpee feels sick. A simple in-and-out mission should never have ended like this. They had even finished and were just making it out when they were ambushed, and even though it was nobody's fault over anyone else's, Whumpee wished he had just been caught alone.

"Screw off," Medic spits, pulling against the chain connecting his cuffs to the wall. Whumpee glances at him, then back at the guns the guards hold. He doesn't think it's a good idea to piss them or Whumper off, but the room already feels tense enough, so he doesn't say anything.

"What do you want from us?" Leader growls, a defiant glare being the only emotion he shows.

Teammate wears a stoic straight face. Whumpee tries to follow her route, but he ends up looking more spacey and scared.

Whumper barely acknowledges Leader's words with a chuckle, slowly scanning the four chained adversaries in front of him. After a few seconds, he locks eyes with Whumpee, who tries not to shrink away from the icy stare. He can't help the way he is shaking though, and Whumper notices too.

He stalks toward Whumpee, whose eyes widen. The click of his boots match Whumpee's quickening heartbeat.

When Whumper unlinks the chain connecting the shackles to the wall, Leader narrows his eyes, "What the hell are you doing?"

"Y'know, I've been feeling really pent up lately…" Whumper says, staring straight into Leader's eyes as he drags Whumpee's stunned silent form to the middle of the room, "And I'm in for a much needed… release. He's quite the eye-catcher, right?"

"Fucking creep," Medic accosts through grit teeth.

"Don't you fucking touch him," Leader joins, jerking his left side against the restraints. Whumper smiles at him, producing a knife from his pocket; only then does Whumpee snap back to reality and begin to struggle.

"Oh, I'm gonna do more than just that Leader. A pretty thing like this deserves some recognition," Whumper says. Whumpee stumbles back, tripping over his own feet as Whumper reaches for him, the hand landing on his shirt and tearing it as he crashes to the floor.

Whumper keeps going, dropping down to straddle him. He grabs the front of Whumpee's uniform pants and tugs down the zipper, unhooking his own belt after.

At this, the rest of the room catches what he means.

"No no no no, please don't," Whumpee whimpers, fighting desperately to get away, but his hands are restrained and trapped underneath him. Whumper uses the knife to cut the rest of his shirt open.

"Get the hell off him! I'll fucking kill you!" Leader yells, pulling furiously at the chains. He couldn't bear to let this happen. Medic paled, mouth agape, and he struggled harder too. Teammate stared ahead with wide, worried eyes, not knowing what to do.

Whumper slides his hands over Whumpee's exposed chest, leaning down and biting his neck.

"Stop. No, noo!" Whumpee cries.

"Bastard! Listen to me!" Leader shouts desperately, attempting to stand and pulling the shackles. Spittle flies from his mouth. He looks sort of like a rabid animal captured by hunters.

"Oh come on Leader, don't tell me you haven't thought about this, hmm?" Whumper taunts, continuing to hold down the struggling, pleading Whumpee, "I know I have."

"You motherfucker! Whumper. I swear to god if I get my hands on you-"

"Take care of him please," Whumper says with a wave of his hand, returning to remove Whumpee's pants. Immediately two of the guards stomp forward to the fighting man.

One of them pulls their rifle and slams the butt of it against Leader's face. Whumpee screams at the sickening crack that sounds.

"Stop! Please!" Teammates voice sounds.

The other guard grabs Leader by the shoulder and wrestles him to the floor on his stomach. The first guard puts a knee to his back and pulls something over his face, quieting his cursing and threats when they force a bit in his mouth and surround the bottom of his face in tight leather. Blood spills from Leader's nose and tracks over and under the muzzle.

The guard stands up, replacing their knee with a heavy boot between Leader's shoulder blades, pushing Leader's face flush to the cold concrete floor by placing the barrel of their rifle into his temple. When Leader growls the guard only pushes it in more.

"There we go, good to watch now... Back to you sweet thing." Whumper coos, unbuckling his own pants.

"Please, please don't do this," Whumpee begs. He is ignored though, and two fingers are shoved into his mouth, so far at first, he gags on them. His reflexes kick in though, and he bites down hard on the intrusion.

Whumper grunts in pain and tries to yank his hand out, but Whumpee doesn't let go, he bites down harder, tasting blood in his mouth. Only when Whumper backhands him hard does he let go.

"You little shit!" Whumper growls, making another hand motion to a guard.

"Whumper! Fucking stop! I- take me instead you asshole!” Medic yells, tugging the restraints, replacing Leaders spot annoying Whumper. Another guard aims his gun at him, barking to ‘shut up.’

Whumper leans closer to Whumpee’s face, grabbing something from the guard next to him. He nips at Whumpee's ear, blowing hot breath when he whispers, "That wasn't nice Whumpee… We can't have you biting now. As much as I love the struggle, you're going to make this easy for me and open your mouth. If not, I'll have my men fill your friends with lead, understand?"

And Whumpee, without option, opens his mouth, tears rolling down his face. He doesn't know if he'd rather look at his teammates with guns to their heads as they watch this happen to him, or at Whumper's eyes, filled with lust and malice.

His teammates watch as Whumper forces a toy into Whumpee's mouth, strapping it around his face to gag him.

"Since you don't want prep, little slut," Whumper huffs, forcing Whumpee's head back.

They watch as he grabs Whumpee's hips tight and pushes himself in. They watch as he rocks him hard into the ground. They watch as tears spill from Whumpee's eyes and listen as tortured screams come muffled from his mouth.

And they do nothing. They can't do anything but watch. It feels like hours until Whumper finally gets his fill. Leader is seething with silent anger underneath the guard's boots. He wants to strangle Whumper until he can no longer make the disgusting grunts and moans he's making now. He feels like he failed Whumpee, and it aches in him more than his now broken nose does.

Whumper releases into Whumpee with a shuddering moan and a kiss pushed into his neck. It ends in teeth and surely a bruise later. When Whumper removes himself, Whumpee feels like he pulls his soul out with him.

"You're a good fuck Whumpee, I'll have to come back," Whumper says as he buckles his belt. Whumpee just squeezes his eyes shut and whimpers.

His guards slowly file out of the room, and Whumper waits, staring into Leader's eyes as he slides his belt back through the loops of his pants.

"I hope you enjoyed the show," He says with a smirk on his face. The last two guards pointing guns at them start to move away. Leader makes one last attempt at jerking the chains, a low growl in his throat. Whumper just laughs and exits last, shutting the metal door behind him with a loud bang that resounds through the room.

Whumpee stares at the ceiling, then turns toward the wall. He cants bear to look at his team. He sobs through the gag still on his face, the stupid dildo gag the creep has forced on him. He can't get the image of Whumper's cold eyes above him, the feeling of his hands digging into his hips. He can tell the skin there will bruise. If he lets his mind wander enough, it feels like he is still inside him.

He feels embarrassed that they watched that happen. He feels like he can't curl into himself enough to stop feeling so exposed. He feels like their eyes are burning into the back of his head, judging him.

"...Whumpee?" Teammate calls. Whumpee doesn't speak, but he tries to quiet his crying, thinking maybe he's annoying them.

"Do you wanna, uhm… come over here?" She continues after the lack of response, voice sounding strangled.

Whumpee, despite his shame, turns himself over to face them. He notices her face streaked with tears and runny makeup, and after a quick glance, the other two are the same.

He struggles to crawl over to them, but manages to after a few minutes. When he reaches her, he collapses in her lap, the sobs coming back full force. She can't help but cry too, and she cranes her arms as far as she can to one side of her back, just barely able to reach his head to card through his hair softly with one hand. Though it's an uncomfortable position, she does it to hopefully make him feel a tiny bit better, like how she does to help him fall asleep.

"I'm sorry Whumpee, I'm so sorry he did that to you.” Her voice breaks as she talks; she wishes she could do more, they all do.

“Fuck! F-fuck. I-- I’ll kill that monster…” Medic mumbles, staring off toward the wall.

Leader gets himself up from his stomach, slowly as to not fall over without his arms. When he's upright, he taps the floor until he gets Whumpee’s attention. He stares into Whumpee's eyes as he attempts to make the clearest sentence possible through the muzzle still wrapped around his bloodied face, the skin on his cheekbone red and enflamed from the hit earlier.

Through the communication barrier they share, Whumpee manages to make out that he is saying he’s sorry, but not in the way that Teammate did. He sounds and looks more like he thinks he should've been able to stop this from happening. As much as Whumpee wished it didn't happen, he knows it was nobody's fault… nobody but Whumper's.

Since Whumpee can't talk either, he tries to show his thoughts the best way he can think of. He climbs into Leader's lap and buries his face into Leader's chest, hating the way Whumper has made him feel, but hoping to show Leader that he did all he could. Leader tries to ignore the hickeys on Whumpee's neck and rests his chin on the top of Whumpee's head.

Then, they are left, dread pooling in their stomachs as they wait for the next time Whumper comes back, knowing that there's nothing they can do.

It is clear to this anon that you like collar whump. Thus I humbly ask for it to happen to any of your characters, no preference who, I just wanna see it.

BLESS YOU ANON

I decided to use my Bad Caretaker series OCs :>

—

“Hey, Tobias, can I see you for a minute?”

Tobias stiffened at Isaac’s voice, glancing nervously up to where he’d poked his head into the room. He looked almost unconsciously towards Michael and Jacob, who were quietly discussing strategy over a game of chess. Michael made brief eye contact, a curious look in his eyes, but he turned back to the game.

“Sure,” Tobias said, trying to keep his voice from shaking. It still did, though, a little.

Tobias’ heart rattled in his chest as he followed Isaac back to the room. Isaac wasn’t looking at him, which meant he couldn’t gage whether he was angry or happy. Or excited. That was worse.

Isaac held the door open for him, hand brushing his back in a way that made Tobias flinch. When the door closed behind him, Tobias turned around to see Isaac smiling. His heart fell to the floorboards.

“You’re so cute when you’re panicking,” Isaac grinned, eyes flicking over Tobias’ trembling form.

Tobias ground his teeth. “Don’t call me that.”

Isaac stepped closer, watching the way he stiffened, eyes falling to the floor and turning distant. “How do you expect me to help myself, when you look like that, love?”

His breath hitched. “Stop.”

Isaac caught Tobias’ chin in his hand, tilting it up to see his face. “You know, I really don’t think I will.” He let go of him and stepped back. “On your knees, Toby. I have a surprise for you.”

With a shaky breath, the boy lowered himself to the floor, watching Isaac with big, scared eyes. “Isaac--”

He shushed him, turning to grab a bag from a drawer. Tobias watched it carefully, and Isaac rattled the bag with a teasing grin when he noticed. “What do you think it is, Toby?”

Tobias just shook his head in mute fear.

Isaac walked towards him again, running a hand through Tobias’ hair and forcing his head back before crouching down to be level with him. He set down the bag and placed his other hand over the boy's throat, just tight enough to make him feel claustrophobic.

“Your pulse is racing.” His lips curved into a devilish smile. “Take some deep breaths for me, Toby. I wouldn’t want you having a panic attack.” Isaac waited a moment while Tobias obeyed, then slowly, slowly squeezed his hand tighter.

Tobias jerked against him, but Isaac used the hand in his hair to press him back against the wall, climbing over his legs to straddle him when he tried to buck him off. Tobias’ mouth hung open in a desperate need for air, and it just made Isaac cinch his hand tighter at the sight.

“Relax. I’m not going to let you pass out,” Isaac murmured, holding his hands there for a slow count of three more seconds before finally releasing him.

Tobias choked on air, coughing and slumping forward into Isaac's chest as he tried to take in enough air to make the world stop spinning. Isaac wrapped his arms around his shaking shoulders, weaving fingers loosely through his hair. Tobias struggled weakly, trying to push away.

Isaac relented, pressing him against the wall while he reached for the bag. “You’ll have to wear a turtleneck for a few days. That’s going to bruise.”

Tobias’ throat bobbed as he swallowed.

“Do you want your surprise now, Toby?” Isaac grinned, not waiting for a response as he pulled out a leather collar with a neat buckle in the front.

Tobias jerked away in horror. “No.”

Isaac just leaned closer, emphasizing how trapped Tobias truly was. “You know I don’t like that answer, Toby. Now be good and let me put this on you.”

Tobias stared at him with glassy eyes before lowering his hands to his lap, clenched into fists. Isaac muttered “good boy” and slid it around his neck, buckling it tightly in the front so it was flush with his skin, restricting every breath ever so slightly.

“I knew you’d look good like this.” Isaac took the boy’s face in his hands and turned it gently from side to side, admiring the placement of the collar. “You’re perfect, little Toby.”

His lip trembled. “I don’t want to be,” he breathed, just barely loud enough to hear.

Isaac laughed, cinching a finger underneath the collar and watching as he struggled to breathe. “I think we both know that what you want doesn’t matter anymore.”

Climbing off of him, Isaac retrieved a leash from the bag and waggled it menacingly, drinking it Tobias’ reaction. The poor boy was pressed as close to the wall as he could make himself, shoulders heaving as he tried to breathe through the panic. His eyes were wide and glassy, horrified.

“Isaac, don’t—”

Isaac took a step towards him, feeling a thrill of pleasure when that was enough to make Tobias fall silent, helpless tears gathering in his eyes. Isaac clipped the leash onto the collar’s ring. He tugged against it, pulling the leather taut and forcing Tobias to fall to his hand and knees.

“Look at you, Toby. A perfect little pet for me.” Isaac held the leash tightly so Tobias had no chance to pull away.

“I’m not,” he said through gritted teeth, but Isaac ignored him, kneeling down to grab his jaw.

“Do you know how much I wish I could just keep you like this? If I had it my way, I’d never let you out. You’d be chained and collared at my side, crying those pretty tears for me forever. Wouldn’t you like that?”

Tobias sobbed into Isaac’s hand, and Isaac sighed happily. “I want you to see yourself, like this. How much you were meant for this.”

Standing up, Isaac pulled him forward, dragging him across the floor to a full-length mirror that was propped against the wall. He grabbed a handful of Tobias’ hair, wrenching his head up to face himself in the mirror. Isaac crouched next to him, pressing his face into the boy’s hair.

“See how good you look like this?” He muttered, feeling how Tobias quailed against him. The boy’s eyes were fixed on the mirror, tears rolling down his cheeks. He seemed frozen, unable to look away. “Can you really blame me for doing this? This is what you were made for, Toby.”

He sobbed, eyes falling closed as more tears soaked his face.

“Let’s see how a week of wearing that collar breaks you down,” Isaac said, running a hand over the smooth leather pulled tight around the boy’s neck. “And remember, no one else can see you like this. You’re mine.”

—

Bad Caretaker series taglist (lmk if you want to be added or removed): @ros-is-writing @sunflower1000 @temporary-whump-sideblog @hurting-fictional-people @madrono-but-i-am-not-a-fruit @cupcakes-and-pain @sideblogformindtrash @starnight-whump @trans-writes @freefallingup13 @chartreusephoenix @multifandoms-multishipper @firewheeesky @lave-whump @misspelledwitch @tropes-for-my-md-daydreams @journey-the-panda @shameful-indulgence @briars7 @sometouchofmadness @stab-the-son-of-a

Oh how I love defiantly obedient whumpees. The ones who do what Whumper says but are full of spite. The ones who spit out the word “sir” at the end of each sentence, or wait until Whumper goes to strike before dropping to their knees. The ones who use sarcasm and humor in the worst moments, only succeeding in pissing Whumper off more. I love the ones who do as they’re told, but ensure that Whumper must fight them each step of the way.

cw: gagged whumpee, implied kidnapping, pet whump, intimate whumper

we all love whumpees screaming and begging but what about gagged whumpees tho

- whumpee being gagged in the middle of them screaming and they’re still desperately trying to scream / get their voice out until whumper forces them to shut up

- whumpee quietly whimpering under their gag as (intimate) whumper runs their hand through their hair

- whumpers putting muzzles on their pet whumpees

- that trope where whumpee is making a recording and suddenly they’re grabbed from behind, a hand goes over their mouth and they reach out for the camera as they’re dragged away (maybe the camera falls down and whumper picks it up to smile at it before the recording ends)

- whumper stuffing something in (defiant) whumpee's mouth only to have them bite down on whumper's fingers

- defiant whumpee who refuses to shut up even though they've been gagged

- stoic whumpee biting down on their gag to suppress a scream when whumper tortures them

nsfwhump under here (warning for noncon, bad caretaker) (18+ only pls)

- whumpee whimpering under their gag as whumper fucks them and it’s music to whumper’s ears

- drool leaking out from under ball gags 👌

- bad caretaker gagging them and having their way with them in a room so nobody hears them

- a gag that keeps their mouth open so they're forced to suck cock after cock

This is more inspo from my disaster character, Arvin, than anything (I really put him through the ringer whenever I draw/write him), but I was wondering if you could possibly write a small blurb about a creepy/intimate Whumper with a heavily defiant, and stubborn Whumpee? Bonus points if a bed is involved.

(tw: tied to a bed, biting, muzzles, intimate whumper)

Whumpee glared at Whumper while they tugged at the restraints keeping them tied to the headboard, feeling like they were being burned alive under Whumper’s unforgiving gaze.

“Would you cut that out?” They snapped, tugging especially hard on the restraints. “You’re creeping me out. Stop staring at me, you freak.”

Whumper’s smile grew as they leaned on the doorframe, taking in Whumpee’s every move. “Nah.” They moved away from the doorframe and started walking to the bed. “You’re too fun to watch.”

Whumpee pushed themselves back as far as they could go, growling and trying to bite the hand that approached their jaw. Whumper took their hand away quickly, grinning. “Feisty,” they murmured, amused.

“Come any closer and I’ll bite your damn finger off,” Whumpee spat. They despised the restraints that were holding them back. It was the only thing keeping them from going all out on Whumper.

Whumper only chuckled and knelt down, searching around under the bed. “I’d love to see you try, my dear.”

Whumpee thrashed even more when they saw the muzzle in Whumper’s hand when they returned. “No! NO! Get that the fuck away from me!”

Whumper had to tackle Whumpee down to be able to secure the muzzle. They got bitten a few times in the process, earning Whumpee a swift backhand each time. Once the muzzle was fully secured, Whumper brushed their victim’s hair out of their face and admired the rage in their eyes.

“There we are. Beautiful.”

Who needs plot for whump, when sometimes it's all about the ✨aesthetics✨ of a bloodied and bruised whumpee

'You call the shots, babe I just wanna be yours'

16th hour — #2 Marked

Masterlist/ Previous

CW: themes of captivity, violence, sexual assault(not detailed) , and dehumanization.

Samuel's consciousness flickered like a sputtering candle as he awoke in the dim, grim confines of the transport truck. His limbs felt leaden, the remnants of the sedative dulling his senses. The air was thick with a pungent mix of sweat and despair.

He wasn't alone. As his vision cleared, he saw others huddled in the cramped space, their faces reflecting the same horror and helplessness that he felt.

A stifled sob drew Samuel's attention to a girl about his age, her shoulders shaking with each breath. Her eyes were red and swollen, tears carving tracks down her grimy freckled cheeks. Across from her, a boy thrashed against his cuffs, his voice a raw scream of defiance and fury.

"Fuck this! Let me out, you bastards! You can't do this to us! We're people, not animals!" His words bounced off the metal walls, unanswered.

"You fucking bastards! Let me out! Let me out!" His shoulders pounded against the walls of the truck, the sound echoing in the confined space. "I'll kill you! I'll fucking kill you all!"

In the opposite corner, another boy had a girl pinned against the side of the truck, his intentions horrifyingly clear. Her terrified whimpers and pleas for mercy filled the air. He wanted to move, to stop the atrocity, but his limbs felt like lead, the sedative still dulling his reflexes.

"N-No, please... don't..." she begged, her voice breaking.

The boy's eyes were wild, filled with a mix of panic and desire. "Shut up! We're nothing now anyways. Might as well enjoy myself for the last time."

Samuel's stomach churned with a mix of fear and revulsion. He forced himself to move, his voice a raspy whisper. "Don't."

The boy turned his head towards Samuel, his eyes narrowing in anger. "Stay out of this pretty boy."

The girl looked desperately at Samuel, tears going down her eyes. Desperation fueled his movements. He stumbled forward, his body protesting every step. He threw himself at the big-bodied boy, their bodies colliding in a tangle of limbs. They hit the floor hard, the impact jarring Samuel's already aching side.

The boy looked like he was about to punch Samuel if only his hands weren't cuffed behind him. The attacker snarled, his hands closing around Samuel's throat. "You should have stayed out of it, hero." His grip tightened, cutting off Samuel's air. Spots danced in his vision as he struggled, his hands clawing at the man's wrists.

Just when the other boy could take any other action, the truck lurched to a stop, throwing everyone off balance.

The doors swung open, blinding light flooding the space. Uniformed men began pulling the captives out one by one, their expressions devoid of compassion. The girl that was about to almost get raped by the boy mouthed a thank you though it seemed broken.

The outside world was a stark contrast to the darkness of the truck. They were in a large, enclosed compound, the high fences topped with barbed wire. The air was thick with the cries and shouts of other captives, a symphony of suffering.

He was lined up with the others, their fates hanging by a fragile thread. The compound was a cacophony of fear and confusion. Captives of all ages and backgrounds milled about, their expressions a mix of shock, anger, and hopelessness. The sobs of "I don't deserve to be here." and lifeless voices of "Why am I here...?"had filled the room.

A stern-looking man in a uniform walked down the line, his cold eyes assessing each captive with dispassionate precision. He was flanked by guards, their expressions as hard and unforgiving as the concrete beneath their feet.

"Why are you doing this to us?!!" A guy demanded, her voice shaking from anger and fear. "YOU CAN'T DO THIS TO US!!"

Somehow seeing this rose up the voices of other people, as they tried pushing and breaking the cuffs behind them. The middle-aged man simply hummed, before swishing his hand to a guard.

The uniformed man smiled looking over at the clipboard in his hand, but the smile was a cruel, empty expression. "You're 'L,'" he said, his tone filled with proffesionality.

Before he could respond, a guard stepped forward, a branding iron in his hand, its tip glowing red-hot. The boy screamed as the iron seared his flesh, the stench of burning skin filling the air. His cries echoed through the compound, a harrowing reminder of their new reality. The guy buckled to his knees with small sobs, unable to hold his weight any longer as some officers dragged him away. The branding had left a cruel "L" on his shoulder, marking him less than human.

The other captives recoiled in horror, the entire place filling with uncomfortable silence. Some were weeping openly, others staring in stunned silence. Samuel's heart pounded in his chest, his breath coming in short, panicked gasps. He knew his turn was coming, and the thought of that searing pain made his stomach churn with dread.

After a few torturing hours, his legs were basically throbbing with pain from standing for too long. The line had been going on, with the man marking with certain people as "L", "B" or "S", which was followed with agonizing screaming and crying that managed to send a flinch down Samuel's spine every time. He tried thinking about what they could've meant but every time he was interrupted by either shouting or the cracking of a taser when people became too violent.

"Step forward," the guard commanded, his eyes locking onto Samuel.

Samuel's legs felt like they were filled with lead, but he forced himself to move. He stumbled forward, his entire body trembling. The guard with the branding iron stepped up, the heat radiating from the iron making Samuel's skin prickle. The stout man looked at Samuel, and was just about to say something before Samuel cut him off.

"Can I ask something?" He blubbered out before he mentally slapped himself for thinking without speaking. The man only raised his eyebrow in question and signed his hand in a way as if to say 'go on.'

"I-Its just.. I-I thought the ones who were classified as livestock w-were the ones who were from lower class.." Samuel couldn't help but think how egoistic he must've sounded but right now that was the least of his worries.

"Samuel. Samuel Dawson. Son of Edward Dawson and Juli Wood. Mother passed away on your birth so your Father married Camila Fletcher. Your mother was classified as livestock." Samuel basically froze, his mind struggling to process what the man just said. He had been livestock by birth..?

The man simply smiled at Samuel, continuing with his now torturing claims. "Spotted many a time taking pity on livestock. Having arguments about livestock having rights. Secret letters to the government as well to consider dropping down the livestock system. My, my Mr. Dawson. And you ask why you're livestock."

The man laughed, though Samuel didn't think it was funny. "We cannot have anyone disrupting our system. It is the way it is and it will be as so in the future as well."

Before he could react, the man nodded and the guard pressed the branding iron against Samuel's shoulder. The pain was instantaneous and excruciating, a fiery agony that made him scream until his voice was raw. His vision blurred with tears, the world narrowing to the searing torment and the smell of his own burning flesh.

When the iron was pulled away, Samuel collapsed to his knees, gasping for breath. He was dimly aware of the others being branded, their screams mingling with his own. The agony in his shoulder was overwhelming, a constant, burning reminder of his new status. He looked at his shoulder, and the disgusting sight of broken flesh and blood among a red covered "L" made him want to puke.

Just when he thought it was over, the man in the uniform frowned, looking at the mark on Samuel's shoulder. He gestured to another guard, who approached with a different branding iron, this one marked with an "S".

"No no nononno!!" Samuel tried backing away. What the fuck was going on?! He already got branded! Fuck he can't do this again!!

"There's been a mistake," the man said, his voice devoid of any hint of apology or compassion. "You're not an 'L.' You're a 'S'."

Samuel barely had time to comprehend the words before the second branding iron was heated. Unlike the first guard, this one moved more methodically, examining Samuel's shoulder for a spot not marred by the initial brand.

Before Samuel could react, the second branding iron pressed against a fresh part of his shoulder, the tip glowing with the same cruel heat. The second iron seared into his flesh with a new level of agony, the pain even more unbearable as the two brands burned into his skin. He screamed again, the sound raw and primal, tears streaming down his face as he felt his consciousness waver.

Samuel's vision swam with spots, the pain overwhelming his senses. When the iron was finally removed, he collapsed completely, his body unable to take any more. His mind drifted in and out of consciousness, snippets of conversation filtering through the haze of pain.

"Get him to the holding for 'S' class." He heard someone say, but he couldn't see who it was. The words were getting more distant or was it the people who were? There was a strange ringing in his ears and he could feel something cold dripping down his arm. He tried to lift his head, to see who was speaking, but his body felt heavy and unresponsive.

The coldness spread through his veins, numbing the agony, but leaving him disoriented and weak.

Samuel's breath came in shallow gasps, his chest rising and falling with effort. His eyelids grew heavy, the world tilting dangerously around him. The voices of the guards and the other captives melted into a distant murmur, fading into the background like an elusive dream.

And then, with a final, desperate attempt to stay conscious, Samuel succumbed to the overwhelming exhaustion and pain. His body slumped forward, darkness swallowing him whole.

He had always been scared of the dark but this time he felt comfort in it. As if it was keeping it away from the troubles that seemed to keep mounting up on him.

Taglist: @anutz1234 @ash-reh @whumped-by-glitter @catnykit @morning-star-whump

@paperprinxe @octopus-reactivated @whumpdemonium @watermelons-dont-grow-on-trees @noeul-whumpppss

@nuriiz134 @fox-fox234 @carosbee @writingphoenix @carolinethedragon

@birch-pictures@fable-bug-real @possumhoe @evagran @somebody327

@someoneoninternettt @classyanchorlove @kiratheperson @boahamcock @pyromaiow

@imarandomgamer @edward-mybeloved @skribl @aleki-lives-here @roskarovio

@pentagramstars @ossknsma @abbyreader23 @cluelesscameraman @alphabet-egg

@whumpifi @cheesemctoastnuggets @deputydeputyp @thelazywitchphotographer @isntthisblank

@demetercabingreen-thumb @noeul-whumpppssssss1234(let me know if you want to be added or removed <3)

Reblogs are appreciated :)

Turning the whumpee’s head

-The whumper grabbing them roughly by the chin and forcing them to look them in the eye

-Or pulling them closer so they can cut/burn/whatever them in just the right spot

-OR carefully turning their head so they can “admire” their work, and the whumpee is either too exhausted or too conditioned to resist despite their gentle touch

-Caretaker trying to turn a semiconscious whumpee’s head to look at a face wound, but they flinch away thinking it’s the whumper

-”Don’t look at them/it. Look at me. Just me. Focus on me and everything will be okay.”

-Caretaker telling a feverish whumpee who’s lying in bed to turn their head to the side so they can hold a cold compress to the back of their neck

-Or so they can clean a wound 

y’all understand