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whumpalicious08 · 5 months

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More Public Humiliation Whump (READ WARNINGS ⚠️)

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Aka my magnum opus, in my humble opinion.

⚠️Cw⚠️ / Smoking, Drinking, Gun violence, graphic gore, minor character death, non consensual touching (over clothes), manipulation/manipulative language, religious (catholic) imagery & references, internalised shame, public humiliation, possessive behaviour

2nd person Whumpee has they/them pronouns. Brief, vague mention of area between legs, no explicit reference to any biological organs.

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Living Weapon Whumpee / Mafia Whumper.

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You find it difficult to breathe inside the pub. Smoke congeals with the air and stains the insides of your lungs.

The stench of blood is so strong it makes your mouth taste metallic.

Whumper is speaking and everything else feels quiet.

"...Kid comes waltzin' into your house, starts touchin' on your property. Can't hardly blame nobody for gettin' a little unkind."

There's a man on the floor in front of him. He's a couple years younger than you- twenty. He's studying geology, a topic that lit up his eyes endearingly. He's on his gap year.

You'd tried to warn him off you, gentle but insistent. Whumper likes you seen and not heard.

But the charming bastard had leaned in, eyes painfully kind, and he'd told you how pretty he thought your smile was. It'd been so long since anybody'd told you that.

The kid had brushed his knuckles over your wrist, coyly hiding his concern at your reaction. His compassion had distracted you.

You hadn't seen Whumper approach.

He'd dragged the kid away from the bar, away from you, and into a more open area. God, you'd forgotten to even ask his name.

You hadn't seen Whumper approach.

You don't see him now, either. You turn your face away and stare down at your drink. But the tourist's throat keeps flapping wet gurgling noises and you can't turn away your ears.

Another shot cracks through the air. Another terrible banshee cry. You count up from one silently to distract yourself.

It doesn't work, but you pretend that it does, and that's enough sometimes.

It was enough before, when Whumper had jovially condescended to the tourist and amicably levelled his shotgun at his knee.

(You'd missed the money shot. You always strive to when you can, innate coward that you are.)

Whumper loves that gun. He's always telling you that it's;

"a gorgeous weapon second only to one".

He'd won it from the Sheriff, during a poker game he'd hosted last month. The policemen in attendance tonight eye it with just as much desire as they do Whumper; the perfect power fantasy.

"Please."

The kid's warped voice rings too loudly in your head. You falter at 37 and can't start over.

Whumper does something to him that makes him hack up air like a cat, unable to scream any longer.

"Shut up and listen real fuckin' close. Whumpee is mine. Mine to touch, mine to use."

You feel the tips of your ears burn in violent shame. Your teeth feel wobbly with how hard you're clenching them.

Whumper's silent for a beat. You don't need to be facing him to know he's looking at you. "Sometimes, they're so damn good at bein' owned I get to thinkin' they like it." His tone turns jeeringly wistful, and indignation curls your hands into fists.

People's eyes and unspoken words become embedded in your skin like shrapnel. Pieces of you, of them, sting when you think you've found reprieve.

"All I'm doin' to you is some kindly teachin'. Got to set an example, you understand."

"Did- I didn't-"

You think he may be trying to say he didn't know, but it'd be futile anyway. Whumper wants an execution. The tourist begins to catch up and abandons his words for sobs.

Whumper hums in sympathy, the sound vulgar in its sincerity. "Whumpee. C'mere."

There's white hot needle points dancing over your body as you stand. The shrapnel sinks deeper as more attention shifts to you.

You find it harder and harder to avoid looking at Whumper's barbarity. The tourist's humanity entices your own; you grow unable to pretend either don't exist.

You reach Whumper's side and look down.

The bullet had shattered the kid's kneecap fully. There's a gorge where it should be; exposing jelly-like tissue the colour of pus and flesh and viscera. Dark shades of dried blood makes it look like somebody'd rubbed dirt into the gore - you can imagine Whumper doing that, tearing at the edges of the exit wound with gritty black fingernails.

His elbow is gone too, chips of shattered bone and viscous chunks of torn muscle the only remnants of it left.

You notice that the tourist's lips are moving once more, and gratefully take the opportunity to look away from the depravity. You can't hear what he's saying. Just the feverish, incoherent ramblings of a man from whom Death will have to beg for mercy.

Whumper's voice pounds against the inside of your skull like tinnitus, trying desperately to drown out the injustice he's caused.

"Kill him. Bastard's all used up." Whumper's cigarette wobbles as he snaps the order. His perverted sense of mercy makes you squeamish.

You've met people who mark their kills. Some do it to boast. Some do it to self-flagellate.

You've never had to carve anything into your bedpost. Every one of your victims live on, feeding, parasitic within you.

But this ... this boy, convulsing and begging in a pool of his own fluid; his death will be a tumour, destruction for destruction's sake.

You're suddenly not sure that you can handle another ghost.

"No."

Whumper's eyes cut into you. You used to believe he had the Devil in them. Now you don't believe there are any Gods or Demons here at all.

"Say that again?"

He's offering you an out he knows you won't take.

You lower your head, but peer up at him through your lashes, a veiled mockery of the submission he expects. He's pushed you just far enough tonight. The several shots of sickening, unidentifiable liquids coalescing in your stomach makes you too brave.

"No, Sir."

Whumper likes you brave. He'll fill your glass and enjoy the consequences.

His hand closes around your arm, fingernails ripping skin, and he roughly handles you into position. You try to jerk away, but the weight of his shotgun reminds you of his conviction.

The tourist is crying again. You can't remember if he'd ever stopped.

Whumper's chest is firm against your back. His leg parts yours sightly and he angles your body with intent, displaying you to the rest of the pub. He rests the long barrel of his gun on your hip, slowly guiding it lower. "I ain't askin', angel."

The pub's only sparsely populated today, and some people are only watching out the corners of their eyes.

But it may as well be packed to you.

Whumper lingers behind your knee purposefully; making you think he might actually do it, before he moves on again.

You feel your heartbeat everywhere; in your throat, under your fingertips, at your temples.

You feel terror everywhere, too. You think it's circulating the room, a plague of quiet fear. Endemic to the bar and your body.

The gun stops at your inner thigh.

Whumper brushes his lips against your ear. Radiant heat from his cigarette warms your clammy neck. "You'll do as you're fucking told."

He gyrates the barrel ever so slightly, a brutish imitation of a caress. Your breath hitches. I own you.

The muzzle's pointing down, safety on. He doesn't need a lethal weapon to remind you how to behave. I own you.

If you hesitate any further, it's only for a second.

Your defiance is brittle and impulsive. Your deference is always enduring.

The bitter pill Whumper feeds you settles on your tongue and makes you think maybe you do like being owned.

"I'm sorry."

The gun's driven sharply upwards, stabbing too hard even through clothing. Your ignoble cry seems to carry. He holds you in place and it hurts.

"Louder."

"I'm sorry-"

He slips his fingers down your back pocket and pulls out your revolver. He presses it into your hand and steps behind, painful pressure lifting off your back and from between your legs.

"Show me, then."

Eyes are boring into you. Whumper's, the patrons'. You hear somebody sniffling across the pub. You have the feeling there are more.

Under different circumstances you'd sneer at the pity, but the room's just seen Whumper what, assault you? Debauch you?

You're pretty damn pitiable right about now.

The tourist's lips are still fluttering. You lower yourself down on one knee to hear him better.

"...forgive thy... holy father ... mercy on me."

You glance at his neck in case you've missed anything. No cross.

You place your hand over his darting eyes, and your gun over his forehead. His mouth stops moving, and then he does too.

For one bleak moment you hope, much for the tourist's benefit and quite contrarily to your own, that there is a next life. You hope that Whumper will burn in infernal fire; searing with a fury rivalled only by the flames awaiting you.

There's more friction generated by the bullet than you'd like. Smoke from the barrel rises up, up.

Whumper's derisive words feel distant, but his fingertips gently carding through your hair seem to scald. "Wasn't so hard, was it?"

You breathe in and choke.

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#whump #emotional whump #whump writing #whumpee #pet whump #whump community #whump prompt #whump fic #whump scenario #verbal humiliation #defiant whumpee #whum

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fern-writes-whump · 10 months

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Thoughts on Field medicine?

Field medicine! you know what that means! No painkillers :D

• First of all if the poor bastard survives they are 100% getting an infection

• At least one person involved has to be freaking out

• Is whumpee constantly trying to stop caretaker from touching them? Panicking and asking them to hold on just a second! just a moment! please! - Fully aware that they need to be medicated but it just hurts. so. much.

• Or even- a delirious whumpee, so out of it that they don't even know that caretaker is trying to help so they just cry and beg for them to stop. Caretaker having to push their hands away or pin them down, feeling horrible but knowing they have no choice.

• Maybe instead whumpee is the level headed one, giving caretaker precise instructions while all they can focus on is how much their hands are shaking

• How far away are they from real help? Do they just need to hold out untill someone comes to their rescue or are the few piece of gauze and the half empty bottle of alcohol all they have to work with?

• What if they still need to be moving? They get a few minutes tops to bandage themselves up before having to run away again.

Really all I can think about is that no matter what is happening, whumpee is weak and in pain, and they have little hope for the situation to get better <3

Thank you for the ask! This is a great trope 10/10 love it

#ask #i-eat-worlds #whump #whump scenario #whump prompt #ask game #injury #field medicine trope #whumpee #caretaker #fern whumps

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lights-out-knives-out · 1 year

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Blackouts

+++++++++++++++++++++++

“HOW LONG!?!”

“Whumpee, please”

“HOW LONG HAVE I BEEN HERE CARETAKER!?”

Caretaker sighed “a year”

“A YEAR!!” Whumpee snapped “You’ve kept me trapped here for a year!”

“Whumpee, listen..” Caretaker started

“NO! You listen! I had a family!” Whumpee gestures to the tv that was still playing the news. “I had a family that loved and cherished me! I had- I HAVE a boyfriend! Who’s spending every hour of his waking day trying to find me!! And for what?! Because you wanted to play house??!”

“I bet you even caused the accident, didn’t you?” Whumpee stomped up to Caretaker prodding them in the chest. “You planned this whole thing, so I would fall into your hands.”

“Did-Did you even love me?” Whumpee hiccuped, emotions finally catching up with them “Or was that just another lie to keep me as your little pet?” They snapped

Caretaker’s hands took a hold of their face, pulling them close “Of course I love you sweetheart, why would I lie about my love?”

Whumpee squirmed, trying to wretch themselves from Caretaker’s hold. “Because- you are a Sick! Manipulative! Bastard who’s lied about everything else! And if you truly loved me, YOU’D! LET! ME! GO!!”

Whumpee blindly punched upwards, there was a crack Caretaker roared in pain dropping Whumpee and staggering backwards.

Whumpee ran. Pushed passed Caretaker who had started to recover, Ran down the hallway to the front door. Caretaker never needed to lock the door, why would they when Whumpee always behaved?

“WHUMPEE!” Caretaker yelled as Whumpee escaped into the bitter winter night.

‘Almost there’, Whumpee thought as they ran down the icy path.

But then the world shifted, Whumpee slipped, fell, head cracking against the pavement.

Freedom escaped from their fingers, as Caretaker hauled their body back into the house, their prison.

@jazatronasmr

#whump community #whump #whump writing #whump writer #bad caretaker #caretaker turned whumper #intimate whumper #amnesia #tw mentioned kidnapping #Moss Covered whump #my writing #whump prompts #winter whump #pet whump #whumpblr

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whumpingaround · 8 months

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some whumpy dialogue prompts for ya :>

Color Key:

Whumpee - Caretaker - Whumper - Extra Character(s)

“Stop it, [whumpee], you’re bleeding all over me.” “You think you have room to complain?! You’re not the one who’s bleeding out!”

“I’m so sorry about this, I’m trying to get it done quickly.” “It’s fine, [whumper] did worse to me.”

“What do you want from me?!” “Oh, I don’t want anything from you. But it’s time [catetaker] learned a lesson.”

“Get ready to catch me…” “What?” “I think I’m gonna…” *faints* “…Oh.” *just standing there like an idiot*

*holding a thermometer* “[Whumpee], you’re way too hot!” “I know, right?” “…I am this close to throwing this thermometer at you.”

“You’re telling me you’re fine?! I literally heard the bone crack, you idiot!”

“It’s barely even sprinkling, there’s no way I’ll catch a cold.” *later* “Okay, maybe the rain picked up just a little…”

“I would be taking care of you, but there’s no way I’m going near your disgusting, contagious plague.” [whumpee and caretaker at the same time] “Shut up, you bastard.”

“Are you okay?” “Take a guess.” “Yes?” “Take another guess.”

if you couldn’t tell, i love dumbass caretakers and exasperated whumpees that can’t take care of themselves

#whump #whump prompt #writing #whump tropes #sick whump #sickfic #whump scenario #injury #injury whump #hurt/comfort

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newbornwhumperfly · 10 months

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@whumpmasinjuly day 19! (list your favorite whump blogs)

@haro-whumps - their villains strike true fear into my heart and i absolutely adore the way they don’t shy away from the harsher, nastier sides of any of their characters (including the heroes), making whump that feels deeply complex and conflicting! i love their broken whumpees and sadistic whumpers and deeply human caretakers so much. galo and the group whumpee family are my first beloved whumpee ocs & ren lives rent free in my head as an all-time scary bastard! your ocs have such distinct personalities and struggles and you find such a way to make every single depiction of fear and anguish utterly unique, so every new whumpee feels fresh and exciting!

@much-ado-about-whumping - my goodness, what a fucking exquisite grasp of prose he has! i fell deeply in love with déomas from the moment i met the poor boy (as well your wonderful boy andreas) and every day am envious and admiring of bel’s skill at portraying complicated survivors! i love how you write aftermath as well, with the non-linear healing and gut-punch of lasting trauma making your whump work so unique to me! and god, if there is a mastery of non-con whump (and the realism and thrill and ache of all requisite traumas) you’ve truly grasped it with both utter sensitivity and delightful darkness (and also a profound rethinking of sexual trauma survivors for me in a very real way).

@whump-tr0pes - god, athena, so many books and every one of them rocked me to my core? your characters fucking challenge me so deeply and i love it, and your master of character development and change and growth and regression and everything is just…beautifully broken and incredible. your writing makes me uncomfortable in the best way possible and at the same time satisfied with every little arc - it’s such a gift!

@whumpthisway - first ever whump blog i followed three years ago, has been both a gateway to excellent creators and is very generous with tagging, something i deeply appreciate!

@whumpzone - cerys, your passion for engaging with your audience really warmed my heart when i started following you and i adore how engaged you made your audience feel to participate in your storytelling! you also have one of my favorite caretakers of all time in the wonderful linden! both your series are beloved rereads forever and ever, both of their storytelling progressing and developing so beautifully to natural endings. it’s so goooood.

@ashintheairlikesnow - a titan of this community, i am overawed by the sprawling scope and detail of her worldbuilding. her writing has reminded me again and again how good stories can be when you let your characters influence the world! your depictions of trauma and institutional abuse have impacted me and my thinking quite a lot, no joke, and you have a scary-good ability to capture banal evil.

@secretwhumplair - has an exquisite ability to capture fear, truly enviable how bone-deep their written terror strikes me!

@whumpster-dumpster - keeps churning out creative and inspiring prompts after all this time, i’ve gotten so many good story ideas from red!

@whumping-every-day - though absent for so long, i still absolutely adore her writing & her vampire whump (ash and callum) is absolutely top of the line in visceral brutality!

@whump-me-all-night-long - has such a good ability to balance casts of characters in her stories (my personal favorite being the jewelry box) with distinctive personalities and a wonderful imagination for new ideas!

@wolfeyedwitch - perhaps my personal favorite at writing superhero/villain whump and has such a great ability to capture the trope of team vs. outsider angst!

just a short list of the blogs that i bow in admiration and delight of every day!!! you all are so incredibly talented & i love you! 💖

#all of you get me through the goddamn day with your enthusiasm and excellence and kindness 🥰💖🥰#whump community #not whump #wij23day19 #whumpmasinjuly2023

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whumpees · 9 months

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The witcher whump list

Synopsis: Geralt of Rivia is a witcher, a mutant with special powers who kills monsters for money. The land is in a state of turmoil, due to the empire of Nilfgaard seeking to enlarge its territory. Among the refugees of this struggle is Cirilla, the Princess of Cintra, one of Nilfgaard's victims. She and Geralt share a destiny. Meanwhile, another figure looms large in Geralt's adventures: Yennefer, a sorceress.

Whumpee: Geralt played by Henry Cavill

Seasons: 3 (2019-) (24 eps)

Available on Netflix

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S01

Ep1: stabbed in the gut and grunts a little in pain

Ep2: knocked out, woke up tied up, beaten while tied

Ep3: fighting a monster, bitten in the neck, grunts, bleeds from his mouth.. slowly collapses and passes out, passed out in bed, utters a name in his sleep, wakes up startled, torso & chest bandaged, holds his side in pain

Ep5: a spell casted on him to sleep (unwillingly) because he had insomnia, sleepy, slowly closing his eyes, woke up in a preson cell chained, beaten while chained

Ep8: bitten in the leg by monsters, limping, collapses on his knees from the bite, passes out, in a carriage pulled by a horse, being talked to by the man who saved him but is delirious and in and out of consciousness, wakes up, the man grabs his wounded leg and he screams in pain, pours a potion in his wound and grunts in pain, while he's talking to the man he slows down his speech and becomes unresponsive and delirious again and the man shouts "stay awake you bastard", wakes up laying on the ground, given medicine, wakes up again, limping

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S02

Ep2: arms tied by a monster, repeatedly stabbed in the shoulder by it, ciri hugs him and he grunts in pain

Ep8: punched in the face & bleeds a little

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S03

Ep6: in a fight, stabbed in the stomach, hit in the leg and kneels, hit in the back..falls on the ground, in the water bleeding, rescued from shore

Ep7: passed out on the ground with bruised face, broken back and wounded leg, wheezing and whimpering in pain "he's not wounded, he's dying", barely able to utter few words, wheezing and groaning while talking to jaskier (i fucking love his wheezing he looks so weak and in pain)

Ep8: still wheezing and groaning, refuses to eat, asks jaskier to help him up but quickly tells him to stop cuz he's in so much pain, healer tries to heal his leg with a medicine and he screams in pain, gets up and tries to walk before he heals, limping and using a crutch to walk, a woman tries to get him to stop moving until he has healed so she kicks his crutch to show him that he's crippled and can't do anything and he screams in pain but she holds him to not fall "you'd be dead now", tries to train but he's in pain and barely able to move so she hits him again "you'd be dead now, go back to bed, witcher", limping.. trips and falls and screams in pain, yen heals him and he's in sooo much pain

#the witcher whump list #the witcher whump #Netflix whump lists #Henry Cavill whump #English whumpy shows #Netflix whump

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quietly-by-myself · 4 months

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Fearless - Chapter 8

Masterlist

Thank you to @darkthingshappen for the beta and everyone who's supported me in writing this!

Let me know if you were never added to the taglist! I haven't updated this story since May so things have fallen through the cracks.

CW: nonhuman whumper, nonhuman whumpee, dhampir whumpee, multiple whumpees, intimate whumper, major character death (whumper), human whumpee, minor character death (unnamed soldiers), racism, murder

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“Kaloyan,” Nikolay started, gathering his courage. It was harder these days, with the Dragon King treating him as lesser. “I know you told me who your father was, but,” Nikolay sighed, “but I don’t know much else about your life… before you met me.”

The truth was that it wasn’t curiosity driving Nikolay. Ever since the first war room meeting, Kaloyan had had something on his mind. Nikolay wasn’t the best listener and he knew it. He just wasn’t good with people. However, Kaloyan needed someone. That much Nikolay could tell. If he could tell, it was a dire situation.

Kaloyan looked at Nikolay, a little startled. It was always strange seeing a dhampir startled by him. Even if Kaloyan and him were bonded for life, Nikolay knew that Kaloyan was far more powerful than him, even if he held something of a key.

Ultimate Eastern-bound mage.

“Well, I,” Kaloyan hesitated. That sensitive dhampir who was Nikolay’s closest friend was hesitating, caught off guard by Nikolay’s questions. “I was raised by a servant. My mother’s pregnancy was a secret - my father and her were both cheaters. My father’s wife was infertile. That’s the reason I inherited my father’s position, despite being a bastard.”

Kaloyan took another breath, trying to calm himself. “That servant raised me in a way that my father never approved of. She taught me kindness and the value of peace. She was a former prisoner of war herself. I don’t know why my father chose her, but he killed her in front of me.

“He told me I was soft, I was weak, I was useless to him. Once she was dead, everyone, all my servant friends, turned their backs on me, afraid the same would happen to them.”

Tears formed in Kaloyan’s eyes and he bit his lip a little.

“You’re the only person who hasn’t abandoned me, Nikolay. Everyone in my life abandoned me and I ran away. Even my runaway friends left me. I know eventually, this will all come to a close and you’ll leave me, too.”

Soon, Kaloyan was sobbing. Nikolay didn’t know whether to comfort the dhampir or listen more. He thought maybe listen more, but Kaloyan kept his silence.

“Kaloyan,” Nikolay took a deep breath, finding conviction in his chest. “My village had a complicated relationship with me. They gave me the bare necessities because I’m the product of a foreign woman and a dead soldier.”

Kaloyan looked up in surprise at Nikolay, but stayed silent, allowing Nikolay to continue.

“I… I don’t look like the people in my village. I don’t look like the people where my mother is from. She had me and ran off. My father died when I was six. I loved him, but after that, my life was hell. Meeting you, Kaloyan, was the best thing that ever happened to me. Meeting you gave me a break from all that. You didn’t care what I looked like. You never treated me as less.”

Nikolay desperately tried to organize his thoughts.

“I will never abandon you, Kaloyan, if you promise the same.”

Kaloyan took Nikolay’s hand, squeezing it a little.

“Never.”

—

Nobody stood in Nikolay’s path. Rather, nobody could. Every single creature that tried to stop him fell to the ground with frozen blood. Nikolay couldn’t find it in himself to care for their lives. They were scum, stopping him from reaching the only creature that had ever truly cared for him.

Kaloyan. I have to find Kaloyan.

Kaloyan, I’m coming for you.

Nikolay could feel himself weakening with each creature he killed. The chains that Dimitar had used certainly did something to his magic, even if he’d managed to break free.

If only Kaloyan could believe in himself. If only Kaloyan understood his own power, his own strength.

Nikolay had a sort of platonic love for his dhampir, but he found himself hurting for Kaloyan beyond the pain he felt radiating off of the dhampir. Kaloyan didn’t have any confidence after their time with the Dragon King. Nikolay could think to himself all day about how brave Kaloyan was or how resilient he’d been to survive through such a difficult life - like Nikolay had. He saw so much of himself in Kaloyan. Perhaps that was why they made such great friends.

As Nikolay busted down the cell door, he saw Kaloyan lying there, shivering. He didn’t even have the strength to look up at Nikolay.

“Kaloyan!”

Eventually, Kaloyan did look up at him. Nikolay ran to his side, shaking him.

“Come on, we need to get up and leave this place. I-I killed Dimitar. There are still a lot of guards, but we can do this! Come on, Kaloyan.”

Teary-eyed, Kaloyan asked, “Don’t you hate me?”

The question caught Nikolay completely off-guard, but it shouldn’t have. “No, of course not! Kaloyan, we can talk about this later.” Nikolay couldn’t help the impatience in his voice. “We need to get out of here!”

Kaloyan opened his mouth, hesitating. Nikolay looked out the door anxiously. There were footsteps. Nikolay didn’t know how much more he had in him to fight.

“Come on!”

Kaloyan stood, weakly. Nikolay, as short as he was compared to the superhumanly tall Kaloyan, helped the dhampir up and started running, never looking back except to check that Kaloyan was still by his side.

They ran for what felt like hours, but, in reality, was likely only thirty minutes. They soon weakened. However much they wished to carry on - perhaps Nikolay more than Kaloyan - they could not. Yet, they had stumbled upon treasure in their rabid run from danger.

In front of the two was a cabin. The boards of the roof were full of holes from snow and the windows shattered. Surely, there would be somewhere inside that the two could hide, Nikolay thought. The moment they entered the cabin, the two of them fell to the ground, unable to go any farther.

Even though the cabin was an obvious hiding spot, Nikolay had the feeling that they would not be found there.

—

When Nikolay awoke, he immediately went to check for Kaloyan. Kaloyan was by his side, but the two of them laid on dirt, not wood.

Nikolay, wincing, stood and looked around. A fig grove? Dates? Peaches? Apricots? Where the hell were they?

“What’s going on?”

Kaloyan looked up at Nikolay, but immediately looked away once Nikolay looked back at him.

“Your guess is as good as mine.”

A new voice that had a certain draconic hiss filled the forest. “You’re in my domain, wanderers.”

Nikolay jumped, standing in front of Kaloyan. He was in horrific pain, but Kaloyan couldn’t defend himself, not after so much exposure to iron and silver.

Rustling leaves revealed a short human with a long braid, glasses, and a sweater. On his shoulder was an armored lizard, one that Nikolay had never seen before. The human didn’t appear very human, though. White horns peaked from his head and his eyes had a reptilian gaze. The human was a mage, an old one at that.

“Who the fuck are you?” Nikolay growled.

The mage considered them for a moment. “I am not going to hurt you. I’m not sure that my magic can.”

As the mage took a step forward, Nikolay backed up, standing closer to Kaloyan. “How can I know that for sure?”

The mage reached out a hand, offering it, palm up. “My name is Malik. As I said before, you’re in my domain. I’m not sure how you found it, but I am sincerely glad that you did.” He pushed his hand forward, Nikolay flinching back in response. “You’re wounded. Let me prove that I come in peace.”

Nikolay thought for a moment. This mage was ancient, old enough to have the power to make his own domain. There would be no way out unless Nikolay or Kaloyan could recover their magic enough to escape. For now, tempting fate and upsetting the mage would not be wise.

So, Nikolay reached his hand out, giving it to the mage. A glow of green light surrounded Nikolay’s hands and soon enough, the wounds were healed. Nikolay breathed a deep breath, moving his hand. It was scarred and his hand shook. His tendons felt tight. His hands wouldn’t be the same, but the pain was gone and the wounds no longer festered.

“Are you sure that you come in peace?”

Malik smiled a little. “I made this domain to protect wanderers who needed the service of a Northwestern-bound mage. Come, I’ll feed you two.”

—

Malik’s home was a warm place that smelled of sugar and bread. His gentle smile somehow put Nikolay at ease. Kaloyan, on the other hand, looked worse than ever. He quietly stared out with a traumatized gaze, unable to comprehend that someone was helping them, that they were safe now.

In the hearth, the golden armadillo lizard found its respite.

“The lizard is my bonded fae. Zafira. She’s a mighty ouroboros in her regular form, but she’s mellowed down a lot, as have I. She prefers this lizard form - a form she took after we traveled.”

Malik handed Nikolay a warm mug of tea. “Would your bonded like to rest?”

Nikolay looked at Kaloyan, who jumped. “Kaloyan, do you want to go lie down?”

“Is it safe?”

The question hung in the air for a moment. Malik didn’t answer, leaving it to Nikolay. Nikolay forced a smile at his traumatized friend. “It’s okay. Go rest if you need to.”

Kaloyan nodded after a moment of consideration. Malik took him to one of the guest rooms, returning shortly after. Taking the cup of tea in front of him in his hands, Malik sighed.

“You two have both been through something grave, have you not?”

Nikolay looked off to the side, warming his scarred hands on the mug. The two of them sat in silence for a moment, Nikolay thinking over what to say.

“Maybe we deserved it.”

Malik perked up. “Why would you deserve it, my good mage?”

“I’m not good. I murdered scores to get out of there. I murdered scores under the Dragon King. I burned the village down-”

Nikolay found tears in his eyes. He was safe, at least as long as the mage in front of him decided he would be. His chest heaved as he sobbed for the first time in an eternity.

“I’m an awful person. I deserved everything that happened to me.”

“Did your bonded?”

“What? No!” Nikolay glared at Malik. “He never deserved any of this.”

“You two did the same things, didn’t you? As children, no? If you deserved the tortures you went through, why doesn’t he?”

Nikolay opened his mouth to answer, but found no words. Malik was right, even if he didn’t know how Malik knew what he did.

“I have seen kingdoms come and go over the years, Nikolay. Kings come to power and die. Mortals live very short lives and they often use them for violence. In my time on this land, Nikolay, I have seen many things, but most striking to me has been violence because it’s always a cycle.”

Nikolay, wiping his tears, looked at Malik.

“How would you know?”

Malik chuckled. “I’m over a thousand years old.”

The two sat in silence before Malik started again. “Violence leads to pain and pain leads to violence. Hurt people starting wars against those that hurt them. Leaders with hurt prides attacking the ones who humiliated them. Nikolay, I’ve seen it all when it comes to violence. You do not have to continue the cycle.”

Malik took a sip of his tea before continuing. “Go, live in peace. Your tormentor is dead, as are those who followed him. Nobody will bother you anymore. Break the cycle of violence the way you’ve always wanted to.”

Tears in his eyes, Nikolay took a breath, looking at Malik. “How am I ever supposed to live a normal life after this? How am I supposed to help Kaloyan recover?”

Malik paused, thinking for a moment. “Nikolay, I cannot help you with that. Trauma is a journey. It’s one you shouldn’t travel alone, but you are not alone. You have Kaloyan. You two will find your way. I’m sure of it. There might not be a normal like what you knew before, but you will find a new one.”

Nikolay looked down at the tea he hadn’t yet touched. “What should I do, then?”

“Go and live in peace. Forge your own way. Find your own happiness with your bonded.”

Nikolay hesitated, but soon the image of Malik faded. On the floor of his old cabin, Nikolay blinked awake, a healed Kaloyan next to him. For a moment, he wondered if it had all been a dream. However, he had his scarred hands.

Those scarred hands grounded him as he cried, Kaloyan deep in sleep beside him.

===

Tags: @whumpsday, @i-can-even-burn-salad, @whumpworld, @darkthingshappen, @pigeonwhumps, @rabass, @whither-wander-whump, @whumpshaped, @espresso-depresso-system, @oddsconvert

#nonhuman whumper #nonhuman whumpee #dhampir whumpee #multiple whumpees #intimate whumper #major character death #human whumpee #minor character death #racism tw #murder tw #whump #whump writing #whumpblr #whump fic #fantasy whump #whump community #vampire whump #vampire whumpee #fearless story

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urlocalwhumper · 7 months

Text

Puppy & Kitty (pt. 1)

CWs: pet whump, literal animal people, physical abuse, multiple whumpees, female whumpee(s), male whumper

Word Count: 1036

Abducted at a young age, Puppy couldn’t remember a time when she wasn’t Puppy.

Animal hybrids like her were a hot commodity among the world’s rich and famous. They had the intelligence and lifespan of a human, along with the desirable traits of whichever animal they were mixed with.

Puppy was a dog, if you couldn’t already guess. Floppy golden ears atop her similarly blonde hair, her entire lower body covered in fluffy golden fur, a long tail jutting out from her lower back.

Dogs couldn’t read, write, or speak, so neither could Puppy. She barked, whined, and growled, like a dog should. Though Master would get mad if she was too loud, so she tried to keep that to a minimum.

Puppy had a name, it was engraved into the gold tag dangling from her collar, and it was usually what Master’s friends called her, but Master himself just called her “Puppy” most of the time, so Puppy she was.

At night, or simply whenever Master didn’t want her around the house, Puppy lived in the basement. It was cold down there, and Puppy’s fur didn’t cover her whole body, but she had her doggy bed to protect her from the freezing cement floor, so she made do.

One day, Master seemed unusually excited. Puppy stayed out of his way, curling up in a corner as small as she could get. If Master was excited, he probably didn’t want his stupid mutt getting in the way. Puppy’s stomach was still bruised from two days ago, and she didn’t want to risk throwing up on Master’s carpet and making him even angrier.

Around lunchtime, the doorbell rang. This seemed to be what Master had been anticipating, as he practically ran to answer it.

On the other side of the door stood a man holding a large pet crate. Puppy continued to stay low and out of Master's way, but she couldn't help being a little curious.

"Here you are, sir." The delivery man said, hefting the crate onto the ground, where it noticeably shook and hissed. "This one's a fresh catch, so it's not been trained properly. Hope you like the challenge."

Master seemed positively giddy. "I love a challenge."

Master signed a few papers, and then the delivery man left, leaving only Master, Puppy, and the crate.

"Now, now." He said. "Let's get a better look at you."

He opened the crate, and immediately a figure darted out, taking up an aggressive stance and hissing at him.

Puppy's nose twitched. Master's new pet was a cat hybrid, she could tell that almost immediately. She had the same physical makeup as Puppy, but was quite a bit smaller, and with feline features instead of Puppy's canine ones.

Master almost completely ignored the show of aggression, instead picking up and leisurely leafing through the file that was handed to him alongside the crate.

"Let's see - cat hybrid, female, age 18, impaired vision, fresh capture, and your name is…" He closed the file. "Interesting, interesting."

The cat hissed again, then opened her mouth and spoke.

"You're a sick bastard." She spat.

"Ah-ah-ah." Master tutted. He stepped closer to the cat, and then kicked her square in the ribs. "Pets don't talk." He scolded as she sputtered and gasped.

He knelt down to her level, roughly grabbing her hair and forcing her to look at him. "Whoever you were before means fuck all to me. You're Kitty now, and I expect you to act like it. Understand me?"

Kitty looked up at him for a moment before giving a single, fearful nod.

Master let go of her hair. "Great!" He stood up. "Now, you aren't my first or only pet. I'll leave you two to get acquainted now."

It was only then that Kitty seemed to notice Puppy, jumping back in surprise and raising her hackles.

Puppy, undaunted by the attempt at intimidation, trotted up to Kitty and nosed at her ears, pulling back when Kitty seemed to cringe away.

Puppy tilted her head from side to side, pondering, before leaning back in and licking Kitty's cheek, hoping to communicate friendliness.

Kitty didn't seem to be particularly pleased with the lick either, but at least she stopped being so tense. She took a tentative step towards Puppy, still a bit defensive, but seemingly recognizing that Puppy didn't mean her any harm.

Puppy wagged her tail, jerking her head forward to try and communicate to Kitty that she should follow her.

Kitty followed, but kept her head bowed and seemed to squint every time she did look up. Puppy led her through the house all the way down to the basement. Kitty winced at the cold stone floor against her paws, something Puppy could very much sympathize with.

The basement was dark, only lit by a single lightbulb hanging from the ceiling, which Master turned off at night. In the left corner was Puppy's doggy bed, and in the right corner were her food and water bowls, sat atop a small rubber mat. Puppy assumed that Master would bring in a similar set for Kitty in the following days.

Seemingly worn out, Kitty flopped onto the doggy bed and curled up as small as she could get, shivering in the cold air.

It took Puppy a moment to realize Kitty was crying, shoulders shaking and heaving as she muffled her whimpers against the bed, tears flowing down her cheeks.

Puppy stepped forward and whined in distress, licking the tears off of Kitty's face until she pushed her away, using the side of her hand to wipe away both her tears and Puppy's saliva.

Taking note of Kitty's continued shivering, Puppy came up with a different idea.

As gently and carefully as she could, Puppy climbed into the bed behind Kitty, curling her larger body around her in the hopes that sharing body heat would help quell the trembling.

At first, Kitty went rigid, not daring to move a muscle. But as the moments passed and the warmth from Puppy's body started to seep into hers, she relaxed, burrowing further into the bed and letting Puppy snuggle her closer.

Exhausted, afraid, yet oddly comforted, Kitty drifted off into a restless sleep.

#puppy & kitty #whump #pet whump #kidnapping #abduction #hurt/comfort #cuddling #nonhuman whumpee #multiple whumpees #female whumpee #animal people #here we go. my jnnn pet indulgence LMFAO #i intentionally didn't mention their names #and the only physical descriptors i gave are that puppy is big and blonde and kitty is small and needs glasses #to make it vague enough for more people to enjoy #but yes this is intended to be jnnn bc they have consumed by brain recently #mine

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fallenwhumpee · 3 months

Note

Hello! I’ve been rereading recently some of your stories and I must say that I really like your writing :)

So… if you don’t mind…👉👈 I have a small writing request for you (It’s cliche but I don’t care, cause I love this prompt):

Two characters are given an important task: they should steal something from a well-guarded facility. The thing is, these characters aren’t really doing well together. One of them is a little slimmer and shorter than their partner (they are also the cocky one) and they have to crawl/get into the place where the item is contained. So, the item is successfully stolen, but on the way back, the cocky character gets shot with a drugged dart or something like that. Maybe they don’t really notice at first.

The other character has to carry both the item and their not-feeling-so-well partner :3 Or will they finally use the opportunity and leave that annoying little bastard at the hands of their enemies? It’s up to you :)

Hi Anon! You flatter me <3 And please don't be shy. I love requests! (Also, let's be honest, we all love cliches. It's only a matter if its done well or not. I hope I can be on the former part.) Please enjoy my short try.

Idiot

• Masterlist •

Warnings: Drugging, abandoning.

Whumper was furious.

Whumpee was the most ridiculous, most annoying person ever. Their cockiness knew no bound (Whumper ignored that they sounded like a hypocrite— they always did).

"Are you even listening?" Whumper snarled.

"Yes, well, we have been looking at the plan for hours. It's not changing today, and it definitely won't change when I get in, too." Whumpee smiled arrogantly.

"Don't forget that the disk—"

"The disk is in a cylinder that is covered with a drug that is absorbed through skin, and we don't know what that drug does. I'll keep my gloves on." Whumpee said with a bored voice.

Whumper glared at Whumpee. This attitude was going to he the end of Whumpee. "Yes. Remember it well, idiot, or I'm leaving you there."

Whumpee smirked. Whumper wanted nothing more than wiping that arrogant smile from their face.

In less than five minutes, the black van dropped them a hundred meters away from the building. Whumper moved to the big maintenance tunnel. Though, worryingly, the space got smaller and smaller until Whumper's bulky shoulders started to touch to the sides.

"Here ends your plan," Whumpee chuckled.

"Just shut up and get the flash disk," Whumper grumbled.

Whumpee disappeared from their sight. Meanwhile, Whumper occupied themselves with exploring the other vents— they stopped just over the meeting room. When they realised that it was empty, they opened their computer and disabled the cameras there, connecting to a port as they closed the security system around the cylinder.

"Ugh. This place is so filthy." Whumpee whined.

"Stay focused." Whumper returned.

"Can't you be more understanding?" Whumpee snarled as an opening sound came. "I'm in. Just need a password."

Whumper hacked into the system again, from backdoor they left this time. It took a few minutes to find where it was stored and another few minutes to crack.

When footsteps came, Whumper left the security system as they used the table as a step stool and got back into the vent, closing the grille. Whumper let out a nervous breath when the room filled with people, but no one remarked on a change.

"Perfect." Whumpee grumbled.

"What happened?"

"The otomatic glass on the cylinder closed, and now my right glove is stuck under it. You did a perfect job, Whumper."

"It's not my fault that I had to disconnect. I'm not getting caught for your sake. And stop whining. You can get out with one glove."

Whumper heard a sigh before they heard Whumpee climb back to the vents. They meet in the middle, Whumpee carrying the cylinder in their gloved hand. They left the cylinder on the floor as they slumped and leaned to the wall of the vent.

"See? It's not a big deal." Whumper said through their gritted teeth.

"That glass could chop my fingers!" Whumpee shouted.

Whumper immediately closed their mouth, voices under them continuing to chatter undisturbed.

Whumper took the cylinder, pushing it to Whumpee's chest and snarling a shut up. Whumpee held the item with both hands before taking it with their right hand and crawling after Whumper.

They went in silence for a while before Whumper was pulled by their leg to demand attention.

"What's it again?"

Whumpee was staring at them, eyes glassy and dazed. Whumper immediately took the cylinder and helped Whumpee to lay down.

"I told you so." They murmured as Whumpee lifted their hand and failed to hold it. Whumper swore. "I'm not carrying y—"

The ground of the vent couldn't carry their weight.

Whumper groaned as they blinked, their body aching, especially their head. Whumpee was lying on the floor, unmoving.

A loud alarm wailed.

Whumper didn't think. They had told Whumpee that they would leave Whumpee there.

They grabbed the cylinder and ran.

#hi im not dead #whump #whump writing #ask #tw drugging #abandoned

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blackrosesandwhump · 2 years

Text

Uncommon Whump Tropes

I compiled the answers to my recent uncommon whump trope question into a list for everyone's reference. Enjoy!

CW: very brief mentions of teeth whump, minor whump, female whumpees, noncon body modification

Feral hissy kitten whumpees, the bitey scratchy ones who scream incoherently at their rescuer/caretaker rather than use their talking words. The ones who can’t be made to understand they’re not going to be hurt anymore

Medieval fantasy dungeon/torture chambers

Female whumpee and platonic male caretaker

When person 1 passes something to person 2, via kiss or other pda, to help P2 escape somewhere, especially if there had been some kind of prior misunderstanding between them

Good old-fashioned chloroforming

Mind control and mind control-adjacent tropes like hypnosis

Whumpers who are subtlety scary

Childhood trauma/minor whump

Whipping

Teeth whump

Older whumpees

Whumpees who aren't conventionally attractive

Non-“innocent sweetie” whumpees: bastards, confused himbos, feral ladies, baffled aristocrats, tormented monsters, traumatized immortals, frightened Everyday Gals who react by throwing things and yelling, questionable antiheroes

Whumpees who turn bitter. Whumpees who are angry and complicated. Recoveries that are tough. Caretakers that don’t know what to do because a little nice touch and sweet words aren’t enough

Captive whumpees that slowly manipulate the situation they're in, gaining enough favor and trust with the whumper till it's the right moment for the tables to be turned and whumpee can get their revenge

Snakes used on the whumpee

Female whumpees

Small whumpers

Whumpers that aren't the physically stronger ones

Whumpees who aren't honorable, who lie and scheme and cheat their way out of their bad situation

Whumpees who aren't defiant, because they're smart enough to know all that defiance will get them is more pain. They aren't stoic because they know the whumper wants to hear them begging and crying

Manipulative whumpees. They bend, pretending to break, until their whumper gives them an opening

Villain whumpers who aren’t interested in captivity. They just love to antagonize the hero, do they care about stealing or blowing up the city, no not that much. But they love getting on hero’s nerves and beating them and mentally dragging them down until they can hardly do it anymore, and then just moving onto a new hero when it gets to boring for them

Androids, or human whumpees inside mech suits that get ripped to shreds during a fight so that the circuitry is exposed

Average whumpees, whumpees who aren’t super muscular and have more realistic proportions, whether they are large, medium, or small

Caretaker with some sort of trauma already in their past, and they’re desperate to protect whumpee, who’s probably someone older. The caretaker— having been scarred and trying to grasp at any bonds they have made as comfort— takes care of the person who should probably be taking care of them, and then, when the whumper comes in and does what they know best, the caretaker goes ballistic. They do unexpected, dangerous things to themselves behind whumpee’s back. They get themselves so deep in their deals with whumper just to be able to get whumpee out, because caretaker would inflict pain on an entire continent before letting whumpee go. And when the whumpee’s out, caretaker is too far in to turn back now… maybe they’ll force the whumpee back, they’ll be safer with them anyways…

Monster whump. More claws, wings, fur, long ears, tails

More queerplatonic Whumpee/Caretaker relationships

Female whump (that isn't non-con). Ladies can break their arms and get kicked in the gut too

Being conditioned into submission and having trouble shaking it, i.e. even days after the shock collar has been removed they still almost never speak unless spoken to

Human experimentation

Unique stress positions, especially ones where the pain builds up over time

Noncon body modification, but more extreme than piercings & tattoos, e.g. wings/ears/tails/etc, or cybernetic things

Sci-fi themed whump that's not about androids

Whump involving timelines, time loops, alternate universes and other stuff like that

Physical signs of whump for supernatural whump that aren’t scars or lost body parts, like changed eye colors or new appendages or like marks on your soul

Forced mind control self-whump while the caretaker watches but doesn't know they're under mind control, or even a non-consensual situation because it's just barely mild-looking enough until the caretaker leaves because they really thought they were doing the right thing by trying to step in but they were told they were just interrupting and now they feel bad. And the whumpee has no idea what’s going on but when they come to and are being weakly willful to the whumper but they are informed that the caretaker saw and didn’t care, breaking the last part of the whumpee’s will that was barely holding out

More accidental trauma reveal

Lab whump

Lady whump (and lab lady whump)

Feral whumpees

Spitting blood

That trope where the group has to explore their loved one’s mindscape to save them and secret trauma is revealed in their memories

Being presented with a fear that is wholly mind numbing and the annoying character not poking fun at the one that's scare

“Phantom pain” but not in the traditional amputee sense, e.g. whumpee’s arm gets cut off in a corrupted video game and he still feels the pain of it IRL despite his real-life arm being intact…or alternative forms perhaps being: sharing a soul with someone and feeling the pain that they feel, characters with past lives feeling old injuries from their predecessors, or a mecha story where damage done to the mech is felt by its pilot

The plot allowing enough time for a newly disfigured character to process and grieve over their new appearance, e.g. Spiderman 3; the worst/best part is Peter did this to him, which adds that best-friends-do-permanent-damage-to-each-other-but-they-remain-good-friends layer. They could overcome that sense of betrayal, even if Harry ended up dying

Character getting kidnapped while sick

Teams saving someone from hypothermia

Colleagues as caretakers

Seizure aftercare

Dehydration after a long spell somewhere hot, like working hard outside, and whumpee doesn’t feel the heat exhaustion and dehydration creep up on them, which can lead to a fever

General extremes of heat, when someone pushes their own body to the limit and doesn’t realize until it’s too late, and their coworkers and friends have to pick up the pieces, leading to some pretty difficult conversations about looking after yourself and listening to your own needs

Whumpee leaves or disappears and after some time is found again with a big injury by caretaker with no context

Brainwashed Whumpee randomly switching between their brainwashed personality and their original one. Top tier: the original is stoic and grouchy but the brainwashed is either really goofy or lovey-dovey - and their loved ones go from finding this funny, to finding it unsettling because the original personality is reacting to it with terror

Shapeshifting whumpers. Whumpers that can effortlessly infiltrate and adapt to whumpees' friend circle even before (or after) whump. Whumpers that shapeshift into whumpee's loved ones during whump. Whumpers that basically catfish whumpee by turning into multiple different people and all "befriending" Whumpee, just to see the look on whumpee's face after the "I have friends who will find me" moment

Older pet whumpees, e.g. pets on the verge of being put down or past their prime time of use being berated for being so slow and weak and useless. Pets knowing they’re on borrowed time and knowing that their master is so merciful as to keep their worthless ass alive

Impalement through the neck/strung up by the neck

Being forced to apologize to everyone for making them worry while you were being tortured/otherwise suffering

Whumpees who aren't male and white

Redeemed villains that are too scared to ask for help and they end up hiding all their injuries from the hero(es)

TW: noncon/abuse/nsfw

Tickling, either consensually dubcon or against whumpee's will

More nsfw/dubcon (basically noncon but the whumpee doesn't really have a choice to resist)

Noncon touching (SEXUAL)

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serickswrites · 1 year

Note

Really love your whumpee and caretaker captured stories/prompts. Rediscovering the old favorite "forced to watch"-- so awesome! Thanks for the great whumperflies!!

Hello! Thank you so much! I am so glad you enjoy them. It is one of my favorite tropes lol. Especially when Caretaker is so powerless. The whumperflies are irresistible.

Please enjoy a little something something for stopping by!

Warnings: captivity, torture, drowning, forced to watch

"YOU FUCKING BASTARD LET THEM GO!" Caretaker roared from behind their cage bars.

They had been yelling at Whumper for what seemed like forever. Yelling as Whumper dragged a shaking Whumpee from Caretaker's arms. Yelling as Whumper threw Whumpee before a tub of putrid water. And yelling as Whumper continued to dunk Whumpee's head below the surface.

Whumper looked up at Caretaker and grinned as they pulled a limp Whumpee from the water. They dropped Whumpee on the ground and Whumpee took a stuttering, heaving breath. Whumper grinned, "Oh we're just getting started."

#serickswrites #whump #whumpblr #whump writing #whump community #tw captivity #tw torture #tw drowning #tw forced to watch #requests #queue

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bluenotebooks11 · 1 year

Text

whumpblr really likes intimate whumpers. that’s okay, cus i do too!! they give me whumperflies to the fullest extent ❤️❤️

that being said,

tw: intimate whumper (duh), mentions of torture and general pain, mentions of stalking, a little pinch of manipulation, lemme know if i missed something

i think that intimate whumpers are just glorious. i like that an intimate whumper fucks with whumpee’s head, cus like “ugh the bastard everything hurts now. oh? wait? they’re kinda nice… n warm… aw fuck wait now they’re hurting me again”

beyond the mindfuck, i just like me a good old-fashion creep! i want whumper to lick whumpee’s tears off their face, i want whumper to tell whumpee how beautiful they are covered in bruises, i want whumper to encourage whumpee to cry and whimper because it’s like music to their ears, just, i want a fuckin weirdo!!

but i also like the “fake lover” type thing. maybe this comes from my yandere phase, but the thought of an intimate whumper deluding themselves into thinking their horrid obsession with their victim is some kind of love. it adds some psychological whump when whumper begins blackmailing whumpee into staying by their side after they stalked them for a while and found some unsavory/embarrassing things. i also like thinking that whumper harms the people around whumpee and sets themselves up to always be able to swoop in and make it all better. but, the icing on the cake has to be when whumpee inevitably pushes too many buttons on a “passive” whumper and gets their ass whooped. bonus points if it turns into a carewhumper scenario and they’re like “ohhh i’m soooo sorry but it’s for your own good!!”

just, intimate whumpers! i like them!

#intimate whumper #whumpblr #whump #prompt-ish #word vomit #idk im just thinking #but yeah it’s good shit #whumperflies fr

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ashintheairlikesnow · 8 months

Note

I would love to see more Chris, and especially with Branch now we know that bastard is deep in the ground

Yeah, Oliver Branch is so very, very, very dead. That was a fun day for us all.

CW: Creepy whumper, intimate whumper, Oliver Branch is gross, BBU, forced alcohol consumption, minor whump (whumpee is 17), some gross implications here

"They should have a Pets Unlimited feature," His Sir muses, stirring the little stick with the olive speared through it around and around the slightly-tinted liquid in his martini glass. Baldur watches it, his mind too slow and foggy for the words to sink in immediately.

There's a delay before Baldur, kneeling on the floor before his Sir's chair, tips his chin to look up. At first, Sir is blurry and completely out of focus, but when he tries, slowly the details come together. "... a what?"

"Oh, probably not that, I'm sure they'd get sued for copyright infringement," Sir hums, picking up the toothpick and biting the olive right off, bleu cheese stuffing and all. He leans down and feeds Baldur some of the olive-stained vodka, until the boy coughs and Sir laughs at him, stabbing another olive from a little bowl on the table beside him and feeding Baldur that, too.

The squeak of olive and tang of the blue-veined cheese makes his stomach turn, but Baldur refuses to show it. He hates olives, but Sir likes them, so Baldur has to like them, too.

"But..." Sir hums, sitting back. His legs, kicked out on either side of Baldur, shift around behind him, locking his ankles to pull the boy closer, until he's pressed right up against the fabric of the chair. "You know what I mean."

Baldur has no idea whatsoever.

But he nods, slowly, keeping his eyes firmly focused on his Sir's face.

"I don't think I could afford it even if they did. Hell, for all I know the damn concept is already in place, and I'm just not rich enough or enough of the 'in group' to be offered." Sir laughs, a deep, rich, warm chuckle that runs like honey down Baldur's back, settles into his mind and smothers his thoughts. His eyes close as Sir pets fingers through his copper hair, shivering. He thinks he likes the touch.

He doesn't.

But he has to, so he does.

"Order one, keep it until I'm done with it, until you're too old, until you start to look your age... then send you back and get the next one. I'd pay for that kind of convenience, if I could. Which I can't. But wouldn't it be nice?"

These words, he knows. These words aren't honey - they are sharp and spiky, terror that has his eyes flying back open. He puts his hands on Sir's knees and shifts upwards, straightening his spine. "Sir? You... you would... send me back?"

The fear breaks through the daze he lives his days in, the only feeling he has with any strength anymore. He used to feel other things, he thinks, besides fear and the odd need that gets forced out of him. He's sure he did. Once.

"Oh, Baldur, darlin'." Sir sighs, as if he's being silly, a stupid little slut with no thoughts in his mind. He rubs a thumb along the line of Baldur's jaw, along his bottom lip, watches with amusement as Baldur tries to follow it, to somehow earn the forever that is supposed to be part of the promise of the program.

You signed up for this, and now you'll be taken care of.

"Sir..." He whispers, desperate for reassurance.

What he gets instead is Sir's smile, widening like a monster's until it feels too big for his face, and Baldur can only go still and silent as the glass is tipped against his mouth again, and the vodka burns down his throat and runs cold out of the corners of his mouth, trickling over his jaw and down his neck.

He chokes on it.

It's too much too fast, as much in his lungs as down his esophagus. He coughs, bent over with the force of it, and droplets spatter across Sir's pants and his shirt. Baldur's eyes burn, his heart pounds, and he gasps. "Oh... oh, no... Sir, I, I'm sorry-"

"Ssssshhhhh. It's all right, sweetheart, don't worry... it's all right..." Sir shakes his head. "It's okay, darlin'."

Baldur's mouth is trembling and he can't stop the little coughs that keep bubbling up, how his stomach flips and drops. He can't throw up. He can't. He'll be whipped bloody if he does, he always is when he throws up. His fingers tighten into Sir's pants until his knuckles are white as he fights the violence his stomach keeps threatening.

Sir waits, patient as a tiger watching prey take a drink at a stream, fingers moving gently through Baldur's hair, again and again.

Only when Baldur goes quiet, finally getting his body until control, does Sir murmur, "I wonder who'll find you when I'm done, and what they'll do to you, then."

His smile is soft and sweet and Baldur stares up into his eyes helplessly, hating every single second. This time, it's the vodka bottle that he forces against Baldur's lips. It's pure clear burn that he has to swallow. The world dips and spins around him, but his heart keeps racing.

"... I wonder," Sir says, voice nearly a whisper, "How long you'll live when I don't want you anymore."

God, I'm so glad that guy is dead now.

#whump #bbu #box boy #box boy universe #chris the strawberry blond romantic #baldur whump #oliver branch is gross #intimate whumper #creepy whumper #sadistic whumper #forced drinking #forced alcohol consumption #alcohol use tw #whump of a minor #just me enjoying a lovely day of Showing Once Again Why Chris Hates Olives and Martinis #and has such a strong trauma response to them

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starlit-hopes-and-dreams · 1 year

Text

Chapter 5 ~ Version 1: Bleeding out

Hidden Depths AU

Previous ~ Masterlist ~ Next

AU of AU (V.2 Game Over)

Genre: Fantasy whump

CWs: This one's also a dead dove. Specifically for gore and character death (whumper), but we also have all these other lovely things: noncon nudity, noncon touch, captivity, creepy/intimate whumper, lady whump, forced to watch, restraints, muzzled/gagged whumpee, knife whump, stabbing, lots of blood, shoulder dislocation, attempted rape/rape- could be viewed either way (not explicit), slit throat, amputation(s)- say goodbye to an important male appendage and a hand Marcus >:), gutted, more blood, all the blood, soooo much blood, uh, choking (on said appendage), asphyxiation, doing whatever it takes to get free of restraints :D

WC: 1748

Taglist: @kixngiggles

A/N: My first post of the new year, and it features a mutilated corpse. Sweet! :D

As a reward for enduring the game over version of this chapter, I present to you this wonderfully gory mess-enjoy!

Resh

Everything seemed to happen in slow motion. From the moment Marcus attacked Carr after she broke his nose to now, with Carr crumpled on the floor a few inches in front of Resh. With a fucking knife handle sticking out of her back.

Resh blinked, hoping he was hallucinating. Unfortunately, it seemed he was not. The pain in his shoulders was very real, as was the motionless figure of the girl he… gods, the girl he loved… fuck. Fuck!

“Carr, get up,” he begged. Tears slipped down his cheeks when she still didn’t move. The fractures in his heart cracked open a little wider. Gods, no, she couldn’t be dead, she couldn’t be... “Please, Carr, you have to get up. Get up, get up, get up.”

“Fucking pits, I thought you’d never stop. If I’d known, I’d’ve just stabbed you to begin with,” Marcus said, swiping his sleeve across his nose. He leaned over and plucked the knife from Carr’s body, resheathing it at his waist.

She didn’t so much as twitch, even though blood pooled in the hole left behind before spilling down her side. Godsdamn, half her body was coated in fresh and dried blood; how much did she have left to lose?

When Marcus stared down at her body, Resh hoped he was finished with her. That he would finally turn his attention to Resh and give Carr some room to recover. Because she wasn’t dead. She couldn’t be dead.

Marcus didn’t do that, though. Because why would he when he could be a sadistic bastard? Instead, he smirked and delivered a vicious kick to Carr’s side. She curled around herself, which was at least a sign of life.

If she cried out, Resh couldn’t hear it through the muzzle.

Resh wanted to scream for her, but he held it in. Barely. He yanked against the chains instead, just to feel the strain on his shoulders, the metal cutting into his wrists. He deserved the pain. It should be him lying on the floor half-dead, not her. She should’ve left him behind, escaped, but she hadn’t. And now Resh could do nothing.

He was so close; if even one hand had been free, he could’ve touched her. Instead, he was reduced to begging. Useless fucking begging, which Marcus ignored like he had every other word Resh had uttered.

Marcus kicked Carr again, flipping her onto her back. He straddled her hips. Pinned her hands above her head.

Her whole body stiffened. The faint whimper she released, along with the tears trickling down her temple into her hair, stabbed deep into Resh’s already fractured heart.

“Carr, I’m here,” Resh said brokenly. A weight descended on him, seeming to crush his chest and stall his breath in his lungs as Marcus reached down to loosen the ties on his pants. “I’m here, I’m here.”

She went limp at the sound of his voice, and Marcus laughed.

“How sweet,” Marcus said. “Your lover is here for you, to watch you get fucked by another, better man. How do you feel about that, Carr? Oh wait, I don’t care.” He raised his hips slightly to adjust himself.

Carr immediately took advantage of the lack of weight pinning her down, the leverage Marcus conveniently provided by pinning her wrists. Resh had no clue how, but somehow she pulled her body back enough to get her knee up. She slammed it into Marcus’ groin.

Marcus reared back, a high-pitched squeak emerging from his lips.

Now that her hands were free, Carr wriggled, trying to pull away. But before she could get far, Marcus unsheathed the dagger at his waist and plunged it through Carr’s shoulder, pinning her to the floor.

“No!” Resh shouted, shuddering as the knife tip scraped against stone. Something broke apart inside him at the sound of her muffled scream.

“Bitch,” Marcus growled, grabbing her hair to slam her head against the stone. Again and again, until her body went limp.

Resh could barely see through his tears. He would give anything for this not to be happening. Would trade places with her in a heartbeat. But when Carr’s dazed eyes met his, he forced himself to blink them away. All he could do was give her some kind of anchor while Marcus climbed back up her battered and bruised body.

Resh spoke to her, but he didn’t understand the words coming from his own mouth. He pulled and tugged against his chains, trying to slip his hands through the manacles. His skin tore, and more blood dripped down his arms. There was a pop and flare of red-hot pain in his right shoulder. He barely felt any of it.

He deserved it, for failing to get her out. For not being able to help.

For allowing this to happen.

For, for…

A waterfall of red splattered across Carr’s chest.

Resh blinked.

Carr wasn’t laying on the ground anymore. Marcus was.

Marcus was lying on the ground, clutching at his throat. Droplets of crimson seeped out from between his fingers.

Had she… had Carr ripped the dagger from her own shoulder? She must have. Resh sagged in his chains, trying to catch up mentally.

But he couldn’t catch up because Carr was on Marcus now, and he was suddenly minus an appendage. His scream was garbled as he choked on his own blood.

Well, not for long. Soon he was choking on something else, a piece of himself that was shoved down his throat, exactly as Carr had promised.

Despite her injuries–probably in spite of them, knowing Carr–she moved fucking fast. Resh imagined that Marcus wouldn’t live much longer with a slit throat, never mind the blood soaking through his breeches. But she clearly wasn’t done with him yet.

Resh felt a savage satisfaction that she wanted to inflict as much suffering on the prince as possible before he choked to death on his own blood. Err, dick. Before he choked to death on his own dick. Resh swallowed back the hysterical laugh that tried to break free.

Almost faster than he could follow, she moved on. Carr pried Marcus’ right hand away from his throat and pinned it to his stomach, driving the dagger through his wrist.

Marcus writhed, a disturbing wet whistle emerging from his throat with his groans while Carr quickly sawed through the joint. When she was done, she took his severed hand and shoved it inside his pants.

Resh would’ve cringed at the statement she was making, but he was so angry and heartbroken that he would’ve helped her do it if he wasn’t chained to the godsdamned fucking wall.

Then she gutted him. Ripped out his fucking insides and threw them over his face. The wet slap of pink, glistening intestine hitting the stone by Marcus’ head was…

Holy fuck. Resh wasn’t sure his eyes could get any wider. He could only imagine what Carr would say if she wasn’t muzzled.

Fuckin’ promised I would do this, didn’t I. Should’ve listened, but you’re a dumb fuck with nothin’ but shit for brains. Your loss.

Actually, Resh was pretty sure her language would be more inventive than that, but that was the best his traumatized mind could come up with at the moment.

He smiled when he realized Marcus wasn’t screaming anymore. Marcus’ body spasmed in increasingly weak motions while the stone beneath him greedily drank his blood, the bright red becoming nothing more than a rusty stain that spread in an ever-widening circle.

The next length of gut Carr threw knocked Marcus’ limp hand from his torn throat. His wide, sightless eyes were fixed on the ceiling, and what could be seen of his face was frozen in a horrified grimace. The whole thing couldn’t have taken much more than a minute, but holy gods, had it been a satisfying death to witness.

Carr reached the end of her excavation and hunched over Marcus' body, painted in blood from head to toe. Her shoulders shook.

“Carr,” Resh attempted, but his voice cracked. He cleared his throat and tried again, blinking back tears. “Carr, you did good. It’s over. I’m so fucking proud of you.”

Slowly, she looked up at him. Her hazel eyes appeared shockingly green within the red mask that covered her face.

“Does he have the key, Carr? I need to take care of you, but I can’t unless…”

Achingly slowly, looking on the verge of collapse at any second, Carr searched Marcus’ mutilated body. She pulled out a tiny silver key, barely visible in her shaking hand when she held it up to show him.

“Good! That’s good, Carr,” Resh said. It felt like he was coaxing her, which thoroughly disgusted him, but she was clearly in shock. He needed to keep her moving. If she collapsed, she could very well die of blood loss before anyone ever found them. Someone finding them would be another disaster in itself, but one he could worry about later. For now…

“Can you bring it over?” Gods, he hated asking her to move, but she was out of reach, several handspans from where he kneeled. And he was fucking helpless. Helpless to help her when she most needed it.

She did as he asked. Tears fell down her face while she dragged herself over to him, leaving trails of pink in the drying blood coating her. They were eerily similar to the rusty blood stains that sank into the stone behind her.

Resh couldn’t tell if the tears were from pain or something else. Either way, they shattered what was left of his heart.

It wasn’t until she reached him that Resh realized she was still holding the dagger. She rested her head on his thighs and brought the dagger to her cheek.

“Carr, no, stop. What are you doing?” Resh asked, frantic when she began to saw at the vines that made up the muzzle. “I can help when I’m free… stop it, Carr!”

She was slicing into her cheek along with the vine, but she didn’t seem to notice. And this time, she didn’t listen. Fresh crimson trickled over the dried, flaking blood coating her cheek.

The vine eventually snapped, and the dagger fell to the floor. Carr peeled the remnants off her face and pried the strip of fabric from her mouth. When she was done, she curled around Resh’s legs and closed her eyes.

And no amount of coaxing from him could get her to move again.

Image Description

[ID: The banner is a sepia-colored version of the original blue-green background, with tree branches arching over a set of blue-green eyes, forming an approximation of a face. The words Hidden Depths AU are written in white above the eyes. end ID]

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writinglandfill · 2 months

Text

Proposal (Seedling Prequel)

Content Warnings: Depictions of violence, kidnapping, light sexual references though non-explicit, and a major age gap between a female whumpee and a male whumper.

For my dearest, Miu,

The young woman squinted her dark brown eyes as she read the note. Words were scrawled out on coffee-stained notebook paper and the light blue lines bleed into the purplish-black ink. It was barely legible. It almost reminded her of the dumb little love notes that she and her friends would put in their crushes lockers as kids. Almost. Even the words written in a bright pink glitter pen and scented by cheap perfume was less obsessive than whatever this was. This wasn’t even a love letter: it was a proposal.

…rest assured that I do not wish to take advantage of your inexperience and pure heart, nor would I discard you afterwards, like the bastards that have plagued many fine institutions. I do not wish to penetrate your innocence either. The love I hold for you is not borne from lust, but from the unconditional love that I hold for my daughter. You are like another daughter to me. I only wish to protect you. I only wish to help you blossom into the beautiful flower that I know is deep inside of you…

The words didn’t stop. The letter was stretched across twelve pages detailing why this stranger felt the need to take her in and keep her locked away safe. By the final page, it had completely devolved into complete and other nonsense as it rambled on about roses and the prospect of immortality. Miu’s eyes narrowed before she crumbled up the paper and threw it on the floor. She slumped into the couch not quite knowing what to think of it. What could she say about it? It was the infantilization that made her blood boil. The sheer audacity for someone to make their thesis of this strange, deranged manifesto to be about how they saw her as this broken child who needed to be fixed.

The young woman started to think. At first she thought this was a joke. It had to be a joke. No one in their right mind would send something like that. Then she thought about it again: who would write that as a joke? It was too detailed and too passionate. Maybe Claudia, but this seemed too far, even for her. Then, who was it? She looked back at the envelope lying on the coffee table. It only had her name on it, nothing else.

Miu’s eyes drifted towards the white rose lying next to the envelope. It was… unnatural in its beauty. The bloom was around two to three times bigger than it would usually be. The stems were thicker too. It reminded her of the description of a rose bush that her horticulture professor had cultivated. Which then always followed a lengthy ramble about a rose bush in Arizona that enamored him due to its sheer size and longevity. The “shady lady” as he called it, over a century old.

What fascinated her most about the rose was its thorns. They curved down towards the stem and were about as big as her fingernail and as thick as a feline’s claw. She tapped at the dull part of the thorn. It felt as hard as a claw too, so it seemed more appropriate to call them such. Out of curiosity, she grabbed a strawberry out of the bowl that she was eating from earlier and pushed it against the stem. The thorns easily pierced through the fruit.

Miu took a small kitchen knife and slid it underneath the base of the thorn. She dropped the rose immediately. Blood oozed out of the stem and pooled out onto the faux wooden floor. ¨What- what the hell?¨ Miu said in a quiet, raspy breath as she slowly walked away from the bleeding flower. Its petals were quickly browning and shriveling up quicker than she could register that someone was standing right behind her.

Without looking behind her, Miu bolted towards her front door and desperately tried to open it. The intruder´s hand grabbed her shoulder and pinned her against the door. His face was covered by a white mask that looked to be made from cheap, brittle plastic. The only distinguishable feature she could see was his eyes. The eye slots were barely big enough to show the crow feet near his tired, gray eyes. A soft and familiar voice came out of the mask.

“Why are you so scared, my dearest?” He asked, moving his other hand to gently caress her olive-toned cheek. “It’s just me. I do apologize for my letter for being direct, you know I was never a man of words, but I didn’t expect to see so much anger in you. I thought you would be overjoyed by my proposal.”

“Overjoyed!? Why would I be overjoyed by that- that insane piece of-” Miu yelled before the intruder covered her mouth.

“Shhh… there’s no reason to raise your voice, my blossom. Perhaps you’ll calm down once I remove this silly little mask of mine.”

As he raised the plastic mask over his head, he smiled and ran his fingers through her thin, black hair. His eyes crinkled as he smiled. “See? Nothing to fear. It’s just you and me. Now, how about I give you some time to think about my offer, hm? I know, I know, it’s a lot to process, but I know you’ll come to the right choice.”

Yet, it didn’t make it better. Miu shook her head as she looked at the man in shock and horror. She grabbed his wrist and pushed it towards his chest. “Have you completely lost your mind? Do you not realize how inappropriate, nevermind how fucking insane this is!?”

The older man tried to protest, “Miu, please let me explain-”

“No, no, you don’t get to explain. If you don’t stop this- whatever this is- I won’t have any other choice than to report you. I don’t want to do that as you are a brilliant man and a wonderful teacher, but you need mental help.”

He looked at her for a moment. There was no apparent anger or irritation in his expression, only sadness. A deep sigh passed before he said, “then you leave me with no other options. This is for your own good.”

Before she could do anything, he grabbed a handful of her hand and yanked her towards the ground. Miu tried to kick his stomach, but he pressed his body against hers. She frantically moved her hands to his neck and tried to choke him. Her feet were pushing against his in order to turn his body to the other side. All attempts were ultimately futile as he slammed her back onto the wooden floor and pressed his entire weight against his knee that was pinned on her stomach. His hands reached for the rope in his back pocket. The older man tied her arms together first before moving down to her legs and repeating the same process.

“There, there,” The older man hushed before duct taping Miu’s mouth shut. He breathed a sigh of relief. “I’m so sorry for hurting you, but you must understand I had no other choice.”

Miu was gently picked up by the gardener and placed on the couch. He pulled her onto his lap. A gentle kiss went onto her cheek as he continued to run her fingers through her dark hair. Tears went down her face as she uselessly tried to scream through the tape.

“It’ll just be me, you, and your sisters.” The gardener whispered. “You always wanted sisters, didn’t you? Well, all of you will be together at last. No one will ever be able to lay a hand on you. Oh no, no, you will be so safe and happy with me.”

Miu cried for hours as the older man held her against his chest. He wouldn’t let go of her, not for a second. They both sat on that couch for hours as he waited for her to calm down. He sang a quiet lullaby when she stopped squirming and kissed her when she finally fell asleep. It was dark when he took her out of her run-down home and put her in his trunk. He drove off.

#the ending is rushed but we're still in the snippit writing phase #really unsure if i tagged this right so please get on my ass if I didn't #possessive whumper #creepy whumper #blood #manhandling #depicted violence #the peer review has concluded “this man is deranged and I want to kill him with rocks”#Seedling

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