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inevitable-pretty-words · 8 months

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Content – vampire whumper, sadistic whumper, affectionate whumper, shock collar, mention of death, mention of blood drinking, dehumanizing language, noncon touch (not sexual), implied torture (doesn't happen on screen, but will happen later), threat of breaking bones

Whumpee's heart beat faster as they heard Whumper entering the room. They knew that if they just lifted their head, they would notice a wide smile on their face, revealing sharp fangs. They shivered and tried to not move, to not accidentally provoke Whumper, but they couldn't control their trembling hands.

The whole room was silent. Whumpee could only hear their uneven breathing, no footsteps or even a pleased, mocking voice. Whumper must apparently have to stand and watch them as they used to, enjoying their anxiety. And Whumpee let them. After all, being observed was definitely better than being hurt. They just foolishly hoped that Whumper would find the show satisfying or get bored and leave soon. But they knew that watching was never enough, not for Whumper who prefered making them suffer.

In one second, as Whumpee predicted, Whumper was in front of them. Their body reacted in response to the sudden threat, and Whumpee automatically covered their neck with their hands.

And Whumper didn't like it.

They put their finger on their chin and forced them to look at their face.

"What's wrong, Whumpee? You're afraid I'll bite you again?" Whumper laughed as tears began to flow down Whumpee's cheeks. "Funny little thing. Do you really think you'll win against me?"

Whumpee closed their eyes, wishing it would finally end, wishing that when they opened their eyes, Whumper would disappear from their life.

"Expose your neck" Whumper whispered to their ear.

Their voice changed. Now it was no longer amused. No, they were giving them an order and were angry that Whumpee decided not to listen.

They felt new tears coming to their eyes and trembling hands, but they still didn't move. It was better this way. Making Whumper angry was better than letting them bite them. They didn't want to feel that excruciating pain in their neck and the strength leaving their body with the blood again. They didn't want to see everything shrouded in fog and lose consciousness, thinking that this time they might die. They didn't want it at all.

So they tried to ignore Whumper, because it was the only thing they could and wanted to do.

But Whumper wasn't pleased. They placed their hands on Whumpee's and clenched them tightly, digging their nails into their skin.

Whumpee hissed, but still didn't open their eyes.

"If you don't listen to me, I'll force you to do what I want. And I'll just break your bones. Do you really prefer this than following my orders?" With each word, Whumper slowly loosened their grip and finally pulled away from Whumpee, allowing them to make their choice.

Whumpee took a few deep breaths, trying to calm down. It was over. Ignoring them was no longer possible, not when Whumper was blackmailing them. They won. Again. And Whumpee could only remove their hands to expose their neck, as Whumper wanted, and brace themself for feeling sharp fangs digging into their body.

But, to their surprise, instead of pain they only felt cold metal closing around their neck.

They opened their eyes, looking at Whumper with confusion.

Whumper smiled.

"Why are you so shocked, little thing? I only gave you a gift! You should be enjoying your new toy."

Whumper ran their hand through Whumpee's hair, who tried not to move away from the unwanted touch.

"I thought about testing this toy today instead of biting you. It's less boring than hurting your precious body only in one way, right?"

As Whumper explained things to them in that sickly-sweet voice, playing with their hair, Whumpee felt their body begin to tremble due to the rising panic.

Whumpee realized that what Whumper had planned was much worse than what Whumpee had in mind.

#whump #whumpblr #whump community #whump prompt #vampire whumper #human whumpee #sadistic whumper #affectionate whumper #shock collar #implied torture #our writing

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whumpberry-cookie · 1 year

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Okok so could you please do prompts that have to do with being in public spaces? Yknow.. when whumpee has no choice but to suffer because they r stuck out somewhere random with s conforting caretaker <33 im WEAK -🦇👓

Thank you so much for the ask! And sorry it took so long time! I had a bit of a break from tumblr. Thank you for waiting!

Public Whump

(Cw: restrains, kidnapping, shock collar, affectionate whumper, forced to lie, failed escape, arresting)

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Whumpee's arms are restrained behind their back tightly. It's a cold autumn weather, so it's nothing suspicious that a person is hugging and leading the other one that is covered with a big coat with the empty sleeves. Actually it's kinda adorable out of context! Ohh, the bigger partner must have given their own coat for the smaller partner, because they were cold! What and adorable relationship, right? The smaller one must have been so cold, because they are tearing up and shivering.

Caretaker is restrained in Whumper's basement, so Whumpee is forced to agree for everything and behave while Whumper takes them on the nice walks. Imagine Whumper doing something to cause the pain (hidden shock collar). And Whumpee knows no one should see them crying, so they hide their head in Whumper's arms and hug them tightly while whimpering in pain. Whumper just laughts and pats their back "There, there, there's no reason to cry, I'm here...".

And if Whumper at this moment just has a converstaion with some stranger, shocks Whumpee because they say something wrong and then Whumpee hugs Whumper? "Oh, you see... Whumpee doesn't like strangers..." Whumper whispers "You see... Anxiety problems, my poor sweetheart".

Imagine Whumpee losing Whumper in public space and running for their life to the closer police officer. Just to find out it's Whumper's man in fake police suit. Police officer "arrests" them and gives them back to Whumper.

Whumper takes Whumpee for a shopping. But then they meet old friend of Whumpee who turns out to work as a cashier. The friend asks a lot of questions "Whumpee, why did you drop the college? Why do you look so tired? I thought you moved out!". Whumpee feels that Whumper squeezes their forearm warningly and tries so hard to lie. But then faints out of fear. And because it's in public, Whumper has no other choice but to let the workers call an ambulance let the medics take Whumpee away.

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Is this what you meant by confronting character? If not, feel more than welcome to let me know!

I hope you liked it and thank you for your patience, cool bat anon!

#whump #whump prompt #whumpee #whumper #public whump #kidnapping #affectionate whumper #creepy whumper #whumpblr #whump writing #whump prompts #whump idea #whump ideas #failed escape #restrained #shock collar #cool bat anon #🦇🕶anon

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ziptiesnfries · 7 months

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Upstairs

kinda continued from here - Roux & Ambrose masterpost

tag list: @theelvishcowgirl @transgender-scout @gala1981

Takes place a week into Roux’s captivity

CWs: captivity, drugged food, creepy whumper, panic attack

The door creaks, and suddenly Roux is wide awake, bolting upright in bed. They blink the bleariness out of their eyes to see Ambrose standing in the doorway, the scent of bacon wafting in behind him. Despite themself, their mouth begins to water; he neglected to feed them yesterday, and now they’re sure it was on purpose. “Good morning,” he chirps. “I made you breakfast. Are you hungry?”

On cue, their stomach growls, and their face turns red. They shove the covers off their legs and hop to the floor, stumbling at the drop—they’re still not used to sleeping in a bed that’s so high off the ground.

Ambrose smiles at them, like he thinks it’s the cutest thing in the world that they’re too short to reach the floor. They want to strangle him. “Come on.” He motions them towards the door. “It’s going to get cold.”

Warily, they follow behind him. He hasn’t let them out of the bedroom yet, so they’re curious—and a little scared—to see what the rest of this place looks like.

Just beyond the door, there’s an open living room and kitchenette area, with small windows set high into the walls. Beyond the windows, all Roux can see is grass. So this is Ambrose’s basement. That explains why the bedroom—as nice and normal-looking as it is otherwise—doesn’t have any windows.

They want to keep looking around, get more familiar with their surroundings so that maybe they can find a way out, but Ambrose puts a hand on their back and guides them over to the kitchen table. There’s one place set, the plate heaped with pancakes and bacon, a glass of orange juice sitting next to it. Suddenly Roux is having a hard time concentrating on anything else.

But they’re not hungry enough to be stupid about it. They sit at the table, eyeing the plate warily. Ambrose takes the chair across from them, a perfectly innocent smile on his face. “Well?” he prompts.

Again, their stomach growls, reminding them that they can’t afford not to eat. They pick up their fork and take a small bite of bacon. That should be safe, right? It would be hard to subtly drug bacon. Unless it was cooked in something, their brain helpfully supplies. It tastes normal enough. They keep eating, trying to reassure themself that if Ambrose wanted to kill them, he would’ve done it already. But it’s not so comforting when they know that he could do a lot worse than kill them.

The way he’s watching them right now, for example, the same way he might watch a cute animal video, is a lot worse than death. “Do you have to stare at me like a fucking creep?” they ask, just before taking a tiny, tentative bite of pancake. It practically melts in their mouth; it might be the best pancake they’ve ever had. They swallow, still trying to decipher whether it tastes drugged.

Ambrose’s smile falls. “You’re very rude, sweetheart.” His expression clears quickly, though, and he rests his chin on his hand. “You’re lucky you’re so adorable.”

They glare at him, trying not to squirm under his invasive gaze. Another bite of pancake, larger this time. They wonder whether Ambrose really made this himself, but a glance behind him shows pans on the stove and utensils in the sink. Maybe the entitled rich boy does know how to cook.

They decide that the pancakes taste safe enough, and also that they’re too hungry to care. “I’m not adorable,” they finally reply as they eat another forkful of pancake. “You’re just deranged.”

It might be unwise for them to taunt their captor like that, but he just laughs. “Like I said, you’re very rude. We’ll have to work on that.” They don’t want to know what he means by that. Hopefully they’ll be out of here long before they find out.

They finally get around to the orange juice. One tiny sip, and they’re already sure it tastes wrong, something extra under the tanginess. But they keep their expression indifferent as they swallow, putting the glass down. They’re not drinking any more of that.

Then the first wave of dizziness washes over them, and they almost drop their fork. What the hell? They blink, trying to snap themself out of it, hoping desperately that it’s a fluke. Then they start feeling a little drowsy, their muscles weakening, and they know it’s not. But they only drank a tiny little bit of the orange juice—that wouldn’t be enough to do this to them. Would it?

A slow, pleased smile spreads across Ambrose’s face as he notices. “Something wrong, sweetheart?”

They grip the edge of the table, partially out of rage, and partially to keep themself balanced. “What did you do?” they hiss.

“Oh, well, I did put a light sedative in those pancakes. Just something to keep you calm.” Right now, they feel anything but calm. Their vision is getting blurry, and they don’t even realize they’re listing to the side until Ambrose reaches across the table to steady them. He quickly gets up to help them out of their chair. “Careful, there. No need to panic; I’m not going to hurt you.”

They shove him away, but it makes them lose their balance. Suddenly they’re sitting on the floor with Ambrose looming over them. He scoops them up in his arms. “Let … let go of me.” They try to claw at him, but their muscles feel so weak.

“Shh, it’s okay.” He bounces them a little, like he’s trying to calm a baby, as he carries them across the basement. “I just wanted to take you upstairs with me, and I couldn’t have you running off. You don’t have to do anything, okay? Just relax.”

“Put me down,” they whine, but they’re already going limp in his arms, their head lolling against his chest.

Ambrose carries them to the back of the basement and up a flight of stairs. Part of them wants to just close their eyes, give into the drowsiness, but they force themself to pay attention. Maybe this is finally their chance to figure out how to get out of here … Ambrose nudges open a door at the top of the stairs, emerging into a hallway with dark wood paneling. Once he starts moving, though, all sense of clarity is lost. The space passes Roux by in blurs of dark wood, gilded paintings, brass light fixtures … It makes them dizzy, trying to watch it all blur by. Finally, the nausea forces them to close their eyes.

A door creaks, and a moment later, Ambrose sets Roux down on a soft surface. Their eyes crack open long enough to see him leaning over them, with the vague outline of a wall of bookshelves in the background. He gently lifts their head to slide a pillow underneath, and they feel like a ragdoll in his hands, too drugged up to move a muscle. “I’ll just be working at my desk.” He strokes their hair, and although it makes their skin crawl, they can’t find the strength to flinch away. “Let me know if you need anything, sweetheart.”

“Fuck you.” It’s hard to put any venom behind the words, but they try.

He pats their cheek as he stands up. “We’ll work on your attitude problem later.” Their eyes slip shut as his footsteps recede.

Without much else to do, they doze. Occasionally, briefly, they try to look around, but moving their eyes too much still makes their head spin. Judging by the bookshelves and the desk across from where they’re lying, they gather that this is some kind of office. Or, rather, a study; someone as pretentious as Ambrose would probably call it a study.

For a while, the only noises are typing and quiet sighs from Ambrose. Roux tries to sleep, tries not to think about the fact that he only brought them up here to stare at them. What a fucking creep. At least they know how to get out of the basement now, but the information isn’t doing them much good in this condition. Maybe another time, though, when Ambrose trusts them enough not to drug them … they don’t know how they’re going to build that trust. They don’t even want to be here long enough for that, really, but unless they get really lucky, they doubt they’ll get an opening. He’s had them locked in the basement for the past week; he’s being careful. But maybe they can find something to pick the lock with, and maybe there’s some other way out of the basement, like a cellar door …

The soft sound of rain against the window panes snaps Roux out of their sleepy ponderings. Their stomach jolts, and they take a deep, shaky breath. It’s just rain, they reassure themself. Nothing to worry about. It’s not like it’s—

A low rumble starts up in the distance, and the blood freezes in their veins. They squeeze their eyes shut and take another breath. Please, not here, not now. Not in front of—

The thunder gets louder, and they swear they hear the windows rattle. A whimper slips past their lips, and the show of weakness makes them wince, even with the panic setting in.

“Roux?” Ambrose’s chair creaks. “What’s wrong?” They open their mouth to respond, but another rumble of thunder cuts them off. Their breath hitches as they tighten their arms across their chest, like that’ll keep their heart from pounding out of control. “Oh.” He laughs a little. “It’s just thunder, sweetheart. It won’t hurt you.”

That’s what everyone says. That’s what people have been telling Roux since they were a little kid, hiding under the bed with their ears covered to escape a storm. But knowing that it won’t hurt them doesn’t stop their heart from pounding, their chest constricting, their head going fuzzy every time they hear thunder in the distance. It may be true that thunder is only a sound, that it can’t hurt them. But the lightning? That will hurt them. The fact that it never has before doesn’t stop the gut-churning certainty that it’s going to kill them.

As if on cue, right as they open their eyes, a flash of light illuminates the bookshelves. Their chest constricts, and they begin to sob.

“Oh, sweetheart …” They hear Ambrose hurrying over, but the sound is quickly muffled as they clamp their hands over their ears and curl into a ball. Part of them is mortified to be doing this in front of Ambrose, exposing a weakness he could use against them. They desperately want to stop crying, but their body won’t let them. Every flash of light they see from behind their eyelids—even if they know it’s just their eyes playing tricks on them—sends them into hysterics all over again.

Ambrose gently lifts them up to sit beside them, but even that doesn’t snap them out of it. He pets their hair, pulling their head into his lap, and they can vaguely hear him murmuring reassurances, but the low rumble of his voice just sounds like more thunder. They can’t stop crying, can’t even control their limbs enough to pull away. They feel mortified and pathetic as they sob into his shirt and let him hold them, even though all he’s doing is making them feel worse.

Finally, he scoops them up into his arms and carries them out of the room. It’s almost a relief to be out of the study, if only because it means they’re farther away from the windows—Although the lightning could always strike the house and burn it down, their brain helpfully adds in. They grit their teeth and bury their face in Ambrose’s shirt. It’s a relief when he takes them back the way they came, back down into the basement, with its lack of windows and relative sound insulation.

He sets them down on the bed, and they curl into a ball, tentatively removing their hands from their ears. Right now, they can’t hear any thunder, but they don’t think being in the basement would completely block out the sound anyway. They’re still tense, ready for it to start up again.

The bed dips as Ambrose sits beside them, rubbing their back. “So,” he says lightly, “you’re afraid of storms?”

They jerk away. “Shut up,” they hiss, their voice thick with tears. “Just shut the fuck up.”

His hand chases after them, and he continues rubbing their back. They grit their teeth and begrudgingly allow it—they’re too exhausted and drugged to keep squirming away from him. “It’s alright, sweetheart. Everyone’s afraid of something, aren’t they?”

“I said, shut up.” Their face burns with humiliation. This is why they didn’t want to do this in front of him—because he’s so goddamn smug about it, using it as an excuse to get closer to them, to baby them.

“I hate to tell you this,” he says, “but there are a few storms in the forecast for this week.” They know he’s just trying to get a reaction out of them, but still, their whole body goes rigid. “But don’t worry, sweetheart,” he continues, “you’re perfectly safe down here. Maybe we’ll hold off on having you hang out upstairs for a little while.”

They’re too exhausted to argue with him or to retort that they’re anything but safe down here. They bury their face in a pillow and let him pretend to comfort them.

#whump #whump writing #creepy whumper #affectionate whumper #captivity #drugging tw #sedation #panic attack tw #i feel unwell so here have a thing #also feel free to ask to be added or removed from the tag list #i haven't done tag lists in a while so HOPEFULLY i will remember to actually tag people in new pieces lol #oc: roux #oc: ambrose lacrosse #roux & ambrose #zipwrites

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otherworldly-whump · 9 months

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Whumpee being forced by whumper to hit after hit on a THC vape all night before their allowed any food for the evening. Just watched amused by whumper as they get more and more out of it. By the time whumpe us handed food, its much less likely they'll refuse to eat, and their so out of it that its easy for whumper to push them around or force them to cuddle.

#whump #whumpee #whumper #whumpblr #casual whumper #affectionate whumper #my post: unity #otherworldly writes #new writer here #dont have a tag yet #but im connected to writer green #and ill be handling one of ranger greens whumpers

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whumpering-heights · 1 year

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I usually don't post fanart here, let alone stuff from my own (wip) AU fanfic. However, the story is turning into such a whump goldmine, i felt compelled to share.

#i prefer to keep my online social spheres seperate #so i wont tag the original work the AU is based off (its a very small fandom)#but I might repost it here... idk i dont see much fanwork whump idk what the etiquette is #anyway enjoy these contextless pictures for now! ^^#whump #whump art #whumpblr #my stuff #my art #guarddog AU #(just in case ill post more)#affectionate whumper #nosebleed #blood cw #(also this is a wip i gotta add some stuff still. but i want validation NOW lol/j)#whumpee #female whumper

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seetheothersideofparadise · 2 years

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Pretty Fangs: How Times Have Changed

An introduction to an ongoing series I’ll be doing! Pretty Fangs, a Series about a Human and his Pet Vampire

While both use He/Him, whenever the Human Whumper has the POV or refers to the Vampire Whumpee, he always uses It/Its in a dehumanizing way.

Tags for this part (I’ll do more for the whole series later) are: Vampire Whumpee, Pet Whump, Human Whumper, Obedient Whumpee, Chains, Worldbuilding, Affectionate Whumper, Whumper POV, Dehumanization, Semi-Institutionalized Pets, Touchy Whumper, Conditioning

— — —

Vampires were once considered ‘Creatures of the Night’ and something to be feared. It used to be dangerous to go out at night, even in groups. ‘Vampire’ was once a word that struck fear in the hearts of many.

Mathias now looks back at those days and chuckles softly to himself. So strange, to think that vampires had once been anything but pets or vermin.

Nowadays, the common vampire lives and is treated like nothing but a rat or stray. The city has been making an effort to clean up the streets recently, doing constant sweeps to round up any loose vampires on the streets and send them to local containment facilities, varying on just how feral they are. Places to keep them until they can either be properly trained to be put in pet shops, or picked up by trainees like Mathias himself.

Though, unlike most trainees, Mathias only takes on one at a time. Quality over quantity after all. People pay thousands for the kind of vampires he puts on the market, always so well trained but also lacking any lasting marks from said training. His vampires aren’t some common street rats but rather, the type you could enter in a show.

It’s been a long time since Mathias has ever wanted to keep one for himself but his most recent one? It’s bloomed so beautifully that he thinks he’ll keep it around.

It stands by his fireplace, in perfect form as always. Golden, padded chains begin at the jewel studded collar on its neck and run all the way down to its wrists. It’s hands are resting on its stomach, unable to stretch out fully even if it wanted to due to the limited length of the chains. Though, because of how the arm is positioned, the extra length of chain hangs loosely, giving it a nice J shaped loop.

Claw Caps cover the otherwise hideous nails with a soft rose gold color, and it’s long, white hair has been combed and straightened out. Brilliant red eyes stare straight ahead at the wall, not making eye contact since it’s not being addressed, just like how a good pet should act. And of course, luxury pet like this one has been outfitted with a frilled white shirt, a forest green ribbon, dark pants, and boots that make an audible ‘Clack’ wherever they walk. It’s important for Mathias to know it’s every move, even if he’s certain it won’t run from him. Not anymore.

It’s truly an exquisite thing. Mathias hasn’t been able to bring it out of the house when it was still in training but there’s a gala coming up soon. He could have it’s grand debut there, though many will be disappointed to hear it won’t be for sale. None of them will argue though, one look at his new vampire and they’ll all understand. White hair is rare in vampires after all, and with how pretty it is? Of course he couldn’t let it go.

Mathias’ eyes traces over every detail of his pet, admiring every bit of his work. It doesn’t react if it notices, continuing to stare ahead. Such a good pet, he thinks. It’s come so far from the skittish street rat he found before. He’s so very proud.

“Pearl?” Mathias addresses it at last. Immediately it snaps to attention, moving nothing other than its head and betraying no emotion on its face. His pride swells further and he beckons it. “Come. Sit next to me.”

Pearl obeys without question, swiftly and gracefully seating itself beside him. Mathias can’t stop smiling. He coos at it, reaching over and softly cupping it’s face. It’s eyes shut, leaning into the touch.

“Flawless.” Mathias traces his forefinger along its jawline. Gently, he tips it’s head upwards with only the one finger, getting no resistance as it bares its neck towards him. He traces further down before reaching its collar and giving it a slight tug. Sure enough, the collar is fastened tightly and doesn’t budge. Pearl doesn’t make any noise of protest like it used to.

“Such a good pet,” Mathias praises, “So good for me. I don’t know if you remember but you’ve come such a long way. Do you remember when I first brought you home? You wouldn’t let me touch you.”

“I was a bad pet then, Sir.” Pearl answers dutifully. It’s voice is a little gravely from not speaking for hours now, but Mathias doesn’t mind. He rather likes it, even. A confirmation of his pet’s obedience.

“You were.” Mathias murmurs in agreement. He brings his hand back up, tilting its head back down so it can look him in the eyes. “But you’re perfect now. I’m so proud of you.”

A purr rises from Pearl’s throat. Mathias laughs softly, cupping his face once again and watching the once ‘Creature of the Night’ nuzzle into his hand.

“This is what you’re meant to be.” Mathias tells it. “This is how all vampires should be. Did you know that some want you as servants? Bodyguards?” He rolls his eyes exaggeratedly. “Fools. You’re far too pretty to be any of those things. At most, you should fetch things, but you’re not meant for anything heavy duty. You look so pretty in fine clothes. You purr. You’re meant to be a pet, through and through.”

Pearl purrs again, in agreement this time.

Mathias hums to himself. “Look how much happier you are. You were so scared when I brought you in, fresh off the streets. Dirty, starving, helpless— vampires need someone to take care of them. They wouldn’t attack anyone if they did. The streets could be clean and vampires could be safe, happy, and never have to think again.”

He slowly rubs his thumb against Pearl’s cheek, only strengthening the happy purrs. It’s like puddy in his hands.

“You’re far too pretty to think,” Mathias tells it, “Don’t you agree?”

“Yes, Sir.” Pearl agrees without question, too enthralled by his touch. It looks nothing short like a happy cat, finally getting a little tender loving care after years of being denied it. It saddens Mathias to think about it. All the vampires who need kind owners like him.

But he’ll change that soon enough. He has some real authority in the city, people listen to him. It’s only a matter of speeding up the process.

— — —

Anddd that’s the intro for this story! Hopefully it’ll at least give you a good idea of the general world and the main whumpee and whumper. More plot will be revealed later, I got big ideas for this one! Hope you guys liked it, tell me if I need to tag anything that I forgot!

#Atlas Writes #Pretty Fangs Series #pet whump #whump #whumpblr #vampire Whumpee #Pet Vampire #Human Whumper #chains #obedient whumpee #affectionate whumper #touchy Whumper #dehumanization #institutionalized pets #Conditioning

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my-lovely-writing · 2 years

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Cw: general whump stuff, mentions of death, almost attempted murder, knife as weapon, mentions of "breaking", seeing oneself as property, affectionate Whumper, physical abuse, scarring, lack of love, I think this fits the definition of trauma bonding

Please only read if comfortable!

"Killing me will hurt you worse," Whumper said, casually pausing their movie as if Whumpee wasn't poised to stab them.

Limbs shaking with adrenaline, Whumpee considered their options. Their mind hadn't broken completely yet—yes, they'd come to enjoy Whumper's affection, to see themselves as his property, to want to please them—but they vaguely remembered that it was wrong from The Before (as they'd come to call it).

"If you're good now, you can get away with only twenty lashes."

Whumper always cuddled them after punishments. No one cuddled Whumpee in The Before.

Whumpee gave Whumper the knife, keening when Whumper chuckled and gently stroked their scarred cheek. They hid their eagerness as they went to fetch the whip.

Everything would be better when they broke completely.

#whump #love-starved whumpee #please read the warnings #affectionate whumper #mentions of physical abuse #trauma bonding #self degradation #whumpee x whumper #tell me if I missed anything #i accidentally ended up liking their dynamic so much may do a part two #idk if I'll keep numbering my prompts #prompt eight

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eleanor-amiss · 2 years

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whump prompt #1

whumpers who have special, "affectionate" nicknames for their whumpees. ones that aren't derogatory in nature. ones that tend to come in soft tuts as they wash blood off of whumpee's hair. ones always said softly, maybe accompanied with a gentle caress from the same hand that beat whumpee so bloody in the first place.

#💫#whump prompt #intimate whumper #creepy whumper #affectionate whumper #blood #implied violence #referenced beating #docile whumpee #or not 👀

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subject-2-pain · 11 months

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Power Word Pain

Been sitting on this for a while. D&D related and offers some context, but not necessary to follow along.

TW: light body horror, implied grooming and pedophilia (not depicted)

It is already a few months into the semester, but Cainan is still practically giddy to be the young protégé of the famed inventor and respected professor, Frans Smilodeus. They hurry to the lecture hall where Cainan spends his lunches acting as Smilodeus’ assistant for an upper division class. He primarily performs menial tasks such as passing out and collecting papers.

They walk in silence, something uncommon for the professor. Slowing his gait as they walk down the final hallway, he finally speaks. “Cainan,” he says dryly, not looking down at his ward.

“Yes, sir?” The boy perks up, eager to respond.

"I'd like to use you for a demonstration today."

"Yeah, of course!" Cainan agrees, thrilled to be a part of whatever his tutor has planned.

When they walk in the room, Smilodeus’s demeanor changes from intense and decisive to the sort of bubbly attitude one would expect of an Enchantment professor. Cainan takes his seat behind the teacher’s desk, patiently awaiting his cue. After some greetings and pleasantries, the students get settled and the lecture begins:

"There are three 'power word' spells used in enchantment magic. You will not learn how to perform any of them at this school, as they are highly restricted, and should be avoided unless absolutely necessary.” His tone grows darker, “However, many of you may enter dangerous professions after your time here at the Towers, and as such should at least be familiar with these spells and their effects, should you encounter one. That is why I have asked Cainan to help me demonstrate one for you today."

Looking over to Cainan with an inviting grin, Smilodeus extends a hand, with palm face up, summoning the boy. Cainan stands nervously after such an introduction, stepping in front of the class and taking his tutor’s outstretched hand. The college students chitter amongst themselves, excited to see the magic trick.

Addressing the class again, Smilodeus goes on, "This spell is called 'Power Word Pain', and it is exactly how it sounds. It can cause terrible pain throughout the target's body, but only that. It is where enchantment magic reaches deep within the mind, and begins to affect the body.” Smilodeus gives Cainan’s hand an affirming squeeze. “The spell will not cause harm to them, nor is it capable of killing them,” he looks down at his ward, “despite how much it might feel like it."

Cainan’s eyes dart up to meet his tutor’s. "What-?"

Smilodeus leans down over his cane to be face-to-face with Cainan and whispers to him, "Your body is going to try to resist the pain and force out the magic causing it. In any other circumstance I'd say that's a good thing. But, for the purposes of this demonstration, please endure it until I instruct you otherwise."

Hesitation weighing in his lungs, Cainan takes a strained breath and opens his mouth to protest. But, how can he? He wants to impress, wants to please. Mouth open and eyes locked, Cainan exhales his anxiety and nods.

Smile tugging at his lips, Smilodeus assures him, "don't worry. You're safe in my hands."

Squeezing his hand one more time before letting go, the professor walks a few dozen feet away and then explains, "now this can be cast at quite a distance, but the school didn't give me that big of a room."

Everyone chuckles a bit while jotting down notes then watches with bated breath. Cainan keeps wide eyes fixed on the professor. He knows what spellcasting looks like. A gesture, an item, a wand, a string of ancient lyrics uttered. Preparing himself for any sign of what is to come, he clenches his fists by his side. His palms begin to sweat.

High on the anticipation in the room, Smilodeus finally speaks just one word in the tongue of ancient mages. Searing pain starts growing throughout Cainan's body.

"That's all it takes, one word. No focus, no materials, no gestures or runes. It is rather insidious in that way. It is hard to catch someone casting, and difficult to prevent them from doing so."

Cainan hears him continue to lecture to the class, but the words drown out under the waves of pain more intense than anything he's experienced. It begins as a tearing sensation just underneath his sternum, behind his ribs. He lurches forward, inhaling sharply as though something were ripping at his diaphragm. As per the request of his tutor, he suffers through it without resistance, but grits his teeth to keep composure in front of his audience.

Smilodeus continues, "with this intense pain, it makes it harder for a target to attack, cast any spells of their own, or resist any other effects that might be cast on them." Then he looks at Cainan and beckons him with a finger, "come."

All too familiar by now with this spell, Cainan still can’t manage to reject the command. He begins to make staggered steps towards his tutor, moving at a crawl. The pain extends through his legs as he moves. His bones compress beneath the flesh that pulses around them. He feels every contraction of the muscle tightening around his fragile bones, every electrical signal sent shooting down his nerves to compel him forward. They are embers sparking down lines of gunpowder, every step an explosion popping at his feet. It burns inside his boots, the skin surely melting off the soles.

After a few seconds, the command wears off and Cainan stumbles, leaning into the chalkboard with his elbow and shoulder. As he hits the board, his arm twists and contorts in place, joints disconnecting beneath his weight. He screws his eyes tight, the lids nearly fuse together. His grinding teeth are about to shatter to dust on his tongue.

"It also makes it harder for a target to move. The pain he is suffering would make anything he tries to do quite difficult, if not impossible." Smilodeus then says more quietly directly to Cainan who stands only a few yards away, "think you can keep moving this way? How are you doing?"

Cainan, coaxed on by his tutor’s concern and encouragement, opens his eyes and nods. Stumbling that way, he continues bracing himself on the board, smudging some old lecture notes on his sleeve as he drags along. He finds the courage to speak. "It's...a lot...but–"

Suddenly he stops speaking and moving, and feels everything tense up. It isn’t a new pain, but a prison, and his body is the cell holding him. Smilodeus is pointing his wand at him.

"Another unfortunate, and very powerful thing about this spell is that it doesn't require the caster to concentrate on it. I can do whatever else I like.” A sly smile unintentionally creeps across Smilodeus’s face. “I could even walk out of the room and leave him here like this."

At that, all the students start stirring as the weight of the situation and the severity of the spell start to sink in. Some shift in their seats and have stopped taking notes at this sadistic display. Cainan’s heart pounds at what feels more like a threat than a hypothetical. ‘No, don’t leave me,’ his mind begs, but he is unable to utter a word. Tears sting at his eyes, not like salt, but like acid.

"I asked Cainan to be my assistant for this demonstration because I know he has the strength and determination to handle this. I assure you, most of you would not." Smilodeus looks sternly at the class, and sheaths his wand back into the hilt of his cane. The boy falls to the ground on his hands and knees. The class gasps at the thud on the linoleum. Cainan’s kneecaps pop out of place and wriggle beneath his skin, having come alive. His hands sink into the floor covered in hot glass, stabbing and burning him, branding stigmata into his palms. "Frans, stop." Cainan barely whimpers, tears carving riverbeds into his cheeks.

Smilodeus keeps going, having either not heard the plea, or ignoring it.

"Someone with a strong constitution may be able to withstand something like this, or shake it off entirely. But the pain until then is excruciating. Any of you who know him know that Cainan isn't a good enough performer to be pretending." The class relaxes a bit at the joke, giving some levity to the situation. Perhaps it is all just for show.

"Please!" Cainan shrieks, praying on his hands and knees for his god in front of him to offer relief, reaching a shaking arm out. When Smilodeus looks at his ward begging for him through the agony, something strikes him. "I'm nearly finished. Only a moment more."

Cainan sees a sinister glint in the professor’s eyes, like striking the match that ignited this pain. Some sort of beast had awakened. Terror spurs him on to resist the spell, feeling the spiked metal wheels kick hard into his sides.

"I can't–!"

"Yes. You can." Smilodeus corrects him, voice severe. “The pain isn’t real, Cainan.”

The boy makes another attempt to push the magic from his mind. His brain swells up in his skull, pushing at the back of his eyes. The pressure strains them in their sockets but he wills them to stay in place. His stomach flips and whirls, the acrobat inducing a disorienting nausea. His intestines slither like snakes, stretching against the inside of his abdomen as they wriggle about. They bite and tear at one another. The venom stings like ice as it infects him, pumping toxic blood throughout his body. His increasingly rapid pulse pounds in his eardrums and they threaten to shatter. His heart beats against his chest, jumping around in the cavity like an excited particle, bruising and cracking his ribs. Desperately, he cries out to anyone who will listen, "HELP ME!"

Everyone in the class jolts forward. A few students get out of their seats and run towards the boy writhing in agony. Smilodeus holds up a hand, instructing them to wait, but one woman ignores him and rushes to Cainan’s side. In a singsong voice, she inspires him, “listen to me. You can break out of it. You are stronger than this.” She rests a hand on his shoulder. Her gentle touch feels like a vice grip. “Can you breathe with me? Come on. Breathe in–” She draws in a dramatic breath for Cainan to mimic. He takes a long drag from her words, filling his lungs with refreshing nicotine.

“ –and out.” She exhales a cool, gentle stream through pursed lips. Cainan exhales lungs full of water, having drowned in the pain, starving for air again. His body settles itself back into place, and his tears sting like salt again.

Smilodeus looks around at his class full of students, all watching the sequence with astonishment. Some of them stood still in mid action to the boy’s cry for help. His eyes scan the faces of his shocked pupil. He sighs, and despondently states, “class dismissed.”

Looking over to Cainan and the woman with him on the ground, Smilodeus closes the gap between them. She is searching for any sign of injury on the boy and finds none. Cainan sits back on his heels, panting. The whole ordeal only took a few moments, but the suffering lingering on Cainan’s face aged him by years. Smilodeus puts a hand on her shoulder. More gently, he goes, "I said you are dismissed." She looks up at him with worry, but notices the class had already packed up and left. To the professor, she nods at his instruction and steps out as well.

Frans kneels down in front of his ward, whose glossy eyes stare back in awe. He pulls Cainan into a hug and runs one hand delicately through the boy’s hair, which is dampened by sweat. “You did so well, Candy Cain."

Melting into the embrace, Cainan let the affirming words and rewarding touch sooth the tension lingering in his body. Finally, he pulls back and brushes off the incident, “yeah, it wasn’t so bad. Heh.”

#whump #affectionate whumper #obsessed whumpee #mind control #body horror #grooming #personal tag for full story >#EEEE #my writing

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rainydaywhump · 3 months

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Whumpers in the BBU or similar who take pics of their whumpees and make memes out of them. Sharing pics of a bloodied and tired whumpee with captions like "absolutely zero rizz in this one lads" or of course the classic "one does not simply disobey an order" with Boromir superimposed on the photo. You know. Casual things

#crack whump #unless?#imagine a terminally online gen z whumper (affectionate)#box boy universe #whump humor #whump meme

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dinkflocculent · 3 months

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Creepy intimate whumpers make my heart go berserk <3

- Non-con kissing; grabbing their hair, shirt, horns, or head to pull them closer <3

- Non-con hugging; holding whumper as they squirm or violently shake <3

- Forcing whumpee for both of them to sleep in the same bed <3

- Whumpers who actually love whumpee (bonus if yandere) <3

- Physically-affectionate whumpers <3

- Whumpees who hate any form of intimacy; it is extremely unfortunate to be with whumper. <3

- Once physically affectionate whumpees conditioned to freak out when in intimate situations <3

I plan on having a whumper like this in a series; I just love them so much <33

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a-living-canvas · 24 days

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Blurry pictures

Whumper was…oddly kind, today. Whumpee overslept and they just…smiled at them. No hint of anger or annoyance. Maybe it's a reward for Whumpee after all the suffering they endured? Or maybe—

"Ah! S-sorry, Master! I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" Whumpee pleaded as they were cleaning up their mess. The coffee stained on Whumper's shirt usually would have resulted in Whumpee being whipped on their back now. But, Whumper said nothing. They just smiled again. "It's okay, dear. No need to worry about it."

Whumper said as they stood up and walked to their room to change to a new clothes. Whumpee immediately made another coffee for Whumper. They got a head pat and compliment from Whumper after that.

That's…weird.

Whumper never being this affectionate before. What have gotten into them?

"Pet?"

Whumpee hurriedly knelt down in front of Whumper who was sitting on the couch. "Yes…Master?"

Whumper caressed the side of Whumpee's face. "Let's clean those wounds now, shall we?" Whumpee's eyes lit up at the suggestion. How they were desperately needed for their wounds and scars to be covered by bandages.

"Y-yes! Please, Master…"

They both sat still in silence for a long moment, as if they were waiting for something. Whumpee raised their eyebrows in confusion. Whumper sighed before they chuckled dryly.

"Okay, let me grab the First aid kit…"

Whumper stood up from their seat and took the emergency kit before coming back to the couch. They gritted their teeth at the sight of Whumpee not on their knees anymore but on the couch instead.They sat beside Whumpee and started treating the wounds.

Whumper's hands and movement strangely gentle today, not rough like always. They seemed to take extra precaution to make sure Whumpee felt comfortable and good at the moment.

"Eyes on the ground, Whumpee." Whumper said lightly. They weren't mad or anything, just reminding Whumpee to shift their gaze somewhere else instead of looking at them. Whumpee bowed their head in embarrassment for being caught staring.

"S-sorry, Master…"

Whumper hummed. "It's okay, don't do that again." I'll make sure you don't do that again.

Whumpee nodded instantly. Whumper was being awfully calm and they were silently grateful for that. After finally treating Whumpee's wounds, Whumper pulled Whumpee to lay on the couch with them. Whumper was hugging Whumpee from behind, their chin resting on Whumpee's shoulder. Silence enveloping them as the only sound of Whumper's soft breath filling the room.

"T-thank you for treating my wounds, Master…" Whumpee said, a little uncomfortable being embraced so tightly by Whumper. Their back pressed against their chest.

Whumper kissed the side of Whumpee's head. "You are welcome, dear. Now, just rest with me. Okay? Let those little muscles loosen up."

Whumpee nodded. As they were cuddling for almost five minutes, Whumper's hand grazed lightly on Whumpee's wounds. Not enough to make them scream, but enough to make them feel the pain. Whumpee let out a soft whimper at the feeling of their wounds being caressed.

Their elbow suddenly jerked up to the back, hitting Whumper's ribs as Whumper accidentally pressed their fingers a little too hard on the wound.

"M-master, I'm sorry! I'm sorry…!"

Whumper grunted in pain slightly before forcing a chuckle, "No…no, it's okay." Whumper tightened their hold on Whumpee. "It's okay, dear…"

Whumpee nodded, accepting the gentle fingers that running through their hair.

Whumpee was cleaning the bedroom when they noticed Whumper in a doorway, leaning slightly as they looked at them. Whumper smiled,

"Stop cleaning. You need to have a shower, now."

Whumper said as they grabbed Whumpee's wrist and led them to the bathroom. Whumpee obediently followed from behind. It's been a long time since they last showered. The thought of the water running down their skin made them feel a little giddy.

As they entered the bathroom, Whumper filled the bathtub with water. "You know the procedure." Whumper said. Whumpee obeyed and hopped in the water. They sighed softly as the warm sensation travelled across their skin.

Whumper started working on their hair, massaging the scalp with the shampoo.They both sat in silence before Whumper suddenly asked a question,

"Whumpee, do you remember how you spilled the coffee on my shirt this morning? And how it's my favourite shirt and the coffee was burning my skin? Do you know it's my favourite shirt?"

Whumpee froze. "W-why do you ask me this, Master…?"

Whumper shrugged, "Hmm, just wondering if you knew that all along and just wanted to piss me off." Whumpee's hands started trembling. They trusted the soft fingers that were massaging their scalp to not hurt them at any moment after this.

"I….I didn't know, Master…"

"Really? You didn't know?"

"Y-yes, I didn't—"

Whumper grabbed the back of Whumpee's head and shoved them into the water. They let out a muffled scream through the water as their hands were gripping on the edge of the bathtub. The moment Whumper pulled them back to the surface, Whumpee was gasping for air.

They let out a yelp when Whumper grabbed a fistful of their hair and brought their face to them.

"That's for staining my shirt. Do you like it?"

"I-I…N-no—"

Whumper tightened their grasp. "I asked you, do you like it?"

Whumpee swallowed hard, they were on the verge of crying. "I-I like it, Master…" they sighed softly the moment Whumper let go of their hair and walked to the drawer. Whumpee sat still on the bathtub, their knees pressed close to their chest.

Whumper stood behind them again, this time with something in their hand. Whumpee thought it was a loofah at first but as soon as it made contact with Whumpee's skin, they flinched before a loud scream could be heard inside the bathroom.

Whumper wrapped their fingers around Whumpee's neck tightly from behind, preventing them from moving as they washed their back with a wire dish scrubber. The soap, however, couldn't spread as much as loofah would on their skin leaving Whumpee writhed in pain.

"M-master, stop! Please…please!"

"Do you remember how you waited for me to bring the First aid kit for you?" Whumper scrubbed harder. "Who do you think you are, fool?"

"I-I'm sorry! I'm sorry!"

"And when you casually sat on the couch without my permission, you should be on your damn knees all the time, you know that?"

The wire brush was ripping their skin violently. Blood was dripping everywhere, making the water in the bathtub turning red. Whumpee let out a much louder scream upon seeing it, they were in so much pain but they knew Whumper wouldn't stop anytime soon.

As a matter of fact, Whumper started scrubbing on their scalp. Rough and scratchy, until the wire brush was covered with blood instead of body wash. Whumpee's legs were kicking under the water as they became a sobbing mess.

"I put up with you, today! Forcing out a smile even though I felt annoyed with you. Do you know how hard it was? To put up with an unlovable and annoying fucking thing like you."

Whumper pulled Whumpee out of the bathtub with just holding their neck before they let them fell to the floor. Whumper washed Whumpee's bloody form with clean water. The open wounds stung badly on their skin.

"Did you learn your lesson, pet?" Whumper asked in a threatening voice.

"Y-yes, Master…"

"Now, thank me for this. Thank me for giving you a lesson, so you will stop making another mistake in the future."

Whumpee swallowed hard, they sniffled a little. They wanted to run, anywhere but here. They just couldn't stand it anymore. It was all too much for them. With a heavy heart, they said,

"T-thank you, Master…"

#whump community #whump writing #whumpblr #whumper

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ziptiesnfries · 8 months

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Captured

Roux & Ambrose masterpost

CWs: kidnapping, knives, creepy/affectionate whumper, drugging w/ needles, referenced past torture

It’s almost eight weeks before Roux is allowed out on a job again. It wasn’t supposed to be that long—they were just supposed to take enough time off for their finger to heal—but the team has been a little … over-protective. Sometimes it seems like they were more rattled by Roux’s torture than Roux was. Normally, it wouldn’t bother Roux that much; they know their team cares about them, and it’s nice to be cared about. But after what happened with Ambrose, Roux isn’t in the mood to be coddled. They just want to get back to work.

The job is to pass off a flash drive to a client. The location is a busy coffeehouse in broad daylight—very low-risk. Roux is a little irritated that Lyon is starting them off with something so easy, but they don’t complain about it. Soon he’ll be assigning them real missions again. For now, they’ll at least prove to him that they can handle this.

It goes off without a hitch. Roux meets the client, a dark-haired woman in a pantsuit, and slides the flash drive across the table. Aside from some bickering about their age—Are you old enough to be doing this?; Hey, listen, do you want the drive or not?—the client is respectful, checking the contents of the drive on her laptop before dismissing them. It takes five minutes. Easy.

They shoot off a text to Lyon on their way out: Done. I’ll be back in 20. Then they pocket their phone and head back to their car. Maybe after this, Lyon will give them a job that actually takes longer to do than it takes to get there …

As they cross the parking lot, a figure comes out of nowhere, wrapping an arm around them. Roux jumps, beginning to pull away—but they freeze as a cold blade slides under their shirt, pressing against their skin. “There you are,” purrs a low voice. “I’ve been looking all over for you.”

Roux’s blood runs cold as they recognize him: Ambrose. How the hell did he …?

Panic squeezes their chest, but they stay very still, eyes darting around. The parking lot is in the back of the coffee house. None of the windows face out this way, and there’s no one else out here. Shit. Shit, shit, shit.

Before they can gather their wits, Ambrose continues, “Do you have a phone on you, sweetheart?”

Roux can hear the blood rushing in their ears, and their own voice sounds far away when they respond, “No.”

The knife presses into their skin, threatening to draw blood, as Ambrose chuckles. “You little liar. Take it out and drop it.”

Feeling numb, they do as they’re told. The crack of their phone against the pavement makes them wince. Lyon should be able to track my phone, they think to themself, a ghost of hope. But they just told him they’d be back in twenty minutes. By the time Lyon realizes anything’s wrong, they could be anywhere. It would’ve been better to keep their phone on them, but with the knife pressed against their stomach, they’re not going to risk grabbing it.

“Good.” Ambrose’s breath brushes their ear, and they swallow down the bile crawling up their throat. “Now come with me.”

Briskly, with the blade still pressed against them, he walks them to the edge of the parking lot. Out of the corner of their eye, they see him fiddling with a key fob, and the trunk of a sleek black car pops open as the two of them approach. “Get in,” says Ambrose.

Their heart leaps into their throat, and they decide, in that moment, that they would rather die than get in Ambrose’s trunk. They grab his wrist and wrench the knife away as they twist away from him. He shoves them, and their back hits the tail light.

When they met him before, they were either sitting or kneeling, so they didn’t exactly have a concept of just how tall he is. He looms over them, his body pinning theirs in place, and suddenly the knife is against their neck. They swallow as he meets their eyes. “I’d really hate to hurt you, sweetheart,” he says, and he looks like he means it, even as he presses the knife into the soft, vulnerable skin of their throat. “But I will if I have to.”

“What do you want?” They wince at the feebleness of their own voice. Some distant part of their brain scolds them for not handling this better. They’ve been in more dangerous situations than this without panicking. But with Ambrose pressed up against them, staring at them like that …

“You,” he whispers. A violent chill runs down their spine, and they stare at him. He tilts his head and smiles, his gaze filled with affection. “I just want you.”

They hear a little pop, and they don’t have time to react before something sharp jabs into their shoulder. A moment later, Ambrose holds up an empty syringe and pulls the knife away from their throat. “There,” he says. “Now you’ll be a little more compliant, hm?”

Panic spikes through them, and they curse themself for letting Ambrose distract them like that. They shove him away, but they don’t get very far before he grabs the collar of their shirt, hauling them back to the car. “Let go of—mmph!”

His hand clamps down over their mouth. They desperately hope that someone heard them yelling, but it still doesn’t seem like there’s anyone else around. “Shh,” he murmurs, shoving them towards the trunk. “Just relax, you’ll be asleep soon.”

Their breath comes in short gasps through their nose as he manhandles them into the trunk, keeping his hand over their mouth until the last possible second. The moment he lets go, they scream as loud as they can—even though they’re already inside the trunk, even though their limbs are growing weak and their eyelids heavy—they scream. This time, Ambrose doesn’t even try to shut them up. He just nudges their limbs out of the way and slams the trunk shut.

They pound against the ceiling, their throat turning raw as the engine roars to life. They only stop to gasp for air. They’ve never been claustrophobic, so maybe it’s the drugs or the adrenaline coursing through them, but suddenly they feel like they can’t breathe. Spots dance in their vision, and they gulp in a lungful of air, feeling panicked and stupid and dizzy.

Slowly but surely, their struggles grow weaker. They’re clinging to consciousness by a thread, trying to pay attention to where the car might be going, but all they can feel is rocking, bumping motions as the car speeds along. Their hands fall limply to their chest, and their ragged breathing slows as everything finally fades away.

#zipwrites #oc: ambrose lacrosse #oc: roux #affectionate whumper #creepy whumper #whump writing #whump #kidnapping tw #drugging tw #knives tw #love me a classic kidnapping :)#roux & ambrose

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