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painsandconfusion · 1 year

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“I’m going to bite down riiiight…..here. Sink my fangs into you and suck down the blood as your little heart goes wild~”

“Fuck- Yes please.”

“……what-?”

“Yes - I want to be inside you forever - make me part of you, please-“

“…..okay yeah now you made it weird. Bye. ……..- no-???? Don’t follow me????”

#idk have a prompt #willing victim #obsessive whumpee #vampire whumper #yandere #???

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raven-fucks-around-and-writes · 3 months

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Pitch black surrounded Whumper as he woke up in the basement.

The blindfold was gently pressed on his closed eyes, and his wrist were bound above his head. He had no clue as to where he was, except for the metal door that scraped against the concrete ground.

fear pricked the back of his mind, memories from the things he's done in the past flooding his head as he waited to see who his captor is. except this time, he was the one at someone elses mercy. for the first time in his life, he was the one who was scared.

"Hello?" his voice felt loud in the deafening silence, panic growing in his mind.

Whumper was at his last whim until he heard the door open again, footsteps approaching. "Who.. are you? tell me where I fucking am."

"You know exactly who I am, master!" a cheery and familiar voice rang out.

The blindfold was removed as whumper found himself staring into the face of whumpee — someone he held captive oh so long ago

"You missed me a lot, didn't you? i definitely couldn't stand being apart from you."

A chill went down his spine at the disturbing tone of their voice. They weren't here for revenge. They missed whumper so fucking much

Whumpee approached the bound whumper, softly running their fingers through his hair.

"We'll be together soon, whumper." They purred in his ear despite his jerking away.

"Just relax and I'll take care of everything."

#stockholm syndrome whump #whumper turned whumpee #whumpee turned whumper #my wribting #basement whump #whumpblr #whump #crazy whumpee #sensory deprivation #kidnapping whump #obsessive whumpee #conditioned whumpee #ig?

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captain-bo-bob-bobby · 2 years

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Whumpee had been taught that love is abuse. Whether by their guardians, or their Whumper, or even both; Whumpee had a skewed version of the world.

So by the time that Caretaker rescued Whumpee and helped them get better; Whumpee decided it was now or never.

Caretaker belongs to them now.

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stoic-whumpee · 2 years

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Dissolve - Absofacto

Heya! Thanks for the song :D

TW: obsessive whumpee, unreality

Whumpee who was made in a lab falls in love with their Creator/Whumper. They will willingly put themself through the worst possible experiment just so their Creator looks at them.

Whumpee follows a vision/ghost of their loved one, but the moment they get close enough to touch, the vision disappears, only to reappear a distance away. Whumpee doesn't realise they are being led into a trap.

Masochist Whumpee puts themself in Whumper's captivity. At first Whumper was delighted for an easy prey, but eventually they wonder how depraved Whumpee really is and grow a little fearful of Whumpee. They know that they can't get rid of Whumpee, because Whumpee will just find their way back to Whumper someway.

#whump #whump prompt #whump prompts #lab whump #obsessive whumpee #clingy whumpee #unreality tw #r prompts #r prompts challenge #song prompts

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jordanstrophe · 6 months

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Do you think you could do some prompts for a Whumper who likes to chat with Whumpee because they're genuinely lonely?

Whumper wants to know everything about whumpee, prying far too much for comfort. They get angry if whumpee doesn't talk so whumpee tells stories with a quivering voice and blinking tears.

"Is this too much?" Whumper asks, holding up an outfit. (Whumpee, who's bleeding from the head) "Why are you asking me for advice, I have a concussion."

Whumper comes home after a long day. They flop on the couch and babbles about the office gossip, someone cut them off in traffic and their keys went missing: All to whumpee who's sitting gagged and blindfolded.

#whump #whumpee #whumper #whump prompt #whump scenario #kidnapped whumpee #possessive whumper #lonely whumper #whump angst #obsessive whumper #Captive whumpee #whumper prompt #clingy whumper #gagged and blindfolded #gagged whumpee

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montammil · 6 months

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TW: Stalking, yandere whumper, kinda nsfw? really just suggestive, whumpee is just as batshit insane as whumper

...

Imagine an obsessed Whumper who stalks Whumpee all day.

NOW imagine a Whumpee that enjoys the attention. They tease Whumper while keeping their innocent and unknowing facade, all while Whumper becomes more and more obsessed, their patience and limits being pushed.

It's very amusing to just imagine Whumpee purposefully dressing up in revealing clothing because they know it'll send Whumper wild (and hurt/kill anyone who flirts with them).

Whumpee knowing Whumper breaks into their house at night and going to sleep naked/wearing lingerie on purpose, sometimes making movements that they know Whumper loves.

Whumpee crying when someone (especially their coworker) says something mean to them because they know that person will never be seen again.

They're just happily waiting until Whumper can't take it anymore.

#answered ask #whump #yandere whumper #whumpee x whumper #whumper x whumpee #intimate whumper #possessive whumper #yandere whump #nsfwhump #tw stalking #mutual unhealthy obsession is one of my favorite tropes ever #if it can even be called a trope?? i don't know actually lol

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hufflepuffwritingstuff2 · 6 months

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Whump Prompt- Imagine dehumanization in the opposite direction. Whumper idolizes Whumpee. No darling, you can't go outside, you're too sweet and perfect and fragile. You're my perfect little doll. Even when Whumpee misbehaves, Whumper chalks it up to Whumpee's fragile nature and continues to coddle them like they're some precious object that needs constant care and maintenance. Only the softest restraints, the finest clothes, tender touches, delectable meals, drugs administered via pill or gas to avoid those awful needle marks, and the best gilded cage money can buy.

#whump prompt #dehumanization #yandere whumper #possessive whumper #darling whumpee #obsessive whumper #carewhumper #whump #hurt/comfort #writing #writeblr #creative writing #writing prompt #prompt

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oddsconvert · 1 month

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"Open it." For my boy Josh (prompt for the five sentence fic!)

"Open it."

It isn't a request.

It's a dare. An ice-cold threat that freezes Josh to the spot. He stands paralyzed, his clammy palm welded to the doorknob. Josh's sorry life flashes before his bloodshot eyes, and his freedom taunts him from the other side of the unlocked door. It calls him, it pulls him like a magnet.

Josh wants to live, and not just survive. He wants his life back. His simple, mundane life. He'd give anything and everything to blend back into the world and fade into the background.

"Go on, Joshy. See what happens the second you open that door." Felix stalks closer but Josh doesn't face him. He can't face him. With his puffy, tear-stained cheeks and deer-in-headlight eyes. Josh's ears prick up at the sound of slow footsteps coming to a stop just over his shoulder.

"You know I'd catch you, don't you, honey?" Felix half purrs, half growls. Josh's thumping heart falls to the pit of his stomach. "God have mercy on you, I'd hunt you down like a wild animal. And when I finally find you...?"

Josh physically cringes and shrivels up as Felix nibbles at Josh's neck and kisses the dip of his collarbone. Felix slowly reaches around to place his hand on top of Josh's shaking one, on the door handle, and pulls it away.

"I'd snap your legs like twigs," Felix whispers in Josh's ear. "I would just love you bed-bound. It would be my dream come true, baby... the things I'd do to you..."

Josh hears Felix actually lick his lips and his gut suddenly twists. Josh thought his life was already a fate worse than death...somehow, it can get worse. He spins around to face Felix, eyes blown wide and sparkling - his lip wobbling like a small child.

It's a risk he's not willing to take. Any foolish bravery suddenly dissolves and his fight or flight suddenly switches off. Josh just feels empty.

He collapses into Felix's arms in a slump. His body rockets with sobs as Felix cradles him and smoothes the jet-black hair over his scalp.

"Sweet boy," Felix mumurs dotingly, "sweet, confused little boy. You know you belong with me, don't you?"

Josh nods miserably into Felix's chest.

"I'm the only one who knows you inside and out, who will take care of your every want and need. You'll never leave me, baby-blue."

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ccieatchildren · 2 months

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TW: Implied Noncon

Whumpee was awoken by a sharp shift in the bed. Over their captivity, they had become hyper aware of the body sleeping next to them, stirring whenever he tossed and turned under the covers. Steadying their breathing, Whumpee focused on each move and sound he made, trying to determine what he was doing.

The sheets ruffled and then there was no more drastic movement. Air brushed against their back, the spot next to them cold with the open covers. Whumpee covertly looked to their left to see where he had gone, only to be surprised to find him still on the bed.

Whumper sat on the edge of the mattress, breathing heavily. His body shook slightly and his fingers twitched in a rhythmic motion.

One, two, three.

Four, five, six.

Seven, eight, nine.

As if he was counting the seconds.

They continued to analyze his body language, trying to ascertain whether he was a threat in this state. His shoulders were hunched, they could hear him mumble under his breath, and he seemed distracted. All things to be wary of, but no immediate action. They watched until Whumper’s hand stilled.

“I can feel you staring.”

Whumpee quickly turned back around and resumed pretending to be asleep, hoping he would think it was his imagination and not pester them.

However, his tired, gruff voice spoke up once more. “Prašau Whumpee, you have worked in the field; if you can’t tell that someone is watching you, you are dead.” He sighed. “Miegok. Go back to sleep.” Whumper stood up, legs faintly shaking, turning to walk around the bed to the door, “I’m going out,” there was a waver in his voice, “I’ll be back later.”

Whumpee’s mind raced. They could not let him leave. Despite the ease it brought it, Whumpee could not ignore the blood dripping off him. The rips in his clothes and the scratches on his skin. They knew intimately what it was like to be the object of his ire and would not wish it on another soul.

Before they could even process what their brain decided to do, Whumpee lashed out and grabbed his hand.

Whumper startled, ripping his arm out of their grasp, a flash of fear in his eyes, before he managed to smooth it out.

“W-wait!” Instinct tells them to drop it. Let him leave and vent his anger out on someone else. Save themself the trouble and pain. But they do not, a doomed mouse asking the snake for mercy, reaching out again instead.

“Why don’t you… stay here, with m- me, instead?”

A blank stare is all they are met with. He says nothing, searching them for something they don’t know. Whumpee’s lips quiver as they strain to stretch them out into a pleasant smile. They’re not quite sure they make it.

“Are you stupid?”

It is not a response they expected, but it does make them start to regret their decision. Whumpee curls back into themself in response.

Seriously! What was the goal with that? What was I planning to do?

A voice in their head— their survival instinct— berates them for their stupidity. But another speaks over it.

What if he kills someone? I know I can take it. Maybe I could even calm him down peacefully.

‘Calm him down peacefully.’ Like that’s my job?! Let him suffer. Let me get some sleep while I can.

Diverting their gaze, Whumpee listens to their arguments, the angel and devil on their shoulders. One looking out for themself, honestly the smarter option, while the other parroting ingrained selflessness, perhaps the moral option.

They should have let him be. Whumper would do what he wanted no matter their opinion. Why trouble themself with the pain of interference.

But what if he actually listened for once? He had proven time and time again to be weak to them— when it came to other people— why not test the theory again.

The incessant arguing in Whumpee’s head ceases when he talks once more.

“What? Is the hero finally having second thoughts; not able to play the bystander anymore?”

An unbidden memory of looking at absurd trolley problems with Bestie pushes to the forefront of Whumpee’s mind. Choosing ludicrous option after ludicrous option, giggling at the scenarios the poor stick figures found themselves in. If only things could be that simple now.

He grabbed their cheeks, forcing them to face him. “I asked you a question.” Their situation slaps back into focus, and Whumpee stutters to give a response.

His voice seemed more curious and surprised than angry, so Whumpee tried to give him a more natural answer. “… No…” Honesty always went far with him. “I just…” They tentatively place a hand on his face and Whumpee instantly softens. A good sign. “You have me now. You don’t need to leave anymore.”

He doesn’t respond, only nuzzling into their hand further, but they can feel him ponder her words. They needed to fully entice Whumper into staying.

“Lie down with me. Let me make you feel better.” He looks at them confused, but not disinterested. No going back now.

Whumpee coaxes his head into their lap, repressing the urge to tremble at his proximity. He complies, curling into them like a cat. Taking a deep breath, Whumpee lets out their fears and misgivings about the situation before continuing. Their quivering fingers part his hair, threading through the dark locks.

They’ve rarely touched them before, only having yanked the tresses to inflict a margin of the same pain he’s given them, panic driving them on despite any potential consequences. Yet, this stress is different. As they run their hand through the soft strands, resentment starts to build in the place of their anxiety.

The intimacy is a spark to the meager kindling of their frustration.

However, Whumper is content, practically purring at their ministrations. Their actions have had the desired effect, calming the man from whatever torment ailed him.

They remain there, one serene with their touch, the other restless at his affection, for a while, until Whumper hesitantly breaks the tranquility.

“I love you…”

It was one of the few times he said it without any underlying malice or lust, and each time it makes their stomach clench. The emotion, the context, the… everything behind those three little words made them hate him more each time.

They just didn’t want to be here anymore.

“I love you so much.” The words tumble out of him in a rush, like he’s worried that they don’t believe him. “I promise I love you. I’m sorry… for not- I- I can’t- You’re-” he stumbles over his words, a rare look of guilt on his face, “I’m sorry for not letting you go.” Whumpee’s hand stilled.

“But, I- I just can’t. You have to understand. It’s just too late.” Now he feels ashamed? “I should have never kept you for so long, I should have never let you leave the basement, I should have never taken you in the first place.” Now he regrets it? “But now, I’ve condemned us both.” They nearly miss his next sentence.

“You made me think I could make something sweet.”

He quiets down once again, face scrunched in thought, and the time passes like honey dripping between their fingers. The silence stretches for what could have been hours, minutes, or seconds. They resume petting him; the repetitive action agitates them. Finally, his face smooths and he pipes up again.

“But, it’ll be okay. We’ll be a real family… You’ll get used to this… I’ll get used to this.”

It’s quiet once more, and Whumpee refuses to speak or even acknowledge what he has said. Their hand pauses once more in disbelief. Closing their eyes and desperately struggling not to scream, rage burns its way up their throat.

“I hope you can forgive me.”

Forgiveness? How could they even forgive someone like him, after all he’s done to them?

It wasn’t fair. They were supposed to be in their apartment, snuggled up in blankets and watching snow through the window. Or sipping hot cocoa with Bestie as they watched corny romcoms. They were supposed to be refusing Caretaker’s invitation to join them on a too early morning run. And staying way too late on overtime combing through paperwork.

Not this.

Right as their fury was to peak, as their indignation was to boil over, it all abandoned Whumpee in a moment, hand restarting its rhythmic motions in his hair.

They were stuck here now, and there was no changing that.

“Does it even matter if I do?”

Whumper never responded.

#my writing #☡#W #whumblr #whump #whump writing #whumper #whumpee #intimate whumper #defiant whumpee #conditioned whumpee #whumper x whumpee #obsessive whumper #hero #villain #hero x villain #yeah idk what this is #but it spawned from a thought i had too long ago #and now its finally frickin done

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ashintheairlikesnow · 3 months

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All We Have Is Each Other

CW: Intimate whumper, captivity, defiant whumpee, biting, creepy whumper, obsessive whumper, noncon kiss, vague noncon references, drugging. For @amonthofwhump Tropeathon Day 1: Duel

The Motherfucking Gallaghers Masterlist

Takes place during Jax’s second captivity. As always, Jax is used with oversight and permission from @comfy-whumpee)

Savvie rolls dice every time she uses the mortar and pestle in the kitchen to grind up one of her collections of pills and mix it into Jax’s drink.

She’s always gambling with the drugs. The first part of the game is seeing whether he’ll drink it before he realizes there’s something in it. If she doesn’t mix it well enough, he’ll see the cloudy bits floating around in the glass and look at her with terrible sad eyes. Sometimes she can’t take it. She just takes the drink right back out of his hand and pours it out, makes him a new one.

Other the other hand, sometimes his sad voice and sad eyes piss her off worse than anything else could, and she just tips it up until he chokes and makes him finish it anyway. Or shocks him, pressing the button to the remote and watching his muscles lock up, knowing he’ll look sweeter once he’s fighting the way his muscles jerk afterward, the unconscious twitches he can’t quite get rid of as the aftermath works its way through him.

Sometimes he even looks scared. Those nights are some of her favorites. Savvie never loves Jax as much as she does when he is scared of her.

But... she can’t keep him scared all the time. What kind of marriage would they have if she did that? No, the drinks aren’t to scare him, they’re just to make… to make things easier. And she doesn’t always do it! She doesn’t always drug him, but it’s enough that he never trusts her. She knows that. He doesn’t… trust easily.

That’s okay.

Their relationship got off to a rough start, that’s all, what with Jax starting off as one of the staff, bought and paid for. Plus, Jax’s dad convinced him Savvie was evil, once upon a time when he ran away from her. Taught him to hate her. She had to have her uncle fly all the way to England to bring Jax back, and it’s taking years to undo all the damage that stupid old man did.

That’s okay. He’s getting better, he’s definitely getting better. He is. He has to be getting better.

Still… he’s not an easy man to be married to. Not with having to keep an eye on the remote to his shock collar so he can’t take it off and try to run away again, not with the way he watches her sometimes like he wants to dunk her head into the toilet and hold it there until she drowns. Putting stuff in his drink just lets Savvie be able to relax.

She doesn’t have to worry about what he might do when he’s so high he can’t do much of anything. Besides, it’s only like one out of every ten nights, sometimes twenty, sometimes she even goes for a month or two without doing it.

She really doesn’t even want to. If he would just learn to be happy without it, she wouldn’t have to keep drugging him, would she? If he’d just stop being so difficult about being her husband… but that isn’t fair. He can’t be any better than he is, not really. Jax just… isn’t wired that way.

So she has to help him a little, to make it so he can have nights when he can’t stay mad at her. Or at least nights when his anger isn’t able to simmer in there behind his eyes while he says Yes, Miss Savvie or No, Miss Savvie like there’s a gun to his head.

Still. Trying to give him these evenings where both of them just relax… it’s always a gamble.

Even if he drinks whatever she makes without realizing it’s spiked, he doesn’t always react the same way. If she’s lucky - if her dice rolls well - the drugs make Jax… softer. He’ll lean against her when some of his strength slides away, not seek out touch but loathe it less. Those are the nights she can coax a sound out of him that isn’t clipped or tense. She still thinks about the night she gave him a back rub and he genuinely fell asleep sitting on the floor between her knees, his head drifting until it rested on her leg, the knots of tension slowly loosening beneath her kneading hands until she got distracted by the movie and forgot what she was doing.

Sometimes he smiles, when he’s blurry and unfocused. Smiles, enough to show teeth even… God, sometimes he even laughs at some of Savvie’s jokes. It’s rare, but it happens. She loves those nights the best. Those are the nights that their marriage almost feels normal… if she just ignores the dilated pupils and the way he can’t stand up on his own.

Sometimes he gets so foggy he can’t stop laughing, which is irritating but at least adorable to watch and take videos of to make him look at later on the next day when he sobers up again. Sometimes the side effects make him too scared to smile, his eyes darting nervously everywhere watching the movements of shadows he swears are watching him. She… tries not to give him those pills anymore.

The nights tend to end with her telling him to take off his shirt so she can enjoy the view, or even his pants, too. She usually waits on that, though, because it doesn’t matter how good the drugs are - he always hesitates when it comes to taking off his pants, as soon as his fingers touch the boxers with their oddly rolled waistband.

It reminds him he doesn’t want to be here. Makes his addled mind come back to the collar he wears around his neck, to the reality of the life they’re living, the marriage Savvie has built all by herself whether he wanted to or not.

And he… he didn’t want to.

So normally she waits on the getting naked bit until they’re in the bedroom and what he wants matters so much less that neither of them think about it any longer. The drugs, at least, make it harder for him to slow her down in there.

Savvie tries not to think about that, because she doesn’t remember it that way. She likes the nights best where he doesn’t even try to fight, just lets her pull him upstairs and she gets to bury her hands in his hair and tell him what to do and have him, languid and loose-limbed, follow every command without the tension and misery he usually carries into their bed.

She doesn’t always roll well.

Sometimes, she rolls snake eyes… and she gets this, instead.

“Fuck’s sake,” Jax groans, words slurring around the edges, rubbing a hand over his eyes. He pushes clumsily away from her, nearly falling off the couch before he manages to catch himself. “For… f’r fuck’s sake, Savvie, what the fuck.”

His wedding ring glints, light from the TV bouncing off the deceptively plain platinum band. She’s hit all over again with a wave of love for him, for the life she’s built after he was brought back home to be hers forever, just like he always should have been. She’d been an idiot not to see it, not until he was gone and she spent years in prison dreaming about getting him back.

“Fuck’s sake what?” She asks, voice light, smiling at him and poking him in the shoulder where they sit on the couch.

He doesn’t slap her hand away, but she sees him look at her and… he wants to. His expression is dark. The light is bouncing off his hazel eyes, too, giving them a strange sheen of white that wipes out the color, obscures even his dilated pupils slowly taking over the iris. “What the fuck was it?”

“What was what?”

“What the fuck did you give me?” He goes to push himself to standing only to have his knees buckle beneath him, crashing him to the floor, barely catching himself on his hands. Savvie’s mouth waters, and she swallows, trying to ignore the flutter of fascinated interest in watching his fingernails scrape the rug as he tries to steady himself. “What the fuck is it, Savvie?”

“It doesn’t matter,” She answers, without changing her own tone, leaning forward with her arms resting on her thighs. Her hair falls in heavy waves down her back and over her shoulders. “It’s not anything that could hurt you.”

This time, he doesn't say Miss Savvie or try out the sad eyes. Instead, he looks away. She can nearly hear his teeth grinding. “Yeah, but once I’m all fucked up, you will.”

“Don’t be rude,” Savvie chides him, but she doesn’t move. He looks good, on his hands and knees on the floor. Well, he looks good all the time, really, but he looks even better on his hands and knees. She knows the physique he’s built with the workout routine she makes him do, knows the muscles there hidden beneath the green sweater and jeans he’s wearing. “You’ve been stressed all week. I’m just trying to help-”

“Fucking shit, the hell you are!” He manages to sit back on his knees, then collapses back until his back hits the edge of the couch cushions, upright through sheer force of will and a bit of good luck. His hands lay limp at his sides, now. When he turns to look at her, his eyes don’t focus quite right - but the fury in them is clear.

Well.

Tonight’s not going to be the best night for them, then, she supposes. She feels the edge of a headache starting up, and sighs, looking mournfully at the movie she’d pulled up for them to watch. Another night, then. A night when the gamble pays off and doesn’t backfire. A night when he can’t remember how to be angry at her.

“Fine,” She says, heavily. “I’m not trying to help you. I’m trying to help me.”Her own voice changes - drops almost a full octave from her usual carefully constructed diction and sweetness to something sharper. “I’m making tonight easier on me. Making you less… less-” She can't think of a good way to end the sentence, so she just lets it hang there between them.

Jax snorts, looking away again. His head keeps lolling forward until his chin nearly touches his chest before he jerks it back again. “Yeah, I fucking know,” He manages, but his slurring is getting worse. “Shit f’r brains.”

Savvie sniffs, but the fake tears aren't coming as easily as they usually do. She probably accidentally gave him too much again. It’s just sometimes so hard to remember exactly how much the dose is supposed to be…

“I don’t enjoy you being cruel to me any more than you enjoy it when I do it to you, you know,” She says, suddenly… so tired. She spends so much time and effort creating a marriage herself out of a man her uncle bought for her once and abducted for her the second time, and she’s doing this all on her own - no one helps her, not really. And Jax never gives up.

She’d been sure he’d start to settle in and understand by now, but he just… he just doesn’t. And she’s so tired. Her fingers toy with the little black remote to his shock collar. Maybe she should just… just give up on having a good night and punish him for the cursing until he just bites off his stupid tongue.

No, wait.

She likes what he does with his tongue, when she gives the order. He’s so good with it now. Maybe… maybe just a small shock. Just to remind him he's hers. She takes a deep breath. “Jax… get on your-”

“On m’knees f’r discipline?” He starts laughing before she can finish, cutting her off, letting his head fall totally back against the arm of the couch until he’s staring at the ceiling. He sounds wild, almost like an animal. Her quiet watchful husband is feral, and Savvie resolves never to give him the pill she gave him tonight ever again. “Yeah, fucking… fuckin’ do it. Second I don’t play along, there y’go. Bzzzt.” He cackles, a cracked bark of laughter she’s never heard him make before. “Shut me up so you don’t hear me say it.”

Savvie’s heart twists. “Say what?”

The laughter dies in him as suddenly as it appeared. He turns his head, or tries to - it mostly just falls to one side until he’s looking at her. Their eyes meet, his all black pupil and hers with nearly no pupil at all. “How much I fucking hate your fucking guts.”

“You don’t hate me.” She says it firmly, as if he’s being ridiculous. “Don’t be mean, Jax. You don’t hate me at all.”

She takes a deep breath. Married couples have fights, even ugly ones sometimes, and they work it out-

“Yeah. I… I really do.” Disgusted, that’s the tone in his voice. Disgusted with her. “I do. I hate you.”

“Why do you hate me?”

The look he gives her is such a blatant are you a complete fucking moron that she can hear his voice even though he doesn’t say a word.

“No, hold on.” She waves one hand, dismissing her own question. His eyes briefly follow the movements of her fingers, distracted by whatever the drugs make him see there. Trails of light, maybe. It’s probably beautiful. “Hold on. I know why-”

“Do you?” His question is sharp, snapped, even as his every muscle can barely tense enough to move. “Do you fuckin’ really?”

“Yes. I do.” Savvie’s too tired to talk him in a circle tonight. She’s just… too exhausted by her bad gamble, bringing neither the snuggly Jax or the scared one, but this angry, vengeful animal instead.

Her headache is getting worse.

She grabs her glass of wine off the coffee table and chugs it so fast a little drip escapes the corner of her mouth and runs down her chin. She has to wipe it away, wincing at the… at the idea of how that looks. Her mother would have had a fit about it. If she hadn’t died years ago. “Because I had you kidnapped.”

Jax is silent, for a beat. He squints at her. “Fuck… what’d you say? Might be hearin’ shit.”

She laughs, softly. Not her usual laughter, crafted to fill up a room and put all eyes on her. This laugh is barely there, but far more genuine. “No. You're not hallucinating, that shouldn't happen with what I gave you tonight.”

“Oh, good, not this fucking drugging, then, jussss-” His head falls too far to one side and he forces it back up, groaning. “Jusss… others.”

“Only one of the pills does that. And you were cute when you thought there were monsters in the bathroom.” She gets that flat stare from him again and this time she can't hold eye contact, looking down and away, still fiddling with the remote to his collar. “I just. I do know what I did, Jax.”

“Yeah, I fucking know you know-”

“I had you kidnapped.” She takes a deep breath. It feels oddly good to say, like a scene in a movie confessing to a priest. A foul-mouthed priest she’s been sleeping with for over a year. The thought makes her smile, just a little. “My uncle had people watching you, and when I was ready, he knew where you’d be and he abducted you for me. I know that. I know that you’d run, if you could. I’d take your collar off right now if I thought you’d stay without wearing it.”

Jax is silent for so long she briefly wonders if he's flat out forgotten how to talk. Then he shrugs - or tries to, his arms don't quite follow his commands. “You’d find somethin’ else, some other reason for shit ‘round my neck. You fuckin’ like it.”

For the first time, she doesn't deny it. “I do.” She laughs at the way he looks almost comically surprised, unable to keep his usual closed-off expressions in place with the drug coursing through his veins. “What? Can't a girl have a kink?”

“Sure fuckin’ can, but you… you don' have a kink, you got… goddamn victims.”

“... I… yeah. But it-... that's not my point. It isn't about the collar, Jax. Your wedding ring does it for me, too. I could barely wait to get you home after we signed the marriage certificate.”

The glare is back. His hatred is blistering her skin. She watches him try to stand, making it nearly upright before he falls back down again with a heavy thump.

Her mouth twitches. “You want help, sweetie?”

“Ffffuck you.”

“Well, I mean, if you’re asking so nicely.” She giggles at her own joke.

He mumbles something she can't quite hear, trying to stand one more time but quickly giving up. He makes it onto the couch, at least. Savvie stands, turning to grab his ankles, shifting so he’s lying on his back, head and feet each cushioned by the arms of the comfortable, overstuffed couch. He struggles weakly, and it's hard work, but she gets him where she wants him. She barely breathes, taking in his chest rising and falling under his sweater, how his inhales are coming more sharply.

She can't help herself.

Savvie climbs on top of him, like she’s done a hundred times. She straddles him, sitting on his hips and leaning down to kiss his neck, nosing under his jaw. At first, his head tips back in resignation - but then he curses and pushes at her weakly instead. “Don’t.”

She grabs his wrists and shoves them above his head. He’s so weak, the drugs have taken all that muscle and made them… useless at holding her off. There’s a shiver of excitement down her spine. “Uh-uh, sweetie. You’re the one who said to fuck you, remember?”

She feels a thrill at saying fuck, like she’s still a kid sneaking swears in her room when her parents won’t overhear.

“Don't,” He groans. “Sav-... Savvie, stop. G’t off me. I hate you.”

“I know.” She smiles down at him. His eyes meet hers, tired and bleary. Furious and almost resigned. “I know you hate me, Jax… but I love you.”

She leans down, her hair a waterfall curtain, blocking them both off from the world. She can smell the cologne she buys for him, blended with her own pricey perfume. His wrists jerk against her grip and she digs her nails in until he grunts in pain and the skin gives beneath.

“Savvie,” he whispers.

“Sssshhh.” She lets go with one hand, shifting both his wrists to her other one, and presses a finger against his lips. “I love you so much,” She whispers. “And I don't need you to love me back, sweetie, I don’t. I just need you to lie for me.”

She kisses him, then, pressing her lips firmly to his. For half a second, his mouth is slack and unresisting even as his body shudders with disgust. He’s warm, his skin burning up beneath her. Her mouth moves against his, trying to get him to answer her, to open up.

His lips gently part. For a brief moment, Savvie feels the rush of victory.

Then he bites.

Pain blooms in a sudden flare as his teeth bury themselves into her lower lip and he jerks his head to the side, sensitive skin tearing.

“Shit!” Savvie jerks backwards, staring down at him wide-eyed. She can taste her own blood in her mouth. It’s smeared on his lips and his teeth like badly-done lipstick as he gives her a smile that's really a snarl. “Oh my God, Jax-... how dare you-”

“Fuck you! Don't fucking touch me!” He gets his arms more or less under his own control and shoves her off of him. She crashes into the coffee table, the legs giving out, tumbling her to the floor. Pain spikes hot and demanding along her hip where she hits the hard angle of the corner and she finds herself the one lying on the floor, while Jax slowly sits up, wiping blood off his lips.

Her blood.

Savvie pulls her fingers from her mouth and gasps. There’s a smear of red, bright and vibrant, the unmistakable sense of blood trickling down over her chin. She tongues at the wound, then winces as the pain flares bright, like he’s bitten her all over again. She considers tears - looks at the loathing in his eyes, the absolute rage written in the lines of his face - and then decides they’re wasted on him tonight. Instead, she just shakes her head. “That hurt.”

“Good. Don' like bein’ the one fucking bleeding for once, huh?” His eyes drift closed. He struggles to open them again, to keep his eyes on her. “Shit feelin’, isn't it?”

“God.” She swallows. Blood on her tongue is making her feel nauseous and she gets to her feet carefully. Her mouth and hip throb. She’s going to be so bruised tomorrow, going to ache so much. “You’re awful sometimes, you know that?”

“Yeah.” He grins. He hasn't bothered to try and get the red off his teeth. “I know. So… so fffffuckin’ get rid of me, then.”

Savvie snorts, limping a little as she moves to pick up the spilled wine bottle from the floor. She could shock him now - that’s what she would usually do. Or call Isaac and have him carted off to spend another month locked in the kennels with the dogs. He… probably doesn’t care about that, though. Anything to get away from her. Anything is better than her, to him.

“Get rid of you?” She drinks the last swallow in the bottle, washing blood down her throat with the wine. “Then what, Jax? I should just… live here alone, without you, for the rest of my life?”

“Fucking-... yes, or go fucking die. I don't fucking care.” The flush of hot anger bleeds away, his voice softening a little. “I don't… don' care, Savvie. I don’t care about you.”

“No. You do.” She feels a burst of desperation to make him understand. “You hate me, right? That’s caring about me, still.”

“Savvie-”

“No. I love you. You are mine, and I am keeping you. This is love, Jax. What I feel for you is true love.”

He shakes his head, swaying a little where he sits. He tries to push her away again as she takes him by the arm but his burst of energy seems to have used him up. He lets her, in the end, get him onto his feet. She leads him on his unsteady legs out of the room, and he stumbles along with her.

“S'not love,” He mumbles. She keeps an arm around his waist to help him balance. “Fucking… fuck you. Let me leave, Savvie.”

He doesn't have the strength to push her away, not anymore. He has to use her to stay up as they take the stairs one at a time, although after three or four he jerks away again and uses the railing, leaning heavily against it as he drags himself upwards, inch by inch, step by step.

She lets him pull away, watching his determination to not need her, how badly he doesn’t even want her. There’s a canyon inside of her, something dark and deep that hurts so much worse than her hip or her torn open lower lip, threatening to claw its way out as she watches the man she has forced to play the role of her husband do anything he can to avoid her touch.

Her jaw sets. “It is. It is love, and you know what? It’s all the love you’re going to get. Ever. No one else will ever love you.” Savvie’s voice stays low. “You’re not… you’re not lovable, Jax, but I don’t care, I love you anyway. Nobody else would. No one is ever going to even want to love you but me.”

He slumps. The fight’s all gone out of him, for now. Her gamble failed tonight and Jax is buckling under the weight of what runs through his veins, the heavy expectations in her eyes and her smile and her devotion.

“Fuck,” is all he says, barely a whisper under his breath.

Savvie sighs, touching her fingers to her lip again. The bleeding has slowed but there’s still a spot of red. “Goes both ways, though, I think.”

He doesn't look at her. “What?”

“This… how much you hate me… how I had to kidnap you, and put that thing on your neck to keep you here, how you wish you were anywhere but here with me… you know, I, I get it.”

He has to stop at the landing and lean over, resting his forehead against the wall.

She lays a hand on his back, leaning over to speak right against his ear. “I get that your hate is all the love I’m going to get, too, Jax. Nobody else will ever love me, either.”

Her throat feels tight, and she can’t tell if she really feels the twisting nerves in her stomach, the sense of dread, or if it’s part of her act for Jax. Sometimes even Savvie isn’t sure when she means the things she says. Sometimes, even worse, she really does.

“All we’re ever going to have is each other.”

He doesn’t answer her. But when she takes his arm in her hand, he allows himself to be dragged along towards her bedroom. The fight might be gone, but so is the feeling. There’s nothing in his eyes that shows he even heard her.

That’s okay. She can be honest, in the dark, in the middle of the night, knowing that he’s too drugged to remember anything she said when he wakes up again. She’ll lie to herself again by morning. So will he.

She just needs him to lie.

@whumpyourdamnpears consider this my evil savvie gift to you

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whumpwillow · 5 months

Text

characters who push themselves to and beyond their limits, exhausting themselves and depriving their bodies of sleep for the simple reason that they believe they don’t deserve even that 😌

#im obsessed #whump #whump tropes #whump prompt #whump prompts #whumpee #exhaustion whump #overworked whumpee

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honeycollectswhump · 2 months

Text

Like Blood and Oxygen

[masterlist]

CW: mental breakdown, obsessive thought patterns

The chandelier casts a golden light across her bedroom, a candle spreading the sweet smell of vanilla, and it makes Mireille want to vomit. It makes her want to reach into the fire, to take it into her palm and squeeze and choke the light out of it. It makes her want to rip the chandelier down, execute it on the ground, stamp on each jewel until it cracks and shatters beneath her bare feet.

Instead Mireille paces in front of her mirror, as tall as the ceiling, golden frame like artwork –fucking artwork, it’s fucking art, she is fucking art–, money spent on a horrid shade of gold, more money than her stupid fucking servants will ever have, and

What.

Does.

It.

Matter.

Why care at all.

Because her stupid fucking nightgown sits horribly on her curves, silky red doing nothing but making her skin crawl and no one will see her anyways it doesn’t matter but it does. For the hundredth time she fumbles with the fabric, draping it on her breasts, flowing over her hips, just long enough to cover what it has to. Maybe instead it should cover her whole like a grieving widow or a burial shroud for all she’s worth.

She could rip her skin off with her teeth, undress herself to the bone, bare veins and sinew if that would make her be something. Mireille knows what she should look like, she knows, every fiber knows, and yet the gown hides her waist and there is no one to touch her, to see the work of art she has spent her fucking life creating and what worth has art if it isnt being looked at.

They should be grateful, grateful to lay eyes upon her smooth skin, shining blue eyes, luscious hair, her voice and her body and–

And yet they don’t. They do, but not really.

Not. Enough.

It’s not enough, none of it is, but how is that her fault? It’s not. Of course it isn’t.

Mireille has friends, and they love her, they fucking love her. She’s gorgeous and elegant, each movement deliberately poised, it's like second nature, it’s her nature and her job. She leaves kisses like burns and burns like kisses and both leave a mark on the world that will never fade.

Instead, it will twist and scar, a never healing wound but at least it is a reminder.

Mireille should be at the center of their thoughts, the center of their world, their universe. She should be their star and their sun, granting them warmth and light when she feels like it. They should strive for nothing more than to please her, read her thoughts and treat her right, touch her right and kiss her in worship that comes from the heart.

She doesn’t need to ask for it, she shouldn’t! If they were the right people, they would know, instinctively. They would know the meanings she so carefully covers in words and jewelry, would read it like the bible, would examine every intention. They would know and they would love her.

Love her like she was created to fit their souls, to fulfill them. Only her closeness is sweet relief, wishful satisfaction. Love her like warmth, like the sun, like blood. Love her like oxygen.

Love her.

Please.

Taglist: @whumpsday, @2in1whump, @sodacreampuff, @webbo0, @toyybox, @sowhumpshaped, @clickerflight let me know if you want to be added or removed :)

#lets see if this helps #yes im projecting onto the whumper of this story. look away /lh #also this isnt proofread. sorry #mireille belmont (oc)#The Ashtray #girlie is not so composed anymore #but shed never allow herself this if anyone was watching. unfortunately for her we are #mental breakdown #obsessive thought patterns #whumper turned whumpee #kind of???#emotional whump #female whumper #mental illness whump #pet whump #servant whump #lady whump

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scath001 · 25 days

Note

I never knew that there was a trope that involved Whumper being obsessively in love with Whumpee, and doing creepily nice things to them, until I found it ob your account, but it's so daNG GOOD! Imagine an obsessed Whumper kidnaps Whumpee and does all those creepy/sweet things Then they see how Whumpee wants to go back to Caretaker, (maybe not romantically) they hurt Caretaker in front of them. After, Whumpee gets revenge kills them. Imagine the look on Whumper's face, their final words.

First shock, then confusion. Why? They wondered as they stared blankly down at their chest; the bloodied knife handle stuck out of them like a sore thumb. The whumper stumbled back, away from their assailant. Stabbed through the heart. How ironic.

What pretty hands… They could never forget those long fingers. How could they? The whumper had longed for their touch for years. The warmth they held, the hesitant but gentle touches.

Blood spilled from their mouth as they coughed, their very being, once towering over their assailant- Whumpee- now brought down to their knees as they slowly bled out in their own home. Lifting their gaze up to Whumpee, their heart ached. Such a pretty face shouldn’t be wearing such an anguished expression. Not now at least, not when they finally had their revenge.

“I did ev- everything r- right,” Whumper whispered. “Ga- gave you ev- everything you could po- ssibly want-”

“No.”

Whumper hummed, lifting their head up. They felt tears against their cheek.

“You could never bring my best friend back. The lost time, the years of pain you put us through with your obsession- I-” The whumpee paused, choking on their tears. “I will never no peace.”

…

It was silent. Vacant eyes stared hollowly at the whumper. Their cold lips pulled into a gentle smile.

“See you in hell.”

#whump #whumpee #whumper #whump prompt #v answers #stabbed #dying whumper #obsessive whumper #obsessive love #implied death #haven't written in years #haven't been here in so long that I've kind of forgotten how this works...#no promises that I'm back #but I will be slowly clearing up my inbox

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jordanstrophe · 1 year

Text

CW: Kidnapped for auction, sold to a gentle/controlling whumper, gagged, shackled, wounded.

Whumpee’s wrists were shackled behind their back tethering them to the floor like a short leash. They were still gagged from being transported. No one bothered to take it off.

-And by transport, it was a kidnapping. Their abductors never used those kinds of words. They sickeningly simplified everything like casual business.

A bruise bloomed on the side of their face from where they had been struck unconscious. Blood trickled from their temple to the gag where it soaked it up.

The door loudly opened as a giddy figure entered. “Oh wow, look at that bruise.” Whumper whistled. They dropped to a crouch in front of them as whumpee huffed and twisted their wounded-side away.

“Aww, don’t be that way. I won’t hurt you.” As if to prove it, they gently petted whumpee’s hair. “I’m just here to take a look at what I’m buying.” They smiled.

... Buying?

Whumpee’s heart fluttered a few extra beats as they took a deep breath to calm themselves.

“What a shame they did that to your face. I thought I specified that you weren't harmed.” They clicked behind their teeth. “-And what a pretty face. You’ll heal soon, don’t worry.” They grabbed whumpee’s jaw and tilted their head back to meet theirs. Whumpee whimpered a panic breath in pointless resistance.

“No matter. I’ll take good care of you. You’ll see.”

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