#Nsfwhump

[whumping-valentine]

On multiple occasions I have had dreams about a very beautiful, old-timey, (implied) immortal, older woman who kidnaps me and treats me like a pet in a very kinky yet non-consensual way and everytime that I wake up I'm disappointed it's not real.

There was this one dream where I was kidnapped by a very pretty m/f couple in a cabin out in the middle of nowhere and as a bi person that's one of my biggest fantasies tbh. They were very nice to me yet also very mean and I was like their pet.

Then there was another time where what was basically a human version of my character helena held me captive in a fantasy forest and I remember her whipping me and making me do chores.

Then there was a more recent one where my character Vittoria was holding me captive in the weirdest liminal space and she would not leave me alone like at all. Just constantly tormenting me. Like tickling me, bothering me, touching me sexually and not letting me get away even an inch no matter how much I tried. Honestly this dream is what made me realize WHY I love dubcon so much. It's not the lack of consent in particular but rather the fight. It's like ahhhh I'm not ready wait you're not waiting for me to be ready noooo stop!!! I don’t want it but I do!!

There were more but those are the ones that are easiest to explain lol. Most of my dreams are plot heavy and I won't be getting into the fucked up world of my kinky whump dreams lol. Since I'm aspec, these scenarios can either be dreams or nightmares depending on my mood lol.

*Whump is a term of fiction in which a fictional character is wounded, ill or in distress (be it physical or emotional)

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[holidayinhell]

“Open your mouth.”

Whumpee hesitated. A flicker of defiance flashed in his eyes before being smothered by the weight of exhaustion.

He’d already lost once today. He knew resistance would lead to another beating. It wasn’t worth the fight.

Kneeling at Whumper’s feet, Whumpee reluctantly parted his lips.

“Good.” The tall man said approvingly. His eyes glinted as he took a drag from his cigarette, leaning forward for a better look at his seldom-behaved captive. Obedience was a good look on him.

“Good. Now wider.”

Humiliated, Whumpee forced his lips apart with all the strength he could muster. The burning flush of shame spread across his cheeks.

“Nice, Whumpee...” Whumper murmured. “Pretty teeth.” 

His gaze lingered on Whumpee’s parted lips, watching curiously as his tightened muscles began to quiver. 

Pungent smoke billowed from Whumper’s smile, filling the room with its suffocating haze.

Whumpee’s tongue started twitching from holding his mouth open for so long. His eyes darted away when he noticed Whumper lean even closer towards him, flinching as the man’s shadow crossed his face.

Pinched between two fingers, Whumper dangled his cigarette directly above Whumpee’s open mouth.

When enough soot gathered at the tip, he flicked the ash onto the Whumpee’s tongue.

“No. Don’t swallow.” Whumper commanded softly. “Keep your mouth open.”

The bitter taste of ash coated Whumpee’s tongue, burning against the back of his throat. His jaw trembled from the strain of forcing his mouth open, every muscle aching as he fought the urge to spit the disgusting mouthful at Whumper’s feet. Humiliation seethed through him, burning hotter than the ember of the cigarette.

He hated this. His survival depended on it, but this, being treated as furniture-- worse, an ashtray-- he fucking hated it. But he had no other choice.

With a forceful breath, Whumpee lifted his eyes, refusing to meet Whumper’s smug gaze.

Smoke curled lazily from the cigarette between Whumper’s fingers as he relished the spectacle of Whumpee on his knees in blissful, silent submission.

“Good.” Whumper purred. “Stay just like that.”

((more whump))

[fungalpieceofextras]

Things I wish I saw more of in living weapon whumpees: a non-comprehensive list from being around actual Marines and army people

They can and will sleep anywhere... except an actual bed. The moment you give them access to an actual bed with a mattress and sheets, their immediate instinct is to make it up in barracks style, not sleep in it. The moment they're expected to sit and wait and/or have no expectations of them, they lean back and enter a light doze.

Caffeine addiction. Usually through pills, sometimes through special caffeinated gum. This pairs with the weird sleeping habits.

When they ARE guaranteed eight hours of rest, at least two of them are spent maintaining equipment/ their uniform if permitted. When they wake, they're up and ready for whatever comes next in under five minutes. This includes making up the bed.

If it's not the bare minimum to keep them functional and armed, they don't have it. This is going to be especially true for LWW's who were raised in the lifestyle and/or brainwashed after abduction from civilian life. Watches, jewellery, spare clothes, even non-obtrusive things to occupy them outside of training like books or a phone are not things they have without stealing or being given a gift by someone around them.

Paired with above, they have no preferences for what they do get. If someone above them fucks up and gives them too-small or too-large clothes, they just make it work and take the punishment they don't deserve at inspection time. If the only toilet is a bucket on the floor, they use it without complaint.

Their language when speaking freely is something the fuck else, like for real the shit that comes out of their pieholes is unbelievable! A "fuck" every other word!

They only speak when spoken to, and when they do, it's in what I like to call a Sir Sandwich: "Sir, [response goes here], Sir", usually in a very flat and (if appropriate) loud tone. "Sir" can be considered gender-neutral in this case and is meant to denote someone in authority, not a masculine someone specifically.

Buzzed hair on men, pixie or chin-length bob on women, though if your LWW is the only woman in a mostly masc environment, buzzing her hair can be a deliberate tactic by her captors/superiors to dehumanize her.

Food aggression. They inhale their food, they never eat anything that takes time or effort to prepare OR to consume (salad, omelette, pancakes/waffles, steak, etc.) and if the situation calls for it they can and will eat with their hands no matter how nasty their hands are. Permission to sit down for more than ten minutes and actually TASTE what they eat should be alien to them during recovery/leave if they get it.

Hazing. Sorry, but if your LWW is in a group with other soldiers or LWs, they're going to experience some kind of unpleasant/humiliating/dangerous initiation ritual, ESPECIALLY if the team is going someplace dangerous or going to be together for long stretches of time. Stealing clothes while your whumpee is in the shower, mocking them for things they can't control/weren't aware were 'weird', anything and everything that would get them screamed at or punished by the commanding figure on an individual basis. (For my NSFWhump peeps, yes this can include SA or harassment and often does, especially for women and effette/less masculine/nerdy men.)

Exercise as punishment. This can be extra labour, a pointless task they can later be yelled at for not stopping by curfew after not being told to stop at a given time, or even just the classic "drop and give me twenty!". Hitting or otherwise physically abusing a trainee is a federal offense, but for a LWW it depends... are you leaving a mark? Can they still perform as intended?

Just. The irl army is already pretty horrible and I don't see anyone making use of that.

[the-bar-sinister]

[whumpcereal]

a little noncon whump scenario beneath the cut

"Do you know what the French call it when you come, Whumpee?"

Whumper's whisper is warm and wet in Whumpee's ear. Whumpee squeezes their eyes shut, trying to ignore the rough hand slipping between their legs. They bite down hard on gag between their teeth, but still, their body jerks in response to Whumper's touch.

"They call it la petite mort, pet. A little death."

Whumpee's body coils like a spring as Whumper's fingers bring them closer to the edge.

"I wonder," Whumper purrs, "just how many times you'll die before I decide to kill you."

[saffitaffi]

Uhhh so I’ve had this thought bumping around my brains for a while but it doesn’t fit any of my characters so I give it to the wider community instead

Whumper who ties, chains, or holds whumpees hands into a position so they can slip into the space in between

(Works well with creepy/intimate, delusional, even parental whumpees)

Some helpful diagrams

Feel free to trace, use as base, reference, etc.

[a-crumb-of-whump]

Liking minor whump does not make you a bad person. Liking lady whump does not make you a bad person. Enjoying whump with POC does not make you a bad person. Enjoying pedophilic/incestuous whump does not make you a bad person. Liking NSFWhump does not make you a bad person.

Just because you enjoy these things in fictional settings, does not mean you condone them in real life. They are no better or worse than anything else we as whumpers create.

[whump-world]

noncon/nsfw whump prompts

whumper is obsessed with whumpee

a. "look at me, my love. look. at. me."

b. whumper fucking whumpee as punishment for 'asking for it' from someone else.

c. micro-managing clothes on whumpee. either whumpee looks exactly how whumper wants them to look like, or they wear nothing at all.

d. body worship. except whumpee is asleep. (taking pictures is also preferred).

spiteful whumper who wants to get back at caretaker

a. fucking whumpee in front of caretaker ofc. but my favorite is letting other (hopefully several) whumpers touch whumpee in front of caretaker.

b. for every mistake caretaker makes, whumpee spends one more night in whumper's bed. also manipulating whumpee enough to start hating caretaker.

c. caretaker loses a bet and whumper asks for whumpee, knowing caretaker loves whumpee. even more brutal if whumpee gets angry at caretaker.

d. record whumpee and make caretaker listen to it. exquisite if whumpee is actually screaming in pain.

whumpee conditioned to want whumper

a. begging for it just so they can have a proper meal and shower afterwards.

b. begging for it from a horrified caretaker oof.

c. whumpee becoming scared when whumper starts going rough for the first time.

d. whumpee getting jealous when whumper dotes on a different whumpee right in front of them.

whumper who loves nsfw punishment

a. counting. very common for a reason. counting how long they can wait, counting how many spanks, rounds. you name it.

b. making whumpee hypersensitive with no touch and sound and vision for weeks, only to break them down with sex.

c. playing mind games with whumpee!! each wrong answer makes whumpee's situation progressively worse!

d. sticking something inside whumpee and then punishing them when whumpee inevitably slips in public.

[holidayinhell]

The Laundry Room

Characters: creepy/intimate Whumper, captive Whumpee CWs: captivity, noncon (mostly implied but eh), sexual/noncon nudity, food denial, discussion of amputation, classic whump shiz

In the early days of his captivity, Whumpee was allowed to sleep on the couch in the basement. Now he spent his days chained up on the floor of the wash room, tethered to the column in the center of the laundry room with a radius of no more than twenty feet to roam about. The cold of the cellar was inescapable. Sometimes, late at night, he would secretly turn on the dryer on its lowest setting and press his face to its warmth. It was one of the only good things left in his life anymore. Now all he had to look forward to was the sweet release of sleep and laundry day once a week.

“Whuuuum-peeeee!” Called a singsong voice from the top of the steps.

Whumpee swallowed. No matter how many times this happened, he was never prepared for it.

The wooden steps creaked in protest under Whumper’s heavy boots. The tall man rounded the corner of the basement into the subterranean laundry room, where he found his favorite captive chained to the central support beam, exactly where he’d left him.

“Got a little something to keep you busy.” Whumper grinned, dumping the contents of the laundry basket he was holding onto the floor. “Turn around.”

Before he finished giving the command, Whumpee had already presented his captor with the zip ties securing his wrists behind his back. Normally Whumper would remove the binds the moment he got home, but he'd had already been back for hours. Maybe he was busy with something else. Or maybe he did it on purpose.

Whumper retrieved his switchblade from his pocked and flipped it open.

“So I saw something on the news again today.” Whumper informed his captive, snapping the plastic ties with his knife.

“Apparently someone found an old hat in the woods. They think that it’s one of yours. It started another search for you, if you can goddamn believe it, and it’s even bigger than before. There’s helicopters and scent tracing dogs and all.”

Whumper unbuckled his belt, sliding the leather strap through the loops of his pants. “That’s some crazy persistence, all for one person. Like, move on with your lives, people. What’s it been, a whole year now?”

“Ten months.” Whumpee replied weakly, rubbing the red marks on his wrists.

“Shietttt, has it really been that long? I was just kidding.” Whumper said playfully, his voice laced with something sinister. “Well, you know what they say: time flies when you’re having fun.”

Fun. Is that what this was?

“I’m just glad they haven’t given up hope yet.”

Whumpee knew he’d misspoke the second the words left his mouth.

“Wrong, Whumpee.” The air went heavy. Whumper shot a disdainful glance at Whumpee, his eyes narrowing with contempt. “People need to stop searching. They need to give up already.”

Whumper was still clutching his leather belt in his hands. For the sake of his physical wellbeing, Whumpee decided to ignore the comment completely.

“Uh, so separate these by color, then?” Whumpee asked as he pawed through the dirty laundry on the floor, desperate to change the subject.

Whumper’s mind was still on the search. “Hmm? Oh, yeah, like usual. Remember to run the sheets—“

“On delicate mode?” Whumpee finished his thought. “Mhmm. Got it.”

Whumpee busied himself by sorting through the dirty laundry pile while Whumper loomed by the room’s entrance. Whumpee watched him cautiously from the corner of his eye. The sociopath was silently brooding, his eyes fixed on Whumpee’s form.

He wished Whumper would fuck off and go back upstairs.

Doing laundry once a week was one of the only tasks he was allowed to do, and as depressing as it was, he actually looked forward to it. It was one of the only things he had to keep himself entertained with. 

In the early days of his captivity, Whumper had allowed him to watch the small tv in the basement living room and provided him with an endless supply of magazines and books. And to think, Whumpee thought he was a prisoner back then. Like most everything in Whumpee’s life, his privileges had been taken away one by one. 

Whumper removed the tv within the first month. He never gave Whumpee a reason why. Next were the books. Then the couch. And soon enough, Whumpee found himself chained to a pole with his wrists zip-tied behind him for ten hours at a time, praying that his captor would at least remember to feed him that day.

Whumpee started a pile of lights, darks, and colors, sorting each garment into its designated pile. Whumper remained in the doorway and watching his captive intently, his presence entirely unwelcome.

“So, um. Did you make something good for dinner?” Whumpee piped up, breaking the tension of the silence.

Ever since he’d been captured all his brain would fixate on was food, and the only thing he could think about currently was the sumptuous meaty smell that had been tantalizing his tastebuds for the past hour.

“Mmm.” Whumper nodded, crossing his arms and stepping into the room. “Roast chicken and mashed potatoes. Garlic bread too, just from the store.”

Whumpee’s eyes widened hungrily.

“No leftovers I’m afraid.” He added.

“Oh.” 

Whumpee crumbled in on himself. That meant no dinner tonight.

Whumpee opened the cabinet above the sink to retrieve a box of detergent. He popped off the lid and scooped the plastic measuring cup into the powder, leveling the mountain of excess with a swipe of his finger.

“You should wash your clothes as well, Whumpee.” The tall man remarked from across the room.

“Uh, yeah. I will.” Whumpee agreed, continuing to avoid eye contact. He placed the pre-measured cup of detergent on the counter, turning to gather up the sorted pile of white clothes from the floor. He chucked them into the washing machine, sprinkled the soap crystals on top, and closed the lid.

He really wished Whumper would go away now, but the tall man stood firmly in place. Whumpee knew where this was going.

“I said you should wash them, Whumpee. That means to take them off.” 

Whumpee stiffened. God fucking damn it. 

Not right now. Not that he wanted to go through this shit ever, but Whumper seemed to be in an especially odd mood this evening.

Whumpee did as he was commanded. It wasn’t worth the fight. He lifted his pale blue button-up over his head, not bothering to unclasp the buttons, and tossed it into the pile of colors. He removed his socks and pants and did the same. Finally he stood in nothing but his white boxer-briefs, awkwardly shimmying them down his thighs until they slid down his legs and hung at his ankles. Blushing, he stepped out of them and walked over to the washing machine, chucking the underwear into the load of whites as it filled with water. 

A chill rocked his body when Whumper approached from behind.

The larger man pushed his hips into Whumpee’s back, pinning him squarely against the machine as it hummed to life. “Mmm. I should make you walk around naked all the time. Don’t you think?”

“It, uh… it gets really cold down here.”

“Psht.” Whumper draped his arms around Whumpee’s neck. “So I’ll buy you an electric blanket. That’d be nice, right?”

“Sure. But, please, I really do need my clothes.”

Whumper’s arms traveled down the sides of Whumpee’s torso and trailed inwards to find his ass. One hand delivered a crisp smack, which immediately left behind a glowing red mark. He smiled, scooping a buttcheek into each palm, jiggling what little flesh was there.

“Your ass is so tiny.” Whumpee quipped.

Yeah, that’s what happens when you average 400 calories a day for nearly a year.

“Yeah. I’m pretty skinny now.”

“You look good like this.” Whumper purred into his ear as he delicately stroked the length of Whumpee’s back. “But I do miss the ass.”

Time to go away now, Whumpee thought. Please, please just go the fuck away.

Whumper smacked Whumpee’s ass again, scooping it up and grinding the denim fabric on his crotch against the thin man’s perfect, bare skin while caressing his neck with his hot, wet tongue. He took Whumpee’s earlobe into his mouth and suckled it lightly, biting down on the soft flesh with only a tiny amount of pressure.

“Mm, you have goosebumps.” Whumper murmured with a self-satisfied grin. “Did that turn you on?”

Two of Whumper’s fingers traced the curvature of his ass and found Whumpee’s entrance. The digits dabbed at the hole gently, teasing and prodding the skin but never pushing inside. The firm touch sent an involuntary shiver up Whumpee’s spine. Whumper smirked at his reaction and nibbled at the side of Whumpee’s neck.

He was so cold, the warmth on his neck felt good. But nothing else did.

“I keep thinking,” Whumper cooed, Whumpee melting into him for heat. “Maybe it’s finally time to give your friends closure. Feels cruel to keep dragging things out like this. They need to stop looking for you.”

For the first time in months, Whumpee felt a vague twinge of hope. 

“What? You mean that you’ll--?”

“What I mean is, they’ll be looking for a body.”

Oh. Oh no.

“W-what?” Whumpee stammered. He twisted out from under Whumper, his chain rattling against the floor as he side-stepped his captor. “What does that mean?”

“I feel a little guilty about it. The search for you has been going on for ages, and now they’re bringing out helicopters and shit? That’s a waste of taxpayer money. The cops could be out there doing real good.”

“No. What did you mean by ‘body’?”

“I was thinking we could chop off one of your legs or something. Maybe just a foot.” 

“No!” Whumpee shrieked. “You can’t!” He delivered a feeble push against Whumper’s chest, pivoting out from underneath him. His heart was pounding in his ears so loud, he pressed his hands to cover them and doubled over in fear.

The reaction took Whumper by surprise. “Bad joke.” he offered, placing a calming hand on the other’s shoulders. 

It wasn’t a joke.

The tall man rubbed his captive’s back until Whumpee’s breath finally evened out. It felt like a betrayal, the way his body responded so well to Whumper’s comforting touch. He jerked away from the sociopath’s reach.

Whumpee blinked incredulously at the man, his cheeks burning with anger. “Don’t.” he spat.

“What?”

“Don’t you fucking dare--”

“Excuse me? Don’t I fucking dare do what?”

“Don’t fucking joke about mutilating me!” Whumpee shouted.

“Hey.” Whumper cautioned. “You’re being too goddamn loud right now.”

Whumpee was frenzied, his chain skittered around as he paced around in a tight circle, pulling at chunks of his hair.

“How long are you going to keep me here?!” Whumpee demanded. “How much fucking longer!?”

“As long as I goddamn like.”

“Just let me go. Just please…” Whumpee pled tearfully, his emotions see-sawing violently between anger and complete despair. “You got what you wanted from me. Why won’t you let me leave…?”

Whumper shrugged. “It never was a part of the plan.”

“Fuck you!” The captive yelled. “I fucking hate you!”

“Whumpee.” Whumper warned with a stern finger, “it’s time to shut the fuck up.”

“I HATE Y—!”

Whumper grabbed a length of chain from the floor and yanked it towards him, forcing Whumpee to the ground by the shackle around his ankle.

Whumper continued pulling the chain into himself, dragging Whumpee’s body across the cold cement floor with every tug. It all happened too quickly for Whumpee to process.

“I should bash your face into the concrete again.” He growled, standing over his collapsed body. Whumpee could taste blood in his mouth. “But I’ll give you one last chance. I guess I didn’t say it explicitly enough last time, so hopefully this time it fucking sinks in: you are here to stay. There will be no more talk of kidnapping, or rescue, or freedom, or fucking escaping. No more of that. You’re here. You’re mine. This house--no--this room, is your whole fucking world, and I am your god. Get used to it.”

Whumpee lifted his head slightly and shot a fiery glance in Whumper’s direction.

“You better wipe that look off your pathetic face while you’ve still got one.” Whumper flicked his switchblade open.

He lifted one of his boots and rested its rubber sole on Whumpee’s back, pressing him into the floor. Brandishing the knife overhead, he commanded Whumpee: “Show me why I choose to keep you around. Remind me that you haven’t fucking forgotten your sole purpose in life, or I’ll saw your leg off right fucking now.”

Face-down on the floor, Whumpee let out a sigh so small only he could hear it.

He knew what he had to do. He didn’t have any other options. Silent tears rushed down his cheeks and fell soundlessly to the floor.

And so out of self-preservation, Whumpee thrust his hips into the air and pushed his face to the floor, his bare ass on full display. He shifted weight into his palms and spread his legs out, his dick and balls tumbled forward, swaying slightly while he found his balance. His hands reached back behind him, blindly tracing the outsides of his thighs, following a line up and over to the round cleft of his butt cheeks.

Choking down a sob, he forced his ass apart. He disgracefully presented his hole before Whumper’s shining, ravenous eyes.

The captor’s jeans fell to the ground. The man dropped to his knees, settling himself in the space between Whumpee’s open legs. 

“When I’m done with you, you are going to fucking thank me like your life depends on it.”

The sudden, high-pitched beep of the washing machine pierced the quiet of the room, signalling that the washing was done. 

Whumpee didn’t dare move an inch.

“And after I’ve filled you up,” Whumper’s hot breath hit his ear. 

“You’re going to tell me exactly which limb to cut off.”

((more Whump oneshots))

[ronanziriano]

Tied and Beaten by Tatsuji Okawa (1904-1994)

[3-2-whump]

Tear-Filled Noncon (Mutual!)

it's a working title, I'm bad with titles

Continuation of this idea

Art here

TW/CW: because this is a continuation of the previous noncon idea, a lot of the same warnings will apply. Rape/Noncon, intimate whumper, obsessed whumper, domestic violence (including brief head trauma), some degradation, inner thoughts that go a bit dark. If I missed anything, pls let me know!

He turned the key slowly in the lock, opened the door as quietly as he could, and closed it equally as carefully behind him. Whumpee’s eyes swept over the living room. The apartment was quiet and dark, dimly illuminated only by the city lights in the window. More importantly, the door to the master bedroom was closed, with no light peeking out from underneath. Whumpee sighed in relief; he’d gotten away with it.

The next breath caught in his throat as he was body-slammed into the door. A large hand pinned both wrists above his head when he tried to defend himself from the unseen force. The other hand yanked his head back by his hair, eliciting a surprised yelp of pain. “Where were you?” a warm breath hissed in his ear.

Whumpee squirmed under his master’s punishing grasp. “I-I can explain-”

“Like hell you can!” The hand in Whumpee’s hair drove his head forward and smashed it against the door. Sharp pain unfurled in the back of his skull as stars danced across his blurry vision. “Your curfew is midnight at latest, and it’s nearly two in the morning,” Whumper's angry voice thundered past the incessant throbbing in his head. The hand on his wrists tightened into a bruising grip. “So tell me-” Whumpee cried out in pain as the hand in his hair pulled harder. “Where were you?”

“You’re hurting me!” Whumpee gasped.

“Well you’re hurting me!” Whumper let go of him at once, only to throw him to the floor of the entrance. Whumpee landed hard on his side. He reflexively tried to curl into a ball to protect himself, but within moments the man had flipped him onto his back to better climb on top of him. A loud ripping sound punctuated Whumpee’s whimpers in the darkness as his shirt was torn clean in two. “Coming home late at night, with no regard to my rules, and smelling like a cheap motel –wait…” Whumper’s eyes zeroed in on a necklace of hickeys that rested on the young man’s collarbone. He slapped him, once, then twice, then again. “Who gave you those hickeys?” Slap! “Who were you sleeping with?!” Slap! “Well, answer me, whore!”

Whumpee shook his head, the tears streaming down his face as he continued to beg for mercy. “Clearly you’ve forgotten who you belong to,” Whumper huffed. “No problem, this just means I’ve got to remind you!” He brusquely unbuttoned Whumpee’s pants and pulled them and his boxers down the young man’s trembling thighs. Whumpee’s pleas of “no, no, stop, please, stop” went entirely ignored as he was flipped onto his stomach. His begging took on a frantic pitch as his body started visibly shaking. He’d never been taken from behind before, and this new position made him panic.

“You don’t deserve to be fucked like a person, so you’ll take it like the wanton little bitch you are!”

“No, no, stop, please! I’m sorry, I’m sorry, please, no, I’m sorry!”

“Shut up!” Whumpee wailed as his hips were wrenched up from the floor and Whumper entered him without any prep or lube. The man was not gentle, far from it. Quick, desperate thrusts punctured him deeper than he was used to. It was the roughest he had ever been with him, unquestionably, feeling less like having sex and more like being torn in half. Stubbornly enough, Whumpee’s body reacted to these more intense sensations all the same, especially when the man on top of him continuously slammed into that sweet spot inside of him.

“Look at you,” Whumper commented derisively, a hint of bitterness in his gravelly voice. “Hard as a rock already, you slutty thing! You’d be happy with just anyone’s cock inside your ass, wouldn’t you?” Whumpee’s cheeks colored in shame as a shaky moan interrupted his pleas. “But you shouldn’t be; you’re mine!”

He felt a thin, warm fluid trickle past the cock pummeling his hole. The man above him crushed him further into the carpeted floor. “I own this ass, and it is mine to fuck,” he screamed, “you got it?! No one else’s, just mine!”

He didn’t have to see behind him to know he was bleeding. At least it makes Master’s thrusts a little less painful, he thought. That feeling of morbid relief alone made him cry even harder. What the fuck is wrong with me?

“Why am I not enough for you?!” Whumper’s voice wavered with emotion. His angry thrusts turned sloppier as he continued. “Damn it, and damn you! I gave you everything you could ask for; I gave you everything you could have needed! I fed you, clothed you, made you into the man you are today, so why?! What are they giving you that I’m not?!” The man’s voice caught on the last question. Whumpee felt small wet drops of liquid fall onto the nape of his neck. Tears? He realized with horror that Whumper was crying as he was raping him.

“M-Master, I-I’m sorry, please-”

“I said, shut up!” He pulled Whumpee back by the hips until he was flush with the older man’s pubic bone, burying himself to the hilt and spilling deep inside him. They stayed in that position for an uncomfortably long time. Suppressed sniffling sounds filled the entryway, and Whumpee knew they weren’t all coming from him. Whumper eventually pulled out, leaving his hole gaping and obscenely oozing cum. He settled on the floor next to Whumpee and repositioned them both onto their sides. “I love you, boy,” he murmured as he pulled him closer to spoon him. “I don’t enjoy hurting you, boy.” The tension gradually left Whumpee’s body as he accepted the forced cuddles. The man planted a kiss on the back of his ear, right above the barcode tattoo that marked him indelibly as property. The kiss was wet and tinged with sadness. “So why do you make me hurt you?”

-

Because what we do –no, what you do to me- is not supposed to feel good. How could it feel good? I didn’t want it, I don’t want it, and I will never want it, so why does my body betray me every time? What if it’s because you’re right? What if this really was my true purpose? To be nothing more than a pair of holes to fill and a body to break under yours? What if I am all those names you call me because I think this feels good?

And, what if I act out, do all the things I know will test your patience and make you rough and uncaring so that it finally hurts? So that it finally doesn’t feel good, and I don’t have to ask if my body and my mind are on the same page about me being violated? What if that’s why I make you hurt me? Would you stop? Would you hurt me more? Would it even matter?

-

That is everything Whumpee wanted to say. Instead, through a throat ripped raw from screaming, he rasped, “I don’t know.”

[defire]

Masterpost

Very active whump blog containing mature themes. Whump, survivors fiction, hurt/comfort, is a genre that focuses on suffering and the aftermath of suffering.

Favorite whump tropes!

Defiant/stoic whumpee

Living weapon!

Child abuse whump and minor and young adult whumpees

Gang whump/multiple whumpers

Captivity/pet/slave/conditioning

Punishment/humiliation

Beating/whipping

Restraints and threats

Nsfwhump--Rape, noncon, nudity

Tiny story details like, highway rumbling on the floor of a truck under whumpee's ear

Humor

Realistic caretaking with friction and PTSD

Back to the Dregs <Used-as-bait novella>

A young detective thought he'd left his problems in his past, but when he's kidnapped as bait for his gangster brother, he has to find a way to escape. Before they figure out his brother hates him.

Masterpost ao3 Amazon

The Ghost of Seattle <Living Weapon Book>

In post-apocalyptic Seattle, a boy becomes a living weapon for his abusive father. When he takes his life into his own hands and joins another gang, he believes he's now fighting for people that won't use him. But he is wrong.

Masterpost kindle book/paperback Ghost's theme song

Dance of Death <fantasy riches-to-rags book>

When a young noble finds out that her friends are being legally abused, she sees no choice but to take a political stand against it, using humorous comments that cleverly discredit her opposition. But she has no idea how far her enemies will go to crush her spirit.

Masterpost ao3 (nsfw version) Amazon (nsfw version)

Information on The Kill-Touch <novella coming soon>

My music (it's not whumpy it's just kind of autistic)

My favorite Tumblr whump stories (post)

[villainfucker]

jacking off to the sound of someone begging for mercy or crying. Send tweet.

[spicywhumper]

(NSFW whump) whumper dialogues

a few dialogue lines for intimate whumper, noncon stuff ahead. these are explicit.

tw: noncon, explicit language, forced pregnancy, underage, incest, dehumanization, blood, abortion.

"if you don't want it, why are you so wet/hard?"

"you feel so good, and you expect me to not fuck you like that."

"keep it warm and maybe I'll make you cum later."

"I don't like condoms, it's not that hard to get rid of possible parasites."

"I'll fill you up like a good dirty cum dumpster."

after licking fingers: "you taste so good, specially with blood."

"this wasn't supposed to happen, but then you had to be so pretty, so innocent looking."

"you enjoy it, don't you? the idea that you'll give me your pretty little babies."

"spit is all you gonna get, be fucking grateful."

"you're taking way too long to get to the ageof consent."

squeezing whumper's throat: "taking my cock so well, like the whore you are."

"fucking swallow it like a good bitch."

"who said blood is a bad lube?"

"mom is gonna kill us if she discovers, but it's her fault she made you so breedable."

"I love you, and I'll make you feel good."

[hurt-the-innocent-ones]

Whump Dialogue Prompts

(Feel free to use but please tag me! I wanna read what you make with these :D) (NSFW under the cut, minors dni)

Whumpee:

“No, stop—shut up, you’re lying! They wouldn’t—they’d never—shut up, shut up, shut up!”

“Please, no…not now. I can’t, please…please just let me rest…”

“Get the fuck away from me! No, don’t—get back—come anywhere near me with that and I swear to God you’ll regret it!”

“You’re fucking delusional if you think for a second I’d ever follow your fucking orders.”

Whumper:

“Hold still or I’ll re-tie those ropes so tight your hands will fall off.”

“If you’d just tell me what I want to hear…”

“This is to make you better, you know that.”

“I knew you were pathetic, but pissing yourself over a little pain is just gross.”

Caretaker:

“Shh, it’s okay. I know, I know it hurts but shh, you need to keep quiet, stay still, it’ll be okay, just calm down…”

“You’re gonna be okay, you hear me? We’ll get you out of here, we’ll fix you up, good as new, I promise. No, don’t try to talk, save your breath.”

“Why the fuck didn’t you tell me it was this bad?”

“Fuck, what did they do to you…oh God, you’re awake? No, it’s okay! It’s a good thing, it’s good, you’re doing great. Talk to me, tell me anything, just stay awake. Eyes on me.”

NSFW (TW)

Whumper:

“A pretty thing like you should’ve seen this coming.”

“And here I thought I was fucked up. Are you seriously getting off on this?”

“If I stop, what will you do for me in return?”

Whumpee:

“No, please, not that—please, please no, anything but that, not again!”

“What…wait, what are you doing—no, stop! Stop! I said stop!”

“No…no, you can’t! I’ve never—you sick fucking—wait, wait, please wait, I—you—prep me first, please, I’ll tear, you have to prep me first—”

Caretaker:

“Where are your clothes? Why are you…oh God.”

“Oh God…tell me [Whumper] didn’t…”

“No! No, I’d never—I’m not going to do that. I was just trying to help you change your clothes, remember?”

[montammil]

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.