#contortion whump

[whump-card]

Ok I think with your style of drawing- how about whumper standing behind whumpee and grabbing their chin with their thumb pressed against their bottom lip- and add a knife being slipped into their open mouth?

😌I hope you enjoy....

Art taglist: @angst-after-dark, @whumpsday, @flowersarefreetherapy, @rainydaywhump, @softvampirewhump, @burnticedlatte, @whump-me, @honeybees-125

[employee1618152017]

bestie I'm going to be real with you it's not interesting to see your reaction to getting your hair pulled :[ not like "its boring" kind of not interesting i mean "there is litterally no point its just mean" :{

[feversprouts]

There’s something so special about the most classic depiction of illness in whump fics that I can just never get enough of

The whumpee with that cold, damp rag laid gently across his forehead. His features contorted, expression pained even in sleep as a fever absolutely siphons his strength. The flushed face, furrowed brow. Sweat never seeming to stop as his body burns up, shivering despite the heat

And don’t even get me STARTED on the caretaker sitting at the side of the bed. Looking all worried and gently pressing that hand to his cheek with delicate care. I simply cannot

[macknus]

Febuwhump: Day Five

Prompt: Not Trusting Reality

Caretaker ran ahead of Team. They made sure Whumper wasn’t home before rushing in, the rest of the team clearing the house while Caretaker ran downstairs to the basement; to Whumpee.

They flicked on the light as they reached the bottom and gasped. Whumpee was chained to the back wall. Her arms were spread wide to her sides, shackled at the wrists while a thick metal band was wrapped around her throat. She was in scraps of clothing. Her bralette and what looked like boxer shorts.

She didn’t lift her head when the lights flickered. Fear grabbed Caretaker’s throat and forced their limbs forward, mumbling Whumpee’s name. “No, no, no. Whumpee, please… please don’t be dead.”

Caretaker grabbed her cheeks in his hands, lifting her heavy head. God she was so much skinnier than last time he saw her… what did— Whumper would pay for what he did to her. Caretaker would make sure he’d suffer.

Whumpee moaned. Caretaker’s heart fluttered in his chest and he gasped. “Whumpee, hey,” he said softly. “Whumpee it’s me. It’s Caretaker.”

Whumpee opened her eyes. For a moment she stared at him as if he were a ghost. Then recognition flashed across her eyes. “It’s me,” Caretaker continued. “I’m here with team. We’re here to rescue you.”

Whumpee’s eyes widened with fear. “No! No! NO! NO!” Whumpee screamed, thrashing in her restraints. “No! NO! NO! NO! I WAS GOOD! I WAS GOOD! PLEASE YOU PROMISED!”

Caretaker grabbed her, trying to still Whumpee’s jerking movements that looked painful. Whumpee’s head shot forward, neck straining as she gnashed her teeth at Caretaker going to bite him.

Caretaker recoiled. “Whumpee! It’s me! It’s real.”

“YOU PROMISED YOU WOULDN’T MAKE ME SEE THEM ANYMORE, PLEASE WHUMPER! PLEASE!” She wailed like a banshee. “I was good! I was good. I have been so good. I obeyed. I followed the rules. Why?! Why! Why! WHY! WHY!”

“Whumpe—”

Rage contorted Whumpee’s red face. “GET AWAY FROM ME!” She roared. Then she started growling and snapped her head back against the concrete wall of the basement. Caretaker lurched forward, putting a hand between her head and the wall.

“GET AWAY! GET AWAY!” She didn’t stop trying to slam her head against the wall. She was acting like a wild animal, thrashing in the chains that held her firm.

“Caretaker?” Leader asked as he descended the steps. He paused when his eyes found Whumpee. Caretaker turned his pleading gaze to Leader.

“Help me! I don’t know what he did. She— she… she doesn’t think it’s real. That we’re… actually here.”

Whumpee slackened when she saw Leader. All of a sudden her fight left her and she went boneless in the chains. Leader stepped in cautiously, a warm smile on his face.

“Hey, Whumpee. You remember me?”

“I was good,” she whimpered. “Please, don’t. I was good. I’ll be good. I’ll be… I’ll be better I promise.”

“Whumpee, it’s Leader,” Caretaker said, but Whumpee trembled in her chains. Tears welled behind her eyes as she kept her head bent. Submissive.

“Please. I was good. I’ll be good, Whumper, please.”

Leader and Caretaker froze. “Whumper… please stop. I can’t see them. I can’t see Caretaker, please, I was good.”

Rogue barrelled down the steps. “Guys, what’s the hold up?”

She was walking towards Whumpee before Whumpee could cry out or protest. She lifted her hands to the chains and they burned a radioactive red, melting the chains that held Whumpee to the wall. First on her hands and then the one with the collar around her neck.

Rogue looked at Caretaker pointedly. “Well? Grab her and let’s go.”

Whumpee looked up with wide eyes. “W-what?” Her hands fell heavy to her sides, slapping against her thighs. She glanced at Leader. “What’re you doing? Stop it! You— you never made them free me.”

“Whumpee, I’m not Whumper,” Leader said, his voice thicker than before.

“Don’t— Stop them! No! Get off ME!” Whumpee screamed as Caretaker picked her up bridal style. She thrashed in his hold, but he held her firm as she squirmed.

“Stop! STOP! NO! WHUMPER I DON’T WANT THIS! I DON’T— I’M SORRY!” She screamed as Caretaker walked past Leader and took to the stairs.

Leader stood frozen, staring at the place Whumpee was. Whumper had… Whumper had made her think that Leader was… Leader was him? A hand on his shoulder startled him and he glanced up to see Rogue, her face impassive but he could sense her unease.

“We’ll get her back, Leader. We’ll undo what Whumper did to make her think that you… are a threat.”

“I…” Leader began, but words caught in his throat. What could he even say?

“Come on,” Rogue said, turning him and pushing him ahead of her to the stairs. “Everything will be fine. We have her now. She’s safe.”

Leader couldn’t stop the knot of dread tying itself in his gut. Whumper would… he tightened his hands into fists and took a deep breath.

No. First, get Whumpee better. Then… then they can get revenge.

*~*~*~*~*

Tag-list: @whump-in-the-closet

[hunterscabin]

Everything Goes Wrong

Summary: Dean is there to comfort his little sister after she suffers a fatal injury while hunting.

Pairings: Dean x Sister!Reader; Sam x Sister!Reader

Warnings: Angst; hurt/comfort; whump; death

Word Count: 1.3k 

Author’s Note: Requested from anonymous many moons ago. 

Dean. He was running toward you, screaming your name. You couldn’t comprehend his urgency; the leviathan were dead, the fight was over.

It all happened so quickly. You walked into a battle already underway. A small group of hunters also trailing the levis were first to arrive at the hideout, complicating an already dicey hunt. At the sight of their chaotic fighting, it became immediately clear that none of them had the tact or skill of a Winchester. Your brothers took action, causing two of the chompers to flee. Dean tossed one of the rookie hunters a sack of crude borax bombs and instructed them to capture the runaways. Sam crossed the warehouse, distracting one of the remaining leviathan. Dean took advantage of his brother’s diversion, driving the righteous, blood soaked bone he brandished deep into her skull.

On the other side of the abandoned stockroom, you were taking a beating from the last leviathan. He had been momentarily stunned by the bottle of borax you smashed over him, but his resiliency was remarkable. Almost immediately regaining his composure, he flung you into a pile of scrap metal. You scrambled to your feet, unsheathing your knife in the process. He made quick work of disarming you before effortlessly pinning you against a steel support beam. You winced, preparing for the worst, when suddenly, he retreated. Your eyes opened to find Sam impaling him with the bone several yards away.

High off the action, your entire body pulsed with energy. Or was it throbbing? Normally, the adrenaline of a hunt didn’t make you this… this… what was this feeling? You heard Dean shout your name again. Why did he sound so strange? A warmth spread across your stomach, and you looked down to find a mess of red. Blood? Your blood. Soaking your clothes and pooling at your feet. Bewilderment washed over you as your fingers wrapped around the handle of your blade. 

Just as Dean reached your side, your legs buckled. He braced your fall and carefully lowered you to the ground.

"Sammy!" Your eldest brother’s voice was gruff and full of urgency.

Consumed with killing the leviathan, Sam had been unaware of the commotion behind him. When he turned to see you bleeding in Dean’s arms, Sam shot up and sprinted toward you. He landed hard on his knees in front of Dean.

"Just the knife?" Sam’s eyes darted rapidly up and down your trembling form, trying to assess the damage.

Not wanting to speak the words, Dean nodded, his expression telling Sam the severity of your injuries.

“The car’s too far.” Dean thought aloud.

Sam wrestled with his next move. He didn’t want to leave you. He knew your chances of surviving were slim. He heard it in Dean’s tone. He saw it on your bloodstained clothes. Still, if there was even the slightest chance of saving you, he had to try.

“I’ll see if I can catch up with the other hunters.”

Both men knew it wouldn’t be enough, but it was the best Sam had to offer. Dean nodded reluctantly.

As your brothers’ muffled voices became more clear, so did your reality. The once dull pressure was now a searing pain. Your body screamed and your face contorted.

"Y/N, look at me.” Your eyes, wide with fear and confusion, found Sam’s. "You're gonna be okay. I’m going to get help.” 

Sam leaned forward and pressed a long kiss to your forehead. “I’ll be right back, Y/N/N. I promise.”

Through a large, broken window, Dean watched Sam tear across the field and into the nearby woods. When he glanced back at you in his arms, your eyes were closed.

"Y/N, you gotta stay awake." Dean gently shook you until your gaze met his. "That's my girl."

"So tired, De." Your groggy voice begged for sleep.

"I know you are, kiddo, but I need you to keep your eyes on me.”

"Too hard,” you murmured, “Can’t do it."

"Yes you can, sweetheart." Dean was no longer able to mask his concern. "How can I help, Y/N/N? Tell me what to do."

Your brother’s desperation lifted the fog numbing your senses, and you clearly understood what you hadn’t before; you were dying. Anyone else would panic at this realization, beg their God for more time, cling to the last bit of life and fight. Not you. You woke every morning knowing this was a possibility. Saving people, hunting things; it was a dangerous road.

You weren’t bitter; no matter how menacing, your days were full of purpose, and that wasn’t something most people could say. You weren’t afraid; years of close calls had prepared you for this moment. You were, however, insurmountably saddened by the fact that Dean had to watch you die. You knew he would bear the weight of your absence completely despondent and guilt ridden. There was so much you wanted to say to ease his inevitable grief, but talking had grown increasingly difficult as words and breath eluded you. The most you could do was take the hand of solace Dean extended. You silently prayed that would be enough. 

"Tell me a story."

Dean smiled. Between your sleepy eyes and the way you were curled in his arms, it felt like you were little again.

“Have I ever told you about the day mom and dad brought you home from the hospital?”

You shook your head “No.”

“Sammy was not happy.” Dean gave a weak laugh remembering how ornery his brother had been. 

“He locked himself in his room. I tried to tell him that having a little sibling wasn’t all bad, but he wouldn’t listen. Dad had to take his door off the hinges to get him out.”

“He loves’me now.” you noted dreamily.

“He sure does.” Dean agreed, furrowing at your slurred speech. Another sign that your body was succumbing to its injuries. 

“That phase lasted less than an hour,” he continued. 

“Wha’happn’d?”

“He held you.” Dean’s voice was thick with nostalgia. “Mom convinced him. He sat in Dad’s chair, and she laid you in his lap. He wasn’t sure at first, but then you smiled.” 

Despite your pain, a contented grin eased across your face. 

“Just like that.” 

“D’d you hold me?”

Dean nodded. “You were so small, but I swear your eyes were as big and Y/E/C as they are now. I stared at you for hours. I never wanted to let you go.” I still don’t want to let you go. 

Dean paused to clear the sadness from his throat, but he was losing the battle against his emotions. He could see your eyes growing dim and feel your skin getting cold. You didn’t have much longer. 

“I love you so much, Y/N/N.” Dean’s words were short and breathless. 

“I love you too.” 

Dean pulled you closer and placed a warm hand on the side of your face. 

“De?” A small, crimson spot appeared at the corner of your mouth. “C’n I close m’eyes, now?"

At once, Dean felt everything and nothing. He knew the instant your eyes closed, he’d never see them again. He cursed himself for bringing you on such a risky hunt. He cursed himself for not keeping a better eye on you during the fight. He cursed Sam for still being gone. Not because he thought his younger brother would bring anything or anyone to save you, but because he knew how broken he’d be, returning to find his little sister asleep forever. He wanted to shake you, to scream, to do everything in his power to ensure your heavy lids didn’t fall, but he refrained. He knew this would be the last comfort he could ever give you. Dean surrendered to his heartache and let you slip from this world.

"Yeah, baby girl. You can rest now. I’ve got you.”

Masterlist

[whumpsoda]

Seeing Me in You - Unboxing

Masterlist

cw: pet whump, box boy universe/bbu adjacent, institutionalized slavery, conditioned/brainwashed whumpee

——————

Ever so anxiously fearful, he had safely arrived to his new home. After so long of training and treatment, he had been prepared to perfection for his purpose. He was going to finally be put to use.

His trip to delivery had proved painful, even if he was used to dealing with common afflictions. Such a tight cage was unfavorable for his hulking frame, and the constant, numerous shakes and bumps of the truck formed noticeable bruises over his skin, and a sour throbbing in his head.

Thankfully, 374629 wasn’t meant to look presentable. Especially not pretty. He knew he wasn’t, having been utterly made sure of it. Not average looking, even, but he was never meant to be. He certainly was not a romantic, nothing anyone would purchase depending on his level of attraction.

Once set to the ground below his master’s doorstep, he made a point not to listen into the muffled conversation mushing together like cotton clouds above him. Reducing it to a buzz in the back of his mind, he kept his brain nice and blank. His belly still whirled in a mixture of terror and excitement to be inches away from his owner, and minutes from finally being introduced to them.

He could clearly hear as the employees transporting him finally left, leaving him alone with his owner. Leaving him to begin his new life.

374629 froze rigid as light began cracking and seeping into his crate, flooding his face with warmth and blinding brightness. On instinct his eyes shut and wound tight, body curling into itself further.

He hoped his master would be a good master. Didn’t everyone? Every master would be good of course, he had to be grateful to have any master at all. He was lucky. Maybe they would be just like his handlers in the facility. He couldn’t help but wish they were. As much as he was in no place to have preferences, he would have liked the familiarity.

But as his master ever so carefully opened his box, revealing more and more of his face, 374629 couldn’t help but on instinct catch a tiny look. And his master was frowning.

It was obvious he was attempting to hide it, lips curling up ever so slightly, almost unnoticeably so. The fake, half smile failed to meet his solemn, moistening eyes that glittered in the light. Not only was he obviously unhappy with his delivery, but his master was crying.

As 374629 turned back away, he could only hope it was his pet’s unsavory predicament that he found so foul.

Covered in his own grime, tears and sweat, boxers shriveled and dirty, his burly figure was contorted every which way inside of his box. His collar wasn’t even a nice leather, rather cheap and itching raw, red marks over his neck.

Maybe his master had never ordered a boxie before. Maybe he didn’t realize his pet would arrive so disheveled.

“S- sorry,” the man sniveled, wiping his eyes with clammy knuckles, “This is just… a lot. More so for you, of course.” 374629 could sense the slightest of a soft smile in his voice, pulsing warmth through his pet’s butterfly-filled belly. 

374629 didn’t know if he was meant to respond. He knew his rules well, repeating one specifically like a mantra in his mind. Do not speak unless spoken to, he told himself, over and over again like the handlers had. But he’d never had someone, let alone a person, apologize to him. Apologize! How could he possibly know what to do?

“Ye- yes, sir.” He squeaked out, meek and shaky. He winced, expecting a quick and burning shock to the throat for his misbehavior - hesitating and stuttering - but, while no longer wearing his training collar, such a punishment never came. 

Eyes peeking open once again, 374629 fixated his vision on the wood paneling of his crate. Pets are never allowed to look their master in the face, he told himself, both reminding him of the rules and silently chastising himself for having the urge to do so a second time. He hoped his owner had noticed his previous mistake of doing so, so that he could receive needed discipline for such unacceptable behavior.

“Hmmm… how about we get you up and out of your box, okay?” His master commanded, although spoken strangely. As if it wasn’t a command, rather a question, but 374629 knew very well that it was. Commands were one thing he was good at knowing. “Unless you feel more comfortable in there, then-,”

Before his master could continue, 374629 swiftly and clumsily stumbled from the confines of his box, plopping to his knees beside it. Again he fixed his gaze somewhere beside his master, this time the concrete floor of the hallway, as much as he wished he could look to the man for approval.

“Oh.” 

The pet tensed. Did he do something wrong? He failed to discern an emotion from his master’s lack thereof, causing his stomach to quease with uneasiness. 

“That’s okay. That’s good, yeah.” The pet could have sighed in relief. “Now, can I ask you a question?”

374629 tensed once again. Another question. He was so terribly confused. Why was his master asking him? Permission, even? It had to be a trick. A test, to see how well he’d been trained, an easy on at that. 

“A master does anything they so desire.” He neatly recited, a smile nearly tugging at his lips. 

He was being such a good boy. Back at training he would have received a quick and concise good by his handler, and the thought of praise, no matter how little and insignificant, could have him practically drooling.

For a moment, his master paused.

“I guess I should’ve expected that.” He whispered, more so to himself than his pet. His tone almost shone disappointment to his words, a realization that could have brought rich bile flooding his pet’s mouth. “I just wanna know, um, what’s your designation?”

He didn’t even need to think to formulate a reply. “WRU, facility 034, Guard Dog 374629.” He recited on the instant, words rolling off his tongue with perfected memorization. His designation was beat to memory, coming completely and entirely natural to him. In the whole interaction, that was one thing he was sure of.

He heard his master swallow, thick with saliva that danced down his throat. “Guard dog?”

“Yes, sir.” He responded, without falter, and utilizing his deep, low chords.

“Me too.”

——————

Masterlist

Taglist- @softvampirewhump @3-2-whump @taterswhump

If anyone wants to be removed or added to the taglist, please let me know! :)

[oros-ash3s]

spin a wheel (or just pick any) of your ocs and tell me some fun facts about them!!!!

Decided to do Felix and Reagan since they’ve been on my mind a lot ever since I revamped them and their story ｡𖦹°‧

Felix ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁

⟢⠀He was in gymnastics for a very long time, and due to this fact, is very flexible. He loves contorting his body in weird ways to freak Reagan out and doing handstands and flips and cartwheels around the house.

⟢⠀He only uses cat emojis

⟢⠀He has had numerous ear infections due to DIYIng his own piercings.

⟢⠀He babysits a lot as a way to make quick money and is actually very good with kids, despite his intimidating aura.

⟢⠀Has killed a man before.

⟢⠀His loves fried dumplings, something that was kind of a regular food in their house. Despite being a terrible cook, he’s very good at making them. It’s like the one thing he was able to master.

⟢⠀He snores REALLY loud. He may be pretty during the day, but when he sleeps he looks downright ugly. Drooling, snoring, mumbling and talking to himself. Sharing a bed with him is impossible.

⟢⠀Haunted by eldritch horrors…………….

⟢⠀He’s very particular about his physical appearance and prides himself on being sexy and fashionable. His favourite feature about himself is his hair.

⟢⠀Boasts about being taller than Reagan even though he is NOT. She’s like three inches over him but this kid is seemingly delusional and fully believes he’s taller.

⟢⠀He’s colourblind

⟢ His hair is naturally very curly, believe it or not. The bowl cut is actually a wig that he wears RELIGIOUSLY because he thinks that he can somehow make them “in style”. (This all started out of spite and now he does it for the bit.)

Rea ⋆. 𐙚 ̊

⟢⠀She’s fluent in English, Spanish, Vietnamese, Mandarin, French, and Patois.

⟢⠀She was going to go to college for classical literature and gender studies but had to give up that dream when she took guardianship over Felix. She instead went to community college and became a baker, which became something she quite enjoys.

⟢⠀Has covered up murder before.

⟢⠀ She has one of those wallets that hold like a billion photos, and all the slots are filled with pictures of Felix through the years. She frequently shows them off when she goes shopping to the cashiers.

⟢⠀She really loves scrapbooking. It’s a hobby she has picked up in the rare times that she isn’t working, and she has a bunch of them in a little shelf in her room.

⟢⠀Sees Felix as more of her son than her little brother.

⟢⠀She’s multi-talented, and actually was in a lot of extracurriculars when she was younger. She was in band, as well as multiple sports, and very involved with her school and volunteering in the community.

⟢⠀She’s driven by her fear.

⟢⠀She’s had a few past relationships, but they never stick or become something that Felix is really aware about because Reagan is too scared to bring someone else into their lives.

⟢⠀She’ll do anything to protect Felix. Even if it means going against her morals and hurting other people. She won’t allow them to take her little brother away.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

general taglist \\ @ohagiwrites @bloodinkandashes @corinneglass @icantthinkofablognameatm @vesanal @inky-anathemata @bioniclechronicles @seastarblue @gr3yhellh0und @aalinaaaaaa @shadow-of-tea-and-tea @robinshandhurts @ieppiq @sugaredparchment @lunaeuphternal @ifmasonbasonwasawriter @steh-lar-uh-nuhs @blackboxwarrior-mkultra @lancedoncrimsonwings @sharkblizzardblogs

art taglist \\ @ohagiwrites @cepheusgalaxy @vesanal @aalinaaaaaa @write-with-will @sunflowerrosy @toads-and-gremlins @whump-till-ya-jump @sugaredparchment @lunaeuphternal @bioniclechronicles @thisisalljokersfault @blackboxwarrior-mkultra @yourpenpaldee @birdfrenchforbird @hansenesque @nrivanwrites @corinneglass @fizzydreamz @carb0n-m0n0xide @silly-scroimblo-skrunkl @ieppiq @fangedcinnamonroll @sockfleecy @seastarblue @mapplesand @cacophonyofwords @the-one-the-fool @shadow-of-tea-and-tea @nightmaricwriter

[serickswrites]

Hello again!! I was just wondering if you'd be willing to write some Hero whump with forced caretaking from the Villain??? Only if you want to!! Your writing is the best!

Hello, Anon! I can definitely write this for you! Please enjoy

Warnings: captivity, torture, barbed wire, blood, restraints, torture, infection, caretaking as a form of whump, unconsciousness

Villain smiled as they stared down at their victim. Hero was slumped over in the chair Villain had bound them to, blood flowing from their wrists and chest where Villain had wrapped them with barbed wire. Hero had passed out hours ago and hadn't woken yet.

"You are a delight to see," Villain purred as they lifted Hero's head to admire the cuts along Hero's jaw. "Ah!" Villain shouted as they dropped Hero's head. "You're burning up."

Villain tapped Hero's cheek. "Wake up," they ordered. But Hero didn't reply. "Fucking wake up."

Hero didn't wake.

"I said fucking wake up," Villain growled as they pressed on the largest cut on Hero's chest, pressing on the red, inflamed skin. Hero's face contorted with pain, but they didn't wake.

"Damn it," Villain said as they stopped trying to force Hero awake.

They knew what they had to do. Even though they didn't want to. They had to if they wanted to keep playing with Hero. "Don't say I never did anything for you," Villain muttered as they, with gloved hands, carefully unwound the barbed wire. Blood streamed down Hero's wrists and chest as Villain pulled the barbed wire free.

But still, Hero didn't wake.

Villain carefully lifted Hero in their arms. "You can't ever mention this to anyone," they said to the unconscious Hero.

Villain deposited Hero into the tub, turning the taps so that only lukewarm water would flow. "I'm just doing this because I want more time to hurt you. Don't get confused."

Hero didn't reply.

"Besides," Villain said as they watched the water rise, "this could be fun as well."

Hero's eyes flew open in time to see Villain push their head below the surface. "So much fun."

[redd956]

Little things in whump/Ideas: Nightmares

Oh boy! My specialty via experience, nightmare whump. Here's a lot of little things or whump ideas to play around with when it comes to whump with nightmares

Waking up panting and hyperventilating, the chest aching as it heaves up and down. The breath slowing and whumpee's shoulders relaxing as reality slowly hits them, until they're breaths shudder from their lips just out of fear

Clawing at their blankets and pillows, the fabric scrunching up

Whumpee kicking their legs first, and their arms waving around in their sleep far before they begin to thrash about

That where am I moment. Groggy eyes opening while whumpee has to take a moment to remember where they are

Feeling almost feverish, drenched in their sweat. Immediately once they wake they all sweat begins to cool, feeling almost like ice against their skin. That cold sweat.

Refusing to let anyone room or sleep with them, out of embarrassment or worry for if they have a nightmare

Caretaker waking whumpee, only for a frightened whumpee to latch onto them with hate and fear in their eyes. Caretaker is left to watch the fleeting glare turn into a softened sad look.

Falling off of the bed

Whumpee's partner feeling them shudder in their sleep

Viewing whumper as their sleep paralysis demon

Waking, adrenaline already pumping through the veins, fear flittering around in their chest. Then it hits them. Like a heavy weight, their limbs only seem to twitch before all the feeling of movement flees. The only sign of their growing fear is in their wide open eyes as sleep paralysis kicks in

A stifled cry, caretaker having to lean in just to see if whumpee is doing that while awake or asleep

The blankets and sheets always smelling like sweat from repeated cold sweat wakings

Seeing a lost friend in their dreams, and waking up with a crushing bittersweet feeling turning into a mournful yearn

Noticing hours after enjoying their breakfast that they've scratched themselves

Distant cries and yelps heard from across the house, Caretaker walking in to see whumpee's eyes still shut, but their face contorted with distress

Waking 👏 up 👏 screaming 👏 (bonus points: whumpee is overwhelmed by embarrassment from doing so)

Bonus:

The ultimate panic wake

Drenched in cold sweat, just managed to escape the claws of sleep paralysis, screaming and flailing at their surroundings for a moment before-

They plop back down, red in the face from embarrassment, pretending that no one, not even a godly entity, saw that

[seven-meds]

Have you seen Joker: Folie à Deux yet? If so, what are your thoughts?

Spoilers, obviously.

It was tonally and philosophically very similar to the first. And I suppose I have to come to terms with the fact that I'm part of the closest thing to a "target audience" that it has. Personally, I would have felt spat on and kicked like a dog had it depicted a charismatic criminal duo leading a revolution. My displeasure at the concept of a sequel centered around my belief that it would abandon its nihilistic, antagonistic perspective to give the average fan something they can easily get elsewhere. It's a belittling, hateful couple of films, which is what interests me. Whether they're good or bad is irrelevant. Whether they respect me as a person is even more irrelevant because I am not meeting them where they are at.

In many ways it was deeply erotic, fetishistic, and honestly pornographic. The treatment of Arthur is gratuitous in its sadism, it's often lip-bitingly intense. The pleasure it takes in torturing him is transparent, and so openly sexual. In the most obvious case: hands grabbing and clutching his clothing to strip him bare, the display of his contorted body and exposed stomach, water and paint dripping down his neck and onto his chest. If you prefer fandom terms, it's whump. There were a few instances where I thought it should have gone much farther, where the way it held back felt cowardly or dishonest. Was any of this its intention? Difficult to say. The line between the emotional intensity of sex and the emotional intensity of pain is hard to distinguish.

Arthur's relationship with Harley mirrors his relationship with his mother, someone else he has to put a mask on for. Her painting his face before allowing him to fuck her is the equivalent of her having put a paper bag over his head. I enjoyed her manipulative and unpredictable nature. She's attractive in the way Lou Bloom is. And the very immediate and inappropriate whirlwind relationship that spawns from two people who connect entirely through their own suffering is familiar.

Hurt and pain is an intrinsic part of Arthur as a character, he's simply designed to suffer alone. This is what makes him so incredibly easy for certain people to like. Maybe they feel similarly about themselves, maybe they like the idea of healing him, maybe they just like to watch harm befall a man until he breaks. There are many reasons to find him beautiful just as he is, even if he was never intended to be.

To me his story was taken to its logical conclusion, a conclusion it could easily have reached in the first. A different outcome would not have made sense. And despite it being so logical and obvious I didn't expect it to happen at all. But it did.

[whumpisgoodwhumpislife]

WHUMPCEMBER DAY 3

Begging

Content : plushie whump, psych whump, bad treatment of mentally ill.

I may or may not have issues with teddy bears

- Y-you can't do that. That's the only thing I can call mine. Dr Caretaker told me I could keep it !

Whumpee's voice shook as he spoke, trying weakly to get up to reach the doctor Whumper. The latter frowned as he took a step back and nodded sternly toward two orderlies.

- Caretaker is too soft to work here, I already told them.

The orderlies grabbed whumpee's shoulders and forced him to sit down on the padded floor of his cell. Lost in his drug induced daze, he didn't struggle. Dr Whumper lowered his gaze at the worn-out teddy bear he was holding in his hands. He slipped two fingers into the seam running across its neck and pulled lightly. The cracking of thread coming loose echoed in the padded room, followed by whumpee's distressed wail.

- Please ! Please don't! I'll be good, I swear, I'll be good ! I-I won't try to leave ever again, I promise!

Whumper looked down at him. The patient looked utterly pathetic, tears and snot mixing on his face as he stared with terrified eyes at his plushie. The doctor huffed.

- Grow up, whumpee. You can't be dependent on this stupid thing all of your life, not if you want to leave one day.

Another crack made whumpee cry out again, his face contorting in anguish. A bit of stuffing fell to the floor.

- P-Please ! I'm sorry please! PLEASE !

His voice turned to a terrified scream as Whumper separated the teddy's body from its head. Throwing both parts at an orderly, he gestured for them to leave. Crawling towards the bits of stuffing strewn on the padded floor, whumpee sobbed quietly.

- Please no, come back, please...

@whumpcember

[thehouseofwhump]

Strange Whump Trope

When the whumper kills the whumpee for what seems like the greater good (vise versa)

Now this trope is a whump in itself, because the pain that both parties feel…

It sometimes hurts the whumper inside to kill the whumpee, but at the same time the whumpee is now in agonizing pain due to their wounds (unless they were poisoned).

The whumpee’s gasps for air then turn into strangled breaths, as their muscles tense and their face contorts in pain.

And despite them being in immense pain, they now have no more energy to groan, let alone cry out for help. And as the whimper’s body weakens they just go limp and soon goes completely unresponsive.

As they lay there, the struggle to get in their last breath as time runs out and death creeps closer to them.

But eventually, the whumpee falls silent, as their time has finally come…

And now depending on the situation, the whumper can either feel liberated or absolutely distraught.

In that current moment it could be tearing them up inside. The action that they have just willingly commit, could really be a struggle for them to comprehend.

But this moment. Yes, this moment. Could be the best thing that has ever happened to them.

For the whumper, they may want that moment to last forever…

[unforgivenn]

SHACKLED BY ROYALTY

#3: The dance of pain

Previous/ Masterlist / Next

CW: Pet whump, violence, torture, psychological manipulation, dominating whumper, captivity, slavery, stress position, power dynamics

As Andrey's hand reached out for the knife, Noah's heart raced like a wild beast trapped in a cage, its frantic beats echoing in his ears, each pulse a drumbeat of impending doom. The glint of the blade sent a shiver down his spine, his mind swirling with horrific visions of what was to come.

"Please... don't..." Noah's voice quivered, barely audible over the thunderous pounding of his own heart. But his plea fell on deaf ears as Andrey's cruel smirk widened, relishing Noah's fear like a sadistic predator savoring its prey's distress.

With agonizing slowness, Andrey dragged the tip of the knife along Noah's chest, the cold steel leaving a trail of icy dread in its wake. Noah's breath hitched as the fabric of his shirt parted under the blade, exposing his vulnerable skin to the mercy of Andrey's whims.

Relief washed over him momentarily when Andrey placed the knife down, only to be swiftly replaced by dread as Andrey's hand reached for the whip. Noah had almost forgotten about the whip... almost.

The crack of the whip split the air, causing Noah to flinch violently at the sound. He couldn't fathom the agony of that thing lashing against his body.

"You're all bark and no bite, huh? Look at you," Andrey sneered, creeping up behind Noah, tracing his back with the whip. "You were cussing me out only a few minutes ago. But you're just a little pest, waiting to be squished when brought in front of fear."

"I'm not... I'm not just some... some pest..." Noah's voice trembled with defiance, but it was a feeble flame struggling to burn against the gale of Andrey's cruelty.

Andrey's laughter echoed in the chamber, a chilling melody that danced on the edge of madness. "Oh, but you are, pet," he taunted, his voice dripping with venom as he circled Noah like a vulture eyeing its prey. "A pathetic little pest, begging for mercy from its master."

With a snarl, Andrey brought the whip down upon Noah's back savagely. The crack of leather against flesh echoed through the chamber, sending shivers racing down Noah's spine as pain exploded across his body like wildfire.

He had never experienced anything like this before. His whole back was on fire, and he felt as if he couldn't do something as simple as breathe.

Before Noah could recover from the brutal hit, Andrey brought the whip down again, making Noah scream out loud from the searing pain.

"Not so mouthy now, are we?" Andrey mocked, bringing the whip down once again.

The crack of leather against skin echoed through the room followed by Noah's raspy screaming. His body convulsed with each brutal strike, his muscles tensing and contorting in agony. He bit down hard on his lip, the metallic tang of blood flooding his mouth as he fought to stifle the screams clawing at his throat.

Tears flowed down his cheeks, blurring his vision as he hung suspended in the suffocating darkness of his despair. Every fiber of his being screamed for Andrey to stop. To stop all of this. He just wanted to go back home to his mother. Was that too much to ask for? To have freedom?

Unfortunately for him, it was too much to ask for. If by any chance Noah had found the courage and lung capacity between the lashes to speak the same, Andrey would've probably left him half-dead in the chamber.

"With every lash, I will give you a rule to follow, and you will repeat after me. Understood?" When no response was given except for small sobs, Andrey grabbed Noah's hair, pulling his head back as the other cried out.

"Understood?"

Noah managed a weak nod, blinking through his blurred vision. Andrey decided to let the lack of a vocal answer slide, sensing Noah's unfamiliarity with his twisted game.

Another lash landed on Noah's back with a harsh crack. "You will address me as Sir. Using my name will only land you with more punishment."

Noah could hardly think, let alone be expected to repeat these sick rules that Andrey was concocting for him. A sob tore from his throat. Andrey only rewarded him with two consecutive lashes when hr decided Noah was taking too long to speak.

"I-I will address you by Sir."

"You will not show me any attitude."

With every rule, a white-hot searing pain overcame him from the whip.

"S-STOP! PLEASE!"

Andrey rolled his eyes, delivering another lash "Not what I want to hear, pet."

Noah felt his fingers growing numb, the cuffs digging into his wrists, raw and bleeding. "I-I will n-not show... atti-attitude," he stammered, his voice fading into a broken murmur.

"You will speak only when spoken to unless it's absolutely necessary."

A strained groan escaped his lips as his head lolled forward. A broken scream tore from his lips when Andrey dug his finger into one of his wounds. "Wake yourself up."

"I will- I-I will only speak when spo-spoken to..." Noah stuttered, his words muddled by tears and pain. He tripped over slurred words, simply breaking down into more sobs.

Each lash of the whip seared into his flesh, each command drilled into his shattered psyche, stripping away every ounce of his humanity until there was nothing left but a hollow shell, a puppet dancing to Andrey's twisted desires. Noah's eyes eventually closed, his head slumping forward as the much awaited unconsciousness welcomed him.

And in that suffocating darkness, Noah prayed for a miracle, a glimmer of hope to break through the despair that threatened to consume him whole. But in the heart of Andrey's chamber, hope was a fragile whisper drowned out by the cruel laughter of a tormentor who reveled in the suffering of his prey.

Taglist: @ash-reh @anutz1234 @miireux134 @whatwasmyprevioususername @nuriiz134

@parasitebunny @morning-star-whump (let me know if you want to be added or removed <3)

[creator-of-calm-queer-chaos]

You know what an underrated whump trope is?

Whumpee being on the floor on their stomach, desperately army crawling away from whumper, already in so much pain, when whumper stabs them in the back

And their face contorts in agony and their hand, outstretched to pull themself forward, spasms. They gasp for air, vision going blurry, as Whumper stands up, grinning. Whumper’s fuzzy form moves in front of them and that’s the last thing Whumpee sees before their head falls, and their hand goes slack.

The knife is still in their back.

[whumpthusiast]

So, my aforementioned story is titled Karma’s Bitch. It’s already at like 20k words but every time I open it I wind up rereading the whole thing and obsessively making changes.

I figure if I at least post the beginning and just get it going, it’ll force me to stop being a perfectionist.

So here’s a brief preview of Karma’s Bitch.

Masterlist

- contains kidnapping, mention of blood, gun threat, and the pov of a very annoyed woman

- the rest of the story will include things like: torture, knives, bloodloss, electrocution, role reversal, collars, starvation, dehydration, gags, begging, pet whump, non/ very dubious consent, and increasingly kinky behavior

————————————————————————————

It’s very dark in here. Dark and cramped, not to mention kinda cold. And it smells weird.

She’s never been in a trunk before. So far, not a great experience. Not that she’d ever expected it to be.

What the fuck.

She’s been kidnapped. Just yoinked right off the street. She was on her way home, minding her own business, listening to music as usual, and some absolute shithead grabbed her from behind. She didn’t have the chance to use her pepper spray or anything, she tried to but she dropped it, and she can’t help but be pissed off about it. She’s always wanted an excuse to use it on someone and she missed the perfect opportunity.

What the fuck, honestly.

She has no idea who this guy is (if it even is a guy but she’s pretty sure it is) or where they’re going, or why.

It’s objectively terrifying. It should be the scariest moment of her life. She knows that.

And yet, instead, it is really pissing her off. The more she thinks about, the angrier she gets, and, well - she’s got plenty of time to think about it.

She didn’t get to use her pepper spray, damn it. She did bite him on the hand pretty hard though, she’s proud of that, she can still taste his blood - ugh, I swear if I get a disease from that, I’m going to lose my shit.

But she’s been kidnapped. She’s the one being kidnapped. It’s just not fair at all.

He’s - he’s not even good at this. She groans in frustration, eyes rolling.

He tied her hands behind her back, but didn’t tie her legs at all. He just used one little piece of duct tape to gag her, she got that off with ease.

It’s almost insulting how low effort this is.

No, in fact, it is insulting.

She knows for a fact that she would have done a much better job than this, and she’s never even kidnapped anybody before. Thought about it, sure. But she’s never actually done it.

Is this his first time or something?

My god, it is. It has to be.

She got kidnapped by a beginner??

Oh, for the love of god.

She feels the car come to a stop not long after that, engine shutting off a moment later. A metallic rattling sound follows. She listens, puzzled, before identifying it as a garage door closing.

The sound of the car door reminds her to reposition herself. He’s expecting her to be a scared victim when he opens the trunk. What he gets instead is pent-up rage kicking him in the ribs with both feet.

She knocked the wind out of him, judging by the pained gasping from outside the car - but before she can contort herself around enough to get out of the trunk, he’s back up… and he’s pointing a gun at her.

God damn it.

————————————————————————————

@melpomenelamusa

[whumpsoda]

Seeing Me in You - Delivery

Masterlist

Wrote this on a whim :3 pretty short but who caresssss… might write more??? Might also delete later

cw: pet whump, threat of recapture, box boy universe/bbu adjacent, institutionalized slavery

——————

He shouldn’t have opened the door. Checked the peephole at the very least, as if that would have done him any good.

He could never have escaped them.

August stared ahead into the corridor of his apartment building, jaw falling slack as his mouth went wide and eyes stuck agape. A lump formed quick in his throat, tightly wound with sick acid burning a hole through his neck. His organs flipped and churned over one another, brain filling with flooding nausea.

WRU employees. At his house. August was going to be sick.

Were they speaking? Their voices reduced to a muffle inside his mind, hearing going blank. An itching sensation flared over his arm, just the spot where his tattoo was carefully shielded by his sweater. He lifted a hand to scratch at his throat, the place where a cheap collar had once sat and rubbed around his neck. The memories stung, yet not worse than the sight of such specific uniforms.

No, this was much worse.

His pulse was quickening my the second, heart beating in and out of his chest. He couldn’t breath. Warm, thick bile was slithering it’s way up from his stomach, twisting his insides in contorted knots.

They found him. After so long of comfort and faux personhood, they had found him. Come for him even, to take him back as their property. To refurbish him. To sell him and beat him back into shape, and to train him yet again-

Before August could so much as collect his scattered, bleeding thoughts of past horrors and tortures, one of the employee’s lips parted. “Would you like us to bring it inside? Or leave it here?” He muttered, so casual August almost couldn’t digest his words.

August, body filling ever so carefully with disbelief and panic, trailed his vision down to his feet where his eyes stopped. A large, nearly-fit-for-a-human sized box sat at the workers’ feet. He knew that box well. Very well. He’d been inside that box.

They weren’t here for him.

August could have jumped and squealed from a mixture of terror and joy that he was still safe, never to be recaptured and refurbished. At least, not yet, anyway. But there was a boxie in the process of a delivery at his apartment doorstep.

How could that be? How? What disgustingly cruel, rich asshole’s boxie was sitting inches away from him? Just waiting to be claimed as his own? And why?

His mouth moved swift beyond his own accord, mind gradually catching up with his quivering lips. “You… um, you can leave them there.” August croaked out, voice meek and continuing to waver no matter how hard he tried to hide it.

“‘Kay.” He shrugged, and that was that.

They didn’t suspect a thing. No idea they dropped the order to the wrong person, let alone a former boxie. How impossibly lucky for the poor thing. August could barely believe it himself.

He watched with intense focus as the two employees calmly and quickly left, keeping an intense eye on them just until they finally turned the corner. As if at the last moment they would realize their mistake, and either take the boy back, or end up taking him as well.

Careful and terrified, as soon as he heard the pitter patter of their steps dissipate, he turned to the box.

August, still standing rigid in the doorway, with intense fascination trailed his vision over each and every little ridge of wood and nails, eager yet terrified to open it. He swallowed, thick and juicy saliva that rolled it’s way down his throat.

What just happened?

—————

Masterlist

Taglist- @softvampirewhump

If anyone wants to be removed or added to the taglist, please let me know! :)