#fancy whump

[paintingaportraitofpain]

thinking about ballgowns being used in captivity, metal weights being attached to crinolines, the hems of floor-length gowns being glued to the floor, the top half of a whumpee able to move, but the bottom half completely trapped

[whumblr]

Whumper who keeps Whumpee locked up because "You're dangerous, sweetheart. You're a danger to society. Look at you, you can't even control yourself, let alone your powers." And has actually convinced Whumpee of that. Which gives them ample opportunity for punishment.

[thatsgonnaleaveamark]

this or that - whump tropes (42)

[whump-galaxy]

“Don’t cry, please. You’ll get your bandages all damp and we’ll have to change them again.”

[writing-whump]

Wip info: Shadow wolves

Story tag: #werewolf wip

Genres: urban fantasy, hurt/comfort, bromance, romance

Whump: mainly sickfics, emeto, injuries, concussions, heart condition, stress sick, daily and magical whump

Setting: collage in Vienna, contemporary

Tropes: found family, pack life, 20+ characters navigating uni and work, first serious relationship, stoic older brother, estranged younger brothers, siblings, sfw

Tw: family trauma, family abuse in the past, graphic descriptions of illness (vomit + sometimes scat), self-destructive tendencies

Story: Follows the formation of the Sonder pack, consisting of stoic and perfectionalistic psychology wolf* student Isaiah, the exiled heir of the biggest pack in Western Europe, an independent, feisty witch* working in research and obsessed with writing named Seline and a grumpy, boxing-loving wolf with temper problems called Matthew. Important characters include Isaiah's jealous and competitive younger wolf brother Hector and their youngest mouthy human brother Arnie.

*they don't actually turn into wolves, they are just born with demonic like shadows in their souls that have wolf characteristics and temper and give them their supernatural strength and abilities

*witches are only born in werewolf families, and need contact to wolves to use their magic. Very elemental, songs, writing and dancing oriented

[secret-whump-basement]

Whumper who sees their Whumpees as works of art. Living statues and paintings. Covered in their own blood, strung up in uncomfortable poses, bruised and cut, pieces of them cut off and maybe put in new places, harsh lights shining in their eyes. If only Whumper could show them off to a wider audience! But they have their small circle who come and ogle Whumpee

[waywardsalt]

2, 7, 19 and 29 for the writer ask thingy?

2 (a character whose POV you’re currently exploring): Bellummmm i’ve jumped ahead slightly in a fic to do a scene from his pov (cant remember if it was originally in his pov or not) and i do enjoy trying to figure out his pov in general, this current one is in the ship oneshot so its both trying to write and figure out how he thinks/speaks plus the challenge of him being nonhuman and figuring out how to describe movement. otherwise i have an eldin ring and a smt iv fic both rotting in my wips somewhere that take a look at the povs of my tarnished and flynn where the neutral route splits off respectively.

7 (your preferred writing fonts): i dont really pay a lot of attention to fonts, i just start up a new word doc and the only thing i might tinker with is the line spacing- i usually end up in some sort of calibri or aptos or whatever the default font is.

19 (the most interesting topic you’ve researched for a fic): yeah im gonna be totally honest here and admit that i havent done a whole lot of research for most of my fics. i looked up how to block a knife yeaaaars ago and some light stuff about. um. yeah honestly i havent done a lot of research specifically for a fic, i generally look into stuff when it comes up and i deem it important enough to the fic, and since i put the most focus on the characters it generally doesn’t come up. more often than not, i tend to use past, unrelated research and my own existing knowledge, anyways, and play into that more. i do, however, do occasionally smatterings of research into injuries and illnesses and mental illnesses and all of that, partially out of general interest, but also because i like to keep it in mind for fic purposes. i have genuinely considered looking into taking an anatomy class primarily for fanwork purposes (but i do think the subject is genuinely interesting too)

29 (how easy is it for you to come up with titles?): coming up with titles is my achilles heel it SUCKS its a hell of my own creation i struggle with it so bad that’s why half of my loz aus have little placeholder names and why half of everything else is a song lyric or some quote. i only have a handful of original titles and any of the good ones likely took me ages to come up with. i tend to fall back on some flavor of pun.

[befuddled-calico-whump]

i just found out about this "whump" thing recently and i can't tell if it's a softcore kink? or just "we like torturing sketchbook boys platonically." bc if it's the latter I'm gonna start using this tag

your work is in good taste, at least, i hope that's not an exception to the community! any idea where the name comes from?

Welcome aboard, hope it's not too intimidating 😂

Whether it relates to kink or not depends on the person, but a good deal of the community are very much the latter (great description for it skfjfj)

Whump covers a pretty broad spectrum really, you can have anything from "character has a fever and is being taken care of by their friends" to "extreme torture and recovery" to "emotional distress surrounding one bad event" and beyond. "Whump" is essentially a more focused hurt/comfort, and the degree of the hurt and comfort involved varies a lot depending on the story and person

Most people tag the content or have a warning before the story, so you'll usually know what you're getting yourself into. Tags/warnings that cover more extreme topics include "vivisection", "torture", or "gore" for the more gruesome physical aspects, and "dubcon", "noncon" and variations on those for stories that may include sexual assault, so if you're browsing the whump tag and would like to avoid that type of content, those are some tags you can block :)

Most authors/artists will also tag for the genre, so if you're looking for something specific, you can try tags like "fantasy whump", "pirate whump", "spy whump", "superhero whump", etc. Fandom whump is popular as well, so if you're looking for a specific existing character, searching "*character name* whump" may get you sone fics or art.

I'm glad you enjoyed some of my work :D If you're looking for more whump writing/art, I can recommend a few blogs:

@i-can-even-burn-salad writes fantasy whump, usually character-driven with a decent amount of plot. She has some gorier descriptions, but very fun characters

@redwingedwhump has written both fantasy and soft sci-fi/speculative fiction. A lot of the fantasy is set in a world inspired by dungeons and dragons so there's some fun magic and dynamics

@demondamage has art, comics, and writing centered on angels and demons. There's a big focus on the lab/medical setting and experiments

@whumpwillow has a hero/villain story that focuses on the recovery of the heroes' enemy, and a story about a demon who was accidentally rescued by a witch

And of course, there's so many more great whump creators out there. (This got a little long, hope you don't mind 😅)

To answer the last question, I'm not entirely sure, but I think it originated in the Stargate fandom. Either just a slang term, or referring to the noise a specific character made when falling/getting hit lol

Once again, welcome!

[selene-and-the-cold]

You know those movies or series where some 19th century or early 20th century scientists accidentally travel back in time or discover an unknown continent where dinosaurs still exist? So they have to fight dinosaurs, the elements and really struggle to survive in this unknown world?

That, only with one of them coming down with the most dreadful cold, or being injured and suffering from a high fever (or both, why not be greedy while I'm at it ^^)...

[theres-whump-in-that-nebula]

I wonder if we could start an ongoing whump community project where people can submit prompts and stories to be read by a cast of voice actors in their respective parts? Just for funsies and building acting skills?

[hardleyquinnn]

Hello, I am once again writing a story.

This is my caretaker (unnamed still) and Addison 'Fancy' Powell.

Addison was adopted (read, kidnapped) by a werewolf who kept her as a food source

caretaker is a hunter who ended up needing to take care of her.

I have a lot of fun ideas for the years of capture, but right now I'm writing post rescue because it's all I can think about.

I'm hoping to throw up some writing soon, and I hope someone likes it!

[trilliumprince]

Indebted

this is an au where seleien gets kidnapped by the man he's indebted to. hes not too keen on being forced into indentured servitude.

torture starts at part 5

general cws: captivity, coercion into signing a contract, indentured servitude (but the contract makes it more akin to slavery) (eventually), not sure how much this will actually come up but theres also a war going on, entitled rich person doing entitled rich person things,

other content: poc/nonhuman (elven) whumpee, fantasy setting, me not naming the country/relevant locations before starting,

prologue

part 1

part 2

part 3

part 4

part 5

[i-can-even-burn-salad]

Chapter 2 - Closed Eyes

Fancy Boots

And he continues to have a wonderful time, because I decided to share my migraine with someone.

Prev | Masterlist | Next

Riordan trudged down the road from the citadel into town. His feet barely lifted off the ground, nausea roiled in his gut with every step, and he squinted at the path ahead through almost closed eyes. Even so, the light of the afternoon sun bore into his skull, and the sound of birds chirping on the trees lining the path made him feel like his brain was turning into soup.

The way would have been fine—probably—had he left an hour earlier. But he had not. Instead, he had filled out the necessary paperwork, made sure to submit a note of his absence in the proper places, and handed a pile of his clothes over for laundry, because the clothes he was wearing at the moment were the last clean ones. Freya didn’t seem like the kind of person who would admonish someone for a stained shirt, but he wanted to make a good impression.

The impression he was currently making was anything but good. A group of travelers cast him questioning looks as they walked past him. He ignored the whispers behind his back and focused on setting one foot in front of the other. In the haze of growing pain and declining ability to focus, the course of action had been so clear to him: visit the people he felt safest and most comfortable with. But as the town came into view and he stumbled along the streets leading him to his friends’ house, doubt began to settle in his heart.

How rude of him to bother them once more during one of his attacks. He could as well have waited it out in his rooms. Sometimes, he did, but the citadel was not a quiet place, and he craved silence as much as he craved some company—company he knew he would be barely able to stand. So his friends would once again be walking on tiptoes around him, half driven by pity, and half by guilt that still lingered no matter how often he assured them it hadn’t been their fault.

When he arrived at their house, he made his way through a garden in full bloom and sat on the small stone step in front of the back door. Torn between longing and guilt, he buried his face in his hands. Pressing against his eyeballs didn’t help against the pain, not really, but it did elicit the illusion that as long as his eyes were unable to move, it would at least not get worse.

Slowly, he leaned back until his shoulder hit the door and he relaxed against it. Shit. Rude or not, he wouldn’t make it all the way back to the citadel before this attack was over. He could think about a way to make it up to them afterwards, but for now, his focus would have to stay on not throwing up on their doorstep.

The door opened. Riordan flinched. He tried to catch himself, but his reflexes were too slow. When he began to topple backwards, his fall was stopped with a knee between his shoulder blades. 

“Riordan?”

A hand on his shoulders replaced the knee, holding him upright as the figure stepped in front of him. He pulled one hand down and cracked his right eye open, meeting a concerned gaze from storm-gray eyes.

“Hey,” he croaked.

“Shit.” Merridy straightened up without letting go of him, kicking the door fully open. “Can you get up?”

He lowered the other hand as well but kept his eye closed as he grabbed the edge of the step. If he didn’t want to spend the next twenty-four hours or more on the ground behind her house, he had no choice but to get up. That didn’t make it any more pleasant. Pain shot through his head, but he gritted his teeth, glad that between Merridy’s hands and the doorframe, he was unable to collapse.

She led him inside and pushed him in the direction of a chair, pulling it out with one foot so he could sit down. He did so gladly, laying his head on his crossed arms and breathing slowly to combat the sick feeling in his stomach. He shouldn’t have taken a second dose, knowing so well that it would make the nausea worse. It didn’t seem to help at all, but every time he decided to stop taking the medication, a small voice inside his head wondered if it would be even worse without. He was not keen on finding out.

Merridy returned with Damien in tow. He didn’t say anything, he only put his hand on Riordan’s shoulder and squeezed it. Riordan relaxed ever so slightly, the touch a welcome distraction that grounded him without being too much.

Cupboards and containers opened and closed. Water splashed. Footsteps approached. Merridy didn’t say anything, either, but she took his arm and nudged him to get up. There was little he wanted to do less, but he couldn’t stay at their kitchen table—or in their kitchen, as tempting as the thought of curling up under the bench was.

It was his luck that he knew the house reasonably well. Clinging to Merridy on one side and the handrail on the other, he climbed the stairs, eyes squeezed shut against the pain. Any kind of exertion only made it worse; getting up had been bad enough, but stairs were a special kind of nightmare.

At the top of the stairs, Merridy gave him a moment to catch his breath before she nudged him onwards into the living room. When his toes hit the sofa, he opened his eyes after all, to make sure he was dropping down at the right spot. He all but fell onto his stomach, wrapped his arm around a pillow, and buried his face in the fabric. 

“Mpf.”

Gods, he was not going to get up again anytime soon.

The muffled footsteps on the carpet moved around him. Merridy closed the curtains, the sound of heavy fabric sliding over the wooden rods a familiar one. She grabbed his feet and pulled off his boots, pushing his legs fully onto the sofa. Next, she slipped the strap of the small bag he had brought over his head and pulled it out from under him. A blanket was tucked in around him and pulled up to his shoulders.

Damien entered the room. Riordan felt it more than he heard it. The sound of ceramic on wood promised a cup of water waiting for him, should he need it, and something was placed at his side, spreading blissful warmth across his skin. A hot water bottle, but not a metal one like the one his family always used. Instead, it was made from soft leather, which made it less hot, but much more comfortable to lean against. 

In the face of so much care, his bad conscience reared its head again. He had to pull himself together. He wasn’t dying, his head just hurt, and here he was, having them tend to him like he was a toddler. Pushing himself to the side, he squinted through almost-closed eyes. Damien was crouching in front of him. That was good. He didn’t want to speak, didn’t want to have his own voice tumble around in his head. 

“I’m sorry,” he signed, small and jittery.

Damien took his hand and squeezed his fingers before moving them.

“No. Sleep.”

The signs weren’t quite right, but close enough for Riordan to understand. His eyes burned at the obvious attempt to be quiet for his sake, and he pressed his face into the pillow again, because if he started to cry now, it would hurt so much more.

Damien was still holding his hand, so it couldn’t be his fingers brushing through Riordan’s hair. They pushed a few curls behind his ear before rubbing his temple. A second hand joined, tracing the tense muscles along his neck and shoulders, exerting a bit of pressure, but not enough to cause him more pain.

Riordan was aware Merridy knew where it hurt because he had told both of them about his frustration after visiting multiple healers with no success. That didn’t make it any less wonderful that she remembered. He willed his body to relax and his heartbeat to slow down, focusing only on her touch. For a moment, the pain faded, and that was all it took for him to fall asleep.

[ID: The banner shows the feet of two people wearing boots, sitting next to each other in the grass. The title fancy boots is written next to them in a fancy looking, curly font in a bright green to yellow gradient. All other images are purely ornamental lines. End ID.]

[obsessivevoidkitten]

Your Knight in Shining Armor

Kinktober 2024 Day 1: Whump Yandere Male Royal x Male Reader AND (separately) Yandere Male Dragon Hybrid x Male Reader CW: Painful noncon, blowjobs, minor physical abuse, verbal abuse, homophobia, internalized homophobia, bullying, kidnapping, minor character death, implied minor character murder, non-human genitalia, emotional trauma, angst, hurt with little comfort, humiliation, degradation, shame, a lot of crying, general yandere behavior, possessive yandere, whump, Dead Dove: DO NOT EAT Word Count: 3.5k (I decided to make my own list of kinks/scenarios for kinktober. I am only posting every other day and not everything is a full fic, though there are several full fics in the mix. This has been a labor of love for you my beautiful readers, please enjoy!)

The Prince of Thornhollow, Percival, was pampered and spoiled by his royal upbringing. He seemed to have been almost blessed. Not just by birth but also in ability. In contests with his knights, he was always the victor, and in his hunts, he had always been successful. The skill he possessed only served to grow his sense of superiority.

He also delighted in cruelty. All of this was unleashed upon castle servants. Since you were his personal servant, you suffered the most abuse by far. The prince tripped you, made fun of you, ridiculed you for the smallest things, and smacked you around whenever he was upset.

A few times he forced you to jerk him off and look at him while you licked the cum from his cock. He loved the humiliation in your eyes.

"You should be thanking me for letting you taste the royal seed with your peasant mouth."

It wasn't a suggestion. You had to thank him. He berated you afterward for being a girl and liking dick. It was an open secret that you fancied other men, and it was a favorite subject for Percival to pick at.

Sadly his sexual abuse didn’t end there. One time, when he was drunk on wine and you had been cleaning his chambers, he suddenly pinned you against the wall and kissed you roughly on the mouth. Sloppy and uncoordinated, you could taste the wine.

You flinched from his touch, sure that it was a cruel joke. And even if it wasn't your first kiss, you should have been from someone you loved, not someone you feared.

Percival grabbed your wrists to stop your squirming.

"Stop fighting, slut."

His words were harsh but his voice had a certain softness that you were not accustomed to from him. It was obviously the alcohol.

"You're gay, I'm an attractive man, I know you want this."

You yelped as he spun you around and grinded against your ass. You had no choice but to comply with his every whim... he was royalty. He nuzzled your neck and cooed into your ear.

"You're shaking so much, I bet your trembles will feel so good from inside you."

Percival pulled your pants down, followed by his. He took a gob of precum from his cock and massaged it into your hole.

"I bet you can't believe your luck, having the prince do this to you."

He slid a finger into you, followed by another. You wept silently as he squirmed inside your ass to stretch you out.

"I'm not a gay freak like you, this is just your reward for being such a good servant all these years. You deserve it."

The prince sucked and kissed your neck as he slowly pierced you with his cock.

You gasped for breath as the pain made you speechless. You would have fallen to the ground had Percival not been propping you up with his strong hands. There was a resounding smack as his nuts hit your ass with every thrust. You tried to squirm free, instinct overriding the attempt to obey a superior, but Percival wrapped his arms around you tightly.

"Just try to relax. You'll love it. I know you'll love my cock."

He nibbled on your ear and trailed kisses down your neck.

"Stop crying, you're being really ungrateful... it's starting to annoy me..."

He began going at a crueler pace in his frustration. He felt between your legs and you were barely even hard. He thought you'd love this, there were prevalent rumors that several knights had used you as a convenient cumdump and he was obviously better than they were. Of course, you were a virgin, and the prince was robbing you of your first time in the most brutal fashion.

After filling you with his cum he let you slump to the floor as he sneered.

He was still drunk, but his orgasm brought a bit of clarity, letting his elitism and internalized homophobia bubble back to the surface where it mingled with his disappointment and insecurity at the fact that sex with him wasn't enjoyable for you.

He was too ignorant to know that much better lube and stretching needed to be used while you were more relaxed. Percival wiped himself off with a rag and then threw it at you with a look of disgust.

"Clean yourself up, then get the hell out and don't let anyone know, or I'll cut out your tongue."

You wiped the cum and blood from you quickly and staggered to your feet before hobbling away while sniffling. He didn't do anything like that again, not even force you to suck him, but he did treat you worse for weeks.

His disposition finally went back to his normal level of disdain when he finally got his new set of enchanted armor. It was white and black, with silver and gold filigree. It became your most important set of tasks, fetching, polishing, and putting away his armor as well as helping him into it. Though even when it was perfectly polished, it was not unheard of for you to get a minor thrashing at the hands of the prince.

The life you had was pretty miserable. Even though the prince acted as a tyrant to his personal servant, you, he protected his and the crown’s image. It helped that the royal family's policies and skills at governing resulted in a fairly content lower class. Percival, especially, was beloved by many. The handsome prince with his blood red hair and muscular physique. He was quite charming and had drawn the affection of many noble ladies. This meant you couldn't find an escape or even speak badly about the prince because you would surely be ratted out.

So you went about tending to the prince as best you could and just hoping that he wasn't in a foul mood at any given time. But the prince wasn't the only thing you had to worry about.

There was a dragon-man hybrid, Rinvir, that had been attracted by a certain shiny gleam. He found that it was the valuable armor of the prince.

Of course, it may be good to have someone tend to the armor sometimes. Maybe they could polish other treasures for him. When he watched you shine the armor, he couldn't help but think how nice it would be to have your delicate human hands tend to his "sword" too. And maybe how good it would feel "sheathed" inside of you.

Rinvir wouldn't just mate with a human for such a flimsy reason, so he stalked you and the prince. Whenever he was hunting with you as his assistant, whenever you were in the training fields helping him put on his armor, whenever you were alone and tending to your outdoor duties.

He hated the prince but fell deeply in love with you. You were so kind and soft-spoken, so diligent with your work no matter what the task.

Rinvir wanted you even more than the immensely valuable armor. He still wanted the armor in his hoard, though, too. It would spite the prince nicely.

The dragon-man waited until a lovely clear day when you were just about to help Percival into his armor. He was screaming at you to hurry up as you were struggling with its immense weight. Rinvir swooped down and snatched you right up, armor and all. A flash of shiny blue scales was all the prince saw before you were gone. He stood there dumbfounded for a moment before collecting himself.

"But... that one was... mine..."

He had to have yo-, no, his... armor back. It was so valuable and had been forged partly by magical means. Luckily, his father, the king, agreed. It was an insult to their rule to let such a slight go unpunished.

Dragon-men were strong, but the prince had a good number under his command, his own talents, and the magic of the court wizard backing him up. He'd have his precious peasant back by any means! And this time, he'd not let silly shit like fear of rumors and homophobia stop him from holding you close in bed while rearranging your guts.

Oh, uh... and he'd have his fancy enchanted armor back... that was what he was really worried about... the armor... yeah...

Meanwhile, at the formerly abandoned lakeside temple that Rinvir called home, you were crying. A giant man with shaggy unkempt hair, huge blue wings, horns, and scales up and down his arms and legs had just made off with you. Surely he would eat you or kill you for sport.

"Shhh, calm down, delicate thing."

He took you to his underground treasure room and put the armor on a stand then gave his undivided attention to you.

"You're my new favorite treasure!"

He nuzzled into your neck and licked your cheek, causing you to shudder.

"I-I'm not a treasure... j-just take me back home!"

He laughed. That wasn't happening.

"And go back to that abusive royal? Not a chance. You're gonna be my mate."

At first, you were borderline hostile. Then you were extremely reluctant. But as the days and weeks turned into months, you became more and more amicable to your self-appointed boyfriend. Rinvir did so much for you. He set up a little garden so you could enjoy outside time because you always looked at peace during your brief moments in the palace gardens.

He caught food for you. Though you did have to prepare it, he was no chef. But you had to prepare fresh meat on the prince's hunts all the time. But now you got to cook it how you preferred and Rinvir left you the best bits.

When you were sore, he gave the best massages.

When you slept, he held you tight to provide warmth.

When it came to sex Rinvir was a patient and gentle lover. So far, you had only pleased him with your mouth and hands, and he had returned the favor. His cock was thick and slimy but you actually enjoyed how it felt in your hands and the taste wasn’t bad either. He never pressured you into anything and was content with letting you explore what you liked at your own pace.

He really was your savior. Your dragon in shining scales.

It had been three months. Three agonizing months without his manservant. His beloved. His father had ordered him to give up the search because at this point, it was getting costly, and the prince had matters of state that needed attending. They could always make new armor and still investigate in smaller numbers if there were solid leads about the dragon.

That wasn't acceptable to Percival. His servant was probably dead or, at the very least, being tortured by a beast. It had been so long, and there were no guarantees that you were still alive. Percival had to have closure and revenge. Even if you were alive, he'd need revenge for having to endure without you, and you had surely missed him. If you were still hanging on you probably felt abandoned.

His father wouldn't budge. And when, in desperation, Percival had told him he valued and needed your friendship, his father had laughed him out of the throne room.

Unfortunately for you, his father came down with a sudden case of "died in the middle of the night." It was assumed he had succumbed to his advanced age, though that wasn’t the case.

King Percival redoubled the efforts into finding that thief of a dragon. It took an extra month after his ascension to the throne, but he had discovered rumors of a shimmering blue dragon-man. Percival spared no expense. Took no chances. He surrounded the entire area with well over 100 troops and had hired an additional two mercenary mages to work alongside the court wizard. They had used great magic to keep the approach silent.

It was the middle of the night when they made their move. Rinvir heard them approach and woke you up quickly.

"I think the prince found us! There's a lot of them. I can't believe they got so close without me noticing!"

He held you in his arms and planned to fly off with you through the temple's tower window.

You were too frightened to speak, but you had confidence in Rinvir's ability to get you to safety.

Rinvir spread his wings and leapt from the window. But a beam of light made by the combined magic of the King's sorcerers pulled the two of you to the ground.

Percival's heart leapt at the sight of you. He could scarcely believe you were still alive. This was amazing. He'd take you back, marry you at once, keep you safe, and heal you from whatever trauma this brute subjected you to.

"SLOWLY!!! He has my betrothed!!"

Yes, he was quickly paralyzed with powerful magic, and you were pried from his grasp.

Your knightly king would have you soon. Percival would make up for every bad word he ever uttered to you, for every humiliation, for hurting you the first time the two of you had made love because he had assumed you were more experienced.

He felt silly for having brought a small army when all he had needed were a few powerful magic users. They brought you to him, and he hoisted you into one of the wagons that had been brought to take back the dragon's treasures.

Percival removed his replacement armor and pulled you right into his lap. You had been shocked into silence with everything having moved so fast. One moment, you were snuggled up with Rinvir, your love, and suddenly, you found yourself in the lap of the man who made you hate life. Who's touch made you want to vomit.

You tried to shake him off and escape his hold.

"M-my Rinvir... I got to see Rinvir..."

"Who? That glorified lizard? Has he brainwashed you!? They say the best way to break such magic is with the touch of a loved one."

His hands were all over you as he peppered you with small kisses.

"Forget that monster, you're safe now, I promise."

"Y-you don't understand! I love him! Please let us go!"

He held you tightly with one arm as he began stripping you down with the other.

"I know just the thing to break this bewitchment."

Percival figured even if you weren't under the power of a spell that giving you his cock and making you feel good would still help you get over your overgrown lizard. The king kept you on his lap but turned you to face him. He swallowed up all of your protests with a deep hungry kiss, his tongue rolling around your mouth as it invaded you.

You started thrashing more as his finger grazed your hole. He held you tight as he leaned over and grabbed a vial from a box underneath his seat. He had this wagon prepared for your rescue if it was successful.

“Please don't. J-just let me go back...”

He put the contents on his fingers and massaged them diligently into your hole, slowly adding more digits until you could handle four of them with ease. Then he slicked up his large cock.

"Don't worry. This will be so much better than last time. I'll be the only man you ever think of after this."

His mouth attended to your neck as he slid into you slowly, going at a slow pace and making sure he hit a spot in you with each thrust that made you shudder and keen.

Percival had to admit that it was his fault your first time was awful. But he had consulted books since then. If he had been this attentive the first time, he could have been bedding you for a long time. You wept silently as your body betrayed you entirely, Percival assumed that the pleasure was just too much for you. You came intensely, spurting cum all over his hard abs and chest.

He went faster, still careful to go at a pace that wouldn't hurt you, as he chased his own climax. Being inside you finally and seeing your face as it was so ruined by pleasure sent him over the edge, and he filled your bowels with his semen.

"See!? Isn't that so much better? We can do it all the time now! I forgot to tell you! I'm the king!!!"

He held you close, burying your face in his pecs as he rubbed your back.

"If anyone gives us shit for being gay I'll cut their tongue out."

Percival was worried because you kept shaking and sobbing, but when you cried about wanting to go back to Rinvir, his attitude went icy. He peeled you off of his dick and cleaned you up roughly but then sat you across from him.

He had to remind himself that you had suffered great trauma, and it would likely take time to heal since it clearly wasn't a mere spell that had been laid upon you. He had to remain kind to you because it wasn't your fault, and a king shouldn't treat his betrothed too harshly.

Besides, he still had to make up for all the torture he put you through.

But he was not known for his patience. As the weeks passed, he grew increasingly irritable and could no longer handle your ceaseless whingeing about Rinvir.

Percival arranged for you to meet the piece of trash.

He took you down to the dungeon where you saw Rinvir. He was encased in a solid block of some type of enchanted glass or maybe even magical ice, completely unable to move. You fell to your knees and pressed your hands to the surface of the material as you cried his name. You hadn't seen him since you were ripped from his arms, you hadn't even known whether or not he survived!

"He's still alive, you know?"

Percival leaned down and spoke softly into your ear.

"I was going to have him displayed in the throne room, but that would have been too cruel to you, and I do love you so."

The depraved king applied a special lube to his fingers. One that was guaranteed to make you cum hard.

"He can see and hear everything. Since you cry for him so much in my presence, it is only fair that he hears how I make you moan and cry in pleasure."

You were crying so desperately that Percival's words hardly registered at all. Only when he pulled down your leggings did you realize his intent. You squirmed and writhed as he put the lube in you, feeling a strange heat inside you as he rubbed it in.

He gripped your hips and lined up with your hole, your crying face looking down shamefully to avoid seeing Rinvir as Percival took you.

His cock kissed that spot inside you and instantly you started moaning. It was like he was pumping a surge of ecstasy into you with every thrust. Though tears fell to the cold dungeon floor as he fucked into you, you couldn't help arching your back and moving against every thrust in an effort to feel it more deeply.

It was something you had never done before while Percival "made love" to you.

Percival greatly increased the pace. He wanted Rinvir to hear the smack every single time he drove into you, wanted you to hear the squelch from the precum and lube as he pressed into you, and most of all wanted him to hear all the pretty little gasps and moans HIS fiancé was making that HE had caused.

Percival's throbbing cock spilled rope after rope of semen into you, causing you to practically collapse to the floor in a riot of bliss as you came. You buried your head in your arms in humiliation and guilt. Your loving king angled your head up and forced you to look at Rinvir.

"It probably hurts him a great deal to see you like this, don't you think? From now on, anytime you mention his name, I am going to bring you down here and breed you right in front of him."

Percival sneered evilly at Rinvir. He knew from your defeated expression that he had won. The king kissed and comforted you as he picked you up to take you to bed. You had a long day, and tomorrow there was a wedding to start planning... now that you were over your ex...

He left the mess that had pooled out of you right where it had fallen. Rinvir could look at all the cum he had put into you for a while as a reminder of what Percival did to those who would dare take what was his.

[serickswrites]

Sore

Warnings: referenced physical violence, referenced restraints, hurt/aftermath, hurt/comfort

"Ouch," Villain winced as they eased themself down onto the couch. They had been moving very stiffly and carefully. Hero knew they had to be in tremendous pain.

"How bad is it, Villain?"

Villain gave Hero a crooked smile. "I've definitely had worse."

Hero frowned. Villain had fought off Other World Creature after breaking out of some power suppressing cuffs. Hero knew it had taken a great amount of strength to do both. And that Villain had been seriously hurt by Other World Creature's attacks.

"Don't lie to me. I know they hurt you. I know you jumped in so I didn't have to fight."

"Sweetheart, I couldn't let you have all the fun. Besides, my power lends itself to physical fights. Yours...well, it has its uses." Villain attempted to lean back and grimaced. "I will admit I am a little sore."

"How about I run you a nice warm bath and put those fancy epsom salts in it that you like."

Villain smiled at Hero again. "That sounds amazing."

Tags: @mousepaw @jumpywhumpywriter @knightinbatteredarmor @hufflepuffwritingstuff2 @anightmarishwhump

@steh-lar-uh-nuhs @celestialsoyeon @st0rmm @ay5ksal @pedro-pedro-pedro-pedro-pe

@pepeniascat @sowhumpful @whump-till-ya-jump

[loonybun]

SENSORY WHUMP!!!

- Loud, unpredictable noises to keep whumpee awake and alert

- Strong smells. It doesn’t matter if it’s something that would typically be considered a nice smell. Under the right circumstances or amount of time, anything from the smell of a warm meal to a fancy perfume can invoke nausea.

- A nice bit of pavlov! Associating certain things, such as sounds or sensations, with certain behaviors.

- Just the feeling of a weapon pressed against skin. Not breaking it, not even causing any physical pain, just keeping someone in suspense.

- Sensory-enhancing drugs

- Keeping a whumpee bundled up even in hot weather. Yeah it’s 80 degrees but if you take off that winter coat you’re not getting anything when it hits 20.

- Beating up a blindfolded whumpee. They have no idea where they’re going to be hit next or when.

- Forcing a whumpee to touch an exposed innard or gut. Come face to face with your own mortality AND weird uncomfortable feeling.

- Headphones constantly blasting loud noises. (for work i sometimes have to take orders with headphones and god it is so so painful whenever someone just yells directly into my ears. i am projecting.)