#whumpmasinjuly2021

[aceofwhump]

Day 13: Make a whump meme

I made a few 😊👍

#whumpmasinjuly2021 #whumpmas in july #whumpmasinjuly #wij2021 #whump #mod post #whump memes #meme #whump meme #memes #my memes

[whumpwillow]

wij day 13

Day 13: make a whump meme

ples

#wij21day13 #wij2021 #whumpmasinjuly2021 #whumpmasinjuly #whump #whump memes #villain whump is so good #villain whump #heroes and villains #villain whumpee

[cowboy-anon]

Whumpmas in July - Day 13

Prompt - Make a whump meme

Not my best but pretty accurate I think. XDD

@whumpmasinjuly​

#whumpmasinjuly #whumpmasinjuly2021 #wij21day13 #whump meme #so i made a meme #whump community #whump

[whumpsical]

"Look at me." for @whumpmasinjuly

contents: trafficking, implied noncon, defiant whumpee, noncon touching, face grabbing, referenced noncon drugging

Jian is only a sIut when it's his choice to be

June 2019

taglist!!! @yet-another-heathen @much-ado-about-whumping @minerscanary

🔥🔥🔥🔥

"Look at me."

"No."

The grip tightened around Jian's jaw, but still he kept his eyes trained on the closed white door. Always unlocked, whenever one of Lucia's clients was in the room. If only Jian’s wrists and ankles weren't bound to the bed. If only he wasn't drugged out of his mind half the time. If only there was actually anywhere to go outside of that door, and not just a maze of dim hallways and empty apartment units, only some of them unlocked, and only in the same fashion as his was now.

Jian's arms strained against the rough rope that this client had chosen. He'd have four rings of awful blisters in a few hours, but right now his limbs only whined at the restricted movement. And just ten feet away was that unlocked door, leading to nothing and everything all at once.

Jian was too exhausted to make it easier for himself. The client wrenched his jaw forward, but Jian's eyes were stuck on the door. He'd been here before. Nothing had changed.

"Look at me."

"No."

#whump #eric #whumpmasinjuly2021 #noncon whump #defiant whumpee #grabbing face #look at me #kidnapping whump #jian #ocs #sin squad #eric write #non con #short form whump #.. I'm discovering that i also enjoy writing tiny snippets for Jian #whump drabble #ya know?? #noncon drugging #noncon touching #anyway i love this quiet lil moment #that is sure to become less quiet in a second #but for now he is just moping #when this posts I might still be at work rip 😩😩

[professional-idiocy]

Whumpmas in July 2021 - day 13

Make a whump meme:

#wij2021 #whumpmasinjuly2021 #whumpmasinjuly #wij2021day13 #whump meme

[albino-whumpee]

Whumpmas in July day 3 “sleep”

Just a little something from the irony of being sleep deprived.

CW// implied captivity, aftermath of torture, nightmares, ankle chain and some caring for the Caretaker.

Caretaker’s eyes snapped open in the middle of the night. Memories, the worst of their fears and the horrible truth had mixed inside their head in their sleep. Damped in a cold sweat, Caretaker closed their eyes and hugged themselves tight.

“It was just a dream” they whispered “We’re safe. They’re safe”

As the words left their mouth they stretched their neck to the floor, hoping to find Whumpee curled up in their sea of blankets in the ground, but finding them empty and going cold.

Caretaker took a deep breath before shakily swinging their feet over the bed and walk up to the door.

The shadows and the moonlight had been their only company for too long, yet the unfamiliarity of what had been their home after such a long time, still made Caretaker slide their hand over the walls to guide themselves. Yet another night they ached for being at home finally, and yet still expecting to find the locked door, the pipe to where their ankles were chained to, but finding just their couch and a fluffy carpet instead.

“Can’t sleep either?” Whumpee asked from the spot in the ground they were sitting on. Wrapped up in blankets and faintly illuminated by the small desk lamp besides them. Their cheeks were still hollow and Caretaker could see scars beginning to fade over their arms, but that had never made Whumpee stop smiling so warmly when they extended their hand to Caretaker. “I have some space for you too” they said, opening up the blanket as an invitation.

Caretaker grinned as they walked to them, finding being wrapped in the weighted blanket comfortable, but simply having Whumpee to lean onto what made their heart ease finally.

#whumpmasinjuly2021 #whumpmasinjuly #wij21day3 #whumpee #caretaker #multiple whumpees #nightmares #aftermath of captivity #aftermath of torture #trauma recovery whump #whump #implied captivity

[minerscanary]

Whumpmas In July Day 2!

“How did you find the whump community?”

I’ve always been fond of dark and trecherous tropes in media. Sometime before quarentine started, I just randomly searched for captivity fics on tumblr and low and behold @ashintheairlikesnow ‘s Kauri fic popped up. I was utterly amazed by Ash’s writing style, not to mention that there was an entire community built around the same tropes that I loved. So I binge read ever installment, then Chris’s story, and i fell head over heels for Jake, and began to branch out a little bit to other creators. The BBU was a great way to find new creators because they were within the same bubble of tropes that gave that seratonin to my brain. I started reading @deluxewhump ‘s frathouse series. I am still a Cam and Alex simp, the collar and lingerie anon.

Some other great writers that I highly recommend looking into and reading are

@thoughtsonhurtandcomfort for wonderful nonhuman whumpees, absolutely love the g/t stuff they have

@albino-whumpee I am in love with the demon and angel series, and just Albus in general.

@orchidscript Henry has stolen my whole heart, and his time with Alexander and Marina is horrible but I cant help but reread.

@whump-mania every prompt they post blows me away and gives me so many whumperflies

@knivestothroats fletcher ALSO owns my whole heart, not gonna lie I read in the woods when I was realizing I’m nonbinary and I blame them.

@thecitythatdoesntsleep each vampire prompt they release is so so good, oh my god I love vampire whump.

@whumpmasinjuly

#whumpmasinjuly #whumpmasinjuly2021 #wij2021 #wij21day2

[befuddled-calico-whump]

Whumpmas in July 2021.

Day 1: (re)introduce yourself

(this is my first time trying an event in the community and I'm excited 😆)

So hello! I'm Calico and I've had this blog for around two years now. I started out posting prompts and doodles, but recently became a lot more active when one of @the-three-whumpeteers ' prompts inspired me to start writing Riot Kings. I've since become more involved with the community and it's been an amazing ride so far 😁

Little about me, I'm 23 and have been a whump conisseur as long as I can remember. I grew up a theatre kid, so I love dramatics, I currently work in emergency response (hazard mitigation), and I use she/her pronouns.

My ask box is always open, and I love sketching things for people and giving creative encouragement, so don't be afraid to message me if you need anything!

#whumpmasinjuly #whumpmasinjuly2021 #wij2021 #whump #writing #whump meta #creator

[softsharpdaydreams]

Support

This was written for Whumpmas in July, it's a little late, but I still got it done!

A night of festivities turns bitter for the King's advisor, Cassius.

Trigger warnings for alcohol use, drugging, non-consensual touch and implied non-con.

It was a warm July, the month of King Alphonse's birthday, and festivities were in full swing. Cassius had been a member of Alphonse's court for over a decade, and while they could handle most of the challenges that came with being one of the King's closest advisors, they found the pageantry of the social events always bordered on overwhelming.

This evening they couldn't tell if it was the alcohol or if it was the glitz and extravagance of the party-goers, but Cassius had found themselves beginning to feel...off. So they had  stolen away to their favourite place on nights like these.

The north side terrace looked across the palace gardens and then out across the city and the great lake behind it. Sometimes, on clear nights, the lights of Pearlwell, their home, could be seen on the horizon.

Usually they would lean against the balustrade, breathe in the scent of flowers and grass and watch the people scurrying along the city streets, tiny at such a distance. But this evening their body didn't feel like their own, and they didn't want to risk falling, so they contented themselves with leaning against the wall, searching the horizon for those familiar lights and drinking the glass of wine they had brought out with them.

They were grateful for the privacy of the terrace, the thought of showing any weakness in front of the court haunted them. There was a particular group of nobles who were so quick to prey on any perceived failings and missteps and turn them into career destroying rumours. Cassius had put a lot of energy and time in cultivating their position, and they refused to let their image be tainted because they had too much to drink.

Although they were certain this was only their second glass. They had been favouring the non-alcoholic drinks and their mind felt clear. It was just their body that felt slow and disconnected. They flexed their hand, unnerved by how stiff their fingers felt.

They looked down at their glass, it was half full, maybe they had drunk more than they thought. What else could it be? They didn't feel ill, there wasn't the grogginess or aches that came with illness. Maybe the clarity of the cool air after the stuffy ballroom was creating a false sense of sobriety.

They just needed a minute, either the alcohol would cloud their thoughts or they would start to feel in control of their limbs again, either way they would be okay. They wiggled their toes to encourage blood flow and tried to ignore the panic when they realised they couldn't move them.

There was a rational answer for this. They just needed to calm down. They had drunk too much. Yes, drinking didn't usually paralyse them...maybe it was stress? Or whatever Lord Everret had been smoking had found its way into their system?

They took another drink, their arms didn't feel like their own, and they knew it wasn't Everret's drugs or the alcohol that was doing this too them.

They needed to go to the doctor. But it was on the other side of the castle, and they weren't sure they could get that far. They could go back to their rooms. They were a lot closer, or maybe they could go and find their knight-

The sound of the terrace doors opening cut through their thoughts. Of all the nights for their privacy to be interrupted, it had to be this one. They were joined by Prince Silas, he was King Alphonse's best friend, handsome, charming and, in Cassius' opinion, a nuisance. He and Cassius had never really seen eye to eye, he was too willing to coast on his title and the glory of his mother's achievements. He probably thought Cassius was a stuck-up asshole. To make matters worse they never seemed to be able to agree on anything, Cassius had a suspicion Silas took whatever opinion opposed theirs just to get under their skin.

When he saw Cassius he stopped and smiled, a smile they had seen others swoon other, "Hello... I'm sorry for disturbing you."

"You're not disturbing me," they lied, stars, even their mouth felt like it wasn't their own. He nodded and made his way towards them, leaning against the balustrade opposite and blocking their view of the city.

He gave them a warm smile once he had settled, "Did the party get too much?" They didn't answer, he had to have known they wouldn't respond. The whole time Cassius had known him, they had always been extremely guarded with their emotions, and nothing had happened to change that. To his credit, he took their silence in his stride and did not push it further, "It's a beautiful night, we don't get nights like this in Oskia," He turned, looking out across the city, "Is it true you can see Pearlwell from here?"

"Yes, on some nights," they scanned the horizon one more time, "Not... tonight though." They had to stop talking, they were starting to slur their words.

He turned back to them, "That's a shame." The look he gave them told them he had noticed the way their words were starting to bleed together. It was a look that made them feel vulnerable.

They raised their glass to drain the last of their wine, his eyes followed the glass to their lips, and he smiled.

It was time for them to go.

They pushed away from the wall beginning to make their way back to the door, but as soon as their back left the wall they knew they had made a mistake, their legs refused to move, and they fell forward, the glass slipping from their hands and smashing by their feet. It felt like they were falling in slow motion.

Moving quickly, Silas caught them before they could hit the ground, their feet dragged through the broken glass as he pulled them up and held them uncomfortably close to his chest.

"Are you okay?" he asked, his voice laced with worry.

"I can't move my legs," they managed to force out through unresponsive lips. They pushed away from Silas, trying to keep an arm's length distance between the two of them, while still being very much dependent on him for support. He didn't move, he didn't speak. They looked up at him, he was just...watching them. "What are you doing?"

He chuckled, "I'm holding you, so you don't fall over, love."

"No-no, go get someone," their sentence ended a mumbled mess. They had to get away, they were too vulnerable. They never wanted anyone to see them like this. Especially not Silas.

They pushed away from him one more time, hoping that by some miracle they would be able to drag themselves back inside. But their arms gave out, and they collapsed into his chest. Silas sighed, sounding almost content, and he wrapped his arms around them, holding them almost tenderly. They tried to say something, but their voice came out as unintelligible sounds.

"I can't leave you in this state, my love," he began to run his fingers gently through their hair, "You've just had too much to drink, I'll take you back to your rooms and you'll feel fine tomorrow, if not a little sore."

They wanted to scream. They wanted to fight. Everything about this was wrong. Their body, Silas, the way he was holding them.

"Or maybe..." he spoke quietly, there was an edge to his voice now, "I'll take you back to the party, let everyone see you in this state. I wonder what Alphonse would think..." They had been trying to contain their fear, it was the enemy of rational thinking, but it was overwhelming them now. There was nothing to ground themselves on, all they could feel was Silas' fingers in their hair, his arm around their body. Panic was gripping them now. They struggled to pull air into their lungs as they felt their chest tighten, and they couldn't hold back the tears that stung their eyes.

He pulled back to look down on them, studying their face, the tears tracking down their face. "No, I won't do that to you, my love, I know how much you value your reputation," with one arm still looped around their body he wiped away the tears on their cheeks and the drool gathering at the corner of their mouth, they watched him helplessly, "all you need is some rest." He scooped them up, carrying them like a bride. They looked up at the stars and thought about Pearlwell as he carried them inside, their home, so very far away.

#whump #whump writing #non consensual touch #implied noncon #alcohol use #drugging tw #whumpmasinjuly #whumpmasinjuly2021 #support #cassius #silas #oskia #nonbinary whumpee #male whumper #elmer's writing

[aceofwhump]

Day 5: What Trope Do You Wish There Was More Content For?

Okay so I couldn't decide on just one so have a big ole list of tropes I want to see more of. 

For fanfics, I'd love to see more sickfics. I feel like the sick fic has taken a dive in popularity for the fandoms I read and that's a crying shame. I mean they might still be popular but I sure don't see them very often anymore. Sickfics were everywhere when I was younger and I don't see them as often anymore. We need more sickfics. Sickfics are the best.

For tv and movies I just want aftercare!!! Show me post hospital recovery and characters using ice packs after beatings and walking around gingerly days after the injury and wincing when they move wrong and getting tired quickly after being sick so they end up falling asleep on the couch and someone puts a blanket over them. Especially the falling asleep on the couch! I love that shit! But yes, soft aftercare moments!!!!

As for regular tropes I'd like to see more of in general (like community prompts and stuff) I'd love more fantasy themed stuff. Like magical exhaustion/pain/sicknesses, fighting against a curse laid on them and trying to find the cure. What about fantasy creatures like vampires and werewolves and dragons and fairies and sirens and Oh! What about pirate whump!? Pirates and sailing and fighting against storms and other pirates and the lack of medical care aboard ships and the shipmate camaraderie. 

I also want to see more platonic stuff within fanfiction. I’m aroace so I naturally lean more towards family and friendships for my whumpee/caretaker dynamics. I’d love to see that more in fanfics. Found families and real siblings and best friends and reluctant friends/caretakers and “we started off hating each other but now we’re stuck together and we slowly start to become friends.” Stuff like that. 

And generally I'd enjoy seeing more whump relating to impalement, natural disaster stuff like avalanches or rockslides. I'd also love to see more villain whumping cause I love it.

I have a lot of things I'd love to see lol.

#mod post #whump #whumpmasinjuly2021 #whumpmasinjuly #whumpmas in july #wij2021 #tropes #this is a queue

[whumpwillow]

wij day 5

Day 5: What trope do you wish there was more content for?

hnnnmg can I say whumper-turned-whumpee? 🥺👉🏻👈🏻

i just think it’s neat. probs because I’m obsessed with villain whump, whumper-turned-whumpee is of a similar variant except it can have the added complication of seeing all the awful things the whumper has done first-hand through the writing and then having to reconcile that with how they are now being hurt just the same or worse (hopefully worse) and it’s just an interesting dynamic. especially if it happens with a character you didn’t expect, part way into a story already 

#wij2021 #whumpmasinjuly #whumpmasinjuly2021 #whumper turned whumpee #oh i do so love a good whumping of the whumper

[cowboy-anon]

Whumpmas in July - Day 3

Prompt - Sleep

Introducing Auggie, AKA Apple before he was Apple.

CW: Blood, pet whump, self-harm, sleep deprivation, torture (both mentioned and implied)

Edit: Just realized this is kind of an Apple piece, so I’m tagging!

Tagging: @happy-whumper, @milk-carton-whump​, @sideblogformindtrash​, @whumperfulart​, @unicornscotty​, @starnight-whump​ (Let me know if you want to be added or removed!)

Sleepless

When his punishment is done, the salesman drags Auggie by the arm across the blood-slick back room floor and throws him back into his storage room cage. Auggie can’t manage any more than a whimper when his bare, split back hits the wire, so cold it stings, but… but it’s keeping him awake. 

It’s been three days, just three since he came to this store. Two since he last ate, one since he last had something to drink. Three since he last slept. 

Auggie, he’s barely awake as it is—barely alive it feels like. Paired with the exhaustion of these last two hours of torture and the low blood sugar and blood loss, he very well could fall unconscious at any moment.

The salesman must see it on his face, because after a click—the lock, Auggie reminds himself, the cage lock keeping him here—he repeats the same line Auggie’s come to dread but expect: “For every minute I catch you sleeping, I’ll add a unit to your punishment tomorrow. Could be a lash, could be a cut, could a burn. Whatever I choose.”

Today… today he had five long cuts carved into his back in addition to the belt across his back, so many times he lost count. “Starting slow,” the salesman had said. 

“I’ll be back in… eight hours.” The salesman wipes Auggie’s tacky blood on the sides of his pants. “Sixty minutes in an hour. Four hundred and eighty minutes. Four hundred and eighty potential cuts, lashes, burns, and far worse than anything else a dog like you could imagine.”

The fog that’s settled behind his eyes has Auggie nodding despite the severity of his situation. The words, they’re barely processing. It’s not tiredness, not anymore. It’s complete and total exhaustion. 

“I’ve got my camera set to record while I sleep,” the salesman continues, “to make sure you don’t. Night night, dog.”

Through the wire grating, those black slacks and leather shoes walk away, and the door out of the storage room swings open, then closed. The eight hours start. 

The fluorescent lights stay on when the salesman leaves. Auggie leans back harder onto the grating and sighs, grateful for at least that much. With the lights on, his natural clock might be fooled for just a little longer. 

That tiny relief doesn’t last long. Not ten minutes in, his eyelids go heavy with sleep, and his mind goes fuzzy with the effort it takes to just stay awake.

He tries everything. He counts the cages in the room,  the ones beside him and above him and across from him. Sixteen. His is the only one that’s occupied.

He tries talking to himself next, and humming, and singing, and telling himself stories. By then, he figures about two hours have passed, but really, he has nothing to base that estimate on. There’s no windows in the storage room, not anywhere, and no clocks either. For all he knows, the salesman could keep him locked up for eight hours or ten or twenty, and he’d be none the wiser.

The thought is terrifying. He goes back to mindlessly singing songs.

When he reaches what he thinks is the fourth hour, Auggie’s so out of it that he resorts to reaching around his back and digging his overgrown fingernails into the fresh wounds there. He feels sick at the smell of blood and the sticky film it leaves on his fingers, but he keeps at it, choking back his snivels and sobs because anything is better than falling asleep and having new ones opened.

The more tired he feels, the less he feels, the harder he digs—until he’s sure he’s doing more damage than the salesman did with his knife. It’s not enough.

Somewhere along the line, Auggie falls asleep. 

He swears he only binked, but when he opens his eyes, the salesman is in front of him grinning maniacally.

The night, it wasn’t over. The salesman shouldn’t be here, not for another few hours.

A few… hours…

Auggie’s stomach drops, and suddenly his insides are empty, replaced by a dark, all-consuming dread. Auggie, he slept—for who knows how long. 

The salesman lowers himself to Auggie’s level and peers into the cage, the smile never leaving his lips.

“I suppose we should get started early today.”

#some salesman content >:)))) #sleepy boi auggie (aka apple) #auggie (aka apple) #apple the whumpee #the salesman whumper #blood tw #sleep deprivation tw #self harm tw #pet whump #whump #whump writing #whump oc #whump community #whumpmasinjuly #wij21day3 #whumpmasinjuly2021 #torture tw #implied torture

[whumpsical]

"Stop." for @whumpmasinjuly

contents: fade-to-black noncon, intense self-hatred and self-blame, theoretically consensual səx work, manhandling, whorephobia??? much of it internalized????

Jian gets a bad client. Sorry Jian 😔 They can't all be winners

March 2019

taglist!!! @yet-another-heathen @much-ado-about-whumping @minerscanary

💋💋💋💋

King had set this one up for him. It should've been fine.

Big house. Spiffy neighborhood. The type to not have any goddamn bus stops nearby. He'd had to take a rideshare.

As soon as he stepped into his client's white two-story, Jian got the distinct sense that something was off about the guy. Nothing jumped out that he could pinpoint as troubling though, nothing real, nothing beyond an icky feeling in Jian's stomach that was probably just anxiety about spending another awkward thirty minutes in another awkward rideshare when he was done here, so he shoved it down and forced a sideways smile.

"Nice place," Jian said. A half-truth. The bones of the house were lovely, but the rooms were decorated in signature bachelor fashion: they weren't. Plain white walls acted as a backdrop to sparse, mismatched furniture placed without thought to much more than functionality, and barely that.

"Mhm."

His client locked the door behind him. Not unusual in the slightest. But something about the way he lingered over the deadbolt sent a shiver up Jian's spine. He pushed past it. King had set this one up for him. It was fine, he was just jumpy from the last asshole who decided Jian's limits didn't apply to them. But King had set this one up for him; the guy would've already seen and agreed to Jian's short list of stipulations. So why was Jian so fucking nervous?

"Jian, right?"

Shit. Jian had forgotten the guy's name. Fuck. Shit. Okay, it didn't matter, not unless his client wanted Jian to say it, and he'd cross that awkward bridge when he got there. Oh yeah, baby, I want you so bad. Remind me of your name real quick?

"Yeah," he said, smiling sweetly as his nameless client circled back around him.

"Take that off, Jian," his client said, nearly interrupting him, gesturing vaguely to Jian's entire being.

Pushy. Jian's softly half-lidded eyes and easy smile never faltered, he was sure of that, but it took considerable effort to keep it up now. He was really not in the fucking mood for a pushy one. But he kept making eyes at his client as he slowly lifted his shirt and dropped it to the floor on the threshold. The guy didn’t seem the type to bother with hangers, much less to mind where Jian’s clothes ended up today.

The muffled sound of Jian's shirt hitting hardwood hadn’t even reached him before Jian felt a hard whack against his windpipe, his client’s hand whipping up suddenly and catching him by the neck. As the back of Jian’s head hit a wall with a deep thunk, his client squeezed a shocked moan out of him, rising in pitch like a sad question.

“Hey, st-- STOP--?!”

“Shh, shh, shh,” Jian’s client hushed his whiny protests with a sick, intimate grin. He shifted his grip from Jian’s neck to a firm hold on his jaw, forcing him to meet his eyes. “I know. This isn’t your thing. And what are you going to do about it?”

The complete, steady confidence in his client’s gaze sent a cascade of crushed ice into Jian’s stomach. What was he going to do about it?

No fucking bus stops. A thirty minute drive, once he could even order a car. What was he supposed to do, run out into the growing evening darkness and start knocking on neighboring doors, half-dressed?

He hadn’t even brought a weapon; King had set this one up for him. It should’ve been fine.

His client scoffed a breathy laugh in Jian’s face as he watched him come to terms with the hopelessness of his situation, his eyes glinting with vested interest at Jian’s increasingly trembling breaths as he manhandled him over to a small couch and shoved him down.

“Nothing, right? You’re going to shut up and do what I’m paying you for.”

Jian whined as the back of his neck smacked against the arm of the couch, but he had no rebuttal beyond that vague wordless plea. His client was right; there was nothing to do but let it happen and just earn this fucking money the only way he knew how.

“What made you think you’d get to pick and choose how we got there?”

Jian deserved this. He deserved this. Stupid fucking whore. He was probably enjoying it, wasn't he? Deep down? There had to be a reason this kept happening. Something innate about his body or the way he spoke or his stupid fucking personality that drew creepy violent motherfuckers to him like flies to a pile of shit. His dumb whore legs twitched where they'd been wrenched up against the back cushions of the couch as the edges of his vision fell into darkness, his client's hand pressing flat on his collarbones and the unyielding arm of the couch against the back of his neck crushing him into an impossible position. All he could see anymore was his client's grinning face, the man's skin flushed with wicked excitement. There was no room between them to breathe. Struggling hard against the pressure in his chest, Jian only ended up inhaling the sweaty stink of the fucking creep.

Jian groaned low and halfheartedly tried to wriggle free, to shove his client off of him, to knock both of them off of the smelly couch, the effort of it like twisting a knife into his own chest. But his client pressed harder on Jian's sternum, choking off his mild protests as Jian's neck crunched to nearly ninety degrees. And all Jian's sad, futile struggle earned was a hard slap in the face that knocked his head sideways, a movement he wouldn't have thought possible with his neck so cramped up. He swore he heard a vertebra pop. Now he couldn't even turn back on his own, his head jammed firmly into place between the hardest edges of the couch, and his client took the opening to bite Jian's exposed neck with more force than could've been taken for plain lust.

A greedy hand pillaged the fabric of Jian’s jeans, rifling through the folds until it found the button and zipper, then tore harshly outwards. The round metal button popped from its threads. Jian listened to it skitter across the floor, his eyes glazing over.

The rideshare home was going to be a lot more awkward than he'd anticipated.

#whump #eric #whumpmasinjuly2021 #noncon whump #nsfwhump #non con #manhandling #choking whump #emotional whump #ocs #Jian #sin squad #eric write #all hurt no comfort #hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm #oh ahaha this is the one that was inspired by the way i was sitting on the couch one day #i wanna tag rant as i usually do but i am tired and idk what to say about this other than i rly enjoy it lol #hm spotify recommended me the song ''rocky's late night'' by albert hammond jr and I've been really into it #i know literally nothing about the singer or anything but it's bouncy and sad and that's a fun thing to be #Also my friends got me into ''you're not special‚ babe'' by orla gartland #it was in my head ALL DAY at work lol

[professional-idiocy]

Whumpmas in July 2021 - Day 3 - "Sleep"

A bit of writing for this day. Here's a whumpee I don't often talk about but here is Tristan. Please be cruel to him ^^ @whoopsalittlewhumpy, I know you like Tristan so :3

CW: forced drugging, creepy whumper, nonsexual non-con touch, and purposeful triggering

Tristan scowled backing into the wall as Belladonna got closer. He didn’t want her anywhere near him. “Hey, shh it’s alright. It’s just some water” she said with softness in her tone and a soft smile on her face. It screamed fake and Tristan knew it was.

Belladonna reached out to him as he whipped his head to the side trembling. He didn’t like it. He shuddered as he felt pressure in his hair. He didn’t like it. He felt like he couldn't breathe as his chest tightened and no matter how much he tried, he never got enough. He yelped as the grip on his hair tightened and he couldn’t fight back as water filled his mouth. He tried to spit it out but couldn’t as that bitch’s hand was stopping him.

“Just drink it. Everything will be easier afterwards” Tristan trembled before swallowing, he just wanted her to stop touching his hair. He felt the tears sliding down his cheeks as everything started to become blurry and soft. He couldn’t move or think. Hopefully, he wouldn’t remember whatever happened next.

He felt a hand run through his hair, but he couldn’t fight back. He couldn’t move and his eyes refused to stay open. He needed- needed to get away. Only to collapse into Belladonna’s embrace.

He didn’t like it. He would have preferred being a punching back for everyone else. Not the bitch’s pet. He couldn’t. He hated her.

“Sleep” someone stated softly.

Maybe it wouldn’t hurt.

Maybe it was for the better.

Maybe-

He felt everything disappear as the shadows growing at the edge of his vision swallowed him whole as the darkness chuckled whispering sweet lies to him.

He hated the darkness.

#whumpmasinjuly #whumpmasinjuly2021 #wij2021 #original whump #forced drugging tw #tw forced drugging #creepy whumper #defiant whumpee

[albino-whumpee]

WIJ day 6: Look at me

@whumpmasinjuly I don’t really have words for this. It just…happened. Didn’t have time to finish it until now so…

Cw// eye whump, pet whump, conditioning, burning, hurt comfort, multiple whumpees, sadistic whumper, emotional abuse and permanent injury.

He had been there for enough time to know only by the way he ate dinner that his Master had had a bad day. Like a storm, the man’s calm was an omen to disaster.

Taking a deep breathe, Isaac knocked on his Master’s office door, carrying a tray of tea, a brand new package of cigarettes and snacks.

“Come in” the man exhaled a curtain of smoke before putting it off in a glass ashtray. Silent like a mouse, Isaac settled the silver tray in the coffee table and didn’t wait for his Master’s orders to take one cigarette from the box and then, when the man leaned over him, gently put it in his lips.

The man said nothing as he smoked, so Isaac stayed quiet and attentive, clasping his hands behind him and following the man’s movements with his eyes. He was hoping he would go unharmed this time, but such hope vanished when the man ordered him to sit.

“On the couch, pet” the man said, leaking irritation when Isaac knelt on the ground.

“I’m sorry, sir” he said, sitting at the leather couch’s edge. The boxie sat there staring back at his master in his custom made suit and buttoned up shirt with a loose tie. Mr. Hearst was a man toeing his forties, yet there were only a few spots of silver scattered in the thick dark brown.

His eyes glowed an amber yellow under the dim lights of his desk lamps. Slowly, they turned darker and darker until he stood before Isaac. The pet looked down, knowing himself to be too weak to keep eye contact from that distance.

“Look at me” the man ordered and the pet obeyed. For a moment, he could hold his gaze, he could try to quiet down his racing heart when Mr.Hearst put his free hand against the couch’s rest and leaned closer to Isaac. The pet found himself lost in his owner’s eyes. Swallowed by their emptiness as he lifted his other hand, the one holding the cigarette and then put it close to his right eye.

The pet yelped in fear, paddling away from his owner and finding the couch’s rest making his escape a magnificent distance of two inches. When the Pet looked away, trying to escape the cigarette, the man passed his fingers below his collar, right between where skin and leather met, and pulled.

“Look at me, Isaac” the man whispered, tugging harder on the young man’s collar and ripping out a whimper out of him. He didn’t race his hands up, he only held his breathe when his Master hovered the end of the cigarette over his eye.

For a long painful moment, Isaac stared at the sparks of the paper burning. Blurry with the closed distance and then, gone black in one eye as a swizzle sound drowned his ears and a screech burnt its way out of his throat.

For a moment he didn’t feel anything, but the next, he was stepping in hell.

He went down to the floor screaming. He cried as he held the left side of his face with both hands. Blood and liquid oozed from his eye and leaked into the floor as someone knocked on the door.

“Sir! Sir, may I come in?” A feminine voice asked, screaming over the young man’s hollering.

“Prepare my car, Shirley. And a cold compress” the man said calmly, putting off the cigarette in the crystal ashtray. “Understood?” The man asked when he heard no response. He could’ve sworn he heard a gasp and then a long breath being dragged out.

“Understood, Master” the girl said before stomping away.

The man’s eyes slid back to the shivering, weeping box boy curled in a ball on the floor.

“I’m sorry, Im sorry…” the young man whispered. Hearst stayed quiet and slowly moved to get his jacket. Then as he kept mumbling apologies, the man knelt over the pet.

He grabbed his chin and forced him to look up at him. Isaac could barely keep his healthy eye open, but it opened wide when he felt a soft peck over the eyelid trying to shield the burnt eye. Short of breath, he stared at his master rendered mute when he wiped his tears and blood off.

“I was frustrated, Isaac. There are so many bad people in this world and I had the misfortune of meeting one today. It wasn’t you, oh no. I’m sorry it had to be you who had to take what I would’ve done to them.” he said, hearing Shirley come to knock on the door again. He sighed and helped him stand up, using his napkin to gently place it over his face. “You endured it well. Hang on to me, alright? Let’s get you patched up. Is the least I can do to thank you”

As Isaac was dragged outside and Shirley, the other slave in the house, gasped so loudly it could’ve been a scream, the boxie’s head could only sigh in relief that it hadn’t been one of the kids who had crossed their father’s path in such a furious state. As he was helped up the luxurious car and Shirley begged their Master to go with them so she could his hand and press a cold compress to the injury, and even after he came back home with one less eye and his eyelid stitch shut underneath wraps, he couldn’t help the relief that washed over his body.

When at night, stored in their cage outside, his head began hurting and pulsing, he heard the chains to their ankle manacles clink when Shirley moved closer to him, pulling on his face so he could see her face.

Shirley stroke his cheek with glassy eyes before leaning to kiss his forehead and then pressed their heads together as she softly rubbed circles on his head.

As he leaned into her touch, he went to sleep thinking to himself: “thank god, thank god it was just me”.

#whump #writing #Isaac Hearst #William Hearst #pet whump #broken whumpee #sadistic whumper #creepy whumper #hurt comfort #eye gore #eye whump #tw conditioning #multiple whumpees #permanent injury tw #whumpmasinjuly2021 #whumpmas in july #wijprompt #wijday6

[minerscanary]

Just Another Night

Whumpmas in july day 3, with the prompt ‘sleep’.

CW: This ones pretty bare, more of a dull pain and comfort rather than hurt. Medication mention, some barely self destructive behavior, does this even count as whump? Nathan Prescott.

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Nights rarely went without being woken up.

Whether that be in a cold sweat, his clothes drenched and teeth chattering as he climbed out of bed to the shower, or with a burning pain tearing and pulling at his leg. The meds all hit each other terribly, but after so much trial and error you begin to be okay with the side effects. It was either this, or staying in bed all day doing nothing, unable to do anything. He could sacrifice a little bit of sleep anyways, it wasn’t worth it.

But now… There was him in the picture.

Nathan worried about waking him up every time he would wiggle out from under the sheets. Worry about waking up as he would slip into the shower, or pull on his shoes to leave the apartment. If he did decide on the former, like tonight, he would wonder if Warren would notice and mention it in the morning over coffee, just before he had to run off for the day. He ran through a million and one different scenarios on what he would say, how to answer perfectly.

Someone like him, it would be a miracle from god if he didn't have nightmares. Nightmares trapped behind a glass wall, being locked out from doing anything, only able to watch the blood spill and robes burn, stuck just behind his eyes through a thick haze. He turned the knob all the way to the left first, letting burning steam and water splash against his skin, opening his pours and all the dirt stuck in them from when he inevitably forgot to wash his face. It always seemed to be the smallest things, the mundane and ritualistic things he couldn’t quite get. It was better when Warren was there, someone to keep him on the schedule, on some sort of routine, but some nights just fell through the cracks.

He flexed his toes against the white linoleum floor, just to get the feeling back in his leg. His hands were just barely shaking, rubbing at his face, through dirty blonde locks that had days of product in it. Some things just fell through the cracks.

Nathan could almost melt in the heat of the steam, let it sink into his skin and follow it down the drain. Just melt away from the world, the fluorescent and disinfectants. It was a nice thought, to just step away from the world for a second, to let it all melt away from you.

But again… There was him. Warren. The dipshit that he let in his dorm room once and couldn’t get enough of. Somehow they landed out here, away from the hills of Arcadia Bay, in a studio apartment Nathan's father did not trust him with, alone at least. Warren was his little secret, someone that his old world wouldn’t be able to touch, not over Nathan's dead body.

He let out a little breathy laugh in the steam, just at the thought, then reached out to turn the dial the opposite direction, icy cold. It was just a quick burst, enough to give his skin life from all the heat had taken. He wasn’t under it long before turning it all the way off, hearing the smallest knock at the door.

“Nathan?” He heard from the other side, eyes down as he watched water drip from his body.

“Yeah?”

Drip drip drip, down the drain, anywhere else.

Conversations with the man were hardly anything to be scared of, he wasn't. But conversations at all, through a door, in the middle of the night, were generally nerve inducing.

There was a small pause, then trying to open the door, “Sorry, are you almost done? Nathan’s breath caught in his throat, just standing in the shower with nothing else. He quickly grabbed his towel, patting himself down before throwing on a clean set of clothes. The dirty ones were thrown on the floor, he could take care of them later. Warren didn’t say anything else, the studio was silent, listening to Nate’s feet against the wet linoleum, then, the door clicked. His hair was wet and messy, face flushed from the quick change in temperature. Water soaked the neck of his clean t-shirt, on the back of his neck where his hair dripped.

Warren gave this tilted kind of smile, arms out straight, and Nathan fell right in them. The younger brunette had filled out over the years, lanky limbs finally looking right when he grew to his full height. He was definitely bigger than Nathan, enough to rest his chin on the top of his head as he held him against his chest. “How are you feeling?” It felt like a dumb question, but Warren asked it anyways.

“Just fine, Graham.” Nathan locked his hands around Warren’s waist, the others over his shoulders, holding him as they stood outside the bathroom door. “I’m just fine.” He felt the hesitancy in the others movements, and spoke again. “I’m not fucking sensitive.”

Well. It came out wrong, but the meaning got by nonetheless.

He felt the other’s hand slip into his hair, brush at oily and wet locks, push them back and away from his forehead. That water dripped down his neck, onto Warren’s hand. “Do you need some advil or something? I got those strawberry melatonin things, if they’d help.”

Nathan let out a breath against Warren’s shirt, then in again, taking in the cedar scent of his cologne, mixed with the seaside smell of their laundry detergent.

Their laundry detergent, it sounded so fucking domestic.

“You should try and go back to bed,” Warren spoke again, resting his chin on top of Nathan’s wet hair. “Just a few more hours before we gotta be up.”

We this, and ours that, Nathan’s teeth clenched together, throat warm and tight as he gripped tighter around the tall brunette's waist. Someone looking out for him, who seemed like they cared about him, who wanted to take care of him, it all feld similar. Like a sweater you meant to throw out, scratching at your skin, yet you wear it regardless, lest it go to waste.

“Nathan?”

Warren’s voice was grating, scratching at Nathan’s ears like wool. He gulped, pulling away in a harsh movement, letting his messy hair fall back over his eyes. He couldn’t even say a word, too frightened of the cracks in his voice, almost stomping to his bed, grabbing one of the blankets before stopping back in front of Warren. He couldn’t look up at him, just squared his jaw with mumbled words, “I’m sleeping on the couch. Go back to bed.” He didn’t wait to see if Warren would, chances were he would probably just start the coffee machine and leave. Nathan just took the blanket to the living kitchen dining area, pulling it over him as he fell onto the couch. 

It was a cheap thing he managed to buy with his own money, dragged up the steps of his building, and into his apartment. It didn’t cost much, but nuzzling his face into the corner of it, back to the TV, the smell of mothballs in his throat, the plush blanket draped over him. 

Just alone. 

Completely alone. 

Quiet. 

It was nice. 

Empty, and nice. 

No one to pull him one way or the other, even if he could hear footsteps through the rooms. Warren didn’t matter right now. Nothing mattered right now. Just the few hours he could strangle until he had to be a functioning human being.

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@whumpmasinjuly

#whumpmasinjuly2021 #wij2021 #wij21day3 #sleep #medication mention #hurt/comfort #a dull pain #nathan prescott #life is strange #warren graham #grahamscott #i am a simp for one problematic man