whumptopia reblogged
A new blorbo when they see my whump loving ass advancing on them rubbing my evil little goblin hands together:
The whumpee, a retail worker, is closing the store alone. Late at night, the doors are locked, most of the lights are off, and the parking lot is empty. The whumpee knows that the security cameras don’t have audio, so they don’t have to worry about their boss listening in. Free to make as much noise as they please, the whumpee sings along to the radio to pass the time. After closing the register, they head to the back of the store to hide the cash drawer. Continuing to belt out song lyrics, they turn a corner and—they bump into somebody.
Startled, the whumpee drops the cash drawer and stumbles back. Coins scatter across the tiles, and they gape open-mouthed at the intruder.
“Don’t stop on my account.” The stranger flashes a toothy grin and takes a step closer. “You have such a lovely voice.”
“I, I don’t—” the whumpee stammers, their brain short circuiting as they struggle to process the situation.
“Keep singing,” they encourage, one hand resting on the waistband of their jeans where a weapon is most certainly concealed. “C’mon, don’t be shy now.”
sunburn your whumpee ☀️ and have the caretaker rub aloe vera on their back
dangle your whumpee over a tank of hungry sharks 🦈
My Cup Runneth Over
d&d oc whump commissioned by [anon]
content warnings: blood drinking, terminal illness, very brief emeto mention
—
Rolith never imagined he would step foot inside a vampire’s home for any reason other than to slaughter the fiend, yet here he is, knocking on the front door of Lord Serador’s estate with no malicious intentions to be found. He’s been tasked to perform a wellness check on the behalf of Queen Juliet, the matriarch of Willowfen, or the independent human settlement they both call home. As the town’s military leader, he receives his orders directly from her and spends a sizable portion of his time advising the crown. They’ve built up a healthy working relationship over the years, and she trusts him indubitably. She told him she was worried about Serador because he returned the Empyreal Wand (the Queen’s family heirloom, which she gave him in return for his help in solving their werewolf problem). Considering how badly the vampire initially wanted the wand, her highness saw his generosity as cause for concern.
Brows furrowing, Rolith glances down at the wand. Although Serador seems to be somewhat less of a prick than most vampiric nobility, Rolith still can’t imagine him helping them for free. There must be another reason why he returned it.
lock your whumpee in a freezer 🧊
In the Underdark
d&d oc ladywhump commissioned by @silentlygo
content warnings: female whump, minor character death, graphic violence, blood, and brief mentions of nausea
—
Baenviir is not unfamiliar with the Underdark. She is half-drow, after all. Her dark blue skin is a testament to her heritage. Below the surface of the sunlit world, she knows what dangers to look out for. She treads lightly, her golden eyes peeled at all times. This is not her first time in the Underdark, and she prays it will not be her last.
“What did you say to me?” the whumper asks in a dangerously calm tone.
“Fuck off,” the whumpee hisses, teeth bared.
“No, not that.” The whumper grabs their captive’s chin and tilts their head back. “Just a moment earlier. I believe you said something along the lines of ‘you’ll never fucking own me, you piece of shit.”
The whumpee doesn’t bother with a reply, simply continuing to glare at their captor.
“Now, I can tolerate your rather excessive use of profanity,” the whumper begins, squeezing their captive’s jaw with enough force to bruise, “but I won’t condone lies.”
The whumpee snorts. “It’s not a lie. You don’t own me.”
The whumper’s eyes narrow. They’re silent for a long moment, and then they shove their thumb into the whumpee’s mouth, prying their teeth apart.
“Open up,” they demand sharply, and although the whumpee resists, biting at their fingers, the whumper manages to create enough of an opening to shove something past their lips.
The chemical taste explodes across the whumpee’s tongue, and they grunt in disgust. It takes them a second to process, but their eyes widen when they realize what’s happened.
There’s a bar of soap in their mouth.
The whumpee curses, but their words are muffled by the rectangular object filling their mouth. Nose crinkling, they grimace, trying to push the bar out with their tongue. The whumper clucks in disapproval, shoving the soap in deeper, all the way until it can’t go back any further.
Satisfied, the whumper steps back to admire their work. “Good. Keep that in there. Starting now, you’re going to tell me the truth. If you lie, I’ll have to wash out your filthy mouth.”
The whumpee squirms, gagging on the overwhelmingly repugnant taste. Their teeth dig into the waxy soap, and their gums sting. Tears spring to their eyes from both the discomfort and humiliation.
With a content smile, the whumper runs a gentle hand through their hair. “You see?” They caress the whumpee’s cheek, wiping away stray tears. “I do own you.”
whumptopia reblogged
Whumpee is forced into a sack and tossed into a river to drown
“No, no—let go of me!” the whumpee screams, thrashing desperately. Their wrists are cinched together with zip ties, the plastic digging into the soft skin of their forearms, but their legs are free, so they kick out with all their might.
“Cut it out,” the whumper grunts, holding the burlap sack open with one hand—their other hand is curled around the whumpee’s upper arm, trying to maneuver them into the bag. The whumpee digs their heels into the dirt, resisting like their life depends on it—and it does. Just a few paces away, the river rushes fast, deep and deadly. The whumper has finally decided to get rid of them once and for all.
“I said let go!” the whumpee shouts as loud as they can, hoping someone will hear their frantic cries and save them from their doom.
With a growl of frustration, the whumper loops one arm around their waist and picks them right up off the ground.
“Put me down!” the whumpee yells, flailing wildly, but it’s too late. In a show of strength, the whumper dips them backward, tipping them over so they fall headfirst into the bag. The top of their skull bangs against the rocky embankment, and they’re momentarily stunned. Before they can gather their bearings, the whumper ties the other end of the sack shut. The world goes black.
Panic overwhelms the whumpee’s senses. They struggle as hard as they can, but they can’t get the bag open. The whumper hoists them over their shoulder and starts to walk.
“Please, no, no, you don’t have to do this!” the whumpee shrieks. “Please!”
The roar of the river grows louder. The whumpee is choking on their own breaths, sobbing. “Please, I’ll do anything, please don’t kill—!”
The whumpee’s sentence is cut off with a splash as they’re tossed into the river. The sack is almost instantly flooded, and they tumble in current, drowning in the cold, dark water.
Seasick
oc sickfic commissioned by @depression-vents
content warning: emeto
—
Elle has a history of trouble with boats. Ever since she was a little girl living in Queensland, she’s gotten terribly seasick. She used to think she’d get used to it eventually, living on the coast and all, but she’s never gotten her sea legs. As a result, she tries to avoid sailing at all costs, which can sometimes be difficult considering where she lives. Tasmania is an island, and her apartment in Hobart isn’t far from the ocean. She can find a boat almost everywhere she goes in the city. Avoiding ships isn’t exactly an easy feat when you’re surrounded by the sea.
Despite knowing how her body reacts to being on the water, Elle purchased two tickets for a river tour as a present for her girlfriend. When she told Jade about her plan, her girlfriend was reasonably concerned, but Elle reassured her that everything would be fine.
“River boats are slow,” she said, “and I’ll take Dramamine.”
whumptopia reblogged
“Scream for me again…” the whumper purrs, gripping the sobbing whumpee’s bloodstained chin. “Your voice is so pretty when it breaks.”
Superhero Interrogated
my hero academia oc whump commissioned by @everythingbaku
content warnings: torture, drugging, captivity, blood, very brief emeto mention
—
Waking is slow. Ren—bouncy, energetic, excitable Ren—is normally the first one up, rising with the sun while his husband grumbles about needing more sleep. Now, though, he feels sluggish and discombobulated, his eyelids impossibly heavy. Either he’s hungover from partying hard at a rager (unlikely, getting blackout drunk isn’t really his scene), or… something’s wrong with him.
Groaning, he cracks his eyes open. His vision is blurry, and the world is cast in black and white. Wincing, he turns his cheek away from the too-bright light, squinting at his surroundings. His tongue is dry, and he feels… off. It takes a moment for him to process the sensation, but when he does, his heart spikes.
He’s been drugged.
The Angel Within
d&d oc ladywhump commissioned by @pixels-and-paperweights
content warnings: female whump, mentions of animal death (horses), graphic murder, blood, memory loss
—
Morning breaks over the peaks of the mountains, and even after traveling all through the night, Fayde Rithindren and her companions still haven’t reached their destination. The mountain pass they’ve been tasked to clear is far from most towns, but the feral orcs occupying the passage are still a threat to the merchants, travelers, and hunters in the area. Fayde and several others have been tasked by the Emerald Enclave to deal with the orcs, a job that involves traveling on horseback for days, venturing past the safety of civilization into the mountainous wilderness.
Fayde enjoys missions like these, for the most part. She gets the chance to absorb the world around her, and the straightforwardness of the task grants her the control she so desperately craves. She was the one to suggest they power through the night in order to ensure they battle the orcs in the daylight as opposed to in the dark. The heightened visibility will give them an advantage in the coming fight. She’s proud of herself for her practicality, but some of the others in her group are not as pleased. Her girlfriend Seren has bags underneath her eyes, but she’s too polite to accuse Fayde of robbing her of precious sleep.
Maul, on the other hand, has no such qualms.
whumptopia reblogged
Jérémie Renier || Criminal Lovers (Les Amants Criminels)
Officer Jelko Erban
oc werewolf ladywhump commissioned by @silentlygo
content warnings: female whump, gun violence, blood
—
Jelko Erban was accustomed to getting into fights—it was part of her job description, after all. Unofficially, of course. She was an officer of the law and therefore expected to conduct herself as responsibly as possible, but everyone knew her lycanthropy meant she was regularly assigned the more… dangerous assignments. Conflict came with the territory. Supernatural cases ended in violence more often than not, unfortunately, and she was more durable than her fellow officers, so she was frequently placed on the front lines. Normally, her status as the resident tank wasn’t a problem. She charged into the fray, tackling opponents to the ground and even taking bullets to spare her co-workers from suffering fatal wounds. She was stronger than non-lycans, and she healed faster too, so better her than them, she reasoned. She didn’t resent the other cops, the higher-ups, or the full-timers for the sacrifices she was asked to make. As a liaison officer, she was used to being called in for the tough jobs, so she didn’t really mind. Her work with the police made her kind appear less-threatening and more cooperative to non-lycans, who were typically wary of werewolves in general. Besides, she liked helping people. She wouldn’t have gotten involved in the whole arrangement in the first place if she didn’t want to make the world a safer place.
All-in-all, Jelko had a pretty good deal. Steady work, good pay, and only the expected amount of uneasiness from the other cops. She couldn’t complain.
With her skills, advanced abilities, and years of training under her belt, she rarely ran into real problems on the job, but when messes happened… well, things got ugly. She was rather tough, so she only got into trouble on the worst of days.
Today was one of those days.
A Test of Endurance
a commission written for @northofnowhere4
content warnings: whipping, blood, captivity, creepy whumper
(Character B: “Bee” and Character C: “Cee”)
—
Bee can’t take his eyes off his friend. Cee is strapped down to a metal table, gagged and sporting a black eye. It’s Bee’s fault they’re here. Cee came to rescue him, but Whumper caught them, and now his friend is in mortal danger and it’s all his fault.
“I'm so glad you decided to join us.” Whumper claps their hands together, pleased, and smiles down cordially at Cee. “You know what they say.” They ruffle Cee’s tousled hair, and Cee snarls behind the tape sealed over their mouth. “Two is better than one.”
Whumper turns then, redirecting all of their attention to their original captive. “Don’t you think so, Bee?”
Villain Rescues Hero
Sprawled out on the floor of their cell, the hero is still reeling from a swift punch to the gut when the door is kicked open and all hell breaks loose. By the time they catch their breath and gather enough strength to lift their head, all of their captors are down for the count. Brows furrowed in confusion, the hero blinks away their blurry vision… only to be greeted by the sight of the villain standing before them in all of their nefarious glory.
“Well, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes,” the villain drawls, crouching down to their level. The hero scrambles away, their bound hands shielding their bruised face in an instinctual defensive position.
The villain rolls their eyes. “Oh please, I’m not going to hurt you. You’ve already been roughened up enough for my tastes.”
The hero frowns, incredulous, and flinches when their adversary gets too close. “You’re not?”
“No, and if you don’t believe me, you can wait for someone else to come and find you like this.”
The hero lowers their arms, their tensed shoulders relaxing minutely. “You’re... rescuing me?”
The villain sniffs. “Hardly. If anything, I’m salvaging my reputation. It would ruin my image if my nemesis were bested by such amateurs. Now, don’t struggle.”
Without saying anything further, the villain scoops them up, one arm hooked under their knees and the other curled around their back. The hero gasps in surprise, the room spinning in a dizzy blur. They might have a concussion.
Near boneless in the villain’s hold, the hero looks up at them as they’re carried out of the cell. “You’re gonna let me go?”
The villain hums. “For a price.”
The hero’s eyes narrow, not liking where this is going. “You’re asking for a ransom?”
“Have to pay the bills somehow, sweetheart.” The villain smirks down at them, and the hero bristles.
Glaring fiercely, they squirm in upset, trying to break free from their hold. The villain tightens their grip, jostling them a bit, and the hero winces in pain as the movement agitates their numerous injuries. Still, they continue to glower at their unwanted savior.
The villain huffs. “Oh, don’t look so cross. The goons who kidnapped you were the ones who published the demands. I’m just claiming them as my own.”
In the hero’s opinion, the villain looks entirely too pleased with their scheme. Who would pay the ransom? The city? But the public needs the money! The hero claws at their enemy’s shirt, their fingers numb from their wrists being tied too tight with electrical cord. “You, you can’t.”
“I can. It’s not like anyone can stop me, least of all you. You’re quite helpless right now, if you haven’t realized,” the villain replies smoothly, cool eyes raking over their injured frame.
The hero pouts—unintentionally, of course. They’re just in so much pain, so weak from the countless beatings, and now innocent people are going to suffer for their ineptitude. They sniffle a bit and wipe their nose with their forearm.
The villain meets their gaze with an unreadable expression, and then, with a heavy sigh, concedes, “I can, but I might not. After all, I could be persuaded to release you, for free, as long as you make it clear to your adoring fans that I was the one who caught you. You play the part of the hapless victim so well, I’m sure they’ll believe you.”
The hero brightens a little.
The villain’s lips curl into a slow smile. “Would you like that, darling?”
The hero gives a weak nod, their eyes so heavy.
The villain’s smile turns into a smirk. “Use your words, dear. Say please.”
The hero glares for a second before remembering how utterly exhausted they are. They swallow their pride, and, in a low voice, whisper, “Please.”
“Well, since you asked so nicely,” the villain chuckles, and the hero groans, eyes falling shut as they relax into the villain’s hold, forehead resting on their enemy’s shoulder. “Now, let’s get you to a hospital.”