It has been a while since I have attempted to actively post my own writing on here. But after a mostly successful NaNoWriMo attempt, and an overall increase in my whump writing, I have decided to take the leap... again. I have been a lover of whump for longer than I have known the name, and a writer of whump probably since I first started.
What you'll find here:
- vampire whump
- sibling whump
- heavy caretaking
- plenty of queer characters
- creepy/intimate whumpers
- smut
- NSFW whump
What you won't find:
- pet whump or BBU
- heavy gore
- whump without some form of caretaker
- lady whumpee/whumper
- major character death
Blog Masterlist:
A Dance of Stars and Curses- (primary WIP)
Tropes: M/M/M Relationship, two vampires and a human, fated mates, reincarnation, ex-lover whumper, NSFW whump, vampire whump, smut
Content warnings: kidnapping, manipulation, character death (with reincarnation), slavery, graphic noncon, as well as graphic consensual sex, mentions of past child abuse, general vampire whump (starvation, forced turning, hurt mates, etc.)
Synopsis:
Moments of spare happiness, that was all they had every been afforded. Oliver had not meant to fall for two human blood servants but when he rejected his noble-born mate, Merrick, it was with those two humans that he found happiness. His claim to them did not last. Merrick seeks them out and within hours takes away all that Oliver has come to call his. He forcibly changes one of his mates and places a soul-binding curse on the other. Forcing Oliver to play a cruel game in which he keeps one mate for eternity and watches the other slip through his fingers over and over by Merrick's hand.
In the present day, Oliver and his vampire mate, Leo, have made a sworn promise that when they find their mate this time, it will be the last. They will not lose their mate again. But Merrick is not ready to give up their game, even as the soul of their mate grows weaker. As Oliver and Leo race to find a way to break the soul-binding reincarnation spell on their mate and fight off Merrick, they may lose more this time than they bargained for.
Characters:
Oliver Hallowspire
Leo Hallowspire
Christopher "Kit" Riley
Merrick Nightfell
Viktor Netherlight
Ben Riley
Ezra of House Hallowspire
Althea "Thea" Hallowspire
Orion of House Hallowspire
Main Story:
Cornered in an Alley Pt.1 / Cornered in an Alley Pt. 2 / Rescued /
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Their love for each other is so strong that it makes Whumper sick. So Whumper tries to torture them both by forcing them to choose: their lover or a basic need (food, water, sleep).
Caretaker rescuing Whumpee bridal style. Maybe Whumpee gives them a "my hero" kiss for good measure. BONUS if Whumpee is injured!
Whumpee is injured. Caretaker has to bandage their wounds. The close proximity with each other makes Whumpee's face hot.
Caretaker takes care of Whumpee, who is sick. Even though Whumpee insists on not being taken care of, that it's too much work, Caretaker tells them "I'm doing this because I love you."
Tough love! Whumpee refusing to get help or get their wounds healed. So Caretaker has to give them tough love. Physically or emotionally.
Whumper KNOWS that they'll do anything for the each other, so they kidnapped Whumpee to lure Caretaker into a trap. Caretaker knew it was a trap, but for their lover, they will be willing to die to save them.
(Feel free to add more, and happy Valentine's Day (and to those who don't celebrate it or are single/aroace, I hope y'all have a great day and know that I platonically love y'all ❤️))
Thinking about some consequences of overusing magic.
Like elemental mages might struggle to regulate body temperature after they overdo it, swinging back and forth between fevers and unnaturally low core temperatures.
Maybe they develop nerve damage. They might notice warning signs, like the burning in their hands after each fireball taking longer to subside or hands that are still numb and cold hours after the last ice beam.
A veteran mage whose battleworn fingers twitch and tingle painfully after years of calling lightning, is now struggling to spark anything at all.
Manipulating water and air requires one to be sensitive to its subtle ebb and flow, so overuse can leave a mage dizzy and hypersensitive to touch, as if the atmosphere itself is fighting back, begging them to stop.
There are the rare few who can sing to the clouds to summon gales, speak thunder and exhale blizzards. They make it seem effortless but what the others don't see is what happens after the battle, when they are coughing up blood, wheezing through frostbitten and constricted airways, and can barely speak above a whisper.
Repeated microfractures in their ribs and ruptured blood vessels, damaged vocal cords, chronic respiratory problems - there is a reason such storm magic is only used in short bursts and only as a last resort.
Psychics often experience brain fog and multiday headaches after pushing themselves too hard. Some psychics get lost in the stream of psionic energy and not only do they start losing touch with reality, they don't want to come back. The magic is intoxicating; someone needs to break their trance.
Whumpee has done their best to not give into whumper's taunts and demands. They can hit them, starve them, whatever. But Whumpee won't give into them. They can take whatever comes.
Until Whumpee comes into their prison one day. They have the usual meager tray of food with them and a cup (never a glass) of water. However, Whumpee's eyes immediately dart to something on the tray. Their heart practically stops. There, in the middle of the rations, is one of their sibling's favorite things. They carry it everywhere, hell they practically sleep with it. So how...no.
"How did you get that?" Whumpee croaks. It's the first words Whumpee has said in days.
Whumper smirks as they set the tray down in front of Whumpee.
"I have my ways," they reply slyly. Like Whumpee's head wasn't spinning and their mouth had become dryer than sand.
"I swear," Whumpee says through gritted teeth. "If you did something, I'll-"
Whumper holds their hands up in a mock defense. "Relax," they say. "They're perfectly safe and sound." Whumper bends down and places a gentle hand on Whumpee's shoulder. "Just remember what I can do."
Whumpee stares at the object again, barely acknowledging Whumper as they pat them on the shoulder before leaving, the door's lock clicking shut. With shaking hands, Whumpee grabs the item off the tray. They rotate it in their hands, memorizing every scratch and stain.
Their sibling had to be alright. There's no way Whumper would stoop that low, would they?
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Personally I like to see it go even further: blindfold them altogether, give them a good shove and make them stumble forward actually blinded until they bump into someone and don't know if it's friend or foe, and they can't try and hide how hurt or scared or unsure they are because they're too busy finding their footing, off balance in the dark
Sparta kick them in the back so they stumble towards caretaker and then fall at their feet. Maybe whumpee's hands are tied behind their back too so they faceplant when they fall
Villain sighed and took the glass out of their whining nemesis' hand. "That's enough, darling. You're at risk of revealing us both." They grabbed the swaying Hero by the armpits. "One more drink and it'll go straight to your head, I'm afraid."
Teammates/Found Family witnessing Whumpee, whom they've just met, being harmed in some way and going absolutely feral in perfect unison without even having to think twice about it
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Mental control Whumper who, in a fight against Caretaker, possesses Whumpee's body and mocks them with it.
Whumpee's normally subdued and gentle expressions are twisted into mischievous grins and cackling laughter as Whumper dances around Caretaker with glee.
"I should've done this sooner!"
They're freely swinging their weapon at Caretaker, knowing Caretaker can't do anything to fight back for fear of hurting Whumpee's body.
The one time Caretaker instinctively deflects an attack, their blade slashes into a Whumpee that Whumper had pushed back into consciousness. Whumpee cries out and Caretaker's face pales as they stare at Whumpee's blood splattered onto them, when they realise what they've done.
"Oh dear, Whumpee.. Seems like you aren't that precious afterall. Pfft."
"Give me another chance." | Trapped | Misunderstanding | Deception
CW: noncon touch (non-sexual), intimate/obsessive villain, injury, threats, established history between characters
@juneofdoom
*~*~*~*
There was nowhere left to run; the alley ended in brick, and Villain blocked the exit with infuriating ease.
“Go on,” Villain said, spreading their arms slightly and smiling mockingly. “Try.”
The bait was obvious. They both knew it.
Hero still lunged sideways anyway.
Villain's arm snaked around their waist before they'd made it two steps, dragging them effortlessly back into reach. A harsh shove next and Hero was sent crashing into the brick wall hard enough for stars to burst across their vision.
Before they could recover, Villain’s hand slammed beside their head, caging them in.
Hero sucked in a rattling breath.
Villain stood too close for comfort now. Rain clung to their lashes. Hero could smell smoke and steel and the faint copper tang of blood.
“You know,” Villain said thoughtfully, “I was actually starting to feel insulted.”
Hero swallowed hard, throat bobbing. “...What?”
“All that running.” Villain clutched at their chest in mock offence, wearing the smile of someone thoroughly enjoying their own performance. “After everything we’ve been through?”
Hero shoved at them.
Villain's hand closed around their wrist.
Hero jerked back. The grip didn't budge.
Without looking away, Villain lifted their captured hand and pressed their palm to their own cheek.
Hero tried to pull free.
Villain's fingers tightened.
"See?" they said softly. "Was that so difficult?"
Hero yanked uselessly against their grip. “Let go!”
“But you’ve finally stopped pretending.” Villain practically purred, tightening their hold just enough to make Hero wince. “I’ve been waiting all night for this part.”
Hero hated the way their breathing hitched.
Hated that Villain heard it too.
The alley felt unbearably narrow now. Villain seemed to fill it entirely, leaving Hero nowhere to look but at them. Hero couldn’t think around them properly when they got like this—soft-voiced and intent and terrifyingly patient.
Villain leaned closer. “Tell me something,” they murmured. “When did you realise you weren’t winning?”
Hero glared at them silently.
Villain smiled again. “Was it when I dislocated your shoulder?” They brushed their fingers lightly against Hero’s arm and Hero flinched violently before they could stop themselves. Villain’s expression sharpened with delight. “No, wait. That was later.”
“Go to hell.”
“That’s not an answer.”
Hero’s knees nearly buckled as another wave of dizziness rolled through them. Villain’s grip steadied automatically at their waist before they could fall properly.
Hero scowled. The bastard was right, but they didn’t have to rub it in!
“And yet,” the bastard Villain continued anyway, voice deceptively soft, “you’re still trying so hard not to beg.”
Hero stiffened.
A slow smile spread across Villain’s face, sharp with satisfaction.
“Oh, you hate that word, don’t you?”
Hero’s face burned with anger despite the cold rain. “I’m not begging you for shit.”
“No?” Villain asked mildly.
Their hand slid up slowly, fingers curling around Hero’s throat. Not squeezing yet, just resting there possessively enough to make Hero’s pulse jump beneath their palm.
“You always sound so pretty when you’re desperate.”
Hero’s stomach dropped.
“Don’t—”
“Do you remember last winter?” Villain interrupted, malice dancing across their face. “Warehouse district. You had a collapsed lung.” Their thumb brushed lightly against Hero’s pulse. “You could barely breathe. Kept looking at me like you thought I might actually let you die.”
Hero looked away.
Villain caught their jaw immediately and forced them back.
“Ah-ah. Stay with me.”
Their voice had gone warm now. Interested.
“You said please six times that night.”
Hero’s face twisted with humiliation. “Shut up.”
“And then,” Villain continued like they hadn’t spoken, “you grabbed my coat and said—”
“I said shut up.”
“‘Please don’t leave me here!’”
Hero shoved at them again, weaker this time. More irrational than forceful.
Villain barely moved.
“Oh, that hit a nerve.” Villain sounded delighted. “You remember.”
Hero wished they didn’t.
Villain watched the shame crawl slowly across their expression and looked damn near reverent about it.
“That’s the thing about you,” they murmured. “You act so righteous until you’re cornered.” Their grip tightened slightly against Hero’s throat. “Then suddenly you remember how badly you don’t want to die.”
Hero’s breathing had gone uneven now. They could hear it themselves. Fast and shallow and humiliatingly frightened.
Villain could definitely hear it too.
They leaned closer still. “Go on.”
Hero stared at them.
“Ask nicely.”
“No,” Hero said too quickly.
Villain’s smile turned vicious.
“Oh, that was pathetic.”
Hero’s chest tightened painfully.
They hated this.
Hated how Villain could peel them apart piece by piece until there was nothing left except raw fear and instinct and the desperate need to get out.
Villain studied them for another long moment before sighing softly.
“You know,” they said, “I was going to break your ribs.”
Hero looked up sharply at that. Villain, meanwhile, appeared far more interested in tracing the line of their throat.
“But now I’m reconsidering.” Their thumb traced Hero’s pulse again. “Because this is much more entertaining.”
Hero swallowed against the hand at their throat.
Villain watched the movement with open interest.
"Go on," Villain said quietly. "You already know what I'm asking for."
Hero closed their eyes.
The rain continued to fall. Their shoulder hurt. Their legs hurt. Everything hurt. Standing felt difficult. Thinking felt difficult. Villain's voice seemed to fill the entire alley, leaving no room for anything else.
“Please,” Hero said finally, the word scraping out broken and quiet.
Villain closed their eyes briefly like they were savouring it.
Hero immediately hated themselves for saying it.
Villain looked positively euphoric.
“Again.”
Hero’s face burned.
“...Don’t do this.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
The rain hammered against the alley around them. Somewhere far away, sirens wailed faintly through the city.
Hero’s legs shook harder.
Villain waited patiently.
They knew they’d win this eventually.
The absolute certainty of it was unbearable. Hero looked away first.
“Please,” they whispered again, voice breaking. “Just—give me another chance.”
Villain went still for half a heartbeat.
Then they laughed softly, the sound warm with genuine pleasure.“God,” they murmured. “I could listen to that for hours.”
*~*~*~*
Scribbled this in the dead of night under circumstances that my lawyer has advised me not to discuss 😡😤 am gonna whack him with his damn hammer
this was supposed to be June of Doom #3, but according to several unreliable sources, including "the date," it is June 7.
We are ignoring this. Anyone attempting to inform me that a week of June has already passed will be launched directly into the sun.
it all leads back to that glowing bastard eventually
General taglist (lmk if you want to be added or removed! <333): @stars-hide-our-fires
A noble whumpee, after having been held captive and tortured by whumper and then saved, recovers and faces whumper in a fair fight. Whumpee defeats them with no difficulty. Whumper is lying on the ground, whumpee stepping on their chest holding their weapon to whumper’s throat. They have to kill whumper for the cause, not out of revenge. But they can’t bring themselves to do it, because they don’t believe it right to kill another human being. They are not afraid, they do not pity whumper — they simply don’t have so much bitterness inside them as to go against all their beliefs. They hesitate, putting themselves in great danger.
And that’s when caretaker suddenly steps in to make that final blow. And they don’t do it for the cause, no, they don’t care about the cause. They do it out of pure revenge for everything that whumpee has suffered.
Two Caretakers overhear a scuffle coming from the bathrooms. Some sort of fight?
They rush in to find Whumpee being beaten and raped by Whumper.
But instead of Whumpee fighting back - of which there are obvious signs they were doing - now they just have a blank stare.
They’ve dissociated; mentally gone somewhere else, somewhere safer, despite the horrors still being inflicted upon them and their blood that they’re now lying in.
The Caretakers don’t hesitate to stop Whumper’s attack, but serious damage has already been done, and not only physically.
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“Sir. You are exhibiting persistent, high-frequency caretaking behaviors toward younger, smaller, emotionally dependent team members with a history of attachment needs and a desire for proximity.“
“Are you diagnosing me with parental instinct?”
“Yes.”
“I reject your theory.”
“You can’t just opt out. That’s not how parenthood works.”
“Neither is being diagnosed with it! They’e more like parasites I can’t get rid off!”
“Do you typically make lunch boxes for parasites and tuck them into bed?”
Aimless Whumper @elisabethrosewrites - Tumblr Blog | Tumlook
