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Welcome to my Whump Blog!

Hey everyone! My name is Lian/Max, and here I'll be writing and posting series with heavy whump elements! Below is my main whump series.

🦋 Waiting on a Fairytale: Four-book series. HEAVY worldbuilding and plot. 200+ total chapters. Takes place WAY in the past of my main series (but can be read on its own!).

♥️ BOOK 1 — Butterfly Blood

♦️ BOOK 2 — Moth Maddness

♣️ BOOK 3 — Honey Heart

♠️ BOOK 4 — Solemn Spies

My Art! // My Posts! // Asks! // Intro Post! // Additions! // Rambles! // Reblogs!

Main blog: @lillianrs

Art blog: @lillianrs-art

Photography blog: @lillianrs-pics

Book Series blog: @multimagical

Feel free to send me asks, and message me, and spam like/reblog. I promise you can't bother me. It's impossible. I don't care if we're mutuals or not. Go nuts. Also please don't hesitate to call me by my name(s) (Lian/Max) because it's very gender affirming.

Please enjoy your stay!

Full list of stories below the cut...

Whumper was as sore of a loser as they come. They were a violent loser, in fact. Having a large ego and too much pride tends to do that, and because of it Whumper always viewed losing as a hit to their ego, and an insult to their intelligence… Though if someone is willing to beat up their opponent after a loss, I think it's safe to say they weren’t high on intelligence in the first place, at least not in the emotional sense.

Cw: noncon

Whumpee was weak, to no fault of their own.

They were greatly malnourished from the few meals they were allowed to eat, and fatigued from lack of movement. Not to mention how physically drained they'd feel after a long torture session or a good beating. All of that very little energy they had was drained right out of them by the end of the day.

So, when Whumper decided to have their way with them after-the-fact, there wasn't anything Whumpee could do besides lay there and take it with sleepy eyes and bruised skin.

Cw: pre-noncon / nsfwhump

After all the relentless torture that Whumpee went through, they thought they could handle anything. They were defiant, they were brave, and through it all they never let themself be degraded down by begging. They took it all with their head held high, refusing to be broken.

This attitude changed dramatically when they were roughly thrown face-down into the mattress. It didn't take much at all for them to switch up.

“No, no, please— please don't do this to me!” They choked up as tears welled in their panicked eyes.

It wasn't enough for Whumper to just torture Whumpee on the outside. They wanted their pet to truly suffer, and suffering could only be achieved through constant torment.

All of Whumpee's food was laced with various drugs and poisons, and the poor captive never knew what would follow. Most nights it was horrendous, churning nausea that had them throwing up into the toilet at 3am. Others, their muscles would cramp, their body would sweat, or they would feel sicker than they ever had before in their entire life. Sometimes all at once.

It was hard for Whumpee to remember what it felt like to be normal and healthy. If they ever got out of this hell, their body would be destroyed and permanently scarred, a full recovery couldn't be made from this.

Whumpee struggled against their captor every step of the way, they weren’t going to be kidnapped without a fight. Despite this, to Whumper, they were much weaker and smaller, and their efforts were nothing more than a mild inconvenience.

By the time they arrived at the location, Whumper was so fed up with their attitude that they threw them down the basement stairs with the most angered push they could muster. While in their mind they told themself they didn’t care what would happen as a result, if Whumpee did end up dying from it after all that work, Whumper was going to be pissed.

Whumpee didn’t have a very high spice tolerance, really, they didn’t even have one at all. They absolutely hated spice, and even the most mild of it would cause them pain that they just couldn’t handle. Whumper was well aware of this.

Any food that they were given was spicy. Most days, Whumper was generous, and only gave them something mild, which still caused Whumpee quite the stir. Other days, when Whumpee had upset them, they would be served something that even seasoned spice lovers may find challenging.

The circus in the modern day is much nicer than it was in the past. No longer are animals abused to do tricks, and disabled people aren’t paraded around as freakshows. Now mostly a stage for performance artists and acrobatics, people were much more comfortable supporting it. This didn’t make this circus in particular any less miserable for Whumpee.

Daily Drabble #152

This had been sitting in my inbox since June 1st, 2025. Anon if you're still here this is for you lol

Whumpee believed in faeries, and despite how dangerous they knew they could be, they spent a large portion of their free time seeking them out, hunting for them. They knew all of the things you should avoid, so if they just followed the fae rules… how dangerous could it really be?

When Whumpee finally finds one, they’re so overcome with joy they forget to hold onto that sense. Caution went out the window as their guard was dropped, and the faerie was able to easily capture them. Now Whumpee was reduced to them and all their fae friends’ human pet; their entertainment.

Advancing technology forward was always Whumpee's passion, they dedicated their whole life and career to building the future. They were prepared for the possibility of a robot uprising happening; they were NOT prepared for their lab partner to use their devices against them.

Super-security. Advanced locking systems. Small, high-quality movement-tracking cameras. Just a small amount of their inventions was enough to keep them trapped, here in their underground lab. Turns out their partner was planning this for quite some time.

The water wasn’t scary to Whumpee, not in the slightest. They loved the water, in fact. Oftentimes they fantasized about drowning, being engulfed, surrounded. To them, such a death felt peaceful rather than stressful. Of course, reality is often different from the fantasies in one’s head.

Whumper was committed to making their wildest dreams come true. They wanted this, did they not? 

Whumpee was waterboarded. Their head was held underwater until they inhaled, left coughing up the liquid from their lungs. They were made to swim until they were so exhausted they couldn’t keep going. They were going to be afraid. 

Whumpee ran through the forest as fast as their fatigued, malnourished legs could carry them. Despite running on nothing but fear and adrenaline, they were mindful of their steps. They didn’t want to trip and have all of their progress ruined.

Whumper was far behind them now; they didn’t chase after them. A part of them was unnerved by this, the other part just assumed they weren’t worth the trouble. Either way, they were going to be free and there was nothing Whumper was going to do about it—

Cw: Broken bones

Whumpee was very crafty with their hands. If Whumper had to describe it, they would say it’s like owning a dirty, thieving raccoon. They were good at picking locks, untying themself, and many other things that Whumper really didn’t like. It was time to put a stop to this.

Both of Whumpee’s arms were strapped to a table.

“What’s going on?” Whumpee asked, trying their best to hide the panic in their voice. This wasn’t usually how their torture sessions went; this was new.

“I’m putting an end to your little escape artist hands, that’s what I’m doing.” Whumper responded, sitting down in a chair. They gently fiddled with Whumpee’s fingers, which then started to tremble, “cute,” Whumper said to themself before immediately bending their finger backwards as far as they could.

Whumpee let out a guttural scream, the pain radiating all the way down their arm. It hurt so bad they couldn’t even speak.

It was drilled into Whumpee very early on to never wake Whumper up, no matter what. It was also drilled into them to not make a mess of any kind. So, being tied up at night and needing to go to the bathroom was an all-night torment.

They could try and hold it in with great discomfort, and struggle to sleep. Or, they could wet themself and stir in the embarrassment— as well as face Whumper’s wrath in the morning.

That's not even mentioning how uncomfortable it would be to sit in their own piss all night... but holding it in didn't exactly feel much better. Especially next to how cold the room was, and how numb their wrists had become from the pressure of the rope that held them.

Whumpee was an inconsolable mess as they were strapped down to a table, completely unable to move. They were covered in snot, sweat, and tears all through a frenzy of noises that would be begging— if they could manage to calm down enough to be coherent.

Whumper sat with their elbow on the table, hand on their head in exasperation, “Would you please calm yourself? All this whining is giving me a headache.” They tapped the scalpel in their hand impatiently against the metal of the table.