“Why do people find doves to be more beautiful than vultures?” Whumper asked to no one in particular as they drove another nail into Whumpee’s wing. Whumpee flinched but had no more energy left to thrash as they had before.

Whumper readied another nail, this just over the tip of Whumper’s large brown wing. “Because us doves represent life.” They hammered the nail in and Whumpee let out a soft whimper.

Whumper leaned in close, this breath hot on Whumpee’s ear. “And you represent death.” Whumper laughed to themself. “I’m just helping you get in tune with your true nature.”

Whumpee stirring from a deep, medical-induced sleep to the sound of muffled voices, fighting to pry their eyes open to see who it is but their resolve is too weak, their eyelids too heavy.

Their head lolls sideways on the pillow as they draw a slow, sluggish breath, mumbling unintelligibly'Where am I? What's happening?' But their mouth is unable to properly form the words.

The voices pause suddenly, and hesitate, before Whumpee feels a warm gentle hand is stroking their face and hair.

"No, No...shhhh. Shh, It's alright, Whumpee. It's nothing," A soothing voice whispers, lulling them back down. "Just go back to sleep."

"It'll all be over soon..." Is the last words Whumpee hears before the medicine takes over again, causing them to fall back into their slumber.

Thinking about muzzles for vampires. Thinking about one vampire being ordered to muzzle another. Thinking about retractable fangs and a gag that keeps them pressed down. Thinking about fangs that come forward automatically when the vampire is stressed, especially if it's freshly turned, and that being read as aggression. Thinking about forcibly retracted fangs pressing painfully on the bit as the vampire has a panic attack. Thinking about a scared vampire allowing their fangs to be gently pushed back as the gag is inserted, because it would hurt if they thrashed.

“No… please, I can be good.. no! That’ll kill me! Please… don’t.”

“You’ve had your chance, sweetheart. And I think you’re more tough than you give yourself credit for.”

Pretty bby

my favorite thing is when murderbot has too many things going on and replies to a question with a canned buffer phrase. its so funny to me. you stressed out this poor robot so much it had no choice but to go into customer service mode.

one of the punishments i had as a kid was to count the ticks of a metronome. and it is, in fact, probably more annoying than what you're imagining, but im thinking about it in a whump context and oooooooh boy.

on its own it's boring. excruciatingly boring. you can't do anything. you know how pointless it is. you can't think. if someone speaks to you you struggle to answer and also it pisses you off immensely. when you reach big numbers if it's too clicking too fast it's annoying, but if it's too slow you'll lose your count. when it's over you hear phantom clicks. there's a counter in the back of your head, and whenever you hear a repeating noise you count. but that's just annoying.

when you pair it with a motivated whumper tho....

firstly, it's incredibly easy to fake. like yeah whumpee you failed it wasn't 2000 clicks it was 1999. how does whumper know? he just does. don't worry your stupid little head about it. the fear would make everything lasts soooo long. a whumpee who's lost their count hesitating between giving up and trying to continue, unsure which will anger whumper more. knowing there's nothing they can do about it. whumper having a nice chat with whumpee :), who really should make an effort to answer faster. maybe whumper asking them to keep counting while they're being punished.

many thoughts to be had.

hyper-specific field med scenario but bear with me:

A, bleeding, breaths coming in audible, stilted gasps & now unable to keep up with the team, needs immediate first aid but it has to be quick and quiet

the only way medic can do this is with A in B’s lap. there’s no time to go slow, no time to get A more comfortable than B’s steady chest against their back, so medic gives B a grim nod and gets to work.

A tries, through clenched teeth and broken gasps, but eventually they can no longer stifle their screams. B muffles A’s mouth with their hand, pins them gently but firmly still against their chest with the other arm. by the time medic’s done, A’s patched up enough for everyone to get moving, but silent, limp.

the team sets off again, B carrying A on their back.

I love when whumpees are in stress positions but they're not tied up. They don't need to be, because they will hold it of their own accord. Whumper could leave them alone and they'd still maintain position until they physically can't anymore.

Rowan and Ash - Chapter One

Hey all! So I'm trying to ease my way back into posting - no promises as to frequency, since there's still a lot going on IRL (work is crazy and my husband is still having health issues) BUT I have this sitting on my computer so I thought I'd share. As mentioned in my previous post, I can't really tease much more from An Iron Blood Tale: Soot and Blood without dropping major spoilers, but I have been pecking at this little side project on those days when I need a break from AIBT, and it's been fun so I figured why not post it. (If you're wondering, AIBT is still my main project, but I won't be ready to start posting anything from that for some time yet.)

This is very much a side project, the premise just popped into my head one day and I started jotting it down. It's whumpy slavefic, so please mind the content warnings. I may eventually start posting this on AO3? But I'm still kinda undecided on that so we'll see! For now I thought I could at least share it here on tumblr. _____ Content warnings: whump, slavefic, m/m master/slave dynamics, captivity & restraints, self-harm, emotional distress, size difference, nudity but nothing nsfw happens Rating: mature Word Count: 2,220

_____

"He did it to himself," Sefton was whining, yet again, as they walked down the hall. "I won't have those ridiculous unfetterates reporting me to the Civil Ministry. I have witnesses. I didn't touch the brat. He simply went mad."

"Yes, you've made that quite clear, Lord Sefton."

"Heavens knows what set him off. I've done nothing but spoil the pet."

"Mm. Slaves can be unpredictable."

"Well, I've never in all my years—nothing like this!"

They came to a closed door towards the end of the hall, plainer than the rest in Sefton's sprawling home, and stopped. "He's in here, then?" Rowan asked, glad to change the subject. It would forever be the worst part of his job, listening to nobles moan about the shortcomings of their bondslaves like it was somehow the property's fault rather than the owner's. A common pitfall in his line of work, of course, but nonetheless exhausting. "Shall we see him? I'm sure it's nothing I can't handle."

★"A This is not a drill. Containment breach detected.

Repeat: CODE RED!"★

my favorite genre of fictional character is like "i am terrifying to almost everyone, i'm very good at killing, i can endure anything, i've become exceptionally good at playing into my reputation, and if you try to give me positive social interaction i will react with confusion and cower in a corner like an abused animal. and i may try to shoot you. but there is also a chance i may imprint on you like a feral dog receiving its first loving touch! good luck."

Day 1: Mind Control

This is actually my first piece of writing I’m publishing on this blog lol.

TW: Drugging

“Cocaine? I thought you were going to torture me,” Whumpee joked. They had been attempting to hide their nervousness behind a wall of confidence since Whumper brought them here.

“Scopolamine,” Whumper said bluntly.

Whumpee raised their brow as they watched Whumper pace in front of them, holding a vial full of white powder.

“It’s also known as ‘Devil’s Breath’. Comes from a plant grown in South America,” Whumper explained before twisting the cap off the vial.

“And? What does it do?” Whumpee questioned, then joked, “will it make me breathe fire?”

Whumper sighed, resisting the urge to hit Whumpee. No, they had to see if this “Devil’s Breath” really worked. They emptied the vial onto their gloved hand, then held it out in front of Whumpee. Then, they blew the powder into Whumpee’s face, as if they were blowing out the candles on a birthday cake.

Whumpee coughed. Whumper retreated to the other side of the room and leaned against the wall with their arms folded across their chest.

“Now, we wait.”

Whumpee continued to cough and spit the powder from their mouth. They attempted to wipe their face, but were crudely reminded of the chains keeping their arms against the wall. Their vision began to blur slightly, and it started to feel as if their mind was melting. Thoughts drained away and consciousness wasn’t something Whumpee was sure they knew.

Whumper checked their watch and decided that enough time had gone by. They approached Whumpee, whose head had fallen forward, and clapped their hands together loudly. Whumpee’s head shot up.

“Let’s see if this worked. Whumpee, tell me your greatest fear,” Whumper ordered, something Whumpee refused to do before.

“Needles,” Whumpee answered quickly, their speech slightly slurred.

“Good,” Whumper replied, then thought for a moment before ordering, “Now, tell me that you’re mine.”

“I’m yours,” Whumpee obeyed without hesitation.

“Perfect... let’s begin.”

Tropes that always give me whumperflies

Content: noncon nudity, manhandling, injuries, beating, fear, defiant/stoic whumpee

Alright whump community, what do we think ✨

Pulling whumpee closer by the collar.