18+ Only

I'm Ace and I'm Kinky. Call me Bubbles. If you know me no you don't. Age: 30 Warning: Will include dead dove content including non/dubcon and whump. Current obsession: Lucifer from Hazbin Hotel Header by: blank-out

[anaceafterdark]

Call me Bubbles! Im 30+ years old, ace/aro, and surprisingly horny sometimes.

This is an 18+ blog. Do not interact with me if under 18.

Some things Ill post about. So be sure to blacklist if anything makes you uncomfortable. A lot of dead dove kinks.

Medical, Noncon, Pregnancy, Cannibalism, Lots of whump, Petplay, Hypno, Predator/Prey, Light torture, Sadomasochism, mild gore.

[anaceafterdark]

A whumpee that could leave anytime they wished. No chains, no locked doors. They could just walk out and never look back.

They walk out the door. They walk down the dirt walkway from their house - their prison. At the edge of the property line they stop. Whumper watches from the doorway, posture relaxed.

Just one more step. Whumpee can see themselves go from a walk to a sprint as they get further and further away.

Just one step.

Just one.

Just one.

It's a mantra repeating itself over and over.

But nothing happens. They can't make themselves go.

For what's the point? They have nothing. No money, no transportion, and no one to go home to. They are truly and utterly alone. All they have to their name was the clothes on their back, and even then whumper had picked oit their clothes, citing them as a gift.

So yes they could leave. But this all behind them. But they won't. They can't. There's nothing.

They can't look whumper in the eye as they walk back; eyes downcast.

An arm wraps around their shoulder.

They let themselves be guided and maneuvered onto the couch. Whumpee pulls them close, onto their lap. Hands curl around their neck pulling them close.

Whumpee weeps.

Whumper just grins.

The outside world moves on without them.

[fealty-to-thee]

More characters ending disabled and happy NOW

[doubleca5t]

Listen, fellow trans women, I love you all, but if you think that trans men or transmascs are an oppressor class you need to log the fuck off because you are being brainpoisoned by discourse-mongers. That is a legitimately rocks for brains take

[bonnbonvoyage]

"Target acquired, this man had destroyed numerous fatui strongholds and bases effectively killing many of our own in the process"

[anaceafterdark]

A whumpee that could leave anytime they wished. No chains, no locked doors. They could just walk out and never look back.

They walk out the door. They walk down the dirt walkway from their house - their prison. At the edge of the property line they stop. Whumper watches from the doorway, posture relaxed.

Just one more step. Whumpee can see themselves go from a walk to a sprint as they get further and further away.

Just one step.

Just one.

Just one.

It's a mantra repeating itself over and over.

But nothing happens. They can't make themselves go.

For what's the point? They have nothing. No money, no transportion, and no one to go home to. They are truly and utterly alone. All they have to their name was the clothes on their back, and even then whumper had picked oit their clothes, citing them as a gift.

So yes they could leave. But this all behind them. But they won't. They can't. There's nothing.

They can't look whumper in the eye as they walk back; eyes downcast.

An arm wraps around their shoulder.

They let themselves be guided and maneuvered onto the couch. Whumpee pulls them close, onto their lap. Hands curl around their neck pulling them close.

Whumpee weeps.

Whumper just grins.

The outside world moves on without them.

[filthyskunk]

i've been doodling this guy so... this page aint exaclty sfw, have some of the safe suggestive ones down here

ive posted full on my other socials if ur into wires... giggles

fry that tv

[kirspeon]

[cranberry-branflakes]

which heart did you get when you liked this post?

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when reblogging, please add the pride tags I've included! if not, anybody liking your reblog will only see regular tumblr hearts :)

[oh-how-whumperful]

The Last Thing He Gives – Calibration

[Content warning: defiant whumpee, medical whump, stress position, restraints, interrogation]

He wakes to pressure.

Not pain at first.

Just pressure—deep in his shoulders, across his chest, threaded down both arms in a way that feels wrong before he fully understands why.

Then sensation catches up.

His eyes open sharply.

The lights are dimmer.

Not dark.  Never dark.  But lower than before, the white glare softened into something colder, flatter.  Enough to make the room feel unfamiliar for half a second.

Enough to disorient.

His breathing stutters once before he steadies it.

Okay.

Okay.

His wrists are still restrained, but higher now.  Spread wider apart than before.  Elevated just enough above the line of his shoulders that tension pulls continuously through the joints.  Not unbearable.

Not yet.

That’s the problem.

The position has no relief in it.  No way to settle.  Every inch of him feels suspended in the anticipation of strain.

His ankles are secured separately now too, farther apart than before, keeping his spine locked flat against the table.

He tests one arm instinctively.  The restraint answers with a sharp metallic pull.

And pain immediately flashes hot through his shoulder socket.  Not from the restraint itself.

From the position.

His jaw clenches before he can stop it.

“…you redesigned the furniture,” he mutters hoarsely.

No response.

But there’s movement nearby.  Not hidden this time.

A chair sits several feet from the table, angled toward him with deliberate neatness.  Someone occupies it already.  Watching.

The same composed figure from before.

Clean sleeves.  Straight posture.  Hands folded loosely together.

Waiting.

His stomach tightens despite himself.

That’s new.

“You know,” he says after a second, voice rough from disuse, “most people buy me dinner before the bondage setup.”

Nothing.

The figure studies him for another long moment before speaking.

“You slept intermittently for three hours.”

His throat feels dry enough to crack.  “Congratulations to me?”

“No sedatives were required.”

That lands oddly.

Not praise.

Assessment.

He shifts again despite the warning already screaming through his shoulders.  The movement drags another sharp line of pain through both arms, deeper this time, immediate and ugly enough to pull a harder breath from him.

The figure notices.

Everything here notices.

“Muscular fatigue beginning,” they say calmly.

“Yeah,” he says tightly. “That tends to happen when you hang people up like spare parts.”

No reaction.

The figure rises from the chair.

His body goes still automatically.

Not fear, he tells himself.  Readiness.

The person approaches the table without hurry, carrying a slim tablet in one hand.  No instruments.  No tray.

That somehow feels worse.

They stop beside him.  “Your cooperation will reduce duration.”

He laughs once under his breath.  “Sure it will.”

The tablet activates with a soft tone.  The figure glances at it briefly.

Then:

“State your name.”

He stares at the ceiling.  “No.”

A pause.  No immediate consequence.

His pulse doesn’t lower anyway.

The figure taps the screen once.

Something beneath the table shifts with a quiet mechanical sound.

Then—

His arms are pulled another inch upward.

The pain is instantaneous.

A violent stretch tears through both shoulders hard enough to wrench a sound out of him before he can stop it—a sharp, involuntary gasp as every muscle across his chest locks tight in reflex.  His back arches automatically against the restraints.

The position holds.  Doesn’t release.

Oh, fuck that—

He sucks air carefully through his nose, fighting to force his muscles to unclench, but there’s nowhere for the strain to go.  It just sits there, digging deeper into the joints with every breath.

Not sharp anymore.  Heavy.  Grinding.

The interrogator watches him stabilize.

“State your name.”

He laughs again, but it shakes at the edges now.

“…creative,” he manages.

Another tap.  The table shifts again.

Not upward this time.

Outward.

His arms spread wider.

A white-hot bolt tears through his left shoulder so suddenly his vision flashes.  He chokes on the breath that tries to escape him, fingers convulsing hard against the restraints as pain radiates down both arms in brutal, pulsing waves.

The position stops there.  Held precisely at the threshold before something tears.

Tears.

His breathing loses rhythm for a second.  The interrogator waits through it patiently.

“State your name.”

He squeezes his eyes shut hard enough to see sparks.

Don’t react.

Too late for that now.

“…go to hell,” he bites out.

Silence.

Then:

“Deflection maintained.”

The tablet chimes softly.  The table does not move again.

Instead, the restraints at his wrists tighten incrementally.

Small adjustment.

Tiny.

But in this position it changes everything.

Pressure bites hard across already strained joints, forcing his arms into stricter alignment.  The pain deepens instantly—less explosive than before, more invasive.  A relentless pull buried deep under muscle and tendon.

His shoulders tremble.  He hates that they can see it.

The interrogator’s voice remains perfectly level.  “You accessed Facility Archive Seven on the nineteenth.”

His eyes open slowly.

There it is.  Real questions.

He swallows against the dryness in his throat.  “Sounds fake.”

“Who authorized your entry?”

He says nothing.

The strain builds by degrees now—not mechanically, but biologically.  Muscles tiring.  Nerves inflaming.  The slow dawning realization that his body cannot maintain this position indefinitely.

That’s intentional.

The interrogator watches the silence stretch.  Then asks calmly: “What did you remove?”

Another adjustment.  Not wider.

Higher.

The change is minimal.  The effect isn’t.

Pain lances viciously through both shoulders, deep enough now to feel nauseating.  His head jerks back against the table with a muffled sound as his entire upper body strains involuntarily against the restraints.

A broken breath escapes him.  His hands are shaking openly now.  He can’t stop it.

The interrogator waits until his breathing starts working again.  “What did you remove?”

“Nothing,” he snaps immediately.

Too fast.

The interrogator’s eyes flick briefly to the tablet.

“Stress elevation inconsistent with response confidence.”

Shit.

He turns his head sharply toward them despite the position screaming in protest.  “You measuring my heartbeat now?”

“Yes.”

That shouldn’t make his stomach drop the way it does.

The interrogator steps closer.

“Who else accessed the archive?”

“No one.”

A beat.

Then the interrogator says, almost conversationally:

“That answer was truthful.”

His chest tightens.

Why tell him that?

Before he can process it—

The restraints pull wider again.

This time he actually cries out.  The sound tears free before he can contain it, rough and sharp as agony rips through his left shoulder hard enough to make his entire arm spasm violently against the restraint.

For one horrifying second he thinks something dislocated.  The pain surges hot and unstable through the joint, radiating down into his elbow, his wrist, his hand—

Then settles just enough to remain survivable.

Barely.

He’s breathing too fast now.  He knows it.  Can’t stop it.

Sweat slicks cold along the back of his neck despite the freezing room.

The interrogator studies him with clinical focus.  “Why did you enter the archive?”

He laughs once—breathless, wrecked around the edges.

“You really—” he sucks in air sharply as another pulse of pain cuts through the shoulder, “—really need better security.”

The interrogator regards him silently.  Then reaches down.

Not to the tablet.

To his arm.

Gloved fingers press carefully against the damaged shoulder.

Not gentle.

Precise.

Testing.

The pressure hits something deep in the joint and pain detonates instantly through his arm.  He jerks hard against the restraints with a strangled sound, muscles locking uselessly as panic flashes bright and animal through his chest.

“Easy,” the interrogator says calmly.

The word almost makes him hate them.

Their fingers press again.  Slightly different angle.

His vision blurs.

“Answer the question.”

“Fuck—”

Pressure.  White pain spears downward through his shoulder blade hard enough to make his whole body shake.

“Why did you enter the archive?”

“I didn’t take anything!” he snaps, voice cracking violently this time.

The room goes still.  Too still.

The interrogator slowly removes their hand from his shoulder.

Looks at the tablet.  Then back at him.

“You did not deny entry.”

The realization hits him like another blow.

No.

No, no—

His pulse spikes so hard he can hear it.

The interrogator watches the reaction with terrible attentiveness.  “Interesting,” they murmur.

He clamps his mouth shut hard enough to hurt.

Idiot.

Pain throbs relentlessly through both shoulders now, each pulse of his heartbeat grinding deeper into exhausted muscle.  His arms are trembling continuously.

The interrogator returns to the chair.

Sits.  Composed.  Unhurried.

Like they have all the time in the world.

“You will continue answering questions.”

His breathing still won’t steady completely.  “And if I don’t?”

The interrogator folds their hands again.

“Your joints will fail before the restraints do.”

Silence.

Cold and absolute.

His stomach twists hard.

Because the worst part—

The worst part is that they say it like a measurement.

Not a threat.

The tablet gives another soft tone.  The interrogator looks down at it briefly.

Then asks: 

“What were you looking for?”

Taglist: @stars-hide-our-fires @elvenarcane @sir-fenris @whumpy-daydreams @ziptiesnfries

Please let me know if you want to be added to the taglist! <3

[greelin]

i ❤️ faceless character designs like yesss keep the mask on… Obscurity is so hot

[contemptible-scoundrel]

THE FRENCH FUJOSHI: and you will put ze tips of your penise togezher, oui? and you will insert yourself into 'iz boyhole, oui?

[velvettedarling]

Quick thing tho...

[anaceafterdark]

Is there any sort of whump terminology list somewhere? Like the more widely used types of whumper/whumpee?

[cepheusgalaxy]

If there is i dont know where but i can make an attempt at one:

Whumpee: Character who is whumped

Whumper: Character doing the whump

Caretaker: Character who takes care of whumpee either in between the whump, in the aftermath or in recovery. (Sometimes used interchangeably with "loved one" to imply a positive relationship even if they are not shown in the story doing any caretaking anymore—but that's not the primary way it is used!)

Carewhumpee: A joint role. Character who both is whumped and takes care of other whumpees. Often a self-sacrificial type, not always.

Whumperee: Whumper + whumpee in one. Both gets hurt and hurts others. Some examples could be an assassin who carries out cruelty upon orders but is also kept on a tight leash by their boss or leader.

Carewhumper: Another joint role. Character who both takes care of and hurts the whumpee(s). Might be someone who is usually cruel but needs to keep Whumpee alive so they take care of them when needed, for example.

Bad Caretaker: Sometimes confused with the carewhumper, and to some these archetypes do overlap, but there is some discussion about where to draw the line. Might be defined as a character that's supposed to be a caretaker but ends up doing more harm than good.

Intimate or Creepy Whumper: Some make a distinction between the two terms but I personally see them as similar; often used to describe whumpers that are focused on things like whumper's "beauty" or "how pretty they look when crying" and may have sexual undertones. The former is most often used in those scenarios than the latter, I've found.

Sadistic Whumper: ...Yeah, just what it says on the tin. They're doing the deed for the sake of it.

Reluctant Whumper: The opposite of the previous one, they do not want to do the whumping or have strong reservations against it. Might overlap with the Whumperee and is being forced to whump others by someone else, or perhaps they feel like circumstances force their hand.

Defiant Whumpee: Moving into whumpee archetypes territory! A whumpee who opposes and defies their whumper(s) and doesn't give in. Refuses to colaborate, usually wants to make their captor/whumper's job as difficult as possible.

Compliant Whumpee: Their opposite. Complies with the whumper(s) as much as they can, obeys the rules that are set and goes along what's demanded of them. Their compliance may be out of fear, out of loyalty, or born from something else.

note: Sometimes whumpees fit a variety of these archetypes at once, flipping between a defiant or a compliant state as the situation changes, or in a spectrum between the two extremes. They may also start as one and grow into the other over the course of a story, ie. Whumpee starts out defiant but as they are worn out from months of captivity and torture, they start complying to avoid further punishment in an attempt at self-preservation.

Conditioned Whumpee: Usually a whumpee that's been with whumper for quite a while now. They usually have trained responses and reactions that influence their behavior as a direct result of whumper's actions and "conditioning", ie. Calling whumper by a certain title, being afraid of rescue, etc. Might overlap with the Compliant Whumpee, but not always. Often paired with a whumpee who was "born into it" ie. a slave whumpee that's been raised into this kind of environment from early childhood.

Stoic Whumpee: A whumpee that does not show their pain or sadness or "weakness" to others, and rather keeps them hidden. This may be through refusing to give whumper the satisfaction of a reaction, or through not wanting to burden others with their feelings. May overlap with the Defiant Whumpee (especially in the former) but not always.

Captive Whumpee: Moving onto a different kind of whumpee archetype, from "behaviors" to "roles"! This might be one of the most common archetypes; A whumpee who was captured by whumper for whatever reason and is probably being tortured in a basement. They are kept in a dingy cell and not allowed to leave. They end up relying on whumper for necessities like food and water. Probably have restrains and chains as well.

Pet Whumpee: Often a sub-type of the Captive Whumpee; A whumpee that's being "trained" by the whumper(s) as a sort of human pet, to be obedient, conditioned and kind of a slave. Might be paired with a "Creepy Whumper". If captive, they were usyally captured because the whumper(s) thought they would give a "good/pretty pet".

Living Weapon Whumpee: A whumpee that is used as an assassin or weapon of war, or perhaps an attack dog. They are trained to be deadly and ruthless and to carry out the whumper(s)'s shady business. May be a bodyguard, overlap with the Pet Whumpee, be a secret superweapon or perhaps a part of the military. Often very dehumanized and depending on the setting, may have magical powers, body mods or tech implants that make them more powerful and "suited" to the role.

Lab Whumpee: Or a "Lab Rat" Whumpee, a whumpee who is used as a test subject for usually painful, usually illegal experiments on a shady underground facility—or perhaps by a secret government project, depending on your story. The experimentation may involve human experimentation, an attempt to give them powers, an attempt to research their powers, or any other number of things. Can sometimes overlap with the Living Weapon. Might be captive or perhaps "born/raised into it" from early childhood.

Villain Whumpee: From Hero/Villain settings, a whumpee who is also antagonistic to the local heroes. This may go in a variety of ways: They could be a Living Weapon/Whumperee type that acts under the order of a more powerful "Supervillain", they could be someone who is redeemed and trying to do better, they could be an underdog forced into criminal life due to poverty, they could be a misunderstood individual ruthlessly treated by so-called righteous "heroes". The possibilities are endless.

Hero Whumpee: Also a broad archetype, might be a whumpee due to being captured by a foul villain or perhaps they are overworked/badly treated by people from their own organization. In the latter, this could also be paired with a Living Weapon type who is treated as a powerful tool due to their powers rather than a person and treated accordingly, even if "for the greater good".

note: There are also Hero Whumpers, Villain Whumpers, Superhero/Supervillain Whumpers, Vigilante Whumpees, etc. but then we would be here all day

Nonhuman Whumpee: A category that includes a wide range of species; could be fallen angels, vampires being captured by sadistic hunters, horned monsters ostracized from society, good demons hunted by humans and angels alike, etc.

Nonhuman Whumper: Also very broad! Could be a demon or perhaps a vampire, or even an angel that upholds their side's status quo by punishing demons they deem lesser or other angels that are lower in the hierarchy than them. As with hero/villain settings, we could be here all day.

There are also a couple others, but I feel like this is pretty long already! Those can be mixed and matched into an endless number of combinations, and some whumpees/whumpers/caretakers fit into none of these roles. I haven't touched on "team whump" dynamics either but they can also be plenty of fun! If anyone has anything to add on/correct feel free <3 I hope this is helpful! But if you have any further questions I would be thrilled to answer or elaborate :)

[anaceafterdark]

Thank you omg I appreciate this so much

[ozempicofficial]

[unstoppablegrish]

Grish draws blue Hell sunrise again bc fuck you I do what I want 🥰

[anaceafterdark]

Is there any sort of whump terminology list somewhere? Like the more widely used types of whumper/whumpee?