Pixel or Nick ⢠26 ⢠he/they/lun/luna ⢠Definitely some dead dove don't eat stuff over here! Needed a whump sideblog cuz I don't wanna jumpscare my followers with this stuff on my other blogs lmao ⢠Main blog @fruitypieq
Hello! You can call me Pixel or Nick, welcome to my whump sideblog!
I'm new to actually posting in the whump community and I am nervous but hi :3
Will probably mainly post about noncon/torture whump and other dark themes, so please stay safe! Possibly also some nsfwhump as well so in that case 18+ only please đ
Blog will have a lot of dead dove do not eat type content đ I don't think I care who interacts with me in general, just please be nice :3 You can send me asks!! I would love to hear your ideas or whatever else!
My stuff will simply be tagged with #my stuff but things unrelated to whump will be tagged with just #not whump
Main blog -> @fruitypieq
Other credits ;; For things not made by me, anything uncredited is either by me or credited in the original post where its used
Horror writer Wumpee who enjoys writing about primarily torture/serial killers vs horror fan Whumper who kidnaps Whumpee with the intention of making everything Whumpee wrote happen to them.
Maybe Whumper has even done this before with other horror writers and really enjoys seeing how accurate the writers were able to portray the scenes about to now take place
whumpee and whumper are in an environment where theyâre together often, near constantly. they work together, or live together, or theyâre teammates. and whumpee knows exactly what whumper wants.
itâs not that theyâre being hit on, not really. whumper isnât flirting, isnât making overtures or invitations. itâs more like⌠attempts. itâs harassment and itâs attempts, every time theyâre alone together, or thereâs some reasonable expectation of privacy. whumper grabs for them, tries to pin them down, tries to corner them, goes for their clothes. but itâs always halfhearted. whumper isnât going to fight that hard to get what they want. whumpee is able to fend them off every time.
maybe thatâs why they donât tell anyone. maybe thatâs why they keep it a secret. maybe thereâs another reason - shame or guilt or threats or an existing trauma background telling them this is inevitable. regardless, itâs fine. whumper never gets farther than some groping, and they always give up, annoyed, without things escalating too far.
until whumpee is compromised. they fell asleep somewhere public or theyâre sick or theyâre injured. theyâre weak. and by the time they realize whoâs there with them, whumper is on top of them, pressing them into a couch or a wall or a desk or the floor. they try to fight like they always do, to get away like they always do. but they canât even manage the pathetic self defence that always made it stop before. and then whumperâs fingers are inside them, and itâs going to get worse, and all they can do is stare at the ceiling and suffocate on self hatred. theyâre letting this happen after all.
A completely submissive and terrified whumpee, unless he has someone to protect.
"Please, please, don't hurt them. Take me, please!" He knows it's the right choice, he's used to pain, he can handle it better than them... but he can't help but shaking and step back when Whumper approaches him with a terrible, anticipatory smile.
"Oh?" Whumper raises an eyebrow. "I thought you wanted me to take you? Why are you stepping back?"
Whumpee stands frozen, unable to move out of sheer terror. "I..."
"Okay, guess I'll have to go with my original plan then."
"No!" Whumpee screams, "no take me, please I do want you take me."
This time whumper doesn't move. They just cross their arms in front of them.
"Well," they sneer, "Come here then."
Everything in whumpee is screaming not to move. Having to walk over to whumper willingly is somehow worse then whumper coming to him. His eyes dart around looking for a solution that doesn't exist
"I'm waitinggg," whumper taunts.
Whumpee takes a deep breath and takes a shaky steps forward. And another one. And other one. Until he stands right in front of whumper, shaking like a leaf.
He doesn't dare look up from the ground. It feels like he can't breathe, like there is no air in the room anymore. Even being in whumpers aura is terrifying.
"Good boy," whumper whispered. "Now look up for me, will you?"
Whumpee doesnât want to. He does so anyway.
Two terrified eyes look into the the cold merciless ones of whumper. A hand reaches up to whumpees face and gently brushes a lock of hair to the side. Soft fingers, but to whumpee they might as well be burning. It takes everything inside of him to keep standing, to let this happen, to not step back.
"We're gonna have so much fun," whumper says without breaking eye contact.
The first slap lands hard on whumpees cheek without a warning.
âI'm sorry!â whumpee says, desperately trying to think of what they could have done to deserve this. âI'm sorry, please, I'll be better, please I'm so sorry-â
âHey, no, none of that.â Hands frame their face ever so gently, thumbs brushing the tears away. âYou're doing everything right, sweetie. You're so perfect for me.â
They might not have realised it yet, but whumpee has none nothing wrong. There is nothing to apologise for. There is nothing they can do to make the pain stop.
whumpeeâs life is normal otherwise. or, as normal as itâs ever been. they go about their daily life. they do their job, see their friends, run errands and keep afloat. and then, like clockwork, itâs time to go to whumper - to whumperâs house, or office, or wherever else theyâve arranged to meet.
whumper made them pick the times. whumper made them schedule the appointments like appointments, like this was about taxes or staying up to date on vaccinations. like this wasnât whumper forcing whumpee to choose when they would next be raped.
they donât talk about it outside of the pre-arranged times. whumpee thinks, honestly, that this might be the only thing keeping them above water. if itâs all confined to those times, to those dates and hours, then it canât infect the rest of their life. it canât poison their work or their friends or anything else. they suffer and cry and hurt and then they choose when theyâll be violated next, and doesnât that sort of mean it isnât a violation at all? they stopped begging whumper not to do this a while ago.
itâs not sustainable, though. soon, whumpee starts to crack under the weight of it - whatâs happening to them. the nightmares are getting worse. theyâre flinching constantly. they had a panic attack in a supply closet at work the other day. a friend greeted them with a hug and they nearly threw up, and then nearly cried and clung to them. something is going to break. whumpee is going to break.
they sob harder than ever through the next appointment. they beg whumper to please just let this stop, and itâs the first time in weeks theyâve allowed the word stop to be something real and within their reach. whumper grabs their hair, drags their head down, and shoves the calendar at them.
âthatâs not how this works. you pick or iâll pick for you, and you wonât have time to prepare.â
Whumper's mild voice sends a shiver down their spine. He runs a finger down their back, along one of the worst welts. Whumpee flinches, eyes on the dropped whip.
The mattress dips when Whumper stands up, and still Whumpee doesn't look away.
"I even know you could enjoy this, Whumpee."
He goes around the bed and Whumpee doesn't bother to turn their head and watch, resignedly laying there.
"Found a little something when I went back to clean your place. Do you recognise this?"
Whumpee's eyes flicker towards him. He's holding something, far enough that they have to squint slightly to see. He steps a little closer and Whumpee's confusion only ends when they recognise the writing on the first page. Their eyes go wide and they push themselves up, staring at the stack.
Whumper chuckles, walking slowly toward them.
"You do! That's fun. I only skimmed through it, but I thought it'd be exciting to read it together, hmm? Find out what makes us compatible."
Whumpee shakes their head, tearing up slightly. They try to beg around the gag but Whumper only smiles.
"I'm sure I can help turn some of those maybes into yes."
His finger goes down the page as he searches something. He looks up, still smiling, "Like collars. I'm sure I can help with whatever... apprehensions you had."
He's distracted by something, chuckling lowly as he reads. "I'll even make sure to practice my knots. I can't keep you chained now that I know you like ropes so much."
Whumper shakes their head again, eyes pleading. It's a lost cause, they know, but refusing makes them feel better.
"Aww, don't be shy. I can be accomodating, Whumpee. It's the first time I have someone with the same tastes as me, so I'll make an effort."
He shakes his head softly, amused as he turns the page. Whumpee remembers filling it out, and again, discussing it over and over with their partner. They remember the list's order, and they shake their head again, preemptively. Whumper doesn't look up.
"Oh wow. That's fun- Kneeling is a yes? I'll have to check on your posture, then." He sends them another smile, almost teasing this time, and Whumpee feels sick, swallowing convulsively.
"Hmmm... Begging, I've seen already. Following orders.... that I haven't seen yet, but I think we're getting there. Bit of a brat, aren't you?"
Whumpee feels anger just long enough to look up at Whumper. It curdles into more shame and they try to curl on themselves - a reminder that it's a bad idea to pull on their back.
"Oooo, pet names?" He looks up at them, eyes glinting with perverse excitement. "You enjoy those, sweetheart?" He reads the note that Whumpee know is written in the corner and his voice is dripping with mirth as he adds, "Or is puppy better?"
Whumpee can stop neither the flinch nor the wince that ensues.
"Aww. That's so cute, honey. I'll try to remember for you."
He turns the page and quickly skims through the next, skipping it. He sends a wink towards Whumpee, "Don't need a list to know how to take care of you, darling."
Whumpee shudders.
He's much slower on the next page, reading almost line by line.
"Slapping is a yes? Huh."
Whumper moves the list to his other hand, looking up. He moves his wrist quickly, up and then in a swift arc towards Whumpee. It's harsh, striking the nose more than the cheek. Whumpee's head is forced to the side so fast they hear a crack in their neck - a twinge of pain that doesn't even register as they drop back on the bed.
"Like this? Did you enjoy that, kitten? "
Whumpee's whimper doesn't seem to register as Whumper goes back to the list. He doesn't comment for a while and all Whumpee can hear is the crinkling of paper and the sounds they make as they swallow around the gag.
A bark of laughter breaks the silence, so mean and mocking it would have made Whumpee flinch even in another context.
"You have gag preferences?"
Whumpee closes their eyes, which does absolutely nothing to stop them from listening to Whumper's mocking.
"I'm sorry, darling, I just really needed you to be quiet. I'll use one you like next time."
He continues reading, snickering when he reaches the next section. Whumpee turns to the side, looking away. Shame doesn't register anymore, so there's only something vaguely shaped like betrayal. Something so personal being turned against them again and again.
"We won't be doing any roleplay for now but the notes you wrote are so detailed..." They keep their eyes on the wall, away from Whumper.
"Maybe in the future, when we know more about each other. We'll need a lot of trust."
The last page he barely skims. "No room in the budget to get more toys, darling. You're already quite expensive."
His voice makes it sound like a joke. Whumpee hears him take a few steps to set down the list and then he's back on the bed, sitting near their back. There's nothing they could do to stop themselves from tensing, and even less to stop the flinch when he grabs their shoulder.
He turns them towards him. It takes merely an instant but it forces Whumpee's back into the mattress and they scream into the gag, tearing up.
Whumpee finishes the roll to get onto their stomach before awkwardly pushing themselves up. Whumper is watching when they look up, a soft smile on his face.
He reaches for the gag, ignoring Whumpee's sudden tensing and leaning away. Their jaw aches and they stay quiet, trying to catch their breath.
Whumper leans forward slightly, reaching for Whumpee's chin. He's the gentlest he's ever been as he tilts their head up, expression almost soft.
Then his mouth is on Whumpee, hot and wet and invasive. It's not a sweet kiss; teeth digging into skin, tongue violently exploring their mouth, Whumper's hand tight on their chin.
Whumper moans loudly, pulling away just enough that they can both catch their mouth. He wipes his mouth and chuckles, watching Whumpee pant and choke on the lungfuls of air they're trying to take.
"I'm really glad we had this conversation, sweetheart. I'm sure it'll help both of use enjoy ourselves much more."
Whumper who's jealous of the other people Whumpee has had sex with and hates seeing them with hickeys or other marks, so they corner Whumpee and give them a choice: either Whumper will cut (...or bite) all of the marks out now, or Whumpee will let Whumper assault them. Either way, Whumper will stake their claim on Whumpee's body in a way they'll remember for the rest of their life.
whumpee's back presses into the walls. whumper is so close in front of them, and it feels like there's no room for them to breathe. all of the air has been sucked away. it's like the only thing that exists anymore is whumper.
whumper slides the sharp fabric shears up the front of their shirt. the metal is cold against their skin and they flinch. the air makes their skin prickle. the marks of the sex they'd had the night before - good, consensual, wanted sex - are exposed. whumper's breathing gets hard and heavy. their hand smacks into the wall beside whumpee's head, and whumpee jolts, choking on a sharp, shocked sound.
they're offered the choice - i'll cut those out of you, or i'll cover them with my own.
it's hardly a choice at all. still, though, as whumper's mouth closes over the marks that they had received in such a similar but impossibly different way not all that long ago. they try to think about the friend that they had fallen into bed with, giggling and moaning, the night before, anything to get away from what's happening.
the guilt of trying to think about their friend in such an awful moment, though, feels like it's eating whumpee alive. they can't think about that. it's wrong to think about that. dirty. awful. like they're bringing that person, that safe person who they care about, into this awful hell.
god, they had liked those marks before, too. they had seen them this morning and sent a picture to the friend they'd hooked up with, amused and cheeky. they don't know how they'll ever be able to stand to let anyone give them a hickey again. they don't know how they'll ever be able to stand to let anyone see their bare skin again.
especially if the tone is the same. it's still not overtly physically violent. it's gentle. it's soft. it's horrific. whumper is begging like they're a lovestruck lead in a drama movie adapted from a nicholas sparkes novel. professing their love. it's wrought, it's intense. whumper sounds like they're baring their raw heart and every time whumpee tries to say no, tries to get out of it, tries to make it stop, whumper sounds dangerously close to crying.
"i need you," whumper all-but-whimpers into whumpee's throat. "i need you to be mine. i need to hear you say it, i need to believe it. please. i need you. i love you.
whumpee's skin is crawling. they can barely breathe. they don't feel like their body belongs to them. the thought almost makes them laugh. it feels disturbingly literal.
"i'm yours," they choke out.
whumper's mouth is over theirs - frantic, hot kisses that taste like salt. whumpee can't tell which of them is crying.
"you're mine," whumper murmurs against their mouth. "you promised. mine."
Whumper saying âyouâre mineâ while raping Whumpee is great, but what about Whumper saying âIâm yoursâ
god yeah there's a lot going on here, huh
the way that the rape is framed as an act of devotion, and act of service. the way confusion mixes with fear, and how whumpee wonders if they did something to cause this. did they make it seem like they wanted it?
they were getting close, sure. whumper was starting to be one of their better friends, someone they'd started to trust, to be vulnerable with, to share affection with. but whumpee hadn't- had they?
"i-" whumpee tries, and their voice catches in their dry throat.
whumper is on top of them. their hands are hot and gentle and relentless. whumpee is trembling.
"you're so nervous," whumper says against the skin of whumpee's neck. whumpee tries to push them off, but whumper catches their wrist, pinning it easily to the mattress. "it's okay. this'll be so good. we'll be together. i'm yours. just yours. i'll make you feel so good, baby. i'm yours."
Whumpee is given the task to write down a list of positive qualities about themselves and end up just staring at the blank page for hours.
Or maybe they come up with some depressing, whump filled bullet points:
Don't eat much
Don't need much sleep
Can take a beating without making much noise
Don't complain
Good at first-aid
Can sleep anywhere
Know how to work around injuries while healing
Always try to follow orders
Add yours in the comments!!
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