I’ve been hanging around the whump community since early 2020, and I think I’m finally ready to take the final step and start posting my own whump content!
Here are some tropes I enjoy and will post about on here:
Defiant whumpees
Lady whump
Intimate whumpers / Carewhumpers
Psychological whump
Drug whump
Masterlist + Other important links under the cut! It was nice meeting you!
Fruit of the Wicked:
A wayward waitress lands in the lap of a notorious serial killer and will do whatever it takes to make it out alive. Here’s the masterlist
Here’s the links to the Pinterest account and the post containing the Spotify playlist as well as a breakdown of it, as well as character references and commissioned art!
Bookish - Prev chapter: Archaic practices - pt 1 here
Healthy consensual sex between enemies in my chapter? Headcanon, au, I don't know what this is, but here we go. Minors shoo.
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“Just this once, okay!” Dani said, again, as Roman was unlocking the door to his bedroom. “And no sneaky business! I still don’t trust you.”
The lock clicked. Roman swung the door open and turned towards her. He held out a hand. “Truce. For now.”
She narrowed her eyes and glanced at his open hand as if it was a trick in itself.
“I won’t hurt you,” Roman said, voice calm and steady. “Unless you’re into that—” Dani snorted. “No funny business and in return you won’t try to knock me out.”
This was such a bad idea, but she’d actually like to feel good for once here instead of only experiencing pain and misery. This didn’t mean anything. It was just a little something to let off some steam. She shook his hand. “Truce. For now.”
He smiled, and for once it wasn’t the devil’s grin that usually adorned his lips. Then he pulled her into the bedroom and lightly spun her towards the bed.
There was a rush in their movements, as if they both either couldn’t wait or were sure that they were going to change their mind on this before they could get the clothes off each other. Roman pulled Dani’s – his – shirt over her head, the only thing she had on and it barely covered her undies, the sight of which had pretty much started this for him. Dani busied herself with the buttons of his shirt, slowly picking her way down under his fond yet hungry gaze and let him handle the rest of the fight with the sleeves as she unbuckled his belt.
She couldn’t resist a peek when he opened the bedside drawer. He searched for a condom; she searched for a weapon. Not for now, they had a truce, just information for later. But there was nothing. No gun. Not even a blade. She stored away the bit of knowledge – that he felt apparently untouchable in his bedroom – and shifted her mindset back.
Roman wrapped his arms around her bare hips, lightly picked her up, and carefully laid her down on the bed.
They didn’t kiss. Though Roman lightly brushed his lips over her skin, over her clavicle, up her neck, exploring her body and his hands roamed up her hips to her waist, hot breath indicating his eagerness.
“Does this count as hate sex?” Dani asked, surprised by the gentle touches.
He exhaled a chuckle and her skin prickled. “No,” he said into the nape of her neck, now slowly making his way down.
“Why not?”
“Because I don’t hate you.”
“Pfff.”
He went further down, lips brushing over her breast, her nipple, finally adding tongue and Dani let out a surprised little moan high in her throat. Spurred on by this, his lips closed around her nipple, one hand cupping her other breast, before he continued his way down. His tongue expertly swirled over her clit and she clenched a fist into the duvet, hissing in a breath.
He wasn’t that interested in sex, he had said. Yet he moved with casual experience and expertly treated all sensitive parts of her body with the respect they deserved. Unlike some of the more welcome bed partners Dani had shared, who were more kind, less sadistic, yet some still had no idea what to do. Maybe, because he was less interested, he focused on his partner’s pleasure more instead of his own? That is… if it didn’t involve pain and being an absolute asshole.
“All these sensitive nerve endings...” he murmured.
“Do not talk science to me right now,” Dani gasped. She let her fingers slide through his hair, her other hand roaming up and down the length of his forearm.
He hummed a teasing laugh. It vibrated right through her and she arched her back and her fingers, clawing over his head.
“You better stop soon…” she said, haltingly, and lightly tugged at his hair.
Another hum, questioning this time.
“Because if I come this fast I’ll kick you off the bed right after…”
That made him resurface and her body relaxed against the mattress. “Fair point.”
He tigered over her, low on his hands and knees, maintaining eye contact and that mischievous soft grin.
She welcomed him. But when the pillow dipped as he rested his hand just next to her head and lightly leaned forward, she startled.
“No,” she merely said.
Roman froze immediately, probably worried she had changed her mind.
But she nudged a hand to the side of his shoulder and the other against the underside of his ribs, slowly tilting him to the side.
He caught on and obediently followed, letting her roll him onto his back, swing a leg over his hips and straddle his waist.
“That’s better,” she said.
The earlier position was a bit too familiar for her taste. It hadn’t been the first time he’d been pressing up against her, or looming over her, caging her, his body a prison. And that usually was a prelude to fighting and pain. She didn’t want to think about that now. And perhaps more urgently, didn’t want him to remember this when he would close her in again in the near future, and risk that he’d start to associate the situation with sex.
This was good, sitting on top of him. A taste of his own medicine and, admittedly, she liked looking down on him. And from the looks of it, he enjoyed looking up at her, gaze roaming over her breasts, fingers fondly caressing.
Her hand found his jaw and with a mere flick of her fingers made him tear his gaze from her breasts.
She sat back and lowered herself to sit on his hips, pressing his cock against his stomach, and she slowly rocked back and forth, teasing him as she rubbed over the head and back down the length.
“Fff—” He tensed then uncoiled, relaxing against the pillow and squeezed his eyes shut, to her amusement.
She traced her fingers up his arm, over the vein crossing his bicep, exploring the dip of his shoulder before gently going around the scar an inch under his collarbone. She really had been close… It matched the one on her shoulder, but his was way more prominent; eye-catching against the tanner surrounding skin, a crater with sharper edges as if it hadn’t healed that well. She wondered if he removed the bullet himself. It wouldn’t surprise her.
It was a little strange, touching him like this; exploring and even admiring the physique that she used to – and would continue to – fight against. He was always unyielding, muscles hard under his skin, pushing back against her, straining, boxing her in and not giving an inch. Now he melted under her touch, bent whichever way she wanted him, and went along with the barest nudge of her fingertips.
He followed her example, exploring her body, her curves, hands never leaving her skin. And his eyes not leaving hers, testing more than just her softness; he checked her responses, if she twitched or winced, if she allowed him to continue.
And she did. Usually, his touches repelled her, made her shudder and twist away. Now they drew her in, his touch adoring and respectful instead of probing and clinical. Even the hand brushing her face now felt warm and genuine instead of mocking.
His hands moved to her waist, fingertips digging in softly as he encouraged her up, wanting her to take him.
Dani muttered a soft expletive as she did. She slowly sank down, savouring that initial sensation, his heat, the stretch as she let him go deeper and she rolled her hips into him. His breath hitched, his fingers trembled against her hips as if he were straining to hold himself back.
She slowly settled into a rhythm, riding him.
“Faster,” he breathed.
Dani hummed. She leaned forward, resting her hands on his abdomen as if bracing herself. But she only slightly picked up the pace.
Roman let his head fall back against the pillow and she could feel every muscle tense and untense again under her fingers as he tried to hold himself back. “How can you even call this hate sex?”
“You said you didn’t hate me.”
“I do now,” he bit off another curse, the remnants whistling between his lips. He lightly bucked his hips up and his fingers now dug into her hips, trying to spur her on. “Let me have my way with you,” he croaked and Dani hummed her disapproval.
“You always do. Now it’s my turn.”
Did hate sex have to be rough? Or was it enough to deprive him of what he wanted so bad right now. If frustration lay at the basis, she could work with that. And it showed wonderfully on his face. He was biting his lip, wincing lightly every time she moved up, as if he were afraid it was the final round and she’d get off him, and closing his eyes as she took him deep again.
When that familiar and all-overwhelming heat started building in her abdomen she started to move faster.
Roman instantly responded, now firmly fucking into her as if he’d finally gotten her permission until—
She came first. And as she clenched around him the pulses of her orgasm sent him over the edge as well.
He shot up, hooked an arm around her waist and pulled her in close, finally bucking up into her in irregular, shuddering thrusts. Lips brushed over her throat and she was sure he could feel her pulse hammering. A low groan echoed in her ear.
Dani tensed, her fingers clawed around his shoulder as he slowly fell back into his pillow, riding out her orgasm – and his – wave by wave until her body turned to goo and she fell forward. She rested against his chest, which rose and fell fast, his breath blew away wisps of hair. Only when his voice actually activated in a final moan and a compliment, did she realise who she was lying on.
She swiftly pushed away, off of him, and rolled over onto the other side of the bed.
“Post sex clarity is a bitch, hm?” Roman chuckled.
“It sure is.”
“It’s the sudden drop of just about every feel good hormone that—”
She reached out, casually let her arm fall to the side, and rested a hand over his mouth. “Don’t ruin it.”
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Hoping there are no minors on this tag list: @firewheeesky @myfriendcallsmeasickwoman19 @whumpawink @painsandconfusion @whumpy-daydreams @whumpyourdamnpears @auroragehenna @alsolucakairomi @suspicious-whumping-egg @whumppmuhw @withdrawingramen @theforeverdyingperson @treasureguardingdragon @theorangestofjuices @chaotic-orphan @artfulbok @ehobep @lolrpop @daggers-and-dangers @yet-how-they-creep @jumpywhumpywriter @whumplicity @whumpasaurus101
What would Jack think of Daniel, Star, and Cam? Would he kidnap/kill any of them? Would he never even talk to them? I would love to know!
Jack doesn’t do men, unless they’ve done something really egregious in his eyes. Or get in his way. So, he probably wouldn’t find the need or want to take or kill any of them!
Convincing you to read my story, Fruit of the Wicked!
Set through June 2015 until October 2016 in the deep American south, Fruit of the Wicked follows a young woman, Sheridan “Dani” Wallis/Wayes through her kidnapping and captivity by “Jack,” a seasoned serial killer with a knack for religious persecution, and his daughter, Sarah. With her only hope at escape being her friend Max, and Jack’s daughter herself, Dani settles down for the traumatic ride of a lifetime.
Below will be listed some themes and tropes present in the story, some overarching content warnings, and where you can read it (spoiler for that part, it’s right on tumblr!) Hope to see you again soon!
Themes and Tropes Present in Fruit of the Wicked:
Fruit of the Wicked, at its core, was written for the whump community, so, expect elements of that throughout the story!
Violence against women, especially through a Christian lens
I don’t feel comfortable calling this a southern gothic story—I am not from the American south—but elements of southern gothic storytelling and the environment itself indicate my love and inspiration for it!
Kidnapping + Captivity
Familial trauma and breaking cycles versus being doomed to repeat them
Isolation and its affects on a person
Hope and despair intertwined (ambiguous ending pending)
And, to top it all off, a final girl
Some content warnings:
Kidnapping + Captivity
Violence against women
Religious violence
Sexual assault and other various non-consensual acts, such as drugging
Assault in general
Various kinds of abuse—domestic, childhood, etcetera
Harm to animals and children (non-descriptive)
Incompetent and harmful law enforcement
Human trafficking
You can read Fruit of the Wicked right here on tumblr, or, if you’d prefer, on Archive of Our Own! Granted, my postings on AO3 are behind, but, I plan on catching up! Promise!
I would really enjoy any reblogs or comments you could throw my way. Reblogs help the story reach others, and comments go into my little comment jar that make me feel super good about myself and my writing. Thank you for reading this! I hope you enjoy the story
Domestic whump but it’s Caretaker seeing Whumper hit Whumpee from a distance. Caretaker isn’t sure if they want to say anything, because the last time they brought up a bruise, they didn’t see Whumpee for a week.
