I Just Cant Stop Thinking About Hair In Whump Today

I just can’t stop thinking about hair in whump today…

- whumper touching whumpee’s hair, laughing when they pull away from them

- petting whumpee’s hair

- commenting on how absolutely beautiful it is

- traumatic haircuts & shaving whumpee’s head

- braiding whumpee’s hair lovingly, no matter how much whumpee hates it

- restraining whumpee using their hair

- washing blood out of their hair

- grabbing whumpee by the hair

- using their hair to manhandle them

- pulling chunks of whumpee’s hair out

- using whumpee’s hair to hold them in place

- whumper stroking whumpee’s hair after hurting them, continuing until whumpee drifts off into an exhausted/restless sleep

OC Questions

After seeing a lot of the same questions in OC asks, thought I’d write a few of my own lol. Send an emoji and and for which OC:

🩸 - Does your OC believe in blood being thicker than water? (meaning family relationships and loyalties are the most important)

✂️ - What kind of thing would have your OC cut someone out of their life? How likely are they to let someone back in?

🎭 - Does your OC show different sides of themselves to different people?

🩺 - Does your OC accept help easily? Are they willing to admit when they need help?

💡 - How does your OC enact plans? Do they plan down to the smallest details, or do the wing it?

🌋 - What’s your OCs temper like? Are they a slow boil, or an instant explosion?

⏰ - What is your OC like at timekeeping? Are they punctual, or always running late?

🎁 - What kind of gift-giver are they? Do they give thoughtful gifts? Expensive gifts? Practical gifts?

📎 - How organised is your OC? Do they keep on top of responsibilities, or leave things to the last minute?

🧸 - On a scale of 1 - 10, how ‘soft’ is your OC? 1 being the edgiest of edges and 10 being a literal teddy bear that cries at everything? (Bonus questions, where on the scale would your OC place themselves, and where would they like to be on the scale?)

💬 - Is your OC much of a talker? Do they only speak when spoken to? (Or not even then?) Do they ever talk over others?

🌅 - What is your OCs favourite time of day? Are they a morning person or a night owl?

🥦 - Does your OC eat healthily or live off junk food?

🍹 - Does your OC drink? If so, what’s their drink of choice?

🍺 - What kind of drunk are they? (e.g. talkative, sleepy, flirty etc.)

I have realized something today. Something I really didn’t expect.

It’s fairly easy for me to write Whumper related things. Lines, prompts, etc. I know why now. Not because I am the Whumper.

No no.

I want someone to say those words to me. Whispering it in my ear. Hurt me????

I fucking am the Whumpee asdfghjkl.

Yes, I am in dire need of Jesus right now.

Could you another drabble with a masochistic whumpee?

(tw: restraints, masochism/sadism)

“You like this, don’t you? You revel in it.”

Whumpee shot Whumper a dangerous glare, sagging in the chains on the ceiling that held them up. Everything in their face told Whumper no, they don’t like this, they want it to stop.

But their body wanted more, needed more, it was an insatiable thing. Every punch to the gut lit a fire in them, every slap scratched an itch deep down they didn’t know they had. Even Whumper’s degrading words urged them to listen, to want to hear more.

“F…fuck you. Fuck you.” Whumpee wouldn’t give. They knew how obvious it was, how their pathetic body looked in that moment, but they still had their dignity. They wouldn’t let that monster strip that away too.

Whumper took a moment to admire what was in front of them. A doll at their disposal. A face with so much anger despite their body being like a magnetic force to everything Whumper had to give them. Such a beautiful contradiction.

“I know how much you want it,” Whumper drawled. The poor little growl that escaped Whumpee’s lips filled them with even more delight. They picked up the nearest item, they didn’t care to look. Anything would satisfy their needs at this point.

“So why don’t I give it to you?”

4/17 whump prompts *5 sentences* “Now, now pet, behave,” Oliver said, his fingers dug into the vampire’s back as his cohorts milked the vampire of his venom.

CW: Mouth whump, restrained, captivity, pet whump, creepy whumper, intimate whumper

"Now, behave," Oliver said, his voice somewhere between a growl and a purr, his fingers digging like knives into the vampire's shoulders to hold him still.

The vampire boy whimpered, weakly, pink-tinged tears streaming from the corners of his eyes, staining the whites around his green irises, wide open with fear.

He couldn't stop himself from struggling against the cuffs that held his wrists behind his back, he had to do something, to move in some way. The metal ring forced between his teeth kept his mouth open so wide his jaw was nearly cracking, and if he'd had to breathe to live, it would have been difficult to do so comfortably.

Luckily, he was already dead.

Oliver's other hand found its way into his hair, petting gently, a jarring comparison to the violence of his grip.

The man in front of him leaned over, placing a small dish into his open mouth, angled so the lip of one side caught on his bottom teeth and held there. Then he took a small tool like a q-tip and tipped the vampire's chin up, getting a better look with a little flashlight.

"There we go. I see the glands. Hold him."

Oliver's fingers twisted into coppery hair and held fast.

The tool pressed into the venom gland just behind his fangs and the vampire's whimper turned to a whine and then to a high shriek of pain and discomfort, trying to whip his head from side to side, but he was held too tightly to do more than jerk a little, here and there.

The pain was blinding.

His vision went white, as if staring directly into a heatless sun, and he screamed. Pain sparked in the glands and went straight to his brain, down his spine, to the tips of his toes.

His back arched in a perfect bow. He couldn't feel the ache in his scalp from Sir's hands because the pain of everything else simply overwhelmed it.

Finally, the tool finished prodding first one gland and then the other, the little dish was full to brimming of venom, and the man pulled back and away. He poured the venom into a container that he sealed carefully and labeled.

The vampire boy's sobs, muffled and distorted by his forced-open mouth, filled the room.

"There we go, darlin', all done..." Oliver murmured against his ear, his thumb rubbing at the back of the boy's shoulder as if in comfort. "That wasn't so bad, now was it, lovely?"

The vampire shuddered, and sobbed, and Oliver listened to him and gave a soft, affectionate little laugh.

Then he looked up. "Pull his fangs while we've got him open."

The vampire began to struggle again, desperate and mindless, and Oliver's laugh was louder than the sound of the vampire's fear.

hahaa yo so I made a small trash animatic with my spare because I can’t stop listening to “The Torture Tango” from the musical Spies are Forever. I used an excerpt of music from the song that made me think of our community in the best way lol

(there’s a bit of blood and stab in there if anyone doesn’t like that, but it’s pretty cartoonish so-)