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boop

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being aromantic and into whump is like. shoutout to whump for being a great opportunity to engage with stories about intimacy and vulnerability and powerful emotion and physical interactions with other people and intense relationships that are not presumptively based in romance. what would i do without you.

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Whumpee wakes up, immediately realizing they can't move. They're gagged and blindfolded, their wrist and feet are tightly bound with duct tape.

Whumpee panics, muffling a series of scared noises. No one tells them to be quoit or to stop, so they keep getting more and more frantic-

Finally, a voice speaks in front of them "Don't make me regret not putting you in the trunk.

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He got a new jacket

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hi. non penetrative sex is often more intimate. more on this later

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thinking about unexpected size difference with whumpers and whumpees.

small, petite whumpers with their huge, intimidating whumpees. maybe they're muscular, maybe they're fat, maybe they're both -- either way, they look like they could crush whumpee in between their fingers. and yet here they are, kneeling like a good pet, all decked out in shiny jewels, wearing pretty outfits that show off their hulking bodies.

maybe they're silent in their submission, playing out gruesome fantasies of killing whumper as they let delicate, elegant fingers trace the fresh set of scars on their back. or maybe they're reverent, utterly devoted, vowing to protect this small, fragile thing that causes them so much unimaginable pain.

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Can I request: Whumper-turned-whumpee, but it turns out Whumper is masochistic and that's exactly what they were hoping for?

content: whumper turned whumpee, whumpee turned whumper, masochistic whumper, no holds barred beatdown

Whumper had pushed. And pushed. And pushed. They had pushed until Whumpee thought they couldn’t take it anymore, and then they pushed some more, and more, and more.

And Whumpee snapped.

They yelled. Screamed. Threw around the furniture, hit Whumper in the arm with a vase. They punched them, hard, Whumper even thought their cheekbone might be broken.

They grabbed Whumper by the shirt and threw them to the floor, kicking and kicking and kicking them until their breaths came in wheezes and their ribs cracked under the pressure.

It was everything Whumper had imagined and more. It was everything they’d ever wanted.

“Why can’t you just fucking stop?” Whumpee cried, and Whumper curled up into a tiny ball and waited for more of the assault. “I told you to stop! I asked you, I begged you, and you just had to cross every fucking boundary I had! What is wrong with you?”

“I’m sorry,” they whimpered.

“No, you’re not fucking sorry!” Whumpee kicked them again, and Whumper let out a shuddering breath. “You’re not sorry at all! You enjoy pissing me off, don’t you? You just love to see me fucking riled up!”

Whumper froze.

No.

No, no, no, no.

Whumpee wasn’t supposed to know that. No one was supposed to know that.

Whumper looked up at them, bloodshot eyes wide and frantic, trying to piece together when and how Whumpee might’ve figured it out. “You knew?” they asked timidly.

Whumpee stopped in their tracks. “What?”

Then, maybe even more embarrassingly, Whumper realised: Whumpee hadn’t known. They were just hurling insult after insult at them, and ended up accidentally hitting the bullseye. But now, realisation was dawning on their face.

“Holy shit,” Whumpee breathed. “You actually enjoy this.”

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butch4butch

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multiple anons have asked for bruised knuckles ~  (send me guro requests) - [don’t remove the caption]

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Silas and Wren 2.0 #4

Masterpost

Previous

Next

Warnings: dubcon, strangulation

He bounced on Master’s cock, forcing out a moan as if it felt good. Sweat dripped down his back. 

It was hard work, pleasing his master, but he was good at his job and it would be over soon.

Master’s hand wrapped around his neck, and he flipped them over. He slapped him across the face once, twice.

Master thrust into him, his hand tightening around his neck, and it was fine- masters sometimes liked choking him.

Master fucked into him deeper, and the angle was nearly nice when his hand squeezed again, cutting off his air. It was fine-

Except he didn’t let up.

“Master,” he choked out, “wait!”

Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes.

Master moaned above him, and wrapped his other hand around his neck, pressing him down into the mattress.

“Ple-” black fuzziness swarmed his vision- “ase-!”

He pried at the fingers around his throat, but they only dug in harder.

Master was strangling him-

Master was killing him-

He fought and fought, thrashing and bucking, desperate for air- for Master to get off of him-

But it was useless, his struggle was only making him weaker-

 His body went limp as the life drained out of it.

He’d done his duty perfectly, and death was his reward.

___________________

Wren woke up gasping. He stumbled out of bed to look in the mirror. No angry marks, no bruises, nothing.

He tore off his clothes, standing bare in front of the mirror.

Nothing. 

Despite the ache in his thighs and the struggle to catch his breath, there wasn’t a single mark on him.

Wren picked up his shirt again, but he hesitated.

It had been several days since Master had bought him, and Wren still had not been naked in front of him.

He should have been inspected ages ago.

Wren lingered in front of the mirror. He looked fine. He’d always been average; not tall nor short, with light brown eyes and red-brown hair.

‘Average’ had worked well for him so far, but what if Master didn’t like his body and opted to return him?

Wren shook the thought from his head. No one wanted to fuck a depressed slave. Masters wanted pleasure, and pleasant faces to look at.

He pulled on his clothes, fixed his hair, and headed downstairs. It was just after sunset, and he needed some food in his belly before Master Silas grew hungry.

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“Morning, Wren,” yawned Master Silas.

“Good morning, Master.”

Wren picked at the omelet he had made. It had looked so good in the pan, but he felt hands around his throat every time he swallowed a bite.

“Hey, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing, master. Just tired.”

“Alright.”

Wren jumped when he felt a hand on his shoulder.

“Sorry,” Silas said. “You don’t mind, do you?”

Wren shook his head, sitting stock-still as Master’s hand slid up to his neck.

Wren closed his eyes. Don’t strangle me, don’t strangle me-

But Master only pressed a cool, gentle kiss to his throat before biting down.

It didn’t hurt; in fact it felt nice on the phantom pains that his dream had left behind.

If Master Silas did decide to kill him, Wren would scarcely notice, and that was a blessing.

Warm blood trickled out of the wound, and he could distantly feel the tug of Master drinking. 

Silas’s fingers twitched on the side of his neck, and icy-hot fear shot through him. Please please please no-

Master pulled away, and Wren felt dazed. Dizzy, like the world had decided to spin around him.

“Are you alright?”

Master’s voice was far away.

“Mhm.”

Master Silas pushed his plate towards him. “You should eat more.”

Wren whimpered. He didn’t want to; he’d throw up.

“Wren,” Master said, and the room snapped back into focus.

“Sorry,” he said. “I’m sorry.”

“You need to eat.”

“I- I can’t,” he said, staring down at his plate. The omelet looked back at him. Cold. He wasn’t hungry anymore.

Silas walked away, and Wren’s heart sank. He was surely getting something to punish him with.

“How do you make tea?” Master asked.

“Huh?”

“Tea,” he said again. “What are the steps?” Master Silas opened a cupboard and through his dizziness Wren could see a box of tea on the shelf.

“You- you boil some water.”

Master took the shiny new kettle off the stove, filling it at the sink. He flipped on the burner, the gas light sparking blue flames.

“Then what?”

“You get a mug,” Wren said dumbly, “and put a tea bag in.”

Master pulled a mug down from a shelf and selected a bag.

The kettle started to whistle. It hurt his ears.

“And then you just… pour the water in.”

“Anything else?”

Wren rubbed his eyes. “Some people put in sugar… or lemon…”

He closed his eyes for a moment, and then suddenly a warmth brushed over his hand.

Wren looked down; a mug of warm tea had been shoved in front of him.

“Drink your tea,” said Master, “you look awful.”

“Okay,” he said weakly. He sipped at the mug. It was sweet and lemon-y, and it calmed his anxious throat.

“Better?”

Wren nodded wordlessly. He couldn’t remember the last time he actually had tea. It was a luxury most Masters didn’t give him, but he couldn’t bring himself to really enjoy it.

Master had said he looked awful. Wren closed his eyes before he could start to cry. He had never cried prettily enough; and it certainly wouldn’t help Master’s opinion of him.

“Are you sure you’re alright?”

“It’ll pass,” he choked out. “Please.” Please don’t punish me.

Silas held up his hands. Wren eyed him, exhausted and wary.

“Okay,” he said. “I’ll let you be.”

No, Wren wanted to say, I’ll be good for you; don’t leave!

But the words wouldn’t come.

Master Silas turned and was gone.

And Wren was left all alone with a meal he couldn’t bear to eat and a half-empty mug.

taglist: @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @secretwhumplair @freefallingup13 @mylovelyme @whumpzone @paintedpigeon1 @haro-whumps @whumpthisway @fanastyfinder @extemporary-whump @susiequaz12 @keepingwhumpwiththekardashians @the-cyrulik @morning-star-whump @writereleaserepeat @annablogsposts @tobiaslut @starfields08000 @ghost-whump

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sorry you put your hand on my cheek and I immediately opened my mouth for you to put your thumb in.

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your shape changing partner saying “i hope you can take this” while still inside you, right before shifting into something with a much bigger cock

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anyway i just think we should talk more about how pushy subs can get and how we collectively need to be more mindful of doms’ boundaries. personally i’m a switch and i almost always end up domming bc of how thoroughly bottom-y so much of the queer/t4t dating scene is. like once someone finds out i can dom it’s just expected of me and i’m fucking tired of it, i shouldn’t have to work so hard to make room for the concept that i might wanna sub sometimes too (which pretty much never gets followed up on), but that’s not even the part that bothers me the most

it bothers me that people don’t seem to realize it’s not only on the dom to assert their boundaries, it’s also on the sub to check in sometimes, to read body language, to read tone, to make an effort to cognitively empathize with the dom and what they’re going through bc domming can be really intense, psychologically and physically. i know so many people/posts romanticize the idea of being so deep in subspace that you can’t even think or talk and only the dom has to worry about anything and sure, that can happen w a lot of trust and consent and communication and be a good experience for both parties, but it’s so sinister to me that it seems to be the starting expectation so much of the time. it’s good in fantasy but in reality that is way too fucking much responsibility if you don’t already have well negotiated boundaries and deep trust. imo that expectation should never be the starting point

like sex and kink (can be) deeply intimate and intense things to share with other people and you should give a shit if you’re making someone uncomfortable!! subspace does not free you from the responsibility of how you’re treating the people you’re sharing those intimate dynamic/actions with!! subs should care about their doms’ boundaries and consent!! consent to be put in a dom position should never be assumed!! domming, just like subbing, should be something earned through trust!! i am so fucking tired

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Gold and Green AU | Repost #20

Beneath A Golden (2023)

CW: explicit NSFW, noncon, dubcon, whumper to whumpee, brainwashing, fuck machine, bottoming for the first time

It was beneath a Golden to beg.

But it was also beneath a Golden to be stripped down to nothing, completely bare save for the glowing red ring around his neck.

It was certainly beneath a Golden to be forced into his own Reformation machine. Forced by the ring puppeteering him to move his limbs into position, all for Mavik's sick pleasure. As he sat down, metal clamps locked his limbs into place with a series of sharp clicks, sealing the Golden's fate.

The seat was thrust forward, forcing him to be on his hands and knees, spreading his legs apart. Shame burned under his skin, and something close to fear made his chest tighten, his breath escaping him in short, shallow bursts. Not because he did not know what would happen; Cassius Helven knew exactly what would happen.

"That's a pretty sight," Mavik drawled, their footsteps creeping up behind him. Cassius jolted when a gloved hand smacked his ass, nearly biting his tongue to keep quiet. "You know, as much as I'd love to have such a long, nice-looking cock in my ass, I just love breaking in the Goldens. Always so tight and sensitive."

Cassius heard a switch flip, and the machine turned on.

Greens were raised to give pleasure, and Golds were raised to take and inflict pain. They became hardened with combat, desensitized to fear, fortified by the bonds of kinship they shared. As a Golden, the most superior of Golds, Cassius was used to pain, and could lose a limb in battle without batting an eye. He was used to pleasure as well, from the wet mouths and tight holes of Greens who lived to service him, of his beloved True Green who was taken from him.

This kind of pleasure was unknown to him.

The metal plate that his bare chest was pressed up against started buzzing, creating pleasant vibrations that made Cassius shudder as his nipples hardened. Rather than spear him open, a thin, lubricated rod breached his opening, barely causing any discomfort as it slid deeper inside, save for the disgust clawing at Cassius' throat.

His cock was left hanging between his spread legs, untouched and ignored. But it began to swell against his will when the rod reached his prostate, and Cassius nearly gasped when it started buzzing. He clenched his jaw as it pressed down and started massaging the bundle of nerves, his body twitching as a white-hot sensation shot through his veins, spreading under his flushed skin, making his toes curl and his breath catch.

It felt so good.

"Ooh, that's good," Mavik said, as if reading his mind. They stepped out from behind him to stand in front of him, forcing Cassius to be at eye level with their clothed erection.

It did not stay clothed for long.

The ring forced his mouth to open. He fought against it, trying to use the burning pain in his jaw as a distraction from the heat coiling in his abdomen. But it was a losing battle, and once his lips were pried apart, Mavik cupped his cheek with a condescending smile and thrust their cock inside.

Cassius gagged. But unless he wanted to choke, he had to hollow his cheeks and accept the intrusion, relaxing his throat and blinking harshly to keep his eyes from tearing up.

Crying, like everything else right now, was beneath a Golden.

Mavik sighed blissfully, slowly thrusting in and out until the Golden could take all of them in, their balls touching his chin. "I may need the ring to control you now," they said, tangling their hand in his silky white hair, "but I will not need it forever, little Golden."

Cassius refused to believe that. Mavik would always need the ring, because Cassius would never subject himself to this willingly. He would never submit like the Greens that he brought here for this exact purpose, strapped into the same machines to be taught a lesson. To be reminded of their place.

His place was above a mistake like Mavik. His place was back with Logan, without Derek Bornachi to interfere. Eventually, he would find his way back to it.

Eventually.

---

Mavik looked pleased. Cassius took pride in that; to please his Master was his only purpose in life, now that he was no longer burdened by the responsibilities of being a Golden.

It was a wonderful thing, really. Cassius used to wonder how Master got Golds and Goldens to grovel at their feet and assumed that they just went insane in the Elos ring. But now he knew. They did not lose their sanity; they simply found their freedom.

It was a wonderful thing, really, to not have to decide anything. To have Master decide what you felt, and what you thought, and what you did. How long had it been? How much time had passed where he was just a body to warm Master's bed, a toy for Master's pleasure, a hole for Master and Master's chosen ones to fuck? How long had his mind been melting from pleasure, from praise, from being rewarded just for being an enjoyable fuck? Cassius had no idea, but really, did it matter? Of course not. All that mattered was Master's pleasure.

Master's pleasure was his pleasure.

How long had it been since he last fought back? Gods, he didn't know. He hated to think about it. Hated to think about all of the infuriating times he got so close to escape, only to find out Mavik was toying with him the whole time. All of the times where he was forced to degrade himself, forced to just take it, until it felt pathetic just to resist because there was no point to it.

At some point, he finally realized it would do him no good. The more that he was forced to throw away his pride, the more he just wanted to rid himself of the shame, the disgust, the hatred he had not just for Mavik, but himself.

Because he was weak. So utterly, helplessly, pathetically weak, and the weakest thing about a Golden was their ego.

But if there was no ego--

If there was no self-assured arrogance, no superiority complex holding him to such high standards, no unrealistic expectations that he had to live his life by, always making sure he was above others and in control of himself--

"You've finally earned this, Cassius."

There was no shame.

Master didn't need to use machines anymore. Cassius dropped to his hands and knees willingly, the moment that Master ordered him to. He gasped when Master's cock thrust into him, tears springing to his eyes not out of pain, but pure joy. After all this time, he finally had the honor of Master's cock inside of him. Not just using his mouth, but actually claiming him. Giving him their Blessing.

"What do you say to your Master, hmm?"

"Thank you, Master," Cassius gasped out, a strained cry pulled from him when Master started thrusting, burying their cock deep inside of him. "Thank you, thank you, thank you."

my writing x emmettsin x gold and green au x ko-fi

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i think shame & its manifestations in whump is not talked about enough. like i love when whumpee is physically unable to tell caretaker about all they went through, not only because it is insanely distressing to relive but also because it's humiliating. 'how can someone be so cruel?' is another question, but we're also talking 'how did i let that happen to myself?' from whumpee's perspective. often times post something traumatizing whumpees develop this deep-seated feeling of hopelessness & helplessness & misguided anger which is just in sweet words not cool

because think about it, the whumpee could not stop anything from happening to them. there's always this notion of having to stand up for yourself, but whumpee didn't even get the chance to. who should you be angry at? whumper? the system? yourself?

the fact that it happened is so terribly real and if paired with the conditioning of whumper & possible victim blaming, the shame eventually turns into this twisted form of denial, where whumpee is unable to confront the fact that they were hurt so bad and it just turns into oh my god i hate that it happened to me. i want to erase that it all happened. i wish i could live just one day forgetting it all and wake up thinking what was i so stressed about? i wish i could walk past whumper and think 'who were they again'? nobody should know about this because i cant deal with it myself and i don't know what i'll do if it all goes out

yk what im talking abt?

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his kidnappers weren't expecting the enthusiasm

@darkthingshappen @emmettland

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I just want to be impaled on a huge monster's cock. Their cock is so thick and full of ridges and bumps, it's almost too overstimulating. But they keep saying how good I'm doing for them, what a good little cocksleeve I am. Their claws are almost as big as my waist, they can just use me as a living fleshlight with one single hand. I'm helpless as their enormous and textured cock splits me open over and over again, but oh gods, does it feel good.