@boneywhump / boneywhump.tumblr.com
happy new year! going to open these up again :D
pick a character and a pose and i'll tie them up for you~ if you're interested, please DM me and i'll send you a form to fill out! turnaround time will be 2-3 weeks.
✅ will draw:
❌ not this time:
🔞you must be 18+ to comm
thank you! ❤
pov: your future husband comes to your rescue
One word prompt: silence? :)
The whumper strapped the muzzle over the whumpee’s face even as the whumpee tried to yank their face away. The smell of varnished leather assaulted their nose as the whumper fastened the straps over their mouth and nose. leather straps were looped around the back of their neck. Strands of hair were pulled from their roots as straps were wrapped roughly around their head. The whumper yanked, buckling the muzzle tight. The pressure cut long lines into the whumpee’s face that they knew would leave a mark. he whumpee whimpered softly, jaw locked shut tight. They reached up to relieve the pressure, but the whumper caught their wrists.
“No,” they said. “Touch it and I’ll know.” They pushed the whumpee’s hands into their lap and ran their hands over the muzzle. “Marvellous,” they murmured.
The whumpee flinched away, breathing heavily through their nose. The hands on their face gripped tighter. “Don’t turn away now, you look so lovely now that you’re finally silent.”
“Right this way, sirs.”
Light flooded the large room when the door opened, and two strangers entered, followed by the slaver. Chains clattered in the room as the captives fought to free themselves, some snarling, others just glaring.
“We have a wide variety of slaves to choose from. The orcs and gnolls are particularly useful for your type of work.”
“Not necessary this time.” One man said with a dismissive wave. “We’re looking for cleaning slaves. Ones who can get into small areas and won’t make much fuss.”
The other man had taken to wandering about the room, looking into each cell. He was met with cursing and threats and snarls in most, until he came up to a large cell that almost appeared empty, except for a soft rattling of chains from the far corner.
The elf was small and thin. Unlike every other creature in the room, he wasn’t fighting the chains, he was trembling in them, terrified. His blue eyes grew wide as the man walked closer, and he cowered back with a whimper. His ears drooped, pulling some hair away from his face to reveal a mark over his eye and cheek. A noble tradition in most Elven clans. The boy must’ve been royalty.
“What’s the story with this one?”
The slaver turned and grinned. “Ah, this little elf is an interesting case. He’s from a royal family somewhere in the Northern woods.”
The first man peered at the elf before turning back to the slaver. “Did you capture him yourself?”
With a shake of his head, the man grinned. “That’s the interesting part. His family sold him to me. Disgraced little prince, I suppose. They didn’t tell me what he did and I didn’t ask.”
As they talked amongst themselves, the elf pulled his knees to his chest, tears slipping down his face. He was scared… so scared.
“We’ll take him.”
The team finding the whumpee connected to machines and tubes, and being too afraid to get them out in case it’s something important.
A whumpee chooses to take the torture in order to spare the one they love, despite the lover’s protests. But over the course of the torture, they feel broken down, used up, unworthy.
And they think, what a great irony, the only way to save their love is to become no better than dirt under their lover’s shoe.
But they don’t regret the choice at all.
{Characters: Whumpee (they/them), Lover (he/him), Whumper (he/him)}
Whumpee let out a cry of pain as the whumper dumped them in the cell which contained lover, leaving them with a kick and a laugh; no backward glance as lover scrambled to reach them.
Whumpee, seeing lover coming towards them through one eye, because the other was swollen shut, quickly tried to crawl backwards and away from him, their heart sinking a little inexplicably as lover stilled immediately.
"[Whumpee], I... I'm not going to hurt you," he whispered softly, brokenly, taking another step forward and crouching down.
He startled when whumper let out a shriek and said, "No! Don't touch me! D-don't t-touch me, I d-don't des-" but before they could finish, they dissolved into painful sounding racking coughs, blood speckling the front of their torn, ragged shirt.
Loosing all cautiousness, lover jumped forward and took whumpee in his arms, cradling them carefully and running his hands through their hair as whumper sobbed and moaned, "No... No, no, no, no, no, no... n-not supposed... to..."
"I'm so so sorry, [Whumpee], I'm so sorry, please forgive me," lover choked out, tears streaming down his face as he leaned down to kiss whumpee's forehead, but when they realized what lover intended to do, they were horrified. They didn't deserve it.
But God, did they want it.
With their last shreds of will, whumpee managed to turn his head away, not properly taking the kiss from the person they still loved.
The stricken, hurt look in his eyes made them wonder if it was worth it, but they knew they didn't deserve it.
And the fact that lover didn't have any injuries on his body made every single injury on their body worth it, along with every missed comfort.
You. You get it. That’s exactly what I’m talking about.
“Your scars…” the villain breathed, tracing a finger down the rough lines that stretched across the hero’s back. “They’re beautiful.”
The hero shuddered at the touch, bile rising in their throat at the look in the villain’s eyes—infatuation, greed, desire.
“You did this to me,” the hero whispered, teeth gritted, eyes squeezed shut against the sickness rising in their stomach.
“Yes, well,” the villain sighed. “I guess I should take some credit for my masterpiece, no?”
The hero’s hands twitched in anger, held down by the heavy chains that had left their own set of scars around the hero’s wrists. They were completely, utterly defenseless, at the mercy of the villain—the thought sent a shiver down their spine.
“You’re a monster.”
The villain let out a breath, running a finger down the hero’s cheek, feeling the lines they had cut there over and over and over again. “Oh, darling,” the villain purred, a cruel, wicked smile stretching across their lips.
“Do you really think I care?
Intro and scene-setting under the cut!
(oh, and, um, @wildfaewhump - a few months ago I messaged you and said your work made me want to write a winged person myself? Well, here he is)
The wind ruffled through Aedan’s hair, none too gently. He pinned an arm over the book in his lap, to stop the page he was reading from flapping about. It was in the humans’ language; but Aedan was used to that, most books were, that was how he’d gotten so good at it.
The sky stretched blue and cloud-studded all around him. The sun was nice, and he spread his wings slightly, to better allow his broad brown feathers to soak up the warmth.
Consider a whumpee who’s been touch starved all their life:
They flinch the first time the caretaker touches them, not used to others offering comfort. When the caretaker pulls away, afraid that they’ve hurt the whumpee, all the whumpee feels is the cold spot where the hand once was.
The next time the caretaker touches them, they manage not to flinch so violently. A brush of fingertips up and down the arm. It’s more than the whumpee could ever imagine, and they almost feel foolish for needing this simple contact so much.
The whumpee doesn’t know how to ask for a hug. They just kind of lean against the caretaker’s shoulder and hope they understand. They don’t want to inconvenience the caretaker, or to ask for something they aren’t willing to give. The caretaker wraps an arm around the whumpee’s shoulders and nuzzles into the side of their head, and for a moment, the whumpee feels safe.
The whumper catching on to the fact that the whumpee is touched starved, and using it to their advantage.
The whumper brushes their fingers through the whumpee’s hair, down the back of their neck, and every muscle in the whumpee’s body is braced for a pain that doesn’t come. With time and patience, the whumper gets the whumpee to unwillingly relax into the touch.
The whumper manipulating the whumpee into doing thing for them with soft hands and warm embraces. They nuzzle into the top of their head like the caretaker does, and as afraid as the whumpee is, they can’t bring themself to move away.
Ch 1: pg. 4 - 7 (first) (next later)
Desperate, lonely whumpers who are really clingy towards the whumpee?
Yesss, ok! Flip the script, I like it!
Warning: restraints, non consensual cuddling/kissing (NOT sexual, I don’t write that stuff.)
“I don’t know what I would do without you.” The whumper spoke, as they ran their fingers through the whumpees hair. The whumpee didn’t answer, they had learned by now that the whumper didn’t expect them too.
“I love you so much. My precious little pet.” The whumpee tried not to stiffen as the whumper hugged them closer. The whumpee’s arms ached, they had been tied together for so long. At least they were on the couch now, and not locked away like they were whenever the whumper was mad at them.
“You’re mine,” The whumper continued. The petting stopped, and the whumper took the whumpee’s chin in their hand, forcing them to look up at them. The whumpee repressed a shudder. They hated this. They hated the vulnerability, they hated the whumper touching them so gently like they didn’t use them as a punching bag whenever they wanted. “You know you’re mine, right?” The whumpee nodded, knowing what would happen if they refuted these claims. “Say it. Say you’re mine.”
“I’m yours.” The whumpee replied, monotone. They knew what was coming, they knew what to say. They tried not to believe it, but it was hard.
“Say I’m the best thing that ever happened to you. And sound happy.” The whumper’s voice became sharper. “You love me. I, I need you to love me. So say it. Tell me how much you love me.” The ‘or else’ went unstated. The whumpee’s heartbeat started to race. They had to do this well, or face the consequences later.
“I-I love you, so much. You are wonderful. Without you, I a-am nothing. I’ll be with you forever. I am yours.” The whumpee tried to put feeling into it, but they weren’t a good liar at the best of times, and the threat looming over them, the pain that would ensue, made them struggle. They had been hurt before.
They knew they weren’t good enough as the whumper’s face fell. They started to panic, they failed. They had to do something. They steeled themselves, and leaned up, planting a kiss on the whumper’s cheek. Their stomach twisted. They felt like they were going to throw up. They hated they had to pretend affection, just to ward off pain. They were disgusted with themself, and even more disgusted as they felt proud when the whumper’s face lit up.
“My darling! So cute! You’re being so good today.” They pulled the whumpee closer. “Mmm, you’ll never leave me. We’ll be together, you and I, for a very long time.” The whumpee leaned into the touch. At least it was better than being hurt.
Right?
In their team, everyone else believes that [Whumpee] will most likely betray, or at best abandon, them. It might be because [Whumpee] belongs to a minority/has a power that the team won’t trust, has some emotional ties to the villains the team is fighting, or is a child of a former villain. It doesn’t help that [Whumpee] doesn’t know how to connect with their teammates, coming of as brusque or distant, never joining in their bondings because they always feel unwelcome and are afraid of crossing boundaries.
When [Whumpee] goes missing one day, the team assume that they leave and don’t even try to look for them. The team are wary that [Whumpee] will betray them and reveal their secrets. But a year passes and no danger happens, and the team forget about them. A new hero moves into their room, someone who is charming and friendly, whom the team trusts and adores. [Whumpee]’s room is sparsely decorated, so the meager belongings they leave behind are thrown into the attic/basement, fitting inside a small dusty duffle bag.
A year after their disappearance, the team finally find the villains’ headquarter and storms the building. When they check the dungeon where the villains keep their hostage, they find in the last cell, slumped against the corner, [Whumpee]. They were so thin and weak, the villains didn’t even bother to shackle them. They don’t move when the door to their cell opens, but they do press themself closer to the wall when footsteps draw near, fingers trying, and failing, to grip onto the smooth stones behind their back.
It is clear that [Whumpee] has been captured since the day they disappear, and despite being tortured, they have never betrayed the team and have suffered greatly for their loyalty.
The whumpee sleeps on the floor of the whumper’s bedroom, chained to a leg of the bed after their latest failed escape attempt.
can you do one where Villain slowly falls in love with hero but must stop his romantic rival other villain who is obsessed and stalks hero? I love your work you're so talented i just mmmm
Thank you! ^_^. I hope you like this. I’ve another love triangley thing going on over here with a continuation here too.
A little warning that Other Villain is very creepy in this one, in case you don’t like that sort of thing.
“Look, I know we aren’t exactly friends and I’m no angel, but for hell’s sake, take this. Call me on that number if they come back around creeping you out again, okay?” Villain said to Hero, holding out a piece of paper with their number on it.
For a moment, Hero didn’t budge from the doorway of the house, but slowly they reached out for it. “Thank you,” they murmured.
Villain cocked their head. “Are you sure you’re alright? You’ve been shaken up really bad… I can stay tonight if you like?”
Hero shook their head and said quietly. “I mean, it’s not every day you almost get kidnapped, but I’ll be fine. I’ve got a baseball bat if anything happens.”
Villain sighed, “Alright. Text me in the morning, just so I know you’re okay. You don’t deserve this crap.”
Hero ducked their head and nodded. Villain took it as a signal to leave. “Thank you again, for stopping them shoving me in that van. If you hadn’t-”
“I know. It’s okay, [Hero]. You’ve helped me out plenty of times.”
An awkward smile and the door shut, Villain heard it lock, then the little jingle of a chain, a bolt slid across- two of them. Hero was taking no chances.
Villain walked away slowly, reaching in their pocket for their phone. They called up their lead henchmen. “Orders, Boss?”
“Have the others find [Other Villain], I want them to call me if they see them and then beat them toward an inch of their life. Tell them if they don’t leave [Hero] alone, next time I will finish the job.”
“Understood. You want me to have some men watch [Hero’s] place?”
“You and me tonight. There’s a motel opposite we can use. I’ll text you the room number.”
The room Villain was given wasn’t perfect. They were beneath Hero’s room and off to the side, but they were close if Hero needed them and they could watch the balcony for them, or rather the surrounding balconies if anyone climbed across. Villain hoped it would be enough to keep them safe. Other Villain was really something else, they’d been obsessed with Hero for years now. It hadn’t been so bad at first, Hero had told them, but now it was unbearable.
A few hours passed and once Henchman and Villain had eaten, Villain took first watch. There was no sign of any danger, but Villain wished they’d been able to stay with them. They wanted to protect them, and they were kind company, such a nice face and a nicer personality. They were, well, they were wonderful…
A buzz rang out across the silent room. A text. Villain snatched up the phone at once.
They’re at the door. I’ve locked myself in the bathroom. Please hurry
“Up!” Villain shouted to Henchman. They jolted awake and sat up. They followed Villain out as they rushed across the main road and up to the apartments.
When they got to Hero’s door, no one was there. Villain knocked on the door, “[Hero],” they panted. “Hey, you there? It’s okay, they’re not here.”
Only the silence replied. Villain frowned and tried the door, much to their dismay, it opened.
“[Hero]?” they called loudly. Henchman took out their handgun. Villain reached on their belt for their knife.
“Be careful,” Villain murmured to Henchman. God, they didn’t want them panicking and accidentally shooting Hero.
Villain shoved the door open wider and stepped inside, only to freeze after a few steps. Other Villain was standing in the middle of the room with Hero wrapped in their arms, a knife pressing against their throat. So much as a twitch was sure to draw blood. Old tears had dried on Hero’s cheeks, but as they closed their eyes tight, another droplet escaped. Their hands were latched onto Other Villain’s and they were shaking terribly.
“I’m sorry,” they whispered, “They were too strong-” Hero whispered. Other Villain silenced them with a harsh yank upwards, drawing a small line of blood.
“It’s okay, [Hero]. Keep still for me,” Villain said gently.
“How did you get in?” Henchman asked with an arched eyebrow.
“Well, you should have checked over their apartment for them before you left.”
They’d been in the apartment all this time?! No wonder Hero looked so terrified and hurt. Other Villain must have been hitting them.
“You drew me here, so what do you want?” Villain asked.
“Hero is mine, not yours! Yes, I know the way you look at them with that filthy gaze of yours. You think sending all your little toy soldiers out looking for me is gonna stop me? No, we leave tonight and we’re going to get married. Then we can be together forever,” Other Villain declared. “Only I am good enough for my dearest [Hero]- I know what’s best for them.” Hero mewled in fear, unable to do anything.
Villain tensed their jaw. “Hard to marry someone if you’ve killed them. Get that damned knife away from their throat. Prove you care about them and stop scaring them like that.” A throat Villain noticed was dark with bruises. Hero must have taken a hell of a beating to subdue them.
“No!” Other Villain snapped. “If I can’t have them no one can! Now I want you to watch me walk away with them this time. Now,” they grabbed Hero by the hair and settled the blade well against the artery in Hero’s neck. “Step aside, or things are going to get sticky.”
When you leave your whumpee with people that could untie him but the knots are too tight and no one has a knife.
A prompt that I’ve wanted to write since FOREVER but never got around to it:
A character, maybe a spy or official, has been taken in by the enemy and is being interrogated, but they’re defiant as hell and won’t give up anything. Conditions get bad: rough treatment, no sleep, brutal beatings. But they still hold strong. So the interrogator/whumper tries a new tactic. They send in a caretaker.
The caretaker sneaks in at night or after a particularly harsh session and brings the whumpee food. Tends to their wounds. Touches gently and speaks softly. Says they could get in a lot of trouble for this, but they can’t stand to see whumpee being treated so poorly.
Little by little, the whumpee begins to trust them.
But they have no idea the ‘caretaker’ is only doing it on the whumper’s orders.
