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promptsforyourwhumpfic · 5 months

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The Grand A-Z List of Whump 2/3

This list contains ~174 items listed I to Q

As always, I heavily encourage people to research topics thoroughly when writing. Whump is generally a 'dead dove' sort of topic, however it is important to avoid stereotypes/misinformation. This lists intention is to not glorify/romanticise sensitive topics in any way.

This is a comprehensive list of injuries, Illnesses and tropes - including those from the Whumptober 2023 trope vote!

All submissions are listed in italics, and those who wanted to be tagged will be included at the end. If you have any more submissions: please send them via DM/my ask box.

[A-H] [R-Z] [NSFW List]

List below the cut:

ICU

Identity reveal

Ignorance is Bliss

Ignoring an Injury

Immersion foot syndromes (Prolonged exposure to damp and cold)

Immobilization

Immortal healed wrong

Immunodeficiency

Impalement

Improvised medicine/treatment

Indigestion

Infected (Blood, Wound, Tattoo etc)

Infested

Injured caretaker carrying an even more injured whumpee.

Injured whumpee instructs caretaker how to treat them.

Injury Discovery

Injury Revelation

Insecurity

Insomnia

Insults

Internal Bleeding

Interrogation

Interventions

Intimate whumper

Intubation

Involuntary whumper

Isolation

Isolation/Quarantine

Itching

Jailed

Jamais vu (The experience of being unfamiliar with a person or situation that is actually very familiar.)

Jealousy

Jet Lag

Jumping (to safety, forced to jump)

Just dying in general.

Keeping quiet because the enemy is nearby

Keeping the whumpee awake

Ketosis (body burning fat for energy)

Kidnapped by the opposing team

Kidnapping

Kidney Stones

Killed! (Again and again and again for the lovely immortal whumpees<;3)

Kneeling

Knife through hand and into wall/floor

Knocked Out

Lab Rat

Laryngitis

Late realisation

Left for dead

Leprosy

Lichenberg scars/Lightning strike

Limited Medical Supplies

Live-Streamed/Broadcast torture

Lobotomy

Locked Up and Left Behind

Losing a Bet

Loss of appetite

Loss of reality

Lost (In the woods, city etc)

Lost voice

Low Blood Pressure

Lumbago (lower back pain)

Lupus

Lured into a trap

Lying

Lyme's disease

Lymphoma

Magical exhaustion

Magical healing

Magic whump (using spells to harm someone)

Manhandling

Major Character Death

Makeshift Splints

Malaria

Malnutrition

Manhandling

Mauled

Measles

Medical trauma

Medieval Torture

Memory Loss

Meningitis

Menstrual Cramps

Mental illness after being kidnapping (and addressing it)

Migraine

Military lovers

Military whump

Mind control/Manipulation

Miscommunication

Missing

Missing Person

Mistaken Identity

Misunderstanding

Mono

Mopping a sweaty brow with a cool cloth

Mudslides

Muffled Scream

Mugging

Multiple Sclerosis

Multiple Whumpees

Multiple Whumpers

Mumps

Muscular Atrophy

Mute

Muzzled

Nailed to a wall or floor

Nails digging into palms

Nail marks left in the whumpees skin

Natural Disasters

Nausea

Near-Death Experience

Necrosis

Neglect

Nerve damage

Nerve pain

Nightmares

No anesthesia

No goodbyes

Non-responsiveness

Nonhuman whumpee

Not allowed to die

Not Realizing They’re Injured

Nowhere else to go

Noxious (gas/fumes)

Numb

Numbness/Paralysis

Obsession (with finishing the mission, the whumper obsessed with the whumpee etc)

Open Fracture

Orthostatic hypotension (low blood pressure when standing)

Osteogenesis Imperfecta (brittle bone disease)

Outnumbered

Overdose

Overworked

Oxygen Deprivation

Oxygen Mask

Packing a wound

Panic attacks

Paralysis (this could be temporary or permanent)

Paranoia

Parent caring for sick child

Parkinson's

Passing out from pain

Passing out in arms

Permanent injuries that affect them long term

Phantom pain

Phobias (could lead to character stumbling and hurting themselves in an attempt to escape their fear)

Photographs/Polaroids ( Especially if they're of the kidnapped whumpee)

Physical Therapy

Piercing ripped out

Pinched nerve

Pinned Down/To The Wall

Plague

PMS

Pneumonia

Pneumothorax

Poisoning

Polio

Possession/possession recovery

Post-exertional malaise

Post-ictal confusion/any other symptoms (after a seizure)

POTS (Postural Orthostatic Tachycardia Syndrome)

Power Fatigue

Praise (especially if it's from the whumper)

Pregnancy (morning sickness, self-conscious, hot flushes, tired and sleepy, general malaise, swollen feet, weird cravings...)

Presumed dead

Prisoner Exchange

Protecting friend from the whumpees own team (bonus points if doing it while injured)

Psychological Torture

Psychological Whump

Psychosis

PTSD

Pulled Muscles

Puncture Wounds

Q-Fever

TAG LIST: Thank you very much to the following people for submitting ideas! (I apologise if some tags did not work, I'm not sure why tumblrs not letting me tag you!)

#whump #a-z list of whump #long post #extra long post #death tw #ptsd tw #illness tw #injury tw #angst #writing #prompts #whumpblr #a-z #a-z of whump #i-q

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emmettland · 5 days

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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.

#whumplr #emmett whumps #whump tag #perhaps i am thinking of Whumper Logan and Whumpee Derek...perhaps.

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whump-and-other-misfortunes · 3 months

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Whumpuary 2024 Day 12

12. (Jan 23-24) "You're awake" / Rescue / Unfair Fight

cw physical whump/injury, captive whumpee, intimate whumper, suggestive, mention of starvation, emeto, beating, choking

“You want me to do what?”

“Hit me,” Whumper said with a smirk. “Go on, I know you want to.”

Whumpee shivered, remembering the last time they had tried to fight back against Whumper. Their stomach turned at the memory of how easily Whumper had gotten them under control—beaten them senseless until Whumpee was a crying, shaking mess. And that had been back when Whumper had first taken them. When Whumpee still had their strength, mentally and physically. They couldn’t imagine how much worse they’d fair now in a fight against their captor.

“What are you waiting for?” Whumper asked, closing the space between them. They looked down at Whumpee with amusement. “Ah...are you scared of what I’ll do to you, honey?”

“Please, I don’t...” Whumpee tried to step away, but their back hit the wall behind them. “I can’t. I don’t want to.”

Whumper nodded in mock sympathy. “I know you don’t.” They grabbed one of Whumpee’s wrists and held it up roughly. “Look how frail you’ve gotten, darling. I doubt you could even hit me very hard...”

When they blinked, the tears began to spill from Whumpee’s eyes. “P-Please, don’t make me do this, you know I—”

Whumper silenced them with a kiss, their other hand grabbing onto Whumpee’s hair and holding them in place as they squirmed. Pulling back, Whumper said, “I know. You’re scared of trying to take me in a fight. But don’t forget what happens when you disobey me. I promise, it will be much worse than a beating.”

Whumpee’s breath caught on a sob, and Whumper took a step back. They towered over Whumpee, tall and muscular, with strong arms that could easily break them. Whumpee felt dizzy, hands trembling where they clenched into fists at their sides.

“Come on,” Whumper said with a laugh. “Let’s see what you’ve got. If you impress me, maybe I'll try not to make you bleed.”

Whumpee had to stand on their tiptoes in order to reach Whumper. They hissed in pain when their fist landed wrong, barely drawing a reaction from Whumper but leaving their knuckles sore. They didn’t know how to fight, they didn’t know how to throw a punch, but that didn’t matter. Whumper didn’t want a fair fight—they wanted to humiliate Whumpee, and they wanted an excuse to hurt them back.

“Is that all you’ve got?” Whumper taunted as their captive cradled their hand against their chest. “Aw, now don’t give me those pathetic eyes, honey. You look absolutely miserable.”

“Please...” Whumpee tried again. But that word was as far as they got before Whumper’s fist connected with their face hard enough to knock them back into the wall. Whumpee groaned in pain, trying to stay on their feet.

Whumper grabbed their wrists and pinned them above Whumpee’s head, able to hold both in one hand. “Have I not been feeding you enough? Seems like you’ve gotten thinner since the last time we did this. Weaker.” Their other hand curled around Whumpee’s throat, strong fingers cutting off their air with ease. “Yeah, look at that. You used to be able to struggle more.”

They were right. Whumpee thrashed against their hold, but it didn’t do any good at all. Whumper had broken them down so much they didn’t have the strength to fight back. The hand on their neck pulled Whumpee forward before slamming them back into the wall. Whumpee’s vision blacked out when their head hit the concrete, and their lungs burned with each gasping breath as they crumpled to the ground.

“Fucking pathetic.” Whumper said it almost fondly, kicking Whumpee in the stomach. “I won’t lie, I’ve missed this. You’ve been so good for me lately, I haven’t had much reason to hurt you. I forgot how fun it is.”

Whumpee made a soft noise of pain, struggling to push themself up onto their hands and knees. They were aided by the hand tangling in their hair and yanking them up the rest of the way. “N-no more,” they begged, voice barely audible. “I can’t...”

Whumper chuckled. “But I’m enjoying this so much, honey. Unless you can think of another way to entertain me?”

Whumpee nodded desperately, which made their head spin. Fingers grasped at Whumper’s thighs because they couldn’t get the words out, chest tight and voice choked with sobs.

“Hm,” Whumper hummed thoughtfully. “You don’t usually give it up that easy. Must really be feeling it, huh?”

Another boot to the stomach made Whumpee double over, shoulders heaving as they puked.

Whumper took a step back and watched them with amusement. “Poor little thing,” they cooed. Whumpee was shaking, arms curled around themself protectively. “I don’t think I'll ever get tired of you.”

taglist: @morning-star-whump ((if you want to be added lmk!))

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chaotic-orphan · 10 months

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June of doom, day nineteen:

That’s going to be one hell of a scar : cage // pliers // scrape

CW: team Whump, leader whump, threats, carving/ cutting ( explicit), blood (explicit), intimate whumper, scary whumper, evil whumper, creepy whumper, defiant whumpees, multiple whumpees, knife mentioned, torture (explicit and graphic), mention of past injury, fear of darkness?, Self sacrifice

Very long and very late I am sorry, enjoy

*~*~*~*~*

“Leader? Leader!” Medic whispered through the darkness, rousing Leader from their light nap. “Leader?”

“I’m here, Medic,” said Leader, voice reassuring. Leader was sitting with their back against the wall, no, not wall. Leader turned with a groan, their muscles still heavy with sleep and their last fight with Supervillain. Leader’s hand found cool metal bars and that woke them up immediately.

Their last battle with Supervillain… Leader remembers their team sweeping in just in time, just as Supervillain’s fist came down on their temple and darkness swallowed them.

Fuck.

“Supervillain has us?” Leader asked quietly.

“He used you as leverage. Told us to surrender or he’d kill you. I’m sorry Leader.”

“No,” said Leader with a grunt, sitting back against the bars. No wonder they were aching all over. “No don’t be sorry. I would have done the same thing. Where are you?”

Leader squinted against the darkness trying to locate Medic, or anything for that matter. They could barely see their nose in front of their face.

“I’m— I think I’m in a cage,” said Medic. Their voice came from the right. Leader lifted their arm through the bars trying to feel for another cage but felt nothing. They took a sharp breath as the reaching movement aggravated a stabbing pain in their ribs. “Leader?”

“I’m okay,” said Leader through grit teeth. Fuck, Supervillain had gotten a few good hits on Leader. Their upper lip was sticking to their nose from no doubt a trail of blood. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah… we’re all good. Supervillain just took us he didn’t touch us, we were just worried about you…”

“We? Supervillain took all of you?”

A blinding light flashed on and Leader shielded their eyes in the crook of their elbow and heard a couple of familiar moans from the sudden brightness.

“I thought I heard voices,” came the rumbling voice of Supervillain. There was a smile in his voice that set Leader’s nerves on edge. Leader lowered their arm, blinking quickly trying to adjust to the sudden burst of light. Their eyes settled, taking in the room they were in.

Leader was right. They were in a cage. Solid steel bars lined every edge except the bottom which was just a thick metal edge. Leader could fit comfortably sitting down but there was no way Leader could even think about standing in the cage unless they were on their haunches or kneeling. Even then they’d have to bend their torso, there was probably room for Leader’s head again above them and that was it.

Bastard, forcing them to sit like dogs in cages. Leader’s hand clenched into a fist at their side, glaring up at Supervillain as best they could.

Supervillain stood in his stupid grey three piece suit perfectly tailored to his muscular frame. He wore a charcoal grey overcoat and a black scarf over it and had his cane in both his hands, holding it horizontal as his cruel grey eyes focused on Leader in their cage. Face as expressionless as always, impassive, neutral… every part he could control except his grey eyes. His haunting grey eyes that showed exactly what emotion he was feeling. The only part of him that gave Supervillain away.

“Hey let us out of here you psycho!” Youngest yelled, kicking at the bars of their cage. Leader’s eyes went to them. They were the furthest from them on the left. There was a cage between them — where Rogue sat, glaring at Supervillain — then Youngest’s cage after.

Supervillain turned their head to Youngest’s cage and Leader’s heart dropped. “Sprightly little thing aren’t you?”

“How ‘bout you let me out of this cage and I’ll show you how sprightly I can be, hmm?!”

“Youngest,” Medic said, warning in their voice, to shut up or else. Supervillain walked over to Youngest’s cage and crouched down, putting their cane through the bars. Youngest scrambled back, but there wasn’t anywhere to flee to and their back hit the bars with a gentle thud. Leader watched as Supervillain’s cane rested easy on Youngest’s throat.

Youngest swallowed, the cane bobbing with the motion and put a hand up to grab it, but Supervillain batted it away and struck Youngest’s cheek with the cane. Youngest’s cheek whipped to the side with the impact.

“Supervillain!” Leader yelled now at the front bars of the cage, while Medic cried “Get away from them!”

Supervillain didn’t do either. Instead they kept their gaze on Youngest and lowered the cane to Youngest’s throat again, digging into it: “How ‘bout I chain you up and muzzle you for your insolence, hmm? Will that put manners on you?”

“Supervillain,” said Leader, voice hard. “Leave them alone. If you want to hurt somebody, hurt me!”

Supervillain turned their head and their piercing grey eyes found Leader’s. “Hush, Leader. It’s rude to interrupt someone. You’ll get your turn.”

Supervillain turned back to Youngest, and Leader and teammates could only watch helplessly from their stupid tiny cages. Leader’s heart was pounding out of their chest through their ears, as Supervillain used the Cane to force Youngest to look at them. An angry red welt was growing on Youngest’s cheek and they stared at Supervillain with a mixture of fear and hatred.

Supervillain tilted their head. Then asked with their horrible, matter of fact way: “Would you like to be immobilised completely and gagged, Youngest?”

Youngest shook their head side to side. “Use your words,” said Supervillain and Youngest swallowed, then spat out a contemptuous no.

“No what?” Supervillain asked, and Youngest’s entire face scrunched up in disgust. Leader saw their hands ball into fists at their sides. Leader also saw the tremble in their hands before they made them into fists. The fear coursing through their veins masked with their anger.

Supervillain pressed the cane into Youngest’s throat and their hand shot up again but stopped at Supervillain’s soft: “ah-ah-ah. No what, Youngest?”

Humiliation burned red on Youngest’s face as they said: “no, sir.”

Supervillain retracted the cane and stood in one swift movement. “Good. You can learn.”

Supervillain then turned to Leader with his grinning grey eyes. “They have a lot of potential, Leader. You should be proud.”

“Let them go, Supervillain,” Leader said.

“Why would I let them go? I have you all right where I want you. Except for you of course, Leader,” said Supervillain, walking towards Leader’s cage. Leader moved so they were sitting on their arse in the cage, legs stretched out in front of them and back against the bars, craning their neck to keep Supervillain in view. Supervillain stood directly over Leader’s cage looking down at them with a subtle hint of a smirk tugging at the edge of his lips.

Supervillain’s voice dipped, his rumbling deepening as he practically purred: “You I want on display. As a warning and a trophy as to what happens to those who oppose me.”

“In your dreams,” Leader snarled and Supervillain laughed, putting their hands on the top of Leader’s cage. Leader fought the urge to grab Supervillain’s hand and yank them down on the cage just to wipe that smirk off his stupid face.

“Sometimes Leader, if you work hard enough, your dreams can come true. Especially now that I got your little gang here too. You’d do just anything to protect them, wouldn’t you?” Leader’s heart sank at his words, their mouth going dry. That’s why they were here. Because of Leader. Because of Leader’s weakness to them.

“If you touch them—“

“I promise I won’t lay a finger on them,” Supervillain said, “as long as you do as I say.”

“No, Leader!” Rogue hissed from the cage to Leader’s left. “No you can’t let him—“

“You’re not sacrificing yourself for us,” said Medic, tone final. “We’ll get out! We’ll find a way, Leader. We always find a way. He just wants you we’ll be fine!”

“Yeah Leader, I just want you. You gonna make your team suffer in your place?” Supervillain asked with their hideous smiling rumble. Leader stuttered out a breath through their nose, even though it felt like they couldn’t breathe. Supervillain was asking something so impossible of them… and Leader didn’t want to just go along with it as horrible as that sounded.

They didn’t want to be the Leader and sacrifice themselves to Supervillain’s sadistic machinations, but if they didn’t… if they didn’t Supervillain would subject his team to them instead. Their team. Their family.

Leader swallowed hard, eyes focused on Supervillain’s cruel grey ones and nodded, just once. Supervillain’s lips spread into a proper smile now, and they got to undoing the lock on top of Leader’s cage. To the protests from Leader’s team.

“No! Leader no! Supervillain! Hurt me instead, hurt me please!” Medic demanded, pleaded, while Rogue just started kicking at the hinges on their cage and yelled in frustration when they got nowhere. Youngest was dead silent as Supervillain lifted the door of the cage and grabbed Leader under the shoulder and helped them out of the cage.

“Easy. Easy, there you go,” Supervillain praised, letting Leader sit back against the cage, sucking in a sharp breath. Supervillain moved his hand down to Leader’s ribs and Leader shot a hand out, stopping him, breathing heavy and cutting into Supervillain with a glare. Supervillain’s expression remained neutral, yet his eyes were a playful chiding. “I gave you that injury, Leader. Do you really think you can deny me seeing it? Do you really want to risk your teammates getting matching bruises?”

Leader’s glare softened to one of furious shame, as they let go of Supervillain’s hand and allowed him to lift Leader’s shirt up to Leader’s ribs. The cold smile on Supervillain’s face looked wrong. Strange. His hand on Leader’s ribs was surprisingly warm, as he pressed his palm against it and Leader sucked in a breath, clenching their jaw.

“Does that hurt?” Supervillain asked with his rolling rumble like falling stone.

“No. I’m just peachy— ow!” Leader cried as Supervillain dug their fingers into Leader’s ribs. Leader jerked to the side but Supervillain held them firm until Leader was gasping for breath, protesting: “Okay! Okay! It hurts!”

Supervillain removed his hand and dropped Leader’s shirt. “Good,” he said and stepped back. Leader looked at him, then Rogue was shouting in warning as Supervillain’s cane cracked against Leader’s bruised ribs. Leader crumbled to their knees, mouth open in a silent scream as they fell, then gasped again on the ground. They were on one hand and their knees, their other hand cradling their ribs protectively.

“Leader! Leader!” Medic was crying, but Leader just sucked in a sharp breath and raised their head to Supervillain again. Eyes narrowing.

Supervillain let out a loud sigh. “Still so insolent,” he said slowly, and cracked the cane against Leader’s jaw. Leader cried out, struggling to get their balance but it didn’t matter. Supervillain kicked at Leader’s injured ribs again and Leader went down, hitting off the stone floor and curling up protectively around themselves.

Leader opened their eyes to see Rogue reaching out for them between the bars, but they weren’t able to reach Leader. Leader saw a flash of grey fabric before a polished shoe slammed down on Rogue’s hand, driving the heel into it.

“No,” Leader gasped out with a pathetic wheeze. “No…” they said again, getting to their knees and grabbing at Supervillain’s foot. “Me… only… me…”

“Hear that Roguey? Only Leader, so stop trying to help or I’ll just hurt Leader more, yeah?” Supervillain said, lifting their foot from Rogue’s hand and grabbing Leader by the hair. Leader groaned as Supervillain yanked them up to their knees. “Get up, Leader. To your feet, come on now. I have a lesson to teach you all.”

Leader cried out as Supervillain yanked them up by the hair further and got to their shaky feet, holding onto Supervillain for balance. “Good. Very good. Now give me your hands.”

Cold fear washed through Leader’s veins at the command. Not their hands, they wanted to say. Anything but their hands. A punch to their ribs and Leader almost doubled over, but Supervillain used the pain as a diversion and cuffed Leader’s hands together in front of them. The cold metal snapped closed over Leader’s wrists, tightened to the point that Leader wondered if they would cut off their blood flow.

A strong hand under Leader’s chin directed their head up to look into those vindictive grey eyes. “Can you stand on your own?”

“Maybe if my ribs weren’t aching right now,” Leader grumbled, channeling all their pain, all their hatred into their glare they shot into the fathomless steel grey sea. Supervillain let Leader go, but Leader was ready this time. Both feet planted on the ground, knees bent, hands kept low in front of them.

The side of Supervillain’s lips quipped at Leader, as if they were impressed, but Leader could also very well be drunk on pain right now so they weren’t sure if what their eyes showed them were real.

Supervillain took off his black scarf first, then his overcoat and hung them on a hook that was nailed into the door. Next came the suit jacket and he stopped there, hanging that up too. He uncuffed the cuff links from his dress shirt and began rolling up his sleeves.

“Thought you were going to treat us to a striptease,” said Leader, forcing their usual devil-may-care smile onto their face. Supervillain flashed a smile too and then Leader’s head was thrown back, fresh blood dripping down their nose as Supervillain grabbed their hair to bring them up again.

“See, Leader, it’s not your fault per se, but with you being the Captain of your little team, your cute lil quips have spread like a wildfire throughout your ranks. Which means not only do I want to torture you to the point where you can’t even think about any witty comments, but I also want to wring it out of your teammates too.”

Leader’s hands shot up at the mention of their teammates and Supervillain smiled a handsome smile, as if he was happy to have touched a nerve.

“So you think I’m witty?” was all Leader said and Medic let out a tired: “shut up leader.”

“See?” Supervillain said, hand tightening in Leader’s hair. “Even they know when to stop.”

Leader just grinned exposing their bloody teeth. They had gone full feral, anything to piss Supervillain off. Anything to keep him off of their teammates. Just bait him. Bait him. Bait all his anger. All his frustration. Don’t even let him think about touching their team.

“Are you going to put me in my place or is you talking the torture?” Leader asked, tired. Supervillain could still that spark of defiance in Leader’s face and he let his mask of indifference shutter down over his own face.

Supervillain turned Leader and began dragging them towards the darkness behind the cages. Leader dragged their feet, their boots scraping along the ground as they were pulled against their will into the deep dark. Fear clasped their heart in a vice as they went stumbling after Supervillain’s long strides.

Lights flickered on around them and Leader could feel all the blood drain from their face. It looked like a fucked up medical room, with tools and utensils on the walls perfectly hung and cabinets full of god knows what.

And in the middle of the room was a metal table. Leader started struggling more now and Supervillain grinned as he felt the pull become more desperate. Supervillain turned to face Leader and revelled in the panic winding through their features. Supervillain yanked Leader forward and shoved them back onto the table. Leader fought them, trying to push Supervillain away but even on a good day they knew they wouldn’t be able to.

Supervillain wrestled Leader down, yanking their cuffed wrists above their head and hooking them to the end of the table. Leader yanked them down with all their might but they wouldn’t come loose. Supervillain watched Leader struggle until they stopped, lazy grey eyes going to Leader’s, raising his eyebrows, he asked: “no witty remarks?”

“Do your worst,” is what Leader said and Supervillain grinned.

“Oh I intend to,” said Supervillain stepping away from the table and walking over to one of the walls, grabbing a pliers from it and walking back over. Leader felt adrenaline pump through their veins a little too late if you asked Leader, but they tugged on the cuffs all the same just for something to do. Somewhere to put their fear.

Supervillain left the pliers on the metal table then walked back to the cages. The panic seized Leader’s throat as they leaned up, straining against the ache in their ribs, against the strain on their arms and cried out: “Supervillain! Don’t touch them! Just me, remember?!”

The clang of the handcuffs off the metal table was ricocheting through Leader’s ears like a storm of bullets from their struggling but they didn’t care. They saw Supervillain bend and pick up something from the floor and turn to walk back to Leader.

Leader calmed down a bit after seeing it was Supervillain’a cane. “Don’t worry Leader. I only have eyes for you. This just requires a more personal touch,” said Supervillain with his rolling voice, a hint of humour rounding his words. When Supervillain stopped beside the metal table Leader was chained to, he clicked a button on the handle and the hidden blade shinked out of the end of the cane.

The dagger had been a nasty surprise when Leader first felt it slice across his cheek. Supervillain had kept it a secret until Leader finally had the advantage over him in a fight, and then that shink changed the entire pace of the fight. That just seemed to be the general theme of Supervillain and Leader’s relationship.

Supervillain always seemed to have the upper hand.

Supervillain twisted the bottom of the cane and it came loose, the black metal of the cane becoming the hilt of the blade at the bottom. Leader tugged at the handcuffs again. They felt too exposed. Too readily waiting like a lamb for slaughter, they needed to do something.

“Nerves getting the better of you?” Supervillain asked, voice quiet as he placed the cane on a table to the side. “I can always drag Medic over here instead if you prefer.”

“You wouldn’t live to see tomorrow if you did,” Leader hissed and Supervillain smiled down at them.

“Just making sure. Now, to business,” said Supervillain. They grabbed Leader’s shirt and cut it loose with the blade. The cool metal scraped against Leader’s abdomen and chest causing a shiver to run down their spine. Supervillain turned back to face the cages and said louder so everyone could hear: “is everyone paying attention? Good. This is what happens you just don’t know when to stop and piss me off. Pay attention Youngest.”

The harsh tug of metal and Supervillain smiled to himself, turning back to Leader. All helpless and angry below him. Supervillain nearly sighed and stopped his work to just bask in how long it took him to finally get Leader here. Right where he wanted them, to finally hear them scream and not be able to fight back whatsoever.

Not with their hands.

Not with their words.

He wanted them broken, and hollow, to be moulded into something more after Supervillain was finished with them. The potential just sat idle under their skin and Supervillain would be the man to bring it out into the sunlight. That untapped nugget of something extraordinary.

Supervillain walked around the other side of the table, dagger in hand, then hummed, walking to the other side again. Mouth screwing up in concentration. Then, mind made up he sighed and climbed onto the table, straddling Leader’s waist with a knee on either side.

“At least buy me dinner fir— uhst,” Leader gasped as Supervillain pressed their ribs with his fingers.

“I need you to hold still for me now Leader, and tell me when it hurts.”

Supervillain wished he could have photographed the beautiful confusion on Leader’s face before he leaned over them, pinning their shoulder to table and started carving the first initial of Supervillain’s name just below Leader’s right shoulder.

Leader screamed as Supervillain dragged the blade through skin as if it was as easy as paper, thrashing in their restraints and screaming. Trying to loosen the handcuffs from the hook or jab a knee into Supervillain’s side, crotch, leg — anything. Anything to stop the pain that burned through Leader’s shoulder.

“Hold still. Almost there,” said Supervillain and placed a steadying hand on Leader’s bruised ribs to keep them down. Leader opened their mouth in a silent scream, trying to alleviate the pressure by sucking in their stomach and pushing it out. Twisting, writhing, turning— nothing could make them feel better.

Supervillain leaned back and smiled down at Leader. Leader was just happy they had finally stopped, but it didn’t stop the stinging pain from the deep cuts that were still bubbling warm blood down Leader’s torso and onto the table. To Leader’s horror, Supervillain reached back and picked up the pliers they had left on the edge of the table.

Supervillain brought them down to Leader’s fresh cuts and Leader shook their head, tears streaming down their face. “Supervillain— don’t- don’t!”

“Sssh,” Supervillain cooed, pressing a bloody finger to Leader’s lips. “Relax. I just need to make sure it’ll last.”

That sentence did anything but reassure Leader and before Leader could tell Supervillain that they would rate him poorly on yelp, the pliers was in his skin. The metal bites opening Leader’s flesh, ripping them further apart. Leader screamed from their gut, like a banshee, except worse because they knew merciful death wasn’t coming after the torture. It was just more torture.

Leader was in and out of consciousness by the time Supervillain was done, blinking hazily up at the monster above them. “Good. Done. You did so good. That’s—“ supervillain said with a laugh. “That’s gonna leave one hell of a scar, Leader. You’ll die with that one.”

“Go fuck yourself,” Leader croaked, voice hoarse from screaming. Supervillain tutted them.

“Leader. Leader. Leader. Where’s your usual banter, hmm? No funny input? I didn’t expect you to break so soon.”

Leader couldn’t even tug at their restraints in protest anymore. Their body was exhausted from healing and the adrenaline leaving their system. Supervillain lifted the bloody pliers so Leader could see it and sighed.

“You know the pliers was fun, but I think a clamp would be much more effective at ensuring scarring, wouldn’t you Medic?”

Leader barely heard Medic’s desperate reply. “Please… Supervillain. Please, let me look at them. I can heal them, make sure—“

“Enough. I don’t want them healed. I want them suffering. Although I do enjoy this whole family trauma thing, it does spice up the torture a bit.”

Supervillain was off Leader them and Leader nearly passed out with relief. Until their eyes followed Supervillain to the wall again and they pulled out a medical clamp, and the breath was taken from them.

Supervillain wasn’t done with Leader… they weren’t finished yet.

Sure enough Supervillain climbed back on top of Leader in the same position as before with their blood slicked knife in hand and a clamp in the other.

“You… you’re… I thought—“

“You thought we were done?” Supervillain asked and then laughed. A humourless, evil sound. “No. No. That was just the initial of my first name, Leader. How else will people know I tamed you if I don’t write my last name too?”

Distantly Leader could hear Rogue and Youngest shouting, protesting, calling Supervillain ever name under the sun and screaming. Pleading.

It all melded together in the static in Leader’s brain.

“In all honesty, Leader, you should be thanking whatever God is looking down at you that I don’t have a double barrel last name or we’d run out of body parts.”

Supervillain leaned over and pinned Leader’s left shoulder before getting to carving again. Leader screamed and cried and screamed some more and eventually, mercifully, they passed out on the table.

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whumpsoda · 8 months

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The Furniture

I just loveee recovery❤️‍🩹

Cw: people being treated like/acting similar to animals, mentions of kidnapping, conditioning

———————————————————————

Caretaker knew it would be different. She was fully aware that five years through hell would change a person, maybe even completely. She’d already had a full insight to it while both whumpees had been in the hospital.

Now that they were moved into her home permanently, she had hoped it would get better. Maybe the hospital had been too stressful for them, maybe they were too far in shock that they didn’t realize they had been rescued.

Caretaker was fully aware that she had been much too hopeful when she saw Whumpee 1 crawling out of the car. Ever since he got back, Whumpee 1 had only moved on all fours, and if told there was no reason for him to do so, Caretaker only recieved a confused expression in response.

“Hey, dude, I promise, swear on my life, that you can walk now okay? Please?” Whumpee 1 let out a faint whimper. Whumpee 2 walked sometimes, other times crawling. To Caretaker’s relief, he was at her side on two feet.

Caretaker took a moment to think. She lived in an apartment, there was no way she would let him crawl all the way to her residence. She’d never admit it, but she didn’t really want any outsiders to see him on all fours, either. “What-what if Whumpee 2 carried you?” She said it tenderly, yet she could still see the both of them tense. It seemed that everytime she said their names now that a strike of dismay struck through them.

They both stared at her, no discernible response from either of them, only puzzlement. She’d seen it so many times since they’d been reconnected, and it pained her deeply.

After a moment, Whumpee 2 reached his bulky, muscular arms down to the man on the ground, enveloping him in his arms. Whumpee 2 hoisted him up bridal style, lifting the six foot plus man as if it was nothing.

Caretaker swallowed. “Is… is that alright? Do you guys feel okay with it?” Since their rescue she’d never seen either of them express any opinion whatsoever, even if she had asked them of it. Both of them nodded hesitantly. “That’s good. If either of you get uncomfortable in any way, let me know. Please.”

Fortunately, they made it to her apartment fairly quickly, only running into a couple people. Her apartment building was luckily not very large. Unfortunately, those the group did run into had understandably supplied concerned glances.

The whumpees did not seem bothered though, which was good in a way. They didn’t seem to notice at all what Caretaker had seen. Whumpee 1 seemed relatively dazed most of the time, and Whumpee 2 always seemed too focused on Caretaker.

As she attempted to wriggle her keys out of the door, Caretaker ushered them inside of the cozy home. “If you’d like, you guys can sit in the living room… area-thing. I cleaned up just for you guys.” She grinned and chuckled lightly, trying to lighten the mood. Neither man gave any reaction.

Whumpee 2 set the other man down on the floor, Whumpee 1 once again taking on his instinctive crawling position. Caretaker could see them heading over to the couch area as she slipped her shoes off and set her things down.

She couldn’t let them see it, but Caretaker was in shambles. She had absolutely no idea what she was doing, absolutely no clue what to say or how to help them. As she held her head in her hands, she attempted to collect her thoughts.

Caretaker slipped her hands from her face, and turned her gaze to the couch. The only problem was, no one was sitting on it.

Whumpees 1 and 2 were on the floor.

Luckily she had set down a rug, so they weren’t sitting on the hard flooring of the apartment. Whumpee 1 was kneeling, back straight and his hands positioned on his large thighs. Whumpee 2 had his legs spread and bent, his hands set to the floor in front of him.

“You guys can sit on the couch.” She made sure her words were casual, so as to not distress them. Neither moved. As she swiftly stepped in their direction, standing intimidatingly above them, the men both stiffened.

To both of their dismay, she plopped down across from the bot of them.

They stared back, slack jawed. “Is… did I do something wrong?” She fiddled nervously with a strand of her hair between two slender fingers. Whumpee 2 moved his mouth as if to speak, but stopped before any sound was able to escape. “You can speak, dude. I’m not gonna get mad or anything.” His face relaxed slightly, but his frame stayed rigid. Whumpee 2 had spoken several times before, while Whumpee 1 had yet to do so.

“Owners… shouldn’t be level with pets, sir.” While it’s the type of response Caretaker had expected after hearing him speak similarly before, she was still majorly unprepared to hear it.

“Is that… is that why you guys didn’t sit on the couch?” Whumpee 2 kept his eyes plastered to the floor, as did Whumpee 1. Whumpee 1 kept his head down and his back slumped, as if to make his lanky frame appear smaller.

Whumpee 2 nodded obediently. “Pets don’ get ’ta be on furniture. Those’re human things.” Caretaker felt the overwhelming urge to vomit from the way she heard him speak of himself. The more she heard him talk, the more she also realized how robotically and momotonous he spoke, much unlike how she had remembered him.

“What if… what if I said I want you guys to use the furniture?” She tilted her head, examining his face.

He wasted no time to supply a mechanical response.

“Pets don’ get ’ta be on furniture. Those’re human things.”

#pet whump #whump #whumpblr #conditioning whump #recovery #whump writing #caretaker #My writing #writing drabble

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unforgivenn · 4 days

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SHACKLED BY ROYALTY

#1 :THE BEAST'S PET

CW: abduction, captivity, slight whump, coercion, power dynamics, pet whump, drugging, defiant whumpee, swearing, dominant whumper, slavery

Noah woke to the jolt of the wagon hitting a rut in the road. Darkness surrounded him and he could only think he was blindfolded. The cloying scent of sweat and fear clinging to the air like a suffocating shroud. Disorient and groggy, he blinked away the remnants of his sleep, his senses gradually coming alive to the harsh reality. He suddenly sat up frantically shaking his head as if the tightened blindfold would somehow magically fall off.

"H-Hey!! Let me out of here!!" His body ached from the unforgiving jostle of the wagon, every bone protesting against the place he was in right now. Chains rattled with each bone-jarring bump in the road, a chilling reminder of the shackles that bound his wrists and ankles, tethering him to a fate he dared not contemplate.

"Where are you taking me?!!" Noah's screams only grew louder when no response was given. His heart beating so fast as if it would jump out of his chest. "ANSWER ME! SOMEONE!" He quietened when he heard a "tch" near him.

A deep, South American accent cut through the darkness like a blade, sending a shiver down Noah's spine. "Didn't expect him to wake up this early. And he's awfully loud," the voice mused, its casual cruelty sending a chill through the air.

Noah's heart pounded in his chest as he felt a rough hand grab his arm, the sting of a needle piercing his skin sending shockwaves of numbness coursing through his veins. Just then he heard whines around him. There were people. More people like him. Gradually, the numbness from the injection site started to spread.

Noah tried his best to speak something. Something that could catch the attention of other people there. He felt confused.

Who were these people? And where the hell were they taking him?

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Abruptly, the cart lurched to a halt, the sudden cessation of movement sending Noah sprawling against the unforgiving floor. He woke with a small cry of pain, his heart hammering in his chest as he listened, breath held in fearful anticipation.

Footsteps approached, heavy and purposeful, accompanied by the jingle of chains and the murmured voices of unseen captors. Noah's pulse quickened, dread pooling in the pit of his stomach like icy tendrils of dread.

Two muscular arms went under each of Noah's underarms holding him up.

"Where are you taking me?!" he cried out, his voice raw with fear, but his captors remained silent, their faces hidden in the shadows.

One of the guys patted Noah's head leaving him more enraged.

All of a sudden, he was thrown to the ground before he was being manhandled to be in a kneeling position with multiple chains on his neck, ankles and wrists holding him in place allowing his captors to have full control over him.

As the blindfold was ripped away, Noah blinked against the harsh light, his eyes adjusting to the sight of his surroundings. It seemed like some sort of a court room? His mind was still clouded up from the drug that was given to him.

"W-What the fu-" A harsh slap shut him up.

"Shush. The young prince will be here any second" Prince? What the fuck was happening?? He wanted to question more but knew better than that. It felt like a scene right out of Hollywood.

Suddenly, he saw the men around him which he thought were most probably the guards bowed down to a young man. Noah raised his head up as to see who it was before a rough hand in his hair forced his head back down only allowing him to see the man's piercing green eyes. The man whom they called the "young prince" stayed quiet. The tension in the room visibly increased before a deep voice spoke.

"Leave us." The guards were quick to retreat from their position and going out of the court room. Noah was about to get up from his kneeling position before flinching at the harsh voice. "Stay still slave!"

"Slave?!" Noah's voice wavered with disbelief, but the harsh slap that followed left him reeling, his cheek stinging with the sting of humiliation. He heard the man tutting.

"Oh dear" He sighed. "It's going to take a lot of time to break that swearing and defiance from you.. But.."

The man grinned, the smile no other than a vicious beast's. He leaned closer, his teeth barely just grazing the other's ears before he whispered. "Oh how I'll enjoy seeing you squirm and beg me to spare you" Noah's body practically froze, terror filling his eyes.

Desperation clawed at Noah's chest as he dared to question his captor's authority. "W-Who are you...?"

But the prince's response sent a chill through his bones—a predatory grin twisting his lips as he whispered promises of torment and submission.

"I'm Andrey. Son of Viktor Kozlov," the prince declared, his name a whispered curse that echoed in Noah's ears. "You will address me as 'sir'."

Noah's blood ran cold as the weight of his situation settled upon him. This was no mere kidnapping—it was a descent into a nightmare from which there would be no waking.

As the reality of his situation sank in, Noah's world spun on its axis, his mind racing with unanswered questions and unspoken fears. With each passing moment, the weight of his captivity grew heavier, a suffocating shadow looming over him, threatening to consume him whole.

Noah only knew this was going to be one hellish of a ride. And only god knew when it was going to end.

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some-messed-up-writing-for-you · 6 months

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Surrender An Ask Game! - "Dreadful Meetings"

CW: dehumanization, captivity, implied past torture.

Heheheehe, this has been quite fun! Hope you all enjoy what I cooked up! <33

Ask game made by: @epiclamer & @save-the-villainous-cat

What is the game about?

~~~~

Ask submitted by @livingforthewhump

Prompt: "This is hyper specific, and probably doesn’t make much sense, but imagine Whumpee was originally part of a team, before Whumper took them. Maybe a few months pass, and Whumper has a meeting with their team Leader over something completely unrelated.

Maybe this is a league of Villains bargaining with a League of Heroes or something. Whumpee is leashed and collared with a muzzle over their face, kneeling at Whumper’s side. At some point, the meeting turns ugly, with Leader being (understandably) distressed seeing Whumpee in such a state, and starts threatening Whumper. At which point the Whumpee starts 𝘨𝘳𝘰𝘸𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 at their former team leader.

Whether they’re genuinely so far gone that they see themself as less than human, making animal noises, or they’re trying to speak through the muzzle is irrelevant. Both parties are in shock. Whumper is delighted, and 100% rubs it in team Leader’s face, but team Leader suddenly loses their will to fight.

Bonus points if the Whumpee is quite big and muscular.”

~~~~~~~~

The door swung open with a soft creak as Leader entered the room. They stood tall, chin held high with a perfectly blank expression in the face of their enemy. The villain greeted them with an equally blank facade, shaking hands before guiding them to a pair of chairs.

Even before the leader got a chance to sit down, they noticed the third presence in the room... and promptly ignored it. Their heart couldn’t handle seeing yet another person suffering. With so much already weighing on their shoulders, they paid the stranger no mind.

Villain would fall soon enough. They just had to push through. Just push through…

The two foes quickly plunged into conversation, discussing the Hero League’s most recent offer. It was important... and yet sounded more and more like mindless buzzing to Leader’s ears the longer it went on.

They spoke their piece expertly, doing their best to convince the villain to agree, but their focus kept drifting away. The leader’s eyes couldn’t help but glance at the unfortunate soul kneeling by Villain’s feet.

Despite their attempts at doing otherwise, Leader studied the stranger closer. Their muscular body - clearly fit and powerful - was covered by shaggy rags with a thick, leather muzzle covering half of their face.

“A guard dog…” the leader surmised in their head. “Dear god, they have so many scars… What has this bastard put them through…?”

Anger boiled in Leader’s veins the longer they stared. To subject a fellow human to such horrors, such degradation, it’s… it’s…!

A cold dread washed over them for a split second. “It’s… Whumpee…?”

When those once shining eyes met theirs, the recognition of their lost teammate set Leader’s fury ablaze once more. In the short time they had frozen and stared at the whumpee, Villain noticed their realization.

With a knowing smirk, the criminal asked, “Do you like my pet? I trained it myself.”

The leader’s fists clenched hard enough to go numb, their teeth grinding together as they spoke. They whipped towards Villain with a fiery stare. “You…”

Jumping to their feet abruptly, Leader knocked the chair backwards in their rage and loomed over the enemy. “What have you done to them?!”

The villain, to their credit, appeared unfazed if not amused.

Their smug face only raised the leader’s anger to levels they had never thought possible. “I swear, if you don’t release them at once–” Leader began their threat, but the moment they took a step forward, their words fell silent when a growling sound filled the air.

Surprised, their head snapped to the source of it, finding nothing but the whumpee.

Their lost teammate was staring at them with wide eyes, snarling like the rabid dog they had been degraded to. Every muscle in their body was suddenly taut, ready to spring forward should their master be endangered.

That was why Villain had never bothered to stand; they had no need to.

The coldness in Leader’s chest came back tenfold, suffocating whatever fight had just been there. They… didn’t know what to do.

Luckily for them, once the villain had gotten their fill of causing anguish, they chirped, “I’d advise you to sit back down, Leader. I’m willing to overlook this little… tantrum of yours and get back to business.”

Tantrum. Tantrum…

Villain’s lips had twitched with such vile amusement at the word. Leader didn’t want to “get back to business”! They wanted to grab Whumpee and get the hell out of there! Their teammate was right there!

But alas… they couldn’t.

Whatever remained of the whumpee they knew, so feral and destroyed, drove them to a feeling of defeat. They fell back into their chair.

The growling stopped, and Whumpee spared them no second glance.

Villain’s smile only grew as Leader’s soul cracked into ever-tinier pieces. The anger was gone, replaced with a shameful exhaustion they couldn’t bring themself to oppose.

The meeting continued, but Leader barely paid the words any mind. Their thoughts raced, relentlessly bashing their psyche with a mental crowbar.

“How could I have failed so horribly? Do I… even deserve to be called a leader?”

#surrenderanask #surrender an ask #writeblr #writing #whump #hero x villain #hero x villain community #smuwfy #some messed up writing for you #tw: dehumanization #tw: captivity #tw: implied torture

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dismemberment-on-a-tuesday-night · 10 months

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Angel Farm

Note: I spent all day yesterday butchering chickens and naturally had to write angel whump. I promise that real butchering is much more humane than...whatever this pure blasphemy is.

TW: mass murder, eating a sentient species, raised for slaughter, religious whump, gore, referenced death of unborn children, dehumanization, captivity, immortal whumpees, angel whumpees, multiple whumpees, demon whumpers, multiple whumpers

Butchering day had come around once again. Without a doubt the most horrific time of the year.

The butchering stations had all been set up the day before. Sharp knives laid out on cutting boards. Metal buckets beneath the tables to scrape viscera into. Plastic bags to seal the dismembered carcasses in. Same as last year. The old poplar tree stump next to the coop had an ax head buried in its blood stained heart wood.

Less angels had been born this year. The living angels had heard the demons discussing the high demands for eggs. Some were unfertilized, worth nothing to the angels who laid them. Others were left beneath the mothers until the chicks were nearly ready to hatch before being stolen away. A delicacy of the nine rings. The mothers had stopped crying years ago.

Some angels tried to hide behind buckets of feed or under the roost when they heard the demons approaching. It wasn't any use, and they knew it. But still they hid, shielding their bodies with glossy white wings, hoping for mercy from merciless beings. Most of the angels simply milled around, making no effort to hide, or slept through the day until they were selected.

The hope blooming in the heart of every angel, no matter their temperament or outlook, was that the demon desecrating their body would slip with their knife, destroying their heart so they would never regenerate.

To be finally at peace was a dream too outlandish for a reasonable angel, but still it happened every so often. Once or twice every decade. Enough to keep hope alive. But more angels were born than died, new coops being built every year to house them.

They were allowed to watch the butchering process. Peering through the barbed wire fence that kept them from ever spreading their massive wings in flight. Most didn't care for the sickening display. But a macabre few found comfort in memorizing the process.

Some angels, brave and foolish, fought to escape as soon as they were brought out of the coop. Those rare few who managed to fly away were always caught, drunk on glorious freedom. Angels didn't last long in the fire and brimstone of hell.

Demons beheaded angels with mighty axes, seizing their heads by blood slicked white hair and tossing them in a bin to be fed to the hellhounds. The wings of the decapitated angels thrashed against the grasps of demons, overcome with painful muscular spasms.

Some kept this up intentionally, knowing they were worth less with their wings broken. Any frustration caused to their tormentors was well worth the agony of broken bones.

Being thrown in scalding water to loosen their skin in feathers was pure agony, their insides filling with water through their gaping esophagus. The water wasn't even boiling, as that would ruin their meat by cooking them too early. It could even be considered chilly compared to the many hotsprings of hell.

But angels used to staying dry and bathing in dust could hardly bear the sensation of water at any temperature. They hardly noticed the plucking afterward, still in dreadful shock. Their beautiful wings were stripped of their protective feathers, left as bare as any other patch of skin on their too delicate bodies.

The angels were finally recovered from the shock of water in time for horrific disembowelment. Their craws were removed first. Accidentally puncturing them could ruin their meat, so the demons were particularly careful. Their throat was then removed, thrown in a bin to later be made into soup stock. But those were the easy steps.

Next, a piece of their flesh was roughly cut out, stretching from the bottom of their ribcage to their tailbone. Demons reached inside their chest cavity, ripping out intestines and other disgusting organs with horrible glee, seeing if they could remove the digestive tract in one piece.

They left the hearts inside the body out of cruelty while they separated the organs to be bagged and sold. Intestines were cleaned to make sausages. Livers and kidneys were saved to be fried up and eaten. Stomachs and lungs were tossed to the curious cats jumping on the butchering table to lap up pools of blue angel blood.

Then came the dismemberment. Wing, leg, and breast meat was all cut apart with well practiced precision. Still the hearts beat within the chest cavity, only to cause the angels pain through the entire process. Only after the carcass had been dismembered and the chest cavity was thoroughly cleaned out, the hearts were finally removed.

They were kept in incubators, beating without pumping blood, while the angels fully reformed over a course of weeks. The lack of a body was disturbing, but the absence of pain proved beyond relieving. They couldn't really think, but they could perceive. A state of purgatory within the bowels of hell.

And to think they had once been a glorious species, soaring through the skies of heaven and delivering God's messages to the humans below them on earth. Now fallen from grace they were lower than even humans, bred like livestock by cruel demons and treated as nothing more than a source of food.

At least butchering was over for this year.

Taglist: @hugh-lauries-bald-spot @devourerofcheesecake @whumpshaped @whumpsday @heavenly-whumper @kira-the-whump-enthusiast

#Abraham original: Hot off the press #Whump #Angel whump #Religious whump #Butchering #Angels #Demon whump #Angel whumpee #Demon whumper #Multiple whumpees #Multiple whumpers #Dehumanization #Raised for slaughter

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rainydaywhump · 2 months

Text

Zombies Are An Afterthought - 13

<- Previous

Taglist: @i-eat-worlds @pigeonwhumps @den-of-whump @generic-whumperz @turn-the-tables-on-them

Premise: Holy shit, this fic isn't resolved after all!

Annette, having been kidnapped and tortured for months on end before being rescued by Kel -- thanks to some pandemic-borne luck -- is now well enough that she is willing to call her friends for the first time. The ensuing conversation brings on a host of emotions.

CWs/themes: female whumpee (whump was in the past), female caretaker; zombie pandemic winding down in the background, no big deal; aftermath of torture/aftermath of trauma; tears; creepy and obsessive whumpers (referenced); the struggle of reintegrating/being social after trauma; feels; bittersweet with a positive ending.

Annette Painter sits in front of the laptop. She stares at her own reflection in the camera.

She tries to see herself from the view of the people she’ll be talking to soon. She’s not sure if she likes it; she doubts they will. They’ll be worried. Her cheeks have filled out and her bruises have faded since Kel rescued her from that hell next door, but she knows that she’ll never go back to normal.

Some scars, both literal and not, are simply too deep.

She had considered using foundation to cover up her face and neck scars before Skyping her friends – her true friends, not ‘friends’ like her kidnappers once had been. She was somewhat surprised to find, when Kel asked who she wanted to contact if she was ever up to it, that she still trusted this group of friends despite Cassie and Kay’s betrayal. But then again, she’d always known that these friends were genuine in their care for her.

She had ignored her gut feeling about the other two, and…

…and it isn’t your fault, Kel’s firm voice repeats in her mind.

Kel…hadn’t judged when Annette had told her that she had no family. She hadn’t seemed surprised. When Annette asked, the other woman had explained that she’d done some digging on Annette’s missing person case, and there were no relatives mentioned in any of the scant news articles on her. Kel’s googling skills (she called it ‘OSINT’ and ‘a few favors’?) were unmatched; she knew quite a bit about Kay, Cassie, and the others, too.

That was another conversation.

Despite her tech savviness, Kel had no makeup to speak of – “That’s more Marie’s forte.” So Annette simply wore a t-shirt with a neckline that didn’t show too many garish signs of the abuse, and she let her hair down to shadow her cheeks. It wasn’t perfect, but she knew her friends weren’t expecting her to be.

Based on their text exchange a half hour earlier, they were just happy that she was alive. They had all been absolutely shocked when she’d texted the group chat (numbers found online by Kel, because Annette didn’t have them memorized). The relief in their written words couldn’t have come through clearer.

And now Annette was about to Skype them, to see their faces for the first time in months, for the first time since she’d been kidnapped.

Her stomach churned.

“Hey, Annie?”

She turns. The nickname, which had been so mocking from her tormenters, makes her smile when Kel says it. The tall, muscular woman is standing in the partition between the living room and the kitchen wearing a black tank top and dull green cargo pants that are entirely at odds with the snow falling gently outside. She’s also holding a ratty old dish rag.

“Doing the dishes,” she says, gesturing with the dish rag in unnecessary explanation. Little flecks of soap fly everywhere. “Shit. Eh, at least it’s soap. Anyway. I’m gonna be in the kitchen, unless you want me somewhere else when you call?”

Annette shakes her head. Suddenly, she finds that she can’t speak.

Kel seems to understand.

She tosses the rag to the sink and comes over to join Annette on the couch, looping an arm around her shoulder. Annette remembers her first waking encounter with the other woman – when Kel had been having a bad memory in a nightmare, and had lashed out with that arm when Annette had startled her awake. Her strength had sent the smaller, younger girl flying. But Annette feels nothing but safe with her now; Kel’s strength has only been used (purposefully) to treat her wounds and carry her to bed when her body fails her, nothing more.

“Hey. You don’t have to do this if you’re not ready,” she murmurs now.

Annette shrugs. I want to. But if I start talking now, I’ll start crying, she scribbles on a notepad for Kel to see. I just need a moment.

Kel taps her lightly on the shoulder and rises.

“Alright. Just let me know if you need me. If you can’t talk, throw something at the wall.”

Her eyes drift toward the section of living room wall that Annette knows contains a pistol, and the girl is reminded, not for the first time, that her rescuer is also a little insane. An occupational hazard from her past, she’s learned.

The familiar absurdity startles a laugh out of her and frees up her vocal cords. “No, I’m not firing blanks to get your attention,” she giggles, punching Kel lightly.

Kel puts her hands up in flabbergasted defense – “Annette Painter! I’m not that crazy, come on!”

“Are you telling me that’s not why you looked over there?” Annette laughs.

“I can neither confirm nor deny that allegation,” Kel says with a perfectly straight face, and Annette, still giggling, waves her off to the kitchen. She can hear her muttering something about gun safety on her way out.

When she turns back to the screen, the camera shows a reflection of her that’s a lot more confident than she’d been feeling a few minutes ago.

Her phone has been blowing up in that span – it’s time. Annette takes a deep breath an exits the camera.

Then she logs onto the call.

Kel’s internet connection, serving roughly 100 people in a ten mile radius (and periodically downed thanks to pandemic traffic), takes a moment to connect her. But once it’s done bitching, the faces of her friends pop up between three frames, and suddenly Annette’s throat is damming up her voice again. The same can be said for her friends, but only for a long, long minute before –

“Annette?!”

“Holy shit, it’s really you!”

“What the fuck happened?!”

“Oh my god, you’re alive!”

There’s Gwen, her short blonde hair pulled back at the bangs, freckles splattered even more haphazardly across her face than Annette remembered. She’s sitting next to Mia and Zeke, all three of them crammed together on what Annette recognizes as the table in an apartment Annette doesn’t. In another frame is a girl half-running, half-walking through the snow in a suburban neighborhood, breath foggy in the cold air and workout clothes a pop of color against the snow…Nikayla, her lazy eye slightly askew and the other staring wide out over the rim of her mask. Evander and Vince are squashed together in the next frame, the former sitting on the edge of a couch and the latter perched on the arm, gangly knees in the camera’s view, leaning in to see.

“Hey,” Annette says, smiling sheepishly.

All six of them talk at once; the mic glitches. When it comes back, thank god, Zeke is the only one speaking.

“Where are you?” He says with an intensity that makes Annette forget her nerves for a moment; she belatedly realizes that he’s asking so he can know where to go if she’s in trouble.

“I’m at…”

Annette hesitates for a split second, because even though Kel has told her the cabin’s address multiple times before, she doesn’t remember in the moment.

“2880 West David Lane, Ionia County,” Kel calls from the kitchen.

“Two eighty – wait, Anne, who the hell is that?” Zeke explodes.

“Is that the kidnapper?!” Gwen gasps.

“Are you in danger?!” Evander exclaims.

“I’ll call the police!” Nikayla and Mia yell at the same time.

“No, no – guys, seriously,” Annette said quickly, silencing the overlap of voices. “That’s Kel. She’s the one who saved me.”

“Saved you…?”

Kel pokes her head in. “Sorry, Annie, I was just cleaning up. Didn’t mean to eavesdrop.”

“You’re all good,” Annette says with a smile. She turns back to the camera. “Here, lemme show you.”

She maneuvers the laptop so its camera faces Kel. The taller woman waves to the people behind the screen. There are six of them; three are at a table together, two are crammed inside the frame, and one is half-walking, half-sprinting as she watches.

They’re all young – college-age, like Annette. They’re all in varying orders of emotional magnitude – some are crying silently, others’ faces are gray or flushed with shock. Kel’s heart swells. All these people, and these are just the ones on the video call. Annie’s got some damn good people who care about her.

“Yeah, uh, like she said, I’m Kel.” She’s not used to making introductions. Can’t be that hard, right? I’m the recluse who lives in the woods ‘round here. I found your friend half-dead and carried her back to my cabin because damn it, even in an absurdly early retirement with sketchy origins, I can’t stop trying to be a hero. Hmm. No, that wouldn’t do. “Annie can tell you what happened, but if you’re worried, again, I live at 2880 West David, I’m the only one who lives here, and if you check google maps, you’ll see a big-ass truck in my driveway.

“Annie, you good?” She asks in undertone.

“I’m good,” the girl assures her, and Kel backs off, leaving the dishes for another time and heading to her bedroom to give her more privacy.

She looks back to her friends, truly alone now.

“Hey,” she says again. “I, uh…thanks for all hopping on.”

And thanks for never giving up on me. Thanks for caring. Thanks for weathering a whole pandemic and starting a new year at uni and still never ever giving up on me. She doesn’t know how to say it out loud, but from the tears in her friends’ eyes, it’s clear they hear it anyway.

“Of course,” Gwen says, and those two words hold more weight than anything else.

“I…I’m safe. At least, now I am,” Annette says hesitantly. “Kel rescued me about a month ago. I would’ve let you all know I was okay earlier, but…”

She hesitates.

“You say you were rescued,” says Mia. “I….I take it you were in bad shape, love?”

Annette nods slowly. “Between the blizzard and pandemic measures, Kel couldn’t get me to a hospital. But she didn’t need to. She saved my life.”

“What happened?” Gwen asked quietly.

Here, Annette hesitates.

“Cassie and Kay,” she finally says. “And a few others, but they instigated it.”

The six friends exchange murderous glances.

“We knew it,” Evander says darkly. “We just couldn’t prove it. They – they fucking spoke like they were your best friends. And like you were a lost cause.”

“I always had a bad feeling about them, but I…” Annette looks down. “…I looked up to them, I dunno. I made a huge mistake.” Tears blur her vision.

“Hey, stop that,” Evander says forcefully. “They tricked everyone. They’re manipulators, Anne. You better not be blaming yourself.”

“Damn straight,” Nikayla says.

“Yeah, ‘cause how dare you not expect basic human decency from two random college juniors,” Mia says sarcastically. “They’re the ones who fucked up, you know -- right?”

“And they’ll pay,” Zeke mutters, cracking his knuckles. “Where the hell are they?”

“I don’t know,” Annette says truthfully. “Kel knows, but I asked her not to tell me yet. I just know they’re nowhere near here.”

Nikayla frowns. “Annie…is that a cut on your jaw?”

Oh. Shit. “…yeah. Well, no. It’s a scar. It’s healing.”

The six of them exchange another look through the camera.

“What?” Annette asks, stomach curling in on itself.

“We did some…digging into those two and their circle, after you disappeared,” Gwen said slowly. “And we found…well, you know how I’ve got that one techy friend, Blake, and we…”

“What?”

“We got into their insta accounts and stuff for a bit before they realized someone was snooping. And they had a lot of stuff about you, love,” Mia said, looking down. “Like…they never said they did anything to you, but uh, their old posts had a lot about you. In, uh, a creepy way. We showed it to the police! But then the pandemic hit, and – and they just –”

“They fucking ignored us,” Nikayla growled. “They didn’t care.”

Zeke scoffed, nodding shortly. “We broke into their dorm during the first lockdowns, but we didn’t find anything. Someone reported us and that set us back a whole three days.”

“Jail for B&E,” Evander explained helpfully.

“Holy shit, I’m just glad you’re okay,” Mia whispered, shaking her head. “What the hell did they do to you?”

“Not that you have to talk about that,” Gwen says anxiously, and Annette’s heart twists at the sight of her friend’s familiar nervous habit of twirling her hair. “I mean, unless you want to?”

Five-and-a-half pairs of eyes stare at her from the screen, and Annette is drowning.

“I…”

“Hey, I’m on google maps and I see the truck Kal, I mean, Kel said she had!” Evander, clearly trying to change the subject. “Dang, she’s really out there in the woods. Have you gone hiking?”

“I need to go,” Annette manages, and she shuts the laptop before she lets herself burst into tears.

She’s silent, pressing her hand to her mouth as she grabs Kel’s cell. On the group chat, several of her friends are in the middle of typing. Annette’s fingers fly to beat them.

It’s okay

Sorry

I just got overwhelmed

I’m really happy to see you guys

Talking in general is hard that’s all

Didn’t realize it would be

Are we okay?

She practically throws the phone down on the coffee table and all but runs to her room, not ready to read any replies. She knows that her friends will be nothing but understanding, that they’re flooding the phone with reassurances, that by now they’re all in a call with one another, talking about how best to help. But Annette is terrified of seeing it, terrified of taking such undeserved kindness from them, and, perhaps above all, overwhelmed by talking with so many people at once, especially with people who knew her before the kidnapping.

Kel is leaning against the wall separating their rooms; Annette can’t hear her, but she knows her well enough, and Kel knows her well enough, that there’s no doubt. Kel will be waiting for Annette’s signal for help, and if she doesn’t give one, then Kel will pad into the living room and put the phone and laptop away and make a steaming mug of sweet peppermint tea and knock on Annette’s door and leave it just out of the door’s swing.

“Progress isn’t linear. Progress isn’t linear,” Annette whispers to herself. She burrows under the blankets, but it isn’t enough; she wants the world to be blind to her.

She hasn’t hidden under the bed in a long time, but its small, comforting embrace remembers her all the same.

“Progress isn’t linear,” she repeats. “I’ll be okay.”

She breathes in deeply – holds it – releases slowly through her nose – repeats.

A soft knock, the clink of a mug being set down, and Kel’s purposefully-audible footsteps register, but they don’t startle her. Annette waits for another minute before wiggling out from under the bed.

As peppermint steam warms her face, she gathers up the resolve to step outside.

#whump #whump writing #whumpee #whump rescue #whump recovery #whump oc #female whumpee #female caretaker #whump caretaker #tw torture #cw torture #hurt comfort #zombies are an afterthought #obsessive whumper #creepy whumper #kel oc #annette oc #bittersweet

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redd956 · 1 year

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Big undefeated absolute unit of whumpee clawing and melting into Caretaker’s touch when rescues. They’re mumbling into Caretaker’s chest, half-refusing half-unable to rise fully from the floor to embrace them. Instead their hands weakly grasp at Caretaker’s clothes, not paying attention to how they’re placing all their body weight against Caretaker.

Caretaker is left to stare at them appalled, gently combing their fingers through whumpee’s hair or patting them a few times on the back. They’re trying to shush whumpee, but their rescue just keeps whimpering and mumbling barely coherent sentences.

“Hey now” Caretaker started, motioning and pulling on them in an attempt to get them to lift themselves up. “It’s going to be okay. You’re going to be okay”

Caretaker’s face wilts into pure pity when they spot the sparkling silent tears sliding down whumpee’s face.

#oversized whumpee #muscular whumpee #stoic whumpee #absolute unit of a whumpee #whump #whump ideas #caretaker #whump stuff #whump prompts #whump prompt #whump idea #whump scenario #intimidating whumpee

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whumpsecretsantaevent · 9 months

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SS In July gift: @hiding-in-the-shadows

This is an exchange event so there will be a blanket trigger warning for all entries, so read at your own risk! Potential trigger warnings may include nsfw themes as well as gore and possible squicks.

KASSSSS!!!! ❤️❤️❤️ HAPPY NOT CHRISTMAS, LOVELYl!

You're such a legend and you should know that I was so so happy when I saw I was assigned to you, legit squealed 😭❤️😌 amazing taste in tropes btw - OM NOM NOM 🍽️

I apologise so so much for the delay! my laptop decided to do the die on me and I've been stealing other people's laptops to write where I can! ❤️

I hope you like 🥺 I tried to hit your tropes, and I hope it's okay 😖 I made a new whumpee for it! Nehehe - more pain for more pretty men!

Lots of love, your secret Santa!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was a regular Friday night for Otis, and thank fuck it was. The weekend was starting to feel like it would never arrive and the past hellish week had definitely aged him ten years. Wisps of grey hairs sneak through his dark brown curls, frown lines and wrinkles starting to creep in. The joys of stress, right?

He lay curled up in bed, eyes fluttering shut and breaths drifting softly in and out of his lips. A half-finished glass of red-wine sat on the nightstand, next to a well-worn copy of 1984, his go-to staple book when he was so run off his feet with work that he hadn’t had a chance to snag a new romance novel from his favourite used bookstore a few blocks down from his house. Everything was silent. The only glow was the flickering street lamp across the street, seeping through the slits in the curtains.

Otis drifted away with the high of the alcohol, giggling and hiccuping softly to himself as he did so. His shoulders loosened with every soft chuckle, melting into his mattress as the warmth of the blankets envelop him. The soft breaths soon morph to gentle snores and in minutes, the lull of sleep pulls him under.

…

The piercing sound of shattering glass snaps Otis wide awake. He springs upright in bed, his heart pounds at his ribcage, racing a mile a minute. He sits as still as a statue for a moment, frozen solid in fear, cold sweat drenching through to the bedsheets. His eyes dart around, frantically searching the darkness. And then he hears it again. Another crash. Louder this time. The alcohol seems to dissolve in his bloodstream, the adrenaline sobers him in the blink of an eye.

Someone’s breaking in.

Gruff, mumbling voices whisper downstairs, then comes the creaks of the floorboards beneath cautious, tiptoed footsteps. Otis can feel his stomach twist and turn, pinching into a knot as bile rises to his throat. From head to toe, his body trembles so much he’s vibrating.

There’s nothing worth stealing. Nothing. No rolls of money stashed anywhere and even the damn TV is ancient technology. He can’t hope and pray that they’ll take something shiny that catches their eye and let it out the back door. They’re going to search. Turn the house upside down, scour from top to bottom. And they will find him. Sooner or later.

Otis’ ears prick at the groan of the stairs, the same step halfway up that always creaks when he usually stumbles down half-awake for midnight snacks. His body jumps into action before his mind can comprehend that he’s even moving. Otis races towards his wardrobe and throws himself to the floor, ducking his head underneath the dangling clothes on hangers. He swiftly drags the doors shut as quickly and quietly as he can possibly manage - submerging himself in pitch-black darkness. Otis folds to his knees and peeks through the slats of the wardrobe doors.

The doorknob to the bedroom rattles and twists, and then it swings open. Two tall, muscular men, dressed in all black come storming through. Searching the room, ripping off the covers from the bed and rummaging through all of Otis’ belongings. They sift through his drawers, pulling photo frames off the wall and smashing them on the ground.

A choked sob tries to claw its way through Otis’ throat. He slams his clammy palm over his quivering lips to trap his own cries. Squeezing his eyes shut and pressing a tear from underneath. Snot trickles down from his nose, his chest heaving.

He’s panicking, he knows. Freaking the fuck out. How the hell are you supposed to stay calm in these situations?! Help is out of the question. His phone is still charging on the bed stand, he didn’t think of swiping it when he dove into the wardrobe. He didn’t think! He just did! He should have leapt out the window and crawled his way to safety, broken bones and all. Now he’ll be on the front page of the newspaper.... ‘Male found dead in burglary gone wrong’.

“Don’t be shy, little buddy. Come out and play!” One of the intruders calls out with a dark chuckle, suddenly squatting to check underneath the bed like he was so certain Otis would be huddled underneath there. Otis’ eyes blow wide, shuffling further back into the wardrobe. The dark figures circle his bedroom, and one of them heads straight towards him. Striding towards Otis’ hiding spot.

A dizziness spins in his head and the stuffy air around him feels suddenly suffocating. Otis traps his breath in his lungs.

He’s going to die- oh god help him, they’re going to find him-

Otis screams his lungs out as the wardrobe doors swing open with a bang against the wall, a beam of light from a torch blinds his tear-filled eyes. The intruder smiles down at him, a terrifying look of amusement sparks in his eyes as he stares down at Otis cowering on the floor.

"Boo! Comfy, little one?" the intruder asks, his voice dripping with sickly-sweet sarcasm.

Otis doesn't say a thing. He can't. He's paralyzed with fear. His mouth blubbers open like a fish out of water. He just gawks up at the intruder, his eyes wide and bloodshot with terror.

The intruder laughs, a cruel, mocking sound. "Don't worry your pretty little head," he says. "We’re not going to hurt you. Not yet, anyway. Why rush the fun? We’ll have all the time in the world."

He reaches down and snatches Otis by the arm, hauling him to his feet. Otis cries out in pain as the intruder's grip digs deep, bruising into his flesh. He kicks and flails with every ounce of energy he’s got. They overpower him easily, without so much as busting a sweat. Every hit and swipe must feel like a tickle of a feather to the burly man. They throw Otis carelessly onto the bed, shoving him down onto the mattress and snatching his flailing arms to pin his wrists above his head. The man’s entire weight crushes Otis as he climbs on top.

“NO- FUCK- LEMME GO!” Otis roars, his voice breaking into a high-pitched squeal, and squirming underneath the intruder’s hold. Hot tears spill down his cheeks. “PLEASE! TAKE WHAT YOU WANT AND GO-”

The intruder shoves his hand over Otis’ mouth to muffle his cries, “Shut him up-” he growls the order to his accomplice. The other intruder quickly fishes around in his duffle bag until he holds up a leather muzzle, dangling it from his hands. Otis lets out a blood curdling shriek beneath the man’s sweaty palm, bucking his hips on the bed and writhing desperately. He clamps his jaw shut, grinding his teeth and shaking his head from side to side - refusing to let them strap that vile thing in his mouth. Fingers pinch his nostrils shut, another hand pries and rips at his jaw to pull his mouth open.

The accomplice swarms in to wrap his hands around Otis’ throat, squeezing until he rasps and wheezes on stolen air, the pinky-hue of colour fades from his face until his skin turns porcelain white. A metal bit forces its way through his parted lips and presses down on his tongue, the leather muzzle swallows the lower half of his face. Any desperate sound he tries to make gets lost in the abyss - he can only huff furiously through his nose.

“You’re exhilarating when you cry, aren’t ya, lil buddy?” the intruder marvels, he wipes at the wet droplets collecting on Otis’ eye bags and licks the salty tears from his finger. “Would you look at those puppy dog eyes?”

This can’t be happening. This can’t be real. Panic fogs Otis’ spinning mind and clouds every rational thought. It’s - It’s a nightmare, it has to be!… the wine must have dragged him into a heavy, disturbed slumber. Or the stress! Maybe it’s taking more of a toll on him than he thought.

“Nah-ah. Focus on me, sweetheart,” The intruder croons, his fingertip dabs at the tears slipping down Otis’ puffy, rosy cheeks. Otis’s eyes stay glued shut, squeezed tight until his bloodshot eyeballs feel like they might pop out of his sockets and burst. Muggy breath wafts hot against the leather muzzle, welded to his face with sweat. Thick trickles of drool slip from his quivering lips, his teeth scraping on the bit.

He pants and heaves for air beneath the muzzle. The heat is unbearable, and the sweat drips down his face, stinging his eyes. Blood rushes to his head and his heart pounds in his chest.

Otis’ eyes shoot open. But he wishes he stayed hidden behind the safety of darkness behind his eyelids, where he doesn’t have to face reality. Where he can’t see the stranger pinning him down with a wolfish grin.

“Good boy,” the intruder praises, cool as ice, stroking his hand through Otis’ sweat drenched hair, “I knew you’d be an angel for us. Picked a good-un, didn’t I?”

It’s sickening. Every touch revolts and terrifies Otis’, making his stomach do somersaults. A petrified whimper makes it through the gag, and he winces. He’s never heard a person whimper before…never heard himself whimper before. The sound is so foreign to him, so out of place, that it took him a moment to realise it was actually coming from him. He was whimpering like a child, like a wounded animal.Like a dog. He can't stop it. The pain is too much, the fear too overwhelming.

The intruder climbs off Otis’ body, and forcefully rolls him over and face down, shoving him onto his belly. His wrists are seized in an iron grip, and wrangled from stretched high above his head to criss-crossed over the small of his back. Otis sobs into the bedding his face is shoved into. The stranger splays his warm hand between Otis’ shoulder blades, and slides painfully slow down his spine. Every nerve-ending lights up, his skin crawls and twitches.

“You’re going to do nicely. Sweet little thing like you. You’re going to be the perfect pet,” the stranger purrs.

Pet.

Otis’ vision dips to black. He just felt his soul leave his body. He felt himself floating upwards, and out, away from his body. He looked down and saw himself lying pinned on the bed, lifeless. Hopeless.

A leather cuff slips over each wrist, strapped tight before being linked together with a chain in between. Otis tugs at the restraints with all the strength he can muster, his muscles bulge and his veins pop as he strains against them. Sweat beads on his forehead and his breath comes in ragged gasps.

The accomplice jingles something beside the bed to grab Otis’ attention. Otis’ twists his head, writhing on the bed to look…and then a guttural scream rockets up his throat, shaking his head so violently that his sight mists.

A collar. With a silver, engraved dog tag dangling from it.

“If you’ll do the honours…” the intruder nods to his accomplice, giving him the greenlight. He swiftly fastens the dog collar around Otis’ throat, buckling the band until Otis chokes and cries out behind the bit, before he finally loosens it, allowing him to suck in air again. His cheeks burn cherry red beneath the muzzle with shame. His humanity stripped away from him with only a few instruments, he’s entirely at these bastards mercy.

“Guess what your dog tag says, boy! Go on!”

Otis lets out a pitiful whine, shaking his head trying to free himself of the muzzle. His hair flops around like a dog drying their fur.

“Oh right. I forgot. Guess I’ll have to tell you!” The intruder elates, grabbing Otis by the collar and spinning it around his neck to grab hold of the tag.

“Pup. If found, return to Master Becker.”

They must be able to clock the look of pure terror on Otis’ face, his eyes streaming with tears, nostrils flaring.

“Oh, that’s me, by the way. I’m your new owner, little one.”

This is insane. No-one can own him. He is his own person, with thoughts and feelings and dreams. They have no right to take that away from him. To beat him down to nothing more than a tamed, defenceless animal.

He won’t give up easily. He will not back down, and he will never surrender, no matter what the odds. He will fight back at every twist and turn, until the very end.

“Let’s wrap it up here. Grab the legs. I’ll take his arms,” Becker barks. Otis is lifted into the air, the accomplice grabbing his kicking feet and Becker hooking his arms under Otis' armpits.

Otis struggles and flails, but he was no match for the two men. They carry him effortlessly, as if he were a small child. Otis's head lolls back, and he closes his eyes, feeling helpless and defeated. He knows that there is nothing he could do to stop them. They are going to take him away, and there is nothing he could do about it. They carry him out the room, making their way downstairs and back down that creaking step.

It might be the last time he’ll ever hear it. He already misses it-

They drop Otis’ to his feet when they reach the final step, but he crashes to the floor in a sobbing heap. Every muscle gives out on him, he slumps like dead weight. Becker wrenches his fist in Otis’ hair and drags him back up and standing, and forces him to stumble towards the door.

When the door opens, there’s a black van parked outside. Right under the streetlamp. It’s running, its engine’s quiet hums cut through the silence of the night like a knife. Otis’ breath sprints away from him, he screams again, his legs go to give out - but Becker catches him in his arms.

He massages Otis’ Adam's apple, bobbing beneath the collar, with his calloused palm, “Breathe, boy. Do as you're told.”

Otis quickly shakes his head 'no'. Not that he won't, but he can't. Every breath is ten times harder than the last, his chest heaves and his lungs burn. Spots dance in his vision.

Becker pulls a strip of cloth from his pocket, and ties it over Otis’ swollen and tear-filled eyes, blindfolding him, “Calm down. You needn’t ever worry about anything else. Just listen to my voice, heed my word as gospel. Only me. Only my voice. And nothing else ever again. Until that ticker in your chest rusts and stalls to its final seconds.”

Otis keens, shredding his throat with his garbled cry. He collapses into Becker's arms once more, as he rubs meant-to-be soothing circles and pats Otis' back. Shushing him as he wails.

“Hush, little puppy. Stop your whining. Let’s get you to your new home,” Becker coos, tugging at Otis’ collar.

#SS In July 2023

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nikavit · 29 days

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It was late night.. I hear door bell and when I open the door, you just step in barely standing on your feet.. Another night in fight club.. Living next door to me, you never talk to me more, than few words each time we see each other, but I have noticed you with cuts and bruises multiple times.. This time everything went wrong, I guess..

-Whumpee?? W-what's wrong with you??

You said nothing, kneeling on the floor, and coughing blood, with hands embraced your stomach, and lean forward.. I kneel next to you, holding you from falling on the floor face down.. Slightly slapping your cheeks didn't bring you to conscious and I have to lay you down and run after water..

When I came back, it feels like you're not breathing.. I lean closer, holding my head over your nose and mouth, watching your bare torso same time.. I can't hear your breath..

Then I put my ear to your chest, over your heart, and hear your heartbeat.. too fast, compared to mine, which is pounding in my heart at this moment..

I quickly tilt your head and push to your chin, opening your mouth.. Cut on your lower lip start bleeding.. I didn't pay attention to that and push my lips to your mouth tightly, pinching your nose before that.. I hold my another hand under your cheen, holding your head steady, whyle I inhale the air.. Your cheeks bulg, your chest expand, than shrink again, exhaling the air.. I inhale again, trying to blow as much air, as possible.. Our lips are intimately interlocked and I can feel salty taste of your blood.. I slide my thumb, cleaning thin trace of blood from your cheen, then keep stroking your fresh shaved skin, whyle I do resuscitation..

Each time I inhale the air, your chest raises, exposing well pumped muscular torso, which I was admiring, each time I see you.. But now, topless, it looks gorgeous..

-C'mon, Whumpee, breath for me!!

I digg my knuckles in your sternum, rubbing, trying to make you breath..

You remain the same.. I gently hold your wrist, feeling your pulse under my fingers, than start resuscitation again..

When I inhale next time, you exhale yourself, making few deep breathes, before you start coughing..

-Sh-shhhh!! Calm down, it's ok, you're ok, I got you..

I stroke your hair, holding my another hand on your chest..

You stare at me, like have never seen me before.. probably, smashed red lipstick, messy hair and fear in my eyes make you worry..

-What happened, why am I here??

You asked me and I hear, that your voice sounds strange, like if you have to push yourself to talk..

-You knocked my door few minutes before.. How do you feel yourself, where is it hurt?? You weren't breathing, what happened to you??

You look at me few moments, like if trying to decide did I deserved to trust me.. Finally you give up and answer..

-I fought.. I guess my ribs are broken and it hurts like hell.. But please, don't call ambulance, I can't go to hospital.. The fight was illegal..

-Ok, let me help you..

I hold your arm pulling you to sit up.. Then I help you to lean on my shoulder and stand, so we can walk to the living room, where you lay on the sofa.. Then I bring you a bag with ice for your ribs and painkillers, which you drink immediately, then tilted back your head with closed eyes.. For a moment I thought, that you lost your consciousness again, but you moan and put away the bag with ice..

-Ok, let it go, I will put ointment on your bruises tomorrow, -I said.- Now take some rest, I'll be by your side..

-Mhm..

You said, even not opening your eyes..

I push the armchair closer to the sofa and sit next to you, cheking your breath and heartbeat from time to time.. You fall asleep with curled legs and embracing your torso, moaning and whimpering in your sleep.. I spend the night on armchair next to you..

#whump #whump scenario #resuscitation #cpr resus

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prodigal-explorer · 9 months

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i resent the fact that in the whump community, small people are always victims while larger people are always threats. small people have just as much potential to be whumpers and larger people have just as much potential to be whumpees. this concept below is an example of how terrifying a reverse size difference can truly be.

cw for antagonistic patton, abuse/whump, and gaslighting and victim-blaming.

sanders sides whump concept in which patton is very small and petite, and he's seen as this sweet, innocent little angel. but in reality, he's quite abusive. take roman for instance. the prince, who's supposed to be big and strong to represent bravery. or virgil, the protector, who's supposed to be muscular and powerful.

imagine the possibilities that come with patton showing these two that there are ways to hurt somebody besides using brute strength. and when they try to tell somebody that patton's hurting them, nobody believes them.

"oh, please, patton wouldn't hurt a fly! besides, he's much smaller than you. how much damage could he really do?"

"if anything, he's the one who should be afraid of you, what, with your size difference!"

and to rub salt into the wound, maybe patton body-shames his victims and makes them believe the situation is their fault.

"maybe if you lost a couple, you wouldn't be in this situation for as long as you have. consider this inspiration."

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blackrosesandwhump · 2 years

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Uncommon Whump Tropes

I compiled the answers to my recent uncommon whump trope question into a list for everyone's reference. Enjoy!

CW: very brief mentions of teeth whump, minor whump, female whumpees, noncon body modification

Feral hissy kitten whumpees, the bitey scratchy ones who scream incoherently at their rescuer/caretaker rather than use their talking words. The ones who can’t be made to understand they’re not going to be hurt anymore

Medieval fantasy dungeon/torture chambers

Female whumpee and platonic male caretaker

When person 1 passes something to person 2, via kiss or other pda, to help P2 escape somewhere, especially if there had been some kind of prior misunderstanding between them

Good old-fashioned chloroforming

Mind control and mind control-adjacent tropes like hypnosis

Whumpers who are subtlety scary

Childhood trauma/minor whump

Whipping

Teeth whump

Older whumpees

Whumpees who aren't conventionally attractive

Non-“innocent sweetie” whumpees: bastards, confused himbos, feral ladies, baffled aristocrats, tormented monsters, traumatized immortals, frightened Everyday Gals who react by throwing things and yelling, questionable antiheroes

Whumpees who turn bitter. Whumpees who are angry and complicated. Recoveries that are tough. Caretakers that don’t know what to do because a little nice touch and sweet words aren’t enough

Captive whumpees that slowly manipulate the situation they're in, gaining enough favor and trust with the whumper till it's the right moment for the tables to be turned and whumpee can get their revenge

Snakes used on the whumpee

Female whumpees

Small whumpers

Whumpers that aren't the physically stronger ones

Whumpees who aren't honorable, who lie and scheme and cheat their way out of their bad situation

Whumpees who aren't defiant, because they're smart enough to know all that defiance will get them is more pain. They aren't stoic because they know the whumper wants to hear them begging and crying

Manipulative whumpees. They bend, pretending to break, until their whumper gives them an opening

Villain whumpers who aren’t interested in captivity. They just love to antagonize the hero, do they care about stealing or blowing up the city, no not that much. But they love getting on hero’s nerves and beating them and mentally dragging them down until they can hardly do it anymore, and then just moving onto a new hero when it gets to boring for them

Androids, or human whumpees inside mech suits that get ripped to shreds during a fight so that the circuitry is exposed

Average whumpees, whumpees who aren’t super muscular and have more realistic proportions, whether they are large, medium, or small

Caretaker with some sort of trauma already in their past, and they’re desperate to protect whumpee, who’s probably someone older. The caretaker— having been scarred and trying to grasp at any bonds they have made as comfort— takes care of the person who should probably be taking care of them, and then, when the whumper comes in and does what they know best, the caretaker goes ballistic. They do unexpected, dangerous things to themselves behind whumpee’s back. They get themselves so deep in their deals with whumper just to be able to get whumpee out, because caretaker would inflict pain on an entire continent before letting whumpee go. And when the whumpee’s out, caretaker is too far in to turn back now… maybe they’ll force the whumpee back, they’ll be safer with them anyways…

Monster whump. More claws, wings, fur, long ears, tails

More queerplatonic Whumpee/Caretaker relationships

Female whump (that isn't non-con). Ladies can break their arms and get kicked in the gut too

Being conditioned into submission and having trouble shaking it, i.e. even days after the shock collar has been removed they still almost never speak unless spoken to

Human experimentation

Unique stress positions, especially ones where the pain builds up over time

Noncon body modification, but more extreme than piercings & tattoos, e.g. wings/ears/tails/etc, or cybernetic things

Sci-fi themed whump that's not about androids

Whump involving timelines, time loops, alternate universes and other stuff like that

Physical signs of whump for supernatural whump that aren’t scars or lost body parts, like changed eye colors or new appendages or like marks on your soul

Forced mind control self-whump while the caretaker watches but doesn't know they're under mind control, or even a non-consensual situation because it's just barely mild-looking enough until the caretaker leaves because they really thought they were doing the right thing by trying to step in but they were told they were just interrupting and now they feel bad. And the whumpee has no idea what’s going on but when they come to and are being weakly willful to the whumper but they are informed that the caretaker saw and didn’t care, breaking the last part of the whumpee’s will that was barely holding out

More accidental trauma reveal

Lab whump

Lady whump (and lab lady whump)

Feral whumpees

Spitting blood

That trope where the group has to explore their loved one’s mindscape to save them and secret trauma is revealed in their memories

Being presented with a fear that is wholly mind numbing and the annoying character not poking fun at the one that's scare

“Phantom pain” but not in the traditional amputee sense, e.g. whumpee’s arm gets cut off in a corrupted video game and he still feels the pain of it IRL despite his real-life arm being intact…or alternative forms perhaps being: sharing a soul with someone and feeling the pain that they feel, characters with past lives feeling old injuries from their predecessors, or a mecha story where damage done to the mech is felt by its pilot

The plot allowing enough time for a newly disfigured character to process and grieve over their new appearance, e.g. Spiderman 3; the worst/best part is Peter did this to him, which adds that best-friends-do-permanent-damage-to-each-other-but-they-remain-good-friends layer. They could overcome that sense of betrayal, even if Harry ended up dying

Character getting kidnapped while sick

Teams saving someone from hypothermia

Colleagues as caretakers

Seizure aftercare

Dehydration after a long spell somewhere hot, like working hard outside, and whumpee doesn’t feel the heat exhaustion and dehydration creep up on them, which can lead to a fever

General extremes of heat, when someone pushes their own body to the limit and doesn’t realize until it’s too late, and their coworkers and friends have to pick up the pieces, leading to some pretty difficult conversations about looking after yourself and listening to your own needs

Whumpee leaves or disappears and after some time is found again with a big injury by caretaker with no context

Brainwashed Whumpee randomly switching between their brainwashed personality and their original one. Top tier: the original is stoic and grouchy but the brainwashed is either really goofy or lovey-dovey - and their loved ones go from finding this funny, to finding it unsettling because the original personality is reacting to it with terror

Shapeshifting whumpers. Whumpers that can effortlessly infiltrate and adapt to whumpees' friend circle even before (or after) whump. Whumpers that shapeshift into whumpee's loved ones during whump. Whumpers that basically catfish whumpee by turning into multiple different people and all "befriending" Whumpee, just to see the look on whumpee's face after the "I have friends who will find me" moment

Older pet whumpees, e.g. pets on the verge of being put down or past their prime time of use being berated for being so slow and weak and useless. Pets knowing they’re on borrowed time and knowing that their master is so merciful as to keep their worthless ass alive

Impalement through the neck/strung up by the neck

Being forced to apologize to everyone for making them worry while you were being tortured/otherwise suffering

Whumpees who aren't male and white

Redeemed villains that are too scared to ask for help and they end up hiding all their injuries from the hero(es)

TW: noncon/abuse/nsfw

Tickling, either consensually dubcon or against whumpee's will

More nsfw/dubcon (basically noncon but the whumpee doesn't really have a choice to resist)

Noncon touching (SEXUAL)

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