#beating whump
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Vignette #8
Contents: anxiety/panic attack, crying, traumatic memories, mentions of past torture (whipping, cutting, beating), startle response, multiple caretakers, angry caretaker (angry at whumper not whumpee)
Whumpee felt their chest begin to tighten, breathing becoming shallow and erratic. Tears began to form in the corners of their eyes as Whumpee attempted to quell the panic that tried to crawl its way out of their chest…
They curled up in a ball on the back seat of the car with their hands pressed firmly over their ears. Tears flowed freely down their face, dropping to stain the seat below. Sobs wrenched their way from Whumpee’s chest and the pressure in their head made them moan in pain…
Whumpee couldn't focus on anything other than the rapid pounding of their heart in their chest. Their mind flashed with images in rapid-fire succession of Whumper looming over them, hand around their neck, knife carving skillfully into the tender skin of their chest. A whip cracking down across their back. Endless blows raining down from above. All manner of horrors cycled through Whumpee’s head like a broken record, a form of torture all in its own…
As Caretaker A and Caretaker B approached the car they could tell immediately that something was wrong. Whumpee was not sitting in the back seat as they had left them. At first A worried that Whumpee had run off, but as they got closer they saw them lying on the back seat, knees tucked to their chest and arms wrapped around their head protectively.
"Jesus..." A muttered, but didn't bother to finish their sentence. They jogged the last few steps to the car and yanked the door open.
Whumpee's chest heaved with laboured breaths, each one punctuated by a slight wheeze. Their muscles were rigid and their hands gripped their hair painfully tight.
"Whumpee?" A called out to no response. Reaching into the back seat, A placed a gentle hand on Whumpee’s shoulder.
Whumpee gasped and scrambled away faster than A would have thought possible, slamming into the other door in their attempt to escape. They huddled there, pressing themself into the corner, eyes darting around wildly without focusing on anything.
"Woah, Whumpee, it's alright," B said from over A's shoulder.
Whumpee shook their head and closed their eyes tight. Much to A’s horror, Whumpee began muttering under their breath. A leaned in closer to hear and very quickly wished they hadn't. What they heard were soft pleas of "please, don't hurt me. I don't know what I did but I won't do it again, I promise. I'll do whatever you want. Please don't. Please, I-"
A stepped back out of the car, rubbing a hand across their forehead. Their chest burned with anger, and in a fit of rage they spun around and punched the side of the car with a yell. They immediately regretted the action as pain shot through their fist and up their arm, making them groan through gritted teeth.
B put their hands on A's shoulders and pulled them away from the car, having seen how Whumpee flinched and cowered even more at the noise.
"A," B said seriously, spinning them around to face them. A met B’s eyes, lips a thin line. "You're not helping. You need to calm down."
A's face softened and they nodded. "I know, I know. I'm sorry."
B nodded sympathetically. They understood all too well why A was so angry. What had happened to Whumpee was nothing short of horrific. B was equally mortified, but it was too late to change what had happened. What was important now was to stay calm and help Whumpee through whatever was going on inside their head.
A took several deep breaths to calm themself before returning to the car. They lowered themself gently to the seat and faced Whumpee, keeping their distance so as not to crowd the other person.
"Whumpee," they said softly. "It's A. B is here too. You're safe here with us, Whumpee."
The muttering died down, and A smiled a little. "Yeah, that's it. No one's going to hurt you here. Do you think you can open your eyes for me?"
Slowly, cautiously, Whumpee did as they were asked. They were met with A's worried eyes and gentle smile. As they glanced out the door they found B’s face wore much the same expression. Finally able to focus on something other than the memories, Whumpee felt the anxiety in their chest ease little by little. Their breathing calmed and they became aware of the pounding headache they always got after crying.
On impulse, Whumpee essentially dove across the seat into A. A huffed out a surprised laugh and wrapped their arms around Whumpee, rubbing their back soothingly. Whumpee melted into the embrace, timing their breaths to match the rise and fall of A's chest against their cheek.
They stayed like that for a few minutes as Whumpee calmed down. Eventually, they pulled back.
A smiled at them. "Better?"
Whumpee nodded, cheeks flushing as embarrassment set in.
"Hey," A said, noticing the change in demeanour. "It's alright, yeah?"
Whumpee nodded again, relaxing a little in relief. "Yeah. I'm sorry. I just, uh... sorta freaked out."
A smiled warmly, ruffling Whumpee’s hair. “No apologies necessary. I’m just glad you’re okay. B, let’s get them back home, eh?”
B nodded and climbed into the drivers seat, kicking the car into gear. Somewhere along the way home, Whumpee fell asleep against A’s shoulder.
• • •
Fin
#whump#whump vignette#multiple caretakers#whumper#whumpee#psychological whump#emotional whump#past torture#cutting whump#whipping whump#beating whump#whump writing#angry caretaker#recovery whump
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[Fight] Flight Freeze Fawn
cw: explicit language, implied human trafficking, abduction, drugging, defiant whumpee, mentions of vomit/vomiting, beating whump, hand-to-hand combat, blood, bodily injuries (not gory), mentions of future female whump at the end.
When he’d first started, Clarke had assumed that the big, frat boy types would be the hardest to get. Their athletic bodies made them prime real estate, so to speak, but that also meant they would be hard to subdue and transport; they couldn’t easily be snatched off the street or thrown into the trunk of a car.
However, these types also tended to party, and they made themselves easy targets by never paying attention to their drinks. They weren’t vigilant like girls were told they needed to be. Their physical strength, and the audacity it gave them, became their downfall. After all, a little dose of K doesn’t discriminate, and Clarke could quickly swoop in and transform into a concerned friend helping his inebriated buddy get back home. The men could be easily guided into the backseat of his car and driven off. Then, out came the zip ties, with their wrists bound before they could process what was happening.
Clarke’s night was going smoothly: he’d managed to guide his newest catch into the backseat of his car with the help of another partygoer, a real Good Samaritan type. Clarke patted down the intoxicated man the best he could, pocketing his wallet, keys, and phone. A quick peek in the wallet told him the man’s name was Amir and he was in his prime at 23. As Clarke drove away, he started trying to calculate just how much his payout on this job would be.
Clarke was halfway to the drop off point, an empty warehouse on the outskirts of the city’s port, when Amir began to come back to himself in the backseat. Thankfully, Clarke had remembered to line the seats and floor in plastic covers, as the last one he’d had back there threw up all over the upholstery, and themselves, almost suffocating in their own sick. Clarke had to detail the seats three times for the smell to finally disappear, and that idiot had to be stripped and hosed down in the warehouse before they could see the buyers.
“Who are… what’s going—” Amir slurred.
“It’s all good dude,” Clarke assured, cursing himself for not realizing he should’ve upped the jock’s dose, because of course this meathead had to have a fast metabolism.
Clarke slowly drove through the warehouse loading doors, his headlights illuminating a group of men gathered around a crooked card table, a game of poker laid before them.
Amir was quiet again in the backseat when Clarke slipped out of the car. When he opened the backdoor, he was met with a battering ram of muscle. Amir had lunged out of his seat, knocking them both over, with Clarke now pinned to the dirty warehouse floor.
Before Clarke could regain his bearings, Amir bashed his bound hands down on Clarke’s head. Even though the man was sluggish from the drugs, his blows were still plenty powerful.
Reaching for Amir’s bound wrists, Clarke managed to catch them before he landed another blow. Clarke gritted his teeth, feeling his veins bulge in his neck, as he wedged a knee under Amir’s hip and tossed him to the side.
Amir landed with a heavy thud and Clarke quickly scrambled on top of Amir, one knee pressing down onto the man’s stomach.
“Stay down you piece of shit,” Clarke spat, the taste of sweat and dirt mingling on his lips.
“Hnngh—fuck you,” Amir groaned, wrestling his wrists from Clarke’s grasp.
Clarke could feel Amir’s muscles roil and writhe under his knee. He could feel each stuttering inhale of the lungs, with each exhalation compressing them more and more.
Smack.
Clarke fell on his side, pain radiating through his jaw from Amir’s harsh blow. The taste of blood overwhelmed him and he let out a raggedy breath, watching as Amir did the same.
Clarke swiped a dirty hand over his forehead, brushing away the sweaty locks that tickled his brow.
He hadn’t noticed Amir quickly jump to his feet until a sharp kick knocked the wind from Clarke’s body.
Two more blows came in quick succession until Amir seemed sure that Clarke would stay down. Amir turned to the men standing by the card table, all of whom hadn’t bothered to move an inch as they fought. His eyes flared in challenge, expecting them to advance.
However, the men remained at their game, so Amir cautiously turned to the open loading door, not noticing how close Clarke’s outstretched hands were to his foot.
Amir fell hard, bound hands failing to catch himself when he collided with the concrete.
Ignoring the growing throbbing of his abdomen, Clarke climbed onto Amir’s upper back, firmly planting his knees on each side.
“Get—get off me!” Amir grunted.
“No fucking chance,” Clarke hissed, fingers tangling into Amir’s hair.
He yanked Amir’s head back before bashing his face into the concrete: once, twice, three times, until Clarke heard the distinctive crunch of a nose breaking, and his squirming finally ceased beneath him.
Clarke stood, spitting out dirt and blood onto Amir’s back. He limped over to his car, grabbing a new pair of zip ties to bind Amir’s ankles.
The men were still playing their game of poker, so Clarke dragged the unconscious Amir over to them. Grabbing a bottle from the table, he took a swig of what he assumed was the worst scotch ever made, and spat it back out on the ground.
“You broke his nose,” a man, someone Clarke had never seen before, said.
“Maybe that wouldn’t’ve happened if one of you assholes stepped up to help,” Clarke grumbled.
“Eh, c’mon, we knew you could handle the bastard,” Don, Clarke’s usual contact, said. “If he wasn’t cuffed, maybe I’d’ve lended you a hand.”
“Yeah, fuck you too, Don,” Clarke replied. “Just give me my cut, alright?”
“Yeah, yeah,” Don sighed, pulling a wad of cash from his pocket. “I know it’s past your bedtime, kid. Unfortunately, we will have to dock you for the nose—these pretty types ain’t worth much if they ain’t pretty—but I got another request for you that we need by next weekend. Just your usual: a young girl, healthy, thin, pretty—of course—”
Clarke’s eyes squinted. “How young we talking here, Don?”
“Please, we’re not monsters! Just another co-ed, like our friend here,” Don assured.
Clarke let out a heavy sigh, his battered abdomen aching. “Fine, I’ll get one by next weekend.”
Clarke took one last look at Amir, slumped over in the rusted folding chair, before he returned to his car and drove off into the night.
It’s just a job, Clarke told himself. What happens to them when I’m done, that’s none of my problem. My hands are clean.
He glanced down at the steering wheel: his knuckles white, dirt brown, and blood red.
#whump#whump writing#my writing#honeybunny og#drugging#drugging whump#whump community#fighting whump#beating whump#defiant whumpee#human trafficking whump#abduction whump#kidnapping whump#whumpblr#whump story#whump series#yes this is yet another series#but it's a short story series with a definitive plan and ending so i might actually write it lmao#i promise i'm actually writing the next part of Tell Me
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Blindfold your whumpees.
Tie their hands together over their head, and put those bindings onto a hook dangling from the roof so that their hands are secured above their head and they can't move away, then blindfold them. Leave them there until they're so tired they'd fall asleep if they could, then beat them up. Punch them in the stomach, and watch them be unable to curl up to protect themself, or use a crowbar if you want more force. Watch them work themself into a panic trying to anticipate and brace for the next blow, then strike at where they're most vulnerable. Rinse and repeat until satisfied.
Bonus marks if whumpee's arms are secured in a way that forces them to stand on their tiptoes in order to relieve the weight pulling on their shoulders, and with every blow they take they lose their balance and have to frantically resume their tiptoe position before their shoulder gets dislocated.
#whump#whump scenario#whump prompt#whumpblr#stress position#tw implied beating#blindfolded whump#guess who's finally back and posted original content after months
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you know what I love?
a fucking maintenance beating.
whumpee didn’t do anything wrong, at least, not that they can remember. but tracing back in their memories is hard when they’re constantly getting kicked into the ground.
but this isn’t a punishment. they’ve been perfectly well behaved, as a matter of fact.
no, this beating isn’t corrective. it’s preventative.
whumper just does it to keep them in line.
#akia.txt#hbd emmett my bestest shiniest birthday boy <33#I have so many text posts in the drafts#like— hundreds#finally got my meds refilled so#I will try to post more later <33#whump prompt#thoughts from the sadist brain#maintenance beating#beatdown
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The people have spoken! This year's Whump March Madness winner is...
Drugged!!!
Thank you for another great year!
Here are 6 excellent druggings for you to watch (or rewatch):
~Stranger Things, 3x06
~The Man From UNCLE (2015)
~White Collar, 1x10
~Endeavour, 4x02
~Constantine, 1x03
~9-1-1: Lone Star, 3x12
#whump march madness#whump march madness 2024#whump march madness results#whump#whump community#drugged#tw needles#tw syringe#tw injection#collapse#beat up#blood#bruises#stranger things#the man from uncle#white collar#endeavour#constantine#911 lone star#whump gifs
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before episode 34: Kekera is the only fan of this godforsaken show who has a remotely healthy relationship with media.
after episode 34: frogman what have you done
#art#kamen rider#geats#geats spoilers#kekera: (whispering to beroba) see it's called whump...#i mean between ziin who 100% gets into internet arguments about how ace could totally beat up super saiyan goku#and mr. whoops-i-keep-accidentally-negging-my-waifu kyuun#kekera is still kind of the normal one#i guess it is canon that they forgot to give future people any empathy#anyway rip ben and john. you were defeated immediately and offscreen and honestly that feels about right.#i'm waiting in vain for sae to come back. where is she.
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Whump prompt #65
The kick to their stomach blasted all air from their lungs, forced their body to curl up into a ball, a feeble attempt to protect their already battered bones.
They mewled a protest when they saw him raise his leg and they flinched, curling up even further. But his boot didn't stomp down like they expected; it settled almost gently against their shoulder and pushed them onto their back.
He settled over them, straddling their waist, grabbed their chin when they peeked a glance and forced them to look straight at him.
"Are those tears I spot, hm? Tears of pain?"
He brushed a finger up over their cheekbone, hummed when it remained dry and he noticed it was merely a glint in their eyes.
"My mistake." And he pulled back a fist. "Not yet, I guess."
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just the visual of whumpee's limp, bloodied and bruised frame supported by two of whumper's henchmen, red dripping onto the floor from whumpee's mouth as they hunch forward weakly in the grasp of the two men, unable to keep themselves conscious any longer
and whumper towering over their slouched figure.
#whump#whump prompt#whump trope#whump tropes#whump prompts#whump scenario#whump scenes#whump writing#whump snippet#whumpee#whumper#whump blog#whump community#whumpblr#implied beating
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I see your "pet whump", and I raise you "Character A is pretending to be Character B's pet so they can go undercover"
Optional bonus angst includes:
- A is notorious for being anti-pet, so to make the cover work, they have to convince everyone they've had their memories wiped and truly believe they themselves are a pet.
- Even though A 'has no memory of it', the criminals they're after take full advantage of their new status to get revenge. A has the skills to fight back, but if they did, they'd blow the mission, so they just have to take it.
- B has to allow this treatment in order to win trust and successfully infiltrate the organization. The most they can do to protect A is tell the criminals to "not break my toy".
- B gets kidnapped, not because their cover is blown, but because one of the criminals sees them as a potential threat to their role in the organization. A can't do anything to save them. If these people learn who they are, everything will get so much worse.
- To make it believable, A has to lean into the stereotypical behavior that's expected from most pets: sweet, eager-to-please, and easily cowed into submission. They absolutely hate it.
#whump prompt#pet whump#is there a trope name for 'cant fight back' because i love that one#when a character could easily win a fight but they just take the beating for whatever reason
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Whumpee shaking in their chains, bracing themself as well as they could muster as the whip fell again and again. Their back was in shreds, engulfed in pain that only seemed to grow and grow.
When whumper came to release their chains whumpee sobbed. Finally, finally, it was over.
But it wasn’t.
Whumper wasn’t taking them down, oh no, they hadn’t earned that yet.
No, whumper was simply adjusting them. Turning them. Preparing the skin on their chest and stomach for the last.
And somehow, that made the next strike even worse.
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you all like the trope of character being so delirious from their injuries that they don't realize someone on their team trying to help them, so they fight back, but I offer you: Character, delirious, weakly fighting someone trying to help them, but they finally recognize who it is and they fight even harder
#writing prompts#injury writing#whump#whump prompts#enemy to caretaker type beat#enemy to caretaker#enemies to allies#hurt/comfort#delirious character#injury whump#enemies to lovers#enemies to friends#hero villain writing#hero/villain#hero x villain
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GOd i fucking love it when they won't stay down
When the whumpee fights back and they know how it ends, blood, broken bones, restraints but they get back up again anyway because they won't, can't stay down. They're given an ultimatum and maybe it’s almost fair, they could take it, walk away with only shattered pride but they tear it up, put their fists up, because they won’t go down without a fight.
They’ve got a black eye, a split lip and their arm shouldn’t look like that but they’re taunting the whumper, make me, I dare you. Their knees buckle and they hit the ground but it doesn't stick. They’re begging but it’s a for another fight, another round.
Maybe there’s a loved one, maybe it’s for their team or maybe they just don’t know what’s good for them. But they’re back up, swaying, fists bunched, spitting blood, fiery eyes.
You want a fight? Come and get one
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Whump Prompt
Whumper tying Whumpee's legs together and their arms to their body behind their back, then looping a noose around their neck and tying it to their legs so they can't curl up/bend over without choking themselves. They can only stand straight/lie down while keeping their spine straight.
Now repeatedly push Whumpee to the floor and watch them hit the ground hard unable to break their fall with their hands, or kick them in torso area and watch them choke trying to curl up and protect their stomach.
#Whump#whump things#whump prompt#whump scenario#whumper#whump prompts#whumpee#stress position#tw beating
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A scream ripped from Sidekick's chest, their back slamming against the metal chair as Villains stalked closer. Sidekick heaved in breaths, squeezing their eyes shut as they whimpered, "Pl-please... i swear I don-don't know-"
Villain chuckled, "Don't worry, doll-face, I'm not as interested in Hero anymore, I'm more interested in you..."
Sidekick's eyes blew open as Villain's fingers curled around the edge of their mask. "Nonono, Vi-Villian don't you dare!"
"Oh, someone trying to be brave? How pathetic. Henchman, hold them still."
Two hands planted heavily at the nape of Sidekick's neck, keeping them still as Villain ripped off the Sidekick's mask. It took them a moment to take in the other's face, blood painting their face, complimenting the bright blue eyes that stared up at Villain in total fear.
"Oh darling," Villain cooed, "Aren't you just beautiful... Henchman, grab me the brass knuckles, I want them begging me for mercy by the time I am done with them"
---
continued on my patreon
#sidekick whumpee#villain whumper#hxv#brass knuckles#beating#whump#whumpee#whump drabble#whumper#whumpblr#whump community#whump writing#patreon#lee wrote something :o
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love the idea of multiple whumpees, but whumpee A has been there much longer than whumpee B, and is pretty much already a broken husk by the time B even gets there.
A just sort of stares vacantly ahead whenever whumper isn't directly demanding their attention, so lifeless that B would have thought they were dead if they couldn't see them blinking and breathing.
initially, B keeps their distance from A, unnerved by how completely and utterly broken they seemed. but as their captivity continues, they become so desperate for the touch of someone who won't harm them that they snuggle up to A whenever they can, and talk to them about all their worries and idle thoughts, even though they never say anything back and B wonders if they even hear them at all.
maybe B's company starts to bring A back to reality, ever so slowly. or maybe B is just clinging for emotional support to someone who's well and truly gone.
(these are just placeholder names not real ocs. arin and bee are stand ins for character a and b)
tw multiple whumpees, lady whumpee, fear of death, captivity, past trauma, beating, conditioning, dehumanisation, attacked by animals (referenced)
“I thought they’d never stop,” Bee whispered, hugging her only friend tighter. “They were so angry. They said they’d kill me, and… and I believed them. I thought I was done for. I thought that was the end of the rope for me.”
As usual, Arin didn’t respond. She stared at the ceiling, looking like she hadn’t even heard her. The only reason Bee was sure Arin could hear at all was because she responded to commands from their captor.
Bee knew all that she knew about Arin through their captor, actually. The poor thing had never spoken a word in her presence before, not to introduce herself, not to protest when she hugged her, nothing. She never even responded to Darian, and they didn’t seem to mind or be disturbed by it, so maybe this was normal. Maybe it wasn’t the trauma that stole her voice away. Bee would never know, it seemed like, unless she felt suicidal enough to question Darian about it.
“I don’t know what made them change their mind in the end… Maybe they just got tired of hitting me. I don’t know. I scurried out of there as soon as they left an opening, and they just didn’t follow.”
Sometimes she felt bad for dumping all this on Arin. She’d clearly gone through a lot to have ended up so… hollow. So utterly unresponsive, even to slapping and kicking. Darian barely even punished her, probably because there was no sign of it changing anything. Arin never apologised, never made a sound, and never changed her behaviour. She was perfectly obedient to begin with, and any mistake she made that was worthy of a punishment was the result of nothing but accidents. There was nothing to change.
And the thing was — Bee had no one else. Arin was her only companion, the only one to talk to who didn’t hurt her for it. It was a little like talking to her favourite plush toy, as mean as that sounded. It brought her immense comfort in a place where she knew nothing but suffering.
“I… Maybe I’m dumb for running back here instead of trying the front door. It could’ve been unlocked this time, and I’d never know.” She nuzzled against Arin, tears pricking her eyes. “But I thought— I thought, ‘I have to protect Arin. I can’t just try to leave, and, and leave her with this angry monster’. So I ran back here.”
Honestly, Bee knew there was nothing for her outside. There were fields, woods… Darian’s hunting dogs. She’d tried to run before; the bites had left some nasty scars on her legs, not to mention the pain that she’d learned to live with since then.
She sighed and pulled away. “You know—” She stopped in her tracks, eyes widening. “Arin?”
Arin was looking straight at her, big, usually empty eyes now filled with tears and sorrow beyond measure. She looked… touched. Was it the story? Was it that she’d come back, trying to protect her?
“Oh, sweetheart.” Bee pulled her right back into an embrace, not even bothering with questions. Arin looking at her might’ve been the biggest step she’d taken towards interacting with her so far, but Bee had no illusions about the future of their relationship. Arin wasn’t just going to start monologuing. “Of course I came back. Of course. I’ll always come back for you.”
#asks#whump#whump drabble#multiple whumpees#lady whumpee#fear of death#captivity#past trauma#beating#conditioning#dehumanisation#attacked by animals#comfort
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Aftermaths of beatings whump my beloved. Especially on the face. The way the cuts sting, the bruises ache, how even opening or closing your mouth and eyes hurts and stretches the skin oddly, how the head throbs horribly, the pain that seems to radiate from your face to the back of your skull with no sign of abating at all, the way it's impossible to rest in any position because your head is always touching something and you can't stand the pressure. A whumpee might break just from this, really. Just a few weeks, maybe a couple months if they're really stubborn, but they'll break. The sheer discomfort and pain, stretched out over such a long time, with no break. Why use extreme torture when a few well placed punches would do?
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