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galaxywhump · 5 months

Note

Prompt: Wren doing something that's blatantly stupid/suicidal (like going out into the jungle to pick fights with the wildlife) when he becomes apathetic about his own life, and Daniel's reaction to that?

[SV-240 masterlist]

Thank you for the prompt, anon! Sorry it's so late, it's been in the making for a while now and I finally got the motivation to finish it.

Warning: this is a rather heavy one; it's also not canon.

contents: slavery whump, forced relationship, creepy/intimate whumper, suicide attempt (nothing graphic), depression, restraints, comforted by whumper.

~~~

Wren leaves the house without Daniel’s knowledge.

He still has the tracker, of course, but when he left, Daniel was napping, so hopefully he won’t wake up for a few more hours. Wren just wants to go for a swim in the picturesque pond he remembers the path to. He’s unarmed, without so much as a kitchen knife, but he’s not scared. He’s not anything.

There is an emptiness inside of him that has had a grip on him for several weeks now. It’s the sort of hopelessness he’s been trying so hard to avoid, but instead of making him Daniel’s loving partner, it’s only making him… do this. Go for a walk in the jungle, looking straight ahead, not scanning his surroundings, barely flinching when he hears rustling and other sounds of the dense forest.

He’s had these thoughts a few times before, but now he’s decided to follow them. Not directly, even though he knows there are several options inside the house; instead, he lets fate decide, since it seems to control his life anyway. So he goes for a swim. If fate decides he should stay underwater, he won’t fight it, nor will he fight if it decides not to let him reach the pond at all.

He’s clothed, and yet feels so exposed, a puny human in a jungle full of animals he knows nothing about, having only met one, which tried to kill him. Maybe there are others like it. Maybe one is already stalking him.

Keep walking, not running, walking with calm emptiness. Get away from Daniel’s house, leave his life on the jungle’s mercy. He frowns when he feels a small pang of regret. He should turn back. He should live. But it’s too late now, isn’t it? He’s far enough that the way back would be anything but safe, and he doesn’t want Daniel to question him once he returns. He takes a deep breath, clenches his fists, and keeps walking.

There are noises all around him.

There’s a noise somewhere behind him.

Soft steps, a low growl. He’s being stalked.

He closes his eyes.

And then there’s a familiar man-made sound, cracking bolts of plasma piercing the air; one followed by the sound of the animal fleeing, one hitting a tree just a few centimeters left of Wren, making him jolt in place.

“Hi there,” he hears Daniel’s voice, almost playful. He swallows and slowly turns around to face his captor, who’s standing still with his arms crossed and his eyes narrowed.

“You missed,” Wren says, lifting his chin, though there is nothing more to his defiance, no spark in his eyes.

“If I wanted to shoot you, we wouldn’t be having this conversation right now.” There is no affection in Daniel’s voice, and Wren prefers it this way. “Have you forgotten about your tracker?”

“No.”

Daniel raises his eyebrows.

“What was even your plan?”

“I went for a walk,” Wren explains, looking him straight in the eye; his expression remains empty.

“Good one,” Daniel scoffs. “You know you’d be dead before the day’s over, don’t you?”

“I do.”

The silence that follows is unbearably heavy. Daniel gets it, and for a split second he looks genuinely surprised before going back to his usual unbothered expression.

“Come here. Let’s go home.”

Wren doesn’t break eye contact.

“And if I run?” he asks. “Will you miss again?”

“I’ll shoot, but I won’t kill you. I’ll target your leg, maybe both, and I’ll drag you back. Now come here.”

He does, his head lowered, brow furrowed, mind blank. The jungle around them is bustling with life, never completely quiet, yet the silence between them feels suffocating enough that it could spread over the entire forest, forcing it into stupor. Neither of them says a single word on the way home.

Home. Wren sighs. Home. Daniel’s house is his home now, there’s no denying that. He’s too tired to deny anything anyway, not to mention worry about what Daniel’s going to do to him after his stunt.

They’re still silent when they reach the house and the door closes behind them. Wren follows Daniel to the living room, sits down on the couch, and watches him retrieve two pairs of leather cuffs.

“You’ll have to be restrained more after this, you know that?”

“Yeah.” Wren puts his arms in front, wrists close together, and does the same with his ankles. The cuffs close, a familiar sensation, and he stares down at them, barely feeling anything.

“It’s for your own safety.” Daniel doesn’t crouch down, doesn’t sit next to Wren, still standing in front of him, towering over him.

“Yeah,” Wren repeats, his voice monotone; he only wants this pointless conversation to end, and Daniel can sense it, which doesn’t mean he cares.

“Look at me.”

When he does, Daniel frowns seeing the weary emptiness in his eyes.

“Why did you do it?” he asks, and his accusatory tone makes Wren flinch, like he’s being scolded. It’s the last thing he wants to experience today.

“Take a guess,” he mutters, lowering his gaze, as if even looking up requires too much energy.

Daniel sighs and his frown deepens. He knows the truth, as much as he doesn’t want to accept it.

“I won’t let you do that, Wren.”

“I know. Cause I have nowhere to run, right?” For the first time today, there is something in Wren’s voice, the tiniest of sparks. “I can’t fucking escape you and this-this fucking nightmare, I’m stuck here and you won’t even- you won’t even let me-” He gets choked up, and to his frustration he tears up. “Fuck, just fucking hold me already and spew your bullshit, I know you’re going to do it anyway.”

Without a word, Daniel sits down next to Wren, who leans against him and exhales slowly when Daniel embraces him.

“I’m not going to spew any bullshit. I just…” Daniel trails off for a moment and gives Wren a light squeeze. “I wasn’t expecting this, and it hurts.”

“Oh, it hurts you?” Wren laughs in disbelief. “Poor you, the guy you’re keeping captive and torturing is a depressed loser. Cry me a river.”

“It hurts me because I love you, Wren.”

“You said you weren’t going to spew bullshit.”

“It’s not bullshit to me, and I hope that soon it won’t be bullshit to you, either.” Daniel sighs, a heavy sigh that makes Wren even angrier, which he knows is, at the very least, better than complete emptiness. Daniel doesn’t have the right to feel and react this way, not when he’s the cause of all of this. “And remember that you were depressed even before I bought you.” He feels Wren tense up at that. “You can’t pretend otherwise, it was right in your file. Depressed, isolated, drinking problem. You were lonely, and that made it possible for Berkeley to make you disappear without raising any eyebrows. Now you’re here, I’m here with you, I know about your problems, and I want to help. On my terms and at my pace, but I do.”

“You’re not helping,” Wren croaks, trying and failing to blink away tears, Daniel’s blunt words feeling like a dagger piercing his heart, over and over again. “I wasn’t- It was better than this, I wanted to get better, I just…”

He just couldn’t, and it was only getting worse, until he started spending entire hours - he was too busy to afford days - curled up in his bed, staring at the wall, questioning the point of it all, and he was alone, completely alone, and-

“On Earth, I wouldn’t have been there to stop you.”

Daniel’s words are like a punch to the face, strong enough that Wren would sway on his feet if he wasn’t sitting down. It’s true, he realizes in horror, and a painful sob reverberates through his body; he slumps in Daniel’s embrace, overwhelmed by the most terrifying what if he’s ever had to consider.

“Shh, sweetheart.” Daniel gently runs his hand up and down Wren’s arm and pulls him closer as he sobs, unable to stop, because Daniel is right, and he was so stupid, and in a twisted way he almost let Daniel win.

What could have been back on Earth doesn't matter anymore. Here, if he dies, Daniel wins. It’s a way to escape, but it comes at too great a cost, and now that he can think more or less clearly again, he can’t believe he even attempted that. So stupid, so stupid, and if it wasn’t for Daniel, the very same person he's fighting against, he wouldn’t be here right now.

He won’t thank Daniel, he can’t, but he leans into his touch ever so slightly, and he’s still crying, so overwhelmed by what he almost did and so relieved that he’s still here, still fighting.

“Cry it out, sweetheart. I’m right here.”

For the first time, though he would never admit it out loud, he’s grateful for that.

~~~

taglist: @faewhump @inky-whump @whole-and-apart-and-between @whatwasmyprevioususername @procrastinatingsab @funky-little-glitter-bomb @goneuntil @redstainedsocks @luminouswhump @lonesome--hunter @as-a-matter-of-whump @renkocchi @whump-only @muddy-swamp-bitch @girlwithacoolcat @watermelons-dont-grow-on-trees @sophierose002 @whump-headspace @to-whump-or-not-to-whump @kixngiggles @ohwhumpydays @whumpsical @wibbly-wobbly-whump @stab-the-son-of-a @his-unspoken-words @pumpkin-spice-whump @onlyhappywhenitpains @suspicious-whumping-egg @morning-star-whump @burtlederp @there-will-always-be-blood @springwhump

#slavery whump #forced relationship whump #creepy whumper #intimate whumper #suicide tw #suicide cw #creepy comfort #depression whump #restrained #sv-240 #wren rackham #daniel rooney #my writing #so much time passes between updates i forget all my tags #anyway thank you for the prompt anon i really loved it!#writing this was really cathartic and i hope you enjoy

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livingforthewhump · 2 years

Note

For the ask game, could you maybe combine 3 and 5?

from this ask game

3–bridal carry // 5–protectiveness

—

“Come out, come out, wherever you are!” Whumper’s taunting voice echoed throughout the room. “I’ve got someone here who’s just dying to see you.”

Caretaker bit back the urge to cuss them out. Whumpee. They had Whumpee with them. So close, right there, and yet Caretaker was crouched in the shadows like a coward. They trembled with sheer rage.

Then they heard the click of the safety being released on a gun. Suddenly they couldn’t breathe. Whumpee’s small noise of terror was as loud as gunshots.

“It goes without saying, I should think, that denial of my requests does lead to consequences.”

A startled, pained yelp was wrenched from Whumpee’s throat. Caretaker’s hands tightened into fists. Not yet. They had to wait for the signal, they had to—

“Who was it you kept saying would come for you, little thing? What was that name?” Whumper’s smile oozed into their mocking words.

They sounded on the verge of tears. “C-caretaker.”

“That’s right! Caretaker. Imagine, Whumpee, you spend so long saying they’ll come for you, go through so much just for the hope of seeing them again, and them finally coming—only to let you get shot right in front of them, while they cower in the shadows.”

Some kind of mangled sob split through the air. Caretaker felt numb with fury.

They spoke again, softer now. “And if you’d just admitted they didn’t really care for you we wouldn’t be in this whole mess, would we, now?”

Caretaker hurtled out of their hiding spot before they had a moment to think, shoulders heaving. “Get away from them,” they spat.

Whumper’s smile was poison. “Ah, our brave hero emerges at last.”

Whumpee kneeled in front of them, hands tied, clothes hanging loosely off of their battered form. Tears soaked their cheeks, and Whumper’s free hand was wound tightly into their hair, tugging their head painfully upright.

“Well, Whumpee? Say hello.”

Whumpee’s eyes slowly flickered up off of the floor, taking Caretaker in through a glassy haze. “Careta—” Whumper tugged their hair harshly and they whimpered. “Hhh, hello.”

“Get your hands off of them, Whumper.” Caretaker’s fingers brushed the handle of their weapon, which didn’t go without Whumper’s notice.

“Ah ah ah, let’s have none of that.” Their tone was infuriatingly playful as they shoved the barrel of their gun against Whumpee’s head. “I’m sure we don’t want things to get nasty. In fact, why don’t you put that lovely little toy on the ground in front of you, and I won’t accidentally do something…drastic.”

Whumper caressed Whumpee’s cheek with the gun, drawing out a hard flinch and chuckling at the gasp of pain it caused.

Caretaker’s jaw flexed, but nonetheless they eased their weapon out of its socket and placed it in front of them, stepping away. “There. Now put the gun away.”

Whumper laughed. “Nah, I don’t think I will. It’s just too fun, seeing the both of you all jumpy like this.” They returned the barrel to rest at Whumpee’s temple. “So. Do you have what I asked for?”

Caretaker swallowed. “Whumpee first.”

“How dumb do you think I am?” Whumper quirked an eyebrow. “No. I’ll take the vial first.”

“How can you expect me to trust you not to kill them after I give it to you?”

Just a little more time.

Please.

There was that damned laugh again. “You’ll just have to trust me that I’m a lot more likely to shoot you than my little Whumpee here once I have what I want. Frankly I’ve grown quite attached to them.”

Caretaker’s skin crawled. They weren’t certain if that was better or far worse than what they’d expected.

Whumper’s finger tightened slightly over the trigger of the gun—they knew how closely Caretaker was watching. Knew that that would be enough of a warning.

“Wai—”

A bang! split the room.

Caretaker lunged forward, practically throwing themselves at Whumpee. Whumper crumpled to the floor before they were even close, dark red pooling around them. Whumpee still knelt there, looking numb, almost empty, as blood seeped around their knees. Caretaker had to hold back a cry of relief when they reached them, finally. They had them safe again.

Caretaker wrapped their arms around Whumpee, sweeping them up in a hug. Whumpee took a shuddering breath that had the sound to it of coming awake out of a dream. Or a nightmare. Trembling hands found Caretaker’s torso, grasped loosely at their shirt.

“You came,” Whumpee breathed. They sounded reverent, like they couldn’t have been sure it would ever happen.

“I came. I will always come to find you, Whumpee.” Caretaker lingered on the name. On the sheer elation of being able to say it while holding them, trembling and traumatized and sitting in a pool of blood but okay now.

And Whumpee suddenly wailed. They abandoned themself completely into Caretaker’s arms, curling against them and sobbing. It was all Caretaker could do not to copy them.

Footsteps clattered down an echoey hallway.

“What the hell was that?” Sniper snapped. Whumpee jerked in a harsh flinch against Caretaker. “I barely finished clearing the location and you had already thrown our plan to the dogs!”

Caretaker stood, leaning Whumpee against them and scooping them up into a bridal carry. They weren’t sure how far they would be able to walk, but they knew for sure they didn’t want to push Whumpee until they found out. Whumpee just readjusted their grip on Caretaker’s shirt, eyes drooping. Some kind of adrenaline crash.

“I didn’t have a choice,” they said firmly. Leader and Fighter had walked up beside Sniper.

“The plan was there so you wouldn’t have to make any choices.” Leader had a makeshift bandage wrapped around one arm. They looked more than a little miffed.

Caretaker grit their teeth, pulling Whumpee in closer to their chest. “It all turned out the way we wanted, didn’t it?”

“That’s not really the point. In order to be part of a team—”

“No,” Caretaker interrupted, furiously. “It was either sacrifice the plan or sacrifice Whumpee. They could have died, and none of you have even asked if they’re okay!” They paused for a moment, but no one filled the silence. Another tear slipped down Whumpee’s cheek.

Caretaker started for the door, but no one moved to follow. They turned around slowly. “What are you all doing? We have to make sure they’re not injured.”

Leader’s jaw flexed. “There’s still work that needs to be done here.”

“Whumper is dead!”

“And there are things we must attend to because of that. You can wait with Whumpee in the transport if it will make you feel better.”

Caretaker looked down at Whumpee again. They hadn’t noticed before how pale their skin was, how their cheeks were more gaunt than they’d seen them before. Even if they weren’t injured, they deserved to be put before everything else.

“No.” Caretaker spat the word, decisive enough to stop the team in its tracks. “I’m not waiting for you. I’m leaving, and I’m taking them back to my house. And if any of you decide to come visit them, it’s on you to explain to them why being ‘part of a team’ means you put dead trash bags above your own hurt members.”

Sniper looked furious. “Caretaker—”

“Don’t. talk to me.” They spun on their heel and left without looking back.

—

General whump taglist: @castielamigos-whump-side-blog @twistedcaretaker @lonesome--hunter @poppys-writing @endless-whump @multifandoms-multishipper @shadowylemon @utopian819 @whumpkitty @journey-the-panda @freefallingup13 @prettyboysinpain @1becky1 @temporary-whump-sideblog @chartreusephoenix @thelazywitchphotographer @mylifeisonthebookshelf @badluck990 @lockedupuniverse @luna-rein @broadwaybabe18 @pinescales-whumps @silverwhisperer1 @embersalive @the-bloody-sadist @batfacedliar-yetagain @nicolepascaline @whump-angst-fluff-repeat @susanshinning @didieatyourdog @corvid-voidbur @insane-writing-things @thebaffledtiewriter @morning-star-whump

#i feel like this is kinda short #but oh well #content is content #cw death #cw gun violence #protectiveness #whump #whump drabble #emotional whump #gun violence #team whump #umm #rescue #rescue whump #protective caretaker #scared whumpee #creepy whumper #intimate whumper

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astrowhump · 1 year

Text

Junior #4

flash back- a gloomy morning

TW: mentions of abuse, broken bones, blood, implied murder, stockholm syndrome, angst

[previous chapter]

“…are you okay?”

One harsh glance is enough to make Junior stammer.

“s-s-s-sorry m-m-as-ster-r…” his head droops down to avoid the angry gaze.

Alexander is in a gloomy mood today; he spent a good few minutes just staring out the kitchen window with an empty expression. Junior wrestled with himself for a while before he decided to speak up. It’s very unusual for Master to be grumpy so early in the day; he knows Alex is an early bird, religiously bound to his hour-long morning rituals. No, something special must be going on today.

Alexander is in no mood to be disturbed by the pesky pet; he considers gagging and locking him in the basement. But then he’d be bored out of his mind all day, he isn’t in the mood for that either. He weighs up his options. Finally, with an intentionally long sigh, he decides to open up. Afterall, why shouldn’t he? This boy will be dead and dumped in a landfill eventually.

“It’s my father’s death anniverssary today.”

Junior didn’t expect a soft tone out of that miffed face.

“Oh! I’m s-sorry m-master.” He gathers all his courage to put a reassuring hand on his master’s elbow. His right hand never lost the tremor even after his broken wrist healed.

Alex bursts into an unlooked-for fit of laughter, loud and terrifying. Junior immediately withdraws his hand, but his master doesn’t even notice, howling with laughter until he’s out of breath.

“Sorry? Oh no, little pet. Today is a jolly jolly day. It’s the anniverssary of the day I got rid of that good-for-nothing piece of garbage.”

He turns to face his boy and Junior’s eyes go wide. His master’s face has turned a bright shade of pink with how hard he’s smiling, like a child excited for a trip to Disneyland. It’s never good when Alex is excited.

“I think we should celebrate.”

Junior has a good guess what ‘celebrating’ translates into in his dictionary. He takes a step backwards, not really hoping to get away, but to delay the inevitable ‘celebration’ for as long as he can.

“You know he was the first person I ever took the life of. Well-deserved I’d say…”

Alex’s predator spirit is back, he backs the boy out of the kitchen step-by-step, into the living room.

“It was a beautiful sunny morning. I woke up to the sound of my mother screaming…that poor woman.” Something similar to sorrow takes over Alexander’s expression for an instant and disappears in the blink of an eye.

He keeps his eyes glued to Junior’s dilated pupils as he follows him, dragging out each step, fully certain that his boy has nowhere else to run to.

“I walked in on him beating my mother to shit right there in the living room, under our family photo…You could say my father wasn’t really a morning person.”

He pauses for a second, trying to recall everything in vivid detail.

“Do you know what I did, Junior?”

Junior only shakes his head no; internally scolding himself for asking, regretting every single choice he made today.

“Do you?” Alex shouts. His raspy voice, his creepy smile, how he slowly crouchs like a beast ready to hunt, and that hair-raising glint in his eyes; they all come together to force a stream of tears down his boy’s face.

“…n-n-no m-m-master…” he’s nearing the sofa, a dead end; he doesn’t want to know what happens when he runs out of room to get away.

“I grabbed the telephone…” he says as he reaches for the antique phone sitting uselessly on the coffee table. The back of junior’s knee hits the sofa.

The chase is over, here comes the pain.

“And I slammed it right into his disgusting head.” He swings the phone at the boy’s face and it lands right below his eye. Junior lets out a blood-curdling scream as he crashes to the ground.

“And I kept striking blow…” the phone hits the untouched side of Junior’s face and he feels his jaw crashing under the force.

“…after…” another hit to his broken cheekbone.

“…blow…” Junior hardly comprehends anymore; his vision starts going black, but not quite enough to stop the feeling of pain, just enough to make his eyes burn and his ears ring each time the handset bashes him in the face.

“…until his obnoxious fucking brain was all over the floor,” He says that with a prideful smile as he lands his final blow on the almost-unconscious bloodied mess on the floor. Junior yelps, not quite present enough to do much more, fractured skull sending wave after wave of pain through his nerves. He keeps his eyes shut, begs his brain to shut down and let go of this agonizing consciousness; but the ache keeps tapping on his window the second he starts drifting off, bringing him back to the present moment.

Alex’s smile slowly fades away as flashes from the past make him feel nostalgic. He places the blood-stained landline phone back in its place and collapses on the sofa right above where Junior lies sobbing.

The birds chirping ouside and the sunlight luminating the room is a delight to the captor and headache-inducing to his prisoner. It’s a beautiful day and blood is in the air, exactly as it was years ago.

“This just might be the best anniverssary I’ve spent so far. Stop ruining it with your annoying weeping.”

Junior doesn’t have an ounce of force in him to respond; he just lowers the volume of the whimpers to avoid getting on his master’s nerves.

“Come on now, Junior. It’s not that bad. Go clean yourself up.” He nudges at his side with his foot.

The boy tries, he puts all his energy into it but his brain is just too weak to order his limbs to move. He wants to sleep so bad. He rolls to his side and coughs out some of the blood that’s started pooling inside his mouth.

“Ah goddammit!” He stands and lifts the drowsy boy up by his arms, putting a firm hand behind his back to keep him still. Even though he’s obviously irritated, his touch is gentle.

“Man up, Junior.” It’s Alexander speaking, but those aren’t his words. Deep down, he’s just a cheap impersonation of his father.

He helps the boy toddle back to the kitchen and wash his face in the sink. The cool water helps soothe the constant burning in his jaw.

Junior’s head is still spinning. His fingers unclasp from the edge of the counter as his vision goes black. For just a second, he loses his balance; but to his dimay, he doesn’t crash to the floor, instead he lands on a warm chest and Alexander’s hands wrap around his shoulders. His tormentor holds him as he cries, lulling him into a sense of care, however false or temporary that might be.

“I’m sorry…sorry…” Junior whispers between his sobs as he sinks his face in his master’s shirt; too over-whelmed to know what he’s even sorry about.

“shhh it’s okay, sweetheart. You’re okay…” Alex cooes in his hair as he presses soft kisses to the crown of his head.

Basking in the peaceful moment, they remain still, enjoying the warmth of each other’s embrace, for as long as it lasts.

taglist (tell me if you wanna be added) @ladygwennn @darkthingshappen @keeper-of-all-the-random-things @thelazywitchphotographer @horribleauthortm @angelwhump @hiding-in-the-shadows @oddsconvert @gala1981 @there-will-always-be-blood @watermelons-dont-grow-on-trees @whumperfully @pigeonwhumps @cc1010fox

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redd956 · 2 months

Text

Mini Whump Prompt 153

"What am I?" The hollow clone of whumpee inquired to whumper, analyzing themselves through the mirror.

"You are my love of course. You've simply lost your memory."

"I'm sorry that I don't remember you then.", They allowed themselves in whumper's embrace, resting their head against whumper's chest, and listening to the quickened heartbeat. Even the hum of whumper's laughter was warm and full of vibrations, buzzing against the clone's face.

The clone explained, "I want to love you.", while whumpee could do nothing but watch through the screen, still trapped in their restraints.

#whumper #whump prompt #whump prompts #mini whump prompts #mini whump prompt #creepy whumper #intimate whumper #clone whump #clone whumpee #cw restraints #whump #whump ideas

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whumpbump · 1 year

Text

Baby pt 2 - The bottle

Cw: non-con drugging via eye drops, non-con undressing, forced bathing

Baby? Oh hell no I’m not their BABY I’m their CAPTIVE. I need to get out of here. Whumpee panicked as they began to struggle against the strong arms that elevated them.

Whumper 1 grabbed a blanket and quickly swaddled Whumpee so they couldn’t run. They were certainly small enough to control. That was one of the reasons they were chosen to be “adopted.”

“Now, now, Baby, hold still for us,” Whumper 1 instructed. “You need a bath and dinner. You haven’t eaten in awhile and growing babies need their nutrients!”

“No! Nngh! Ah!” Whumpee did NOT want to be undressed by these creeps but before they could struggle more, their left eye was forced open and something was dripped into it. “WHAT DI YOUH H DH-OOH Hu hhh-“ They were hazily watching the two now carry Whumpee out of whatever holding area they were in before to a clean, warm bathroom.

From here, Whumpee’s memory flew by in clips. They remember hands on their small, incapacitated body. Not in ways that were inappropriate, but more like efficiently working to strip them down and checking on any cuts and bruises. Every time one was found, they were cooed at. “Oohhh that must hurt I’m So sorry Sweetie.”

Their small, vulnerable body was placed gently in the tub as warm water rose. “Hu hhu” Whumpee whimpered pathetically. They didn’t understand what was happening or why but they were wet and naked and scared. They were shushed gently and washed with the utmost care as these strangers wanted only the best for their new prize.

Now dried and warmly dressed in footy pajamas that were suspiciously their size, Whumpee was cradled securely against Whumper 2’s chest - the stronger of the two - and carried to a large high chair. Still in the throes of the eye drops, Whumpee clumsily moved their arms and legs to try and keep from being contained once more. They were neither fast nor strong enough before they were belted in. Almost as if this was not the first time such an action had occurred in that kitchen.

The muzzle was removed at the time of the bath since Whumpee was so anesthetized that they could hardly close their drooling mouth (which was accommodated for by a brightly colored bib.) Whumper 1, the smaller and louder of the two, turned around to face Whumpee and Whumper 2 at the dining area with a large supply cup with something that looked not very appealing inside.

“Uhh. UhhUUHHuhjhhh-“ “Shhh it’s ok Babydoll, this is a special mix we’ve come up with to support all nutrients that you need. It shouldn’t taste too bad either. As good as the breast. Right, Whumper 2?”

“That’s right, now get ready for dinner, heeerreeee it comes!”

#whumpee #whumpblr #whump blog #whump ideas #whump #whump inspiration #whump tropes #whumper #whump community #creepy whumper #defiant whumpee #intimate whumper #multiple whumpers #cw noncon #noncon drugging #forced bathing

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quietly-by-myself · 2 years

Note

Kinda random but how about a painful massage for Sacha?

Thank you so much for the anon!! As you wish...

CW: slavery whump, conditioned whumpee, silent whumpee, bone relocation, creepy/intimate whumper, carewhumping, stress position, dubcon/noncon touching

===

"Come here, Sacha."

Sacha never knew what to expect when Master called him. He knew it would be painful, yes, but the tortures that Master put him through were different and unpredictable.

Like the night before, when Sacha had made a noise and earned himself hours of being hung in a horrible position forward by his neck, with his arms wrenched behind him.

"I took your punishment too far, Sacha. You were just whimpering. I should not have left you for that long. Let me help you."

Master was sitting in his leather chair, a glass of whisky on the table next to him. Sacha was sitting next to him on the floor.

Master motioned for Sacha to come up on the ottoman in front of the leather chair. Sacha hesitated. He was never allowed up on the furniture when Master took him upstairs. Even just allowing him upstairs showed some level of kindness Sacha was not normally afforded. It was a relief to be out of the basement, though he knew that it came with a hefty price tag. One he would have to pay now.

Sacha eventually obeyed. Master immediately put his hands on Sacha, feeling his shoulder. He massaged it surprisingly gently, but the digging caused Sacha pain like no other.

Eventually, Master moved onto his other shoulder, massaging the base of his neck, his shoulder blades, and his upper spine. All of it popped and cracked and stung with a horrible agony.

Sacha wanted to cry out, but whimpering was what had gotten him there in the first place.

"Your shoulders are dislocated. Subluxed. Whatever the word is. They're a bit out of place. I'll relocate them for you. Don't move and don't make a sound."

Sacha stiffened, ready to obey. Master put his hand on Sacha's arm and massaged gently, working the shoulder bone into place. The pressure in his arms gradually faded as Master continued the massage. His arms hurt less and his neck felt like it might've been able to support itself.

Even though every motion Master made into his muscles hurt, Sacha didn't care. He was being touched without Master intentionally causing him pain.

It was a relief he couldn't describe.

It was a mercy he didn't deserve.

===

Tags: @whumpsday, @i-can-even-burn-salad, @pigeonwhumps, @darkthingshappen, @pumpkin-spice-whump, @darlingwhump, @maracujatangerine, @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi, @flowersarefreetherapy, @octopus-reactivated, @quietshae, @whump-blog, @inkkswhumpandstuff, @whumpycries, @whumpkinz

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whumperfully · 2 years

Text

Deserving

CW: failed murder attempt, failed escape attempt, begging, manhandling, drowning, creepy/intimate whumper, unhinged whumper, conditioned whumpee, psychological manipulation

Also marks off my bthb:drowning

Inspired by this prompt by @whumppromptoftheday

Whumpee tiptoed into the kitchen, careful not to let their breathing get too loud. They quietly approached the drawer in the far corner, eyes darting around their surroundings. Slowly. Very slowly. They opened the drawer and took out the sharpest longest knife they could find.

They turned the wooden grip around in their bandaged hand until it fit. Yes. It definitely seemed sharp enough to be able to easily cut through whumper. This was the day they were going to be free. They-

"What are you doing here so late at night, darling?" The voice made whumpee's blood run cold.

They whipped around as fast as they could and fell to their knees, head bent low.

"Were you trying to make me a midnight snack? How sweet." Whumper moved closer. "Why didn't you ask me for permission beforehand, hmm? I mean, seeing you here soo late at night is bound to arouse suspicion, no?" Their hands gently ruffled whumpee's hair.

"Yes, Master." Whumpee's voice was barely above a whisper.

"I don't need a 'yes', sweetheart. Although, I do appreciate the 'Master'. Tell me-" Their grip tightened in a moment, pulling whumpee's head up to lock eyes with them. "-why did you come down here?"

"You didn't mean to hurt me, did you? You can't be this foolish, right?" The grip around their hair tightened until whumpee was sure it would rip all of it out.

A whimper escaped their lips as they attempted to shake their head, throat too dry to speak.

"Then tell me-" Whumper crouched down, letting go of their hair to grab the knife out from behind whumpee. "-what is this?"

Whumpee trembled, tears ready to stream down their face. "M-master I-"

"You really think I can be fooled with your lies, pet?" Whumper patted their cheek. "I know you better than you know yourself."

"Plea- please! Mas-"

"Shh." Whumper placed a finger on whumpee's lips. "Let me think." Their eyes scanned their surroundings. "Let's see... Oh! I know!"

As they began to walk towards the sink, whumpee perked up. They knew what was coming next and-

"Master, please!" They fell forward to get a hold of whumper's pajama bottoms. "I'm sorry!" They choked out through their sobs. "I was tired and couldn't think straight! Please please please! I won't do it ag-"

Whumper kicked whumpee in the ribs, hard enough to make them roll across the floor to the fridge in the corner.

As whumpee heard the tap being turned on, they began to cry, curling up on themself. They hated this punishment. So. So much. They would take a beating over it any day.

The sound of the water disappeared and whumpee shifted closer to the wall.

"I'm sorry, Master. I'm really very sorry." They sobbed as whumper approached them.

"Sweetheart-" Whumper grabbed their arm to pull them up. "-I know you're sorry. I know you're very very sorry. But that's not enough." They guided the trembling whumpee to the sink. "I want you to remember this. Forever. So that you can never ever think of trying this again."

Before whumpee had time to hold their breath, they were shoved underwater. They stayed still for as long as they could but as they reached the one minute mark, their desperation overpowered them and they began to thrash against whumper's grip. Anything to convince them to let them out.

Yet whumper only pushed them in deeper. Until their nose hit the bottom. Until their back was painfull arched. Until they could only stand on their toes.

Their chest tightened. Their head felt too light. They-

Theycouldn'tbreathetheycouldn'tbreathetheycouldn't-

Whumper finally pulled their head out of the water, letting them take a huge breath before-

Their feet were lifted off the ground once more. Water entered their nose. They opened their mouth for some relief but it only got worse. Their throat was in a cagecagecagecagecagecage-

Their head was lifted up once more but they got even less time to breath before-

They couldn't breathe. They were going to die. Whumper had finally decided to kill them. They had been bad. They had been bad. Whumper was going to kill them. They couldn't breathe. They shouldn't have- they couldn't breathe. Whumper was going to- they couldn't breathe. They-

Whumper took their head out of the water again and they hadn't even taken a full breath before-

They couldn't take it. Not anymore. They didn't wanna die. They couldn't die. They would do anything to not die. Why do they have to go through this? Whumper's words echoed in their mind. They had been bad... Of course... they had bad thoughts... They had tried to kill Master... Master only wants to make sure they don't repeat their mistakes.. Of course... Of course they... Of course they deserve this-

Whumper pulled their head out the water and threw them down to the floor.

Whumpee was frozen. Their mind still stuck in the water. A kick to their back and they began to cough, desperate to suck in as much air as they could.

"Shh shh whumpee." Whumper chided, their tone soft and sweet. "You're being too loud. You know I don't like loud noises, especially when I'm sleepy."

Whumpee clamped their mouth shut, trying to breathe through their clogged up nose. They couldn't afford to ruin Master's mood again.

Whumper leaned against the sink, yawning. "Much better. Oh, right. It's very late now, darling, isn't it? We should really get some sleep." They crouched down beside the trembling whumpee. "Give me your arm, please. Here, I'll help you up."

Whumpee whimpered, too weak to move.

"Oh! You poor soul! Don't worry, sweetheart-" They put an arm below whumpee's knees and another on their back. "-I'll just carry you, hm? I'll even let you sleep with me, okay?"

As whumper pulled whumpee up into their arms bridal-style, whumpee closed their eyes. It was strange. They felt good. Whumper's pajamas were so soft. So warm after all that cold water. As whumper began to walk, whumpee couldn't help themself...

"Thank you, Master." Their voice was too low. They hoped Master could hear them.

To be honest... they weren't sure why they were thanking whumper. They had hurt them, hadn't they? But now they were carrying them in their arms... so gently... so softly... It felt good... They didn't understand how... why...

"It's alright, whumpee. I'm sure you'll remember this lesson now. Don't worry. If you ever do forget, I'll remind you again. Again and again. As many times as it would take to help you get better." Whumper pressed a soft kiss to their forehead. "Just rest now, hm? No need to worry."

That's right... Master would take care of everything... Pets shouldn't think that much anyway... They deserved what Master gave them... That's all...

#whump drabble #cw failed murder attempt #cw failed escape attempt #cw begging #cw manhandling #cw drowning #cw creepy whumper #cw intimate whumper #cw unhinged whumper #cw conditioned whumpee #cw psychological manipulation #bthb entry #bad things happen bingo

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galaxywhump · 1 year

Note

if wren started begging for something during a torture session (a small break bc he feels like he's gonna be sick, or some water) would daniel grant that to him? or would it be situationally dependent?

I know you were probably expecting a straightforward answer, but your ask made a WIP happen, so here it is.

[SV-240 masterlist]

contents: forced relationship whump, slavery whump, creepy/intimate whumper, defiant whumpee, illness, non-graphic emeto, torture, knives, stress position, blindfold, creepy comfort.

~~~

Wren woke up feeling terrible.

It’s nothing out of the ordinary for him, but that morning he felt terrible in a different way. He felt ill; weak and slightly dizzy, shivering despite it not being cold in the house. He didn’t tell Daniel, even though he wanted nothing more than to be given medication, hot tea, and some peace and quiet. No, telling Daniel would also mean him being overly caring and doting, which was the last thing Wren wanted to deal with.

So he didn’t say anything, and then he learned that Daniel was in the mood for some handiwork with his favorite knife.

Shit.

He still didn’t say a word when Daniel closed handcuffs on his wrists and attached them to a chain connected to a hook in the ceiling, forcing him to keep his arms outstretched and stand on his tiptoes. He didn’t say a word when Daniel put a blindfold on his eyes and earplugs in his ears. He just shuddered and gritted his teeth when the knife pierced his arm and was dragged downwards.

Just get through this, he thinks to himself while Daniel makes small, precise cuts around his shoulder blades in a pattern that only makes sense to him and his artistic vision. It’s not the first time.

But it’s the first time when he feels this awful during torture, and the position he’s in doesn’t help. His body is under so much strain, stretched out uncomfortably, he can barely stay upright, his arms hurt, his head hurts, everything hurts, and Daniel’s only adding more pain. He still feels dizzy despite the darkness - or maybe because of it - his face is covered in cold sweat, he starts feeling slightly nauseous. The blindfold is soaked with tears of frustration, he can hear his heartbeat way too clearly, it’s the only sound he hears, he feels horrible, he wants out, he wants this to end, he can’t handle this after all, but that means…

“Stop,” he mumbles weakly, shaking his head and whining when the pain from the cuts seems to intensify now that he’s not fully preoccupied with his illness. Talking with the earplugs in is an unpleasant, almost surreal experience, and he can only hope he’s actually saying something, that his voice isn't too weak. "Please stop."

But this is Daniel, so Wren can imagine him laughing at his begging, making a stupid comment promising that this will be over soon, sweetheart, but this isn't about that. He whimpers when the knife cuts into his back again.

"I'm serious, stop, I-I think I'm gonna be sick, I just need a break."

The knife disappears, and Wren swallows desperately, struggling to take a deep breath.

He flinches when he feels Daniel grip his arm - thankfully an undamaged part of it - and a moment later his wrists are released. Daniel catches him before he can collapse, unable to stay upright after the punishing position.

The earplugs are removed, and the blindfold follows. Wren winces and blinks, and when his eyes get used to something other than darkness, he sees Daniel's face, with worry written all over it.

"Are you still feeling sick?" he asks, and Wren nods.

Daniel wraps Wren's arm around himself to support him and leads him to the bathroom, where the nausea gets overwhelming. Daniel holds his hair back for him, not saying a word for now.

Wren closes his eyes, exhausted, and fuck does everything hurt, but mostly his arms and back now that he's moving again. He's trembling, getting up feels like an impossible task, and he's still crying, from pain and from his awful state, and he's not even mad at himself for it.

"Better now?"

"I think so," he mutters. Daniel lets go of his hair.

"I'll get you some water."

Wren nods, keeping his eyes closed, not daring to move an inch for fear of his body igniting with pain again and the room spinning.

Anxiety creeps up on him; nothing like this has ever happened before, and he doesn’t know what to expect from Daniel.

He comes back and hands Wren a glass of water, then sits down next to him, looking at him with a puzzled expression.

"What happened?" he asks.

"I think I'm sick." Wren stares down at the water, every breath causing his fresh wounds to shift and hurt even more. "I feel like shit, and… you just saw for yourself, I guess." He sighs. “So just get the session over with before it gets worse.”

Daniel firmly shakes his head, frowning.

“No. You need to rest. I’ll take care of your wounds and then you can lie down.” He pets Wren’s hair. “We can continue some other time.”

Wren huffs, shaking his head in disbelief.

“You do realize how fucked up that sounds, right?”

Daniel just chuckles in response. He does know. It changes nothing.

The knife will return in a few days, and yet Wren can’t help but be relieved as Daniel cleans and dresses his wounds, then gives him a shirt and carries him to the living room.

“I can carry you to the bedroom, if you’d like. Unless you prefer the couch.”

“Couch,” Wren mutters. The bed is more comfortable and the bedroom would offer more peace and quiet, provided Daniel leaves him alone, but he wants to stay out of there as much as he can, and the couch is too small for Daniel to lie down next to him.

As much as he hates the couch, he can’t deny that it’s comfortable, and in his exhaustion he practically melts into it. Daniel even brings him a blanket, which Wren curls up under, pulling it up to his neck.

“I’ll bring you some pills,” Daniel says, pressing his palm to Wren’s forehead; he clicks his tongue when he confirms that it’s unnaturally warm, and brushes Wren’s hair away from his face, making him wince. “Do you need anything else, sweetheart?”

“Rest,” Wren sighs, struggling to keep his eyes open. Now that he’s stopped ignoring it, his illness has decided to hit him with everything it’s got.

“Okay. I’ll fetch the pills and you can sleep after you’ve taken them, alright? Try to stay awake.”

“Mhm.”

Daniel leaves, and Wren wraps the blanket tighter around himself, blinking slowly, trying to fight his exhaustion off for a bit longer. Daniel is just as doting as he’d feared he would be, but… aside from his usual sweethearting it feels good to be taken care of, and to be listened to. The wounds still sting, a reminder of the torture he’d gone through and will go through again soon, but he can’t bring himself to care. He waits for his captor and torturer to come back with the medicine, and he has to remind himself not to thank him for this bare minimum of kindness, more than most of what he’s gotten throughout his life.

He wishes it wasn’t like this, moments of kindness and loving care juxtaposed with pain and tears and coercion; he knows how much Daniel enjoys doing this, being the sole source of both suffering and comfort.

He’s aware of so many mechanisms of his captivity, yet he’s powerless to fight them, forced to accept them, and all he can hope for is that all these processes won’t shape him into something else, whatever Daniel, whose smile is unnervingly genuine and fond when he enters the living room, wants him to be.

“Sleep well, sweetheart," Daniel says softly once Wren's washed the pills down with water. "I hope you’ll feel better when you wake up.”

“So you can torture me more?” Wren mutters, closing his eyes.

Daniel’s lighthearted laughter keeps ringing in his ears long after he's fallen asleep.

~~~

taglist: @faewhump @inky-whump @whole-and-apart-and-between @whatwasmyprevioususername @procrastinatingsab @funky-little-glitter-bomb @goneuntil @redstainedsocks @luminouswhump @lonesome--hunter @as-a-matter-of-whump @renkocchi @whump-only @muddy-swamp-bitch @girlwithacoolcat @watermelons-dont-grow-on-trees @sophierose002 @whump-headspace @to-whump-or-not-to-whump @kixngiggles @ohwhumpydays @whumpvp @wibbly-wobbly-whump @stab-the-son-of-a @his-unspoken-words @pumpkin-spice-whump @onlyhappywhenitpains @suspicious-whumping-egg @morning-star-whump @burtlederp @there-will-always-be-blood

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justplainwhump · 8 months

Text

Prep Protocol

In the hands of his former colleagues at the facility, Tyler's day is getting even worse.

[Way over his head | Masterpost]

Content / warning: BBU setting, facility whump, multiple whumpers, whumper turned whumpee (ig?), interrogation, shock collar, strapped to a table, threat of noncon, noncon kiss, implied future noncon, intimate whumper, creepy whumper. Yeah this is just me throwing you little bits, but hey, it's Tyler.

Tyler only noticed the plastic wrap around his wrist, when Handler Grimm ran his fingers over it, and Tyler cringed from a sudden, stinging pain.

A piece of cling wrap peeked out under the leather strap that fixated his arm to the table. The skin underneath was red and slightly swollen, sensitive to touch.

Grimm chuckled.

Tyler felt like all air had been sucked from his lungs.

Under the plastic, thin black bars contrasted against the red.

"Mh. Yeah," Grimm said cheerfully. "002243. That's going to be you, Parker. 002244, your girlfriend. We've got both your admission files ready. Signatures and all. Just a little bit of pre-work we need to do with you." He patted Tyler's wrist. "You'll beg us to get on the Drip, 243, but you'll have to work for that mercy."

243. Just five more than 238. Despair tilted over into hysteric amusement. He could've laughed out. He really hadn't been cut out for that job, had he now?

"Smiling, Parker? Wonder what that's about." Grimm clicked his tongue. "But you know what I wonder about more? I bet you do know." He leaned in on his chair, almost casual, if his hand hadn't been playing with the remote to the shock collar. "Where's your girlfriend?"

"Girlfriend?" Tyler all but giggled. As if this job allowed any of them a private life. "Who? 238? You know she actually could've been, in another-"

White pain surged through him, swallowed him for what felt like an eternity.

His muscles were screaming, everywhere, his whole body on fire and crushed under the weight of the world at the same time.

"-fucking idiot," Grimm's voice took shape in the whiteness, came in waves with the pain. "Tara McKenzie. Where is she?"

"G-gone," Tyler said hoarsely. His voice was cracking strangely in his own ears. Had he screamed? He didn't remember. Had 238's voice felt the same to her, after he'd shocked her?

"Gone where?"

"Don't know. She hates me," Tyler croaked, and couldn't even tell, why he added, "Everyone hates handlers."

Grimm leaned in over him, eyes squinted as he looked deeply into Tyler's eyes. "Is he still high?", he asked someone else in the room, not even bothering to shock Tyler again. "What did you give him?"

"Sedated him to get him here", someone said. "Should have worn off by now."

"Well. Not enough. Can't work with him like this. At least not for an interrogation." Grimm sighed. "Let's switch to preparation protocol instead. Soften him up. Gonna help us one way or another."

Tyler swallowed. He didn't know what preparation protocol was, he realized. He'd only ever come in after the Drip. All he knew was, he'd lost already. Whatever they were going to do, he had no reason to give up Tara. He wouldn't.

Next to him, Grimm patted his shoulder. "There's really no reason for relief right now." He nodded towards the one way mirror. "There's a bunch of people here, who take what you did very personal. You've sabotaged the company, Parker. You may have heard those urban legends about maintenance pets? That's what happens to the idiot sort of handlers who fail at their work. Snitches, though? Whole different cup of tea." Grimm reached out, and Tyler could only flinch before the handlers warm hand rested on his bare stomach, stroking his skin, wandering up to his chest. Tyler's heart raced, all of a sudden. "Snitches with a body like yours, Parker? Intimate knowledge of full Romantic training specifications?" Grimm's voice dropped to a whisper. "You know what you're going to be. And prep protocol? Means to get your body acquainted with being used for one thing only. Had some of your colleagues come in, just for that. It's more fun, when it's personal. And you know, Parker, your secrets about Tara will sit very loose once you've understood that the mercy of the Drip is your only way out."

Grimm's breath was hot on Tyler's skin, suddenly, and then the other man's lips grazed along his ear. "You're going to love this, soon enough. But as long as you hate it, remember - you can end it." He pressed a kiss on Tyler's neck and Tyler's whole body stiffened under the touch. "I'm going to my office, follow up on that mess you've thrown us into, Parker, but I will enjoy knowing you in Handler Thompson's capable hands."

Tyler's breath caught.

"Hey T." Carly stepped in at his side, a hard grin on her face. "Love the look."

Grimm retreated, chuckling without any humor. "Let me know when he's ready to talk. Have fun. You can book this as overtime."

Carly reached out and grabbed a handful of Tyler's hair, jerked his head up to make him meet her gaze. "Will do, Sir," she said to Grimm, and then, pulling Tyler even closer, she whispered into his ear, "Going to make this last a long, long while."

#facility whump #bbu #tylers story #tyler parker #carly thompson #jared grimm #nfswhump #noncon cw #mostly for the buildup though #shock collar #multiple whumpers #interrogation #intimate whumper #creepy whumper

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skinnamon39 · 1 year

Text

Battered, Bloody, Beautiful

Content: dehumanization, non-consensual nudity (non-sexual), begging, needles, tiny whumpee

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

The door to Whumper’s workshop makes a distinctive craaaak as it swings open. It’s their second favorite sound in the world.

To hear their very favorite sound, they take out a key and unlock the top-most drawer in their desk. They open it and - there! - out come the soft, tiny whimpers they cherish. With their thumb and forefinger, they pull out the sheet of white paperboard holding their latest project: Whumpee.

Gently placing them on the desk, Whumper takes a moment to admire the blank canvas - Whumpee’s nude form, their limbs splayed out as far as they can stretch, their palms and ankles pierced with the smallest nails Whumper could find at the hardware store. The blood had had plenty of time to dry since last night, leaving exquisite blotches of maroon at Whumpee’s extremities.

But they must go on with their work. Whumper reaches for their kit.

“N-no, please-” Whumpee rasps, their voice trembling. “Don’t-”

Whumper shushes them as they pull out a sewing needle the length of their thumb, or, to put it in perspective, the length of Whumpee’s torso. Their little mouth opens, but whatever they were going to say is lost the moment Whumper pierces the skin of their inner left thigh. They prick, prick, prick on the dainty skin, and Whumpee cries and screams and shrieks as thin red ribbons stream down and pool along their leg. It’s like Whumper has their own miniature orchestra.

That’s enough of that for now. After wiping down the needle, they return it to the kit. Now, where… Aha!

Whumpee’s small, delicate hiccups turn into hyperventilating at the sight of the tweezers in Whumper’s hand. Their eyes are as wide as dimes.

God, they love their job.

#whump #whump writing #nonhuman whump #nonhuman whumpee #tiny whumpee #creepy/intimate whumper #sadistic whumper #tw restraints #cw needles #dehumanisation tw #and on today's episode of #super specific genres of whump that appeal to a single-digit number of people #whumpees being turned into art

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apokolyps · 2 years

Text

Look at me, trying to write more bc it's good for you. This is a response to a prompt I saw a while back, kinda lost the original prompt but eh

Masterlist

Non-sexual nudity tw, non con touching tw, non con stripping tw

Heavy footsteps sounded on the stairs as Whumper slowly descended into the basement, wearing their customary steel-toed boots. Their Whumpee shuddered and pulled himself up into a kneeling position before them as they approached.

“Awe,” Whumper said with a lazy grin, hands held behind their back, “don’t you look pretty all ready for me?”

Whumpee held their tongue, staring straight ahead as Whumper sauntered over. He really was a stubborn one. Tonight should help with that. Whumper gave them a salacious once over and licked their lips at the plethora of colored bruises decorating Whumpee’s shirtless form. He really was gorgeous like this.

Whumper moved in a slow circle around Whumpee, drinking in the bold colors contrasting with pale skin. The coarse brown rope bound Whumpee’s wrists behind his back, leaving them red and raw. The dirt from the concrete floor, smudged across Whumpee’s body, hiding bruises and highlighting a ruggedness to Whumpee that Whumper loved probably too much. Gorgeous.

Whumper really wanted to add to the canvas with a thick cane or perhaps their own fists, but alas, places to be and people to see.

They stopped in place behind Whumpee, watching them twitch in anticipation and very well hidden fear. That defiance was undoubtedly playing behind his eyes, smothered by resignation and a significnat amount of self preservation. Delicious.

With a gentle grip they carded their fingers through his greasy, unkept hair. Testing just how compliant their Darling was going to be today. He didn’t pull back this time, that was good, they would hate to have to drag this part out now. He kept still, resigned. Resignation from their Darling was always so perfect. They were just in that sweet spot before they break. They might even beg soon.

Perfect.

They could sit here for hours, just petting and watching their Darling grind his teeth together, trying to school his emotions. Because he knew this was far, far better than being beaten bloody. The war of revulsion playing across his face was almost as good as hearing him scream.

But they had places to be, and Darling here was going to be perfect for tonight.

They slowed the hand in his hair, grabbed a fistfull of the filthy strands, and pulled his head back slowly. He could fight, maybe get them to release his scalp. He might even get a lick or two of his own in before Whumper could subdue him.

Whumpee would have, early on. He would never let them touch him without three beatings and two days withought sleep.

Now though, now the threat of what could happen helps him make it through what is. Now he lets them stroke his hair, pull his head back and bare his throat. Now he closes his eyes, grits his teeth and undoubtedly plays: it could be worse, on repeat in his mind. Perfect.

They pull Whumpee’s head back until he was staring at the ceiling, eyes alight with fury and shaded by fear.

“Stay.”

Whumper released Whumpee’s skull and he kept it in the position Whumper left him in.

“Good boy,” crooned Whumper as they strode across the room and selected a length of rope attached to a carabiner clip. Whumpee had taken to staying as silent as possible during these sessions, not talking or engaging with Whumper. It was cute how he tried to shut them out while remaining compliant.

“You’ve been such a good boy lately,” they said as they turned around, “That I think you’ll be perfect for tonight.” They returned to Whumpee, and kelt behind them while they fastened the rope around Whumpee’s neck, looped around his bound wrists, and attached the clip to the D-ring set into the concrete nearly underneath him.

They stepped back and around Whumpee, admiring their bobbing adam’s apple and exposed throat. In this position, they would be completely unable to lean forward or straighten. He might be able to get their feet out from underneath himself and get into a more comfortable position. But doing so would only earn Whumpee one hell of a punishment.

XXX

Whumpee’s face and neck burned red with the humiliation of being so vulnerable and on display for Whumper. He shifted uncomfortably in his restraints, testing them as much as he was trying to shift half a milimeter into a position that wouldn’t hurt, one where his ribs weren’t broken and his shoulders didn’t throb and where that god damned rope wasn’t digging into his windpipe and forcing him to lean back.

He wouldn’t be able to hold this position for very long, but he doubted he was going to be left in a stress position overnight again, not with Whumper’s talk of tonight. Somehow, he thinks that he would prefer to be whipped bloody than go through what is planned for tonight.

He heard Whumper walk over to the side of the room and squeezed his eyes shut.

The sink was along that wall.

He found himself trembling and forced himself to still before Whumper started cooing and calling him adorable in a voice that would sound patronizing if Whumpee wasn’t completely convinced it was genuine.

He just had to breathe. Take a moment to appreciate the ability to take full breaths that didn’t burn his lungs. Just breathe In, 2, 3, 4.

Whumper pulled something out from the cabinet under the sink.

Out, 2, 3, 4.

There was a squeaking sound as the hose was screwed into place.

In, 2, 3, 4.

Just breathe, feel your lungs expand with air as you choose to breathe.

Out, 2, 3, 4.

The water turned on.

Whumpee let out a whimper and immediately cursed himself for it. This was no time to lose his nerve. He is gonna be tortured. It is gonna fucking suck. And then he’ll be left alone for a few hours to sleep before it starts all over again. This is just his fucking life now and whimpering isn’t gonna make it any fucking easier.

Unless it will. He stamped the thought out the second it popped into his head. He is not nearly broken enough to even consider that, and right now he has to be strong because Whumper is walking closer.

His breath picked up in his chest despite his efforts as he heard the water from the hose hitting the concrete floor. This was gonna fucking suck.

The gentle spray of freezing water hit his left knee first, soaking through the filthy sweatpants he has been wearing for weeks, and chilling him to the bone in seconds. Whumper shifted to spray to soak his other leg and meandered up his stomach and chest, teasing at his neck before going over his back with a lazy pace.

So they were freezing him out first, making him miserably cold before drowning him in the same fucking cold water. Delightful.

XXX

Whumper watched their darling whumpee in delight as he flinched every time they worked further up his neck, how he was racked with shivers from the icy water and the look on his face that let them know he knew it was only going to get worse from here.

Delicious.

They quickly put a kink in the hose to stop the water and cause whumpee to flinch at the change. They return to the sink and turned off the water fully before unkinking the hose and detaching it from the sink. They pulled out a bucket as they replaced the hose and let the water run hot for a moment before placing the bucket in the sink to fill up.

Whumpee was still facing the ceiling, as if they were trying very hard not to think about what was going to happen next. As the bucket filled Whumper pulled out several bottles from under the sink and walked over to Whumpee.

Whumpee was still trembling, but they suspected it was more due to cold than fear. Their whumpee was excellent at managing his fear and keeping still for them, a trait they often take advantage of.

They set the bottles down and comb their fingers through their darling’s greasy hair again. It was getting longer as the weeks went by, hanging in front of whumpee’s face and giving a wild dog look to him that only enhanced their artwork. He could do without the beard though, it gave an almost paternal look to his face. Aged him in a way that made you think he was a father of four instead of a recent collage graduate.

Yes the beard will have to go.

The sound of water running over the side of the bucket and into the sink pulls them out of their head. They give whumpee’s head a gentle pat that whumpee pointedly doesn’t flinch at and returned to his side a moment later with the bucket, a comb, and a set of clippers.

XXX

Whumper took several moments to arrange the things they brought over, meaning this probably wasn’t going to just be a simple drowning, meaning this is just gonna get a hell of alot worse.

Images flash unwittingly to mind, and he unsuccessfully tries to shove them away. Whatever is gonna happen, he will survive it. When this is over, he will take breaths with burning lungs, shiver with his hands tied behind his back, and laugh at himself for how he thought he wouldn’t survive.

Because he was going to survive. He is going to walk out that door one day and never have to resist flinches or hold his tongue to survive ever again.

The sound of water being scooped out of the bucket pulls him out. This is it.

He forces himself to take a deep breath. Inhale. Exhale.

Those damned fingers return to his hair, warm and sickeningly pleasant. He wants to wrench his head out of their grasp and away from them but he doesn’t. He holds still. He endures the unwelcome touch while he has to, just like how he will endure the drowning. Just like how he has endured every other goddamned torture he has been put through while trapped in this goddamned basement.

A clear, plastic, cup-shaped tupperware container filled with water enters his vision as it’s brought above his head. He closes his eyes and his breathing speeds up.

Burning heat is poured across his face and he gasps in shock as another scoop is poured along his hairline and into his hair. Then another, and another.

Soon his hair is soaked in the hot water and whumper’s fingers return to his hair, combing tangles out and making it lay straight

The terrible, gentle hand in his hair mixed with the warm water feels far better than he would ever admit. He is unlikely to be hurt now, but there is always the chance that the next douse of water will be ice cold and that the hand in his hair will tighten into a fist and hold him in place while the other fist pummels his unprotected face.

He wouldn’t be able to force himself to relax if he tried, the threat of this humilation giving way to pain an all too real possibility. Torture was far far worse than this, this might be the best he’s felt in weeks, but this was still not good. He’d still rather be anywhere but here, under the hands of someone who has beaten the shit out of him for ‘artistic purposes’.

Both the hand and the warm water stop as something is popped open. Whumpee tenses, ready for this to go from not okay to god-awful at lightspeed.

Whumper let out a small chuckle and cooed at him, patting his shoulder in ‘mock comfort’, not unlike a person patting the flank of a horse to calm them down.

Is it mock if Whumper really sees it as comfort? Does it even matter if its mock if being touched where he can’t see only reminds him how fucking helpless he is?

“Shhh darling, you’re being so good for me.” Whumper cooed in a voice that made part of Whumpee want kick out and struggle just to be contrary, but fear is controlling most of his fucking brain. Kicking out will definately turn this creepy, uncomfortable experience into a fucking nightmare.

It might be worth it to avoid whatever was gonna happen tonight though.

He swallows his pride and stays fucking still when whumper’s hand returns to his hair and something cool is massaged into his scalp with Whumper’s blunt nails, irritating the small nicks and cuts along his scalp.

He can’t fucking believe it. They’re fucking washing his hair?

Whumper is cleaning out the blood and grit and sweat and torture from his hair? Not only that, but once his hair was deemed clean, the suds and later the conditioner rinsed out, Whumper took a cloth to wipe his face clean of dirt and blood and all that other good shit that gets on your face when you’re being tortured, and did a fucking skin-care routine on him. They did a whole ass routine with exfoliating and a fucking face mask. They even took an electric beard trimmer or clippers or something and shaved his beard down to stubble, humming something about how that was much better.

What. The. FUCK??

He half expected them to get a tweezers and start plucking his eyebrows or some shit like that.

But whumper just put the things they had brought back to the sink and did what sounded like them rinsing and drying their hands before they came back and stood behind Whumpee their head tilted forward to look Whumpee in the eye.

Whumpee shifted under their gaze, sore from staying in the same position for so long, his feet already numb underneath him and his neck ached fiercely from craning backwards.

“How’re you doing darling?” they asked with a grin.

Whumpee didn’t respond.

“Ready to move on then I see,” Whumper said more to themself than anyone else and straightened to pull two chains down from the mechanism in the ceiling. They attach each manacle to each wrist and cut the ropes that have been digging into his skin for weeks.

The basement air feels pleasantly cool on his torn wrists, until the manacles shift down his wrists and settle into place digging into his open wounds. Terrific.

Whumper cuts the rope holding his neck in place and he leans forward slowly with a groan, muscles burning from lack of movement now equally furious with being moved out of position.

Wary of Whumper, and not wanting to be viewed as trying to get a beating, Whumpee remained on his knees and only rolled his aching shoulders forward. Fuck they hurt, they had been bound with each wrist tied individually and a short length of rope connecting them to allow for some mobility but simply the act of shifting them from back to front hurt like hell.

“Awww, are you sore?” Whumper cooed at them.

Whumpee tensed.

“We just have a little bit left to do before tonight so up up, on your feet,” Whumper commanded with a grin.

Whumpee leaned forward with a groan and braced his hands on the floor to slowly stand. At his full height he was at least several inches taller than Whumper, who stood to the side of the room next to the mechanism that will raise the chains toward the ceiling.

The chains that right now have slack. The chains that might just let him reach Whumper and kill them with his bare hands.

Whumpee froze in place. His moment of opportunity slipping by without him doing more than freezing. They might kill him. If he tried that, they might kill him. Would that be better? No. No it fucking wouldn’t be. As long as he is alive theres a chance.

A chance he might’ve just fucking missed.

Whumper cranked the mechanism, unaware of Whumpee’s internal battle. His arms began to be pulled upward by his shackled wrists and he let them be tugged upward until they were hanging loosely from the ceiling at about eye level, spread in a vaugue ‘I come in peace’ way.

Whumpee flexed his hands anxously. Whumper began humming the tune to a pop song Whumpee was unfamiliar with as they began filling the bucket again with hot water. They pulled out a tall wooden stool that they once tied Whumpee to with his front exposed so Whumper could flog his chest, and set it up within kicking distance from Whumpee.

Whumpee doesn’t do more than contemplate knocking it down. If it comes to it, and Whumpee can’t take it anymore, he can knock it down to get a minute or two of respite. Not that there’s not gonna be hell to pay afterward, but having some semblance of a plan is comforting.

The water started overflowing on the bucket again, so Whumper shut off the water and tossed a sponge in it before hauling it out of the sink and setting it on the stool.

Whumpee watched with detacheted interest and was preparing to brace himself for unwanted contact instead of torture. His mental fortitude however, shattered at the sight of Whumper pulling out a switchblade and flicking it open with a practiced grace.

Whumpee’s breath stopped in his throat and he chastised himself for it. What, you think that the torture will stop for one fucking second as long as Whumper is in here with you? Are you really that nieve, thinking that this will ever not end in blood.

Whumpee took several deep breaths to calm himself as Whumper chuckled and moved toward him menacingly. He wrapped his right wrist around the chain suspending it from the ceiling and gripped it tightly, bracing himself for whatever Whumper is going to do to him.

Whumpee feels the cool blade against place where their stomache meets their hip and holds in a whimper. This is gonna suck this is gonna suck this is gonna suck plays over and over in his head, waiting for the slice.

Whumper chuckles as pats his hip in that same condescending, spooked horse, way and Whumpee wants to kick them. He could. They were well within kicking range, his legs are free and Whumper is about to hurt him. Why the fuck isn’t he kicking them? He should still be fighting. What a few weeks of consistant torture and beatings and he’s fucking conditioned like a dog. Great. Fucking fantastic to know that he’s so easy to break.

He looks down to see Whumper staring up at him with a look of glee on thier smug fucking face. Anger boils inside of him as they soak in all his expressions, fucker was probably gonna say ‘delicous’, he thinks in a mockingly highpitched voice.

“What are you waiting for!” he shouts at them. And he can’t bring himself to regret doing it, even when Whumper’s grin extends to a full out smile and they grab onto his hip to brace themself to cut him. He can’t regret shouting at them. He can’t.

He refuses to regret the only show of defiance he has given in days. So instead, he steels himself for the knife.

XXX

Their darling really was a masterpiece. How he blends defiance and obedience is fucking perfect.

Delicous.

Whumper chuckles and draws the knife down, cutting through the ratty sweatpants from hip to ankle in a single slice of the recently sharpened knife. Whumpee jerks forward and gasps, trying to curl in on himself but keeping his leg perfectly straight. His weight was already shifted to the other side in anticipation of not being able to stand.

They threw their head back and laughed as Whumpee opened their eyes and saw that his leg was in fact fine. If completely bare and leaving him, eh, exposed.

Whumpee flushed a beautiful shade of red - they should get a pair of heels that color, it would match so well with their blue suit - and spat out “fuckin bastard” under his breath.

In half a second Whumper was pulling Whumpee’s hair back and holding the blade to his throat.

“What was that?” They ask in a low and dangerous tone, right next to Whumpee’s jaw.

Whumpee remained silent, difiance overriding fear for a few extremely stupid seconds.

Whumper kicks his knee out from under him and he falls with a painful jolt, his knees inches from the ground with his shoulders and wrists holding all his weight. He sobs and tries to get his feet under him, but Whumper stops him by grinding thier booted foot down on Whumpee’s ankle from behind.

They lean down next to Whumpee’s face and say in an unsettlingly calm voice, “I don’t like repeating myself. What. Did. You. Say?”

Whumpee lets out a gloriously pathetic whimper, but remains silant.

Whumper sighs and mutters a ‘stay’, before walking over to a cabinet and pull out one of their favorite whips, designed to bruise and leave beautiful welts instead of lashes they would have to disinfect and clean and bandage and yadda yadda yadda. This was simpler, meant for quick but effective punishments or drawn out beatings.

And boy did their darling need a punishment.

“You already have four offenses Whumpee,” they punctuate it with a crack of the whip on the concrete floor while circling in front of Whumpee. “One for each swear word,” another crack, “and one for each time you refused to answer.”

They slipped the handle under Whumpee’s jaw and tilted his chin up to see tears dancing in his eyes.

“You don’t want a fifth, do you?” They ask in a low, gentle voice.

Whumpee shakes his head, careful to not accidentily dislodge the handle from underneath his jaw and further add to his punishment. He’s learning. Slowly, but he’ll get there.

Whumper cracks the handle of the whip across his face and grips his jaw with their hand. Squeezing their fingers painfully into his jaw. “Words Whumpee. Use, your, words.” They tighten their grip with every word. “Do you want a sixth?”

“No, no I don’t want a sixth, sir.”

Whumper released his jaw with a shove. “Then what did you say?”

Whumpee hesitates a second too long.

“Thats six, you must really be a glutton for punishment darling. Are you? Are you a glutton for punishment?”

Whumpee swallows, eyes downcast, “No sir, no I’m not a glutton for punishment sir.”

“You know I don’t like repeating myself darling, you have ten seconds to answer.”

Whumpee licks his lips and squeezes his eyes shut.

“Fucking bastard. I called you a fucking bastard sir.” Whumpee swallows and seems to brace himself for a slap.

Whumper grins to themself, this was going to be fucking fun.

“Thats four more, I think you’re finially getting the hang of this.”

Whumpee’s eyes open in confusion.

“Fucking. Bastard. Fucking. Bastard.” Whumper held up their hand, and lifted a finger for every word they said, “Four.” They shrug and let their hand drop, “You did this to yourself darling.”

They start circling around behind Whumpee again, soaking in the angry mess that was Whumpee. “What are we at then Whumpee?”

No answer. Thats eleven

“Whumpee, I asked you a question. How many offenses are you at?”

A soft “ten,” came from Whumpee. Twelve and Thirteen.

“What was that?”

“Ten.” Whumpee states, louder this time.

“Nope, now we’re at Fourteen. Keep up Whumpee. Jeez, I haven’t given you a concusion for a while, seriously.” They crack the whip again, barely an inch from Whumpee’s bare feet. “Now, what are we at?”

“Fourteen.”

“Good, thats good whumpee. You’re doing great, except now we’re at 15 because you forgot to say sir. Again.”

Whumpee shuddered and tilted his head forward between his outstretched arms. He was no doubt gritting his teeth and squeezing his eyes shut to regain some kind of control of his envoirnment, even something as small as shutting his eyes to the world around him.

“Now Whumpee,” They tap the handle of the whip against their chin, “ Just to recap and make sure we’re both on the same page, how many offenses are you at?”

This time Whumpee’s voice came loud and clear, “Fifteen sir.”

Affection bloomed in their chest and they stepped forward to pet their darling’s hair, the movement causing them to sway in their chains. “Good boy Whumpee! I knew you had it in you.”

Whumpee stayed completely still as Whumper ran their fingers through his hair.

“Now Whumpee, I do have to punish you. But I need to know that you’re learning from this,” They walk their fingers along his scalp, “so I can either give you 30 lashes, or I’ll give you 15 lashes and all you have to do is say ‘Thank you for punishing me sir, I deserve it’ after each one. How does that sound eh?”

Whumpee tensed more under their hand, they knew which he would pick, but it was important for him to see that there was always an option, always a way out for him if he ever needed it.

He took longer to debate than Whumper thought he would, honestly they almost expected him to wrench his head away from their hands and spit insults at them. But he doesn’t.

“Come on buddy, we don’t got all day. Choose and say please and thank you, otherwise it’ll be 60 and I’ll leave you up all night.” They put their other hand - still holding the whip - on his shoulder and touching his neck so they could have better leverage to claw their fingers through his still damp hair.

They felt Whumpee swallow and the vibrations from him saying, “Please give me 30 lashes, thank you sir.”

Whumper chuckled and backed up a few feet, “As you wish,” and struck.

Continued

#whump #nonbinary whumper #technically they are genderfluid but at the moment they are nonbinary #whumper #whumpee #torture #conditioning #creepy and intimate whumper #flogging #sadistic choice #sorta #noncon touching #noncon stripping #noncon nudity #nonsexual nudity #noncon bathing #spelling errors cw #I'll send you 10 bucks if you can guess the original prompt that inspired this because its completely lost #prolly gonna have a part two and three if I get around to writing them

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