#angry whumper

[thatwhumpblogoverthere]

The look in whumper’s eyes after whumpee truly messes up. Truly fails. The look of pure and utter rage. Whumpee knew their evening just got so much worse. So so so much worse. The attempt to move back, to make space between the very pissed whumper and the suddenly terrified whumpee. Their back simply bumps into a wall, their heart racing at top speed. This was going to hurt. And they couldn’t do anything to stop or plead with whumper. Whumper, who wasn’t usually very kind and gentle to begin with. The grip on whumpee’s already bruised and tender throat, as they are yanked to their feet full force. And forced down onto something that makes them cry out. Hot coals, or something sharp beneath them, anything that could cause a shock. Their body jerks and tries to move, to run. But they had been taught better and the rage in whumper’s eyes is doubled. A needle is shoved into whumpee’s neck, hard and sharp and dizzying. The sensation of the poison, the medicine, whatever it was, taking over whumpee’s body. It makes their entire body tingle, feel weak and strange. Like they aren’t in their body anymore. Maybe it burns, it aches. Suddenly they can’t move. They can’t scream, they can’t cry. They can hardly breathe. Maybe whumper overdid it, maybe they were just too pissed to care. But the pain is immense and heightened to new levels as their arm is forced back at an odd angle. And all they can do is lay still and quiet. As their body is broken and whumper lets out their rage. Their anger. They have become a toy to be used. And they can’t even cry about it.

[whumblr]

Find them!

Good whump words in all variants. So have some prompts you can hear :) from calm and collected to most desperate.

- Whumpee hiding in a darkened room. They hear the door open, hear multiple sets of footsteps enter, getting closer, walking past. Then a calm "Find them".

- Whumper bending over, picking up the remnants of cut rope. He straightens back up, looks around. A click of the tongue. This is an inconvenience.

- A blood trail leading to the woods (Whumper: calm, with a smile. Caretaker: a little less calm)

- The captives have escaped, but the building is sealed anyway.

- The (snow) storm is getting more extreme and Whumpee hasn’t come back yet. "We have to find them!"

- Whumper has been signalled nearby and Whumpee (oblivious) is out.

- Caretaker realising in the midst of chaos that Whumpee isn't among them anymore.

- Whumper who has just been shot (bonus if sniper) or punched to the ground screaming in rage, "Find them!"

- Caretaker crying, pleading with the rescue team.

- Whumper slamming the door to their office open. Surprise :) the precious thingamajig / important documents / hostages are missing.

- Whumper finding the cell empty. And the bigger badder Whumper is waiting for them.

[defire]

Whumper pissed at them for something that's not their fault

Maybe their eyes remind whumper of someone they lost, and whumpee has to keep their eyes down to avoid reminding them

Maybe they have a tattoo that makes them feel like their own person so whumper targets that spot to associate it with being owned

A question where either answer will piss off whumper even more

[rizzoto-whump]

NSFWhumptober 2023 day 3 - Punishment @whump-world

CW: Noncon, generic Whumpee-Whumper

Whumpee moans Caretaker's name while they are being raped by Whumper

Whumper was of course annoyed, they grabbed strands of Whumpee's hair, then hit Whumpee's head on the table, causing Whumpee to get dizzy. Whumper doesn't like it when Whumpee mentions other people's names during their intimate moments

Or Whumper just laughed, giving Whumpee a stranglehold while saying, "Hey, it's a shame Caretaker can't see you like this."

Or, "Hey, you want me to invite Caretaker too?"

Or, "Hey, you want them to join us?"

[chaotic-orphan]

Febuwhump: Day Fourteen

Prompt: blood-stained tiles (febuwhump prompts)

TW: blood, bleeding, knife wound, gunshot wound, fingers in gunshot wound, knife mentioned, gun violence,

*~*~*~*~*

Whumper knew there was someone in his house when he reached his street. He frowned, hand going to the gun concealed under his jacket as he walked down the garden path. There were no signs of obvious entry, but Whumper knew. He could feel the slightly laboured breaths from inside. His frown deepened when he realised that he knew who those breaths belonged to. He took his hand off his gun and went for his keys instead.

He unlocked his door and stepped inside, dropping his bag by the door. He continued into the house, leaving the lights off. His intruder knew he was here, knew exactly that Whumper knew they were there. He left the lights off for more of a dramatic effect.

“I would advise against breaking into the house of someone who can detect you from streets away,” he said, turning to the intruder who sat with their back against Whumper’s oven. That wasn’t what drew his attention though. It was the amount of blood that was on his beautifully charcoal tiled floor. Whumper pulled out a chair and sat down at his table, staring at Whumpee.

“Do you know what’s really inefficient about you?” Whumper asked, reclining back against the chair while Whumpee fumbled in their pockets for something. Their hands came out, stained with the dark red blood, stark against Whumpee’s pallid face. Whumper noticed the white knuckled grip tight on a box of Marlboro as Whumpee pulled one out and dangled it loosely between their lips.

Whumpee kept Whumper’s gaze the entire time with their usual stare that was a melting pot of all Whumpee’s emotions; bored, superior, empty. Whumpee grabbed the lighter from the box, a shitty corner shop one with a skull on the side. The flame gave Whumpee’s face a little life, a little colour. It made their face a little more human, made the contours and the shadows darker but highlighted skin pulled over bone and muscle.

Whumpee didn’t reply as they cupped the lighter, more out of habit to shield it than any real threat of it extinguishing. Maybe to shield it from Whumpee’s own cold stare Whumper mused and laughed a little to himself at the thought.

Whumpee dropped the lighter into the box, then dropped the box onto the blood-stained tile they were currently bleeding all over making the charcoal even darker Or, more accurately, was bleeding all over. Whumper suspected their wounds had healed by now.

“Hey. Did you hear my question?”

“Yeah,” Whumpee replied. They let the smoke cloud their gaze and for a brief moment of reprieve Whumper didn’t have to stare into those soulless, dead eyes. “I heard ya.”

“You musing on the answer? Or are you thinking of answering in the next year?”

Whumpee scoffed. “You’re so needy, Whumper.”

“Yes,” Whumper replied deadpan. “I’m the one bleeding all over your beautiful kitchen right now.”

Whumpee didn’t reply. They just lifted their shirt as if only now remembering that they were injured at all. The wound wasn’t completely closed just yet, in fact… it looked as if it was still bleeding, but it would be another couple minute at least until Whumpee would heal. Whumper frowned at it, Whumpee healed fast – something like warning bells sounded in the back of Whumper’s mind but no… there was no way.

“Relax. I’ll be out of your hair in a minute.”

“The smell of your stale cigarette smoke, however, won’t be,” said Whumper with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. Whumpee’s left index finger twitched. An emotional outburst on Whumpee’s account.

“I’ll clean up after myself,” said Whumpee, taking a long, slow drag of the cigarette. The house was quiet enough that Whumper could hear the cinders sizzle at the end of the cigarette like a dozen little sighs. An extension of Whumpee’s mood.

“Oh please,” Whumper scoffed, getting up from his chair and stalking over to the light switch and flicking on the light. “You couldn’t clean up after yourself if there was a gun to your leg.”

“Head.”

Whumper blinked. “What?”

Whumpee let smoke out through their nose. “The expression is a gun to your head.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, Whumpee. Did I stutter?” Before Whumpee could answer the question, Whumper brandished his gun with a flourish and shot Whumpee through the thigh. Whumpee let out a strangled cry, bending over their leg with a string of curses as Whumper crouched so he was eye level with Whumpee. He placed the muzzle under Whumpee’s chin and tilted their head so he could look into Whumpee’s dead eyes. They glinted like sepulchre in the moonlight, lifeless and temporarily in pain. “To your head, was it?”

“I’m not here to fight.”

“No, you’re just here to bloody my clean floors and irritate me.”

“Whumper, listen—”

Whumper’s hand moved in a flash and a second later a bullet went through Whumpee’s shoulder. Whumpee’s ears rang like a bomb going off and distantly they were aware that they were screaming, their body curling around the gun on reflex. Whumpee’s hand shot up to grab onto Whumper for support. Letting out a long growling groan through gritted teeth, seething as they sucked in a couple of breaths.

For a while they stayed like that, like statues carved out of stone. Whumpee under Whumper, white knuckled grip on his arm, head against his forearm to take deep steadying breaths and breath through the pain.

After a couple minutes the ringing lessened. Whumper ran a hand through Whumpee’s hair and tilted Whumpee’s head back to look Whumper in the eye.

“I’m listening, Whumpee,” Whumper said with a sweet smile. “I’m still waiting for an answer to my original question.”

“How my power’s insufficient?” Whumpee asked, exasperated. Whumper’s hair tightened in their hair in warning. Whumpee searched their mind for some excuse that would satisfy Whumper. “Probably because it’s only healing and not immunity to pain?”

“Ehh,” Whumper said, mimicking the sound of a buzzer being wrong on a game show. “That’s the reason your power is so fun.”

To emphasis his point Whumper pressed the heel of his shoe into Whumpee’s thigh. Whumpee let out a groaning hum, hitting at Whumper weakly.

Whumper let his foot up and smiled sweetly at Whumpee. “No Whumpee, the reason your power is so inefficient is because of the mess you leave. If you could just not bleed everywhere, everything would be perfect, you know that?”

Whumper crouched again and dug a finger into the bullet hole in Whumpee’s shoulder. Whumpee let out a mewling cry of protest, but Whumper just kept hurting them. Whumpee grabbed Whumper’s wrist with both hands and for a moment they stopped Whumper’s painful intrusion.

A moment was all they needed.

“He’s back,” Whumpee said quickly, the words coming out in a pained rush. Whumper stiffened. Whumpee let out a stuttering breath as Whumper retracted his hand only to grip Whumpee’s jaw. Whumper stared into those cold eyes and found fear glistening behind them.

“He’s back,” Whumpee repeated. Whumper’s eyes widened slightly.

“What?!” Whumper demanded, his grip tightening on Whumpee’s jaw. “What do you mean he’s back?”

“I got home and he was just in my apartment,” Whumpee whispered, their voice wobbling.

Whumper let go of Whumpee altogether and stood with a short huff of air. “Why didn’t you just run?”

Whumpee looked up at Whumper. “He was waiting behind my fucking door, Whumper… with that vile flesh ripping dagger he loves so much. It wasn’t like I stopped to have tea and a catch up with him!”

Whumper glanced down at Whumpee again. Then crouched and lifted Whumpee’s shirt. The knife wound was still healing. Whumper remembers that blade taking days for Whumpee to recover from.

“You’re not even lying, are you?” Whumper asked, more to himself than to Whumpee.

“Why would I lie about this?” Whumpee asked, their voice taking on a slightly hysterical undertone.

Whumper’s grip tightened on the gun in his hand. Fingers curling ever so slightly more than he had to as Whumper slid the safety back on and tucked the gun into their shoulder holster. Whumpee didn’t speak anymore because they knew Whumper’s mind was whirling, thoughts forming, making leaps and jumps that Whumpee never could. Analysing every word Whumpee just said to get to the real reason he was back.

“Did he follow you?”

“No,” said Whumpee.

“Are you just saying that, or do you know for definite?”

“I don… I don’t know. Shit. Fuck, Whumper… I’m sorry I— I had to run, and I had to warn you and—”

“It’s okay, Whumpee. I doubt he’ll come. He will have known you ran to tell me after you left so there would be no point.”

“He’s going to do it again,” Whumpee whispered, “isn’t he?”

Whumper pinched his lips together and stood. “Honestly Whumpee? I have no fucking idea…”

“What are we going to do?”

Whumper straightened at the question, his easy confidence falling over his limbs like an entire costume rather than just a mask. His shoulders relaxing and his usual smirk on his face as he glanced back to Whumpee.

“Who’s the needy one now?”

“I’m serious.”

“I know,” Whumper replied. “Well, for now there’s nothing to do. Any bullets left in you?”

“No,” said Whumpee begrudgingly.

Whumper nodded. “Good. Then once they’re healed you can clean my bathroom and have a shower. I’ll wrap the knife wound for you and then we’ll… I don’t know, order a pizza or something.”

“You’re letting me stay?” Whumpee asked, their breath hitching.

“Of course.”

Whumpee’s entire body flooded with relief at Whumper’s matter of fact tone. They opened their mouth to thank, actually, genuinely thank Whumper when he spoke again.

“After all you’re the only one who can get close enough to kill him.”

Whumpee’s smile turned into a scowl as they wrapped an arm around their stomach and another, they hooked over Whumper’s countertop to hoist themself up. “You could have at least pretended that you were worried for my safety.”

“I’m worried about my bloody tiles, Whumpee, and how best to rid myself of two pests that refuse to leave me alone,” said Whumper, running a hand through his hair. He let out a long sigh.

“I knew today was going to be a bad day,” said Whumper. Whumper walked out the door and into the living room. “I’m going for a shower. You know where the mop is, and don’t – I swear for the love of God, Whumpee, if you bleed anywhere near my couch, I will kill you myself. Understood?”

“You’re such a dick.”

“I mean it,” Whumper said, holding a finger in the air in warning as he disappeared down the hall.

[dont-be-gentle-please]

Whumpee breaking things in whumper's house as an act of defiance.

Whumper watching and waiting patiently for it to end, drink in their hand, smiling as they think of how much fun will punishment be.

[whump-n-comfort]

when characters are so mind-numbingly angry that they struggle to get the words out around the glare on their face. when the rage is so all-consuming that they power through the grit in their teeth, making statements like "i'm going to kill you for this" and "you're gonna wish you hadn't done that" more potent 😍

the thing, though, is who is saying it? a loyal protector who's pissed you hurt their friend, or somebody that is making a character very quickly second guess their decision to stand up for themself 🤔

[auroragehenna]

Commision writing

CW/TW: Angry whumper, smartass whumpee, stabbing, threats of further torture, torture, implied fantasy racism, charming, DND whump Word count: 1'077

„I just like to wear them since I got them from a quest with a giant and a halfling. But I don‘t really need them. Everything below me though…They’re tiny. Definitely more necessity than fashion accessory. Well then, I have to go, safe travels.“

Fae didn’t notice the hooded figured following her out of the tavern. She walked towards the forest and quickly steered to follow a dirt path through its midst.“

The hodded figure, so long quietly following her, now bolted forward and tackled the young woman, using the element of surprise to drip a near-shining blue liquid from her fingertips into her mouth.

Fae let out a startled yelp as she was tackled to the ground. Her head hit the grass with a thud and the air getting knocked out of her lungs causing her to gasp and gulp down the poison.

„Aww what happened? Imp got your tongue?“

„Just surprised, that‘s all.“, Fae replies, hiding her growing horror as paralyzing numbness spreads through her body.

„That so?“, the hooded woman asks, clearly unimpressed. She roughly took a hold of the other’s arm and let’s it drop. Apparently satisfied she rises and her hood slides off her head. Exposing her black hair and sharp face. Yellow eyes pinning down her victim as she draws her rapier out of it‘s sheath. „So. Care to repeat what you said before?“

Fae tried her best at mimicking a shy smile over the paralytic. „What do you mean?“

Zestia delivered a fast blow over the length of the female's stomach. "Alright then, let's start with something easier. What's your name?"

Fae grunted in pain at the deep cut, it had felt reckless, careless even. "Fae. My name is Fae. What's yours?"

Zestia actually smirked a bit at that. "You have no right to my name. Now apologize for what you said before.", she demanded and pointed the rapier at Fae's face.

"I'm sorry I offended you, I truly meant no harm, please let me live.", Fae acted.

Zestia's face got hard. „Oh, I see. You're one that would talk their way out of everything, right?“ The Yuan'ti's eyes seemed distant as she spoke again. "One day you have to learn that talking won't save you."

Alright, change of plans. „Uff you learned that the hard way?“, Fae taunted.

Zestia‘s eyes lit up with rage and she stepped on Fae‘s throat, delighting in the choked sound it caused. The Yuan‘ti raised her rapier only to stab it down into the other‘s abdomen, right into the previous cut.

A mix between a groan and a poorly-supressed scream escaped Fae. Her eyes boring into her attacker's.

Zestia crouched down and in doing so leaned her body weight onto her rapier, widening the wound. „Anything else you wanna try, before I end your misery?“, she lured, hoping to get another foolishness out of her mouth so she could punish her further.“

The gears in Fae‘s head were turning. Amplified by the pain. What did her attacker mean by ending her misery?! Okay no, that was obvious. Shit, she had to come up with a plan. Why was this woman so fucking entitled? She had to be a noble of some sort. Maybe that will hit. "If I may speak…?“

„You don’t appear to do anything else.“, Zestia retorted pointedly, moving the rapier, deliberately slow.

„I truly regret I called you short, M'lady."

Zestia took a breath, closing her eyes to not close her hands around Fae's throat right here and now. Instead she opens them again, inspecting the girl laying underneath her. The paralytic should wear off soon...Good. Her eyes drift over Fae's pointed ears and the hotness inside of her burned. So instead of closing her hands around her throat she made eye contact, slowly removed the rapier from the girl's body-laying it down next to them both, and ever so gently plucked a loose curl out of Fae's face and to the side of her head. She silently urged the girl to keep her eye contact and continued petting her hair. "Ssh, ssh. It's alright. You can stop thinking."

Fae shortly held her breath as Zestia touched her hair. When she started speaking her eyes went wide. "I-I can't be charmed. My elven ancestory-"

Zestia lay a finger on Fae's lips, effectively silencing her. "Ssh, ssh. Yes, you can. By me, but don't worry, it won't hurt, you can just stop worriying. After all you're always doing that, aren't you? Gears turning, trying to figure everybody out, always calculating your next move. Worrying if people will like you. Its alright. You can rest now. Just listen to my voice." She can see her targets eyes go even wider in terror as she noticed that it really is working. She had never been charmed before of course. Gosh it was so hard to keep herself from grinning. She could basically feel the elve melt under her, apparently she hit a soft spot.

It was getting harder and harder to think and Fae was at a total loss. A feeling she never wanted to feel. Before there had been at least a rush, at least...But this-this was-no no. Bad. How could the voice of somebody that made her hurt so much feel so...warm!?

Zestia smiled. "Looks like it's really hard for you to relax isn't it. Let me help you, it must have been ages since you last felt safe. And so warm." Zestia stretched out two fingers and closed Fae's heavy eyelids. She wasn't even paralyzed anymore, but she didn't notice it.

Fae wanted to panic when the other closed her eyes, but it was impossible by now. And the darkness that now settled over her, took away her last bits of distraction. Oh no.

"It's okay now, you can rest, just listen to me, you did amazing. I never met one as strong and clever as you. I have to admit I'm impressed."

That's right, she was good at this, always had been. And now she was so tired, if she could just rest a little bit...Just a tiny moment...

Zestia grinned as she could feel her power take over completely. "There we go, smartass.", she murmured. She leaned back and quickly went to work. Cleaning her rapier before sheating it again and putting the minimum of bandages on Fae so she wouldn't actually pass out on the way before gently guiding her forward, repeating sweet nothings from time to time.

To be continued!

Taglist: @yourlocalgaefae33, @greatkittencloud, @bisexuawolfsalt, @imnotamurdereripromise

[whump3000]

Bloody Knuckles

Whumper wasn’t one to punch their Whumpee. It didn’t suite them to engage in something so inelegant as the common man’s punch. But this time, watching Whumpee smile, laugh. Hearing their taunting voice echoing off the cobblestones. Something in Whumper had snapped, the ice in their eyes relit with fire, spurred by their one coherent thought “make Whumpee pay.”

The silence was deafening now. Whumpee breathed as the world held its breath, listening to the sound of ice cracking and refreezing.

Slowly, Whumper lifted their hand, flexing their bruised fingers, watching just the slightest trickle of blood, dripping down their knuckles.

“You made me bleed.” They said, slowly turning their hand over, watching.

Whumpee hacked up a lungful of blood, trying to find the air to snap back. “You—” was all they were able to gasp before falling to the floor again, retching and choking and gagging.

“You made me bleed.” Whumper said again, pacing back and forth. “Nobody has ever made me bleed before.”

“Somebody had to.” Whumpee grimaced through missing teeth.

“There is no procedure for this.”

“So what are you going to do? Make one?”

Whumper stopped, staring Whumpee straight in the eyes. “Yes. But you will only be the first to pay.”

[definitely-not-a-seagull-i-swear]

hello peeps! I am soooo sorry for my lack of writing stuff for you. I’ve been super busy and I just got some time to sit down and write. I hope I’m not too rusty.

Cw: knives, blood, language, alcohol mention, lmk if I missed something

Whumpee let out yet another pained whine as Whumper ran their knife over Whumpee’s skin. It had been over an hour since Whumpee was tied to a chair and cut over and over.

“you know what I want Whumpee, just say it and it will all be over,” Whumper said, flipping the knife in their hand.

“f-fuck you,” Whumpee barely managed to rasp out.

“Hmm not exactly what I was hoping for” whumper said, walking to the other side of the room to take a sip of their whisky.

“I don’t fucking care- you asshole,” whumpee whispered under their breath.

“you should really watch your mouth, whumpee,” whumper said as they walked over, drink in hand.

whumpee spat at their shoe.

at this point, whumper was seething. So they did what any sane person would do. They poured their drink on whumpee and their cuts.

whumpee shrieked for what felt like hours.

Hey. Psst. You there. Like my content. Feel free to send in asks or prompt ideas anytime! Luv ya!

[pxppet]

With pleasure anon~

[CW: abuse, burns, severe distress, dehumanization, hypnotism mention]

———————————————————————

Chase didn't mean to! He doesn't even know what he did! All he did was pull up the stake holding his chain in place. He wants to tell Anti as much, to scream that he didn't know any better, that he's a stupid animal just like Anti says. But he hasn't been able to manage more than slurring ever since last night. Anti held Chase under hypnosis for nearly 12 hours at once, breaking down every chemical in his brain and rerouting them to do exactly as Anti needed for his fresh puppet.

Chase slides backward against the wall when Anti pushes him over, his back slamming into it as he stutters out nonsense. Anti laughs at him, that horrid wheezing noise from his silent puppet's throat. Chase has learned exactly what it means - punishment, pain, terror, hide yourself. He can't hide now though, on the dusty floor right in Anti's glaring gaze.

"Someone's been naughty," Anti's voice scathes. "Someone stepped outside the rules, yes. Someone's too stupid to know better. Someone's a stupid little dog." His throat sounds like he's choking on barbed wire, but Anti is smiling wide.

Chase lets out a fearful gurgle through his tears as Anti reaches to grab whatever's closest. The sparse fancy clothing JJ had been ironing before Chase came undone from his chain is the only thing nearby. The iron is still hot, just enough to scald. Anti grins, taking it by the handle and slowly turning to face Chase. Chase is so incoherent he barely registers it, confused and crying so hard he makes retching noises.

Anti waits for his usual pleas, those fearful begs he's come to love, but Chase just sobs, no words leaving him at all. Anti grits his teeth and steps closer. In faux gentleness, he leans down and caresses Chases cheek, trying to draw a reaction, any reaction. Chase only continues to sob with his eyes shut.

He feels a flood of fury at himself for messing his puppet's training up, and Anti's self loathing is only ever taken out on others. So he slams the iron down on Chase's bare thigh with a howl loud enough to match the one that comes out of Chase. Chase wails like he's being killed but makes no attempt to pull away. He knows to sit still during punishment even in his delirious state. Anti holds it there as the putrid smell of burning flesh puffs around them. Anti laughs wildly, lifting it up only to slam it down onto Chase's hand, pinning it to the floor. The head of the iron covers his entire palm and scalds his flesh.

"P-please," Chase begs at last, choked. "Please stop! Pl-please!"

Anti bares his teeth at him, still not satisfied. "You should've begged me when you had the chance." And with that he lifts the iron and swings the heavy metal hard against Chase's head, concussing him into unconsciousness, his body limply sagging against the wall.

Anti pants, staring at Chase's body until the anger passes. As his adrenaline dies off the smell of Chase's blistering, red-white flesh becomes obvious and disgusting. "Ugh," he pinches his nose. JJ, get out here and bandage him, he calls to the other consciousness. Jameson is silent in terror. Jameson fucking Jackson, Anti says, practically grabbing his husband's soul by its scruff as he throws him into control.

JJ blinks to full awareness and clutches his chest, heart pounding. He casts his wide-eyed gaze down at his master's pet, taking in the horrific blistering and almost neon red glows on his skin in the shapes of an iron's head. He touches his forehead, dizzy with the scent, and stumbles to the bathroom to gather bandaging and ointment.

Chase lays unconscious, slumped on the floor with his ruined hand twitching and weeping.

[whumblr]

Punishment

Continuation from Outside- pt 1 here

TW: vague rape threat

-

Dani stumbled along, letting Roman drag her back inside. She didn’t dare dig in her heels nor even attempt to pull at the vice-like grip around her arm. Even when she was sure he was going to tear it off. She was in enough trouble as it was. And no attempt of stalling or resisting was going to help.

Every now and then, her body did refuse to follow. It stuttered, as if the signal to her muscles caused a lag. Remnants of the electricity setting her system to complete haywire. She tripped over her own feet, sure that without Roman pulling her along she would’ve crashed to the floor already.

Her stomach felt even heavier when he held the door to the basement open for her, face like thunder daring her to disobey. She didn’t. And he let her go down on her own, following with heavy stomps on every step.

Roman paced up and down, irritation clear in his expression and his rigid posture. Though the narrowed eyes and weird steps could also indicate some remnants of pain lingering. Only fuelling his anger, unfortunately.

His eyes flared. “Now I’m not one of those idiots who compare a kick in the jewels to actual childbirth. But by god,” he exhaled hard and looked straight into her eyes, “I’m this close to try it out and get you to report in nine months.”

She paled at that, even though she knew he wouldn’t. And he probably couldn’t either, in his current state. But she swallowed any comments on that. Better not to aggravate him any further when he’s this pissed. Also, she had plans in nine months, actually; sitting in a courtroom watching him get sentenced to hell. Couldn't miss that.

So instead, she kept her tightened fists close to her side and looked down. “I’m really sorry.”

“No, you’re not.”

No. She wasn’t. She was pretty chuffed, actually. The feeling just was kinda overshadowed by this huge looming sword dangling right above her. But she still felt a touch of pride through that fear.

“You’re not sorry. And you're never going to be sorry, not even after this. I don’t expect you to. But at the least we can make sure even the mere thought of pulling something like this again will have you break out in cold sweat.”

Or in absolute hysterics... But probably only after she’d escaped this hellhole.

A backhanded fist caught her across the face and in her still wobbly state sent her right to the floor where she remained in a slight daze.

He snagged a fistful of hair, pulling her up, then grabbed her collar and marched her backwards until she felt his knuckles tighten in the fabric. She braced herself. Just in time as he slammed her into a wall. She buckled forward in pain, tensing her abdomen for the expected blow, but he merely kept her up and forced her shoulder blades back against the wall.

He inched closer. Knuckles tight against her collar bones, body pressing forward until she tried to squirm away, back against the wall.

“You wanna try that again?” he all but growled, voice still soft. He made himself awfully vulnerable right now, knee pressing at her leg, taunting her, knowing she wouldn’t dare.

“Don’t tempt me,” she choked out, eyes blazing, but she knew that if she even raised one leg she would buckle forward against him. She needed both feet firmly planted on the ground not to collapse.

“Oh,” he almost purred and pulled her in, still a tight grip on her shirt to make sure she was flushed against him and she felt his breath brush her cheek when he said, “I’ll make sure you’re never tempted again.”

He took a fierce step back, dragged her along, and threw her away from him to the floor.

Dani rolled along with the momentum, but everything happened too fast. Two swift footsteps. A flurry of movement. An explosion of pain against her ribs. It blew her back against something that didn’t give and she slumped against the cold metal.

Slower footsteps, away from her. Returning. She shook her head hard, trying to dispel the haze. Realised that she was slumped against the metal table in the middle of the room, Roman standing over her, preparing something on it.

She heard a snap, looked up and her breath stilled as she saw him holding up a syringe, a familiar blue vial.

A whimper escaped her. She tried to scoot away from him, but Roman barely looked down and stomped down hard on her wrist, keeping her pinned. “No,” he tutted as he felt her pull under his foot, and shifted his weight on it without looking, eyes back on the syringe as he slowly drew in the blue liquid. He flicked a finger against the glass, put it down, and sank down to his knees.

The hand went right for her throat.

“No…” she started. She struggled against him, hands up, trying to push him off, flailing as he tried to catch her wrists. “No, no, no—” He slapped her hard, scooped both wrists up in one hand and pressed them up above her head, pinning them to the ground. He reached up and the blue-filled syringe glinted in the light. “No…” she mewled again as she felt the harsh prick in her neck, but it was already too late.

The pressure on her wrists let up and Roman scrambled back to his feet. He stood over her, looking her straight in the eyes as he rummaged in his pocket. And he pulled out the remote for the electric device around her ankle.

Dani paled. Braced herself. But nothing hit her yet.

“Do it then,” she croaked after a beat, but he merely stared her down, steel glint in his eyes, finger on the button. “Go on! Do it! What are you waiting for?!” And she hated how her voice cracked.

“For the serum to take effect.”

His calm voice punched the breath out of her. Agonising seconds passed, all the while they kept eye contact, both waiting.

And she felt it. It was like the bruise on her cheekbone lit up. Like a light bulb, gradually shining brighter. As if it was growing in size, blood rushing in, the pressing tight sensation pulling at her skin slowly turning to discomfort, to pain.

And only when she winced, Roman smiled. And pressed the button.

Fire shot through her. Hotter, fiercer, more paralysing than before. A garbled scream just about made it to the top of her throat before everything contracted and it died off with a squeaking choke.

She couldn’t breathe! Pain fired through her and she couldn’t let it out in a scream. She’d lost all control over her body, merely lay there on the hard floor, spasming hard, convulsing, all the wrong muscles activating and literally keeping a death grip on her body.

Until it suddenly let go of her and it was like she fell from a great height. Her back hit the floor, punched out the remnants of her scream, and she gasped hard now she could finally breathe again.

“No…” she wheezed, scrambling back from Roman as if it would help. He still had that hard glint in his eyes. “Don’t, not again, I can’t breathe, I ca— You turned up the setting didn’t you?!”

“I did not,” he merely said. Which could be a lie, for all she knew; that serum was supposed to enhance the pain, not the amount of watts taking hold of her muscles.

Another round of pain slammed into her. Burning her from the inside as it clawed for a way out. It felt wrong. Dangerous. As if the crackling electricity stabbed and burned holes into her veins as it seared through, frayed her nerves. It had to stop. Stop! Before it actually would cause damage.

“Do try to bite through it, love,” Roman teased. “If you manage to get out an apology again, maybe I’ll accept it this time.”

“I’m sorry!” Dani choked out as soon as she could. “I am! I—no, don’t, please, it won’t happen again!”

“No,” Roman said, nodding, as he pushed the button again. “It won’t.”

-

Tag list: @firewheeesky @myfriendcallsmeasickwoman19 @whumpawink @painsandconfusion @whumpy-daydreams

@whumpyourdamnpears @auroragehenna @alsolucakairomi @suspicious-whumping-egg @whumppmuhw

@untethered-symphony @withdrawingramen @theforeverdyingperson

[defire]

Back to the Dregs Part 3

Part 1 Next:

Overall story Cw because I forgot to add this earlier: beatings, kidnapping, captivity, gang violence, explicit rape, nonconsensual nudity, forced to watch, memories of child abuse, flogging (after a fashion)

Cw (for this part): beating, kidnapping, reference to broken bones

Listening to the rumble of the truck's wheels under the floor where his face pressed, Michael felt like he was drowning in panic and flashback.

This isn't who I am.

I'm not six years old with a mom that hates me. I'm not twelve with a backpack full of drugs.

I'm a man. I have a job. I have a guy on my side, and coworker that… well, I like him.

Michael wasn't that helpless kid anymore, no matter how trapped, angry, panicked…

He squeezed his eyes shut as if he could block out the feelings and focused on rotation of the wheels under his head.

The singing of a highway meant they were now probably going around sixty. If he could find a marker for time, maybe he could figure out how many miles out from Cleveland they'd gone based on miles-per-hour, and then he could make a few guesses about what area they were in when they arrived.

His wrists and arms hurt, stressed and sore, with the hard plastic ziptie digging into his bare skin and the circulation slow and pulsing.

He groaned and got to his knees, lungs aching with the deeper breaths.

"Stay down." Someone warned.

His old instincts told him to obey, stay quiet, hunker down, and hope for mercy.

Fuck that.

Michael wasn't that kid anymore. Anything but that; anything to get away from that old identity that he hated.

Even as he pictured being crushed and beat down under six people, hands tied behind his back, bones breaking, he was getting to his feet.

He staggered a step back as he rose, and an invisible hand swiped in front of his face in the blackness. His back thumped against the wall, and his fingers were too numb to sense the metal that chilled his forearms.

The second swipe got him by the shoulder, and a punch immediately followed up, sending him back down with a wail of pain, this time falling onto a pile of tires halfway to the floor.

"Turn on a light, will you Gabe?" Jordie's voice came out of the darkness.

Gabe didn't answer, but there was a click and the truck, which was now rumbling away from Michael's house, was lit up by one of those stick-on LED lights, which was stuck to the ceiling.

The light showed Gabe and three others in the back, and two much scarier thugs in the front. One was the first guy with the gun. The one on Michael's right, Jordie, he was pretty sure, was wrapping his knuckles with medical tape.

"Thanks." Jordie said to Gabe without even glancing back. He was glaring at Michael as he wrapped the white tape around his knuckles, not even looking down to check his technique. If he kept that roll of tape in his pocket for occasions like this, Michael was not surprised that he had a lot of practice.

"You bust my lip," Jordie said. "I bust your jaw."

Michael's eyes widened.

"Fuck, wait, I was only defending myself--"

"Now wait, Jordie," The first man put a hand on his arm. "We need him."

"Then let's record me breaking his jaw." Jordie shrugged, reaching for Michael, who recoiled back reflexively, only to hit the wall with his back.

He had to fight back. Being known as a fighter could make people decide that you weren't the trouble of fucking with. Besides, it was much better for his mental health than just taking it.

The man's hand closed around his jaw, middle finger jabbing into his cheek, pressing into his molars.

"We need him to be able to talk, Jordie."

Jordie's eyes sparkled with rage.

"I'm not taking whatever you dish out." Michael pushed the words out through his teeth.

Gabe, back in the other side of the truck, chuckled.

"Took it pretty well back there."

"Fuck you."

Michael attempted to get to his feet again, but Jordie struck his head against the metal side of the truck.

"Alright, fine," Jordie said, not letting go. "I won't break his jaw."

Let me know if you want to be tagged

Taglist: @fleur-a-whump @watermelons-dont-grow-on-trees @whumped-by-glitter

[kira-the-whump-enthusiast]

The Price of Silence - Diamonds to Dust Ch5

Synopsis: Lusik’s pretty determined to get some information out of her captive, with the help of her trusty knife. Storm’s not giving in that easily, though.

Content: Interrogation whump, torture for information, lots of slicing and slashing with a knife, angy whumper, stoic whumpee (or at least, Storm’s trying to be)

Taglist: @whump-queen @ghostsinthecloset

—

Lusik slams her hands forcefully down on the table, startling her prisoner. They look up at her with weary eyes and a straight face through matted blue hair.

“Answer my question!” she demands.

Storm says nothing, as they’ve been doing for the past hour. It’s incredibly frustrating, but Lusik is determined to keep her cool. Though, when she uses her knife to make another long cut across their arm, she can’t help but dig the blade in deeper than usual. Storm winces sharply, giving Lusik some temporary satisfaction.

She’s going to have to stop soon, though. Their arms and hands are covered in dozens of little cuts from her knife. Blood pools in the lacerations and drips down onto the table that they’re handcuffed to. If she goes too far, then they might lose too much blood.

Lusik stares straight into Storm’s eyes with a frosty expression. “There’s no reason for you to not say anything.” As she asserts this, she slices the back of their hand, crossing over a previous cut she made.

They still don’t say a word, but she notices Storm breaking out into a cold sweat, straining to not cry out in pain.

She’ll break them soon, she swears on it.

Lusik wanders around the table and stops when she’s standing behind them. “It’s such a small question,” she sighs. “Do you live with Xavier Hsu, or do you not?”

Still nothing but dead silence from them. Lusik scowls and drags her short blade through a cut she already made on Storm’s shoulder. She takes her time, using a sawing motion to really make it hurt. Storm flinches and lets out a quiet cry of pain, and her mouth curls into a smirk.

“You know you’re stuck here, right?” Lusik remarks. Storm stares at the wall, away from her, stone-faced.

Without warning, she grabs them by the hair and pulls their head up, exposing their throat, and hovers her knife just over their windpipe. Storm’s eyes go wide with fear and panic, and they tremble and thrash around, fruitlessly trying to escape her grasp.

“Wait—wait, I—” Storm stutters out, voice raspy from disuse and dehydration.

“Yes?” Lusik encourages, interested.

Storm opens their mouth like they’re about to say something. But after a few moments, they clam up, pressing their lips tightly together.

Lusik can’t fucking believe it. She was this close, she knows it! She starts to see red, wanting nothing more than to crush their ribs into pieces, but instead, Lusik works to channel her anger into making her words as vicious as possible.

“Nobody’s coming for you, you know that?” Poison coats her every word. She slits the skin just under their collarbone, and they let out a low whimper.

“The only people who know that you’re here? Are you, me, and the guards outside the door.” It’s not remotely true, but Storm doesn’t know that.

Storm shakes their head. “Xavier… he’ll…”

“Never find you.” Lusik interrupts. “So give up on this obstinate little act of yours. You’re my prisoner, and you’re gonna be for a long time.” She tightens her grip on their hair to make sure they’re paying attention. “I suggest you don’t make it too painful for yourself.”

“So, are you going to answer my question, or are you going to continue being difficult?”

Lusik waits for a response, but the silence is deafening. Storm’s expression is contorted in fear, yet they still refuse to talk.

She grits her teeth. God. Fuck this. She has other places to be and better things to do than waste her time trying to coax secrets out of someone too stubborn to spill them.

In a final flash of rage, she slams their head down into the table with a loud bang. Storm lets out a disoriented yelp and looks up with a dazed look on their face. Blood drips from their nostrils, staining their face.

“We’ll continue this tomorrow,” she hisses before striding out of the room, slamming the door shut behind her.

—

AN: Yeahhh first proper torture chapter >:)

Next chapter I’m gonna introduce the final main character (or, well, final for now) and then we’ll have the whole cast!!

[justbreakonme]

The moment the whumpee watches the caretaker, the kindest, gentlest, most loving person they’ve ever meet, absolutely OBLITERATE the whumper is a trope I will never get over.

[whump-place]

"Caretaker, please, i beg you! You saved Whumpee, please-!"

"Shut up at once, you sick bastard! Look what you did, this is all your fault!"

Both Whumper and Whumpee shivers when they see Caretaker holding Whumper's favourite whip on their hand. Maybe Whumper should have hide it better.

"Whumpee, wait outside"

"Caretaker-"

"I said: wait outside"