whumpy-daydreams

[whumpy-daydreams]

I love when Whumpee has been with Whumper for a long time... and they no longer tremble in fear at the thought of what Whumper might do. They know what Whumper will do. They know what kind of pain to expect. They know the expression that Whumper will wear as they hurt them.

I love when Whumpee doesn't cower when Whumper comes in the room. When they don't try to get away. They know that they can't. They know Whumper will punish them worse if they try.

I love when Whumpee doesn't beg anymore. They curse. They spit and scream. Or sometimes they just go silent.

I love it when terror turns to rage.

I love it when rage turns to apathy.

[whumpy-daydreams]

Requested by @whumped-by-glitter

Whumping in EESU: Public humiliation

Newly designated pet whumpee being observed by owner and their colleagues, all gathered in a big office room.

Whumper listing their all of whumpee's political crimes, bragging about how dangerous they were and how great it is to have them caught.

State Security/Politburo/Party Committee whumper having a meeting, presenting their tied up and collared pet as an example of a state enemy and giving a passionate speech about ways of getting rid of them.

This goes without saying but whumpee used as a party entertainment - but not before being made to celebrate the achievements of EESU regime and cheer to the destruction of dissident movements. (Bonus point if whumpee was in one of them).

Whumpee with a singing skill forced to sing propaganda songs as their whumper and party guests clap and giggle at their attempts.

Whumpee forced to publicly declare their loyalty - whether stating that in front of their owner's department workers, giving a propaganda speech for the radio or taking part in a TV advert.

Whumpee forced to publicly beg for forgiveness and put on a regret display for their crimes. Especially if they were done deliberately by a spy or dissident whumpee, or whumpee hasn't actually done anything "wrong" at all.

Even after lots of humiliating sessions like that, they're still being treated as an enemy of the regime: poor class 4 whumpee may be secretly hoping to regain some of their rights yet under EESU laws they're still an enemy - forever.

Whumper taking a photo with their pet in a humiliating pose - with the whumpee on their knees or their boot stepping on whumpee's chest or head.

Whumper recording a film video of whumpee being tortured and handing it to State Security for watching how "spies and traitors" must be treated.

Whumper using their whumpee as the source of motivation for the department to fight political dissent and a sign of power they have over it.

An arrested spy being shown all the undisputable evidence of their work. Papers, equipment, ID cards from West countries' intelligence services, things they've used to sneak through the EESU border and mask their intentions - all on the table for the whumpee and detention personnel to see.

Newspapers and magazines announcing whumpee's arrest and declaring them a dangerous political criminal. (Bonus points if they're given to the whumpee to read).

A caught runaway class 2/3 whumpee paraded around their labor camp/commune as an example of what happens if one decides to attempt escape.

Whumpee had escaped from EESU and caught back; now they've been made to tell how horrible life in the West was an how much they regret running away from their dear homeland.

Whumpee being not allowed any privacy, having to undress, shower, sleep and do whatever they're told while always surrounded by the facility personnel. It can happen for different reasons - they're the beloved pet their owner can't leave alone, they're injured, aggressive or a high escape risk and need to be watched for their own good, or they're simply a class 4 subject which shouldn't need "human" things like privacy in general.

Medical checks in detention and the labs. Enough said.

Same goes for class 4 ear tags.

Public trials! of state enemies! forced to confess! all their imaginary crimes! for the audience to see and hear!

"Look at that, Whumpee. All your friends and family are ashamed of you. You were such a good worker, a Party member, you were your factory's pride - and then disappointed everyone you know with trying to destroy the government that gave us all work and bread in the first place! Where's your regret, Whumpee? Do you feel bad about that?"

[Masterpost link]

[whumpy-daydreams]

possible replies to:

"Are you going to kill me?"

"That depends. Are you going to cooperate?"

"Not for a long while."

"What do you think? Is the gun pointed at your head not fucking obvious enough?"

"Would be a shame to waste you like that."

"That's up to your friend over there. Better tell them to do as I say."

"Are you hoping I am?"

"I am not giving you that kind of mercy."

"Yes. Now stay still."

"Why would I do that when I could do so. much. worse.

[whumpy-daydreams]

Fight whump

content: beating, exhaustion, fear, gang whump vibes, recovery, PTSD

Whumpee fighting way too many people at once

Getting more and more tired. Knocked down with a loud cry when they hit. Getting back up slower each time.

When a third party enters the fight and whumpee just gets that set-jawed expression as they realize they might not get out of this one

when a whole new group of whumpers arrives and whumpee's body slumps. they had just started to hope.

Whumpers that just want to beat the crap out of whumpee to teach them a lesson

Whumpers that want to kill whumpee and whumpee knows they cannot afford to give up

Whumpee laying on the ground helpless and grimacing as whumper comes in for a home-run knee to the chest

whumpee getting thrown into things and vocal winces turning into groans

When they limp around after the fight holding the parts that got hurt

The looks exchanged between whumpers and whumpee. One threatening and snide, one dark and haunted.

[whumpy-daydreams]

I like inspections in whump. Not super detailed but detailed enough as to not be a once over but it isn't an exam. Nothing medical about it. Everything to do with upholding social standards whumper has set up!

YEAH I LIKE THIS TOO. I like the sort of livestock-y kind where they’re super clinical and rough about it but it’s not for anything even remotely resembling Whumpee’s own good.

[whumpy-daydreams]

“Now…we both know you have certain abilities, Whumpee. I just need you to tell me how they work…and you won’t get hurt. Sound like a plan?”

[whumpy-daydreams]

“Ah shit, hide me. They’ll kill me if they see me.”

“D’ya deserve it?”

“Of course I deserve it, but that’s not the point. I’ve got other business to attend to before I let them take me.”

[whumpy-daydreams]

Whump dialogue #44

"Alright," Whumpee called out as he heard the creak of the celldoor behind him. With the blindfold on he hadn't seen anything or anyone for days, but his captors did have certain tells. "Which of you fucko's is it today? The one with the rotten breath or the one who smells like cheap booze?"

The only answer he got was a solid punch to the face.

"Yeah, it's okay, dude," he sputtered as the blood flowed over his lips. "I'd have a drinking problem too if I had to do this every day."

[whumpy-daydreams]

Disturbing

Bookish - Prev chapter: Unreasonable - pt 1 here

-

Their mornings usually started the same. Roman was an early bird and often woke up before she did. And by the time he was dressed and ready to tackle the day (and perhaps some other things) Dani woke to the sound of him unlocking her bedroom door. Most of the time he didn’t linger; just left the door ajar so she could make it downstairs in her own pace. Unless he had plans. Once she too was dressed, but not as ready because she was, one, not a morning person and, two, often still recuperating, she hobbled to the kitchen where he would have prepared breakfast.

Usually.

Dani was already washed up and dressed, sitting on her bed, waiting for her door to creep open. Did he decide to sleep in? Was he out? Or maybe he was ill? Sweating up a fever in bed? Hell, maybe he died in his sleep? One could hope…

But then the door downstairs closed.

“Roman?!” She jumped up and shouted as she heard him come up the stairs. “Let me out!”

“Not today, love,” he said, patiently, tone soothing, standing just outside her door.

“What?!”

“I have some things I need to finish today. Tomorrow.”

It wasn’t the first time that he’d left her locked up. Sometimes just for a few hours, other times he only let her out to dash down to the fridge to scrounge up something to eat by the time he was getting ready for bed. But a whole day was new. She could imagine that their living arrangements were taking a toll on him as well; constantly having to be vigilant, looking over his shoulder, making sure she wouldn’t attack him or make off at an unguarded moment. Even when she was quietly reading in the library he often just looked inside to check up on her. Or joined her, to her chagrin. It made her feel like a child or pet that couldn’t be trusted. Still, she could acknowledge she was the bane of his existence. Proudly. So yes, she could imagine that he might need a break every now and then.

But you know, dickhead, maybe you should have considered your peace and quiet before kidnapping someone.

She pressed against the door. Rattled the handle. “What about food?!”

“You won’t die going without for a day.”

She growled her frustration and her stomach decided to join in the symphony. “At least give me a book!”

“No.” His voice sounded muffled and she knew he was already retreating back to his office.

She slammed a fist against the door. Rattled the door handle again, this time with more vigour, knowing that it wouldn’t do a thing, except make her frustration know.

Some things to finish, huh? Something that required your utmost focus. So much concentration that he couldn’t have her wander about as a distraction, hm?

Fine.

She slammed, kicked, and scraped at the door. With her fist, a flat hand, the heel of her foot, her elbows; anything as long as it made noise. The chaos soon died off without so much a shouted warning in response, and she fell into a steady rhythm of bonks that would surely annoy the hell out of him.

And after a while, that rhythm expanded to little melodies.

To spare her knuckles and bones, Dani scrambled together some instruments. A hairbrush, shampoo bottle, plastic cup, anything to bonk against the door.

She tapped out any song that came to mind. Started with the White Stripes. Thrummed the bassline against the door. Slow. With passion. Slammed her bottle and foot to the floor when the drums kicked in. Went full ham on the door at the end of the first verse. She gave him a few seconds peace to make him think she’d given up. Then followed up with Another one bites the dust. And We will rock you was hard to resist and she couldn’t help singing along, changing the lyrics a little, Buddy you’re a lowlife... Humming the rest. Big disgrace… Blood on your face. Strutting your ego all over the place. Still no response, but she had some more in her repertoire.

Not even ten minutes passed before angry footsteps stomped through her carefully constructed compositions (the Radetzky March now, for some reason). Just as she was considering how she was going to pull of Blur’s Song Two without hurting herself too much. Tough crowd.

She sat against the door, hammering her instruments back, and within a second Roman unlocked it and ripped it open, making her tumble onto the carpet of the landing.

Before she could even aim a mischievous look up, a hand snagged onto the neck of her collar with such force it could almost be considered a punch down, and yanked her to her feet.

“Up,” he hissed. His hand clamped around her neck as soon as she got her feet under her and shoved her hard towards the stairs. “Walk. Don’t make me throw you down.”

She walked ahead. Or rather, went along with his flurry of fury in a series of shoves and pushed directions by the claw around her neck. All under a loud chorus of “Okay, okay okay!” Down another set of stairs, to the basement. He was next to her in a second. His hand clamped around her upper arm in a vice so tight that it made her cry out. But her indignant “ow, ow!”s didn’t deter him. Nor did her flailing and pulling. He marched her to the centre of the basement, dragging her along, not even stopping as she dug her heels in. It only hurt her more.

He turned all of a sudden. And buried a fist into her stomach.

It punched the air straight out of her. Dani violently doubled over, nearly falling against him. The iron grip around her arm disappeared. And before gravity could pull her to her knees, Roman was happy to help out and shoved her down mercilessly.

Metal tightened around her wrists before she could even get her bearings. A click. A light struggle told her the handcuffs gave her very little leeway and kept her chained firmly to the hook in the ground.

Without a word, he stomped off, up the stairs. The lights went out. The door slammed shut.

Nothing but pitch black darkness remained. That and the cold, unyielding floor. And the lingering bruises. Okay, there was plenty to keep her company, but none of it positive. She felt each of his fingers lingering in now throbbing bruises around her arm and her neck, as if he was still pinning her to the ground. Dani let out a resigned sigh as she unfolded.

Was it worth it? Ten minutes of annoying the shit out of him, letting him know she wasn’t going to take this without a fight, versus a whole day sitting in darkness? Yes, was the immediate answer. Whether she’d still feel the same in about twelve hours was a whole different question. But Roman didn’t often lose his cool. So playing a small part in that was very satisfying. And that irritation would blaze through him for at least another hour or so, hopefully messing up whatever he needed to focus on.

Dani stretched out. Wiggled away from the hook so she could lay on her back, hands tied above her head. She wondered what he was working on. What was so important that he finish it today, without disturbances. Some new project he was working on? Setting up a new research? If there was a deadline, there might be other people involved… Who might also be working him up. Or she was just overthinking it.

The hours stretched by. Slowly. Dragging. Pangs of hunger coiled against her stomach but settled after a while. Thirst took over, claiming priority. Her mouth kept getting dryer and dryer. As did her throat, until every swallow felt like her throat was covered with sand. With her hands bound, she couldn’t shift far and her body protested against the hard floor. The cold seeped into her skin, crept further down to muscle and spread over her entire body until she started trembling. She curled up, unable to even hug herself to keep some of the warmth in.

There wasn’t much to do, except consider the consequences of her actions or take micro naps. She drifted in and out. And opened her eyes to the same darkness around her every time.

Until a light snapped on, so bright that it hurt her eyes. She turned away from the ceiling light with a hiss, the cave creature shunning the light. Footsteps came down the stairs, no longer stomping, but slow, patient; meaning he probably wasn’t angry anymore. Meaning… he might let her back up?

“I bet you’re thirsty.”

Dani carefully sat up. Roman stood in front of her, a full bucket dangling from his hand. The button-up from this morning was gone, he was wearing just a dark t-shirt, meaning it was probably late in the evening now and he was getting ready for bed, before realising he’d left something in the basement.

“I am,” Dani croaked, voice hoarse from disuse and a dry throat, but she eyed the bucket with suspicion.

Rightly so.

A smile crept over Roman’s lips. His other hand swept to the bottom of the bucket. He swung it back. “I thought so.”

The water crashed over her but at least she had the sense to open her mouth and swallow a mouthful to quench her thirst.

A thunk of the empty bucket. Footsteps retreating. A final clipped yet cruel mocking in goodbye. “Have a good night.”

Okay, so he was still pissed…

Dani sputtered. Lapped up the few drops of water that dripped down her face, over her arms, catching the streams hurrying down before they joined the rest of the wasted litres now soaking into the hard concrete around her. God, fuck, she couldn’t even wring out her shirt with her hands tied down. Cursed again because how fucking desperate was she by now?! Not desperate enough to lick the goddamn floor, she wasn’t! She could hold on until the morning.

…Thank god he was an early riser.

She curled up again. If the cold hadn’t already seeped into her bones, the added chill of the water made sure of it. Her clothes clung to her, quickly evaporating any bit of heat she retained. Soon she was trembling against the hard floor, her teeth chattering. No matter how she twisted and turned, every position sucked, pulled at muscles or prodded at sore skin. Curled up in a wet ball, she probably looked as miserably as she felt.

Tiny regrets bubbled up. She could’ve been lying in a warm bed by now. Hungry, yes. But not parched dry. Not freezing her ass off. Not fighting to find a tiny bit of comfort. And she knew there was no way that sleep would offer a bit of respite that night.

Still, she woke to warm fingers brushing over her chilled arms, moving down to her hands. A metal click. And the pressure around her wrists fell away.

Roman squatted down in front of her, looking well rested.

“Easy. Stay down.”

She didn’t need to be told twice. As soon as she shifted somewhat upright, she swayed, as if the dizziness pierced her foggy brain with a precise headshot.

He held out a bottle. Pulled back when she reached out, and said in a serious but chiding voice: “Slow. Drink slow.”

She nodded, earnestly, and he gave her the bottle. She took a careful sip and almost moaned when the cool water coated her parched throat. Resisting the urge to gulp it all down, she savoured small sips instead.

Half-way through, Roman took the bottle back, ignoring her yelp of protest, and pulled a large fluffy blanket draped over his shoulder. He folded it open in front of him, encouraging her to get closer so he could wrap her up. And she couldn’t resist the promise of a warm blanket.

She shuffled forward on her knees. Let him wrap her into the soft fabric. And allowed herself – and him – to fall into an embrace. Only to steal his warmth, she told herself. But she relaxed in his arms as he sprawled the blanket over her shoulders, rested against his shoulder. So warm… Her shoulders relaxed and she melted. A whiff of sharp scented soap hit her, a welcome change from the dry dust that had assaulted her nose the whole day, but it did bring her back to her senses. She broke the embrace. Looked at him. His hair was still damp. He’d probably taken his time, this morning, arse…

“Shall we try this again?” he murmured, rubbing her arms over the blanket and she winced as it made yesterday’s bruises flare up. “Go upstairs? Have a nice warm shower?”

She nodded.

Roman slowly stood, pulling her along with him. “Good. Then I’ll have breakfast ready.”

He steered her gently towards the stairs. “Like usual.”

-

Tag list: @firewheeesky @myfriendcallsmeasickwoman19 @whumpawink @painsandconfusion @whumpy-daydreams @whumpyourdamnpears @auroragehenna @alsolucakairomi @suspicious-whumping-egg @whumppmuhw @withdrawingramen @theforeverdyingperson @treasureguardingdragon @theorangestofjuices @chaotic-orphan @artfulbok @ehobep @theplutolvr @lolrpop @daggers-and-dangers

[whumpy-daydreams]

a guard on either side, holding them up by the upper arm so tight it hurts. dragged/frogmarched/stumbling forwards, trying to keep up. forced to kneel in front of the king, lounging in his throne. do they defiantly meet their gaze? look down at the ground, refusing to look up until forced? this is who will decide what their fate will be. are they scared?

[whumpy-daydreams]

[whumpy-daydreams]

Whump Prompt List: Intimidating Whumpee

Caretaker looked up to Whumpee. They're stronger, smarter, with a life they assumed was more put together than Caretaker's could ever be. Now that they've gotten properly closer to Whumpee, their opinions have shifted, but they still believe Whumpee could beat them in a fight any day. Caretaker will do anything to patch up their own personal guard.

"It... hurts..." Stoic Whumpee's gaze fleeted from Caretaker as they finished slurring words out of their mouth. Caretaker thought this day would never come.

Carewhumper pulled Whumpee's last string, now getting a taste of their own medicine. In their controlling state they never realized just how much bigger Whumpee was than them.

There is nothing that makes Whumper feel more secure in the world than gaining authority over a Whumpee who would naturally be far more powerful than them.

Excessive restraints on a villain/whumperee

"I'm still getting used to it." Whumpee stared in the mirror, feeling the new groves and texture of their face. The skin had long since scarred now. It still wasn't the face Whumpee recognized as their own. They lamented honestly to Caretaker, "They're all going to be so scared..."

The monster yanked on the chains binding them with all the force their exhausted body held. It failed, leaving them still chained in place, a pained snarl escaping from them. Caretaker approached slowly.

[whumpy-daydreams]

🥰 Whumpee who lets themselves be restrained 🥰

When they obediently cross their arms behind their back, and don't fight back as Whumper ties them together, even as a lone tear slips down their cheek. When they outstretch their wrists for Whumper to lock the cuffs around. Slacking their jaw and opening their mouth for the gag, or closing their eyes as the blindfold slips around their eyes...

...Yeah 🫶

[whumpy-daydreams]

robert sean leonard + blood in swing kids (1993)

[whumpy-daydreams]

The Room

Whumpee cowered in the corner, arms shielding their face. Blood from their broken nose smeared the concrete in front of them. “I’m sorry,” they whimpered.

“No, you’re not,” Whumper growled, looming closer. They drove a steel-toed boot into Whumpee’s unprotected stomach. Whumpee gasped, doubling over, pressing back against the wall.

“Say it louder,” Whumper ordered, raising their fist.

"I'm sorry!" Whumpee cried, shaking. “Really! I swear I didn’t—”

“Quit playing dumb!” whumper snapped. “Give me a reason I should keep you alive, after what you did.”

“I… I…” Whumpee stammered, eyes wide with terror.

“I think you need to be taught a real lesson,” whumper mused. They turned to the two guards by the door. “Take them to the room.”

“No—no! Please… Please!” Whumpee pleaded. Their gaze darted around the room, searching for an escape as the two guards approached. “Don’t!”

“Shut them up,” Whumper said coldly.

One of the guards stepped up to Whumpee, kneeling so they were face to face. “Open your mouth.”

Whumpee stared back, frozen with fear.

The guard grabbed Whumpee’s shoulder and gripped it painfully tightly, pulling them forward. “In case you forgot,” the guard whispered, “I’m the one with the gun. Now open your mouth.”

Slowly, cautiously, whumpee obeyed, squeezing their eyes tightly shut. A dirty rag was shoved into their mouth. Whumpee gagged at the acrid taste, cringing as duct tape was fastened over their lips. The two guards dragged whumpee upright, positioning them in front of whumper.

“Such a shame, to ruin a face like yours,” whumper said sadly. They traced whumpee’s bruised chin with a delicate finger.

“Mfffffhh,” whumpee protested through their gag, flinching at the touch.

“Oh, be quiet,” whumper said. “Go ahead, take them,” they commanded, waving a hand. Whumper watched with a smirk as whumpee struggled against the two guards.

(Pt. 2)

[whumpy-daydreams]

When whumpers casually bring whumpees down to their knees by:

Knocking the air out of them

Hitting the backs of their knees so they collapse

Easily pushing them down by the shoulder because they're already struggling to stand

Dragging them down by the hair

Holding a gun to their head

Tazing them

Threatening a loved one until they obey

[whumpy-daydreams]

Aftermath.