#strong whumper

[delicateprincepaper]

exhaustion whump

literally the best thing ever

A enemy soldier trying to fight back but too weak and hurt to do anything but squirm or flinch as they are captured. Roughly with carelessness for their useless struggles or gently understanding that they can’t do any harm in this state.

hanging from ropes. When they are released they flop into the ground, unable to support themselves.

a defiant whumpee looking up with fear and exhaustion. Just weakly glaring and twitching away from whumpers hands.

being pinned to the ground by someone much stronger and more skilled than them. Giving up and stopping struggling because what’s the point? It’s not like they can win this fight.

A soldier dragging themselves to their feet. Bone tired and shaking but too stubborn to give up.

[whumpingisfun]

Whumpee cries out, thrashing in the taller man’s grip as they’re pulled back flush against Whumper’s chest, back arching as they try to squirm away. But their wrists are fully engulfed by the man’s grip and they’re easily lifted up off their feet, as heavy as a standard box of paper, and left to uselessly kick in the air, squirming.

“Now, aren’t you being naughty, whumpee.” Whumper scolds.

Whumpee freezes in fear and then begins to thrash harder, shrieking as Whumper drags them off to the workshop.

[jordanstrophe]

A dangerous whumpee, imprisoned in a cell designed to be inescapable. Whumper glanced through the bars to see whumpee draped comfortably a chair fiddling with their phone.

"-Why do they have their phone?!" Whumper snapped at their henchmen.

"We couldn't get close enough to search them, and we can't go in there without breaching containment."

"Are you kidding me, they could be calling for help!" Whumper barked.

"I'm playing crossy road. I don't have cell service and your wifi sucks." Whumpee said without looking from their phone.

[lumpsbumpsandwhumps]

your new bank robber boyfriend kidnapper btw. if you even care.

[befuddled-calico-whump]

Spy/Team Leader whumpee shrinks themselves for a high-stakes intelligence mission, but something goes wrong and they get caught

- Normally they give their enemies a hell of a fight, but now all it takes to restrain them is the weight of a hand, or even a single finger, and it's frustrating

- Whumper has to build a doll-sized interrogation set. While they feel ridiculous, it's worth it to watch their enemy struggle

- Needles instead of knives, a glass of water instead of a tank, a breadboard and a battery instead of expensive electrocution equipment... maybe whumper should invest in a shrink ray

- Not to mention the dramatic difference in size and strength. Where whumpee would normally be full of insults and banter, they seem a little too scared of being crushed to say anything too dramatic

- Whumpee is freed by a stranger, but still unable to get to their normal size until they reach their base. Despite being rescued, they still don't feel safe

[whumpdaydreamerx]

A Caretaker, who is either really strong or supernatural, and is usually able to take anything thrown at them, no matter if it’s a trap or not. They’re used to barreling through situations in order to save their Whumpee, and come out fine, no matter what happens to them.

This time, however, Whumper has set the perfect trap and has Whumpee ready as bait. They’ve figured out a way to finally subdue Caretaker and incapacitate them. Whumpee thinks it’ll be okay even after Caretaker gets hit, thinking they’ll get up to dust themselves off like they usually do. 

Instead, their hope dwindles as they see Caretaker, still sprawled on the ground unable to get up. They see them breathing rapidly with their lips parted and eyebrows furrowed, trying to deal with the pain. Whumpee’s oh shit moment when they see Caretaker try to get up, but it only results in agony, causing them to sink back down and writhe in misery.

[in-love-with-writing-whump]

TW: Implied Abuse, Strong Language

Caretaker couldn’t find Whumpee anywhere. They'd been searching the seedy part of the city— this is where they lived?— all night after they had stormed out after an argument, and still nothing. Caretaker didn't like this place, all grimy and full of faces that smiled with too many fangs to be human. The bars clamored with the worst type of clientele, and though their coat did little to protect from the cold, and the warmth enticed them, they ignored it.

They heard some murmuring from a small crowd, and their stomach turned to lead. They pawed their way through the crowd, glaring up at the jostling gossipers. They parted through the sea of people, finally able to see.

Whumpee laid there, still dressed in the less-than-winter-appropriate outfit from earlier, blood matted into their hair, skin all scraped up and bruised. One of their eyes appeared swollen shut, blood dripping from their split lip as they trembled in their unconscious state.

Caretaker shoved the people around them back. "Get the fuck out of here! Don't you have places to be?!"

The crowd grumbled but dispersed upon seeing Caretaker's gun. They crouched before Whumpee, cautious not to touch them. They didn’t want to scare them, instead letting Whumpee see their hands.

"Whumpee?"

They let out what sounded like a whimper, eyelids fluttering but never fully opening. Caretaker had a million questions, but sighed, pinching the bridge of their nose. They already knew have the answers, and besides, they weren't going to get much out of them like this anyway.

Caretaker stood up, shrugging off their coat, thankful for the thick top they had on underneath. They laid it over Whumpee, holding back a cry at how small they looked like that. They weren't supposed to be small.

"Whumpee, I'm going to pick you up now. I'm going to bring you home, alright?"

Their face scrunched up, voice too hoarse. "Whumper... No, please..."

Caretaker knelt back down, eyes burning as Whumpee's arm flailed, not hitting anything, just revealing more bruises and cigarette burns.

"I'm here now, Whumpee. Whumper won't hurt you while I'm here. I'm right here."

They gingerly scooped Whumpee up into their arms, wincing at how hollow they felt, like a strong breeze would blow them away. Whumpee's face nestled into Caretaker's shoulder, and as Caretaker carried them back home— their real home— they let that act as the smallest insurance that they might be okay.

[ashintheairlikesnow]

I would love to see more Chris, and especially with Branch now we know that bastard is deep in the ground

Yeah, Oliver Branch is so very, very, very dead. That was a fun day for us all.

CW: Creepy whumper, intimate whumper, Oliver Branch is gross, BBU, forced alcohol consumption, minor whump (whumpee is 17), some gross implications here

-

"They should have a Pets Unlimited feature," His Sir muses, stirring the little stick with the olive speared through it around and around the slightly-tinted liquid in his martini glass. Baldur watches it, his mind too slow and foggy for the words to sink in immediately.

There's a delay before Baldur, kneeling on the floor before his Sir's chair, tips his chin to look up. At first, Sir is blurry and completely out of focus, but when he tries, slowly the details come together. "... a what?"

"Oh, probably not that, I'm sure they'd get sued for copyright infringement," Sir hums, picking up the toothpick and biting the olive right off, bleu cheese stuffing and all. He leans down and feeds Baldur some of the olive-stained vodka, until the boy coughs and Sir laughs at him, stabbing another olive from a little bowl on the table beside him and feeding Baldur that, too.

The squeak of olive and tang of the blue-veined cheese makes his stomach turn, but Baldur refuses to show it. He hates olives, but Sir likes them, so Baldur has to like them, too.

"But..." Sir hums, sitting back. His legs, kicked out on either side of Baldur, shift around behind him, locking his ankles to pull the boy closer, until he's pressed right up against the fabric of the chair. "You know what I mean."

Baldur has no idea whatsoever.

But he nods, slowly, keeping his eyes firmly focused on his Sir's face.

"I don't think I could afford it even if they did. Hell, for all I know the damn concept is already in place, and I'm just not rich enough or enough of the 'in group' to be offered." Sir laughs, a deep, rich, warm chuckle that runs like honey down Baldur's back, settles into his mind and smothers his thoughts. His eyes close as Sir pets fingers through his copper hair, shivering. He thinks he likes the touch.

He doesn't.

But he has to, so he does.

"Order one, keep it until I'm done with it, until you're too old, until you start to look your age... then send you back and get the next one. I'd pay for that kind of convenience, if I could. Which I can't. But wouldn't it be nice?"

These words, he knows. These words aren't honey - they are sharp and spiky, terror that has his eyes flying back open. He puts his hands on Sir's knees and shifts upwards, straightening his spine. "Sir? You... you would... send me back?"

The fear breaks through the daze he lives his days in, the only feeling he has with any strength anymore. He used to feel other things, he thinks, besides fear and the odd need that gets forced out of him. He's sure he did. Once.

"Oh, Baldur, darlin'." Sir sighs, as if he's being silly, a stupid little slut with no thoughts in his mind. He rubs a thumb along the line of Baldur's jaw, along his bottom lip, watches with amusement as Baldur tries to follow it, to somehow earn the forever that is supposed to be part of the promise of the program.

You signed up for this, and now you'll be taken care of.

"Sir..." He whispers, desperate for reassurance.

What he gets instead is Sir's smile, widening like a monster's until it feels too big for his face, and Baldur can only go still and silent as the glass is tipped against his mouth again, and the vodka burns down his throat and runs cold out of the corners of his mouth, trickling over his jaw and down his neck.

He chokes on it.

It's too much too fast, as much in his lungs as down his esophagus. He coughs, bent over with the force of it, and droplets spatter across Sir's pants and his shirt. Baldur's eyes burn, his heart pounds, and he gasps. "Oh... oh, no... Sir, I, I'm sorry-"

"Ssssshhhhh. It's all right, sweetheart, don't worry... it's all right..." Sir shakes his head. "It's okay, darlin'."

Baldur's mouth is trembling and he can't stop the little coughs that keep bubbling up, how his stomach flips and drops. He can't throw up. He can't. He'll be whipped bloody if he does, he always is when he throws up. His fingers tighten into Sir's pants until his knuckles are white as he fights the violence his stomach keeps threatening.

Sir waits, patient as a tiger watching prey take a drink at a stream, fingers moving gently through Baldur's hair, again and again.

Only when Baldur goes quiet, finally getting his body until control, does Sir murmur, "I wonder who'll find you when I'm done, and what they'll do to you, then."

His smile is soft and sweet and Baldur stares up into his eyes helplessly, hating every single second. This time, it's the vodka bottle that he forces against Baldur's lips. It's pure clear burn that he has to swallow. The world dips and spins around him, but his heart keeps racing.

"... I wonder," Sir says, voice nearly a whisper, "How long you'll live when I don't want you anymore."

-

God, I'm so glad that guy is dead now.

[catchildren]

Caretaker helping Whumpee escape and is forced to face Whumper's wrath alone. Realizing just how fucked they are, and whether it be through brute force, convenient blackmail, or a simple emerging thought that no matter how much they sympathized with Whumpee, it wasn't enough to put their own life on the line.

Whumper pretends to be benevolent, insists that if Caretaker aids in Whumpee's recapture, then they won't face as harsh a punishment for their disobedience. So they do so, however reluctantly. And Whumper thanks them afterward, their voice syrupy sweet as they insist that Caretaker stay for just a moment longer.

Whumper never said they were going to do away with a punishment completely, after all. And what better way to drive it all home than to let Caretaker watch (or even help) Whumpee get broken in again? More brutal than usual, of course. A preventative measure to make sure silly Whumpee doesn't get any ideas about seeking help from Whumper's protégé again.

[hey-that-hurt]

When the villain first entered the room, they didn’t speak. Instead, they walked to either side of Whumpee, inspecting them, gaze wandering up and down, lingering on the chains at their wrists and ankles. Whumpee made sure to stand up tall and proud, doing their best to communicate a lack of fear, though they couldn’t stop their eyes from tracking the villain’s movements. They longed to lunge forward, to defeat their opponent with a single mighty blow and run, but they’d already learned that the chains would easily halt any such attempts. The bruises under the cuffs were proof enough of that.

Finally, the villain came to a stop in front of Whumpee. When Whumpee met their eyes, they smirked.

“Kneel.”

Whumpee couldn’t help but bark out a laugh. “Kneel? You lot are even more foolish than I thought if you think I would follow even one of your commands.”

The smirk grew into a grin. “Oh, I am not the fool here, hero.” The villain pulled a radio from their belt and spoke into it, still smiling. “It seems our guest hasn’t realized what’s at stake here. Make sure to kill one civilian during your patrol tonight. Someone who won’t be noticed, of course.” With a click, the radio turned off and was returned to the belt.

Whumpee’s next breath caught in their throat. They went to step forward, but the chain caught and they stumbled, nearly falling. Their eyes were wide. “No— no! Why would you..? This is a trick, isn’t it. A lie. There’s no reason for you—“

“Oh, you know that’s not true, hero. Haven’t you been keeping up? My reason is right here.”

They paused for a moment, allowing Whumpee to come to the realization that there was little reason to doubt the validity of the threat. They shivered, steeling themself once more.

“Now, unless you’d like to test me again, I believe I issued an order.”

Whumpee lowered one knee, then the other to the floor, glaring at Whumper all the while. They looked up at whumper to find an expression filled with both violence and affection. Swallowing felt difficult, as though they were going to choke.

Whumper stepped forward, resting their hand softly on Whumpee’s shoulder, then letting it creep towards their neck. Light fingertips turned to fingernails digging into skin. They were standing more than close enough for Whumpee to knock them out, search them for a key. That would probably be the best course of action. They could escape, come back immediately with a team. Take down the villains before anyone else could be hurt.

But…

Would the villains be careless enough to let them escape that easily? Maybe not.

Still, heroics often meant weighing risks. Maybe people would be hurt if they were caught escaping, but knowing this group, allowing them to roam free was even more dangerous, down the line. They couldn’t let threats stop them from taking these villains down. And they really, really wanted this person to stop touching them. They were feeling sicker every second.

They swung up their hands and slammed them to the sides of the villain’s head, dazing them, then pulled the chain tight around their neck, waiting, waiting, one hardly breathing and the other not at all, until finally they could be certain the villain was unconscious. They checked for breath, then a pulse— still perfectly alive— then searched the belt for keys.

Then the jacket.

Then the pockets of their pants.

Then……

Someone young and scared came to pull the villain out of the room shortly after, making sure to stay out of reach. Whumpee didn’t move, keeping their hands still and gaze lowered.

They weren’t surprised when Whumper reentered what must have been hours later, though no bruises were yet showing behind the scratches at their neck. They’d anticipated anger, but instead, Whumper was chuckling as the heavy door closed behind them.

“Well shame on me I suppose for expecting you to be smarter than that. Live and learn, as they say. Speaking of which.”

Whumpee had been feeling their heart beat as surely as they felt the cold of the floor for hours. As they watched Whumper reach into their pocket and pull out a folded piece of paper, they felt it beat faster.

Whumper held out the paper. Reluctantly, Whumpee stood up to grab it, took a step away and cautiously unfolded it.

A body.

A photo of a body, lazily printed out in low quality on ordinary paper. A dead body, wrapped in blankets and huddled up against a brick wall. Sleeping, if not for the dark stain of blood, shining under the flash of the camera.

The paper was shaking. Their hands were shaking. The paper began to tear under the strain of their grip and they suddenly let go, watching it drift to the floor.

“I trust you’ve learned your lesson. I’m afraid you’ll be receiving five more pages like that one, due to your little stunt, but I’m optimistic that there will need to be very few after that. Ink is expensive, after all. Now then.”

The villain once again stepped within Whumpee’s reach, seemingly completely unconcerned about any sort of danger to their person.

“Kneel. A bit more enthusiasm this time, please.”

There was a crack as Whumpee’s knees collided painfully against the floor, and after only a moment’s hesitation, they lowered their forehead as well, fingers splayed at either side of their head against the cold concrete. They forced themself to take deep breaths, keeping down the bile but unable to stop the tears that now sprung their eyes.

When Whumper began petting their head, they failed to suppress the first shuddering sob.

[doggonewhumper]

Whumpcember 19 & 20

Exhaustion, Drugged

tw syringe

@whumpcember

While the man was gone, Stella tried to take a peak inside his bag. It was left open on the table, in easy reach if only her arms weren't cuffed down. She stretched her neck, but it wasn't enough. She gave up after a while.

The man walked back in as she started to doze off, head hanging. He clapped his hands, startling her awake. Stella put herself back together quickly, glaring at the man.

"A little tired?" the man asked, grinning. Stella refused to answer. The man shrugged. "I'll let you sleep, even give you a bed, if you answer my questions."

"Never," Stella said. Her hands were in fists in the cuffs. The man only shrugged again, walking towards his bag. Stella stiffened, the smell of burnt hair still fresh in her mind. Would he burn her skin this time? Whatever he pulled out, she was sure she could take it. Mostly.

The man pulled out a syringe, tapping it lightly to remove any air bubbles. He pulled the cap off, turning to Stella. She refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing her struggle, so she sat stock still as he poked her, injecting her with... something. It didn't hurt any worse than any vaccine she had received in her life. He did it with practiced ease, although Stella doubted the man had any actual medical training. Didn't doctors have a thing about not causing harm?

"I'll bet you're wondering what that does," the man said, watching her. Stella glared, schooling her expression. The man grinned. "No? You'll figure it out, eventually. In the mean time..." The man pulled a taser out of the bag, turning it on. The buzz caused a shiver to run down Stella's spine, but she did her best to hide it. He jabbed it into her arm, the same one he injected her in, and she saw white.

Stella's throat hurt. Her body hurt. Her arm hurt. Above all, she was so, so tired. She had probably been awake for a full 24 hours at this point, but she had discovered what the injection did while she was being electrocuted. She couldn't fall asleep, nor could she even fall unconscious. The drug kept her awake to feel all of the pain she was put through. It had been hours, and it still hadn't worn off yet. When would it wear off!? Her eyes felt heavy, but it didn't matter if she closed them or not. The heaviness remained, and she remained in the present, twitching still from the electricity. The torture had officially started, and it felt far worse than she could've imagined. So she sat, awake, waiting for the drug to wear off so she could fall into blissful sleep, or unconsciousness at the very least.

Then the man came back into the room, carrying another syringe.

[ash-1s-wr1t1ng]

whump ahead or whatever. idk i’m tired and bored.

“Wakey wakey, princess.”

Prince Sorrel Cedar hissed as bright, white light flooded his tired eyes as bindings secured around his laid out form. He’d been woken the same nearly every morning for the past two weeks, and it was just as startling each time.

He dreaded this part of every singly day. The rest wasn’t great either, but this particular part hurt the most. When Rohesia was the cruelest to him, peeling away his flesh and leaving him to regenerate.

“Surely there’s anything else you can have as of breakfast time?” Sorrel sighed, glaring at her. His vision lagged behind, dragging across his field of view until it focused.

“Yes, but, routine is important” Rohesia replied. “Flesh is incredibly good for your skin, you know.”

“Ironic much?”

“Ironic is certainly a word for it.”

“Can you just get it over with already?” Sorrel grumbled, earning a small laugh from his tormentor’s tinted red lips.

“You’re very sour this morning, Sorrel” Rohesia replied, striding across the room toward him. “I hope I won’t have to say the same about your blood.”

Sorrel tensed, shifting in place. He knew, by now, there was no struggling, but how he wished that he could. “I think I have every right to be.”

“I don’t think you do” Rohesia replied. “Besides, if you’re anything like your father-“

“I’m nothing like my father!” Sorrel spat. It was the part that hurt him the most. Being compared to him. The only person probably any worse than Rohesia. “…Just fucking get it over with already.”

“Alright, alright” She chuckled, pulling a sharpened chunk of intentionally dirtied obsidian from her pocket. “You asked for it.”

[jordanstrophe]

When whumpee gets captured, they put on a stoic face for their abductor.

-But they can't mask their shaking. It’s visible enough their hard expression hides not one once of fear.

[whumpshaped]

hi im discussing a (somewhat) human astaroth au w @hidden-dreamland . for all the demon simps' consideration, some vibes and aesthetics (astaroth is the demon from my kinda horny very gory religiously themed angel/demon crack whump story)

bonus

taglist: @the-scrapegoat @heavenly-whumper @whumpsday

[befuddled-calico-whump]

Villain gets caught. Not by the heroes, or the police, or even an established vigilante, but by a civilian with a vendetta

And a baseball bat

And a garage full of very... versatile tools