#whumpee on display

[mj-iza-writer]

I don't want to talk about how long this sat in my drafts waiting for me to figure out the ending 🤦- Mj

Whumpee adjusted how they were lying on their pedestal. They were bored to death for this last-minute dinner party Whumper planned. They hid a small yawn, not wanting to seem too bored.

"I saw that", Whumper stepped up, and handed them a plate of goodies, "a few more hours and you can be done."

Whumpee sat up and eagerly took the food, "thankyou master."

Whumpee watched as Whumper talked with their guest. The food they had just received made it worth being their master's eye candy for the guest.

Whumpee was considered a Chattel slave, Whumper had purchased them from the black market. A chattel slave was pretty much considered someone's property, no different than livestock or the couch in the corner.

Whumper used Whumpee as an ornament, an object of their money. The guest often marveled at just how beautiful Whumpee was. Whumpee had been conditioned by their traffickers for this type of work.

Whumper never laid a punishing hand on them, they didn't have to. That hell was all done by the traffickers. Whumper could just enjoy their doll... or honestly, their puppet.

Whumpee was often dressed in the most expensive, often revealing outfits Whumper could find. Whumpee looked down at the lacy skin tight outfit they had on. They had lacy wraps around their wrist to match, but to also hide the rope burns from last night's fun in the master's bed. Lastly, they looked down at the sparkly shackle on their ankle, that was followed by a sparkly chain cemented into their pedestal.

A lady came up and started to ask Whumpee questions about themself and Whumper.

Whumpee stared straight ahead, not acknowledging the woman. They wished she'd go away though so they could eat more.

"Look at me, and talk to me, you useless...", the woman comanded, "how rude", they took their wine glass and threw the drink at Whumpee.

Whumpee gasped as the dark wine spilled over them.

Whumper came running, two butlers followed.

"What the heck is going on", Whumper looked at the wine covered Whumpee, then the woman.

"They wouldn't answer me. It's just like you to have a rude servant", the lady answered.

"She came up and started asking me questions about you, and about me master", Whumpee also answered while awkwardly holding out their arms do to the wine dripping from them, "I didn't acknowledge her, and she threw wine at me."

Whumper's anger flared at the lady, "they are not supposed to talk to people. They are furniture to look at. They were doing exactly as they were trained", Whumper spoke through gritted teeth, "the only way they can talk to someone is if they have my permission to talk to them."

"So you purposely made them rude", the lady looked up at Whumpee, who now was looking right at them.

"No that is how they were trained, and who are you to think you have a right to talk to my property", Whumper argued, "I literally started this party explaining how to interact with Whumpee, and if you wanted to talk to them to ask me, I would have happily introduced you. Everyone else has followed that rule, and that is much appreciated by me and Whumpee. Whumpee enjoys talking to people under the correct circumstances."

"I'm sure they would appreciate being able to talk to whomever they want", the lady fired back.

"And they would want to talk to you because?", Whumper asked sarcastically.

Whumpee grinned a little, hiding a laugh.

"Well I've never", the lady gasped.

"Well, it's about time someone talks to you like that", Whumper frowned, "your invitation to my parties is being revoked, my butler will escort you out.

When the lady was gone, Whumper turned to Whumpee.

"I guess that outfit is done. There is no coming back from that grape wine", Whumper stepped up, and unlocked the shackle, "I'm relieving you for tonight, go get cleaned up and relax in my room", Whumper caressed Whumpee's face.

Whumpee leaned their face into Whumper's gentle hand.

Whumper looked up at a butler, "Whumpee didn't get to eat much thanks to the lady, have chef cook them something."

"Yes sir", the butler bowed.

Whumper gave a hand to Whumpee to step down from the pedestal. They watched Whumpee as they left the party.

"I'm sorry for the disturbance in our party. Please continue to enjoy yourself", Whumper looked around, "I do apologize. Whumpee won't be joining us for the rest of it though."

The crowd had watched Whumpee leave, they all seemed sorry to see them go.

Later that night, Whumper went into their bedroom. They smiled when they saw Whumpee resting on the bed reading a book.

"Master", Whumpee closed the book and sat up, "how was the rest of the party."

"You have no idea how many people asked about you once you left", Whumper walked to them, "all so concerned about you", they started to get undressed.

Whumper caressed Whumpee's face lovingly.

"I'm going to shower, then we can go to bed", Whumper grinned.

Whumpee leaned into the touch.

"Are you tired, my dear?", Whumper smiled.

"Yes sir, I'm sorry about the wine spill", Whumpee frowned.

"That wasn't your fault. You were doing what you were supposed to do", Whumper turned toward the bathroom, "it only means I need to find you a copy of that outfit. You looked stunning in it."

"Thankyou master", Whumpee smiled weakly.

That night, Whumpee was cuddled into Whumper's arms.

They moved up and down with every snore Whumper made.

Whumpee blinked away a tear.

"I wish I was free", Whumpee whispered before forcing themself to go to sleep.

Taglist. As always please let me know if you want to be added or taken off of the list. It's not a problem at all. @villainsandheroes @the-beasts-have-arrived @sacredwrath @porschethemermaid @monarchthefirst @generic-whumperz @bloodyandfrightened @freefallingup13 @notpeppermint @cyborg0109 @idontreallyexistyet @thebejeweledwatercat @painfulplots @whumpbump @everythingsscary @skittles-the-whumpee @expressionless-fr @theforeverdyingperson @legendarydelusiongoatee

[painsandconfusion]

Let’s put Nate is a cylindrical glass case in the middle of a ballroom

i GIGGLED reading this???????

oh nate would be so cranky and awkward

hed either be sulking in a ball on the floor or licking the glass and theres no in between

[whumpanini]

Okay so picture this... a line up of heroes, all bound and forced to their knees in front of whumper.

Whumper paces in front of them calmly. They have their hands clasped behind their back as they begin to threaten or make demands of Leader. Then they slowly stop in front of our whumpee. Maybe they look the youngest, most inexperienced, or the most scared but something about them catches whumper's eye.

Leader's eyes go wide as they try to redirect whumper's attention back to them, but it's too late. Whumper places a hand under Youngest's jaw and lifts their gaze to force eye contact. They see the barely hidden fear behind a shaky mask of indifference and they *smile.*

[whump-or-whatever]

Non-verbal Anxiety/Stress Indicators

For all those whumpees who try to hide how they're feeling from others or might not even realize themselves what they're feeling.

Wringing hands

Tapping/shaking foot or leg

Rubbing hand along leg or arm

Fidgeting with sleeve/zipper/loose string/etc.

Body-focused repetitive behaviours (twirling hair, biting nails, picking at skin, etc.)

Pacing/rocking/inability to sit still

Tapping fingers

Touching/rubbing face

Holding on to a comforting item

Darting eyes

Positioning oneself with back to wall/facing door

Looking around for potential exists/sources of danger

Staring unseeingly into the distance

Trying to make oneself seem smaller (slouching, crossed arms, curling up, leaning on something, etc.)

Angling body away from others

Avoiding eye contact

Tense facial features (clenched jaw, furrowed brow, pursed lips etc.)

Stiff body and posture

Cold hands/chills

Clammy hands/sweating

Numbness in extremities/chest pain

Being unresponsive/unable to speak

Quick shallow breathing/difficulty getting a full breath

Paler than usual complexion

Feel free to add any others y'all can think of!

[loonybun]

hi thinking of circus whump rn and gonna make it your problem

- one of those classic sword box tricks, but it’s very much real. I think with an immortal whumpee that would be pretty neat.

- sad clown whumpee breaking down mid-performance, sobbing to the audience and letting go of years of anguish… Only to be quickly interrupted with a quick punchline from another clown! The audience, none the wiser, roars with laughter.

- a caged inhuman/supernatural whumpee being awed at as they’re paraded through the tent. get a whole freak show while you’re at it!

- a very poorly trained acrobat whumpee being forced to walk a high tightrope. without a net, obviously.

- a whumper as a ringmaster, showing clear favoritism towards the better performing acts of the night and giving them special privileges like decent food.

- saw this one comment under a song that suggested a faerie circus (as in faeries putting humans in a circus) and it has not and will never leave my brain. the POTENTIAL.

- bleeding out backstage. there’s no medical care in sight. you’d expect a circus to have better health insurance.

- a whumpee or caretaker looking after or finding comfort in the animals in the circus. just trying to provide them with more care than they were given.

- evil clowns! if you like evil clowns, why not use em? clown whumpers clown whumpers clown whumpers…..

if you write anything using these please tag me i will go nuts.

[shshshquietnow]

I like whumpers that are... ditzy I guess is the word?

Like in display whump or pet whump, they're just SO excited to have a little dolly and ooh! It's so cute and pathetic when whumpee flinches away from them, that's a sure sign of obedience right there. And maybe they aren't... SUPER sure of what sort of matinence their whumpee needs, but that's BORING, they know all the INTERESTING stuff! What sort of punishments work to get them in line, what makes whumpee make the cutest faces and noises...

Maybe whumper is rich and entitled or just plain childish, either way they don't know what they're doing (well. They know they're torturing someone, they just like it) and it's almost more dangerous than a whumper that does sometimes. At least someone more cruel and calculating would withhold food on purpose rather than forgetting to feed whumpee, or it'd be nice to not see giggling or GLEE when whumpee is in pain...

And of course. Being called "cute" and "dolly" and all that other stuff all the time is just plain humiliating.

[3-2-whump]

The Party

<prev next>

TW/CW: public humiliation, pet whump (I think?), objectification, whumpee on display, whumpee being talked about as if not even there, light microagression towards whumpee (?) This is fun to tag.

By now, Khaled should’ve been used to hearing the faint sound of metallic clinking as he walked. His owner used to bind his feet in cuffs for nearly a year straight when he had first come into his home, leaving just enough chain in between to walk comfortably and not an inch more. That was nearly six years ago, yet even hearing the faint shk shk shk of shimmering chains whenever he moved mentally transported him back to boyhood, when he was scared, shy, and didn’t know what was going on or what was expected of him. Much like tonight.

“Stand up straight, pick up your feet, and don’t look so glum,” Thomas chided.

Easy for you to say, Khaled thought as he eyed his fully dressed owner in envy. The mafia boss was dressed in a three-piece suit as usual, though he had changed into one of the more expensive ones for tonight’s function, a charity ball of some sort. The garnets set into his golden cufflinks glowed like freshly shed blood under the foyer’s lights as he gestured at him.

Khaled wore gold and garnets of his own, except they were…everywhere. They were in his earrings, in his nose ring, studded like pomegranate seeds in his necklace, acting as connection points in the harness-like body chain draped over his bare chest and torso –he was covered in them and still felt naked. A sheer and silky fabric tied unskillfully around his waist matched the color of the sanguine jewels and provided the only shred of modesty in this obscene outfit. Khaled prayed it would not fall off, but he did not favor his chances.

At least I get a break from that chastity cage, he consoled himself.

He straightened his posture and adopted a more neutral expression. His master smiled. “Good boy,” he said, and yet the usual praise did not ease the nervous churning in his gut. The golden bracelets on his wrists, matching the bands on his ankles, clinked softly as the man reached out to squeeze his hands in reassurance. “You look beautiful,” was all he said to him before he dropped his hand and parted the large doors to the ballroom.

Khaled’s skin seared hot under the chandelier lights as he felt the gaze of every patrons’ eyes on him. Keeping his eyes focused on some neutral midpoint ahead of him –like that potted plant, yeah, is that even real? –he followed his master into the fray, swallowing nervously as he heard the heavy doors close behind him. It felt like everyone was staring at him, and from the glances he dared to take from his periphery, he understood why. Every other patron was dressed in formal attire. Even the few escorts he saw -and he could recognize a fellow sex worker when he saw one- were dressed more modestly than him. At least their chests were covered! His face burned with embarrassment, a blush that probably rivaled the cerise garnets, all the way down to his collarbones.

The boss stopped, finally, and so did he as they settled into the corner of the ballroom. They stood next to the bar and very close to the table laid out with several dozen little canapes. Khaled’s stomach loudly rumbled and his mouth pooled with saliva just looking at them. He hadn’t eaten since lunch, which was nearly eight hours ago. He glanced at his master, who was currently receiving a glass of whiskey from the bartender, and he carefully stretched a hand out to reach for the tartlet-thing closest to him.

“No.” His bracelets jingled as his hand was swatted away like he was a misbehaving pet. His master stared down at him as he threw back the shot of whiskey. Khaled drew his hand back to his side. “I’ll feed you when we get home, if you’ve been good, that is.” He sighed, but reluctantly nodded. He cast his gaze down to his sandaled feet as he tried not to think about the ever-present food and the persistent gnawing of his stomach.

A pair of expensive black leather shoes stepped into the top of his vision. “Thomas, so glad you could make it,” the unseen stranger greeted.

“Wouldn’t miss this for the world,” his owner replied, a polite smile in the tone of his voice.

“So, who’s this?” The stranger’s attentions were on him.

“This,” he said boastfully, “is my darling, my dearest, my worst-kept secret!” Khaled wanted to shrink away from the attention, but has master’s hand on his waist reminded him not to. “Come on, Khaled!” He summoned his courage to look up. An older man with a pot belly and a short, dour-faced wife on his arm was appraising him curiously, as if he was an exotic item and not a person. Smile, damn it, an impatient voice rang in his head. He flashed them a shy smile as he looked at them through his kohl-rimmed lashes.

“Your intern?”

“My ‘intern’,” his master clarified.

“He’s a pretty one, how long have you had him?”

“Oh, about six years now, come this spring.”

“Wow! Well, you’ve obviously been taking great care of him!” It was so obvious that this stranger wanted to do more than just look at him, with the way his fat fingers practically vibrated in excitement.

 “Six years?!” a second guest –a tall and thin woman– gasped. Khaled realized by now they had attracted a small crowd of partygoers to the bar, all with the intent to sneak a peek at Don Costa’s boy toy. He ducked his head in shame.

“Mine didn’t even last six months!” the woman whined, trying to garner sympathy.

“I’m sorry to hear that. I just got lucky, I guess,” Thomas shrugged.

“Tell us, how is he in bed?” another guest asked.

“Good, though there’s not much skill in lying back and taking it!” A chorus of laughter accompanied his master’s. He found a scuff on the hardwood floor and pretended that was the only thing that existed.

“Does he speak?” yet another faceless guest asked. The whole semicircle of gawkers fell silent. Khaled dared to look up. All eyes were on him.

“Well, go on, boy, say something,” his master directed.

Khaled wanted nothing more than for the earth to swallow him whole.

“W-what should I say?” he asked nervously.

An irreverent number of oohs and aahs erupted from the small entourage.

“Not even the faintest hint of an accent!” the first man exclaimed. “Now tell me, Tom, did you train him to speak that well?”

“No,” his owner admitted, “I mean, I hired a tutor to teach him English, but he trained the accent out of himself on his own.”

“Why, though?”

The stretch of awkward silence indicated they were waiting yet again for Khaled to speak, that they wanted him to answer. Khaled shifted his eyes to the floor again, swallowing past the discomfort of being scrutinized this closely. “Because… I didn’t want to stand out.”

-

“You were amazing!” Thomas complimented Khaled as he watched him shovel take-out falafel pita into his mouth like it was his first meal in days.

“So, this was just a one-time thing, right?” his beloved slave asked, cheeks distended with half-chewed falafel.

“Hey, don’t talk with your mouth full,” Thomas chastised him, “I trained you better than that.”

Khaled swallowed the food and apologized under his breath. “And to answer your question, who knows? They couldn’t keep their eyes off you,” he smirked pridefully. I couldn’t keep my eyes off you, either. He glanced from the road over to his passenger in the car. Khaled had looked every bit as alluring as he had imagined when he was covered in gold and jewels and blood red silk. He would never admit he was hard for nearly the entire time they were at the party, but the evidence probably spoke for itself through the bulge in his slacks. “It’s no wonder though. Red is a good color on you.” And I want to see what you look like in blue next, he mentally added. “I just might drag you out to other parties in the future if we get attention like that.”

Khaled set his stub of a pita down on his lap. Thomas couldn’t help but grimace; what if it left a stain? “Do I have to dress like this again?” the young man asked, though his defeated tone told him he already knew the answer.

“Oh, don’t be so sad about it, you were gorgeous!” I thought about nothing but how to get you alone for the entire time we were there!

“I was nearly naked, Master. In public. In front of strangers. Does that not bother you?”

“So? I like to show off what’s mine,” he shrugged. “Look, when you’re free, you can choose to wear whatever you want, but until then, you’ll put on whatever I give you, okay?” Khaled slumped further into the car seat. Maybe it was a bit cruel to tease him with the freedom he’d never willingly give him. Thomas sighed, feeling a little guilty. He reached out a hand to pat a silk-covered thigh. “It won’t be very often, I promise,” he reassured him.

“Yes, Master,” his pet murmured.Thomas smiled. At the red light, he leaned over to kiss the side of Khaled’s sauce-stained lips.

Le Tag List: @kabie-whump @rainydaywhump @whumped-by-glitter @skittles-the-whumpee

[hurtmyfavsthanks]

HI!! okay so with the magical euphoria thingy i screamed into my pillow like twenty million times while reading AUDHSHXH /pOS YOUR WRITING IS AUAHDHAHX!!:?:!;!;:!, ANYWAY.

whumpee uses WAY too much magic in a fight. they’re completely giddy, out of it, and have just horrifically defeated something/someone.

looks around and notices that everyone is silent and terrified of what whumpee is capable of, because holy fuck. they did not need to go that far????

meanwhile whumpee thinks they were doing the right thing and, still incredibly excited from winning, runs over to caretaker!! and doesn’t understand why caretaker flinches away from them!! ^_^

sorry for the heinous grammar its like almost midnight rn :(((

(context)

I’m glad you liked my writing! I’m grinning like a fool rn.

And yes!!! Not every battle ends with Whumpee exhausted and ready to collapse. Sometimes they’re still sparking with energy, too deep into the high to realize they’re acting oddly, but not deep enough to be entirely gone. And honestly? For the people who care about them, for the people who are afraid of them, I think that state would be far, far worse. Awake but not quite aware. Unpredictable.

So like, hear me out.

The squadron is returning back to camp after a long day of missions. Their mage is still with them, in both senses of the word. They’re not fallen into total lunacy yet, still conscious and mobile. Whumpee’s bouncing on their toes, head swiveling on their shoulders like an excited puppy. They’re chatting excitedly, near incomprehensibly, at a soldier that made the mistake of getting too close. The soldier can only nod along to the stream of consciousness leaving Whumpee’s lips.

Caretaker is keeping a hold on Whumpee’s arm, making sure they don’t run off. They know Whumpee will be fine after a night’s rest.

It’s a rare moment of calm. They’re sore and exhausted, but the warm pride of a job well done leaves them feeling satisfied. The atmosphere is light as they trudge through the forest. Peaceful, all things considered.

But then Whumpee freezes, body stiffening all at once as something catches their attention. They turn, eyes focusing on something. A flash of enemy colors flicks in their vision–

Whumpee’s moving before Caretaker can react. Light bursts from their hands, illuminating the dark forest, and the squadron freezes on instinct. Whumpee’s attention, fractured and fleeting moments ago, has sharpened into a deadly edge to focus on a single figure.

Whumpee reaches out a single glowing hand, fingers curling as if grabbing something.

Flanked by two petrified guards, hands shackled behind his back, is a single enemy soldier taken as prisoner. His eyes widen as Whumpee’s attention focuses on him, the man’s bruised and exhausted face contorted in terror. His mouth is open in silent, terrified scream.

Just as Caretaker is reaching out to stop them, Whumpee reaches out with an open hand. Their fingers curl inward as if grabbing something. With a sharp movement their hand is pulled back, fingers clenched shut. The prisoner’s body lurches forward in response.

The crackle of energy cracks through the air, and suddenly something red and dripping and squirming is hovering mere feet from the man. He’s never laid eyes on it before, but the emptiness in his chest tells him exact

The human heart, still beating, falls to the forest floor. Its owner falls a moment later.

Silence follows. Fear and shock runs through the squadron, their minds struggling to comprehend what had just unfolded. Some freeze like a deer in the headlights, terrified that moving will bring Whumpee’s wrath. Others are inching their hands towards their belts, looking for a weapon. Others still are simply trembling from shock, suddenly and violently reminded of the danger in their midsts.

The terror that grips Caretaker is different. They’re afraid for Whumpee. Training kicking into overdrive, Caretaker’s eyes dart over the scene, calculating. Assessing the panic, assessing how long they have until fear turns into action.

They know they have to take control of the situation. Caretaker’s footsteps are firm as they approach Whumpee, exuding confidence they don’t feel, and praying it's enough to keep the situation from escalating.

Caretaker places a hand on Whumpee’s shoulder. Whumpee turns to face them, expression blank

“Whumpee,” Caretaker speaks with trained calmness, voice gentle yet firm. Their smile is a weak, trembling thing, doing little to mask their anxiety. The smile Whumpee gives in return is genuine and bright, oblivious. “We need him alive. We’re taking him in for questioning, remember?”

Whumpee doesn’t respond. Their eyes are more clouded than they were a moment before, their sanity strained even further by that display of power. For a long, breathless moment Whumpee simply stares, a vacant smile plastered over their face.

Caretaker keeps their expression calm, but the tension is suffocating them. All they can hear is the gurgling of a dying man.

And then the moment breaks. Whumpee blinks, and awareness flicks back into their eyes. A tittering giggle creeks out from between their teeth.

“Oh! Right, yes. We need that one alive, don’t we?” Whumpee laughs.

The clearing is still as Whumpee all but skips over to the twitching body. They grab the heart from where it dropped.The muscle is still pulsing weakly, spilling blood over Whumpee’s arms. They don’t seem to notice.

Whumpee calls their magic again, the organ vanishing in a flash. In that same instance, the prisoner’s eyes fly open, bloodless lips widening with a desperate gasp. His next inhale comes out as a sob. He curls inward, limbs close to his chest, as if desperate to keep his heart in its place.

Whumpee doesn’t even give the man a second glance. As their would-be victim sobs, broken and terrified, on the ground, Whumpee happily returns to Caretaker’s side. They reach their hand, now coated a deep red, expectantly towards Caretaker. Caretaker holds Whumpee’s hand with a trained smile, and tries not to flinch at the warm wetness.

Caretaker starts walking, not daring to look back. They know the terrified, hateful, dangerous looks they’ll see if they did.

Whumpee doesn’t notice the way Caretaker's grip tightens, or how they’re maneuvered to walk some distance away from the other soldiers.

The rest of the trip is done in silence.

[obsessedwithegos]

"You've always looked so much better with your face drenched with blood. I think my friends will agree."

general: @emmettnet @blackberry-bloody

emil tag: @whumpsday @pikanyachu

displayed vampire whump: @dismemberment-on-a-tuesday-night

[mj-iza-writer]

Triggers: Drugging. Abuse. Voyeurism. Black Market.

What if Whumper ran a dark web only fans, and Whumpee has to endure whatever Whumper's fans pay for.

"Hello everyone, I'm here live with Whumpee", Whumper slams their hands down on Whumpee's shoulder causing a muffled groan from a gagged and muzzled Whumpee.

"The same rules apply, five dollars to elongate their suffering by five minutes. Ten dollars to elongate the torture for thirty minutes. You can pick what their punishment is for thirty dollars", Whumper walked around to the camera, "rules are simple, I won't kill them, so don't bother asking, they are how I get paid."

Whumper smiled, "as requested Whumpee has not had anything to eat or drink since our last live show a few days ago. I will be removing that request for this one, as they will need to eat and drink something after this. They've been a bit cranky lately so I will have to feed them."

"My account is open, Whumpee is very excited to see what happens", Whumper turned to Whumpee, "aren't you?"

Whumpee pulled against the ropes tying them down to the chair.

"That's the spirit", Whumper turned and watched their account filling with money, "we have some eager fans today."

Whumpee whimpered as Whumper picked up a whip.

"I'm just going to whip them until we get a request", Whumper turned to Whumpee and began the assault.

Whumpee fell forward shakingly when Whumper stopped to check the request.

"That's dam near a hundred dollars in fives and tens. Looks like we'll be here for a while", Whumper smiled into the camera, "I also see two request, and your money has been deposited."

Whumper grabbed a bottle of water and took a big drink, "first request is to give Whumpee salt water", Whumper began pouring salt into the bottle, "this is going to suck for them, they are so dehydrated from not getting water, they'll drink this right up, but the salt will suck away any water they may have."

Whumper shook the bottle as they removed the muzzle and gag.

"Drink it", Whumper shoved the bottle into Whumpee's mouth and tipped it. Whumpee started to choke as the water dumped into their mouth, but the flood didn't relent.

"The second request came from the same person, and they asked to also pour some of the salt water into Whumpee's face", Whumper yanked the bottle out of Whumpee's mouth and dumped the rest onto Whumpee's face.

Whumpee screamed as they clenched their eyes closed. They instinctively tried to lift their hands to wipe their face, but they were limited by the ropes.

As they continued to scream, Whumper replaced the gag into Whumpee's mouth.

"Those muffled cries are so sweet", Whumper walked to the camera, then eyed the account, "just a reminder I do limit these to five hour sessions, if my math is correct we are over three hours. My account will freeze when it is maxed, and it will not allow any more five dollar or ten dollar payments."

Whumpee slumped forward as tears streamed down their face. Their eyes and throat burnt from the excessive salt. Their tongue felt like it was swiveling up.

"Hmm, I like this request", Whumpee heard Whumper laugh, "do your favorite punishment to Whumpee."

Whumpee gulped.

Whumper grabbed a pair of pliers and approached Whumpee.

"My favorite punishment is to pull off fingernails. They scratched me once. After that I decided it was easier just to remove the nails instead of wasting time cutting and filing them", Whumper started to pull the nails off one by one as Whumpee screamed louder and louder.

Whumpee's throat was raw by the end, their fingers were numb as blood dripped from the tips.

Whumper walked over to the monitor, "hmm, hey Whumpee, you'll hate this, but I just received a thirty dollars request to remove your toenails. Are you ready?"

Whumpee frantically shook their head no. They pleadingly looked at Whumper as they knelt down and untied one of Whumpee's feet.

"Pwease", Whumpee begged, "pwease nuh."

Whumpee's breathing was shallow once Whumper was done. Their head bobbed as their vision began to blur.

Whumper looked sadly at the camera as their session would be ending soon.

"So we are at our final few minutes of this live session, and I have one last request that popped up. I am turning off the payments now. You all maxed me out almost instantly and got us to five hours, I'm sure Whumpee was grateful", Whumper chuckled as they looked back at Whumpee.

Whumpee's head hung back, and their breathing was struggled.

"I absolutely appreciate everyone's support on my live feed shows. It is a huge blessing", Whumper stood, "now for the last punishment to be inflicted; find my biggest hammer and take out one of Whumpee's knee caps."

Whumpee's head shot up and they looked worriedly at Whumper.

"Oh that got their attention", Whumper chuckled as they approached Whumpee threatingly, "I need to go get my hammer, be entertaining for them until I return."

Whumpee looked at the camera pleadingly then lowered their head.

Whumper came back with the hammer.

Whumpee looked up pleadingly.

"We have to do it, I've already been paid", Whumper chuckled, then raised the hammer, "it's only one knee, not like you need it."

Whumpee squeezed their eyes shut as the hammer came down.

They groaned as the hammer repeatedly hit down onto their knee.

Whumper stopped and went to the camera, "thankyou again to everyone who joined our live and all of the support. We will be back next week for another live video with Whumpee. That should give them plenty of time to recover."

Whumper turned to look at Whumpee, then backed to the camera.

"Maybe", Whumper laughed, "signing out."

Whumper untied Whumpee and dragged them back to their cell.

"Please, please", Whumpee cried out as they were lowered to the floor.

"Okay, shh. You did such a good job today", Whumper shackled Whumpee to a long chain welded into the wall, "do you want your reward?"

Whumpee wiped away some tears with their arms, leaving a trail of blood along their cheeks.

They looked at Whumper and shakingly nodded.

"Very well, let's get some food and water in you, and I'll drug you up", Whumper laughed.

Whumper helped Whumpee eat and drink.

"Yep that salt water was a harsh one", Whumper filled another cup of water and offered it to Whumpee, "get another cup in you before you become higher than a kite."

Whumpee frowned and watched Whumper move around the room, preparing the drug.

"Okay here we go", Whumper sat down and finished rolling their maraujana special, "fresh from my garden."

Whumper took a few puffs before holding it up for Whumpee.

"That's the stuff", Whumper smiled.

Whumpee started to lose consciousness after a few minutes. One final puff pushed them over the edge. They no longer felt anything. A line of drool spilled from their mouth as they fell asleep.

Whumper sat back against the wall to finish out the joint.

"Light weight", Whumper sighed.

"Get some rest, Whumpee", Whumper blew one more puff at Whumpee's face before pushing them to the floor.

Taglist. As always please let me know if you want to be added or taken off of the list. It's not a problem at all. @villainsandheroes @the-beasts-have-arrived @sacredwrath @porschethemermaid @monarchthefirst @generic-whumperz @bloodyandfrightened @freefallingup13 @notpeppermint @cyborg0109

[painsandconfusion]

Imagine breaking a whumpee's joints and bones in a way that ensure they'll fuse together and whumpee would be a perfectly posed statue for the rest of their lives.

[snugglethyme]

Wearing His Colors

Whumpee being kept as a political prisoner. The only clothing they’re given is in the enemy nation’s colors

Whumpee forced to work for the enemy, including wearing the Whumper’s henchmen uniform. With slight… adjustments

(The turned up collar of their jack hides the collar around their neck. Their shirt cuffs hide the very real, metal cuffs fastened to their wrists) 

The uniform is expertly tailored and actually looks really good on them (and that makes Whumpee feel physically sick)

Whumpee’s old allies come to the Whumper’s headquarters to negotiate, only to see Whumpee (who has been in Whumper’s hands so long they thought they were dead) standing by the Whumper’s throne. In His Colors

[shshshquietnow]

Yes yes I have many unanswered prompts, but this was the vibe I had today, so I had to chase the feeling.

...

Coal-Black Catch II

Contents: child whumpee, dehumanization, "it" as a non preferred pronoun, sadistic whumper, intimate whumper, pet whump (sort of? Maybe display whump is a better description), manhandling, noncon touching

...

Andras... didn't pay Kiran much mind the whole way back. Not that Kiran minded THAT, they did not like any attention from the demon whatsoever. He still had an arm around them, grazing through their feathers idly as he shouted commands at the other demons and the horses.

But Kiran couldn't stop looking at Andras. Thet were frozen, even in the bumpy chariot ride home they couldn't bring themself to rip their eyes from the potential threat, it was like trying to look away from a snake you knew was about to strike. They were in danger, danger danger, Andras could do anything to Kiran at any moment and Kiran couldn't do anything and no one would help them...

... but already from that Kiran could see a few things. The demon liked gold, he wore a necklace and a few rings and earrings, and very fancy clothes. Andras had two scars on his purple-y skin, and a few nicks on his twisting horns. One that went straight across his nose, and one that looked like scratches right on his brow.

"... what are all those cuts from?" The world's were out before Kiran even realized, voice small, barely audible over the wheels going over roots and rocks.

"You're a curious one, aren't you?" Andras smirked, moving his hand from their wings to their hair, petting the back of their head while keeping their eyes on the road. It made Kiran's skin crawl. "Hunting incidents, if you must know, sweetheart. Well,the one across my nose was from a spar. I'm quite the swordman, everyone here can attest. Maybe you'll see me in a duel, I'd love to show you off at a tournament... hm. Once you're a little more cleaned up. One would think you've been wandering the woods for years before I claimed you."

Andras... liked talking a lot. Arrogant. They could use that... not now of course, but he didn't seem to see Kiran as intelligent, as a collectable item. They filed the details away... eventually he'd get over confident, and Kiran would have a window to escape. That was it.

... and while Kiran was getting out of here- away from his touch and away from being a... what, decoration? Away from having their whole life being reduced to looking pretty for demons, if Kiran got some answers while captured... there'd be no harm done, and they'd know more to not ever get caught again.

It's fine. This is... it's not fine at all. It's very bad. But be smart, don't reveal anything, take everything in and and find out as much as possible and get out. Kiran could do that much, they've always been too smart for their own good.

"Your feathers are ruffling," Andras chuckled, lightly sing song. "Does that mean you're scared?"

Kiran hesitated. Their whole plan felt so out the window once Andras was actually looking at them. Gods they were really powerless here... they were approaching a large building, Andras's manor, and everyone would be working and looking for Andras's approval, and Kiran would have nothing.

They nod shakily, just once. They were terrified.

Andras smiled, flashing his sharp teeth and ruffling Kiran's oily matted black hair. He hopped out of his seat onto the paved path up to the manor. "Lovely, all the easier to tame."

He took one of Kiran's wings, nails digging, and yanked them out of the cart by it. A few demons snickered at the surprised and pained yelp, Andras looking down at them with such a glint in his eyes... he enjoyed that.

He enjoyed that.

"Hurry along now!" Andras clapped his hands held high, looking to the other demons he had been hunting with. "Load the other game to the kitchens and have them prepared, get someone to bathe and groom this thing so it'll be fit for the tailor's by tomorrow. And set out my swords in the training area for a spar, get to it!"

Demons all hurried off in different directions, Kiran didn't even have time to be unsettled by being called an "it" before two demons- more gruff and older than Andras- grabbed their arms and dragged them inside the manor. Their wings involuntarily beat and flutter, flitting to try and miraculously get away.

They did their best to memorize where they were going, but the manor was a dark labyrinth compared to the forest... right right left past four doors right... but it was difficult to concentrate with the two demon's grips being so tight, and walking too fast for Kiran to keep up with their smaller legs. They swore they got pinched on the shoulders more than once, just for the demon's amusement at their startled squeaks.

"Get us in any trouble, try any shit-" one demon pulled Kiran close, freezing them up and whispering in their ear in a low growl. He grabbed a handful of hair to keep the fallen angel in place. "And I'll beat you senseless, regardless of what your owner says. Got it, birdie?"

Kiran nodded, shuddering in a breath, wishing they were so small no one could see them, or even hold them. At last they were shoved into a room, flourished with gold and rubies like the rest of the manor. A... sink and a tub and towels and robes...

And a mirror. Kiran looked upon the glass. Their hair was a mess, just around their shoulders and tangled, now the same color as their wings, which... haven't been presented in a bit. Not fully anyway, not since falling. Their skin was now a light grey too, dirty from the forest, but what was... oh.

Cracks. Or a pattern like cracks, like a broken porcelain vase, stretching diagonal up their face, one on the neck and... now they look, even one on their arm. They had a halo... before they fell they had a halo, but it's not there anymore, though they still had the wings on the side of their head, pressed to their temples in stress.

Nothing about Kiran was an angel anymore. They were quite literally broken, and the world could see it. And the world was GOING to see it as Andras would dress them all up and show them off to all the demons of the earth...

Once again, Kiran hadn't realized what was happening until sharp clawed hands shoved them in the tub, not bothering to adjust their wings so they wouldn't bend so awkward. More demons had came in while Kiran was distracted, and they began the process of soaking the kid in icy water as they did their best not to thrash and cause trouble.

Just think. Just think and collect and don't think about all the demons touching and...

There was a single window in this room, barely big enough to fit Kiran through, as small as they were. This room would likely always have soap and hygienics in supply. Humans- mortals, Kiran once read they use files on their nails. If there was one of those around or even scissors, Kiran wouldn't have to worry about ropes. Maybe.

The demons were talking. Kiran couldn't hear, all they sensed was hands everywhere, cleaning grime off and touching their hair and going between their featgers... they couldn't move.

Someone slung them over their shoulder, carrying them off... okay okay. Three doors down two lefts one door... that one is easy to remember, still on the bottom floor. The demon carrying them unlocked the door and sat the fallen angel down on a chair in a sort of... office? With a desk and paintings of... he is arrogant. Andras with dead animals mainly, but a few of him with some others that look like him.

It was garish and sterile, Kiran hugged their wings close. They'd be... Andras said he was going sparring, but they didn't know how long that would take. They felt small in the chair, and they felt like the walls were closing in...

... though, an office has a lot of information in it. If Andras was gone a while... this could be very good for getting out.

[ladyinsertnamehere]

Broken wings ep 26

Unshaded art jumpscare under the cut

You drag him out of the tiny room to your yard. He’s not very resistant somehow, maybe you’ve broken him in. Or maybe he’s just exhausted from all you’ve put him through.

You slam his body into the bark of the tree, getting an audible ugh! You tie his wrists together behind the tree, his arms contorting in a no-doubt-uncomfortable way.

He quickly spreads his legs out to avoid his feet touching the prickly clusters of leaves underneath. You respond by binding his ankles.

His wings flap about, struggling to get away or make a scene. But a scene is exactly what you want. You want him on display for a full hour.

You go back to your porch to watch over him.