#whumperee

[redd956]

Okay, but- Whumpee discovering that Whumper is wearing a shock collar

[whumpndump]

Whumper who doesn't want to be a whumper.

Whumper who is being made to harm Whumpee by someone stronger than them, who they can't refuse.

Whumper who hates every ounce of pain the influct on Whumpee, who goes to bed thinking they should be the one experiencing that pain instead.

Whumper who has to try so hard to pretend they aren't horrified every time they hurt Whumpee.

Whumper who can't take it anymore and breaks down in front of Whumpee, crying and and apologizing over and over, trying to explain that they don't deserve this, that they're sorry, before whoever is controlling them can notice their disobedience and take Whumper away to be punished.

[lumpofwhump]

Whumper found themself rooted in place, now face to face with the furious Caretaker broken free of their restraints. They were wielding Whumper’s favorite branding iron, heated up and ready to go.

“One thousand, three hundred and fifty eight,” Caretaker said in an icy monotone as they approached. Their many injuries didn’t slow them down in the least, instead making them if anything more terrifying.

“W-what?” Whumper asked with a thin, anxious laugh. “What’s that supposed —”

“That’s the number of times you hurt Whumpee,” Caretaker answered. “They were only one kind of lucky in all this.”

Behind them, Whumpee shifted uncomfortably in the two blankets draped over their gaunt frame.

Whumper looked equally unnerved. “How?”

“They had it spread out over seven years. You?” Caretaker abruptly thrust Whumper’s favorite branding iron forward, stopping it a mere inch from Whumper’s throat. “You’ll have to take it all in one go.”

“C-Caretaker, please…!” Whumpee interjected, eyes wide and horrified.

Not lowering their weapon in the slightest, Caretaker spared them a glance. “You don’t have to stay and watch,” they said to Whumpee in a voice as gentle as their tone had been harsh in speaking to Whumper. “I’ll see you soon, alright?”

Whumpee fled the room immediately without another word of protest. Meanwhile, Whumper gulped as Caretaker turned to them with cold fury in their eyes and started forward.

“Just be glad I’m not going to include my own injuries here,” Caretaker told them. “Then again, I don’t get the sense you’ll survive long enough for that to be an issue.”

With that, they jerked the branding iron ever so slightly to the left and pressed it against the skin of Whumper’s shoulder. Just as Whumper had done to Whumpee that first night of their captivity. Whumper let out the first scream of many.

[whump-or-whatever]

Just putting it out there…

Whumpees who also just happen to murder people

Not for some justifiable reason or cause they’re a living weapon or whatever

Just for shits and gigs, ya know?

[whumpwillow]

Whumper is whumped, then escapes and goes on the run from their captors. They find shelter and safety with a kind stranger who knows nothing of their past, and while it starts out with Whumperee just using Caretaker as a means for survival, they come to care greatly for this person who treats them so gently as no one ever has before, though they worry about keeping their past crimes a secret. They don’t want Caretaker to look at them any differently.

[a-whumped-tea]

A siren who has managed to gain human legs. Siren slips into the music business. Instant success. Gains a whole ton of adoring fans.

Maybe Siren is a whumper who likes to toy with some of their new fans. There's always an unlimited amount of fans willing to do anything for them, why not take one of them home? Whumper has to eat after all.

And even if Whumpee escapes no one would believe them that Siren is bad or tried to hurt and kill them. Siren's so great! How could someone so popular be bad?

Siren turning into a Whumperee. Surely a supernatural hunter is going to pick up on the signs of this person being a siren pretty quick. Hunter should probably take care of this Siren problem before it gets more out of hand than it already has.

Might want to hurry with getting rid of Siren. We wouldn't want the general public getting withdrawals from being exposed to Siren's song for too long.

[whumperofworlds]

Whumperee sounds like a pizza name at a well-known pizza restaurant NGL.

[syncopein3d]

Okay yes, I have finally started to play Baldur's Gate 3, and yes, I have just gotten to That One Scene, but hear me out. Characters who need to hurt someone to live. Not just vampires, maybe they're a captured Drukhari from 40k and they can literally die from not being able to torture someone in order to harvest their pain. Maybe they're some other species that harvests emotions of some kind, or just energy in general.

But the important thing is, another character needs them alive. They're genuinely pathetic when they're not well-fed and also, not useful for the thing they're needed alive for. So whether or not they're likable, somebody's going to have to see that they're fed. Does their minder feed them themselves, and risk being killed or incapacitated, so that no one else suffers? Do they sacrifice strangers, or are there convenient enemies?

What happens when there are no convenient enemies?

Do they rotate this difficult duty among team members, some much better able to bear it than others, until it starts mostly devolving on the stronger ones? Will the stronger ones resent it?

What kind of weird, uncomfortable team dynamics are going to result from this, or does the inconvenient creature use it to bond their minder to themselves at the expense of others in order to serve the agenda of their eventual escape or revenge?

[corpwhump]

For your song game; Me and Mr Wolf by The Real Tuesday Weld

Perhaps a little unconventional, but:

Two whumpers that trade off being whumper and whumpee. Two whumpers that revel in a daytime game of cat-and-mouse, where they compete to see who will end up in chains that night.

A normal looking conversation at the bar between them in public conceals sly attempts to drug each other. Maybe they come home late at night to the other person lying in wait in their living room with a rag soaked in chloroform and cuffs hanging from their belt, hiding behind the door just waiting for it to open. Maybe the one who came home sees the faint imprints of boots on their normally spotless floor, and smirks a bit before grabbing a kitchen knife, ready to go out and meet their companion.

No matter who wins, after each night of screams from whoever was bested, the victim is let go, and a twenty-four hour grace period goes into effect for them to recover before the next game.

They both know it's dangerous, they both know that one of them is likely to die if they keep this up. But they love it. They can't resist egging each other on: it gets more dangerous every time they play.

A restaurant date conceals bandages beneath their sleeves, scars beneath a nicely-pressed collar. One of the whumpers absently plays with their steak knife; they know their drink was drugged when they left to go use the bathroom. They know the other whumper so well at this point that this version of the game has started to get predictable. Boring. Their date questions what they're thinking about.

They sigh, and then look up with a smile, a dangerous glint in their eye.

"You know what? Why don't we up the stakes a little."

[redd956]

Mini Whump Prompt 149

"I'm scared of them." Whumpee admitted in a low voice to Caretaker, resting their head against Caretaker's shoulder while half-hiding their face from potential view.

"Are they a friend of whumper?"

"No. It's just- They'll kill me if they know I'm here."

"Whumpee that's serious-"

"They deserve to feel that way. Trust me. I- I hurt them pretty bad."

[whumpndump]

Whumper A meets up with Whumper B, who has offered to purchase Whumpee from them. "Enjoy your new pet" Whumper A says, reaching out to shake hands with Whumper B.

"Actually.." Whumper B grips Whumper A's hand hard, forcefully pulling them closer "I think I'd rather have two pets"

With a smile, Whumper B pulls out a chloroform soaked rag and shoves it firmly against Whumper A's mouth before they can react. Whumpee just nervously stares on as Whumper A slumps to the floor, quickly picked up again by Whumper B, who turns to Whumpee with a grin.

"Come on, lets get you two pets to your new home."

[lumpofwhump]

After nearly marching Caretaker back to their room to get some rest already, Former Whumpee set to wiping down the bloodied medical equipment in stony silence. They practically threw the newly-cleaned items back into their respective drawers and containers.

Whumperee watched their former victim warily from across the room, where they lay half-curled up on the bed. “You got something you want to say?” they asked in a surly tone. A bit of their old defiance, popping back up at the most inconvenient time as always.

Former Whumpee stopped and turned around, looking only vaguely in Whumperee’s direction, reaching for a scalpel in the drawer behind them. “I just keep thinking,” they said, a dangerous edge to their otherwise calm voice, “about how many people died in the cells back there. Scared, alone, in as much pain as you and Whumper could put them through.”

Their knuckles went pale as they clutched the scalpel, advancing toward Whumperee, who scrambled back only to find their back against the wall.

“All of them were better people than you,” Former Whumpee snapped, grabbing Whumperee by the front of their loose gown and pinning them to the wall while holding the scalpel to their neck. “Every. Single. One.”

Whumperee swallowed with a sound that was halfway between a gasp and a squeak.

Former Whumpee held them there for a long moment, staring at them with cold fury in their eyes, before releasing them to collapse down onto the bed with a groan of pain.

“It should’ve been you,” they spat out, before turning back to their work.

Whumperee curled in on themself, sulking, but didn’t bother to respond. They knew Former Whumpee was right.

[wickedoccupations]

"you're a monster."

A smug entertained giggle erupts from the mans throat, eyebrow quirking. He swirls the alcoholic beverage around in its designated glass.

"Am I really? A *monster*? How rude of you to ever assume such a thing,"

suddenly, a hand clasps around his wrist, followed by a small pill being dropped into his drink- he sputters, shocked, annoyed, wordless at the spontaneous bold show.

"you are gonna drink all of this, and then I'm gonna take you home and beat the fucking shit out of you and maybe do worse. If you don't drink it, I'll let (whumpee) find you first."

Whumper stares. He brings the glass to his lips.

[whumpwillow]

something about a rich whumper turned whumpee just hits different, you feel me?

[oddsconvert]

I know we've only had this in one drabble (so far 😈) but I am OBSESSED with broken Izaak

Thank you so much anon!!!! Have some more!! 😘 I hope this suffices!!! 🫶

---

Izaak can feel himself slipping away, like grains of sand sifting through his shaking, bony fingers. Soon there’ll be nothing left of him. Not even the hollow shell of a man that once was. The way Ronan describes it is almost like metamorphosis. Rebirth. Izaak will grow and transform into something beautiful; like a tadpole into a frog or a caterpillar into a butterfly.

This is devolution. A man reduced to a mutt. From standing tall on two legs, to shoved crawling on all fours. Stripped of his voice, his bite and his bark. Izaak won’t be human anymore, he’ll be a tamed and pathetic beast. How the mighty fall.

Click click.

Izaak’s ears twitch and his head instantly snaps up at the click of Ronan’s fingers. He swallows hard, gulping back nerves lodging in his throat. He pulls himself onto weak, unsteady knees, letting his hands rest limply in his lap. He patiently awaits his order, like a good pet. He is a good pet. Good things come to good pets…like Henley. Ever so spoiled. Izaak wants to be spoiled rotten too.

Ronan hums his satisfaction with a grin that makes Izaak's stomach twist and pinch, as he leans back into his chair, spreading his legs a tad wider and patting the space between his thighs.

"Come here, my boy," Ronan calls with a whistle.

Shame swells in Izaak's heaving chest, he finds himself automatically and hurriedly scampering across the room to Ronan's feet. He folds over and nuzzles against Ronan's legs, before perching between them and resting his head gently against his master. Just how Ronan likes it. Izaak can virtually see the brownie points tallying up.

"You've been such a good little pet for me, haven't you?" Ronan coos, raking his fingers through Izaak's overgrown, ratty hair. But it does feel good. Izaak's eyes loll back at the sensation, he melts into the touch. He'd choose this over the endless pain anyday. Izaak was a thick-headed fool to fight back in the first place.

"Yes, master…" Izaak croaks, though the voice that comes out doesn't sound like him. He doesn't recognise himself anymore. Maybe it's easier that way. He can't mourn the life and person he lost if he can't remember it.

"And you're happy now. Now you understand your lot in life. Aren't you?"

"S-so happy, master."

"Hmm," Ronan narrows his eyes, deep in thought. He looks…unconvinced. Dissatisfied. Izaak feels a pang of disappointment rip right through him like a bullet. He has to keep Ronan sweet, he can't rock the boat.

Ronan pinches Izaak's chin between his thumb and forefinger, lifting his head up until their eyes are locked. Izaak tries not to shrink back when his saucer-wide eyes are staring into piercing green.

"I want you to beg me."

"S-Sir?" Izaak gasps, astonished. He feels the air get whisked from his lungs.

"Beg for me to hurt you, pet."

"I-I don't understand. I've…I've been good-"

Izaak can't keep the wobble of threatening tears from his voice, or stop them glazing over his bloodshot eyes. He nervously picks at the already bitten and shredded nails on his fingers, trying to ground himself. It's taken everything in him to submit, to play the part of an animal. If this isn't enough- if Izaak isn't enough -

"You have. Oh believe me, you've been a delight, Izzy. I wouldn't change you for the world," Ronan reassures, batting his eyelashes. Ronan kisses his hand and holds it against Izaak's temple as his eyes flutter shut. He imagines the kiss seeping through his skull and wrapping around his brain, keeping him under control.

"But good gets boring. I should keep up your training. Stop you slipping into old habits."

A tear slips free, and Izaak shakes his head against Ronan's hand. He dares to pull away, so he can collapse at Ronan's feet again and beg for mercy. He shrinks into a ball, sobbing and mumbling incoherently to himself.

No more pain. No more suffering. He was told if he gave in, he'd never hurt again. He made a deal with the devil.

"Please-" Izaak rasps, still bent double on the ground. Praying to Ronan as if he's a deity.

"Please what?" Ronan purrs, kicking his feet up to use Izaak's curled body as a footrest. First an animal, now an object. Furniture.

"...Hurt me," Izaak resigns with a whisper.

"Good boy."

----

Izaak tag list: @emmettnet @kira-the-whump-enthusiast @sorrowful-hyacinth

Drabble taglist: @whatwasmyprevioususername  @whumpsday  @sparrowsage  @whumperfully  @wolves-and-winters @canislycaon24 @happy-little-sadist @darkthingshappen @whumping-in-the-dark

[a-whumped-tea]

Whumper with silver fangs biting down on their vampire Whumpee's neck to give them a taste of their own medicine.