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[whumpishstuff]

Whumpee in a cold basement, recently doused in ice water, curled up in a shivering ball, glaring at whumper while their teeth chatter.

Whumper, sat on the other side of the room with a warm towel in their arms, waiting patiently to see how long whumpee wants to play the defiance game, how long until they break and crawl over to whumper, into their arms, begging to be dried off and warmed up by them.

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Writing about collars

As someone who wears a lot of collars and chokers, I thought I’d share what it’s really like for all you whump writers out there!

If you’ve been wearing a collar non-stop for multiple hours, your neck will get sweaty and itchy

Even if the collar isn’t actually tight, it might feel like it and create a constant sense of discomfort

Looking down with a collar will make it harder to breathe

If the collar is tight enough, you will constantly feel your heartbeat in your neck and it’s very annoying and disturbing

Taking deep breaths with a tight collar puts pressure on your throat and it’s very uncomfortable

Metal collars will be cold at first but quickly warm up against your skin

If your hands are free, you will likely put a finger between your collar and neck to get more breathing space

You often have to move your head around to find the most comfortable position where you don’t feel your collar pressing on your throat too much

Don’t be shy to add more!

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What if instead of a collar Whumpee was made to wear something more socially acceptable?

Like a necklace, bracelet, earring(s), piercing(s). All in Whumper’s taste of course and Whumpee is definitely not allowed to take it off without permission.

The harmless jewelry carries a message Whumpee can never ignore. That they are owned. A hidden message but for the whole world to see.

To make things worse, when they are out people compliment their jewelry. Saying it looks real good on them, really suits them! 

Whumpee just fidgets, hesitant to express their thanks. After all, it is not something they chose. In fact, they hate it! And it only signifies their lost freedom. So they stutter and try to steer the conversation to something else..

Worse even when Whumper is standing behind them, beaming at the flattery, curling a hand tighter over Whumpee’s shoulder, forcing them without a word to accept the compliments.

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can we get a “hell yeah” for captive whumpees who have outside contact with other people, but can’t ask for help for some reason?

maybe they have online contacts and their screen is monitored remotely?

maybe they are allowed to go outside but only in the company of whumper/with a listening device?

perhaps they talk over the phone, with whumper leaning over their shoulder, holding a knife to their throat.

bonus if the person they talk to is caretaker, who has a feeling something is wrong but has no proof, because whumpee keeps saying everything is fine.

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“Don’t think for a second that you’re getting away with that. I just need to deal with your little co-conspirator, then I’ll be able to take my time with you.”

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“You know, it’ll bleed less if you just stay fucking still.”

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“Oh? It hurts? Why I had no idea! It’s not as if it’s supposed to be a punishment or anything.”

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"Come back for more, pretty boy?" Whumper asks, dragging a thumb across the whumpee's bottom lip. Whumpee glares up at them, mouth pulled back in a sneer. "Don't call me that," Whumpee growls, shaking and pulling at their chains. "What? Pretty boy?" Whumper taunts, leaning forward to cup whumpee's face in the palm of their hand. "What you gon' do about it, huh?" Whumper smiles, dark and sinister.

"That's right, nothing. You're mine for tonight, doll." Whumper licks their lips, tilting the whumpee's face forward using their index finger.

"All mine."

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"Shh, don't cry now, darling. This is a reward, not a punishment. The sooner you learn to enjoy it, the easier it'll be for you."

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Whump Prompt 154

Whumper deliberately slamming doors and objects to deprive the whumpee of sleep and make them all jumpy from the loud noises.

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“So very feisty. I may actually need some help in breaking you. Shall I call some friends?”

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50 followers! <3

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take comfort away

Take away your whumpee’s comfort.

Have them endure endless torture, just barely holding on to their sanity, clinging to the memories of Caretaker and their gentleness, their love, and then have Whumper corrupt it. 

Caretaker used to play with Whumpee’s hair? Whumper runs gentle fingers through it, braiding and massaging and then suddenly digging nails in, drawing blood, yanking on the locks until tears form in Whumpee’s eyes. 

Caretaker used to sing to Whumpee? Whumper hums during torture, sings whatever song is in their head as they hurt and hurt and hurt. Worse, they hold Whumpee and sing to them then, a hand snaking around Whumpee’s throat and cutting off breath. No duets. 

Caretaker used to bring Whumpee little snacks? Hot chocolate or fruit or sweets? Whumper throws rotted fruit over whumpee, or searing hot milk that smells too much like home, shoves sweets down their throat until they throw it all back up and choke. 

Caretaker used to draw baths for Whumpee? Whumper throws them into a freezing cold tub, filled with rose petals and bubbles, sweet smelling oils and gentle candles, and holds their head under the water until Whumpee’s thrashing turns truly desperate.  

Caretaker and Whumpee used to read to each other, nestled in front of a fireplace? Whumper forces Whumpee to read to them, pressed close and bound there by chains, a knife poised at the ready for if when Whumpee makes a mistake. Whumper reads too, right against Whumpee’s ear, forcing Whumpee to hold the book and turn pages for them. 

And in the end, when there’s a rescue, and a recovery, and when Caretaker is there and doing their best - comforting Whumpee as they always have - how does Whumpee tell them? 

How does Whumpee tell them that the feeling of fingers in their hair makes them want to cry? That humming and singing sends a jolt of pure fear through their blood now. That just the smell of the foods Whumpee used to love makes them gag?  That bubbles and candles and oils and roses smell like torture?  That reading and page turning is just being trapped trapped trapped and stinks like blood? 

How does Whumpee tell them that Whumper took Caretaker from them for good, rescue or not? 

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my poor babies 

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*Alaric and Beau part 7*

part 6

  “Kneel.” Alaric gives the order with practiced ease. He’s made Beau kneel at his feet for at least an hour a day for the past week. 

  “Yes, Sir.” Beau’s cheeks still redden in humiliation as he lowers himself to the concrete. His heart feels more and more heavy with every degradation, but he silently refuses to let it force him to give up on himself. 

  Beau kneels on the cushion Alaric placed next to the chair, ever careful to not inflict needless cosmetic damage. He faces away from Alaric, the familiar boredom of staring at the gray wall setting in almost immediately. He taps his fingers against his legs without thinking.

  “What did I tell you about fidgeting, darling?” Alaric’s voice rings out, making Beau flinch.

  “You told me that I am to be still when kneeling, Sir.” Beau parrots the line that Alaric had fed him the first time he’d fidgeted. The second time, he just grabbed Beau around the neck and squeezed until he choked. 

  “Good boy.” The tapping of keys resumes. Beau fights the urge to sigh. He’d already exhausted all his important lines of thought. Escape plans, possible weapons, ways to manipulate Alaric. It’s all he really thinks about, but you can only think something through so many times before it feels useless to continue. 

  Three sharp knocks echo through the small room. Beau jumps, Alaric chuckles and pets his head. The door on the other hand, receives a stern glare. Alaric begrudgingly stands and opens the door. Beau cranes his neck to try and see who had dared to interrupt Alaric’s quiet time. He can’t see anyone past Alaric’s bulk, which gives him hope that it might be Naoko. His hope is crushed when he hears a deeper, differently accented voice tell Alaric to lighten up. 

  “I told you, you can meet him when he’s better trained.” Alaric sounds supremely annoyed by the mans presence.

  “Aww come on. I introduced you to Catalina right away!” The man whines like a child, Beau stifles a laugh at the discrepancy between his and Alaric’s personalities.  

  “Fine. If it’ll get you out of my hair, you can introduce yourself. But that’s all.” Beau’s surprised to hear Alaric give in so easily. Alaric stands aside, revealing a small, good looking man. The man smiles widely upon the sight of Beau. He rushes forward and gets on one knee to be at Beau’s level.

  “Wow! You’re so pretty!” The man pats Beau’s head. 

  Beau thinks of the rules Alaric had given him about addressing Mixters. He can only assume the man is a Master, he doesn’t think a helper or a pet could treat Alaric like that. “Thank you, Sir.” He forces himself to bow his head. The man sighs dreamily at the respectful language.

  “Doesn’t seem like you’ll need my help with his training.” The man turns to Alaric and laughs.

  “Most certainly not.” Alaric glares at the man, his expression dark and tense. Beau glances between the two, surprised by Alaric’s open aggression. He’d assumed Alaric would be polite with other Mixters. The man doesn’t seem perturbed by Alaric’s annoyance, he just smiles and pats Alaric on the back.

  “Perhaps I could borrow him sometime? I think Catalina could use a friend.”

  “Most certainly not.” Alaric looks ready to kill. His hands are clenched tightly together behind his back, as if holding back the urge to strike the man. 

  “Hmm. I could bring Catalina here? They could have a little play-date.” He laughs cordially, completely ignoring Alaric’s anger.

  “That can be discussed in the future.” Alaric makes him way to the door, clearly encouraging the man to leave.

  “Oh goodie! I’ll email you about it when I get the chance.” He practically skips through the open door. Beau half expects Alaric to shove him into the hallway by force.

  “Fine, fine. We’ll make a plan. Goodbye Iweobi.” He shuts the door harder than necessary, the slam makes Beau flinch. Alaric sighs heavily as he sits back down, he slumps slightly in the chair, his decent mood ruined. For a moment, Beau almost feels bad for him. 

  “You seems like you have questions. Go ahead.” Alaric’s voice sounds slightly haggard. 

  “Um, who was that, Sir? A master?” Beau looks up at Alaric when he speaks to him, as Alaric had ‘taught’ him. His teaching method being smacking Beau on the head with a book when he didn’t make eye contact at the ‘proper time’.

  “Yes. Iweobi. He’s a powerful figure within the Organization, but not a well liked one.” Alaric gives him a particularly stern look. “I don’t want you to be alone with him, ever. Understood?”

  Beau nods silently before correcting himself. “Yes, Sir.” Alaric turns his focus back to his laptop and Beau turns back to the wall. Beau’s surprised to find that his heart is pounding. Something about Iweobi and how Alaric had reacted to his presence had frightened him. He spends the rest of his time kneeling repeating the interaction over and over in his head.

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She’s so baby...

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