go-whump-in-the-night

[go-whump-in-the-night]

a whumpee who refuses to speak, after being taught for so long, "speak when spoken to." And having their words used against them. The whumpees that, even after rescued refuse to talk. The silent ones.

[go-whump-in-the-night]

"Él no parecía de cascabel pero lo seguí viendo como a una víbora"

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"Stay down."

[go-whump-in-the-night]

To celebrate the upcoming valentines day (and also the fact that there are now over 100 of you out there following me) I'm holding my first free YCH raffle for the whump community!

What's being raffled?

The finished art will be a greyscale rendered sketch of any two characters you want, in the poses seen above. Any body types, outfits, hair, etc. are fine. You can also:

customize the restraints and gag

add injuries/bruises/blood

change the expressions

make it NSFW

add speech bubble/s

Rules:

To enter, please reblog this post. That's all!

You don't have to be following me to enter (but I plan to do more of these, and I post cool whump stuff sometimes so, yknow, you could.)

The raffle will end on February 14th, and one winner will be drawn via a random name picker. The draw will happen around 4pm GMT (10am CST).

I will DM / send an ask to the winner to let them know they've won. They then have 24 hours to confirm, or I'll pick a new name.

[Optional] Add in your reblog tags what character/s you'd like to see in this precarious position!

Thanks as always for enjoying the stuff I post here. And good luck to everyone who enters! 🦎

[go-whump-in-the-night]

When whumpee is whumped consensually.

Not in like a romantic/sexual way but because…

It’s better than the alternatives (trading themselves for a loved one)

It’s something they’ve submitted themselves too (a sort of training or preset punishment)

They believe they deserve it

[go-whump-in-the-night]

fucked up hurt/comfort. the person who stabbed you tends to your wound. the person who killed your loved one helps you grieve.

[go-whump-in-the-night]

(each option is described below the poll under the read more. read all descriptions carefully before making your choice.)

mattress bed: a simple white mattress in the corner of your whumpee's new unfurnished bedroom. there are a few stains and tears suggesting that it's a used mattress, most likely used for previous captives. does not come with pillows or blankets.

dog bed: this bed isn't just suited for dogs! your whumpee can fit the plush circular mat if they curl up into a tight ball, knees up to their chin. a blanket for extra bedding is optional, as well as a second blanket to keep whumpee warm on those chilly nights.

cot bed: designed for babies and toddlers, this cot bed has rails on all sides to prevent whumpee from falling, sleepwalking, and escaping. though small in size, your whumpee can fit if they make themselves as small as possible. comes with optional baby mobile, baby blanket, and pacifier for all of whumper's humiliation needs.

prison bunk bed: whether it's the top or bottom bunk, this bed consists of two firm mattresses on a metal frame, and one pillow and one blanket each. the pillow is saggy and provides no neck support, and the blanket is quite thin. but perhaps the bunkmate is whumpee's biggest concern...

hospital bed: though this bed is supposed to be comfortable for patients, it carries a clinical sense of unfamiliarity, and the dread of not knowing when whumpee will be leaving. the sheets are scratchy, obviously not the same detergent as what whumpee uses. it doesn't have whumpee's plushies, or pillows, or blankets. and there's that distinct hospital smell to it.

pile of straw: exactly how it sounds. it's uncomfortable, itchy, and whumpee can feel the straw poking and prodding and rubbing up against their skin. but it's the only place they could find to sleep in this 'abandoned' barn. or maybe it's the only place whumper allows them to sleep, being part of the farm.

royal bed: this four-poster canopy bed is the pinnacle of luxury, draped in lavish curtains that can be drawn for privacy, covered in fancy throw pillows, and decorated with the finest quilts over two mattresses. even the bed frame itself is rich mahogany with ornate patterns carved in the woodwork. maybe this bed belongs to whumpee. maybe it's the 'public' royal bed that is only for ceremonial use, and whumpee retires to a smaller, private bed after. or perhaps this bed belongs to whumper, and whumpee has the honor of gracing it for...certain reasons.

body drawer bed: morgues are quite efficient in how they store corpses, using metal drawers that slide in and out. whumpee may not be dead (or maybe...undead? presumed dead?), but the facility would rather not expend space and money on an actual bed for them, so drawers are the way to go. they prevent escape, they keep the body still, and it's not like your whumpee deserves to be comfortable. they're just a weapon. an object. a thing that serves a purpose.

hotel bed: a simple, no thrills hotel bed with your standard white sheets, white pillows, and perhaps a beige blanket over a thin comforter. maybe this is just a temporary place to sleep as your whumpee is on the run, or in hiding. or maybe whumper would just rather keep whumpee in a hotel than at home. perhaps this is the bed where whumpee is peacefully asleep, enjoying their vacation, when the hotel door silently opens and a gloved hand presses down on their mouth, silencing their screams...

coffin bed: a lot of time and effort goes into making coffins beautiful and comfortable, even if the dead can't enjoy it. your whumpee may not enjoy being buried alive, or sleeping in a coffin their first night as a vampire, but they might appreciate the soft satin interior!

illusion bed: this bed only exists in whumpee's mind. maybe it's from a memory, used to cope with those cold, lonely nights on the floor, wishing they were safe at home. or maybe it's a construct created by the mental dream world that whumper has made for them, so that they smile and sigh happily as they snuggle under the covers, not feeling the pinch of a needle sliding under their skin, or the sharp scalpel cutting into their flesh.

ritual bed: this bed is only used for specific rituals, a slab of stone with religious symbols etched into it and sheer silks draped for decoration, typically drawn back. instead of a mattress with pillows and blankets, this bed has metal cuffs to secure whumpee with and holes in the bottom to help blood drain out. they have to keep this bed clean for the next ritual, after all.

optional:

vote without reblogging

vote and reblog to pass it along

say which bed you chose for who

say which bed is your favorite and why

draw or write something using your bed of choice

completionist route: put your whumpee(s) in all the beds and either share your scenario or draw/write something for each one

have fun with your bed whump! :)

[go-whump-in-the-night]

from the bottom of my heart: just because something makes you uncomfortable doesn't mean it shouldn't be allowed to exist

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beating up blorbo isn't enough i need to subject him to medical torture

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Requiring whumpee to cooperate

(some of my favorite most awful tropes)

Content: whipping, punishment, noncon nudity, humiliation

Forcing them to put themselves in vulnerable positions--"lay on the table."

"You remember the punishment room? You get one more chance."

"open your palms." (Whumpee is lying on a table with their hands tied behind their back.) "Or else this whipping will break your fingers. It's up to you, really."

"I want you to count. Say 'thank you sir' after each one."

"Kneel." (Does whumpee thump to the ground immediately, desperately, do they slowly, begrudgingly do it with a glare, and get a slap for it?)

Forcing whumpee to ask to be punished

"Strip." Whumper orders. Whumpee stares at whumper's demand. "I said strip. Or I'll do it. And I won't be delicate."

"That's fifteen lashes. Turn around and face the wall."

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I hate recovery, I hate comfort, I hate healing, I want those boys to suffer FOREVER

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He’s sort of kind of not really okay

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Whump prompt #69

Whumpee froze in their tracks as they were led into the familiar room. It hadn't changed at all since their last capture and the ever present smell of disinfectant made their stomach churn.

"Memories clawing up at you, hm?"

A hand gripped their shoulder and nudged them forward. A whisper brushed against their ear:

"Let's make some new ones."

[go-whump-in-the-night]

previous //

cw: noncon touch, vaguely implied prelude to noncon

§|°|§

"Oh? And how do you plan on doing that?"

Hunter scowls at you, the expression looking more like a dog baring its teeth than anything human, but doesn't respond.

“That's what I thought,” you say with a slight chuckle. “All bark and no bite.”

“Fuck you,” he mutters under his breath. 

Oh, you plan to. You make your way down the steps, slow and casual, the hint of a smirk on your face, eyes never leaving Hunter.

It's slight, but you can see his breathing pick up, muscles tensing under pale skin. Aww, is he nervous?

§|°|§

@whumpyourdamnpears , @taterswhump , @light-me-on-pyre , @echo-goes-aaa , @kixngiggles ,

@thewhumpcrypt , @stainedglassqueen , @3-2-whump , @i-walk-on-the-dark-side , @whumpty-dumpty-doo ,

@chiswhumpcorner , @whumpsday , @merciless-whump , @deluxewhump , @itsmeblackcat ,

@hurt-people-hurt-people , @inhurtandincomfort , @gala1981

[go-whump-in-the-night]

Iska spent three days in the experimentation room.

She had lost count of the times the slender man drew blood from her arms, worsening the mottled bruises that throbbed dully under her skin.

She had lost count of the potions he had injected into her. One of them flushed her whole body with unbearable heat, one of them had locked her limbs and caused her body to seize.

Over and over, hour after horrific painful hour, all to the sounds of bubbling alchemical tools, dripping liquids inside blown glass containers, and the low hum of the slender man as he worked.

She had fought at first, the way she always tried to. After each potion, the slender man would ask her how it felt, and each time she would snarl: "Go to hell!"

But he had left her on the table overnight, strapped down and aching inside and out. And, deprived of rest, the second day started to break something in her.

The slender man had tried to feed her an elixir of her own blood mixed with arcane reagents, and she'd spat it back in his face.

"I admit it," he had sighed, "you are a hellion, and ill-tempered besides. But that fire in you - I will crush it out with my heel, you mark me now, Iska."

"Go to hell, you sick bastard," her voice was a hoarse cough, but that was the last thing she said that day.

The slender man had gagged her with a wooden bit, and continued on with his work the same as the day before. The drugs he used on her that day affected her mind, made her dizzy, and caused her to hallucinate - and the things she saw, crawling in the shadows, flashing in the lamp-light, dancing on the back of her eyelids....

Those things started to break her.

He left her there, in pitch blackness, unable to move, unable to speak or beg or scream, for another full night.

And by the time the morning of the third day finally arrived, Iska could barely think. Her consciousness faded in and out, spiking with each prick of a needle, with each weak flinch as another potion was forced down her throat.

She was barely there. Was she still a human body? How long had it been since she came to this hell? How long since she had seen the outside? Did she have a family...? A name...?

"Iska? Did you hear me, darling?" It was the voice of the slender man, but his image was blurred in the weak tears that pooled in her eyes.

"Hear you...? Please...I...I can't..."

"I know, sweetheart. You're doing very well today. Drink this, now."

She was so thirsty, so hungry, that she swallowed the liquid without protest. It burned her throat on the way down, like she had drunk acid, but she couldn't even groan.

The tears boiled over in her eyes, and rolled down her cheeks, pooling in her ears.

"I can't...I can't...it hurts..."

"That was the last one, Iska, dear. I'll unbuckle you now, take a moment to rest and I'll sent Meres to collect you."

Iska felt the leather straps loosen at her wrists and ankles, but she lay in that position for a while, she couldn't fathom how long. Eventually, almost of their own accord, her limbs shifted and pulled themselves down.

"Aaghh!" A low cry of pain burst past her dry lips, the sharp stabbing pain of her joints screaming as they moved for the first time in days.

And there she lay, tears falling, body damaged, and mind broken until eventually a shadow shifted into her unfocused vision.

"Oh, Iska..."

A familiar voice, gentle, and so full of pity.

"Kill me..." she breathed weakly, "kill me...please..."

But the shadow didn't kill her.

It tenderly, carefully picked her up from the table - flinching at her cries of pain as her fragile body was moved - and carried her out into the harsh light of the hallway.

She didn't want to go back. Not again. Not to that room.

But there was nothing left in her.

And the arms of whoever was holding her were warm, and soft, and their heart beat a drumming lullaby against her ear as she rested her head against their chest.

Iska could only hope, as she closed her eyes, that she would never open them again.

[go-whump-in-the-night]

This post is so funny like comment subscribe if you picture your favs bloodied and coughing on the floor and flinching