#Captivity Whump

[the-three-whumpeteers]

The whumpee had looked up to the whumper once- idolizing them even, so what the whumper was doing to them left them in a state of shock and denial. The whumpee didn’t want to believe their hero was hurting them, but it was getting harder and harder to ignore, as the scars grew in number every night.

[the-bloody-sadist]

Full on twt just in case it’s too intense for tumblr 💀 SEE HERE

I accidentally got addicted to HSR because of chicken wing boy by the way, didn’t expect to love aventurine while I was at it

[defire]

Defiant and Stoic captured together

(with jokester defiant vibes)

Defiant to whumper: "yeah, keep talking..." Stoic shoots them a shocked look like do you not know when to shut your mouth

Stoic biting their lip and wincing as defiant gets slapped, then talks back again,

Stoic gets beaten instead of defiant, to see if that will shut them up

Stoic to defiant: "I wish I was as brave as you." Defiant laughs. "Brave? I only tell jokes when I'm about to piss my pants. It's the only way I keep my shit together."

Defiant gains respect for their wit and willpower, getting special favors and surviving, while stoic fades from notice and soon isn't important enough to keep alive

Defiant living in terror lest they meet the same fate as stoic and get too "boring"

Or, Stoic watching defiant get brought in bloodier and more broken every time. Trying to teach defiant how to clam up and shut down and defiant just yells at them that "that's not me!"

Stoic gaining respect for their calmness, and then defiant finally pisses whumper off enough to get killed right in front of stoic and stoic just falls to their knees and breaks down

Defiant telling a joke and slapping stoic's arm, stoic lowers their head to hide a smirk. And that smirk makes defiant's whole day.

Stoic interceding for defiant--"no he said he appreciates the finery, sir, not--" Defiant interrupts: "No, you heard me right, peacock." Stoic just melting inside as they watch defiant verbally destroy whumper...

Whumper trying to break stoic's facade by slapping, doing the chin tilt, walking around them, threatening (like "I did need a new personal attendant..."), watching for a flinch, and then defiant interrupts with "hey hands off, that one's mine!"

[whumpdaydreamerx]

Little whump detail that I love: at the beginning of a torture session when Whumpee is first chained or tied up, you see them wrap their hands around to hold the length of the rope or chain.

But afterwards when they’ve been through hours and hours of agony, you see their hands now listlessly hanging in their shackles. Bearing Whumpee’s weight, limp and weak.

It shows a Whumpee entering the ordeal being in control or defiant, but ending up losing all of that and having broken their composure. So much so that they don’t have the ability or the strength to posture anymore.

[whumpitisthen]

Leashed to the floor by a short lenght of chain. The chain has just enough give to let them scramble back just a couple inches, low to the ground on their hands and knees, when they get scared. They can't even look up from how hard the unforgiving leash pulls their neck back towards the ground unless they stay where they are supposed to, right where whumper wants them to be.

[whumpy-wyrms]

some random whumpy doodles i forgor i made :P teehee

[whumblr]

I, too, like the trope 'forced to listen' with hearing agonising screams from the room at the other side of the cell block.

But I'd like to raise with:

Hearing a single gunshot followed by earth shattering silence from the room at the other side of the cell block.

[whump-queen]

“C’mon mutt, look at the camera. Your owner wants to make sure you’re still breathing.”

[whumppromptoftheday]

"you're going to kill me?" whumpee asks

whumper tilts their head and pouts mockingly, "we're going to have a little fun first."

[hurt-the-innocent-ones]

Whump Dialogue Prompts

(Feel free to use but please tag me! I wanna read what you make with these :D) (NSFW under the cut, minors dni)

Whumpee:

“No, stop—shut up, you’re lying! They wouldn’t—they’d never—shut up, shut up, shut up!”

“Please, no…not now. I can’t, please…please just let me rest…”

“Get the fuck away from me! No, don’t—get back—come anywhere near me with that and I swear to God you’ll regret it!”

“You’re fucking delusional if you think for a second I’d ever follow your fucking orders.”

Whumper:

“Hold still or I’ll re-tie those ropes so tight your hands will fall off.”

“If you’d just tell me what I want to hear…”

“This is to make you better, you know that.”

“I knew you were pathetic, but pissing yourself over a little pain is just gross.”

Caretaker:

“Shh, it’s okay. I know, I know it hurts but shh, you need to keep quiet, stay still, it’ll be okay, just calm down…”

“You’re gonna be okay, you hear me? We’ll get you out of here, we’ll fix you up, good as new, I promise. No, don’t try to talk, save your breath.”

“Why the fuck didn’t you tell me it was this bad?”

“Fuck, what did they do to you…oh God, you’re awake? No, it’s okay! It’s a good thing, it’s good, you’re doing great. Talk to me, tell me anything, just stay awake. Eyes on me.”

NSFW (TW)

Whumper:

“A pretty thing like you should’ve seen this coming.”

“And here I thought I was fucked up. Are you seriously getting off on this?”

“If I stop, what will you do for me in return?”

Whumpee:

“No, please, not that—please, please no, anything but that, not again!”

“What…wait, what are you doing—no, stop! Stop! I said stop!”

“No…no, you can’t! I’ve never—you sick fucking—wait, wait, please wait, I—you—prep me first, please, I’ll tear, you have to prep me first—”

Caretaker:

“Where are your clothes? Why are you…oh God.”

“Oh God…tell me [Whumper] didn’t…”

“No! No, I’d never—I’m not going to do that. I was just trying to help you change your clothes, remember?”

[a-crumb-of-whump]

Content: Captivity, implied multiple whumpers, muzzles, gags, defiant whumpee, touch starvation, starvation.

Whumpee stopped fighting years ago, but Whumper believes that it's all an act to convince them to ease up on the restrictions.

So, even though Whumpee has no intention of biting anymore, they still have to wear a muzzle, gag or metal bit at all times.

Even though they no longer dream of escaping, they're still confined to the basement of the house; a room with no windows and a door that's bolted shut whenever Whumper isn't around.

Even though they'd do anything to be held in someone's arms, nobody but Whumper is allowed to visit the basement alone, and nobody is allowed to touch them, for the safety of everyone else.

They're still forced to wear thick fingerless gloves to stop them from scratching.

People refuse their requests to be fed out of concern that they'll return to their aggressive state if they regain their strength.

No matter how much they yearn to prove that they've changed, Whumper will never give them that opportunity.

[artistic-freedom-enjoyer]

What about whumper befriending caretaker after caretaker "lost" whumpee?

The whumper loved the facade they had mastered, one that presented them as a quiet and harmless person, as it meant that nobody ever suspected them after the whumpee disappeared. The whumper had plenty of time before others even thought about them as a suspect, and they were going to make every second agonizing for their poor captive.

[defire]

Sounds--breath

Content: whipping, gun, manhandling, gag, noncon touch, restraints

Hitching of breath preparing for a lash of the whip

Sharp inhale as whumpee feels a gun pressed their side "h-h"

Victim's hand is twisted till it almost sprains but doesn't yet "ah--"

Huff out from the impact as they're slammed onto a table

Shaking exhale as victim is forced to hold a position and wait for pain

Breathing through a gag

the hitching, squeaking breath as someone tries to stop crying and kind of can't

A verbal flinch as whumper touches them

The breath they let out when the door closes behind whumper

An audible shudder as fingers press and explore

Gasping their breath back after being choked or drowned

Sarcastic sigh preceding a defiant comment

Whumper panting, out of breath, grinning at whumpee now bound and gagged (and beat up) on the floor

Whumper sighing with satisfaction as they run a hand up whumpee's back

an unreleased scream in whisper

[holidayinhell]

The Laundry Room

Characters: creepy/intimate Whumper, captive Whumpee CWs: captivity, noncon (mostly implied but eh), sexual/noncon nudity, food denial, discussion of amputation, classic whump shiz

In the early days of his captivity, Whumpee was allowed to sleep on the couch in the basement. Now he spent his days chained up on the floor of the wash room, tethered to the column in the center of the laundry room with a radius of no more than twenty feet to roam about. The cold of the cellar was inescapable. Sometimes, late at night, he would secretly turn on the dryer on its lowest setting and press his face to its warmth. It was one of the only good things left in his life anymore. Now all he had to look forward to was the sweet release of sleep and laundry day once a week.

“Whuuuum-peeeee!” Called a singsong voice from the top of the steps.

Whumpee swallowed. No matter how many times this happened, he was never prepared for it.

The wooden steps creaked in protest under Whumper’s heavy boots. The tall man rounded the corner of the basement into the subterranean laundry room, where he found his favorite captive chained to the central support beam, exactly where he’d left him.

“Got a little something to keep you busy.” Whumper grinned, dumping the contents of the laundry basket he was holding onto the floor. “Turn around.”

Before he finished giving the command, Whumpee had already presented his captor with the zip ties securing his wrists behind his back. Normally Whumper would remove the binds the moment he got home, but he'd had already been back for hours. Maybe he was busy with something else. Or maybe he did it on purpose.

Whumper retrieved his switchblade from his pocked and flipped it open.

“So I saw something on the news again today.” Whumper informed his captive, snapping the plastic ties with his knife.

“Apparently someone found an old hat in the woods. They think that it’s one of yours. It started another search for you, if you can goddamn believe it, and it’s even bigger than before. There’s helicopters and scent tracing dogs and all.”

Whumper unbuckled his belt, sliding the leather strap through the loops of his pants. “That’s some crazy persistence, all for one person. Like, move on with your lives, people. What’s it been, a whole year now?”

“Ten months.” Whumpee replied weakly, rubbing the red marks on his wrists.

“Shietttt, has it really been that long? I was just kidding.” Whumper said playfully, his voice laced with something sinister. “Well, you know what they say: time flies when you’re having fun.”

Fun. Is that what this was?

“I’m just glad they haven’t given up hope yet.”

Whumpee knew he’d misspoke the second the words left his mouth.

“Wrong, Whumpee.” The air went heavy. Whumper shot a disdainful glance at Whumpee, his eyes narrowing with contempt. “People need to stop searching. They need to give up already.”

Whumper was still clutching his leather belt in his hands. For the sake of his physical wellbeing, Whumpee decided to ignore the comment completely.

“Uh, so separate these by color, then?” Whumpee asked as he pawed through the dirty laundry on the floor, desperate to change the subject.

Whumper’s mind was still on the search. “Hmm? Oh, yeah, like usual. Remember to run the sheets—“

“On delicate mode?” Whumpee finished his thought. “Mhmm. Got it.”

Whumpee busied himself by sorting through the dirty laundry pile while Whumper loomed by the room’s entrance. Whumpee watched him cautiously from the corner of his eye. The sociopath was silently brooding, his eyes fixed on Whumpee’s form.

He wished Whumper would fuck off and go back upstairs.

Doing laundry once a week was one of the only tasks he was allowed to do, and as depressing as it was, he actually looked forward to it. It was one of the only things he had to keep himself entertained with. 

In the early days of his captivity, Whumper had allowed him to watch the small tv in the basement living room and provided him with an endless supply of magazines and books. And to think, Whumpee thought he was a prisoner back then. Like most everything in Whumpee’s life, his privileges had been taken away one by one. 

Whumper removed the tv within the first month. He never gave Whumpee a reason why. Next were the books. Then the couch. And soon enough, Whumpee found himself chained to a pole with his wrists zip-tied behind him for ten hours at a time, praying that his captor would at least remember to feed him that day.

Whumpee started a pile of lights, darks, and colors, sorting each garment into its designated pile. Whumper remained in the doorway and watching his captive intently, his presence entirely unwelcome.

“So, um. Did you make something good for dinner?” Whumpee piped up, breaking the tension of the silence.

Ever since he’d been captured all his brain would fixate on was food, and the only thing he could think about currently was the sumptuous meaty smell that had been tantalizing his tastebuds for the past hour.

“Mmm.” Whumper nodded, crossing his arms and stepping into the room. “Roast chicken and mashed potatoes. Garlic bread too, just from the store.”

Whumpee’s eyes widened hungrily.

“No leftovers I’m afraid.” He added.

“Oh.” 

Whumpee crumbled in on himself. That meant no dinner tonight.

Whumpee opened the cabinet above the sink to retrieve a box of detergent. He popped off the lid and scooped the plastic measuring cup into the powder, leveling the mountain of excess with a swipe of his finger.

“You should wash your clothes as well, Whumpee.” The tall man remarked from across the room.

“Uh, yeah. I will.” Whumpee agreed, continuing to avoid eye contact. He placed the pre-measured cup of detergent on the counter, turning to gather up the sorted pile of white clothes from the floor. He chucked them into the washing machine, sprinkled the soap crystals on top, and closed the lid.

He really wished Whumper would go away now, but the tall man stood firmly in place. Whumpee knew where this was going.

“I said you should wash them, Whumpee. That means to take them off.” 

Whumpee stiffened. God fucking damn it. 

Not right now. Not that he wanted to go through this shit ever, but Whumper seemed to be in an especially odd mood this evening.

Whumpee did as he was commanded. It wasn’t worth the fight. He lifted his pale blue button-up over his head, not bothering to unclasp the buttons, and tossed it into the pile of colors. He removed his socks and pants and did the same. Finally he stood in nothing but his white boxer-briefs, awkwardly shimmying them down his thighs until they slid down his legs and hung at his ankles. Blushing, he stepped out of them and walked over to the washing machine, chucking the underwear into the load of whites as it filled with water. 

A chill rocked his body when Whumper approached from behind.

The larger man pushed his hips into Whumpee’s back, pinning him squarely against the machine as it hummed to life. “Mmm. I should make you walk around naked all the time. Don’t you think?”

“It, uh… it gets really cold down here.”

“Psht.” Whumper draped his arms around Whumpee’s neck. “So I’ll buy you an electric blanket. That’d be nice, right?”

“Sure. But, please, I really do need my clothes.”

Whumper’s arms traveled down the sides of Whumpee’s torso and trailed inwards to find his ass. One hand delivered a crisp smack, which immediately left behind a glowing red mark. He smiled, scooping a buttcheek into each palm, jiggling what little flesh was there.

“Your ass is so tiny.” Whumpee quipped.

Yeah, that’s what happens when you average 400 calories a day for nearly a year.

“Yeah. I’m pretty skinny now.”

“You look good like this.” Whumper purred into his ear as he delicately stroked the length of Whumpee’s back. “But I do miss the ass.”

Time to go away now, Whumpee thought. Please, please just go the fuck away.

Whumper smacked Whumpee’s ass again, scooping it up and grinding the denim fabric on his crotch against the thin man’s perfect, bare skin while caressing his neck with his hot, wet tongue. He took Whumpee’s earlobe into his mouth and suckled it lightly, biting down on the soft flesh with only a tiny amount of pressure.

“Mm, you have goosebumps.” Whumper murmured with a self-satisfied grin. “Did that turn you on?”

Two of Whumper’s fingers traced the curvature of his ass and found Whumpee’s entrance. The digits dabbed at the hole gently, teasing and prodding the skin but never pushing inside. The firm touch sent an involuntary shiver up Whumpee’s spine. Whumper smirked at his reaction and nibbled at the side of Whumpee’s neck.

He was so cold, the warmth on his neck felt good. But nothing else did.

“I keep thinking,” Whumper cooed, Whumpee melting into him for heat. “Maybe it’s finally time to give your friends closure. Feels cruel to keep dragging things out like this. They need to stop looking for you.”

For the first time in months, Whumpee felt a vague twinge of hope. 

“What? You mean that you’ll--?”

“What I mean is, they’ll be looking for a body.”

Oh. Oh no.

“W-what?” Whumpee stammered. He twisted out from under Whumper, his chain rattling against the floor as he side-stepped his captor. “What does that mean?”

“I feel a little guilty about it. The search for you has been going on for ages, and now they’re bringing out helicopters and shit? That’s a waste of taxpayer money. The cops could be out there doing real good.”

“No. What did you mean by ‘body’?”

“I was thinking we could chop off one of your legs or something. Maybe just a foot.” 

“No!” Whumpee shrieked. “You can’t!” He delivered a feeble push against Whumper’s chest, pivoting out from underneath him. His heart was pounding in his ears so loud, he pressed his hands to cover them and doubled over in fear.

The reaction took Whumper by surprise. “Bad joke.” he offered, placing a calming hand on the other’s shoulders. 

It wasn’t a joke.

The tall man rubbed his captive’s back until Whumpee’s breath finally evened out. It felt like a betrayal, the way his body responded so well to Whumper’s comforting touch. He jerked away from the sociopath’s reach.

Whumpee blinked incredulously at the man, his cheeks burning with anger. “Don’t.” he spat.

“What?”

“Don’t you fucking dare--”

“Excuse me? Don’t I fucking dare do what?”

“Don’t fucking joke about mutilating me!” Whumpee shouted.

“Hey.” Whumper cautioned. “You’re being too goddamn loud right now.”

Whumpee was frenzied, his chain skittered around as he paced around in a tight circle, pulling at chunks of his hair.

“How long are you going to keep me here?!” Whumpee demanded. “How much fucking longer!?”

“As long as I goddamn like.”

“Just let me go. Just please…” Whumpee pled tearfully, his emotions see-sawing violently between anger and complete despair. “You got what you wanted from me. Why won’t you let me leave…?”

Whumper shrugged. “It never was a part of the plan.”

“Fuck you!” The captive yelled. “I fucking hate you!”

“Whumpee.” Whumper warned with a stern finger, “it’s time to shut the fuck up.”

“I HATE Y—!”

Whumper grabbed a length of chain from the floor and yanked it towards him, forcing Whumpee to the ground by the shackle around his ankle.

Whumper continued pulling the chain into himself, dragging Whumpee’s body across the cold cement floor with every tug. It all happened too quickly for Whumpee to process.

“I should bash your face into the concrete again.” He growled, standing over his collapsed body. Whumpee could taste blood in his mouth. “But I’ll give you one last chance. I guess I didn’t say it explicitly enough last time, so hopefully this time it fucking sinks in: you are here to stay. There will be no more talk of kidnapping, or rescue, or freedom, or fucking escaping. No more of that. You’re here. You’re mine. This house--no--this room, is your whole fucking world, and I am your god. Get used to it.”

Whumpee lifted his head slightly and shot a fiery glance in Whumper’s direction.

“You better wipe that look off your pathetic face while you’ve still got one.” Whumper flicked his switchblade open.

He lifted one of his boots and rested its rubber sole on Whumpee’s back, pressing him into the floor. Brandishing the knife overhead, he commanded Whumpee: “Show me why I choose to keep you around. Remind me that you haven’t fucking forgotten your sole purpose in life, or I’ll saw your leg off right fucking now.”

Face-down on the floor, Whumpee let out a sigh so small only he could hear it.

He knew what he had to do. He didn’t have any other options. Silent tears rushed down his cheeks and fell soundlessly to the floor.

And so out of self-preservation, Whumpee thrust his hips into the air and pushed his face to the floor, his bare ass on full display. He shifted weight into his palms and spread his legs out, his dick and balls tumbled forward, swaying slightly while he found his balance. His hands reached back behind him, blindly tracing the outsides of his thighs, following a line up and over to the round cleft of his butt cheeks.

Choking down a sob, he forced his ass apart. He disgracefully presented his hole before Whumper’s shining, ravenous eyes.

The captor’s jeans fell to the ground. The man dropped to his knees, settling himself in the space between Whumpee’s open legs. 

“When I’m done with you, you are going to fucking thank me like your life depends on it.”

The sudden, high-pitched beep of the washing machine pierced the quiet of the room, signalling that the washing was done. 

Whumpee didn’t dare move an inch.

“And after I’ve filled you up,” Whumper’s hot breath hit his ear. 

“You’re going to tell me exactly which limb to cut off.”

((more Whump oneshots))

[cravesunconditionallove]

I love team whump.

Having people feel so strongly about rescuing you... they'd risk their lives just to try. They keep you alive while they rush you back to safety. They provide comfort when you're half-awake in the ICU, on a ventilator, scared and disoriented. They help you keep up motivation through rehab and therapy. They don't judge you when you're too overwhelmed by trauma to speak yet.

They finally find their teammate, huddled in the corner of their tiny cold cell, shacked, bruised, broken.

The quiet, worried, "shh, it's okay now, you're safe."

A whispered prayer as they hold your clammy hand, arm entangled in wires and tubes and tape and bandages, hoping you'll make it through.

[whump-in-the-night]

Maybe a weird like, but I love it when whumpee is just like... passed out or unconscious. Or just sleeping.

Maybe they've just been captured and are laying unconscious on the floor of their cell, having been knocked out during their capture.

Maybe whumper drugged them.

Maybe they've passed out due to blood loss or something (or someone) hitting them on the head.

Maybe they've been sedated or anesthetized for a medical procedure. If it's field medicine, maybe whumpee's only choice for anesthetic is "here, drink a lot of alcohol."

Maybe they're resting peacefully in bed while caretaker (or whumper/carewhumper...) watches over them.

Just. Sleeping/unconscious whumpees.