#a month of whump

[serickswrites]

Sugar Plums Dancing in Their Heads

Warnings: captivity, torture, restraints, blood, temporary character death, nightmares, flashbacks, hurt/aftermath, hurt/recovery

Caretaker ran down the corridor. They couldn't be too late. Their exhausted body protested being pushed further, their lungs screaming for air. But they couldn't stop. They were so close. They had found Whumpee. Whumpee needed them.

Caretaker skidded to a halt at the end of the corridor, where it opened up to a great room. "NO!" They screeched as their brain finally made sense of what their eyes were seeing.

Whumpee hung limply in the chains keeping them suspended the air. Blood dripped from the deep cuts that littered their body. Their head hung low, obscuring their face from Caretaker's view.

"Whumpee, no! Say something! I'm here!" Caretaker shouted as they raced forward. This wasn't happening. This couldn't be happening.

Whumpee didn't move. Didn't groan. Didn't so much as even breathe as Caretaker called to them. "Whumpee, please, say something," Caretaker said as they reached Whumpee.

Caretaker gasped as they could finally see Whumpee's face. Their eyes were closed, their features lax. Blood and saliva dripped from their mouth. "Whumpee, please. Please, you have to be ok. You have to be ok." Caretaker pressed two shaking fingers to Whumpee's throat.

"NOOOOOOO!" They screamed as there was no pulse beating beneath their finger tips. "PLEASE NOOOO!"

"Caretaker, Caretaker," a voice called gently, wrenching Caretaker out of their horror, "Caretaker you have to wake up."

Caretaker jolted awake. They blinked against the bright lights in the room. Where were they? Whumpee? "I didn't fall asleep."

"You were having a nightmare," Friend said with a gentle smile, "you fell asleep after we got home from visiting Whumpee. You were so exhausted, I thought it best to let you sleep."

Caretaker breathed a sigh of relief. It was a nightmare. It was only a nightmare. Whumpee was alive. Whumpee was alive and healing in the hospital. Whumpee wasn't dead. They had arrived in time. "Thanks for waking me."

Friend nodded. "How about we get you some nice chamomile tea and see if we can chase that dream out of your head."

Tags: @mousepaw @jumpywhumpywriter @knightinbatteredarmor @hufflepuffwritingstuff2 @anightmarishwhump

@steh-lar-uh-nuhs @celestialsoyeon @st0rmm @ay5ksal @pedro-pedro-pedro-pedro-pe

@pepeniascat

[whump-in-the-closet]

The light fades from a characters eyes in five stages

Denial. This isn’t real. You want me on my knees? I mean, if you ask nicely.

No, I’m not apologizing, I didn’t do anything wrong—

Forced to their knees anyway.

Anger. Snapping at the hands that tie them down.

Resist. Resist. Resist. This isn’t right.

Blood on the floor, iron-bitter blood in their mouth, knocked to the floor. Up again. Back down.

Fuck you, you’d have to kill me to shut me up—

Bargaining. If I lick your boots will you give me my clothes back?

If I stay still, can I please sleep tonight?

Please?

They just have to stay strong. Stay alive. Until their friends come.

— god, that’s too far— you can’t make me— anything else? I’ll do anything—

Funny, they thought they had a say in their choices.

Depression.

….

….

They aren’t coming

….

….

No more screaming.

The guards realize they can get away with a lot more when they’re dealing with the quiet prisoner.

Doesn’t matter.

Acceptance. Whatever you say. Sir.

They never had a choice to begin with. Fated to fall from the moment it started. The only thing they could control was how long it took.

It took a while.

But now?

Yes, sir. Immediate.

[95-6qrsk2rx9uq42069nnnnnjthewolf]

i think tim is high maintenance the way a boarder collie or austrialian shepherd is. like you have to make sure they're not only given space to expend energy but you have to specifically let them get the herding instinct out and challenge them intellectually or they start destroying ur home

[egg-writes-whump]

A whumpee who (presumably after escaping whumper or just being missing for an extended period of time) gets home, greets everyone like they weren't ever gone, ignores their questions and just immediately goes to bed

[bebellsoterel]

Day 22 : TOUCH STARVED

Thanks to @cirrus-ghoulette for this whumpmonth !

Again, I digressed from the theme. I guess I was horny. (no)

[tansyuduri]

Art by @kairennart for "Nine Lives" Based on the Five Of Swords Tarrot Card.

Arthur smoothed Merlin's hair again, trying to calm his own breathing. “He’s not waking up,” Arthur’s voice cracked.

“Give it a moment. His body has been through a lot,” Gaius told him. Arthur nodded and tilted Merlin's face upward again. “You’re alright,” he whispered again, “you’re alright. Everything is alright.” Except it wasn’t, and Arthur had no idea how the curse would strike next. 

He watched Merlin, trying not to hyperventilate as he cradled the other man’s cheek. His thumb stroked it gently. “Come on…” Arthur begged, “wake up… You’re alright…” He had to be alright.

Finally, Merlin’s eyes slowly flickered open. The blue that reminded Arthur of a night sky flicked around the room quickly before meeting Arthur’s own eyes and focusing slowly. It was the most beautiful sight Arthur had ever seen. 

It was all he could do not to kiss him right then and there. Let him breathe, he reminded himself. Let him breathe. His thumb continued to stroke Merlin's cheek. He bent forward and kissed his forehead again. Pulling back, he discovered Merlin's eyes still focused on him. 

“Merlin…you can hear me?”  Arthur asked.

Merlin gave a very slight nod, eyes still staring up into Arthur’s. 

“Good, it's about time you woke up from your beauty rest.” It was all Arthur could do to keep his tone even and his voice from cracking as he spoke. 

Merlin’s gaze instantly switched to being utterly incredulous. His eyes practically screamed “you ass”. 

Arthur started to laugh hysterically, and he leaned down, embracing Merlin with both arms. Taking a few deep breaths of his own before pulling back, he sat on the end of Merlin’s bed and pulled the other man close. One hand rubbed up and down Merlin’s back while the other caressed the nape of his neck and the bottom of his black hair. Arthur’s lips pressed over Merlin’s skin wherever he could reach.

Internally, he continued to panic, because this could never happen to Merlin again. And it would if he didn’t do something. An idea struck him, perhaps he could plead with the witch— convince her that her revenge was better if the victim of it was him. 

Fic found here!

[befuddled-calico-whump]

I am not immune to injured sad man unconscious on the pavement in the rain

[serickswrites]

Under the Mistletoe

Warnings: threats, blackmail, referenced noncon, referenced videotaping

"Now, Whumpee, you're going to have to do as I say," Whumper said with a wicked grin.

"I don't have to do shit for you," Whumpee shot back. They glared at Whumper. There was absolutely nothing Whumper could do to make them agree to the proposal. It went against everything Whumpee stood for.

"Oh, but you do, Whumpee," Whumper smirked. They leaned back in the office chair. "You have so many nice things, it would be shame if everyone found out who you truly are."

"And who is that?" Whumpee hated that Whumper had come to their office. Hated everything about Whumper.

"My dirty, little slut."

Whumpee's mouth went dry. "You have no proof of what you did. I have no proof of what you did." Whumpee shuddered as they tried to prevent the memories from coming back.

"Oh, but I do, Whumpee. I do. You see, I wanted to remember our time together, so I took a little video. I love watching what I did to you. I love watching it over and over. And if you don't agree to this proposal, I will ensure everyone you know and love receives a copy of this video. And your life will be over, Whumpee."

Whumpee tried to speak twice before they could finally find their voice. "And when shall the terms of this proposal go into effect?"

"Immediately."

Whumpee shuddered. "Well, I see I have no choice, Whumper."

"And that's what I like about you, Whumpee, watching you squirm as you try to find a way out. No escaping this time," Whumper giggled. "I enjoyed fucking you in my bed. I'm enjoying fucking your life over now. Maybe I'll enjoy fucking you on this desk, too."

Tags: @mousepaw @jumpywhumpywriter @knightinbatteredarmor @hufflepuffwritingstuff2 @anightmarishwhump

@steh-lar-uh-nuhs @celestialsoyeon @st0rmm @ay5ksal @pedro-pedro-pedro-pedro-pe

@pepeniascat

[retributory]

if you think binghe is bad now i want you to take a moment and imagine how bad binghe would be if sy transmigrated right before binghe joined the peak. take a moment with me to imagine how terrible binghe would be in a world where he is coddled and enabled every second of every day by his shizun up until the exact second he is shoved into the abyss. a binghe who was routinely abused and ostracized by his shizun for several years still manifested ways to trip into his boobs and massage his thighs. "am i pleasing to look at" . . . he would be unstoppable if he had only known an sqq who loves him with a sort of sickly fervor. if he had only known the sqq that physically cannot stop himself from petting binghe's head, scratching his chin, pinching his cheeks, wiping his tears away . . . just to throw him away in the end. hold my hand and frolic in these lucious fields with me

[alpaca-clouds]

Yaaay!

@0nelittlebirdtoldme Guess my Whumpe for this one!

It's that time of year again! AMonthOfWhump's Winter Whumperland event runs from December 1-12, with a collection of prompts for your inspiration each day. To participate, create in any medium and share your works on Tumblr. Use the event tags or @ us in your post to get reblogged here. Prompt list transcript, tagging info, and a free-to-use post header under the cut.

1: Santa Claus

Claustrophobia

Forced Celebration

Panic Attack

Comfort: Secret Santa Exchange

2: Krampus

Sensory Overload

Temptation

Whipping

Comfort: Decorating Cookies

3: George Bailey

"We've lost everything we have."

Disowned

Drowning

Comfort: Christmas Market

4: The Grinch

Sedatives

Blackmail

Yandere Whumper

Comfort: Ugly Sweater Party

5: Ebenezer Scrooge

Power Outage

Time Loop

Overworked Whumpee

Comfort: Snuggling by the Fire

6: Jack Frost

Post-apocalyptic Winter

Amnesia

Comfort turned to Fear

Comfort: Snowball Fight

7: Rudolph the Red-nosed Reindeer

Inhuman Whumpee

Exile

Self-sacrifice

Comfort: You’re Not Alone

8: John Mclane

Held Hostage

Russian Roulette

Forced to Watch

Comfort: Rescue

9: Jólakötturinn

Feral Whumpee

Left Behind

Collared

Comfort: Wiping the Other’s Tears Away

10: Tio de Nadal

Conditioning

Left to Die

Final Countdown

Comfort: Holiday Traditions

11: The Yule Goat

Branding

Stitches

Public Whump

Comfort: Trimming the Tree

12: Elf on the Shelf

Trapped

Bedside Vigil

Used as bait

Comfort: Mistletoe (or avoiding it)

Event Tags: #amow winter whumperland 2023, #day1, #claustrophobia, (tag the prompt you're using)

And lastly, here is a post header to use for the event if you like. Happy whumping!

[theredrenard]

Incorrect 9-1-1 + text posts (part 34/??) prev || next

[cassieloveswhump]

Blindfold your whumpees.

Tie their hands together over their head, and put those bindings onto a hook dangling from the roof so that their hands are secured above their head and they can't move away, then blindfold them. Leave them there until they're so tired they'd fall asleep if they could, then beat them up. Punch them in the stomach, and watch them be unable to curl up to protect themself, or use a crowbar if you want more force. Watch them work themself into a panic trying to anticipate and brace for the next blow, then strike at where they're most vulnerable. Rinse and repeat until satisfied.

Bonus marks if whumpee's arms are secured in a way that forces them to stand on their tiptoes in order to relieve the weight pulling on their shoulders, and with every blow they take they lose their balance and have to frantically resume their tiptoe position before their shoulder gets dislocated.

[whumpingandsmilinglikeanidiot]

Whumpee thinks Caretaker is their new master. Good trope, right? But check this out;

Caretaker doesn't notice.

Because the morning after the day they were rescued, all Whumpee did was get Caretaker a cup of coffee. It was only after then that Whumpee realized new master new rules, and Caretaker might not like coffee at all. So after an hour or so of a panic attack, Whumpee decides to stay put and not do anything.

But Caretaker didn't say anything about that coffee, so Whumpee should probably keep doing that?

And so, every morning, Caretaker gets a cup of coffee, says thank you, that's a nice gesture, and gets done with the day, while Whumpee tries to stay as quiet and unnoticed as possible. Not angering Caretaker is their top priority. Caretaker notices Whumpee is really, really quiet, but hey, they might just like it quiet. They do seem a little scared, but they've been putting off well, so Caretaker is positive that they'll get better with time.

Then Caretaker hears Whumper liked a cup of coffee every morning.

That's.. a strange coincidence.

I hope that's a coincidence.

And they finally try to talk to Whumpee about it, and Whumpee breaks into tears and Caretaker realizes what a mess this is,

[bebellsoterel]

Don't judge me...

I'm trying my best to not be horny but it's really difficult. Appreciate Terzo without his makeup ! Thanks to @cirrus-ghoulette for this whump month !

[the-broken-pen]

love your writing yo can I ask for a little hurt-comfort mlm

“Oh. Oh. That’s—that’s a lot of blood,” the voice above him sounded strangled, like they were choking on every word.

The hero cracked an eye open, dizzy and cold and tired, and hummed something that could have been an agreement.

“Hey,” he said, voice raw, and his friend stifled a sob as they collapsed onto their knees at his side.

Their hands pressed hesitantly against the wound, and they were trembling. His hands were slick with blood. It took everything in them to drag them, shaking, to rest on top of his friends, and press down hard.

The pained noise he made caught in the back of his throat. Just barely.

“You have to press harder,” he managed. The pain had swelled to something almost unbearable. He was drowning in it, to the point where it was almost the kind of pain where it became something wretched, something else that swallowed you whole. “The bleeding, it—“ he had to stop, gasping for a breath.

His friend had started crying, but they pressed harder, dutifully. He loved them for it.

“I don’t know what to do,” they sobbed. “You don’t do hospitals. What do I do.”

He let go of his friends hand, digging for his pocket. His grip slipped the first two times; he managed it on the third, sliding his phone onto his stomach.

“Speed dial,” he offered, and closed his eyes before the look on his friend’s face made him vomit.

“Speed dial? Speed dial. Okay. Okay,” his friend said. “It’s fine. Everything is fine.” He was certain his friend wasn’t saying it to him. Their free hand scrambled for his phone.

By the time they managed to get it to ring, the world around him had turned into something muffled and cotton around him.

“You? You’re his speed dial—don’t…I don’t know what….bleeding…not responding…please, just….”

A crack cleaved the air, the smell of ozone suddenly stronger than the smell of his own suffering, and then a hand was replacing his friend’s. The other found the side of his face, thumb curving under his jaw.

“Hey,” and oh, he knew that voice—something raw in his chest eased. “Can you open your eyes for me?”

He managed, just barely, and the villain peered down at him.

“Hey,” he croaked.

“You’re bleeding out,” the villain said, and it was the softest he’d ever heard him. “You need care, or you’re going to die. Can I move you?”

Do you trust me?

“Always,” he tried, but it came out weak and desperate.

The villain pressed harder, and he keened high and pained in the back of his throat. On instinct, his hand darted up to the villain’s wrist, latching on too tight for anyone without superpowers to handle. The villain didn’t flinch.

“You’re okay,” the villain murmured. His thumb brushed over the hero’s jaw, soothing.

There was something the hero was forgetting—

“My friend,” he choked out. “Where—are they—where—“ he struggled to sit up, and the villain simply guided him back down.

“They’re fine,” the villain promised. “I sent them home. Maybe a little traumatized, but they’re okay.”

���Okay.” The hero nodded to himself, or he tried, or he didn’t. “Okay. They’re okay, okay, I’m—“

“Okay,” the villain finished for him, and even half sick in pain the hero could tell he was intentionally keeping his voice easy. “You’re okay. You’re going to be just fine, I promise.”

His hand shifted underneath the hero’s back.

“Breathe for me?” The hero tried, and managed a half wheeze. The villain just nodded. “Good. This is gonna suck.”

His other hand wormed its way underneath the hero’s knees. He blinked, trying to clear his blurry vision, and the villain stared at him. Barely disguised concern was written into every inch of him, like the only thing his bones could remember was panic. For him.

The villain was scared for him.

That was bad.

“What’s going to suck—“

The villain hauled him upwards, and his vision went white.

He woke up some time later, chest heavy and head floating somewhere above his body.

He hummed something that might have been a question, and the villain was above him in an instant.

“Are you in pain?”

The hero blinked at him for a moment. Mostly because he couldn’t really remember how to do anything else. The world felt sluggish. A second delayed behind normal. Which should have been concerning, panic worth and world ending, but it simply just…was.

“No,” he said finally, and his voice sounded weird. His throat ached, separated from him by a wall of warmth. “I was screaming?”

The villain swallowed, hard, and the hero managed to drag his gaze down to the needle and thread clutched in the villain’s hand.

“Yeah.” The villain sounded like he was choking on the words. “You were screaming.”

He opened his eyes whendidheclosethem and peered upwards again. He was on a couch. Or a bed? Bed, he decided a second later. The villain was kneeling next to him, and there was something soft tucked around his legs. He went to sit up, look down at his stomach; the villain’s hand came up to rest on his forehead, gently keeping him down. He must have made some noise of displeasure, because a moment later, the villain’s hand carded through his hair.

“Easy,” he murmured, focusing back onto the hero’s side. He heard the snip of thread; the sound of the villain throwing something onto a side table without care.

“What did you give me?” The hero’s tongue felt thick in his mouth.

“Lots,” the villain said.

“Lots,” he said back, managing to sound more incredulous than he actually cared to feel at the moment, and the villain snorted. “Haven’t heard of that one before.”

“Had to make something special for the boy wonder,” the villain smoothed a hand down his side, and the hero half leaned into it. Mostly he managed to sink further into the mattress. “You burn through shit fast, you know?”

The hero did know. He knew very well, unfortunately.

“Thanks,” he managed. His head lolled to the side without his permission, resting against the villain’s arm.

“You’re going to pass out again,” the villain informed him. He made a noise in the back of his throat that could have meant anything. The villain seemed to understand regardless.

Am not, he tried to say.

The haze of medication and blood loss stole him first.

The next time he woke, he was half sprawled against the villain’s side. Something cold was set onto his cheek, and he reached up to remove it, hand clumsy. The villain caught it before he managed to remove anything.

“You spiked a fever,” he said quietly. “I just got it back down. That’s probably why you woke up. How are you feeling?”

That was…a lot.

“No pain,” he said eventually. He thought he felt the villain give a heavy sigh of relief.

The world was clearing itself up bit by bit, settling the furniture back into the correct places until it no longer felt like things were sliding around him.

The villain’s hand was back into his hair again.

“Good,” the villain said, but the hero wasn’t really sure it was meant for him.

Something in his chest loosened.

“I thought I was going to die,” he admitted, and he wished his tongue was still numb, because the villain stilled, hand curled in his hair.

“That’s not what you told your friend.”

And yeah, the hero half remembered the pieces of that. A promise he was okay. Everything would be fine. He was always fine, wasn’t he? How strongly do you have to will to will someone to stay. Exactly how many pounds of force does it take to stop someone from bleeding out—

There was a chill curling itself around his ribs.

“I thought I was going to die,” his voice was raw. It wasn’t because of his throat. He sounded afraid, even to himself.

“I would never have let you do that,” he managed a moment later. His hand resumed in his hair.

And somehow, despite the knowledge of how hard it truly was to save someone, how long it took to learn that kind of information, the knowing of exactly what was survivable and what couldn’t be escaped, how strong you had to be to shift through rubble—the hero believed him.

“I know,” he said, because the villain had to know. That he believed him. That he would always believe him.

He melted into the villain’s side.

I trust you, I trust you, I trust you

The villain hummed, in that way of his that told him he understood exactly what the hero couldn’t vocalize.

“I’m your #1 speed dial?” He questioned after a moment.

The hero huffed a laugh.

“You’re my only speed dial.”

The villain froze.

And then he was shifting, pulling the hero closed to him. The villain tucked him close, chin settling onto the top of his head. The hero pressed his face into the hollow of the villain’s neck.

“I will always come,” he said, and this time, his voice was the one that was raw. “You call, and I will be there.”

He said it like it was easy. Like it was that simple.

Maybe it was.

Maybe for them it always had been.

A fondness he couldn’t put words too settled onto his shoulders.

He simply breathed into the villain’s neck, and the villain’s arms looped around him a bit tighter.

“You’re okay,” the villain said into his hair. Like he was confirming it.

“I’m okay.”

“You’re lucky you have super healing.”

“I’m lucky I have you.”

The villain laughed softly.

“Suck up.”

“And what? You gonna stop me?”

He could practically feel the eye roll. “Been trying for years. Hasn’t stuck.”

“Well, you had the perfect opportunity—“

The villain hushed him.

“Just. Shhh for a bit,” he said softly.

The hero, obediently, shhh’ed.

The villain’s hand ran through his hair again, and his eyes shuttered closed, settling further against the villain’s chest.

“Cheater,” he murmured, and the villain huffed a laugh, but didn’t deign a response.

And together, comfortably, curled around one another like two halves of a whole, they just breathed.

[smallangstdemon]

Day 6 of @aprilisthecruelestmonth - Overprotective