#drugged whumpee

[jordanstrophe]

tw: Drugged/paralyzed

Whumpee woke up slung over someone's shoulder, unable to move. It was dark, and all they could see was the forest floor shifting beneath someone else's feet.

They tried to squirm, but nothing happened. A small whimper escaped them as the person carrying suddenly stopped. Gently, they were laid on the ground, their back pressing against the cold earth. Whumpee could barely make out their features, whoever it was, they didn’t recognize them.

A gloved hand cupped Whumpee’s face, causing them to flinch.

The figure tisked, then rolled up Whumpee's sleeve and injected a syringe into their arm.

The moment the needle pierced their skin, Whumpee lost the ability to make another sound. The fleeting sensation they had almost regained in their fingers quickly faded. The figure patted Whumpee's cheek, smiling when no response came.

With a grunt, they lifted Whumpee back over their shoulder and continued deeper into the woods.

[whumpschild]

[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

[orangeduckweed]

TW: drugging

imagine your whumpee so pumped full of drugs that they can’t think anymore. their eyes are glossy and vacant. their existence reduced to a dull ache.

[hurtmyfavsthanks]

Dude I see so much of average drugged whumpee just being spacey and out of it, but I raise you, a drugged whumpee that’s happy. A whumpee dosed with a euphoria drug that has them wonderfully higher than a kite, laughing, looking at streaming shimmering hallucinations around them, blissfully relaxed and unaware that whumper is behind it

bonus points if whumper flees from wherever they’ve been hiding, leaving a happily drugged whumpee behind as a “present” for caretaker

(content warning: nudity, the vague references to non-con touching)

YES. YES. YES.

I ADORE happy little drugged out whumpees! And Caretaker finding them like that? Especially when it’s such a far cry from whumpee’s typical personality? I could explode.

It’s all about the dichotomy between their behavior and their situation. Anything would be more fitting. Helpless terror as they shiver in the corner, hiding from horrors only they can see. Numb listlessness because their body is overburdened by exhaustion. Those all make sense, they fit.

But joy? Near manic euphoria, a smile stretching across their pale and dirty face? They’re not screaming or crying, but laughing, a drunken giggle that bounces against cold walls.

I think there’s an extra layer of helplessness there that is absolutely amazing. They’ve been stripped of their freedom, their dignity, and even their ability to properly respond to their situation. They’re not even given the right to anger or sadness. They’re trapped in an unthinking joy, and they can’t even begin to understand why it’s a bad thing.

And left as a prize? Absolutely. I love the idea of Caretaker finding them like that, at their most vulnerable. Presented like a trophy. Wrapped in thin silk and rope too weak to bind them under normal conditions, bruises peppering otherwise bare skin.

It’s humiliating, it’s painful, but Whumpee has no awareness of that. They simply feel good, relaxed and peaceful in a way they haven’t been for months. They’re barely aware of the exposed state they’re in, too out of it to even feel shame. They can’t remember the mocking words Whumper spoke as they pushed the needle into Whumpee’s skin, can’t remember the sicking mix of fury and terror they felt in those first few minutes, laying there with nothing to do but wait for the drug to kick in. All that’s left in their head is pink, sparkling joy.

Finally, Caretaker arrives. Whumpee doesn’t register the look of horror on Caretaker’s face. They barely respond as they’re searched for injuries, barely respond to Caretaker’s presence at all. When they do respond, it’s with slow, slurred speech, the words incoherent and muddled with uncontrollable laughter.

It sends a chill up Caretaker’s spine. It’s a state they’d neve expect to find Whumpee in, a state Whumpee would never allow themselves to be found in. It's frightening, seeing Whumpee act so unlike themselves.

Knowing that Whumper was around them in this state makes Caretaker sick. Knowing that Whumper had them at their most vulnerable, was free to mock them, touch them, do anything, and Caretaker wasn’t there to stop it, makes them feel sick.

It makes them sick to think this is all part of some game to Whumper. It makes them sick to think that they’re playing along, that saving Whumpee is somehow part of Whumper’s plan. But there’s nothing else Caretaker can do.

Caretaker removes their coat and drapes it over Whumpee’s body. Carefully, they pick Whumpee up, not trusting them to walk in their state. Whumpee’s body is warm despite being left on the cold floor, skin flush as the drug works through their system. Whumpee’s shivering, though they don’t seem to notice that either.

Whumpee presses themselves into Caretaker’s chest, humming contently. Caretaker holds them close with trembling fingers, and swears to never let them go again.

[literarystarfish]

A Whumpee who refuses pain meds during recovery because of some trauma associated with it.

Did Whumper refuse to give them any, calling them weak and useless? An Whumper, of course, instilled in them that being weak and useless is the worst offense— that being so would lead to even more pain and punishment.

Did Whumper leave pain meds at arms reach at all times but if Whumpee ever even tried to reach for them they would be scolded/punished/beaten? Relief so close but only left to tease them of what they can’t have.

Were the meds Whumper gave them laced with something else? The after effects of the other drugs made it so the pain meds weren’t worth taking. Sure, they would make the physical pain go away, but then there was the:

-mental anguish of hallucinogens that lasted far longer than the pain meds and tormented their nightmares for weeks with the horrifying images the hallucinations created

-or the fast beating heart that felt like it might burst from their chest and the anxiety that came with it

-or the short term memory loss only to wake up later hurting worse and knowing Whumper did something else to them but they couldn’t remember what.

I love when a Whumpee forces themself to endure a painful situation and Caretaker knows it doesn’t have to be this way— they could be out of pain! If only they’d take the pills!— but because of whatever Whumper did, they refuse the pain meds.

It causes Caretaker stress. It causes Whumpee unnecessary pain.

It’s like the residual torment Whumper left behind in their mind could still hurt them even if Whumpee is safe now.

[lumpywhump]

tw: noncon drugging

a whumper that's drugs whumpee. They always feel so out of it and just... not like themself. And whumper prefers it that way. Whumper keeps telling whumpee about how nice they are like this, and how this is how they should always be, that everyone would prefer them like this, I mean who would rather whumpee being violent and aggressive over being chill and relaxed?

Especially if whumpee's friends/caretaker told whumpee to calm down over and over to the point we're whumpee can easily believe that they would prefer whumpee like this...

[sillyanchorcloud]

drugged whumpee, but whumper is soft and affectionate to them.

combing gently through Whumpee’s hair, while Whumpee lays on their lap.

bonus points: if caretaker walks in believing that they're saving whumpee only to find them laying on whumper lap.

[the-three-whumpeteers]

The whumpee was barely ever aware enough to fight back, a cocktail of drugs keeping their mind slow and their vision blurry, they’d long forgotten what the whumper even looked like. The whumpee would only ever be conscious enough to feel the agony of something stabbing into them or searing their flesh, but they could barely even move.

[entity56]

[Trying a new whump trope, requested a while ago by @whumperofworlds]

Whumpee's ears ring as they slowly come to. Their head lulls forward; their body too heavy to move, Whumpee realizes, the only thing keeping them from falling over is the rope typing them to the tree behind them. They only figure out that their legs are tucked uncomfortably beneath them when the pins and needles start, crawling from their feet up their calves.

What happened? What... how did they get here? Okay... just a few minutes ago, they were coming back from their trip to the bathroom... And... and--

"Hey..."

Startled, Whumpee would have lifted their head to see who was talking to them, but their head felt like lead. All they can manage is looking out of the corner of their eye at the culprit's legs, then their face as they crouch down.

Caretaker.

They feel their heart stop as Caretaker smiles and cups their cheek, turning their head gently towards them. Caretaker's voice, once warm and sweet, now curdles Whumpee's blood as they begin to speak.

"I'm sorry it's come to this, Whumpee," Caretaker says, in that same gentle tone of voice they'd used hundreds of times before to comfort them after a nightmare. "You understand, right?"

Whumpee tries to speak, but with their tongue so numb from whatever Caretaker had injected them with, it may as well have been a river stone. Instead, Whumpee whimpers, eliciting a pitiful head tilt from the person that had rescued them a year ago.

"For what it's worth," they say, caressing their thumb over Whumpee's cheek, "you're playing a very important part in tracking down Whumper. We've implanted a tracking chip into your arm, Whumpee."

Caretaker sits down next to them, leaning in and wrapping them in a hug. Their hand caresses the back of Whumpee's head, fingers playing with a lock of their hair, just like before. Whumpee wanted nothing more than to rip away.

"Ultimately," they say softly, "that's always been our goal. To find them, right? But I knew you'd never agree to this. So... here you are. I..."

Whumpee's eyes well up as Caretaker trails off and pulls away, once more cupping their face and studying their expression. Whumpee manages to shake their head. "I know, I know," Caretaker tries to soothe. "It won't be for long. This is the last resort. We... we sent Whumper your location. You just need to hang on while we track you down, okay?"

Whumpee looks away, and Caretaker sighs, getting back to their feet.

"See you in a couple weeks, Whumpee," they bid, walking away without another word.

[whumpbees]

Drugged whumpees my BELOVED. All dizzy and out of it, leaning against whumper for support. Looking at Whumper with hazy-eyed fear, their words slurred when they ask what whumper's done to them <3

[echoingalaxies]

Whumpee has been given some kind of drug (or is under a curse) that heightens their senses by a lot, to the point touching anything or moving will cause them unbearable pain. They're in agony even by the mattress they're lying on.

But Whumpee's friends don't know this - all they know is they're in pain and don't know what it is or how to help. So they stroke Whumpee's cheek, hold their hand, rub their back, trying to provide comfort. They don't know if Whumpee could speak, they'd be pleading for them to stop because every touch, no matter how light, feels like a blowtorch on their skin.

[whumpetywhumpwhump]

Been recently getting into drugged whumpees- maybe someone at the bar slipped something into their drink without their knowledge, and by the time caretaker comes to their aid, Whumpee is out of it.

Their eyes are half open but glazed over, pupils unreactive to light or any other stimuli. Still, Caretaker can see the dulled terror hidden beneath, made even more disturbing by the fact that Whumpee can't express the depth of their fear.

If Caretaker has to pick them up, they're floppy. If Caretaker listens to their breaths, they're unnaturally slow and shallow.

And if Whumpee feels sick enough to vomit, they can't even tell Caretaker. They just have to hope that Caretaker has the foresight to turn them onto their side when it inevitably happens.

[whumblr]

"Oh. You're not supposed to be awake yet."

Horrible to hear when:

Waking groggily in the back of a car and a needle or rag of chloroform enters their line of sight and sure, they may be conscious but not awake enough to stop any of it.

Absolutely terrifying to hear when:

Waking on a metal table, limbs strapped down, leather strap over their torso, bloodstained instruments next to them. Familiar cruel eyes glancing up over a mask, making eye contact.

"Give them another dose."

[kabie-whump]

‪‪‪♡‬Febuwhump 2025 Day 1: Vocal Chords ♡

Content: hospital setting, torture aftermath

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

"Hey, Caretaker, listen."

Caretaker stops, turning back to face Leader. They have no idea what they could have to tell them that's more important than the matter at hand. Whumpee is back. Safe in the infirmary after being missing for a week. Caretaker doesn't want to spend another second doing anything but hovering by their bedside, listening to that 24/7 jabbering that used to be irritating but God, it's been so quiet without them and Caretaker just wants to hear that voice again.

But they can't just ignore Leader, so...

"I'm listening."

"Whumpee... They had a hard week, alright? They're going to be a little different. Just don't push them too hard."

That's it? Whumpee was kidnapped by Villian. Caretaker could have guessed that it's been more than just a hard week, thank you.

"I understand."

Leader's gaze searches Caretaker's face for a moment before they sigh and wave a hand, dismissing them.

The walk to the infirmary is a blur, and Caretaker is panting by the time they arrive, having been unknowingly jogging the whole way.

Whumpee has a bed in a little private room, away from the prying eyes of others in the facility. Medic is there, injecting something into an IV. Their eyes crinkle around the corners when Caretaker enters, and Caretaker imagines that under that pale blue mask they're giving a sympathetic smile.

"Whumpee's going to be fine," Medic assures them before they can open their mouth. "They're on a lot of medicine right now, so they're going to seem pretty out of it, but they're okay. Breathe."

Caretaker releases the breath they hadn't realized they'd been holding. "Thank you, Medic."

"Any time. I'll give you two some privacy." Medic moves to leave, then pauses when they're right next to Caretaker and leans in close, their voice quiet. "Don't press them to talk, okay? Their vocal chords took a lot of damage."

Caretaker's heart jumps in their chest, a frantic, fluttery sort of feelig. "How? What happened?"

Medic just sighs, pats Caretaker on the shoulder, and leaves.

Caretaker turns their attention to the bed then, taking in the sight of Whumpee laying there, washed out in the whites and blues of the linens. Whumpee's skin is pale, dark bruises peeking out from under their paper gown. One arm is in a cast, the other tangled in a maze of tubes and wires. Their head lolls back against the thin pillows, eyes half closed.

Caretaker half expects some kind of grizzly damage to their neck, some kind of indication of what Medic had been referring to. But no, aside from some suspiciously hand-shaped bruises Whumpee's neck is fine. No cast, no stitches, nothing.

They probably screamed themselves mute, Caretaker's brain supplied helpfully.

Caretaker took one deep breath, steeling themselves, then approched Whumpee's bedside.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

@febuwhump

[hurtmyfavsthanks]

I love reading kidnapping whump. However, the thing I really enjoy is reading the process of being kidnapped. Like, I enjoy the chase just before whumpee gets dragged away.

I really dislike when the story doesn’t describe how the whumpee gets captured or even “whumpee felt a prick and felt their eyes close”. I feel like a good kidnapping story needs to make my heart sink.. I guess I just like the juicy details 🥰🥰

Just something I wanted to share. Haha

Yes! YES! Honestly all whump is in the details; you just gotta find people that appreciate the same details as you. I 100000% agree that the process of kidnapping is overlooked all too often. 

We need more whumpers that are sadistic during the kidnapping, not just afterwards. Whumpers that like the chase and the power trip that comes with catching whumpee, not just owning them. 

They could make it quick. Stick them with something fast acting, manhandle them into place while the drug kicks in. They'd be done in minutes, no fuss or issue. 

 But what would be the fun in that?

So they don’t. When they finally get ahold on Whumpee, easily pinning their flailing limbs to the side, Whumper only injects them with a half dose. Not enough for them to escape, mind you, but enough for them to think they have a chance.

And then Whumper let’s go. And then they watch.

What does Whumpee do? From the moment the needle enters their body, they’re on a timer. Every beat of their terrified heart is bringing them closer to oblivion, makes the distance between danger and safety seem so much wider. There's nobody to help them, nobody in sight but their attacker. What can they do?

Does Whumpee try to fight back? 

They send an elbow back into Whumper as soon as the arms around them give way, whirling around with angry, terrified eyes. Fear sends their heart pounding as their gaze locks onto Whumper. They see those cunning eyes and lean muscles, see the shine of something metallic in their attacker’s hand.

Wumpee sees the emptiness around them, both vast yet horrible claustrophobic. There’s nowhere to run.

They’re terrified, they’re helpless. And in that moment, anger worms its way into Whumpee’s heart. It’s fueled by panic, a sort of prey rage bred from true helplessness, but it’s enough to spring Whumpee into action. In that moment, they realize the only way out is through Whumper. 

So they rush forward, lashing out like a cornered animal. There’s nothing graceful about their attacks. Each push does more damage to themselves than their target, most kicks don’t even land at all. Every swing is a flailing, pathetic thing, fueled by nothing but blind panic. 

And Whumper isn’t even fighting back. They block each blow with expert precision, not even bothering to restrain Whumpee’s movements. Whumpee’s putting everything, everything into their struggle, and Whumper isn’t even breaking a sweat. There’s no sign of effort or strain in Whumper’s movements, none of the desperate urgency Whumpee feels. There’s only that grin on Whumper’s face, cruel and mocking, like they’re enjoying it

A scream tears its way from Whumpee's throat. It’s full of frustration and terror,  a high pitched whine that comes out like a half sob. They keep fighting, trying to knock down the unmovable wall in front of them. 

But Whumpee can’t keep it up forever. They’re slowing by the second; with each beat of their heart, the sedative is spreading throughout their bloodstream. Each swing is weaker than the last, sloppier. They’re swaying on their feet within minutes, barely standing against the growing static in their mind. They can’t stop the world from tilting around them.

It only sends another wave of terror through Whumpee. They keep pushing. 

But terror can only take them so far. Whumpee’s heart freezes in their chest as Whumper effortlessly grabs one of their weakly swinging fits. They don’t let go. Whumpee pulls, and they don’t let go. They kick and whine, too exhausted to even properly scream, and Whumper’s hold stays firm. Each effort to escape only sends another wave of unnatural exhaustion through their body. 

The sensation of the drug working into their system is suffocating. It forces their pounding heart to slow, smothering their terror under a thick haze, sapping the energy from their limbs. The fear is still there, still overwhelming, but they just can’t react to it anymore. 

Swaying on their feet, all they can do is stare into the triumphant, predatory eyes of their captor.

Finally, they drop. Whumpee’s body tilts forward without their control, slumping into Whumper’s chest. They're caught effortlessly as their legs finally give out, pulled into a half-hug as Whumper supports their weight. Everything in Whumpee tells them to pull away, to bite or scream or anything. But they can't force their body to respond. But they can't form a plan, can't think beyond the haze clouding their mind.

The last thing Whumpee feels as their vision fades is their body being lifted into someone's arms.  They don't have the strength left to fight it.

Or maybe Whumpee runs?

They push away from Whumper the moment they’re free, taking a stumbling step away from their attacker. Before terror can kick in, there’s only surprise, maybe even anger. They turn to face Whumper on instinct, some angry rebuke already on their lips. 

Whatever they’d been about to say died in their throat the moment they look back. Whumper is simply standing there, as if they were waiting for something. There is no explanation in their expression. Not the anger of some scorned lover, not the frustration of a failed mugging. Whumper just stands there. Eyes sharp, eyes focused squarely on Whumpee, ready to strike at any moment. 

There’s something inhuman about it, about the absence if all expression but an animalistic intensity. It calls to something animalistic in Whumpee as well. Something that screams that Whumpee is staring down a predator ready to eat them whole. 

Terror comes to Whumpee slowly, like a pressure laying itself against their chest. As their expression morphs into terror, a grin splits Whumper’s face.

Whumpee’s running before they even realize it. Shoes slamming against the sidewalk, heart pounding in their chest in their mad dash to just get away. They don’t know where they’ll go, don’t know where they’d be safe. But anywhere, anywhere is better than with that monster. 

Their escape is graceless. They run half blind in the darkness, stumbling over obstacles in their mad dash. Tears are streaming from their wide eyes, mouth wide as they pull in desperate lungfuls of air. 

They can’t hear anything beyond their own ragged breathing. They don’t dare slow down, don’t dare turn around. They don’t know if they’d managed to escape or not, and so they keep running. 

The first wave of dizziness hits them like a truck, nearly sending them tumbling to the ground. It feels like the ground is shifting underneath them, tilting side to side like a boat in the ocean. 

They stop, not because they want to, but because they have to if they want to stay upright. Whumpee leans against the nearest wall, taking deep, shuddering breaths in hopes of chasing away the disorientation. 

It doesn’t help. With each inhale, it feels like their vision is growing dimmer, their body growing heavier. It’s not long until Whumpee is resting their full weight against the wall, barely remaining upright. Their attempts to collect their thoughts crumble as their mind wanders. Each wave of dizziness breaks their concentration, and it’s becoming harder by the moment to recollect themselves.

They’re exhausted. It creeps into them like a chill, and now that they’ve stopped moving the feeling is near overwhelming. 

Panic still flows through their mind, demanding that they move. But their body won’t listen. Whumpee’s limbs won’t move despite their fear. Their heartbeat has slowed despite their terror, a relaxed, sedated beating in their chest instead of the panicked drumming from moments before. Whumpee can feel their eyes closing without their consent, and it terrifies them. 

Whumpee can’t stop themselves as their legs give out on them. They fall like dead weight, head smacking against the sidewalk. All they can do is groan, a low pathetic keening that barely manages to creep past their lips. 

The pain is just enough to bring a spark of alertness back to their eyes. Just enough to bring back the memory of their attacker. The look in their eye, the expression that gave away no motivation but malice. The gleeful smile full of a hunger Whumpee couldn’t explain. 

The glint of something sharp and metallic on Whumper’s hands. The sharp pain in Whumpee’s neck seconds before they managed to pull away. 

The revelation makes Whumpee’s throat go dry. And suddenly that pain is the only thing they can feel, a pulsing ache from where they’d been stabbed. No, injected. They’d been drugged, and it’d taken them this long to realize it. 

In that moment, as Whumpee’s eyes finally slip shut, the faintest of smiles crosses their lips. It’s mirthless, almost angry. The broken smile of someone who's just realized all their effort was utterly pointless.

Whumpee’s not awake to hear the sound of even, confident footsteps approaching them. 

It doesn’t really matter what they do. Stay and fight, run and hide, it’s futile.

And that’s the point. The point is the struggle, the desperation that can only exist when there’s a sliver of hope left. Even when that hope is an illusion, even when that hope only exists to be mercilessly crushed.