#egotistical whumpee

[hurt-and-comfort-me-please]

We need more vain/egotistical whumpees, please

Whumpees who won't allow anyone to see them cry, no matter how much they need the support, they can't take any more blows to their ego

Whumpees who refuse pain medication because they think it makes them look weak

Whumpees who act mean or cold to those who try to help them because it's the only thing that keeps others away from them

Whumpees that are encouraged to ask for help, but think that others would be impressed if they didn't ever need it

Whumpees that cannot, under any circumstance, allow others to know what has happened to them, even if it allows Whumper to get away with it, because what would the others think of me if they knew how weak and helpless I was? Or that it actually left a lasting impact on me?

Whumpees who obsessively cover up their scars with makeup

Whumpees who isolate themselves whenever the people around them get too 'invasive' by asking basic questions about Whumpee's mental state

Whumpees who are offended at the mere mention that they may have actually been traumatized, because they're too strong/tough/resilient for anything to actually affect them, and claiming anything else amounts to a personal insult

Whumpees who will not tell anyone if they're sick or injured because they don't want anyone to see them hurting, until they collapse and have to be dragged to a doctor

Whumpees who think that they're better than others because they were strong enough to survive nevermind the debilitating trauma

[the-three-whumpeteers]

The whumper didn’t want the whumpee to have any kind of authority- they were cruel, egotistical, and fond of abusing their power. The whumpee was furious when they were caught, and since they were used to being in charge, they expected to be let go as soon as they ordered it. The whumper wanted to rip the whumpee’s ego apart, and they were going to have fun torturing and breaking them down.

[idek-anymore-what-the-heck]

Whumpril Prompt #19

“I Need You”

TW: implied torture, implied brainwashing, hospitalization, jail

Caretaker paced back and forth in front of Whumpers cell. They had finally been caught, they had finally found whumpee, and all was well.

But, unfortunately, all was not well.

Whumper was not guilty with what they did. They were smug and egotistical and none of it made sense. Why would whumper be glad they were caught? They’re just going to live their life in prison. Caretaker was befuddled.

They walked toward the room whumpee was being treated in. Whumpee had not had a good time. Once caretaker and their team had found them, they were nearly dead from hypothermia and blood loss, not to mention the plentiful other injuries just waiting to be revealed. But caretaker was most worried about the internal injuries; the mental ones.

Whumpee hadn’t woken up since they had been found, but when caretaker walked in, their eyes were open.

“Hey, whumpee. How’s it going?” Caretaker asked as gentle as they could. Whumpees eyes were darting around the room quickly, trying to sort things out in their mind.

The words came out in a rush. “Where am I? Who are you? Where’s whumper? What are you doing to me?”

“Whoa, whoa. Slow down there, whumpee. You’re in the hospital, you were pretty sick.” Caretaker answered. “I’m caretaker- you know me. Whumper is in the hospital cells waiting to be taken to real prison. We are just trying to help you.”

Whumpees eyes were still frantic, and their voice was rising. “What do you mean ‘i know you’? I’ve never met you. Where’s whumper? Why are they in a cell? Let me see them!”

Caretaker took a few small steps towards whumpee. “It’s alright, you don’t remember what happened. We can help you.”

Whumpee was shrieking now. “No, I don’t know who you are! Let me see whumper! Where are they? Take me to them!!”

“Ok, ok. It’s alright. We’ll take you to whumper.” Caretaker assured. This is a terrible idea.

Caretaker helps whumpee into a wheelchair and pushes them down the hall to the hospital cells. The bars were spaced evenly apart, and whumper was sitting on a cot with their head in their hands. At the sound of the wheelchair, they looked up.

Their face split into a grin when they saw whumpee. “Whumpee, I was so worried! Are you ok? What did they do to you?” They rushed to the bars.

“I’m ok whumper, they haven’t done anything yet,” whumpee said. Caretaker did not like the casual way they were taking. What was happening? They also didn’t like how they said ‘yet’.

“Why are you in jail?” Whumpee continued. “You haven’t done anything wrong. Can you come out?” They turned to caretaker. “Can they come out?”

Caretaker shook their head. “No, they can’t come out. They are too dangerous.”

Whumpee looked distressed. “Please? Or, can I at least go in to talk to them?”

What was going on? Whumper tortured whumpee for months, and now whumpee wanted to go into the only thing separating them to talk? No way.

“I’m sorry whumpee, i cant let you." caretaker tried to calm them down.

"hey." whumper said from behind the bars. "its ok. you don’t have to worry about me."

whumpee leaned forward and touched their hands on the bars.

"but i need you"

[whumpshaped]

whumpee who's loud. prideful. egotistical. always going on and on about how great they are. how they're better and faster and stronger than anybody else. how they're the best suited for the job, how they're doing amazing at everything on the first try, how everything is so easy and they're so good at it.

everybody is annoyed. everybody is hellbent on knocking them down a peg. and truthfully? it's not that hard to do. whumpee is... quite average. but whenever the others point something out, whumpee acts totally delusional or makes up an excuse. it's infuriating.

caretaker is whumpee's only friend. their childhood friend. they seem to have a dynamic no one understands: caretaker seems genuinely loving and fond of whumpee half the time, but kind of bitter, resentful and angry the other half. whumpee's not even exceptionally nice to caretaker, not enough to warrant them sticking around for so long... and yet, well, it seems to work for them.

in truth, both whumpee and caretaker had a rough time growing up. they were both required to be the best at everything. anything less was a failure, anything less meant losing the fickle warmth of the home. they both put in the work, but only whumpee managed a part-time success.

whumpee was the best at some things, allowing them to experience some sort of acknowledgment and praise. it wasn't a lot, but it was enough to be the carrot on the stick, a high whumpee never learned to stop chasing. when the fountain of success dried up and it became obvious that they were woefully average, or at least something was standing in the way of them living up to the expectation, whumpee continued coping the only way they learned how: loudly exclaiming they were the best, hoping that if they repeated it enough it'd become true, get back to their family, and earn them love. they lie and lie and lie and tell everyone of how great they are even when they know it just makes them unlikeable, even when they know it's not true, even when they know it's so horribly easy to humble them. they lie and say it anyway because if they can't offer being the best, then what can they offer? and they used to be the best, once. they can be the best again. they can be loved again.

caretaker never met the expectations. they grew up jealous and resentful, they grew up angry and feeling slighted. they grew up rebellious, because their imperfect existence in itself was considered an act of defiance, so what difference would it make if they swung in the other direction? of course they longed for approval, but they never had it, they never lost it. most importantly, they saw what losing that approval and placing all their self-worth on being successful had done to whumpee. jealousy still plagues them from time to time, but what they feel is mostly pity nowadays. pity and utter rage towards the people who made both of them this way.

of course caretaker yells at whumpee every now and then. they're so much further ahead in their journey of trying to untangle self-worth from unattainable perfection, even if not by choice. even if their childhood dreams were violently shattered, it ended up serving them in the long run. but now they have to watch whumpee be stuck in that mindset they'd left behind decades ago, and it feels like dealing with a child, it feels like dealing with their own younger self, and it's impossible not to grab whumpee by the shoulders and shake them.

but at the end of the day, that bond won't be broken. they've gone through too much together not to have unending compassion for one another.

[whumpers-inc]

Whumper Reviews

imagine like a place where whumpees could leave reviews for whumpers like:

"Absolutely terrible experience. This whumper lacked the necessary skills and creativity to deliver a decent torture session. They repeatedly fumbled weapons, their restraint system was pathetic and even their poison was only half strength. Save yourself the hassle and get tortured elsewhere." ★★

"My go-to whumper! Professional, evil and charming with a wide range of niche torture knowledge that they're more than happy to try out on you! ★★★★

"This whumper was not only rude but also extremely egotistical. They monologued for hours on end, completely neglecting me, as they warbled about their upcoming plans. This did provide me with an escape opportunity though so that was good." ★★★

"I can't say enough good things about this whumper. From the moment I was lured into the car, whumper made me feel like a valued hostage. They demonstrated incredible expertise and creativity, during our torture sessions, using a huge variety of weapons and restraints. They even cut off a finger! The basement itself had a chilly, gloomy atmosphere, making the whole experience even more terrifying." ★★★★★

" They refused to increase my ransom. " ★

[seth-whumps]

whumpee of the week: singer whumpee.

pretty little bard with the voice of an angel. a sweetheart at first, an egotistical little bastard, their heart on a stage, born for the performance.

when they break, they scream. that holy voice becomes scratched and horrifically torn, until it cannot make a sound. all that lack of humility breaks down into dust. they can't look whumper in the eyes anymore.

"sing for me," whumper croons. "give me your little performance. show me. come on, let me hear you scream..."

and no spotlight, no stage fright, nothing compares to the terror of feeling whumper's eyes on them.

after they're done, they never want to be seen again.

[hurtmyfavsthanks]

Febuwhump day 15: Self-sacrifice

Villain couldn’t help but stare.“They really did a number on you, huh?”

They team had looked for Whumpee for months. They’d hacked into every database of captured heroes, interrogated any villain who’d had a chance of knowing. They’d waited for the heroes to brag about Whumpee’s defeat, to stupidly flaunt their victory on air so Whumpee’s allies could break them out. But there had been nothing.

But now they were back, stood just feet away from their group headquarters like they’d never left. They were thinner now, already thin body now skirting on the edge of underweight. Their hair, which they once almost obsessively tended to, was now shorn. They were dressed in a nondescript black uniform and, most concerningly, they were wearing a collar.

Whumpee scowled, powers flashing as they walked closer. “Move. I won’t ask again.”

Villain suddenly remembered just how powerful Whumpee was.  Still, they feigned indifference, leaning casually against the wall. “Uh. No, actually, I don’t think I will. What’s with the new outfit? Did you run off to switch sides?”

Whumpee didn’t respond, and Villain didn’t need them to. The collar was tight against their skin, the skin visible underneath littered with bruises. The bags underneath their eyes spoke of days without sleep. They looked like they’d just escaped from torture. Or, as Villain guessed, been let out with orders. 

“You don’t have to do this,” Villain let their voice soften, allowing their indifference to bleed away into genuine concern. “Whatever they’ve got on you, we can fix it. We’ll get that collar off.”

Whumpee recoiled like they’d been hit. “No–! I can’t take it off. I have to do this! Just–get out of my way!” They clutched the collar like a lifeline, eyes wide.

“Can’t do that, sorry bud.” And it was true, Villain couldn’t let Whumpee in, not when they were clearly compromised. Who knows what the heroes would have them do? From the manic look in Whumpee’s eyes, from the flashing at their hands, Villian knew whatever it was wasn’t pretty. No, Villain wouldn’t let the heroes use Whumpee as a tool to kill their allies, their friends. “So what now?”

Whumpee’s composure was all but gone. They looked furious, they looked terrified. “I–I’ll make you move! I can kill you! I can kill you and they’ll let it happen because you’re nothing!” 

Whumpee could kill them easily, Villain wasn’t egotistical enough to think otherwise. They knew the smart thing to do would be to run, cut their losses and let the heroes play their games. Let the world think this was just another instance of villains turning against one another. 

But they couldn’t do that. They wouldn’t let Whumpee live with that guilt, wouldn’t let those smug bastards get away with killing while keeping their hands clean. So, they’d have to make this flashy. Something that the others couldn’t ignore, something that would set off the alarms and let their team escape. 

Well, there were worse ways to die. 

“Fine, let’s do this.”

[thewhumpcaretaker]

From the ask game you posted a while back:

🪩 - what's your favorite type of Caretaker?

🧠 - What's your favorite type of whumper?

💧 - What's your favorite type of whumpee?

🪩 - what's your favorite type of Caretaker?

Vengeful Caretaker is my absolute favorite! I like a Caretaker that’s gentle to whumpee, but completely unhinged with everyone else. Ultra-protective and dominant. And I like for this character to be a love interest. Caretaker x whumpee forever!

🧠 - What's your favorite type of whumper?

The crueler a whumper is, the easier it is to enjoy their eventual downfall. So I like a genuinely evil and remorseless whumper, who won’t hesitate to use every form of abuse. Intimate/creepy whumper is especially fun to hate for me personally.

💧 - What's your favorite type of whumpee?

I like a whumpee who’s stoic, egotistical, or prideful - especially if they’re also a human weapon. Someone who, for one reason or another, has trouble accepting help. They’ve internalized whumper’s abuse - but not in a conditioning way, more in a moody, self-loathing way. They blame themself for the things whumper has forced them to do. But underneath that, they’re also utterly desperate. Desperate for salvation. Desperate for revenge. Desperate for love. Caretaker is going to help them admit that.

Thank you so much for this ask!! 💖

Ask Game

[the11tailedwrites]

Day 15-16 | Muffled Screams

@hidden-scarlet-whispers

tw: whimper getting turned on by hurting whumpee.

|

Sival wouldn’t let him scream. Osiris assumed it was to not bother the other Iron Lords. They were busy. They didn’t need any distractions like torture training to throw them off.

But Osiris no longer thought of this as training. This was just flat out torture. He knew Lord Sival loved hurting people. Saw it in the way he smiled as he cut the knife across Osiris’ chest. Saw it in the way his pants bulged when Osiris screamed. Osiris had never met someone so turned on by torturing someone else.

Osiris screamed again as pain rocketed up his body as the poison made its slow and painful crawl up his body. Restrained as he was, Osiris was not capable of freeing himself, only thrashing helplessly and screaming.

He felt like he was burning, like every crawling inch of that poison was slowly pushing lava through his veins.

His face itched.

His eyes watered.

He wanted this to stop.

His begging only made it worse.

He didn’t know how to make Lord Sival stop.

He wanted Lord Felwinter.

He wanted Saint.

No…truthfully? He wanted to die. The pain would stop then. There would be no more pain. He’d be free!

But to die, he’d have to kill Sagira. He couldn’t do that, of course. Sagira was his heart. His soul. He was nothing without her or her light. Just a selfish egotistical old man with crazy visions of the future. People only acknowledge his existence because Sagira gifted him the light. Without the light, everyone would leave.

So he just had to power through, that was all he had to do.

Just power through.

He didn’t truly realize the pain was gone until Sagira pressed her face against his cheek.

He blinked slowly, unsure as to what was going on or where he was.

”Osiris, you’re okay, Lord Sival was called to a meeting and had to leave. Let’s go while he’s gone,” whispered Sagira, “He didn’t say anything about you having to stay put,”

Osiris nodded weakly and forced himself up, bands pulling free thanks to Sagira’s restoration of his strength. He soundlessly pulled the gag out and staggered off the operating table and made a beeline for his room.

He just had to make it to his room.

He pushed against the door to his room and slammed it shut behind him, making sure to lock the door tightly behind him before collapsing onto his bed and losing consciousness instantly.

He would awaken later to find he missed dinner, but Lord Felwinter had left him a small plate of food.

He didn’t eat it.

He wasn’t hungry.

[whump-me-all-night-long]

whumpee who used to be very egotistical and vain becomes insecure and self-deprecating after whumper gets ahold of them

"Whumpee?" Caretaker called softly, gently knocking on the bedroom door before cracking it open.

A head popped up in the dark. "Yeah?" they replied, barely a whisper.

Caretaker stepped further in, the door spilling light inside the room. "I wanted to check on you. How are you doing?"

Whumpee flinched back from the light, curling back up and dropping their head. "Fine," they muttered.

Caretaker took another ste but stopped when they saw Whumpee scoot away. They glanced around the bedroom, eyes landing on the broken mirror, making them frown. "What happened?" they asked.

A small shrug. "I hate- hate how I look now. I'm ruined."

Caretaker sighed. "No, you're not, Whumpee," they soothed. "You're healing."

Whumpee let out a humorless laugh. "No, I'm ugly and ruined and broken, alright. Can't even look at my own reflection anymore." They began spiraling, muttering under their breath, rocking slightly.

Caretaker sighed, moving away from them. They'd try again tomorrow.

[the-three-whumpeteers]

Nobody expected the caretaker to…well, care, usually they were egotistical and only thought about themselves, so everyone is surprised when the caretaker out of everyone steps up to take care of the whumpee. Everyone keeps an eye on them both, since sure the caretaker wanted to help, but surely they didn’t know how- but they’re proven wrong again, since the caretaker is actually really good at comforting and getting the whumpee the care they need. The theory that goes around is that maybe the caretaker knew the whumpee, when in reality the caretaker had gone through just about the same thing as the whumpee, and their attitude had been the only way to protect themselves before.

[whumprincess]

Dark Timeline: Burnt Sugar

Word Count: 2361 words

CW: Lady/Female Whumpee, Catgirl Whumpee, Cruel Whumper, Fantasy Whump, Dehumanization, Healing, Branding, Slapping, Swearing, Corrupted Friend, Reference to previous torture (declawing)

The moment Sugar’s hands were freed from her shackles, Eri’s fingers were already firmly wrapped around her frail wrist. 

“LET GO OF ME!” Her voice was shrill as she wildly tried to pull away from her captor, but it was to no avail. He was several feet taller than her, not to mention much stronger. There was a time when she could have bested him using her claws and magic, however even in his arrogance, the king knew this. All it took was for her to land one scratch on his pretty cheek during her capture for him to call for her declawing. After that an anti-magic collar was locked around her neck, effectively taking away her last form of defense. She felt weak, but she would be damned if she just let him do what he wanted!    

Eri’s gaze remained fixed ahead of him as he simply tightened his grasp and jerked the tabaxi along behind him. Each step he took lead them closer to a table on the other side of the dungeon. When he was close enough, he threw her onto the floor with an annoyed huff. He knew better than to under-estimate her agility and gingerly began securing straps around her wrists. This girl didn’t know what was good for her. If she just behaved he wouldn’t be pushed to such extreme measures. Even now, knowing resisting him was futile she continued to defy him. He wished she would use common sense and obey, but part of him knew that was optimistic. After all, even when they travelled together as adventurers, she always did act like a dumb animal.

“You bring this on yourself.” He stated coldly before standing up straight.

She clumsily failed to catch herself on her mutilated hands as she was tossed against the concrete. The impact aggravated her countless other injuries causing her to let out a sharp hiss. She attempted to scramble to her feet, but by then she was already fastened in place, forcing her to maintain her position on her knees.

“Fuck you, Eri-!” She was cut off by a harsh backhand.

“It’s been months and you still haven’t learned to call me Your Majesty.”

“Because that’s stupid!” Another slap on the same cheek and she could already feel the tender beginnings of a bruise.

“You haven’t learned your place…” He slowly started to make his way towards a nearby fireplace.

Her eyes widened when she noticed he wasn’t reaching for the fire poker, his usual weapon of choice.

“I’ve been too lenient with you.” His red eyes burned with malice as he held up a brand. “I’ve let you think you’re human for too long…” He set the rod down on the floor, ensuring the tip was resting in the flames, before making his way back over to the half-feline. “You really were always more like a pet…” He gave her long, snow-white hair a slow, deliberate stroke before crouching down and flicking the bell hanging off her collar, “…right down to always wearing bells all the time.”

“SHUT UP!” Her fangs snapped at Eri’s fingers, but he pulled away just in time. The other side of her face pricked as she sustained yet another smack.  

“Keep that up and I won’t let you speak at all.”

Sugar’s heart skipped a beat at the threat. For about the first month of her imprisonment she was forced to wear a gag to prevent her from spellcasting. As humiliating as her collar was, the day she received it was also the day she was permitted to speak freely again. Everything about this Eri was unfair! Back when they were in the same party, he might’ve been egotistical and pompous, but not cruel… never cruel!

“Come on Eri, this isn’t you!” She tried to appeal to her friend, but he was nowhere to be found as he turned his back to her.

“Of course it’s me!” He violently seized the prepared brand and stomped his way back to the pathetic girl. He held the scorching hot metal just above her right hand, delaying the agony. He couldn’t help but derive satisfaction from the way her entire body writhed to move away from him; the way she uselessly pulled back her wrists over and over again, serving nothing other than to make them raw and red against her restraints; the way her mismatched blue and grey eyes begged him for mercy without a hint of defiance. Yes, this was how it was meant to be, he was certain of it. He was superior to her in every way and if she was capable of this level of fear he could train her to never leave his side. “And this is you.”

A mangled screech escaped Sugar’s throat as her entire body began to convulse. The tears she had tried to hold back spilled onto her face, stinging her already sore cheeks. She was reduced to a wreck of incomprehensible sobs as she tried to withdraw her abused hand, only managing to burn a different area.

“Tsk, that won’t do.” Eri lifted the metal off her skin and leaned down to inspect the now imperfect feather design. “You’ve ruined it, what do you have to say for yourself?” He stared at her severely, but it was no use. She was too caught up in the pain to even hear him. “Inexcusable.” He exhaled before putting his hand on top of her burned one.

In an instant, there was a cool, soothing sensation washing over her singed skin. Her tears turned from ones of pain to those of relief as she opened her eyes to look at Eri. She gave him a small, hopeful smile; thankful that he returned to his senses.

“I said, what do you have to say for yourself?”

“H-Huh?”

“The brand, you ruined it.”

“I… W-what?” She looked down to her hand, noticing that the mark had vanished. “I-It’s…”

“Yes, I’ve removed it because you refused to stay still.”

“I- I don’t get it…”

Eri sighed before grabbing the brand again and bringing it back to the fireplace to reheat. “Of course you don’t, you stupid cat.” He tapped his boot impatiently, “You do realize it needs to be perfect, don’t you?”

She blinked in confusion before frantically shaking her head, “N-No! I-I don’t need it at all!”

“Of course you do!” he growled. “How else will you remember you’re my pet?”

“Eri, that’s crazy!”

Outraged by her continued insubordination, he hastily returned the reignited brand to her flesh. Her screams echoed throughout the chamber as he pressed the metal down firmer than before. Even amidst her struggling her hand was pinned to the table; he would not permit her to spoil his handiwork again. This time he was irritated with all her racket, she always had to make so much damn noise. There was no way she wasn’t over-reacting, of course she wanted to make him feel guilty for doing what’s necessary, when it should be her apologizing for making everything so difficult!

Recklessly he tossed aside the brand in order to appraise his results. He roughly grabbed her hand and turned it in all directions, “This one’s crooked!”

The explosion of heat that was reintroduced to her hand was worse than before as it was compounded with the crushing pressure of unrelenting iron. She choked on her own tears, unable to voice any of the pleading thoughts racing through her head. His careless fingers pulled her blistering skin in such a way she thought it might fall off. She could do nothing but howl for an unforgiving king and lost friend.

She knew better than to trust the comfort that soon followed this torment, but she tried to leverage her opportunity nonetheless. “P-please…” She whispered, not fully recovered yet, “N-no more…”

“It’s too late for that.” He sneered, already preparing to repeat the process. “I can’t trust you.”

“B-But you can!” She exclaimed, eager to try and convince him. “I-I want to help you! I want nothing more than-” She cut herself off… asking for her friend back would only make him angrier, but she knew he was in there somewhere! “Than for you to be okay!”

“I AM MORE THAN OKAY!” He bellowed, leaving the tool in the fire while he grabbed a fistful of her hair. Effortlessly, he wrenched her gaze upwards, “I am the King- your King! I have everything I have ever wanted! It’s you- you’re my problem!”

She couldn’t stop tears from forming as she stared at a face so contorted by rage, she could barely recognize it. “Then w-why…” She paused to find her voice. “Why do you keep me around?! It’s not worth it! Just let me go!”

“You’re right.” He unhanded her with a look of disgust before seizing the brand for a third time. He rotated it slowly in his grip. “You’re not worth it…”

Eri approached with a calculating precision that was somehow more terrifying than his unbridled ire. With each of his excruciatingly slow steps, she couldn’t help but try to pull her hands away. She hated the small whimpers that fell out of her mouth with each fraught attempt; the rough leather of her bonds only biting harder into her already aching wrists. By the time he was looming over her, she shut her eyes, forcing tears out as she anticipated pain. However, a deceptively gentle finger urged her chin upwards. Against, her better judgement, she listened to the persistent song of hope lulling her that she would see a familiar companion. She was filled with regret when the only thing glowing hotter than the metal in his hands was the wickedness in his eyes.

“…yet.” He took his time lowering the brand to the back of her hand, finding the way she squirmed both amusing and curious. As much as he enjoyed witnessing her show of fear, did he not make himself clear that the mark needed to be flawless? Something wasn’t getting through to her… That’s when he realized: if he were dealing with any intelligent person they would hold still, but that wasn’t the case with this poor creature. Abruptly changing his course of action, he held the metal up to her face, “Ruin this one and I’ll brand your cheek instead.”

The stern threat coupled with the overwhelming stench of iron made her nauseous and lightheaded. She reflexively pulled back to escape the heat wafting onto her already hot cheek and whined when it chased after her.  

“Understand?”

His condescending question made her want nothing more than to mess up this stupid design, so he would be wasting his precious kingly time. Her spite must’ve been apparent though, because before she knew it, she could feel her skin start to burn from the proximity of the brand.

“Understand?”  

Unable to contain her panic, she acknowledged him with a feverish, “M-mhm!” Eri was never one to back down on his word and this version of him wasn’t partial to providing mercy, as evident by her missing knuckles.

“Good.” He removed the weapon and reached out towards her with his free hand. Her flinching made him chuckle as he tenderly caressed the soft fur of her leopard ears. Letting his touch wander, he twirled a lock of her hair around his index finger. He was very much enjoying this moment of obedience; that was until he noticed her scowl. He gave a heavy sigh… still so much work to be done. “Now then, pet…” He firmly reminded the tabaxi of her place as he drew back, her strands of hair gracefully tumbling off him. “Hold still for your King.”

Sugar shot him a hateful glare as she tried to still her quivering hands. The healing he provided after the previous couple attempts made it possible for her to remain conscious, but her body remembered the impending anguish. She pushed down as hard as she could against the table, bracing for impact. Her frenzied heartbeat rang throughout her ears as the white-hot iron dangled above her awaiting flesh.

“Ready?”

“Fuck you, Eri.”

He brought down the brand with the entirety of his wrath and she wailed with the entirety of her grief. Her stomach churned from the weight of it all as a rush of wooziness promised to take away the scalding pain. Noticing her skin pale the king viciously pulled at her tresses.

“Your Majesty.”

Sugar could only respond with despairing cries as her eyelids fluttered open.

“Say it.”

The hellfire searing deep into her skin urged her to speak. It dragged those revolting words from the bottom of her strained throat to the tip of her tongue. Among her weeping she hoarsely begged, “Y-Your M-majesty…”

“Louder!”

The bones in her hands began to crack as he applied more force with his demand. “YOUR MAJESTY!” Her desperation filled the room as she looked up at him with flooded eyes.

“Better.” He haphazardly threw aside the brand while roughly releasing his hold on her hair. He leaned down to examine his latest work, but her persistent trembling was interfering. “I told you to hold still.”

Sugar gasped for breath through her uncontrollable sobbing. She tried with every ounce of her power to cease shaking, but only managed to further upset herself when she was unsuccessful. “I-I c-can’t!”

“Useless.” Eri remarked, immobilizing her hand by trapping her fingers underneath his palm against the table. He scrutinized the feather pattern and, despite her incessant bawling, managed to reach a conclusion, “It’s perfect”. He stood up to regard the suffering girl with distain, “Now you won’t forget who owns you.”

She wanted nothing more than to tell him she would never be his no matter what he did to her, but her wrecked body wouldn’t allow it. Every time she attempted, nothing but sputters came out. Through hazy vision she watched as Eri gave her one final scowl before turning to leave the dungeon. Exhaustion prevented her from trying to get the last word in as her heavy lids began to close. “I won’t lose…” she told herself as she rested her head on the table keeping her bound.

[whump-galaxy]

The usually loud, slightly egotistical, pain-in-the-ass character shows up to the caretaker’s house. They’ve been given the address in case of emergencies only, so that worries the caretaker already. But when they open the door and the whumpee basically collapses into their arms, clinging to them and crying in an act of vulnerability they’ve never seen with this character, they know something’s seriously wrong.

[lumpofwhump]

Caretaker could feel their heart rate spike immediately upon realizing who it was.

“Why… How did you — ?!”

Here was their literal worst nightmare, lying right in front of them at their doorstep. They were going to get sucked in again, into the same pattern of letting Whumper Whumpee back into their life.

Some part of them thought about closing the door and letting Whumpee deal with what was probably the result of their own bad choices, alone. They’d imagined Whumpee dying - fantasized about killing Whumpee with their own two hands, even - more than a few times.

But face to face with the source of their trauma, who was for once the vulnerable, powerless one here, they couldn’t do it. Even by omission.

With shaking fingers, they pulled out their phone and dialed for help. “H-hello, I’d like to report an emergency…”

—

Caretaker sat in the ambulance next to Whumpee, trying to slow their breathing. They didn’t know what possessed them to tell the first responders that yes, they were Whumpee’s family member. That’s exactly how it felt, like they’d been possessed - making decisions that weren’t their own, that went against every alarm bell going off in their head. Nor could they bring themself to leave the hospital while Whumpee underwent emergency surgery.

Still, their heart sank when the attending doctor reassured them that Whumpee would make it.

They watched as Whumpee’s breathing tube was removed, and asked the nurses to make sure they had enough pain medication. And they waited, for whatever it was they were hoping for out of all this.

—

“You know, this isn’t how I imagined this going,” Caretaker said to Whumpee late at night, after their pain medicine had time to kick in. “How did you even find me?! I must’ve moved five times since we…” They swallowed. “Since I left.

“And no, you egotistical shithead, it wasn’t because of you,” they snapped, raising their voice. “I did this. On my own. I got out. I made a life for myself. Without you. B-but still.” Their fury faded as abruptly as it had appeared. They let out a short, despairing laugh. “You couldn’t just stay out of my life. Isn’t it enough that I still have to deal with you in my dreams? That I have to hear your fucking voice every time I make a mistake, or, or have anything go wrong, telling me I deserve it?”

“Figures,” came the reply from the bed, soft and raspy but still dripping with smugness that both made the bile rise in Caretaker’s throat and sent a chill up their spine. “Here I am in a hospital bed, and you’re still managing to blame all your problems on me. Oh well. Nice to know you’re letting me live rent-free in your head.”

“No, Whumper, it’s my turn to talk,” Caretaker insisted.

Whumper cut them off anyways. “Some life you’ve built for yourself there, living alone in that dump. And from the looks of it, you’re still too much of a disaster to keep it even minimally clean. Typical Whumpee.”

But Caretaker, their own Caretaker, just scoffed in disbelief, shaking their head. “I’m not doing this,” they said simply. Calmly, even.

“What? Hey, wait —“

They turned on their heel, not acknowledging Whumper’s frantic, futile backpedaling, resolving that this was the Whumper they’d remember: pathetic, desperate, and alone.

You hear a knock at your door. When you open it, you find your archnemesis sprawled out just past the threshold, battered, bruised, and very clearly only hanging onto life by a thread. “Sorry. It’s just … I didn’t know where else to go” they mutter as you look down at them.

[the-three-whumpeteers]

hey do you have any fun ideas for a whumpee whos usually quite prideful and egotistical but doesnt get close to people getting hurt and being forced to rest by the caretaker? bonus points if the whumpee didnt think the caretaker really cared about them

I might not be 100% on what you mean but that’s on me for getting like 6 hours of sleep these past few days - ahem ahem, really cool concept tho

The whumpee had made sure to push everyone away- then nobody could use them against the whumpee during torture, or blackmail their friends with their situation- so why was the caretake helping them? The whumpee would act as aggressive and arrogant as they could, but the caretaker just shrugged everything off and kept treating them like a friend, and the whumpee hates that- they don’t want a whumper to get to the caretaker because of them.

The whumpee was convinced they’d never get injured, after all they were the best at what they did- but befriending those who did would just drag them down. The caretaker can clearly see that the whumpee does in fact get injured, but the whumpee will just shrug it off or pretend it isn’t there. The caretaker had to both bribe and beg the whumpee to just lay down and rest. It’s odd that the caretaker was the one to care for the whumpee, since this entire time the whumpee thought that the caretaker hated them as much as everyone else.

The whumpee had befriended someone before, but that person had turned on them, and now they knew better. Climbing up the ranks in society meant being merciless, and now there was even more of a divide between the whumpee and those who could hurt them- good. The only problem is the caretaker, who’s stuck to their side no matter how hard they tried to shrug them off, and when the whumpee gets sick, they’re honestly terrified of what the caretaker could do- to their surprise, the caretaker is only ever helpful. Th entire time the whumpee thought the caretaker only talked to them for their status, but now they realize they actually had a friend.

[the-three-whumpeteers]

The whumpee was someone who, in the eyes of most people, deserved what was happening to them- they had been nothing but cruel and egotistical. Despite everything they’d done the caretaker after seeing them in the state they were in, their shivering bruised body barely looked alive and nobody except for the caretaker seemed to care. The caretaker wanted to do something, but everyone around them would definitely go after them if they even attempted to care for the whumpee.