#good whumper

[lights-out-knives-out]

Heyo part 3

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Whumper dropped the gun.

Whumper’s hands shook as he turned to hold himself steady on his desk, he never liked using his gun, he only carried it around because Henchmen insisted on it.

It was a gift, back from when they were friends…

Friends

Whumper looked back around to see Henchmen slumped on the floor, blood pooling around him.

Henchmen was always going to step out of line at some point, it was inevitable. Over the years Henchmen had become more reckless, not caring whose lives were at risk.

Whumper just didn’t think that HE was going to be the one to put an end to Henchmen’s reign of terror.

Breath, he told himself

What kind of Boss are you having a panic attack after shooting one of your only friends?

‘Work, I need work’ Whumper thought through the oncoming panic ‘Something to distract me.’

He looked down at his bleeding hand “That’ll do” he mumbled, pushing himself up to find bandages.

After successfully bandaging up his hand, Whumper went to work cleaning up his desk keeping as far away as Henchmen as he could, He can always call someone to help later..

“Whumper?”

Whumper’s head whipped up, standing in the doorway was Whumpee.

Wrapped up is a blanket, Whumpee’s tear streaked face looked between Whumper and the dead body on the floor. Whumpee looked up with fear in their eyes,

‘They think they’re next’ Whumper thought

Whumper rounded the desk, taking slow but careful steps towards Whumpee.

Whumpee stood there petrified, only moving when Whumper touched their arm which they flinched away at.

Whumper wrapped his still shaking arms around Whumpee, pulling them close resting his face in their hair. “It’s ok, we’re ok.” Whumpee gave a shuddering sob in his hold, Whumper felt a few of his own tears fall as well.

“He can’t hurt us you anymore. We’re ok. We’re safe.”

And for the first time in a while, they actually were.

Tag list

@fishtale88 @doodlepoodle154 @100percentevil @sucker4whump @kalah-ko-kayah-mo @whumpdreamz @crotchgoblin69 @mumza-superiority

[letitbehurt]

Whumpee being manhandled into restraints:

Shoved up against a wall and handcuffed.

Pinned to the floor and handcuffed.

Fighting for each limb as they’re forced down on a table, slowly secured by leather restraints.

Overwhelmed by multiple Whumpers, each one working to subdue them.

Yanked back by their hair so a collar or rope can easily be fitted around their throat.

Pinned while in combat (double points for being caged against a wall or trapped in a chokehold)

Improvised restraints like belts, sheets, or clothing when Whumpee won’t be still enough to retrieve proper ones.

Manhandled in a hospital bed, held down for the duration of a procedure.

Injected with a chemical restraint, a sedative or numbing agent that quickly bleeds the fight out of them.

Struggling as a muzzle is wrestled over their head and secured.

A blow to the head that knocks Whumpee out or makes them too dizzy to fight anyone off.

[hurtwithallthecomfort]

Whumpees missing their previous life before the whump is great and all but whumpees who don’t even know what life is like outside their cell are so fun to write and read imo. Whumpees who were born into capitivty, or were lab-grown by whumper, not knowing that there’s other things to life than this. Whumpees who suffer with memory loss that will never know just how good their life was before whumper came along. Whumpees who have been conditioned into forgetting about their memories, or worse, have been trained into believing life without whumper was so much worse that, actually, captivity is great and the best option for them. If whumper says so, it must be true.

[ziptiesnfries]

concept: whumper does the whole "kidnap two people and hurt one of them until the other cracks" thing, except it becomes increasingly clear that kidnappee 1 is enraptured with the torture of kidnappee 2 - can't stop staring, trying to hide their obvious delight, etc.

[californium98]

What We Need

Captor x reader

Warnings: noncon, spanking, oral (f receiving) , whipping, abûse, emotional abûse, kidnapping, captivity, angst

Word count: 1.9K

“I think both of us know what you need.”

He swallowed thickly, his breath against your forehead as he spoke. He had you pinned, your wrists twisted together so tightly in his grasp that you were afraid you might bruise.

You looked past him, the rain storm going on outside raged. Both of you were soaked to the bone. You were to blame. This would be escape attempt number four in the past month.

“I didn’t mean to…”

You trailed off. His breath grew rugged, his suppressed anger building inside him. He hated when you did this. He hated when you feigned your innocence. He hated when you cowered under him, begging him to be merciful as if you didn’t regularly try to kill or maim him.

He could only really blame himself. Each time, he’d take you over his lap and give you five swats just to get it over with. After which, he’d swaddle you with affection, assuring you that you didn’t know any better. He figured this constant infantilization would put you in your place.

You didn’t let the reductive language make you pliant. Instead, in the midst of his growing impatience, you used it to make sure he didn’t actually hurt you. It would work every single time.

“Is it going to be a spanking?”

You looked at him, large eyes brimming with fake tears.

His mounting anger briefly seemed to dissipate.

He ceased his rugged breathing with one final shaky exhale before roughly knotting a hand in your hair.

“You’re a good girl that hasn’t had good discipline. That’s all. Let me show you just how much I love you.”

His tone was low, caring, and laced with guilt.

“You made me do this.”

With a hand still twisted around a lock of your hair and the other gripping onto your shoulder, he led into your shared bedroom. You tried backing up in the other direction but his hard body stayed behind you and his steps persisted. His heavy boots created loud footfalls that resounded in the hall like some sort of death march.

“Please—I don’t understand… I’m sorry.”

By the time you reached the bedroom, you were screaming and crying, repeating your pleas like a mantra to an unforgiving god. He didn’t even look at you, his face completely stoic.

His fingers unfurled from your hair and you immediately turned around, embracing him.

“I know, baby. This hurts me too.”

He spoke into your hair, gingerly planting a kiss on your forehead before gently prying your hands away from his body.

You clawed at him, desperate to be close to your captor.

You hugged him again, attaching yourself to him like Velcro.

“Are you finally regretting your actions now? Are you ready to be good?”

That same infantilizing tone returned, but this time you welcomed it. You nodded into his chest.

“Good, so that means you’re going to take your punishment like good girls do.”

He pulled you off of him, physically holding you away from his body. Insultingly enough, he only needed to use one of his hands. With the other, he undid his belt, the sound of the buckle being undone rang in your ears. Your heart rate skyrocketed.

“Ten with the buckle and twenty with the leather. How many does that make, hun?” He crooned.

This was new. Taunting. Regardless of his flippant tone, you knew he expected an answer. A switch flipped in you. The tension left your body and your form slackened. Your shoulders still shook and tears still streamed down your face, but your body gave up. The fight left you and you resigned to your fate.

“Thirty.” You said, defeated.

He hummed his response and hooked a hand under your arm, dragging you over the edge of the bed.

He folded the belt, positioning it so that the buckle was at the bight of the loop. You waited for the impact, but it didn’t come. Instead, he bent over you draping his large form over your body.

“I know you can be good, but you chose this.”

He gritted. The hurt in his voice was crushingly genuine.

“I’m going to hurt you very badly, baby. You need to know that how badly this hurts you is how badly I love you. You continue to misunderstand me on purpose. I treat you so…”

His voice faltered.

“I treat you so gently, even when you’re bad. I hold back, but my love for you is forceful and extremely painful for me to endure especially when you continue to reject me like this. So, you need to feel it. You need to feel how bad this is for me. You need to—”

He cut him self off, shoving you further into the mattress. You barely had time to react before his belt came down on your backside, the buckle bruising your thigh. Pain irradiated through you. Instinctively you shot up off the mattress only to immediately be pushed down again.

“You just need to give in…”

He continued, his tone sickeningly soft.

The belt came down on you again. You wailed, hands flying to your backside in an attempt to shield yourself from any more of this hurt.

“Move your hands.” He chided. “Move your hands or I tie them to the bedposts.”

Your hands came away from your sore bottom and gripped the bedsheets for some semblance of comfort.

Another hit with the belt buckle and you were falling apart, letting go of the slightest bit of dignity you had left. You were begging, making promises that you weren’t sure you could fulfill, promising your submission and obedience to him if he just stopped. He didn’t raise his voice at all, but his words could still be heard above your cries. The register of his tone settling in the very depths of your soul. Even in the midst of inflicting so much pain, his words were gentle.

“You’ll learn.” He repeated. “You’ll learn to be a good girl for me.”

He was half speaking to you, half assuring himself that on the other side of all of this will be his perfect, loving, submissive captive.

Between the remaining seven strikes with the buckle, your legs shook and you’d twist around, hoping to relieve your body’s mounting discomfort.

“I know it hurts,” he’d say before he put you back into position. “The hard part is almost over.”

When the ten strikes with the buckle were over, he stood you up. Your body couldn’t help but shake. You were helpless and pathetic looking, the way he liked you, except this time you weren’t faking it. He saw that. In his eyes, he longed to scoop you up, give you a bath and hold you for the rest of the night, hoping that in the morning, you’d be a changed woman. His work wasn’t over, though.

“I said thirty and I’m a man of my word, sweetheart.”

He sighed, not meeting your pleading eyes. You ceaselessly whined at him. He indulged you a little bit by letting you cling onto him for a while. The moment was short lived. Once again, the warmth of his body left you and your arm was roughly bent behind your back until you yielded.

The leather was no better than the buckle. Your ass was numb at this point, but the initial crack of the belt against your bruises and welts left a persistent burning, stinging sensation. Your body physically could not be any more in pain.

There was a point when twisting away created more discomfort than being still and taking it, so that’s exactly what you did. He was speaking to you between strikes but you couldn’t hear him. You weren’t sure if it was because your brain couldn’t comprehend anything or if it was because he was mumbling pointless words to comfort you.

“It hurts me this much when you don’t love me.”

Crack!

“It hurts me this much when you reject me.”

Crack!

“It hurts me this much when you tell me you hate me.”

Crack!

He dropped the belt with a sigh, sounding emotionally spent.

You didn’t move, sobbing into the sheets for a while. He lifted you up, cradling you. The tears in your eyes blinded you and even if you could look him in the eye, it might be too much for you to see him look down at you with that pitiful frown.

He set you down and turned away, so you thought he might leave you alone for at least a moment. You willed your broken body to start dressing yourself. He turned around suddenly, taking your underwear out of your hands and lifting you back up onto the bed.

You tried to form your mouth around the word “no” but you found that you couldn’t. Whether it was because of the fear in your chest or the lump in your throat, you don’t know. All you knew is that you just couldn’t bring yourself to reject his advance, which is probably for the best. Something about the rigid way he held his body over you told you that a word like that might send him off the deep end.

He laid you down gingerly. He fell to his knees with a thud before putting your legs over his shoulders. The way he moved you put friction on your bruises and fresh broken skin. You groaned in pain.

“Shhh, it’s okay. I know, baby. I’ll make it go away.”

He whispered, his lips close to your inner thigh. He started with small kisses on your thighs, then he migrated to where he really wanted to be.

He dipped his tongue into your folds, slipping it against your clit before pushing it inside you. His tongue explored your entrance for a moment, teasing you. You lifted your legs a bit more to give him better access, but he held your thighs in place.

“No, baby. When you lift your legs like that I can see all the evidence of your disobedience. The marks you made me give you make me sick. It’s shameful and I don’t want to see it.”

He was still stern, but his breath shuttered as he spoke. It ignited something in you for the briefest moment, but when you looked down at him, even on his knees, he looked dangerous. His eyes bore into you, holding your eye contact while he began tonguing you once again.

You obeyed, not even flinching when he dug his nails into your thighs. He toyed with your clit, pushing his mouth flush against you.

You arched your back, feeling the end approaching. You bit your lip hard, trying to stop yourself.

“I thought we were past this. You holding on to your pride and dignity is just going to make me bend you over again.”

This was enough to both set you straight and send you over the edge. Euphoria flooded through you and so did shame. Your orgasm rippled through your body, causing your legs to shake even more than they already were.

There was a pounding in your head. Experiencing that much pleasure and pain all within the hour was too much for you to take. Your afterglow was short lived and the pain once again returned. Tears streamed down your face. You just wanted a nap. It’s that quiet, pliant, confused, dazed state that he wants. He didn’t realize how much he needed you like this until he had it.

He’s now your only source of comfort, discipline, direction, entertainment, and affection. Anything a person could be, he became.

“Aw, you’re so spent, baby. I think it’s bedtime for you…you can make things up to me in the morning.”

[chaotic-orphan]

Concussed villain gets kidnapped?

Villain showed up on Hero’s doorstep, heaving in breaths as they slammed their fist on the door. Their arm was ridiculously heavy, and it took everything in them to throw it mercilessly against the wooden door. The effects were meagre knocks that Villain prayed Hero would hear.

If Hero was even home.

What if they were working tonight? Fuck, why didn’t Villain think of that? Their head was pounding so they rested their forehead against the cool wood, letting out a shaky, shallow breath, trying not to anger the fire in their ribs. Blood continued to trickle from their hairline down over their eyes and dripping onto their cheeks.

That wasn’t good.

They heard footsteps behind the door and Villain almost broke down there and then, relief flooding them like a tsunami of feeling, washing away everything that was keeping Villain upright. Tears poured down their cheeks at the thought of safety, hero looking after them… their hero. They could tell them about Superhero’s plans.

They could tell them… Villain put a hand against the door and pushed themselves backwards. They would’ve fallen if not for the arm that snaked around their waist. Villain blinked dumbly and glanced down. Arm around—?

Before they cry out or scream in warning a hand clamped over their mouth and Villain was ripped away from the door and into the shadows. Villain thrashed, struggling in their attacker’s grip, all their screams and cries muffled to nothing but silent pleas.

The door opened and Villain’s struggles renewed but Hero wouldn’t be able to see them from here. Hero wouldn’t know they were even there!

“Hello?” Hero asked into the darkness and Villain whimpered against the hands holding them in an iron cage. Villain threw their body forward, back, trying to dislodge their attackers arms but they didn’t budge even a little.

“If you want Hero to continue to draw breath, Villain, you’ll come quietly.”

Villain froze at the voice. That was… Superhero… the reason why Villain was in this state in the first place. Villain’s struggles renewed as Hero stepped out of their house. If they could even sense something was amiss so close to them then they would investigate. Hero would have to investigate, right? And Hero was in danger too!

Villain had to warn them, they had to!

“Hello?” Hero asked, a note of agitation creeping into their voice.

I’m here! Villain wanted to scream. Hero please! I’m right here.

A pinch in their neck and Villain’s fruitless struggles seized, their blood running cold. They flinched as cold liquid was pushed into their neck. No… no, no, no, no. “That’s it, Villain,” Superhero whispered. “Don’t fight it.”

The hazy world blurred even more and Villain fell back against Superhero’s chest, the fight leaving them almost instantly. What did Superhero drug them with?

Their eyelids shut and Villain forced them back open, with a gargantuan effort. The last thing they saw was Hero frown and close the door before their entire world faded to black in the arms of their enemy.

[whump-bunny]

As a whump writer, I have to make a conscious effort not to put every single chase scene in a forest. I just love forests tbh. The darkness, the creatures, the roots for whumpee to trip on, the nooks and crannies for whumpee to hide, the dogs tracking their scent, the sudden sharp decline that they tumble down, into an ice cold stream... I just love forests y'all

[whumpitisthen]

Masterlist

Grab your character and shove their head underwater. Keep them pinned until they breathe in the water. Pull them up and let them splutter and cough. Push them under again. Pull them up. Let them use their precious seconds of air to beg. "Ple-Please, please stop — " Push them under again. Feel them squirm. Pull them up sooner; they couldn't hold their breath long enough. Once more for good measure. Don't let them up until they nearly suffocate. Pull them up and throw them to the ground, let them cough up all the water they swallowed. Pull them into your lap. They are shivering, the cold water having seeped deep into their bones. They are crying. They are going to try to pull away. Don't let them. Hush them gently. Card through their hair. Let them relax under your hands. Then drag them back over to the water. Put their nose right above the surface and keep their head right there. Let them imagine how it will feel to be pushed under again, held there, pulled up just so they can drown again. They will fight, they will sob, they will plead and barter and yell. They will be scared. Answer them with an order. "Take a deep breath for me." Watch them struggle to decide if they should. They probably won't be able to take one deep enough if they tried. Push them under. Watch them squirm. Repeat.

[whumble-beeee]

You Look So Much Prettier This Way

Poor Stan. What will you do to get out of this predicament, I wonder?

What will you do when fighting back isn't even an option?

Stan sat stunned. He couldn't speak. He couldn't scream for help, he couldn't complain, he couldn't quip, he couldn't stand, he couldn't struggle, hell, he could barely even move.

He wanted to cry.

His face hurt from where they punched him. His neck hurt from where they grabbed him. His entire body hurt from where they'd manhandled him to the ground and pinned him down and tied him up, choking him, punching him if he dared flinch, or god forbid he struggled against their grasp.

And after all that excessive tying, the rope that scratched against his tender skin and pressed in on his ribcage in a suffocating embrace.

They'd gotten out the duct tape. His heart stuttered, eyes wide. He started to scream, he kicked out at them.

Big mistake. As soon as they finished they mortifying ordeal of wrapping his mouth in layer after layer of duct tape, they slammed him down onto his back and hoisted his legs into the air, bent them into the most odd position, and by the time Stan realized that had still more rope, they were already wrapping it around his ankles and his thighs.

Over and over.

He tried to scream. They kicked him. He screamed some more into the duct tape gag. More blows. Tears. It didn't stop. He couldn't even curl in on himself to protect his soft underbelly.

Then they plopped him on the floor.

Surrounded him.

Appraised him, hungry eyes searching over his body.

Stan couldn't hold back the tears anymore.

The one he thought to be the leader stepped foreward.

Knelt in front of him, cupped Stan's cheek in their hand.

Stan could barely even find the strength to jerk away, and when he did, they just grabbed his collar and yanked him back, made him stare right into their ruthless shark-like eyes. And there was absolutely nothing he could do to stop them.

"You look so much prettier this way," they lulled. "I wonder if your friends will agree when they come to find you."

* * * * * * * *

Whumptober 2024 | Day 7 | The Bee's Whumptober Masterlist

Stan is an OC that belongs to The (Un)Official Guide to Hero-Keeping!

Whumptober Taglist: @whumperofworlds | @whumptober-archive | @regular-whump-sfx

(If you wanna be added or subtracted from the taglist, don't be afraid to ask!)

[oddsconvert]

Whumpee's who call Whumpers by their actual name!!!

I live for it!!! How much more personal is it to call your tormentor by their name, to recognise that this monster is actually human too? 😍 There's no disconnect between whumpee and whumper, pet and master etc. There's that extra level to their relationship, a closeness whether they want it or not.

Or maybe it's in a moment of cheeky defiance, daring to call whumper by their name. Or a moment of pleading and desperation, trying to tap into Whumper's sympathy. Or an intimate whumper, a whumper forcing whumpee to be in a relationship with them - of course, they'd call each other by name!

I just think it has so many connotations to it hehe.

[paingoes]

Hi, Paris! (Destroyer era)

🥂 - Looking back on the last year, is there anything you regret? Anything you would have done differently?

[painsandconfusion]

Forced Comfort

Because who doesn't like a little bit of intimate whumper vibes?

[Prompt Masterpost]

Whumpee wrapped up in a blanket. The soft fabric hides the fact that their hands are still bound behind their back.

Gentle fingers brushing the hair from Whumpee’s face - carefully peeling it back through the sheen of sweat that’s left.

“Shhh…you’re okay. I’m not gonna hurt you anymore..”

Kissing tears from the corners of Whumpee’s eyes.

Whumper keeping Whumpee sedated between sessions to 'help them cope'.

“Hold still- hold still or I’ll start again.”

Pinning a squirming Whumpee in an embrace. Grip tightening the more they struggle. 

Whumpee being so tired. So so so very tired. They can’t help but lean into the gentle touch. 

Whumper ignoring every shiver and twitch that accompanies the gentle pets they give their broken toy.

“Nnnnono-sst…d-on’ t ouchme-!”

Whumpee thrashing to the point of hyperventilation as Whumper wraps them up in blankets. The panic in their eyes ever so slowly fading as they realize they’re not being hurt anymore.

Whumpee desperately not trying to lean into it or accept the comfort. They don’t want it from them - don’t want to melt into the hands that ripped screams from them just a few minute before. But they need something. And Whumper knows it.

“Look at you. Pathetic little thing~”

Shoving Whumpee into a bath to trigger some kind of calming response. Whumpee just thinks they’re going to be drowned. …….maybe they will be. Just a little bit.

Whumper combing a hand through Whumpee’s hair - soft and rhythmic and sweet - as they carve into Whumpee.

“Shhh..just focus on me. Don’t look at  it- just look at me. Listen to my voice. You’re doing so good, little one.”

Kisses peppering over Whumpee’s cheeks, lips, forehead, brows, jaw, etc as their face puckers up, trying to twist away. 

A hug that looks gentle until you notice Whumper’s hand fisted in Whumpee’s hair. Keeping them exactly in place.

“Don’ don t t-ouch me- STOP-”

Drugging Whumpee to ‘help with the nerves’. Watching their panicked sobs slowly peter out into nothing as they stare miserably at their captor. 

“Make the most of this. We start again in the morning.”

[Prompt Masterpost]

(tags: @prisonerwhump @whumpawink @mabledonut @happy-little-sadist @paleassprince @distinctlywhumpthing @wibbly-wobbly-whump @batfacedliar-yetagain @suspicious-whumping-egg @wormwriting @villainsvictim @throwawaywhumper @wild-selenite-caffine @whumpasaurus101 @thecitythatdoesntsleep @whumpworld @pinkieglitterheart @whumpberry-cookie @rainbows-and-whumperflies @a-galactic-fox @shywhumpauthor @cyberneticwhump @bumpwhump @hold-back-on-the-comfort @veyroswin @whumping-seven-days-a-week @whumpingisfun @suffering-and-misery @definitely-not-a-seagull-i-swear @yetanotheraltwhumpblog @whump-queen @a-whumped-tea @whumpsday @sonder35 @scribbelle)

As always, lmk if you want to be added or removed from any tag lists!

[letitbehurt]

When a stoic Whumpee is seen fraying at the edges. They ignore the way their hands shake, their breaths are uneven, and only a thin, straining thread of will is keeping them upright.

Maybe they’ve been poisoned. Maybe they’ve worn themself past exhaustion. Maybe Whumper has found a secret to use against them, and they are fighting to remain in control of themself.

And they are failing.

[crimsons-whump-pile]

fantasy creature whump where whumper owns a fantastical menagerie, and they keep whumpee on display in a gilded birdcage in the center of the garden. whumpee could be humanoid or beastly, but the intelligence in their eyes is clear despite the row of golden bars separating them from the onlookers. to them, whumpee is no more than a common animal — no, less than that. no more than a sideshow attraction, a decoration here for their amusement. not human like them at all.

[foundfamilywhump]

see like the thing with 'carewhumpers' as a concept to me is it just like... i know this is prrrrobably not really how it's meant but something skeeves me out about the idea that kindness or caretaking mixed in with hurting someone can somehow meaningfully complicate or dilute the harm done to the point of making that character no longer a 'whumper' whereas someone doing the same 'bad' things but not ever being gentle or caring for them would just be a straight-out whumper. when like... that's how 90% of irl abuse dynamics work? so i just... don't really get the point, i guess. like to me it implies something about the 'care' provided somehow mitigating or combating the harm done that. i just do not personally appreciate or enjoy.

[distracted-obsessions]

I gotta love the when Whumpee's team meets one of Whumpee's old Whumpers but it's a Carewhumper or a manipulative Whumper that Whumpee views as a minor bother.

The team has to work with Whumper for some reason and the team finds out about their shared past. Maybe Whumpee tells them, maybe Whumper tells them, maybe they're both perfectly forthcoming about everything.

The team hates Whumper for how they treated Whumpee and always ask Whumpee if they need a break from Whumper or tell them that they can make do without Whumper but Whumpee just rolls their eyes and says that Whumper is harmless.

Whumper is far from harmless and the team is very concerned by the fact that Whumpee seems to be mildly annoyed at worst.

The team tries their best to make sure that the two of them are never alone but they keep finding the two of them together in increasingly compromised positions.

Whumper seems increasingly annoyed at being interrupted but Whumpee doesn't seem seem to care either way.

"You can't gaslight me, I know what you sound like when you're gaslighting me." "What’s gaslighting? I don't think that's a thing."

When Whumper finally leaves, the team is ecstatic. Whumpee watches them go with a hint of longing in their eyes.