#sleepy whumpee

[whumpbug]

i have so many thoughts on the word “drowsy”. GOD i can’t get enough of it. i LOVE the implications of it bc it can be related to so many different scenarios with similar vibes

maybe whumpee has had an extremely exhausting day. i’m talking manual labor— working for hours to get something done and they’re finally home and they are BONE tired. maybe caretaker brings them some food and runs them a hot bath, and once they’re warm and their belly is full they find it physically impossible to stay awake. their head keeps bobbing up and down with threats of nodding off, their eyes have that glassy, drowsy, far away look to them, and they’re barely coherent anymore, just focused on keeping their eyes open, but it’s a losing battle. eventually caretaker sidles up to them and guides their head to lay on the space between caretaker’s chin and shoulder and sleep finally takes them

or maybe whumpee has been in a fight or is severely injured or something of the sort, and they’ve been patched up and pumped full of pain meds and are lying in a hospital bed. caretaker is beside them, gently carding their fingers through their hair with a quiet conversation and the gesture as well as the copious amounts of drugs in whumpee’s system is making their eyelids droop. they feel the pleasant buzz of the pain relief and they finally get to rest after whatever unfortunate circumstance landed them in the hospital in the first place and caretaker notices them losing the battle with sleep because their conversation becomes more of a drowsy mumble and then whumpee’s breathing evens out and they’re out

i just love a sleepy whumpee i wanna hold them and let them get the sleep they deserve (੭ ˊ^ˋ)੭ ♡

[marvel-ous-whump]

Magical Mind Control that completely shuts down a Whumpee's mind. leaving them a obedient shell when "Activated" by Whumper. and in a deep, magical sleep when "Deactivated." When Caretaker finds them and rescues them, it takes days for Whumpee to come out from under Whumper's magical influence.

Post Rescue timeline: Days 1-4; Whumpee just floats in darkness. It's quiet, heavy and blissful. Day 5: Whumpee becomes distantly aware of a voice talking to them. it's not Whumper, but comforting none the less. Day 8: Whumpee manages to open their eyes a little. but everything is blurry. Someone's holding them, a hand is in their hair, Whumpee doesn't quite know who it is, but they know they trust this person more than anyone else in the world. Day 12: A light goes off in Whumpee's brain like a lighthouse in pea soup fog. Caretaker! It's Caretaker who's with them. they wish they could speak Caretaker's name, but they're just so Sleepy, they don't have the energy.

Day 13: Whumpee comes to breifly when Caretaker's gently spoon-feeding them some soup. giving Caretaker a feeble smile. Day 15: Whumpee finally wakes up clear-headed and lucid to a teary-eyed Caretaker, hoarsely whispering "Hey."

[whumpy-wyrms]

whumpees who are just so sleepy.. dozing off while whumper talks about how they’re going to hurt them.. too tired to focus on anything else.. maybe they lean into whumper, too tired to care, they just wanna go to sleep…

[biggiesnails]

Stupid little design notes for myself but I’m sharing it anyways

Also irrelevant sketches below the cut

Returning to my roots to get back into art by drawing eyes. Also street artist y/n and an old oc I forgot about

[befuddled-calico-whump]

for the draw your oc thing: i'd ask for sleepy or scared vic because i'd be curious to see if he's even capable of being sleepy or scared

pov you locked him in one of those cramped medieval-style torture boxes for a week and just threatened to do it again

[whumperly]

Thinking about whumpers and whumpees and the intimacy of stabbing. The inherent intimacy of the act.

Whumpers who lean into whumpees as they drive the knife in... The slight resistance then give somewhere soft and vulnerable... Does the whumper whisper something into whumpee's ear? Are they silent? Do they take note of the way whumpee's breath hitches, or the warmth of their body heat radiating from where the hilt of the knife kisses the skin? Do they savor the blood leaking out onto their knuckles and between their fingers, or does it disgust them?

Do they hold whumpee close in mock comfort as they wait for them to pass out from pain/shock/blood loss? Do they hold them, hand fisted in their hair, for the express purpose of keeping them upright only to drop them, let them collapse at their feet?

Do they yank the knife out? Tighten their grip and hold it there to savor the feeling? Do they twist the blade? Bring the knife up and stab them again?

Whumpee trembling as they try to process what just happened, their brain not able to make sense of the pain just yet. Doubling over with a low gut-punched groan or barely there whimper when they do.

[whumpasaurus101]

“I wouldn’t, if i were you.”

Whumpee froze, eyes widening as they bit back a whimper. Their hand quickly shut the book of files they had been reading from Whumper’s desk. They didn’t dare move after that.

“But then again,” Whumper hums, striding up behind Whumpee and gently traced their knife along the other’s cheekbone;

“You never seem to listen, do you?”

[whumpwillow]

Abused royal Whumpee? Whumpee who is heir to the throne, but his parent passed away and kingdom is under a rule of regent until Whumpee is of age. But regent does not want to give away power and abuse Whumpee so he won't dare to go against them in the future. And fun part would be if Whumpee for example was starved and forced to sleep on the floor and beaten, but then all of the signs of abuse got covered up with pretty clothes and no one knows what Prince is going through. Bonus points if Whumpee is seen as spoiled. Whumpee is exhausted from spending night in cold cell and is taking breaks often and people see him as lazy. Or people see pretty clothes and say "you live in such luxury I bet you eat meat every day" and Whumpee does not even eat every day

op i want you to know that you are SO valid for this, this is delicious. I love it and I want it in everything

[lovelizards]

"I was just imagining a rope around that beautiful neck..."

i dont usually post my warm up sketches but here we are characters are Dani and her whumper from @whumpyourdamnpears's series Fruit of the Wicked <3

[sleepyiswhumping]

New Medicine

They flooded the room, their flashy, flawless, bedazzled outfits glimmering in the countless, blinding lights. Avery wanted to scream, tear out his eyes, curl up, wrap his wings around him, something, anything, to block out the lights. His head felt like it was being ripped in two, streaks and spots of light flashing in his vision as daggers stabbed themselves through his skull, slicing his mind to ribbons. Yet he didn’t die. Somehow, he didn’t die. No matter how much he wished he was, it seemed impossible. Incomprehensible agony as—no, no, no, don’t TOUCH ME DON’T PLEASE STAY AWAY— 

[paingoes]

Destroyer - Battleship

(Masterlist)

(Content: physical violence)

================

Delta sat cross-legged in the command center. He took deep, slow breaths to recenter himself. He’d been given permission to. He still had not made up his mind, but the better answer loomed dangerous and sharp.

It was time soon enough. Delta’s eyes flickered around through the window. Even on a good day, when he was most willing, it would’ve been difficult. Their mothership was drifting slowly, but drifting nonetheless. The target - the battleship - trudged forward like an old and wounded animal. Its guns had been tucked safely away, giving it the impression of something tame and docile.

Simon helped him up the stairs to the main control panel. The platform for the pilot and co-pilots was elevated slightly; it allowed for the best view of their surroundings. The rest of the room was lowered. There the engineers handled the internals of the ship, communications, and rear surveillance from their monitors. The engineers were in the room now, but they were forced to weave in between the number of advisors and admirals who had come to watch the light show. Galatea had been running circles around them recently. They wanted their pound of flesh. Paris was hanging around them, jittery, amped. 

The rebel ship was the target. It belonged to Galatea. It had no emblem. It was painted black, almost invisible against the dark void of space it floated in. But it was a Galatea ship. 

Simon nudged him forward again, a bit closer to the window. Delta made his choice then. It did not bring him much relief. The collar clicked off.

Delta wondered if he could make himself faint on purpose. He’d never tried it. At full power, it didn’t seem like a very safe thing to attempt. He closed his eyes, really pretending to think about it. If he focused in, he was sure he would somewhat grasp the shape of the two bodies and be able to work with them. It did not come automatically to him. He didn’t try.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered to Simon, “I can’t see it.”

“What?” Simon said. He’d heard him fine.

“I can’t see it,” Delta repeated. He cringed, just a little bit. He was sorry to put Simon in this position. He even felt sorry for Paris. If there were less people around, it would’ve been easier. But he’d already committed to it. He wouldn’t down a Galatea ship. 

Simon looked at him with absolute scorn. “Try harder.”

Delta shook his head. The collar clicked off. He heard Paris approaching from behind him, the light jangles of his jewelry filling up the air.

“What’s up?” There was a small note of irritation to his voice.

“Says he can’t do it,” Simon didn’t hide his frustration.

“What?” Paris said. Delta swore he could just hear him freeze over sometimes. He realized with alarm that the question had been directed at him. Paris moved to his side, only on the periphery of his vision. He forced himself to keep looking forward into space.

“I can’t,” Delta said. He didn’t elaborate any further. He knew if he gave a more clear answer, they’d try to work around it, prolonging the whole thing. 

Paris sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. Delta looked down, bowing his head in apology. The punch caught him completely off guard. 

Ouch. He knocked into Simon by accident, but not for long. Paris gripped his shirt, throwing him to the ground. He landed on the stairs, their corners cutting roughly into his forearms before he fell the rest of the way down. He reeled in shock. He thought he’d at least have a few hours to prepare himself. He thought Paris would at least wait until they were alone. A sharp kick to his stomach cut off his own thoughts, bringing him back to the present. 

Paris’s anger was explosive. He was not ranting the way he often did in private, but the beating was just as violent. Actually, Delta was pretty sure it was worse. Paris delivered a kick to his shins, then did it repeatedly. He had to put a hand to his mouth to keep from making noise, which he did not usually resort to. He caught a glimpse of Simon, whose expression was unsympathetic. He did not look at the other people gathered there, not if he didn’t have to. Another kick, this time to the ribs. He was getting a little alarmed at how long this was going on.

 He tried to sit up. Paris gripped his hair, slamming his head back onto the ground. He was directly on top of him now. Another punch in the mouth. His sharp teeth cut against his own skin, drawing blood. All the violence was starting to blend together. It just kept going. 

He felt the coolness of the rings just before the grip around his neck tightened.

“Alright, Your Highness, that’s enough,” an unknown voice called faintly. The grip did not loosen even a little bit. Delta had been so focused on his own pain. He’d tried not to look at Paris directly. From the position they were in now, he had little choice. There was such cold fury in his eyes. The pupils were too dilated. 

“That’s enough.” The voice repeated. Delta’s vision was beginning to black out. His body jerked involuntarily, trying to get air.

“Enough.” 

Finally, one of the admirals stepped forward, yanking the prince upward by the scruff. Simon joined a second later, both of them fighting to restrain him. Paris had to be lifted off the ground before he could be dragged away. 

Delta rolled over, gasping and coughing. He spit blood out onto the floor, too delirious to even worry about the mess. His chest heaved up and down, taking in as much oxygen as it possibly could. 

Simon reappeared at his side, rubbing circles into his back. Delta got a few concerned looks from the advisors there, which is how he knew it’d been bad. He wheezed. They tried to remove him from the room quickly, but there was a lot of difficulty in getting him to walk afterwards. He had to lean heavily on Simon for support.

Dr.Martino put ice on his face straight away. He was concerned about the bleeding. He always got so mad whenever Paris hit Delta in the head. Everything else was more or less fair game. While Martino was there, Simon couldn’t baby Delta as much as he wanted to. The shock of the beating seemed to have evaporated whatever anger he might’ve had.

There wasn’t much else to do for him. Paris was always careful not to break bones, usually careful enough not to break the skin. It was all just blunt trauma, only designed to cause pain. Dr.Martino wasn’t going to give him anything to numb it. That would defeat the point. They let him rest though, which he was grateful enough for. 

Simon lingered in the room after the others had left. He dimmed the light, mostly obscuring his expression. Delta could have sworn it was guilt. It wouldn’t have been the first time.

“Do you need me to get you anything?” Simon asked.

“No, sir.” Delta managed to talk around the blood. His head ached. 

“Okay. Get some rest, honey.”

“Yes, sir.” He closed his eyes. 

Thousands of miles away, the battleship floated on without any knowledge of the fate they’d just been spared.

~~~

Tags: @catnykit@indigoviolet311@snakebites-and-ink@vivulapom@defire @scoundrelwithboba @whatwhump @pumpkin-spice-whump @deluxewhump @fuckcapitalismasshole

[dont-be-gentle-please]

Whumpee being scared of loud noises. Fireworks. Honking. A pan being dropped accidentally. Gunshots.

Whumper could take advantage of it, punishing their sweet dumb pet in the most harmless and amusing way possible. Entertaining their guest with a shaking and pale whumpee covering their ears.

[villainsandheroes]

Overworked Heroes

I love a good overworked hero. So tired but still trying to keep that public eye image of themselves strong.

But, I don’t mean just tired.

I mean staying up till 4 AM only to wake up at 5 to start more paperwork or commute to their day job. Or setting that alarm for 30 minutes, just in desperate need of a nap, because they didn’t sleep at all, there just isn’t the time with all of the hero work they keep getting.

Heroes who are just living off of coffee and energy drinks and yet it ceases to help. Thief hands are constantly jittering from the boosts of caffeine and yet they’re still so tired.

Heroes that can’t even go to bed, only making it as far as the couch. Better yet, falling asleep at their desk or after driving home about to get out of the car and just passing out until they’re waking up to phone notifications from the hero agency.

Heroes who desperately need sleep. And it’s not even one particular villain’s fault. If anything it’s the government and their poor treatment of heroes.

[mj-iza-writer]

I'm not saying this as a means to gain sympathy. Every artist has days like this, I have to remind myself of that often. I was supposed to post a story tonight, but everything I'm writing sounds like trash. Editing is also going nowhere for my old stories. I would like to post, but I feel like I'm forcing it, and none of you deserve a half done job. I think I'm dealing with allergies, so I'm a little drained. Also, I haven't forgotten all of your requests. Those are a work on progress. Hopefully tomorrow I'll get something out. I'm sorry for tonight.

Now I'm going to go watch Star Wars.

[tired-of-being-nice]

weapon

febuwhump day... whichever. went with one of the alt prompts for this! human weapon time babyee >:)

cw: referenced violence & injury, blood, human weapon (i mean. obviously), conditioning

Coren is a weapon. And they're good at it. They are sharp, and fast, and quick, and ruthless. Relentless, even. They are pointed in a direction and told go and they go. They attack. They don't think twice, they don't think about who it is they've been told to take out this time, they just go.

And they're good at it. They like it. It's fun, really! They have a fun time! It's so good at being a weapon.

Which is why it's strange that this time, it just felt...off.

They did an excellent job, of course, like they always do. And honestly, they didn't even hurt her that badly. She was being very silly, trying to escape from the Company that Coren loves so dearly, and they simply explained to her the flaws in her reasoning. Loudly. And while wielding a knife. 

And she'd been so rude as to bite them, and attack them, and she'd said–

She'd said–

What had she said? Something, surely. Something strange, to make them feel like this.

"What the fuck is wrong with you, Coren? You used to be my friend!"

Coren shudders at the memory and then frowns at themself for it. What's so upsetting about that? They are friends. They're still friends! It's just that sometimes friends are wrong, and then their other friends have to help them not be wrong.

...Why does that make them feel weird?

It glares at its friend, who is currently lying unconscious on the ground. "This is your fault," it tells her. She doesn't respond, of course, but it makes them feel a little better.

With a sigh, they lift her up and start carrying her back to where she belongs. 

---

Once it's handed her off to the people who can patch her up in time to get her ready for work tomorrow, it leaves again. Normally it'd stick around and wait to be assigned its next job, but...it still feels weird. And hey, the best weapon in the whole company should be allowed to take a walk if it wants to, right?

...They're still covered in blood. Some of it is theirs. Some of it's probably hers. 

They're often covered in blood, theirs and other people's. They don't understand why it's bothering them this time.

They could go back, and tell someone. They're sure someone could do something, tell them something or give them something that could make this bad feeling go away.

They don't go back. They walk, and walk, wandering until they're not even sure where they are. At some point it starts to rain.

Coren sits down on a bench and huddles into themself, staring dully at their hands. There's still blood on them. Maybe if they wait long enough, the rain will wash it off.

taglist (!!):

@whumpsoda

[whumpasaurus101]

Chapter Nine

TEAMWHUMP TIME BABBEEEYYY

---

The team surrounded the building, awaiting Cass’ next command. Cass nodded at Andrew who didn't waste any time in shooting the security camera which hung from the right corner of the house’s front. As much as Andrew and Cass didn't get along, Cass had to admit, he had a damn good aim. 

He waited two seconds before holding two fingers up where they hid in the bushes. The team lifted their black bandanas up over the bottom half of their faces, just above their noses. Cass then quickly took out his phone, sending a thumbs up to Amanda. The team was all males, but they had some girls who came in handy on undercover missions.

The team watched as Amanda walked through the wide gates of the house, heels clacking against the stone driveway. She wore a miniskirt along with a pink crop top which she looked perfect in. Cass shook his head. Focus.

Amanda rang the doorbell, fixing her blonde hair which perfectly fell on her shoulders. She took a deep breath as she got into character.

A man in a suit opened the door, “How can I help you, ma’am?” 

“Oh yes! I had a necklace on when I was at a party here. You see, my mother had given it to me and-”

Cass hated as he watched the man’s eyes rake down and slowly back up, taking Amanda in. Cass’ grip on his gun tightened but he tried to calm himself.

The man smiled, “Why don't you come in?” Amanda beamed and made her way inside, sliding a small wedge between the edge of the door, ensuring the door didn't fully close without the man seeing.

Cass nodded, “Wedge in place, we wait until they clear the door.”

---

The creak of the door made Niko raise his head, only to let out a weak groan when he saw the doctor. God, just what he needed. The doctor simply huffed, “I want to do this just as much as you do,” He grumbled.” Niko just rolled his eyes, resting his head against the roon’s floor.

The doctor knelt beside Niko, taking out his equipment before slowly lifting the back of Niko’s shirt. Niko, who lay on his front, let out a whimper, squeezing his eyes shut. He didn't know how he felt. Overwhelmed was an understatement. He thought Marcus was a good guy, but no, he was terribly wrong. He thought back on what he had said. What a creep. 

“Why do you hate me?”

Miko rasped, a tear rolling down his face. Okay, he’ll admit, he was feeling sorry for himself. But from the lack of sleep, food and all the pain he was in, how couldn't he?”

The doctor simply dug the antiseptic wave deeper against one of Niko’s wounds, making him whimper, squeezing his eyes shut. He missed just having simple conversations. Just then, a huge crash sounded from upstairs, followed by yells and shouts and lastly gunshots. Both Niko and the doctor’s head snapped up as the door flew open.

Martyn rushed inside, gun held up, pointing straight at Niko as he glared, “Don't make a noise, don't even open your bloody mouth.” Niko’s eyes widened, gulping as he felt his chest tighten. “Doctor, get upstairs and get your gear on, get the bloody team, make them believe that they can save Niko down here, then get all the men to pounce on them, am I understood?”

The doctor nodded and sprinted up the stairs of the basement. As the door shut, Martyn’s cold, dangerous eyes fell back to Niko, making the other shrink back slightly. “Get up.” Niko winced from the pain as he slowly got to his feet, his vision spinning around him. Martyn grabbed a tight fistful of his hair and dragged him over to the pillar in the middle of the room. He tied Niko’s hand behind his back before tying the rope all along his torso and around the pillar before finally tying his ankles.

As the footsteps grew louder, Martyn smirked, “Let's see how good your acting skills are, buttercup.” He didn't even give Niko enough time before shoving and tying a piece of cloth around his mouth. Niko let out a muffled shout of protest but Martyn simply shoved the muzzle of the gun against Niko’s temple.

Niko’s eyes blew wide, a whimper ripping from the back of his throat. “It's cute how your friends came back for you. Cute but dumb.”

Niko roared at that, trying to throw himself forward at Martyn to attack him but the ropes kept him in place and Martyn disappeared in the shadowed corner of the room.

Cass was the first to barge in through the door, his eyes widening when he saw the cowered frame tied up against the pillar. “Niko!!!” He sprinted over to him, beginning to untie the ropes. Niko let out a muffled cry, desperately shaking his head as he tried to warn the team.

“Niko, man, we can't understand what you're saying with that thing in your mouth,” Adrian laughed, reaching forward to grab the gag but the sound of a gun clicking made them freeze.

“Well well well, isn't this just cute.”

Martyn’s voice echoed through the room, making Niko shiver, a cold tingle sent down his spine. He squeezed his eyes shut as he whimpered. His arms were free now thanks to Cass but he didn't dare reach for the gag as he saw Martyn’s gun emerge from the shadows.

“A little reunion, hm?”

Cass growled, taking out his own gun, “Don't you dare, we just want him back, we don't want to cause any harm.” 

Martyn simply chuckled, his finger tapping gently at the trigger, “Marcus, untie him.” Marcus, who had suddenly appeared at the door way came over, knife in hand and cut the ropes. Just as hope filled Niko, he was grabbed by a fistful of his hair as Martyn roughly pulled him over. The gun was carelessly slammed up against his head, “Everyone take out your weapons- slowly.”

Cass clenched his jaw, looking at his team before nodding once, ensuring to slowly place his gun down on the ground, “Listen- just give us Niko and we will leave in peace.” Martyn huffed out a laugh, slowly dragging the muzzle of the gun down the side of Niko’s face as he watched the rest of the team lay down their weapons, Marcus going around and collecting them all, chucking them in a bin before he returned to the door frame. Niko bit the inside of his cheek as he tried to hold in a whimper as the gun then moved to his throat.

“I don't think so, big shot, you guys don't get to come to my party and ruin things for me.” Fury overtook Martyn and he roughly shoved Niko to the ground. Niko fell with a cry, whimpering as he curled in on himself. He heard his team yell, rushing forwards to get to Niko but Martyn was quick to point the gun back towards Niko.

“Nobody fucking move, everyone put their hand up on your head and stay still while my boys pat you down.” He watched as the four men hesitantly raised their hands, resting them on their heads as Marcus and three other guards approached them. Andrew snapped out, growling as he glared at Marcus, “Don't fucking touch me.”

“Ah,” Martyn smirked, slowly making his way towards Andrew, “A foul mouth and an aggressive attitude, you must be Andrew.” Andrew froze at his name.

“How-how did you-”

“No time for chit chat now, restrain him, he’s going to be trouble.”

In Andrew’s state of both confusement and shock, it was easy for Marcus to force him on his knees, restraining his hands behind his back and a gag in his mouth.

Cass’ worried eyes snapped to Niko, Sorry Niko signed. Cass shook his head before signing, You look like shit, you alright? 

Despite the situation they were in, Niko couldn't help but smile. He went to sign a response but Martyn’s attention was back on him. “Oh, something amusing to you Niko?”

Niko’s eyes widened as he cleared his throat, “No-nothing, ‘m sorry…” He shrunk back as Martyn stepped right up into his face, feeling the familiar warm breath against his skin.

“Oh, really?” Martyn’s head tilted in curiosity, eyes narrowing, “Drop to the ground.” 

Niko looked up at him, confused but he suddenly dropped to his front against the floor as Martyn took out his gun. Martyn smirked, “Good. Now, plank position- and I need you to hold it strong. If you fail, I am sooooo going to make you fucking regret it, got it?”

Niko didn't even respond before pushing himself into the plank position, his arms already beginning to ache. Before he could brace himself, two heavy boots planted on his back and a sudden weight almost crashed him down.

Niko squeezed his eyes shut, wheezing out as he clenched his core. His arms shook as he kept in the plank position, Martyn standing on his back as he spoke to the team, “Here’s how this is going to work. You will all stay in a cell. One by one you will be dragged out and be questioned. The cell is bugged and there will be two people listening at all times so don't even think about creating some fake cover story. Marcus, get them out of my sight.”

And with that, Martyn stepped off of Niko’s back, kicking his ribs hard as he watched the other fall to the ground with a cry, “I hope you enjoyed your warmup, buttercup, we’re only getting started.”

---

Taglist: @blood-enthusiast @deckofaces @whumpifi @sleepy-dog-boy @whumpatize-me-captain @a-n-i-a-fan @sparrowsage @theelvishcowgirl @sorry-i-spaced @juniperspring @cherrychupachup @morning-star-whump @thelazywitchphotographer @kixngiggles @auroragehenna @fraugustends @jupiter-lemaris @wishiwaskidnapped @books-are-everything @unforgiven235 @bloodyandfrightened

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