TW: Implied Torture, Punishments, Knife 

@whumpuary

“Whumpee,” Whumper scolded softly. “I told you what would happen if you disobeyed me, didn’t I?” In spite of the softness in his voice, his expression was grave. 

“Yeah…” Whumpee grimaced, turning their gaze elsewhere. 

“And what did you do Whumpee?” 

“I…disobeyed you.” They lowered their head. They didn’t know if it was in shame or to avoid eye contact even more. Regardless, they kept their gaze to the floor. They did not want this. They felt they had enough scars and cuts and bruises. 

“And do you know what that means?” 

“I get punished…” 

“Punished for what?” 

“For disobeying you…” 

Whumper hummed, the slightest smile on his face. “It’s good you’re aware.” He pulled out his knife and stepped closer when Whumpee tightly shut their eyes, hissing. 

“Just get it over with.” 

With raised brows, Whumper leaned away. “What was that?” 

Whumpee quickly opened their eyes as panic rose in their chest. “I-I said I–” 

“You want to just get it over with?” 

“No, no, no! That’s not what I said! I said–” 

“No, I’m pretty sure that’s what you said.” Whumper nodded even as Whumpee shook their head. “Yes, yes.” They smiled more visibly as it turned into a wicked smirk. “I’ll go as slow as I possibly can.”

picture this-

whumpee cowering in the corner of a cement basement. Blood starting to pile beneath them, they cradle the injured parts of themselves. Footsteps are heard from outside the door.

Whumpee closes their eyes and prays. Silent sobs fall from their face. Cause they know- they know what happens when that door opens.

Okay mock executions are fucking terrifying I have not seen nearly enough of them in the whump community.

Whumpee who knows they’re going to die the next week/day/few hours and there’s nothing they can do to stop it. The panic and desperation with no outlet. They claw at their restraints and throw themself at the door to their cell, uncaring as bruises bloom across their skin, or as blood begins to build up underneath their nails. They’re willing to sacrifice everything for the futile, fleeting hope of escape. They scream and beg until their voice goes hoarse even though there’s no one nearby to listen. Eventually, they crumple in on themself to the awful realization that their future is set and cut. They can’t even sleep without their dreams being plagued with this lingering terror. Maybe they’ve seen Whumper kill someone in the manner they’ve told Whumpee they are to be executed, so Whumpee can’t even pretend to think that maybe Whumper is bluffing.

When the day comes, they still haven’t settled into their fate. They’re absolutely hysterical, doing everything they can to stay away from Whumper and [insert place where they were planned to be executed]. Of course, this does nothing. If they won’t walk, Whumper’s men will simply drag them. At one point maybe Whumpee manages to break free for a short moment of hope, managing to throw their elbow against Henchman’s stomach and twist away, actions fueled only by the adrenaline flooding their mind. They take a single desperate lunge towards the door, before something hard catches them upside the head and knocks them down. Their vision is fuzzy and fleeting, hearing nothing but a faint ringing. Maybe they’re unconscious altogether as Henchman picks them up and continues to drag them towards their final destination.

Whumper plays out everything the way it was intended. They tie the blindfold over Whumpee’s eyes, exchange their chains for softer restraints. Whatever. Then when it comes time for the strike, for the blade to pierce through their chest or slit across their neck, all that Whumpee feels is a small prick against their neck, something cold flood through their body before their thoughts collapse under the intensify of the stress and their mind gives out.

Wherever they wake the following day, let it be somewhere much worse than death’s doorstep or a place so peaceful Whumpee couldn’t even begin to comprehend, Whumpee will be terrified. Panicked and confused. Their thoughts will have no answer as they realized there is no one else around to answer their cries. They wonder if this is death, the afterlife or whatever it was called.

That hope is crushed, replaced by even more of a helpless confusion as Whumper strolls through the door moments later, grinning as they ran their fingers across the sharp of a blade.

Prompt #108

Caretaker put Whumpee in the closet to hide from Whumper(s). Behind the door, Whumpee can hear the sound of struggle. What is worst is eventually the noises stop. The door is closed still, and Whumpee sits and waits, paralysed with fear. Until the closet door starts to open.

Is it Caretaker, a bit bruised and beaten up, but ultimately alright? Or is it Whumper, behind them the unconscious body of Caretaker?

Warning: Whips.

Musician whumpees being made to play/sing something for Whumper and their friends, but every time they make a mistake, it equals one whip. Whumpee then has to tally up how many whips that is afterwards.

It's the tension that gets them. The waiting, the fucking chill in their chest and twisting in their gut. The way that their muscles refuse to relax, the way they sit there braced for the assault they know is coming.

So they bait the whumper.

Sarcasm, insults, challenges to the whumper's oh so precious authority. If they're fucked no matter what they do, might as well get it over with. Might as well piss the bastard off so they can weather the fallout and have a moment of peace after.

So they smile through the fear, and they dare the whumper to do their worst.

Over and over and over.

Because the waiting is worse. The waiting is so much worse than anything else the whumper could ever possibly do to them.

Against a wall

For @scath001, who inspires me so much.

There are hands on their shoulders, turning them around and slamming them into the wall. They can feel the rough brick of the wall scraping against their cheek as they are pressed into it, face first. Their hands are yanked behind their back and they struggle, but their effort is futile and only earns them a sharp tug and a gasp of pain.

A hand tangles itself in their hair, pulling their head up until the pressure is painful. "Stay still," comes a whisper in their ear, their assailant's voice like the sharp edge of a knife, "or I'll make you regret it."

They grit their teeth and kick out at the figure behind them, but the grip on their hair only tightens, making them wince, and their legs are pinned down by the other's knee. They can't stop their hands from behind tied above their head, as they are shoved down to a kneeling position.

It's only when they feel the tip of a whip being dragged across the freshly bare skin of their back, and hear the quiet chuckle of their attacker, that they realise that they are truly afraid.

Whumpee wheezed in pain, panting and clutching at their stomach as well as they could with their wrists cuffed together. As they held the tender spot where whumper had just aimed their baseball bat, they were sure a horrible bruise would blossom there soon.

The sound of wood dragging across the floor accompanied by the purposeful tap of whumper’s footsteps snapped whumpee out of their musings, snapping up in alarm to face their assailant.

Whumper fiddled with the end of the bat, a faux look of concern on their face.

“Oh dear, is this starting to hurt? Is it more than you can take? Well, if you want me to stop, just tell me and I will!”

As whumper raised the bat over their shoulder, lining up for another hit, whumpee let out a pathetic, frustrated whine from behind their gag.

Trope: Locked in the Dungeon

Caretaker’s holding whumpee and gently stroking their hair, shushing them in a desperate attempt to keep them quiet from the panic and pain their injuries are causing.

At first, whumpee’s confused as to why caretaker is being so over-the-top coddling. 

Then, they hear strange footsteps lingering outside their door.

The moment a whumpee realizes they're about to be hurt. They're about to be hurt badly.

The stuttering of their heart. The sudden overwhelming dread. The split-second where they freeze up, desperate for a way out, but there is none.

They have just enough time to process how much they do not want this before it happens, and then the agony takes over everything else.

Whump Lottery

Every night, the whumpers hold a draw to see which whumpee will be the unlucky one that night. All of them lie anxious with bated breath, waiting for the slip of paper to be revealed. One of the whumpees can’t take it anymore and starts hyperventilating.

There’s no speaking of what happens after one of them is chosen.

There’s no speaking of how they curl up and refuse to talk after the whumpers throw them back in the cell close to morning. 

They all know what happens after the lottery. 

Now the whumpers are looking at the name on the slip with wolfish grins until they look at one whumpee who happened to be the lucky one last night.

“You sure seem eager to go two nights in a row.”

Prompt XXXIX

Whumpee couldn’t tear their eyes away from the whip. Their stomach swirled with fear. They could take a beating, heck, they practically provoked it. But this?

“No, please! I don’t care if you beat the hell out of me just not–”

“I know you don’t care. That’s why we need to keep things interesting. Keep you on your toes. You don’t want me to lose interest in you, right?”

The grip on their throat tightened in warning and eyes glanced up to Caretaker.

“No… I don’t,” they whispered.

my favorite thing about captivity/torture whump is just like…that initial anticipation. someone wakes up tied up in a shady basement or fancy hotel room or wherever with their enemy looming over them and they know, they know they’re going to get hurt, they don’t know how and they don’t know what exactly will happen to them, but they know they’re in a position of vulnerability and that this enemy is going to take full advantage of that and there’s nothing they can do about it. meanwhile the captor also knows this and they’re just reveling in the anticipation and the fear and basking in the full knowledge that they can do whatever they want to their captive, their mind is full of possibilities, but right now they just want to savor the fear. MMM i LOVE it i could just play that exact moment in my mind again and again  

Prompt IX

“Do it!” he bit, trying to twist back, to look over his shoulder back at Whumper. “What are you waiting for?”

“Just enjoying the view, hun.” Whumper’s eyes lingered over the trembling form. He took in every bit of fear radiating of off him, enjoying every bit of it, before he finally cracked the whip.