Coal

“Whumpee thinks caretaker is their new master” solid trope, 8.3/10, see it a lot.

But today I raise you:

“Whumpee thinks their new master is a caretaker”

Imagine a Whumpee, damaged but not entirely broken. Freshly tortured both physically and mentally, they just escaped their kidnapper and is about two seconds from breaking down.

So when a seemingly kind stranger picks them up off the side of the road, they didn’t even think twice about following them into their car.

But shit, they should have.

Whumpuary Day 9

Magic healing | Electrocution | Scars

Prev. || Masterlist

Emotional scars? Upcoming scars? Idk it’s very loosely prompted.

This is a while after the previous piece, not sure exactly how long. Couple months? I wanted a lot of space to fit some more torture whump in

Cw: set up for torture, past torture, past burning, blood, bruises, partial nonconish nudity (shirt), implied gore, mentioned vomiting, starvation, interrogation, self sacrifice for a cause, captivity setting

A sharp clap startled Noah out of his sleep, a soft blanket of unconsciousness he had burrowed himself under. He hadn’t had many restful sleeps recently, most ended with him jolting awake dripping with sweat and breathing like he’d just ran a mile, head pounding with the adrenaline of whatever nightmare that eventually startled him to wake. This time, though, he had finally managed to ease off into a dreamless void, finally allowing his worn body a chance to truly relax, and to begin recovering from the tension.

And of course, that’s the time Declan chose to come bursting into his cell, door slamming against the wall in all possible gusto, clapping his hands together like he was at a stadium cheering for his favorite team. The thundering sound ripped Noah away from any shred of comfort he had managed to settle into, causing him to jolt up with little attention to the drag it caused his body. His wounds had begun to heal over the past couple days, just barely, leaving the skin tender and taut, sensitive to just about everything, and the sudden movement might as well have ripped open each one individually.

“C’mon, up!” Declan ordered, crossing the small room in two short strides, barely giving Noah enough time to sit up before the man’s hand wrapped around his bicep, wrenching him out of bed. Noah gasped, a pain sharp and stabbing jolting from his injuries. He had been offered fresh clothes once he had woken from his first bout of unconsciousness, but his attempt to pull on the shirt had nearly left him crying, gasping as the fabric rubbed and pressed against his injuries. So he left it off, opting only to put on the shorts he had been left, the fabric long enough to brush against the healing burns decorating his thighs, but loose enough so that it didn’t press flush to his skin.

“Tie your Whumpee out in the cold with no shelter”- no.

Tie your Whumpee to a post, give them a few feet of slack in the chain. Make it pour, thunder, snow, whatever. Strip them to nothing but boxers and maybe a scrappy t-shirt, if you’re feeling nice.

Put a doghouse next to them. Close enough they could climb in and be fully out of the storm. But, do something to ensure it isn’t too comfortable. Hammer a few rusty nails through the boards, they won’t be able to see the jagged ends in the dark. Cover the floor with splinters or gravel that’ll dig into their flesh. Make it so that if they want to fit fully in the hut, the chain wrapped around the throat will be pulled a little too tight. Not enough so that it’ll choke them, but just enough so they can’t quite settle.

If they choose to go in the doghouse, have Whumper tease them relentlessly for it whenever they decide Whumpee’s had enough. Just imagine, they’re never getting out of that collar now. Or if they don’t, they choose to bear the storm rather than the humiliation, have Whumper walk out, tsk, and be all like “well, it couldn’t have been that bad, I guess you won’t mind another day or two”

Works particularly well with defiant whumpees, but really as long as they aren’t *fully* broken, it’ll have some effect

Whumpuary Day 4

Last Chance

Betrayal | Broken bones | Field med

Prev. | Masterlist

If anyone has any suggestions for what you any to see in the future for this story, please feel free to comment or send an ask! I’d like to get some feedback, so I can plan out what I want for this cause right now I’m pulling this out of nowhere and really don’t have any direction for the future

Cw: torture, electrocution, restraints, captured spy, thoughts/acceptance of death, self sacrifice for a cause

Those were the stupidest words Whumpee could have possibly said in that moment. Genuinely, the most brainless, idiotic thing. And the worst part, they had taken a moment to think about it, as well. They had thought about their response for a second, and instead of staying quiet, as the intelligent option would have been, or rather making some sort of witty comeback, they had said do your worst.

God, they wanted to kick themself. Not only had they branded themself as impulsive in that moment, but they had challenged Whumper. Tempted them. Their words had been paired with a smirk twisting across their otherwise empty expression, eyes locked against Whumper’s in a fight as to see who would glance away first.

Whumper had just given them a solemn look in return, their following words causing any sort of triumph to just melt away from Whumpee’s composure.

I like the idea of a Whumpee restrained with belts. Just such a common object, one they never would have expected be used in that way. Leather biting into their wrists, folded meticulously in over itself so they can’t break free. Perhaps another binding their elbows to their torso, pulled so tightly around them that it constricts their lungs, forcing their own limbs to press so hard into their sides they leave bruises.

It’s just such a fun, casual thought to play with. Perfect for impromptu kidnappings, failed escape attempts, whatnot. It’s just so demeaning and humiliating, it’s perfect.

Also, once Whumpee arrives wherever Whumper planned to bring them, in a situation they can’t escape from regardless of their physical bonds, Whumper can free them from the makeshift restraints then whip them bloody with the strip of leather. Make sure to hit them with the buckle a few times, especially if it’s one of those big, bulky metal ones. Those will leave some brutal marks.

Also like. Wrapping a belt around Whumpee’s neck to use as a makeshift collar/leash. Pulling it tight to choke them.

Belts as gags. No further comment.

Whumpuary Day 1

Discovered

failed escape | concussion | nightmares

Masterlist

Cw: guns, spy whump, death threat, mentioned murder, mentioned mass killings, weapons, corrupt businesses, slight invasion of privacy, a bit of self sacrifice in the name of a cause

Static filled Noah’s ear as he set his jaw, the sound crackling around his mind as their nerves spiked. A thousand doubts flooded his thoughts, but he didn’t break their confident stride, not letting a glimpse of his inner turmoil betray against their expression. He nodded to those they passed by, presenting his badge to a guard as he was stopped outside of the Northern wing.

The action had been done a thousand times before, without so much as a sweat, it was standard protocol. Anyone with a scheduled conference had to undergo the same procedure, to ensure the integrity of both Declan’s office, and the delicate information encapsulated within. Noah himself had been in there a dozen time in the past week, more often than any other employee of Declan’s. To be fair, Noah wasn’t just any other employee.

Noah was his right hand. Top of the ranks that he could possibly climb, the highest position of power one could render without money as an asset. Even with the disadvantage, the lack of funds to support them, Noah had still managed to get in close. Close enough where one wrong move, or rather, one right move could send the entire operation crashing to the ground. Would.

Uncertain

Cw: pet whump, isolation, restraints, forgotten about, captivity, restraints, mentioned torture, starvation, dehydration

Whumper tsked as they flicked on the basement’s lights, the sharp white glare cutting through the dark comforts of solitude. Whumpee nearly hissed, twisting their head away in a rushed attempt to shield their eyes. After so long their only companion had been the pressing darkness that filled the room around them, the light felt like daggers piercing through their pupils, little stabs cutting their mind.

“Oh, it’s been a while since I’ve been down here, huh?” They sighed, tone sounding more bored than remorseful as they took in the sight.

The basement wasn’t quite neat, to say the least. A tarp spread across a small portion of the room didn’t do much to help the aesthetic, rather placed there because Whumper couldn’t be bothered to scrub the blood off the concrete. The bare strips of industrial lighting were fixed to the ceiling, providing ample visibility, though Whumper wasn’t sure if that was a good thing in this particular scenario. The entire room was filthy, foul-smelling and gross, including its sole inhabitant. Whumpee looked almost worse than their surroundings, if that was even possible. Whumper was half-surprised as it was that they were still alive, honestly, they couldn’t remember the last time they had brought down something to eat.

“Well um, this is kind of awkward.” Whumper shifted on the balls of their feet, hand still braced against the staircase railing. Whumpee just shuddered, cringing away from the sound. Whumper wasn’t sure if they could even understand them, was it possible for someone to just.. forget? They supposed that would be possible, but Whumpee wasn’t down there that long. Maybe they were just ignoring them? Annoying, and quite frankly rude, but Whumper guessed that was warranted.

They couldn’t even remember what had prompted them to toss Whumpee down there, to chain them to the far wall and switch off the lights and forget about them. They were sure it had been something, probably backtalk or whatever, Whumper was sure they had planned to only leave them for a few days, but then they had just forgot. Gotten distracted by the new uprising of pet liberals, the subsequent occurring of marches and protests that drove their company which they worked for, designated around the collection and distribution of second-hand pets, they had been so focused on dealing with that bullshit that the fact that they had their own locked away had just slipped their mind.

Whumper bit the inside of their lip, half tempted to turn around, walk right back up those stairs, and continue to forget about this. They had spent so long before the whole incident trying to mold Whumpee into their perfect idea of a toy, not too defiant but not too submissive either, neither boring nor exhausting. Now, after weeks alone in the dark, Whumper wasn’t sure what to expect. Were they broken? Or did the time away build their tolerance, were they going to act up the moment Whumper brought them out.

“I uh.. I suppose you’ve learned your lesson?” Whumper hated the way their voice sounded uncertain. They weren’t an uncertain type of person. But this had them feeling nervous, unsure. Like they didn’t know. Whumper hated feeling like they didn’t know.

Whumpee didn’t answer, and they weren’t sure if that helped to confirm or deny their worries.

Teammate Caretaker taking care of Leader Whumpee after a particularly brutal fight.

Leader is typically the stoic kind, they’re not one to ever show weakness, but even they have to admit, this fight was bad. The entire team was beaten, bruised, they barely managed to pull through and win before the consequences were fatal. Leader, of course, took the brunt of the physical injuries, opting to play the role of a distraction so their teammates could gain the upper hand. This left them exhausted, injured, which they had usually been able to hide well from their team—or at least conceal the extent of. They were the leader, after all. If they were weak, then the team was weak.

So once they get back to base, they limp to their room and shut the door. Typically they’d lock it, but now with one hand pressed against the deep slash against their side, the other clutching onto their desk, dresser, windowsill, barely managing to keep them upright, it just slipped their mind.

Caretaker, however, noticed this. They didn’t talk much, but Leader would usually give some sort of speech after a battle, even if it was just a few words. Caretaker knew they were reclusive, but to completely skip out on what had been their set tradition, it was weird.

They walked to Leader’s door and knocked softly on the wood, calling out through the cracks in the frame, asking if they were okay. When the only answer they received was a strained “go away,” their hand moved to the handle and twisted. At first they were shocked to find it unlocked, but that surprise was quickly drowned out by the shock of the sight that greeted them.

Leader didn’t sit, so much as slumped against the floor by their bed, red smears all along the blankets on top and the floor below them. Their shirt was off, carelessly discarded in a heap on the ground. There was a first aid kit open, contents dumped out across the carpet as Leader clutched gauze to their side, the sterile white almost completely soaked through with red. That wasn’t the worst thing Caretaker saw, though. It was the dozens upon dozens of scars layered below the fresh wounds, some long old and faded, others still barely scabbed over.

“Go away,” Leader repeated, but the harshness in their tone didn’t have much of an effect as the words caused them to break into a coughing spell. When they turned back to glare, a small trickle of bloody saliva dripped from the corner of their swollen lip, streaking down their chin.

Caretaker quickly closed the door behind them, and moved to crouch by Leader’s side, close enough that if they reached an arm out they’d be able to touch, but far enough to still give them some distance.

“Leader, let me help you. Please.”

Delicate

Cw: noncon touching, creepy whumper, noncon kissing (cheek), knives, restraints, threats, vague implications, blood

Whumpee squirmed and writhed against the floor, sharp sobs scraping against their throat as they twisted, thrashing beneath their captor. The cold wooden planks pressed against their back, bruising with the pressure as Whumper’s knee pressed into their sternum. Pinning them against the ground. A wordless panic was all that filled their mind, snuffing out the last shreds of reason like a boot over a small flame as they begged and cried, words an incomprehensible jumble of their fragmented thoughts.

Their struggles were futile, barely managing to dislodge Whumper as they tried to kick them away, but with the way Whumper had positioned themself, Whumpee couldn’t even bring their knee to hit their back. Whumper’s cold hands wrapped around Whumpee’s wrists, and the pitiful fight was over, slamming them against the floor with twice more force than necessary.

“Stay. Still.” Whumper hissed, their nails biting into Whumpee’s flesh, drawing a pained whimper from their split lips. Chin painted red with blood that had only now partially dried, with every wrenching sob, new tears joined those streaked across their cheeks. Bits of pink saliva dripped from the corners of their mouth as they shrunk back against the floor, eyes squeezing shut as they cowered.

Whumper lowered their face to Whumpee’s, lips brushing against their cheek, trailing across Whumpee’s cheekbone to press against their ear. Breath hot, they whispered, adjusting their grip on Whumpee’s forearms, fixing to pin them with one hand while the other moved to their pocket.

“Don’t make this hurt more than it has to, sweetheart,” Whumper muttered, voice low and drawling as their fingers wrapped delicately around the handle of a small pocket knife. Flicking out the blade as they retracted their hand from their jacket. “Just be nice and good for me, darling, I’ll take care of you.”