#whump prompts – @shywhumpauthor on Tumblr

Anonymous asked:

Hey! I'm currently in desperate need of some inspo for magical torture whump? My whumpee is thought to have a corrupted soul and needs to be "healed", kinda exorcism vibes. Any ideas maybe? :)

Hey! I’m sorry this list is so short, I ran out of time but I wanted to give you something. I could follow up with some more ideas later if you’d like!

Anything with fire/burning. Hot iron rods, magic restraints that are always burning hot, being kept near/exposed to fire to “burn out the evil” or something
Branding / carving certain sigils into their skin, ones associated with healing / goodness, etc
Sensory deprivation with some sort of physical violence. Chain them up by their wrists, ankles chained to the floor, blindfolded, gagged, ears covered so they can’t hear. Then add something like caning, cutting, or just a general beating.
I feel like whipping in general would work to some extent, and that that is often associated with what you’re kind of going for.
On the opposite hand as earlier, freezing. Force them into a tub of ice water, shove their head under, dump buckets over them, cold is cleansing after all, right?
Poisons, harmful elixirs, stuff of that sort

#whump #whumpblr #whump community #its me coal #whump prompt #whump prompts

shywhumpauthor

You Can’t do This

Cw: kidnapping, restraints, torture, mentioned mouth/eye whump (doesn’t actually happen), non-con touching, knives, threat of asphyxiation/choking

“Wait- wait,” Villain sputtered, the words tripping over their tongue, snagging in the back of their throat. “You can’t- Hero, this is illegal- you can’t do this!”

They twisted their wrists against the restraints that bound them to the chair, flexing their fingers to try to relieve a fraction of the pressure. The movement only pushed the cables deeper into their skin, dragging a hiss from their clenched teeth.

A warm hand wrapped around their neck from behind, turning their exhale into a wheeze as their head was shoved against the back of the chair.

“Since when have you cared much about what’s legal?” Hero responded, amusement adding a drawl to their words. They circled the chair, grip on Villain’s neck adjusting so their palm lay against the villain’s wind pipe, fingers digging into the sensitive skin on the side of their neck. Just enough pressure to fear, for Villain to feel the threat of their airway being crushed, but not enough to cut off their breathing. Not yet.

#whump #whumpblr #whump community #whump writing #its me coal #coal wrote something #whumpee #whumper #whump prompt #whump prompts #hero whumper #villain whumpee

shywhumpauthor

Nothing will ever amount to the use of the term “your highness” in whump contexts. Whether it’s used as Whumpee finally surrenders to a Whumper, or if it’s a snarky remark to show that they aren’t broken yet, or even a title the Whumper uses to mock Whumpee’s position, there is nothing better. Nothing even close.

#whump #whumpblr #whump community #whump prompt #whump prompts #its me coal #coal wrote something #royal whump

shywhumpauthor

When a Whumpee falls and is trying to push themself back up but right as they begin to get their hands beneath them a boot plants firmly on their back, knocking them to the ground >>>>>>

#whump #whumpblr #whump prompt #whump prompts

shywhumpauthor

Unsteady

Cw: injuries, concussion, brief moments of nausea/vomiting, blood

The room swayed as Villain stumbled past the doorway, lurching with each uneven stagger. They shook off their bag, barely hanging from one elbow, landing heavily on the floor with a thud.

They kicked the door shut clumsily with the back of their heel, a yelp almost slipping from their lips as the movement nearly sent them toppling. A pulse hammered in their head, behind their temples and by the base of their skull. Their jaw ached terribly, lips parted and a small trickle of pink tinted saliva dribbling from the corner. They didn’t have to look in the mirror just to the side of the small entryway to know a bruise was swelling from their chin, creeping up their cheek, blood pooling in a deep maroon beneath the skin.

Hero hadn’t been there to fool around.

Villain’s coordination was off, their hand slipping against the doorframe as they reached for the lock. It took them another try to get the doorknob lock done, and three more before they could slide the deadbolt properly in place.

The first step they took down the hall sent them sprawling sideways, their shoulder knocking against the mirror, dislodging it from the wall. They fell with the glass, a ragged cough tearing from their lips as the mirror shattered against the floor, pieces of their reflection scattering across the wood like shards of fallen stars. A sharp sting had them fumbling again, their vision blurring before focusing on their outstretched palm. A piece of glass had embedded itself in the heel of their palm, speckling the night sky with small eclipses of red.

As soon as their sight focused, a wave of nausea sent them lurching forwards, heaving in their effort to suppress a gag. The world tilted again, spinning around them like a solar system. Their broken reflection, unclear eyes staring at them twisted like planets, stars. Villain threw a hand against the ground, swaying with the motion that knocked them over. They barely felt the sting as glass cut into their hand, curling over to let their head fall to their knees.

Impending clouds twisted across the sky, clouding the stars until all they were left with was a churning sea of darkness.

shywhumpauthor reblogged

justbreakonme

I love super strong/jacked caretakers with weak or tiny whumpees, especially with the Whumpee-thinks-caretaker-is-their-new-master trope.

The whole “I just have to pray that they mean it when they say they’re not going to hurt me because it would be so easy for them”

“They could kill me without even trying.”

“They’re only being so merciful because they know I’m too weak to fight back so they don’t need to waste their time…”

And of course the caretaker-uses-their-strength-for-good and beats whumpers ass, and suddenly whumpee realizing that, yes, caretaker was a formidable master, but…a protective one too.

shywhumpauthor

Okay this but also reversed

Give me a super strong (or at least, used to be) Whumpee. Even starved and beaten and half dead when caretaker first finds them, they look like they could snap a person’s neck with a single hand.

Caretaker has morals, which is the only reason they really rescued Whumpee. They were terrified that any second, now that they were no longer bound with chains, Whumpee would snap. They were hurt and scared, Caretaker knew that, and they could only pray that this trauma wouldn’t present itself in anger.

Maybe Whumpee, who is thoroughly broken and conditioned, mistakes this apprehension for dislike, and does everything they can to try and get caretaker to like them. They do their best to obey every order or menial task they’re given, constantly hunching over trying to make themself smaller so Caretaker doesn’t hate them as much.

I could write a lot more for this but I’m tired and can’t really think but there’s so much potential in both of these dynamics it’s just. So good.

#I might write a whumptober day for either of these #whump #whumpblr #whump community #whump writing #other’s writing #whump prompt #whump prompts

shywhumpauthor

Landline Part 7

Just a Plant

Prev. / Masterlist

Cw: kidnapping, gaslighting, creepy whumper, multiple whumpees, abuse, verge of a breakdown, emotionally overwhelmed whumpee. I didn’t even read this over, it’s been in my docs app for months. Let me know if I missed something, I probably did.

Coriander was a good thinker.

They didn’t do it often, as sheer impulsivity and impatience were typically the first to arise, but when they had time to allow the reason to settle, they were able to instill order. They could sort and file their thoughts, their emotions, pack them away and shove them into small, orderly boxes in the dark corners of their mind, only to be opened in the dead of night when sleep seemed to avoid them.

For a while they say there, on the edge of the bed, thinking. Or rather, not thinking. Pushing the thoughts away as they came, knowing that if they let one linger, it would only be a matter of time before the whole flood broke loose.

They didn’t bother trying the window. They already knew it wouldn’t open, they didn’t need to test it. Maybe they could break the glass. Some other time they would try. Not now.

At some point they laid down. Their legs hanging off the side of the bed in the same manner they had when sitting, Coriander turned their head to feel the cool of the comforter press against their cheek. They allowed the motion to soothe them, to calm the flushed heat that had built under their skin. So much had gone wrong, they knew the only thing they had right now was to take solace in the things that weren’t entirely wrong. They could focus on the truths of the situation. They could fixate on how this wasn’t their bed, how this wasn’t their house, how somewhere two floors below their feet was curled in a dark, damp basement, injured and bound. They couldn’t allow the thoughts of how they were trapped, stranded in the middle of nowhere, with nothing but this awful house and its awful owner, to flood their mind any further than they were already creeping towards the edges.

If the did, they would break down.

And Coriander wasn’t sure if they’d be able to put themself back together.

shywhumpauthor

Cheap

I started writing this with the intent of it being whump, but well- read it, you’ll see. Not really whump, but I’m still tagging it as such.

Cw: violence, manhandling.

A strangled gasp clawed its way from the hero’s throat, raking against their windpipe as pain exploded from their sternum. The force of the blow knocked them back, stumbling against the wall as the breath rushed to leave their lungs. Brick snagged at the back of their uniform, uneven edges of the stone trying to twist its hold on them by the threads.

Cheap shot. That’s what it was. That’s what Villain was. That cheap, petty, good-for-nothing, disreputable asshole. They fought dirty, like the fucking rat they were. Not an ounce of self-respect to their technique, they would fight tooth and nail. Hero had the scratches, weeping blood down their cheek from where Villain’s fucking claws caught them—when was the last time they cut their goddamn nails? Not to even talk about how much grime was certainly on their hands, Hero was appalled anyone, especially the street rat criminal who practically lived to scrounge around the disgusting alleys, would dare touch anything in the city without gloves on.

Tears welled in their eyes without will, Hero rapidly blinked them back as they pushed themself forwards. Their chest burned, breath lodging in their throat as they used the wall to brace themself in the moments preparation before they lunged back at Villain.

Hands caught their shoulders, but instead of the shove backwards they were anticipating and already planning for, they were tugged forwards, their momentum used in a cruel twist as a knee was brought up to meet their stomach. Hero choked out a gasp, a shock jolting back through their body ad they were manhandled back up and slammed against the bricks. Their head hit back against the wall, without any distance to try and ready themself. Specks of white buzzed in the corners of their eyes, pain like cracking cement ripping through their skull. It dazed them, for a moment too long. Villain’s hands ripped down their arms, calloused fingers wrapping around their wrists and steeling in place like iron. Twisting their arms up and shoving them against the red stones, pinned to either side of the hero’s head.

Then they could feel Villain’s breath against their cheek, warm and intrusive and wrong, their lips so close they almost brushed the shell of Hero’s ear as they leaned in-

“Oh my little Hero,” Villain whispered, their voice so quiet left a resounding echo humming through their mind. They slowly drew back, leaving a numb prickling spreading across their skin as a sudden cold replaced the unwanted heat. They stopped, eyes level with Hero’s. “When will you ever learn? You can’t win against me.”

On any other day, Hero would’ve fought back. They would’ve stomped down on Villain’s foot and returned the blows with the same graceless disorder Villain fought with. But they were tired. Their body hurt and their head buzzed with exhausted anger and what was certainly the forming of one hell of a headache.

But instead they just stood there, letting their head fall back an inch to rest against the brick. Let the criminal take on their weight as they pressed their body against theirs. If Villain was to step back, they’d crumple.

Then slowly, with a certain care to contrast the brutality of the blows they had dealt, Villain shifted Hero’s wrists to one hand, pinning them to the wall above their head while their free hand dipped down to brush along Hero’s jaw, the back of their finger tracing a swelling bruise on their jaw.

“I told you,” Hero murmured, their exhaustion seeping into their tone as Villain’s hand follow the outline of the scratches across their cheek, a nail brushing just outside the bleeding edge. A warmth of touch to battle the chill air. “Not- not the face,”

Villain’s fingers curled beneath their chin, a thumb smoothing softly over a spot on Hero’s wrist.

“Oh love, I’m sorry,” Villain’s eyes softened, tilting the hero’s head to the side as their eyes flicked over the shallow wounds. They leaned in, pressing their lips to Hero’s jaw carefully over the forming bruise. “But when have I ever listened to anything you’ve had to say?” A whisper of the taunt returned to their voice, visible in the spark behind their adoring gaze.

Hero only sighed, the night cold fading into a soothing warmth that bled across their skin as Villain’s hand slipped down to cup their neck, their eyes fluttering closed as the villain guided them in and brought their lips together.

Tomorrow, they’d fight back. Tomorrow they’d repay Villain everything they’d dealt and more.

But tonight- tonight Villain won.

And Hero was alright with that.

#whump #whumpblr #whump community #whump writing #its me coal #coal wrote something #whumpee #whumper #whump prompt #whump prompts #hero x villain #villain x hero #heroes and villains #villain and hero #hero and villain #villains and heroes #hero/villain #hero whump

shywhumpauthor reblogged

shywhumpauthor

I had the whumpiest dream Omfg someone remind me to post about it I don’t have time rn

shywhumpauthor

Quick cw: brief mention of gore, murder, kidnapping, violence

OKAY SO

There was this group of people, I don’t remember specifically what they were doing but they were your standard villains plotting to overthrow the city. They were also like a family, mostly biological but some of the older ones were just really close friends, partners, whatever. There was this guy, and his parents were the ones in charge of the whole operation. In the dream I know I wanted to think that he was a good guy, and that he was just part of their plan because he didn’t have any other choice, but I’m pretty sure he had a choice and chose to carry on the family legacy.

I was a part of some agency, currently in the team that was working to take down the villains. We were able to track down a part of their operation, the smaller financial branch (they were very organized and planned out, it was very difficult) and it was this little coffee shop cafe place, like the ones you would expect in a small town. Friendly staff, warm lighting, reading nooks, smells like pumpkin spice in the fall (it was late fall, turning to winter, cold outside. Important detail for later). Generally just completely inconspicuous, except their deposits didn’t match their income, and when you tracked the bank records there’s all these little details that you would t notice unless you were looking that just don’t add up. So we have someone stake it out for a while from a distance, we aren’t able to prove anything so then we plan to send someone in. Of course I’m chosen, because what kind of dream would it be if I wasn’t the main character, so we plan for all that and I go.

I get dropped off like a mile and a half away because we can’t have them track us. I walk around the city for a while, maybe an hour or so, before finally going into the shop. Remember how I said it was late fall? It was cold as hell out, and I was cold even though I had a jacket (to hide the wire and the mic I had). It’s almost evening, about an hour from close and the shop is pretty dead. There’s an old man at the counter talking quietly to one of the waitresses. I seat myself at the booth closest to the fire (one of those fake fires encased in glass that’s also a heater so it feels like a fire—you know)

About a minute later, the guy from before that I talked about, the son, comes over (he also works there, I recognize him) and he’s like literally the sweetest guy ever. He brings a mocha and explains that it’s on the house cause I looked cold and I’m immediately suspicious but he seems pretty genuine and from all the research I’ve done he doesn’t seem to be too deeply involved with all of the murder and robberies his family is accounted for. There’s no way he could know who I am, I’m not anyone. I’m not a public figure of the agency, I worked from a second location, I’m literally a nobody. I obviously see the opportunity to take advantage of this (and let’s be honest, that’s not all) and we talk for a little bit, he takes my order and goes back. And the mocha is fucking amazing.

He comes back with my food, we talk a bit more and it’s going great. Not important chatter but u can kinda tell something is forming. I’m also paying attention to the old man and the waitress who are a bit deeper in conversation, it seems to be getting tense. I pay for my food and then leave after a while, when other people come in like ten minutes before close and he goes to help them.

Blah blah time passes, I give my report, they analyze the audio files and review everything, all the fun stuff. I tell them about the guy and the waitress and how I thought that was kind of suspicious. One of my teammates (of course he was about the same age as the guy at the cafe—what dream wouldn’t be complete without a love triangle) kinda teases me about the other guy. Literally just a YA novel—just wait, it gets better I promise stick with me.

Two days later, some random fisherman finds a severed and burned leg in a lake. After more searching, police discover the rest of the body, scattered through the lake and the rivers that flow into it. Each part is completely mutilated and tied in separate trash bags. After investigation, it’s discovered to be the man from the diner.

I’m going to skim over the rest cause I’m getting tired of typing. I go back to the diner a couple more times over the next few weeks, the guy is still really friendly. After the third or fourth time, he writes his number on the back of the receipt. After a bit of discussion with the team, and a bit of personal incentive, I text him and we get to talking even more. Time passes, I investigate, every time I go to the diner I gather a bit more info. It’s never enough, never much, but every little piece helps. With his number, we can track the ip address, his location, calls and all that crap. He doesn’t go to the main base, that much is clear because he’s always within ten or fifteen miles in the city, so he goes to an apartment (we also investigate that. Seems all normal and stuff)

I’m not sure exactly how or when it happens, but one time I go to the diner and he’s not there. The waitress is though (she’s not in uniform, but she’s behind the counter), and two different guys at a booth that I don’t recognize. It’s only four in the afternoon but the diner looks closed, only the lights on but no coffee machine running, the heater is off. I can only remember a little bit from here out but I know the woman had a gun. I’m so pissed off I don’t remember the kidnapping because it had so. Much. Potential. And I know there was one, but next thing I can remember is their house. It’s a big house, not a mansion but big. Its in a very rural, wooded area (because thats where all the best kidnapping houses are) It’s lived in but pretty empty.

The room I’m taken into is completely empty, it looks like maybe a den or something but it doesn’t have any furniture. Beige walls, fairly high ceiling, hardwood floors with a dark tarp centered in the room. I’m tied to a chair, there’s people all around me. I know most of the faces from all of the files I’ve investigated, but there’s some I don’t. I remember seeing the guy in the back, standing by the open doorway. He looks confused and almost nervous, watching the woman as she monologues in front of me. Not sure what she was saying, but it was probably something along the lines of how stupid I was to think I could spy on them, how any information I’ve gathered has been information they’ve planted to throw us off track, blah blah. It ends with her ripping the mic off from where I had it hidden and saying “I hope their life was worth it” to my team before dropping it and crushing it beneath her boot.

I remember seeing a knife, but then I woke up and I have never been so pissed to hear an alarm. There was so much fucking potential, I’m so sad I can’t remember more.

I’m going to count this as a prompt, so if anyone would ever be interested in maybe writing something based off it (hint hint nudge nudge, or I might write it one day maybe) just credit me and go right ahead!!

shywhumpauthor

A Whumper with fire powers branding their Whumpee not just with their name or initials, but their handprints.

Two palms scarred against either side of Whumpee’s neck, fingers wrapping around their throat in a collar that can never be removed. Hands on their sides, just below their broken ribs, a touch that will never relent. Fingers wrapped around their wrists in shackles that won’t be unlocked. A handprint against their face, cupping their cheek that had already suffered so many punches. The small of their back. A single hand just between their shoulder blades. Dragging down their thighs.

Just. Branded handprints.

shywhumpauthor

A Whumpee who is so overworked, physically and mentally, that everything hurts. It hurts to walk, it hurts to move, it hurts to think. They are so damn tired they feel like they could drop. They’re working physically over fourteen hours a day, spending at least another five dealing with logistics like paperwork and conferences. It feels they are going to die if they have to take another goddamn step.

And then give them so much shit they have to do, completely unavoidable they genuinely can’t not do it, so the few moments of rest they actually have are completely consumed with thinking about how they only have twenty more minutes before they need to get back to work, they can’t sleep now because that’ll only make things so much worse when they have to wake up in fifteen minutes, they really should be laying down with their last ten minutes of break but hell they should also put together something to eat, and crap there’s not even five minutes left why bother to lie down they just have to get up.

Bonus points if it’s some kind of hero Whumpee and they know that they have to do this all day every day and their only reprieve will be their scheduled weekend off in a month and a half.

#bonus bonus points if they get kidnapped and just start crying #not cause they’re sad or scared but cause they finally get a break #yeah the whole “getting tortured” part sucks but that’s barely four hours out of a day every other day #the rest of the time they’re just left alone in their quiet cell #there’s even a little mat in the corner and a blanket. they actually get to sleep and rest #they don’t make any efforts to escape. for a while they hope they won’t get rescued #whump #whumpblr #whump community #whump writing #its me coal #coal wrote something #whumpee #whumper #whump prompt #whump prompts #whump tropes #whump trope #whump ideas #whump idea #hero whump #hero whumpee #writing prompt #writing prompts #exhaustion whump #overworked whumpee #aha this is what band camp feels like #I don’t think I’m gonna make it to Friday /srs #i feel so awful #but it’s mandatory I can’t miss it

shywhumpauthor

Nothing better than a Whumper who wears thick, heavy rings backhanding a Whumpee across the face, the rubies that decorate their fingers splitting a gash across Whumpee’s cheek

And the little gasp that follows the impact

shywhumpauthor

Whump aesthetic of the day: a Whumpee having a coughing fit, but it’s so bad they can’t manage to inhale which makes it so they can’t cough right which only makes them need to cough more so they’re stuck in this awful cycle of choking on their own spit and breath

shywhumpauthor

Distant

Cw: past and present torture, scar/body shaming, self depreciation, isolation, all hurt/no comfort, creepy whumper, emotional manipulation, gaslighting, noncon touching, extremely vague implications of potential non-con relationship

They separated themself because of their work. That’s what Leader told themself. Getting caught up in the dynamics of the team would only ever be a distraction from the job they had to focus on.

They put distance for a reason. They only interacted the others during meetings or missions. They ate, slept, and planned in their own chambers, far away from the common area that the team shared. They didn’t talk with them, only giving orders when necessary. They led the team, strong even from afar. They were efficient and calculated with everything they did. It wasn’t isolation, it was tactic.

Any personal connections would only distract them, cloud their work and blur the lines between strictly coworkers and the strong familial bond that the others seemed to share. Sometimes Leader would walk by, only reason they were outside their own room being some sort of necessity, and see them. All of five of them, huddled on a couch barely big enough to fit three people, laughing and fooling around as some movie droned on the television. A few plush throw blankets shared among the group. A bowl of popcorn balanced in Teammate’s lap, while Youngest reached over Medic to grab a handful. A loud, shared laugh when that popcorn flew a moment later and smacked Hero in the face.

Leader had walked in and snatched the remote, clicking the TV off.

“We leave at five tomorrow,” they snapped, their lips pressing together as they fixed a glare across the team. Watching as each of their eyes dropped in turn.

“Sorry, Leader,” Right Hand muttered, their posture straightening as they sat up and pushed the blanket off their legs.

shywhumpauthor

Hi if your character uses a bow and arrow as their main weapon cut off their middle fingers. Trust me with this

#whump #whumpblr #whump community #whump writing #its me coal #coal wrote something #whumpee #whumper #whump prompt #whump prompts #no more tags cause I’m too lazy to type them

shywhumpauthor

Outnumbered

Hey who wants a shitty little snippet? I hate this

Cw: implied kidnapping, injuries, manhandling, multiple creepy whumpers, noncon touching

The rough edges of the bricks scraped Hero’s back as they were shoved against the alley wall. A sharp rush of air knocked from their lungs, the impact stealing away their breath as they scrambled to brace themself, keep from falling. The jagged red stones clawed at their uniform, raised corners reluctant to release them as they tried to push away, biting their palms and splitting their fingertips.

Their gasp quickly turned to a yelp as hands found their shoulders, slamming them back against the wall. Their head cracked against the stone, hard enough to send a sharp pain sparking across the back of their skull. The impact left them stunned, only for a moment but that was enough time for Villain’s hands to rip down to their forearms, gloved fingers wrapping completely around Hero’s wrists to push them back against the bricks, even with Hero’s head.

Hero’s knuckles scraped against the brick and they hissed, skin splitting open against the uneven wall. Villain’s arms were to either side of their vision, boxing them against the wall. Their fingertips dug against the others’ wrists, a bruising pressure. Hero’s heart thudded in their chest, pulse hammering in their skull where their head had hit.

For a moment, the villain didn’t move. They looked down, panting heavily as they grinned at the trapped hero.

“Too easy,” Villain laughed, leaning in closer so Hero could feel their breath against their cheek, hot and violating as Villain’s grip tightened around their wrists. Hero shrunk back, a shudder rippling down their spine, only prompting the villain to push closer.