The whump potential of a softly whispered "Easy..." Or "Easy now..."

Royal Whumpee has always been and always will be one of my favorites. Everyone hates them because why should they get to stay up in the bright palace? They're on the brink of war and yet the Royal is off at parties, laughing with the enemy. Embargos are starving the people and the Royal is having a feast. Most people can't afford to clothe themselves in anything other than rags and the Royal has servants upon servants to dress him in the morning. They wouldn't last a day out here in the real world.

Of course, only their closest servant knows that they haven't slept or eaten in days and if you entered their room, you would find them at their desk, surrounded by crumbled paper and letters, bargaining away their soul just for a few years of peace for their subjects, willing to do anything just to lift the embargo, greeting every request for them to rest or eat with a simple, "do not disturb my circles."

Whumpee with a mind control collar that only activates for Whumper's voice.

Whumpee learning to associate Whumper's voice with a complete and total loss of control.

Whumpee who feels uncomfortable and stifled, post rescue, if they have to wear anything around their neck.

Whumpee who, upon hearing Whumper's voice in public one day, mentally shuts down, wrenches themself away from Caretaker, and throws themself at Whumper's feet like they'd been trained to.

Whumpee with a shock collar but it’s genuinely just one for a dog so it has a safety release buckle and every time whumper tries to drag them around/yank them/shove them with it… it pops off

Neither of them are really expecting it to keep happening

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Tiny drops of water continuously fell from the pipe Whumpee's chains were attached to. The metal tube was old, rusted, and bent following many weeks of Whumpee struggling to free themselves from the icy iron shackles and the dank basement. The water drops were a new feature in Whumpee's misery, only appearing after a tiny hole broke through the now-brutally-angled metal pipe.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

At first, Whumpee was thrilled to have a source of water not meticulously controlled by Whumper, and to have made some progress in their escape. Hope bloomed in their chest that maybe they could brute-force their way out of their hellish predicament. This only lasted a couple of days, though.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

The water fell often times directly onto their head and neck, in a near perfect rhythm. It made it difficult to sleep, and so, difficult to heal in between torture sessions. Not to mention, Whumpee became dreadfully aware that their current place of residence was mapped directly underneath Whumper's shower.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Once, sometimes twice, a day water sprayed from the tiny hole onto the crown of Whumpee's head, drenching their hair, and reaching down the back of Whumpee's shirt. At night Whumpee would violently shake and sob as the moisture cooled their joints and made it impossible for their blood-drained and malnourished body to regulate its internal temperature, while tiny drops of water continued to leak. Guttural coughing forced its way out of Whumpee's throat as mold spread across the wood frames on either side of them for them to breathe in.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Where once Whumpee thought they had a chance of escaping upon noticing the busted pipe, Whumpee now dread the day that Whumper stormed down stairs, burst into the molding room with a sheet of paper listing the much-too expensive water bill that Whumpee no doubt had been the culprit of.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

If you have a team, let only one suffer;

Some experiments on the poor baby T-T

2/15 #mermay2024 #mermay 🧜🏼‍♂️ #whump

Whumper that never lies

Whumper that never lies. Think about it. Whumpee knows. Caretaker/Whumpee's team knows. Whumper says they'll never kill Whumpee, so Whumpee knows they're safe from death. Whumper says they won't hurt Whumpee today; Whumpee knows they'll get a break day. Whumpee begs for the torture to stop, so Whumper gives them an offer: Some today, some tomorrow, or none today, lots tomorrow. And Whumpee knows Whumper will follow through.

Whumper says they'll brand Whumpee? Whumpee doesn't bother begging for them to not, just for the brand to be somewhere inconspicuous. Whumper says they'll destroy Whumpee's legs? Whumper knows they'll never walk again.

Whumper sends a message to Caretaker/Whumpee's team, saying they have one week or they'll never see Whumpee again? They know they have to act, now, before they lose Whumpee forever. Does it matter that they may be walking into a trap, or to their doom? What choice do they have? The alternative is Whumper's guarantee.

A blessing and a curse, a Whumper that never lies. You'll know exactly what they will and won't do, but you know they mean it.

Caretaker is a new security worker at a prison. They want to help protect the peace. One day, as they're working as nightguard, they lean against a wall, triggering a secret door. They walk inside and find a stairs leading deep underground. Why would this be hidden? Caretaker worries as they walk down, holding a flashlight.

They find a cell at the bottom of the pitch black stair case. Inside, an immortal Whumpee has given up on life. They've been trapped down there for centuries with no light, no food, and no socialization. While they can't die, their body and mind rots away, leaving only a husk of a person. Caretaker has a million questions, but one lingers in their mind.

Should they help them?

Whumpee on their knees.

Whumper pushing whumpee down by their shoulders to their knees.

Whumper kicking whumpee's legs out from under them to get them to their knees.

Whumper pulling whumpee up from their belly to their knees.

Whumper grabbing whumpee by the collar and forcing them to their knees.

Whumpee bound up in a kneeling position.

Defiant whumpee finally, shamefully kneeling in front of whumper in defeat.

Broken whumpee eagerly falling all over themselves to kneel before whumper.

Whumper grabbing a kneeling whumpee's face and pulling it up to look at them.

Whumper standing menacingly over a kneeling whumpee.

the audible damage to a whumpee's voice from the harm that's come to them... hoarse and quiet from being choked, or from screaming until their voice gives out, or from crying so hard for such a long time. the raspy way everything is forced out, the way their voice cracks and squeaks, the way they wince and cringe and swallow hard before trying again. it hurts to listen to them.

they eyed the medicine spoon with bleary contempt, the heavy shadows under their eyes meeting the flush of their cheeks.

"don't you have... anything that tastes good."

their shaky voice, the hoarseness of their breaths, made their friend frown for an instant above them; but their hand with the spoon didn't falter.

" 'fraid not. but you can have more water, after."

they swallowed, grimacing, coughing a little as it went down. their eyelids sank, then fluttered open again, where they leaned against the crumpled pillows propping them up. "water. delightful..."

"if you stay awake I can make some meat broth." their friend sat on the edge of the bed, cup in hand. "anyway you need to drink more, you've been sweating so much."

"don't I... know it." they blinked again, forcing their eyes to focus. "you ...shouldn't be here. you'll get sick too."

"oh, so I ought have left you on the floor where I found you yesterday?" their friend said, hand steadying the cup at their mouth.

they drank, slowly, then seemed to register the words spoken and stopped to look up. "I was... on the floor?"

"like a rug."

"...oh." they licked at their cracked lips, then. "I don't remember... that."

"be more surprising if you did." their friend stood up, putting the cup to one side. "so unless you want to end up back there again, you should probably deal with my presence for a bit, and also my medicine."

amidst the pillows, they'd closed their eyes again, letting their heavy head fall to the side.

"I've got... some honey in the closet... with the tea. if you... don't mind."

"you're incorrigible," their friend said, and ruffled their hair before turning away - "what shelf?"

there was no answer, only the slow lengthening of their raspy breaths.

"oh, never mind, it can't be too hard to find."

Whumper didn't even try to hide the bruises.

As they lead Whumpee to the mirror, they finally gaze upon their reflection. Dressed in a silk gown, topped off with the finest jewlery, they look beautiful. Elegant. Broken.

They didn't bother to cover any of the bruises. Nor the cuts, nor the scars, for that matter. Every delicate fabric fold cascading down their body stands in contrast with their battered body. Green on red. Grace on pain.

This party will be bustling with people just as sick as Whumper, and Whumpee knows it. They won't help them. There's no escape, that is becoming clearer day by day.

Whumper tucks a lock of stray hair behind Whumpee's ear, and it feels odd for the hands that have caused so much pain to carress them so gently. Perhaps that's why they flinch. Tilting their head at Whumpee's reflection, Whumper simply smiles.

Whumpee is lying lifeless on the floor. Maybe due to loss of blood, maybe a brain injury - your choice.

Caretaker drops to their knees beside whumpee. Their hands shake as they hover over their body, trying to figure out where to start.

Just as they move to help, their vision blurs and they feel a pang of dizziness unsteady them. Something is wrong. Very wrong.

They realise they must have been drugged as they try to force their eyes to refocus. They can’t, and instead they slowly tip over onto their side.

Caretaker’s eyes close to slits and they watch as footsteps slowly approach, cheek glued to the floor from the sudden heaviness of their head.

No. This can’t be happening.

Whumper comforting Whumpee after torture.

They polish the bloody knife, place it back in its case, and walk back towards a cowering, shaking Whumpee.

Whumper pulls them into their arms, carefully caressing their face and playing with their hair. Whispering comforting phrases in their ear, yet they're still laced with the hint of a threat.

"Shh... shh... It's over for now."

"You look so pretty all covered in blood."

"You've taken it so well."

"You're so tired... don't fight me, I'm done for today."

"Those screams of yours... Good job, today's were so beautiful. I can't wait to see what tomorrow brings."

This soon becomes routine. At first, Whumper has to hold Whumpee down, they're thrashing around, scared and miserable and tired. Soon, that exhaustion overcomes them. They sink into the arms of the person that hurts them, allowing themselves the only comfort they'll ever receive now.

[haikaveh🌱🏛] love a little kidnap and rescue :3c

reblogging my whumpy stuff here as usual

Whumpay Day 3: Made A Lab Rat and Day 4: Vivisection

CW: self-cutting, restraints, kidnapping, mention of vivisection, female whumper, gender neutral whumpee