My Congrats On The Follower Milestone. For The Whump Ask Thing, Perhaps This Dialogue?

My congrats on the follower milestone. For the whump ask thing, perhaps this dialogue?

“My dear Leader, you think you have all the choices right now but really you only have two. You or them? Choose carefully.l

thanks im continuously surprised by how many people put up with my shenanigans <2

cw: creative license was used for this prompt oops, branding, forced to choose, creepy whumper, prisoner whump, team whump, mentions of past torture, implied flogging, restraints and manhandling

Leader had stopped caring. About anything, really. So when the guards chained his hands above him, he let them.

He was past caring. He stared at the tiles with dead eyes. His heart pulsed slowly, each moment dragged out. It was funny, how quickly, everything could fall apart.

Very human fingers brought him out of his mind, grabbing his chin and forcing his face upwards. 

Leader stared at Supervillain. Once– it felt long ago, but it couldn’t have been that long– he would have jerked away from the touch. Snarled a curse. But now he simply couldn’t bring himself to care. So, he took it.

Some of that sentiment must have betrayed itself in Leader's expression because Supervillain's grip tightened, nails breaking skin. “Tired, hm?" They dropped the young man's chin and ran a hand through the strands, the touch deceptively soft before tightening. Supervillain yanked Leader's head up by his hair, forcing him to look straight ahead. "Pay attention."

Two guards brought in a cauldron of burning coals, an iron ominously sticking out. Leader again felt its phantom pain, his side throbbing under its memory. He winced. He couldn’t help it. That– that had hurt. For days. 

There was a brief flicker of sarcasm.

Been there, done that.

It had been a while since Supervillain had resorted to anything so violently painful.

He could take it. 

He’d taken worse. 

Still, Leader did not look at the iron. Or the coals. He stared straight ahead and tried to remember how breathing worked. 

Supervillain smiled down at him like they knew something he didn't. Once the thought appeared, he couldn’t get rid of it. Something was different. Bile worked its way up his throat.

Something was wrong. 

Leader suppressed a shudder.

Before he could take another breath, the other shoe dropped.

A fourth guard carried a bleeding figure into the room. She dropped her burden unceremoniously onto the cold tiles before the cauldron with the branding iron.

The captive's head hit the floor with a sickening thud. They didn’t move. 

Supervillain glanced from the new arrival to Leader, wondering idly when he would make the connection. 

Leader's eyes widened in horror.

Supervillain's smile lit up the room. "Ah, yes. Took you long enough to put two and two together." They leaned in to whisper in Leader's ear. "I found them...oh so alone. A shame, really."

To Leader, the world was spinning and it wouldn’t stop. His vision blurred. 

Surely the captive, with terrible lacerations down their back, barely conscious, visibly shaking– surely, that wasn’t, of all people, Whumpee. 

God. 

Leader made a strangled noise in his throat– a silent scream– like someone had punched him. 

Supervillain stepped back, more than pleased with themself, and beckoned to their guard. They whispered something and the guard nodded. 

Leader couldn’t rip his gaze away from the shaking form that was left of Whumpee. 

Oh.

Oh god.

Leader hadn’t realized he was crying until the tears blurred his vision. He had failed his team. He had failed at the one job he had.

Leader threw up then. His throat burned. Then again, so did his eyes. “Whumpee?” he whispered, the name barely loud enough to be heard. 

No response. 

“What did you do to them?” This too, was whispered. 

No one answered that, either. 

The guard grabbed Whumpee, hauling them to their feet roughly. They cried out when the guard's hands dug into the lashes on their arms.

Leader stiffened. “Let go of them.” Some of the old command worked its way into his voice. 

Supervillain lit a cigarette and flipped the lid of their lighter closed with a flick of their wrist. They nodded to the guard, ignoring Leader.

Immediately, two more guards grabbed Whumpee, shoving them to their knees and bending their arms to awkward angles behind their back. 

Whumpee flinched, shrinking away from their touch. "Please-- P-please don't---"

And Leader snapped. 

That was Whumpee they were manhandling. One of his team. Someone who had stood by him through thick and thin. Someone who had, once, trusted him.

Leader lunged forward. “Don’t touch them! Don’t–” another lunge, the chains digging into his wrists, “Touch them!” 

Supervillain exhaled a breath of smoke. “What an unusual display from you,'' Their voice was sharp, “Pull yourself together.” 

Leader did not pull himself together. He continued to yank against the restraints, all semblance of aloofness gone. “Supervillain, let them go! I’ll do anything. Please!” 

And he meant it. 

Supervillain crouched down beside Leader to exhale another breath of smoke. This time, in Leader's face. “My dear Leader, you think you have all the choices right now but really you only have two." They lowered their voice. "You or them?"

Leader paled to the color of bone. “You– you can’t be serious."

"You remember the branding iron, don't you?" Supervillain's smile was shark-like, bright in the darkness. “You know what that’s like.” They pressed a cold hand against Leader's abdomen, their nails digging into the sensitive skin.

The brand’s phantom pain spread through his entire rib cage, lacing around his bones and coating them, again, in fire. 

Leader stiffened, blood turning to ice in his veins. Fuck. His mouth went dry as he looked from Whumpee, limp in the guard's grip, to the branding iron, red-white against the coals. Again, the floor dropped out from below him, leaving him spiraling.

It took all of his strength to find his voice. "I'll take it."

Supervillain stood up. They grinned. "You know what? You've managed to fuck up my plans so many times...yes, I think I'd like to watch you fuck up for once."

Leader didn't understand. "W-what?"

Supervillain ruffled his hair, patchy and bloodstained. "You never had a choice, dear."

Leader lunged against the chains. “No!” he shouted. “No! I said I would do it--”

His wrist made a snapping sound even as he threw himself again, and again. His voice gave out, cracking into a sob. "Fuck you--"

The guards chained Whumpee to the wall, tightening them to the point until stones dug into Whumpee's raw back.

Leader cursed every foul name when Supervillain picked up the branding iron.  "Don't-- Don't you dare!"

But when Whumpee screamed his name, begging him to make it stop, please, Leader went feral. He struggled frantically-- uselessly. He had never been more useless. The chains did not relent and the hand that held the brand was steady. Crimson blood traced a silky path down his arm, dripping to the tiles.

Whumpee's pleas fell on deaf ears. 

There was the horrible smell of burning skin. 

And a scream.

Leader would never forget that scream. 

Supervillain pulled the brand away, and Whumpee slumped forward, unconscious. Supervillain undid their restraints and let them collapse to the ground, stepping around them with a flicker of disgust. 

They ordered the guards to undo Leader's chains. “There’s not much damage he can do in here," they said.

And they left Leader alone with the battered captive, their still form twitching under the curling remnants of agony. 

Leader dropped down beside Whumpee, knees hitting the floor with all the force of a guillotine dropping. He worked quickly, taking off his own shirt and ripping it apart– first bandaging the brand and then trying to stem the blood from the flogging. It was a messy job and he did it poorly, with only the expertise of having previously done the same work on himself. 

Whumpee's eyes remained closed. 

Despair crouched inside Leader and it smiled. It smiled like Supervillain. Leader cried then. Hoarse sobs that ripped his vocal chords to shreds. 

Whumpee stirred. They exhaled softly– a small groan escaping their lips. They squeezed their eyes shut like they were still hoping this was some nightmare they could escape. 

Leader's voice was gone. He could say nothing. Provide no comfort. No reassurance. It was with hesitant movements that he moved Whumpee's head onto his lap, shielding them with his body as much as he could.

Please tell me you’re alright. 

Tell me we’ll be alright. 

Whumpee's entire body shook.

Nothing was alright.

Whumptober 2023 | Day 10 | The Bee’s Whumptober Masterlist 

“Can’t you see that you’re lost without me?”

Broken Phone | Stranded | “You said you’d never leave.”

CW: yandere whumper, maybe broken bone, kidnapping, noncon drugging, syringe

------------

Whumpee held their phone up to the sky, waving it around fruitlessly as they squinted up at the screen, hoping to be blessed by tiny bars of cell service gracing the hotbar of their phone. No such luck. They groaned much too loudly, enough that their friend would overhear and hopefully come to their heroic rescue.

“WhumpeeEERRRRRRR,” they called out, imitating a particularly annoying preschooler they used to hate. “There’s no signal. If you were gonna take me camping in the middle of nowhere, the least you could do is provide high-speed wifi.”

“Mm, yeah, my mistake, many apologies, m’lord.” Whumper deadpanned with a smirk as they scouted out the campsite, matching Whumpee’s banter. “I’ll take you to the Bermuda Triangle next time. Even less service there, so I’ve heard. ”

Whumpee let out an exaggerated gasp. “You wouldn’t! That's it, I’m canceling you on Twitter!”

“Right.” They made their way over to Whumpee, leaning against the car with their arms crossed, head tilted to the side. “And how exactly do you plan on doing that without cell service?”

“As soon as we get the high-speed wifi I requested, it’s over for you.”

“But then you couldn’t cancel me for not getting you wifi because you’ll have wifi, right?”

“Don't try to sway me with such trivial things as facts and logic!” Whumpee decreed hautilily. "You must be punished for your crimes. Your execution will be glorious!”

Whumper grinned despite their exaggerated tough guy act. Whumpee always knew how to make them smile. Their heart had been racing ever since they left, wondering if they were making the right choice here. They could still back out, just have a regular nice, normal camping trip with Whumpee.

But no. Whumper had to bite their lip to not fully oggle at Whumpee as they stood on the edge of the trunk, bantering without a care in the world. A warm all-consuming pressure filled Whumper’s chest and they had to make a physical effort not to squeal like a child when their crush noticed them for the first time. Soon they would have this all the time. This was the right choice.

They jumped up to join Whumpee on the lip of the trunk, awkwardly slouching down under the trunk door proper. “Well, might be kind of hard to execute me if you can’t cancel me in the first place, no?”

“You gonna do somethin’ about it?” Whumpee raised a challenging eyebrow at them. Whumper had to manually remember how to breathe. 

They snatched Whumpee’s phone out of their grasp and lept down from the trunk, sprinting halfway across the campsite and turning around to dangle the phone tauntingly before Whumpee even had a chance to jump down.

“Can’t cancel me without access to the outside world at all, yeah?”

“Oh, fuck you, Whumper!”

“You would!”

Whumpee snorted, jumping down and sprinted toward Whumper, but Whumper took off again in a different direction, so they were still the same distance away by the time Whumpee made it to Whumper’s original spot.

Whumpee blew some air up their face, their bangs fluttering up in the most adorable way. They made their way toward Whumper again, this time walking normally, panting lightly and holding out their hand. “Okay, seriously, I need my phone back please."

Whumper squeezed the phone in a death grip and bit the inside of their cheek, so hard they almost drew blood. They cherished moment, the way their heart fluttered. It may be a while before they and Whumpee could have moments like this again, but after that, life would be nothing but these moments.

Whumpee grabbed onto Whumper's shoulder to leverage themself up to the arm holding their phone toward the sky, but their hand fell just short of reaching. One of the advantages of being the taller one. But then Whumpee used their shoulder as a boost to jump higher, and Whumper had to stumble back to keep the phone away from them. Whumpee’s knees buckled from the sudden absence of Whumper's body to brace the fall and they fell on their ass with a shriek. Oh no. No no no.

“Sorry, I’m sorry!” Whumper yelled, backing up further.

Whumpee hissed. A telltale redness of the eyes betraying held-back tears as they cursed to fire shooting up their tailbone. 

“What was that for?” They demanded, more confused and pained than angry. Even when Whumper accidentally hurt them, they didn't get mad; Whumper could have cried. Whumpee really was perfect, weren’t they?

“Just give me my phone, would ya, man? Jesus, I think I bruised my tailbone or something. We might need to actually call someone now, or go to urgent care…”

“You can’t do that, Whumpee. Sorry.”

Whumpee, for the first time, groaned in annoyance and tilted their chin up at Whumper. That would need correcting later. But even still, the actions made Whumper want to squeeze Whumpee until they popped.

“Why not? You break the cell service on purpose? Or did you actually take me out here to kidnap me, torture me, then leave my remains strewn about the woods so they’d never find me again?” A wry smile crept onto their face again, one which quickly disappeared as soon as Whumper spoke again.

“Well… one out of the three.”

“What?” Their eyes widened into a brief flash of fear before the mask of confusion settled on their features again. Whumper always took the joke too far sometimes. They knew that. With some effort and a clenched jaw, they pushed up to their knees. “Whumper, stop fucking around and help me up. I need to get to a doctor.”

Whumper closed their eyes and took a deep breath, a loud roaring in their ears. No turning back now. 

They threw Whumpee's phone on the ground and smashed the heel of their hiking boot into the fragile glass, and Whumpee cried out, falling out of their precarious squat and straight onto their tailbone, then spasming out so they laid trembling on their side. Whumper stomped on the phone until it more resembled broken spare parts than an actual device, then swished it around in the dirt just to make sure.

Whumpee stared at the dust-bitten parts with wide eyes, mouth agape. Then their fiery gaze shot up and found Whumper. “What the FUCK?! WHAT WAS THAT FOR?!"

Whumper stared at Whumpee, hardly able to breathe. This was it. The Confession.

“I’m sorry I have to do this, Whumpee, but I can’t let anyone else have you anymore. That includes people on your phone. You’re mine. And I’m yours. They might try to get in our way, and if that happens, I wouldn’t hesitate to eliminate the problem entirely. I know you might be in shock right now, but I think you’ll find that in time... I mean, I’ll make sure you never want for anything and no one–... no one will… Are you– Do you need help?...”

Whumpee struggled to their feet with shaky legs, wincing the entire time, breathing heavily, almost like a panic response. They never took their eyes off Whumper. It would have been perfect, except for the terrified and hurt and still slightly disbelieving expression that etched into their features. Whumper tried to go and help them up, but Whumpee practically lept backward, almost toppling over again in the process.

“The fuck?! No, stay away from me! This is– What is this? You’re actually kidnapping me?”

“No, no, Whumpee, look, you’re in shock,” Whumper rushed forward and grabbed them by the forearms to hold them steady. Whumpee tugged away violently, but still, Whumper held them fast. “I have a cabin out here, no one will find us, we’ll go there and we can patch you up and you can–”

“No, no! Let go of me Whumper, let me go, I don’t want to be kidnapped! Let me go, please, please I can’t– I can’t– please–... don’t–…”

Whumpee was getting hysterical, their breaths shallow and fast, their face so much whiter than normal and tears falling freely down their cheeks. This was all wrong. This wasn't how it was supposed to go.

Thankfully, Whumper was always prepared. As gently as possible, they wrenched Whumpee’s arm downward and Whumpee collapsed to their knees at Whumper’s feet. Whumper slipped the syringe out of their pocket. A pre-measured dose. Just for Whumpee.

“Whumpee, you’re hysterical. I’m going to put you to this’ll help you relax, almost like you’re asleep. You won’t be able to move, but know you’ll always be safe from now on. With me.”

Whumpee tried to tug away from Whumpers iron grip, breath hitching intensely as they unsuccessfully tried to back up, shaking their head and pleading, “No–, no no no–, I don't–, please don’t, just– let me go–  I don’t– stop, stop, stop stop no stop stopstopstopSTOPSTOPSTOPSTOP PLEASE!!”

Then they plunged the needle into Whumpee’s arm, more forcefully than they meant to. Whumpee was starting to get on their nerves. They let out a strangled cry, still trying desperately to pull away, struggling with all their might. Until they couldn’t anymore. They swallowed, doing their damnedest to fight the drug overpowering their body, slowly shutting them down. All that did was work the poison around their body faster. Their actions slowly got weaker and weaker until they collapsed into Whumper’s arms, eyes slowely blinking and unfocused, barely seeing through the fog.

Whumper smiled down into Whumpee’s eyes, scooping them up into a bridal carry, their head lolling against their chest.

“See, isn’t that better? Let’s go home and get those injuries all fixed up for you. I’ll make sure you get settled in nice and snug. You’ll love it… I’m so glad we’re finally going through with this. I’d be lost without you, dear. And you’d be lost without me.”

Lonely Place of Longing

Warnings: cut, wound, blood, hurt/aftermath, caretaker and whumpee, living weapon whumpee, i guess captivity and restraints?

“Welcome to Organization, Caretaker,” the Chairman said.

“Thank you very much for giving me this opportunity,” Caretaker said enthusiastically. Caretaker had always wanted to make a difference with their life. They knew that Organization—with their unprecedented efforts to keep the world safe—was the best way to do so. Though they had limited military training, and absolutely no background in technology management, somehow Caretaker had managed to get the job.

“Let me take you to your team. You’re going to be assigned to Alpha Team. They’re our most active. I’ll let Team Leader fill you in on your duties. They are your direct superior and you are to report to them.”

“Understood. Thank you, Chairman.” Caretaker hurried along to follow the Chairman.

“There are several teams. But Alpha has the most unusual members. Ah, Team Leader, there you are,” the Chairman stopped in the hallway as they almost collided with a hulking figure. Team Leader easily stood a head taller than Chairman. And a head and a half taller than Caretaker. They looked down at Caretaker with warm, dark eyes.

“You must be my new medic.”

Caretaker nodded vigorously. “Yes! I won’t let you down.”

“I’ll introduce you to the rest of the team. They’re in our portion of Base. What have they told you about our team?” Team Leader walked quickly. Caretaker had to half jog to keep up.

“That you are very active as a team. And that you have…” Caretaker’s voice trailed off. How would Team Leader take to having their team called unusual?

“We have a pretty big team. I’ll introduce you to them all in time. But I have to warn you. We have something assigned to our unit that makes us indispensable. Your job will be to manage and take care of that thing.”

“I won’t let you down. I promise,” Caretaker said eagerly.

“Do you know what a living weapon is, Caretaker?” Team Leader asked, completely ignoring Caretaker’s promises.

Caretaker stopped walking. A living weapon. They had heard of them of course. But never in their wildest dreams did they think they would ever see one, let alone work with one. They were supposedly the most dangerous assets Organization had at their disposal. Their enemies, of course, also had living weapons. A great number of them. Weapons were allegedly easily corruptible. Weapons were typically very, very evil. They had to be kept under lock and key at all times. Caretaker nodded. “They’re a human, well they were human to start with. And they’ve been imbued with…”

“With powers that make them more dangerous than an army of regular soldiers.”

Caretaker swallowed. So it was true. Living weapons really could level a city by themselves.

“We have one. They’re called Whumpee. Your job is simple, Caretaker. Keep Whumpee alive. Patch them up when we bring them back. And keep them in their quarters. They aren’t to be trusted with any freedom. No matter how much they ask, you can never let them out of our quarters unsupervised. Do I make myself clear?” Caretaker nodded.

“And, Caretaker, please remember they are dangerous. They are deadlier than any gun, knife, or projectile you will ever see. Please remember that.”

Caretaker nodded again and continued to follow Team Leader. They half heartedly listened to Team Leader introduce them to Alpha Team. Over a dozen names and faces to memorize. But none of them were the weapon. And Caretaker’s mind kept drifting to the weapon. What were they like? What were their powers? Would they hurt Caretaker? Would they try to escape and hurt the rest of the team?

After what felt like hours of introductions, but Caretaker realized it may have only been half an hour, Team Leader was leading them away from the rest of the team. “Whumpee’s room is down this hall. I hope you don’t mind, it’s where we had to put your room.” Team Leader looked a touch embarrassed. “No one wants to stay down here near them. I’ve put in a work order to repurpose our library into a living quarters. Once that’s nearly ready we can convert your room to the library and then you can move. I’m sorry.”

No one even wanted to sleep near the weapon. How evil were they? “It’s ok. I’m sure it won’t be that bad. Thank you.”

Team Leader knocked loud and hard on a door at the end of the hall. “Whumpee! Open up!” Team Leader called gruffly. “You have a new keeper. Come meet them!”

The door swung open to reveal a small, spartan room. A bed was tucked into a corner, blanket neatly tucked in. A desk was not too far from there, a small stack of books and papers in the center. Caretaker could see a small balcony opposite their door that overlooked Base’s grounds. Caretaker swallowed as they realized the balcony was caged in. The other window had bars. There was no escaping this room.

Team Leader strode into the center of the room and turned to face the door. “Whumpee, meet Caretaker. Caretaker this is Whumpee.” Whumpee leaned against the wall. Their pale blonde hair curled softly at their collar and they watched Caretaker with icy blue eyes. They were tall and lean, though their build didn’t betray the power that lurked beneath. Their clothes were plain—black shirt tucked into black pants, with black boots. The only thing adorning them were the silvery cuffs at their wrists—cuffs that Caretaker knew kept them from accessing their power.

“Nice to meet you, Caretaker,” Whumpee said, their voice surprisingly soft. Caretaker fully expected their voice to be low, grating. They didn’t expect a soft, pleasant sounding voice.

Caretaker swallowed twice before replying. “Nice to meet you, too.”

“I’m going to leave you two to get acquainted. Whumpee you are to give Caretaker a run down of your medical history and what they may need to know to be better than your last keeper. Actually, you can also let them patch up that cut from our mission this morning. It’s a small one, Caretaker. Won’t take you that long. I’ll check back in with you, Caretaker, in,” Team Leader looked at their watch, “an hour. I have a briefing with Delta Team to get to.”

Before Caretaker could protest, Team Leader left. Caretaker stood in the center of the room, their heart in their throat. Team Leader left them alone. With a living weapon. A being so dangerous they were kept in a room that was essentially a cage. And they had their powers suppressed at all times.

“Are you afraid of me?” Whumpee asked quietly. They hadn’t moved. Hadn’t attempted to get closer to Caretaker. Hadn’t tried to run out the door behind Team Leader.

Caretaker licked their suddenly dry lips. “Yes.”

Whumpee nodded. “Good. You should be.” They crossed the room and flopped onto their stomach on the bed. Caretaker could see a long, still bleeding cut, running the length of the weapon’s back from their left shoulder to their right hip.

The weapon propped their head up on their arms. “Don’t worry, I won’t hurt you unless Team Leader tells me to.”

“Do you always do as Team Leader asks?”

The weapon lay their cheek on their arm. “Yes. I am to always listen to Team Leader.” The weapon sighed. “The last one didn’t last long. There’s no shame in quitting. I won’t blame you.”

“What?”

“My last keeper. They quit after three days. It’s ok if you are too scared. You can quit. Everyone does eventually.” The weapon seemed to say the last more to themself than Caretaker.

“Where’s your first aid kit?” If they got to work they could ignore the weapon and their ice cold eyes.

“In my med bay.”

“You have your own?” This unit was much fancier than Caretaker thought. Each member got their own private med bay. Just how large was this space?

The weapon closed their eyes as though they were suddenly very weary. “No one wanted to share with me.”

Caretaker was silent. What do you even say to that? They looked around for the door to the med bay.

“You don’t need to dress it, Caretaker. It will clot soon. Probably.”

“You’ll ruin your sheets.”

“Isn’t the first time. Won’t be the last time.”

Caretaker very much did not want to be alone in the room with the weapon any longer. But they had a job to do. So they crossed the room to a door that they thought might lead to another room. They were right. The med bay was well stocked. They grabbed some gauze and anti septic so they could dress the wound.

Caretaker worked in silence. And the weapon was silent. Caretaker expected them to fill Caretaker in on their medical history while they worked. Expected them to say anything. But the weapon merely lay there and let Caretaker clean and dress the wound. “I don’t think it needs stitches. But I could glue it if—“

“It’s fine, Caretaker.” The weapon pulled their shirt off and over their head. Their back and chest were littered with scars, some older, some newer. “Here’s my medical history. I can’t get sick. I can’t remember if I did before…before I came here.”

Caretaker marveled at the scars. How was the weapon still alive? Some of them were serious, grievous wounds. “Anything else I should know?”

The weapon shook their head. They opened another door to reveal a small closet. They tossed the soiled shirt into a bin. They pulled another shirt from the drawer and put it on. “I am glad to meet you, Caretaker. No matter how long you stay here.”

June of Doom day 24

“I think I’m going to be sick” (bleeding out/illness/cold sweat)

“I–I think… ’m gonna be sick,” were the last words Whumpee muttered before their eyes rolled to the back of their head and they fell in a dead faint. Caretaker doesn’t remember if they screamed, but they know that they’re clutching Whumpee’s limp body and shaking.

“Wake up, please just–wake up…” Caretaker moaned, clutching Whumpee to their chest.. They didn’t know what to do. Panic stole Caretaker’s medical knowledge from them. They couldn’t think. They didn’t know what was happening to Whumpee, or how to fix it, or if they would die here, trapped in Whumper’s cell. The thought made Caretaker sick. 

“You know that’s pointless, right?” Caretaker felt their entire body tense at the sound of Whumper’s voice. They turned, finding Whumper leaning on the wall just outside of the bars. Caretaker hadn’t heard them coming.

Rage, dulled somewhat by the buzzing in their head, filled Caretaker.“You–you sick fuck,” they tried their best to keep their voice steady, but knew they’d failed from the way Whumpee smirked. “What’d the hell did you do to them?!”

Whumper shrugged. “Not much. We’re moving tonight, and I don’t need you two awake for it,” Whumper reached for their belt, grabbing a set of keys and unlocking the cell door. Caretaker stumbled to their feet, blocking Whumpee from Wumper’s view. Whumper chucked at their attempt at protecting their unconscious cellmate. “No point in trying to wake them up. I gave them enough to knock out someone three times their size,” Whumper made a gesture towards Caretaker. “Had to make sure you both went down after all.”

“You–what?” Caretaker gasped out, fighting to keep their footing. 

The mocking look on Whumper’s face made Caretaker sick. “You’re a doctor or something, right? Can’t you feel when you’re under the influence? Do you think I was just being kind when I gave you two more than moldy bread to eat today? 

It took Caretaker a worryingly long time to recall what’d happened only an hour before. After weeks of scraps, Whumper had finally given them a proper meal. They’d both been starving, so desperate that they’d forgotten just how little they could trust what was given to them. They realized now how horrible of a mistake that had been. 

With swimming vision, Caretaker looked down at Whumpee, nearly stumbling to the ground with the movement. They hadn’t moved from where Caretaker had left them. They were so small, so much smaller than Caretaker was. It was no wonder that they’d been the first to feel the effects.

Caretaker wanted to ask what they’d been drugged with, where they were going, what was even happening, but their tongue had turned to mush in their mouth. Caretaker hit the ground, but didn’t feel the impact. They didn’t feel anything for a long while afterwards.

CHOKING IN WHUMP

I know this is like very basic in whump but its something I just CANNOT get over with.

It’s not just about the physical pain but also the mental and emotional anguish. It’s like a perfect storm of fear and helplessness, and that combination really gets me hooked.

Plus, there's something about the dynamic it creates between the whumpee and whumper. It adds layers of control and power plays, which can make the whole situation even more intense. The way it forces characters into such a vulnerable state is just sooo deliciousss.

What I love the most is the thought's that whumpee gets while being choked. When a character is choking, it’s like everything else fades away, and it’s just them and this immediate, life-or-death struggle. The thoughts are the one thing that changes the whole situation. It ramps up the tension and keeps them on edge, wondering how they’ll get out of it or if they’ll even make it.

Whumpee's breaths are ragged, each gasp a desperate plea that falls on deaf ears. The world seems to be narrowing, collapsing into a pinprick of darkness as their lungs scream for air that isn’t coming. Their mind races, a jumble of fragmented thoughts. Is this how it ends?

Whumpee can feel the pressure tightening, relentless. Their vision blurs, and they struggle to focus on anything but the suffocating grip around their throat. The room spins, and their heartbeat feels like it’s trying to break free from their chest. It’s like being trapped in a nightmare where the walls are closing in, and there’s no escape.

There’s an almost surreal clarity in this moment of terror. They think about everything They won’t get to do—no more sunrises, no more laughter, no more moments of peace. All those simple things I took for granted are slipping away, one choking gasp at a time.

Whumpee's hands claw uselessly at the constriction, nails digging into their skin, but it’s like trying to fight a storm with bare hands. Whumpee's thoughts are a blur of panic and regret, all mingled with a helpless resignation. I’m fading, losing grip on everything familiar.

The worst part? The absolute isolation. In this moment, no one can hear my silent screams. I’m utterly alone, drifting into the darkness with only the oppressive pressure as my cruel companion.

Is this it? Is this what it means to truly lose yourself? To have your life squeezed out of you, one choking breath at a time? The fear grips them like icy fingers, and whumpee can’t help but think that there’s no coming back from this.

Oh god oh god oh god Please please Im sorry im sorry

Please let my family be okay..

Finally.

So, yeah, choking in whump isn’t just about the physical act. It’s about the emotions, the stakes, and the dynamic it sets up. :))

:') ow

Whumpee getting a wound stitched up and then being suddenly forced to move/fight/run: they can feel every single stitch pull their skin and tear one by one, with blood slowly seeping through the bandages, knowing they'll have to get them fixed all over again.