#whumptember

here is the prompt list for Whumptember 2025! You can use all four prompts or just one for it to count for the day. Combining prompts across multiple days into one fic is allowed, but make sure that each prompt gets its own time to shine!

Tag fics with #whumptember2025 (no space) for the best chance of it being reblogged

“I was just trying to help” 

Telepathic caretaker | hurt/no comfort| bedroom 

2. “You’ve never understood how important this is to me” 

Bloodied clothes | reluctant hero | crumbling building 

3. “I can’t keep going on like this” 

Shaking hands | wing whump | hospital 

4. “Keep your eyes open!” 

Blood-soaked gauze | car ride to the hospital | back seat of a car

5. “Do it right this time” 

Dagger | returning home | childhood bedroom 

6. “Make it look good” 

Quivering lip | caretaker turned whumper | hotel room 

7. “What’s happening to me?”

Emptied syringe | turning into a monster | laboratory 

8. “How scared should I be right now?” 

Flashing lights | whumper’s return | panic room 

9. “If something had happened to you…” 

Bloodied bandages | captivity | bathroom 

10. “I need your help” 

Torn shirt | amputation | in the middle of nowhere

11. “Start begging and maybe I’ll stop” 

Rusty nail | intimate whumper | dungeon 

12. “Why did you save me?” 

Warm blanket | whumpee in denial | safe house 

13. “You told me you had this handled” 

Broken tooth | in over their head | med bay

14. “I don’t want to do this” 

Scalpel | reluctant whumper | makeshift laboratory 

15. “This doesn’t look safe” 

Old bridge | failed rescue | forest 

16. “Are you sure you don’t need my help?”

Outstretched arm | hero on the run | dark alleyway 

17. “You’re going to get yourself killed acting like this” 

Blood-soaked rag | middle of the night patch-up | small closet 

18. “I don’t see a way out of here” 

Thorny bush | multiple whumpees | labyrinth 

19. “I really wanted this to work” 

Mystery pill | wrong place, wrong time | abandoned building 

20. “You can’t fix me this time” 

Teary eyes | broken-down whumpee | sidewalk of a busy city 

21. “Don’t make me go” 

Packed bag | fever | whumper’s car 

22. “Just leave me alone” 

Closed door | reluctantly cared-for | the foot of the bed 

23. “Just…keep talking to me” 

Phone screen | running out of time | rush hour

24. “I was too late” 

Grave marker | running on fumes | interrogation room 

25. “I don’t know who I am anymore” 

Broken mirror | hiding from their team | supply closet 

26. “I didn’t think I’d get out of there alive” 

Broken lock | successful escape | abandoned mine 

27. “Don’t worry about me, check on the others first” 

Puddle of blood | stoic whumpee | battlefield 

28. “As long as I’m conscious, I’ll fight” 

Broken ribs | bloodied and bruised | medical tent

29. “What do I need to do?” 

Ransom note | middle of the night phone call | parking lot 

30. “When was the last time you slept?” 

Warm drink | traumatized whumpee | kitchen 

Alt. prompts

Haircut 

2. Bear trap

3. Shock collar

4. Hemophobia 

5. Sprained ankle

6. Shaking hands

7. Suspended by chains

8. Ripping fingernails off

9. “You’re still my favorite.”

10. “Will you just shut up and hold my hand?” 

11. “I don’t think I can do this again, not with you.”

12. “I still want to take care of you…even after everything you’ve done.” 

“I need your help” | Torn shirt | amputation | in the middle of nowhere

Content Warnings: Mentions of physical punishment (whipping, strapping, caning), emotional trauma, fear response, power imbalance/master-servant dynamic. 

The young man stared at the torn shirt in his hand - utterly ruined beyond repair - and wondered what he was meant to do with it. He looked up at his new valet questioningly who stood in front of him, just as solemn and stone faced as he had been every day since his arrival at the manor.

“Is this one of my shirts?” He asked after a moment, because even he had soon realised that the servants in this house never spoke unless spoken to. Their elaborate show of respect was unnerving to the young man, who had inherited so suddenly and unexpectedly after his estranged uncle's death.

“Yes, my lord,” his valet said gravely. “I'm afraid it got torn while washing.” His eyes flickered from the shirt to his master's face and back. “It won't be mendable.” He added like a confession.

The young man nodded, agreeing with the judgement wholeheartedly. For lack of a better thing to do he lifted the shirt up to inspect the giant tear in it. “Torn on a nail?” He remarked. His mother had once destroyed an undershirt of his in a similar way, he thought. But he didn't remember exactly.

“Yes, my lord.” The valet stood there even stiffer than usual, his hands quite properly folded in front of him and utterly still. “A carelessness on my part.”

The young hummed thoughtfully. Right now he was meant to do something - he was sure of it but he hadn't the faintest idea as to what. This had happened often in the last few days since arriving at his new manors. A pause or a moment of tense silence - times when he was clearly expected to act or speak out but didn't. Because he had never been trained for this.

He laid the shirt to the side, noticing in the corner of his eyes how his valet stiffened up even further. Ah - the question of punishment perhaps? This was probably what a master of the house was meant to do in this case. He thought. Maybe.

But what would be a fair sentence in this case? Surely this had been an accident. Perhaps he could order his valet to remove the nail in question so such an incident never occurred again? Or was this particular nail an essential part of the washing setup and the order would merely look foolish. Should he take the cost of the shirt out of his servant’s wages?

Oh, he didn't know.

He smiled somewhat sheepishly at his valet who was only a few years older than him, but surely more knowledgeable in this. “Now, you have all been wonderfully patient with me since my arrival a few days ago. I know I have made lots of mistakes already - but I'm afraid I need your help once more.”

His valet breathed once, carefully and deliberately. “Of course, my lord. I am completely at your service.”

“Ah yes, thank you” he said, feeling a blush creep on his face. “So - please tell me if you can. What would my uncle have done in this case?” This had to be a good place to start at least, and the man - who had served the last lord of the manor for years - would surely know the answer to this. It might be a little unfair to ask his servant to advise on his own punishment, but surely for such a small offence this would be bearable. 

He felt quite proud of thinking of this question - at least for the two seconds between speaking it and looking at his valet’s pale face once more that seemed to have lost all colour whatsoever now.

“His lordship kept a strap for such purposes.” He admitted in a carefully controlled voice, that did not tremble - or at least not as much as the rest of him. Their eyes did not meet when he added. “Fifteen strokes would have been deemed sufficient for such an offense.”

"Fifteen?" Surely not -

“Twenty, my lord!” his valet corrected himself hurriedly, quite unlike his usual calmness. “I did not mean to deceive, my lord. Truly - I just -”

Unable to hear another word, the young man raised a hand to halt him. A tense silence descended over the room.

Gods, twenty lashes for such a small accident. For a regular, plain, rather worn shirt. It was ridiculous. But when he looked into the large frightened eyes of his valet that clearly tried to appear as stoic as he usually was, he knew it to be mercilessly real.

Gods, his uncle must have been a monster.

“Shall I fetch it, my lord?” His valet offered with a horrifying politeness. As though he was fetching him an umbrella for a rainy day.

“No,” was all he could say while letting himself fall into the creaky armchair by the fire. The room suddenly seemed even colder than usual.

“The whip then, my lord?” The valet went on. “Or -“ At this point something like cautious relief bloomed in his eyes, which made his new master want to throw up when he heard what came next. “Or perhaps the cane?”

“No, no, no!” He buried his head in his hands. Only the cracking fire could be heard - the tension of the servant seemed to echo into the silence nevertheless. “No, this won't do at all.”

With a start he got up from the armchair again, the sudden need to move overwhelming him. “No, just - “ He saw the quiet terror in his servant's eyes. Who knew whatever hell he was imagining to come next. “No punishment for this. None! You hear?”

“Yes, my lord,” his valet answered dutifully, with his usual quiet dignity, and clearly without believing him for even a second.

They stared at each other. Then the new lord decided he could not stand the silence for a moment longer. This called for noise and action. “Bring me the whip, and the strap and the cane and whatever else my uncle liked to use for his punishments,” he ordered.

The servant gave a barely noticeable flinch. “Of course, my lord.”

“No! No, not for you! - I want to burn it,” he explained hurriedly only now realising how what he said would be understood by any reasonable person who was not privy to his thoughts. “So, make sure to bring sufficient firewood as well.”

day twenty-six of whumptember

739 words

warnings: drugging, kidnapping, conditioned whumpee

~

Living Weapon slides across the floor of the van as it skids to a stop. Handler hops out of the driver’s seat and opens the door, “Hurry up.” 

It crawls out of the van and smooths out its shirt. It huffs and stares at the ground. 

Handler tilts her head accusingly and hisses, “Do you have something you need to say?” 

“No,” it replies, wringing its hands behind its back. “Let’s just…get this over with.” 

Handler smiles tightly and claps Living Weapon on the back. It tenses under her hand and exhales sharply. It closes its eyes and tightens its hand into a fist, its nails digging into the palm of its hand. 

Handler walks forward, snapping her fingers at Living Weapon to get it to follow her.

She stops right outside the boundary to the park and pulls Living Weapon under a tree. She points around the trunk and sighs. “There’s Sidekick. Make sure no one is watching and bring him back here.” 

Author: Autobot2001 Genre: Fanfiction Fandom: Call of Duty: Modern Warfare Rating: G Warning: None Pairing: None Description: Jamie is seriously injured and struggling to stay awake. Continued from day 2.

Day 4.2; @whumptember: “Keep your eyes open!”, Blood-soaked gauze

“Baby, I can’t do it.” Chris looked at you with a mournful expression on his face. “I can’t leave right now.” 

“Sweetheart, you have to. It’s just a few interviews and it's only for two days. You’ll be back before you know it. We will be just fine here.” 

He held your 3 week old daughter tightly against himself, worried that if he loosened his grip even the slightest, that she would disappear.

“You don’t deserve this.” Sensory overload | Feeling like someone’s watching | Bad luck

“Now, before we begin, I want you to know that you don’t deserve this.”

Whumper flipped their chair backwards, taking a lazy step over to face Whumpee, arms resting against the chair’s back. They took a moment to savor the pretty thing in their basement, bound and gagged, face full of terror and confusion. They were adorable, absolutely perfect.

Whumper allowed the silence to linger for a moment, enjoying the sight of Whumpee squirming underneath their gaze, before they spoke. “This isn’t for revenge for anything in particular, nor are you a hostage in some larger scheme. I don’t need you specifically, and you did nothing to earn what’s going to happen to you,” Their voice was an amused purr, calm and confident in contrast to the muffled whimpers leaving Whumpee. “You simply caught my eye, nothing more.”

Whumpee didn’t attempt to speak through their gag. They only shook, eyes filling with tears.

“Do you know what that means?” Whumper leaned forward in their seat, a grin spitting across their face as Whumpee flinched. \Whumpee fruitlessly attempted to back away, pulling against the ropes binding them to their chair. The sight only made Whumper’s grin widen. “That means that there is nothing you can say to change this. You can try, I encourage it even, but there’s nothing you could offer me to make me stop.” 

Whumper stood from their seat, circling around their prisoner until they stood behind them. They draped their arms around Whumpee’s shoulders, pressing their blade gently into Whumpee’s stomach. They felt their captive shutter, panicked breaths stopping as they stilled. Whumper leaned forward until their lips brushed against Whumpee’s ear. 

“What’s happening to me?” | Emptied syringe | turning into a monster | laboratory - @whumptember 2025- Day 7

Their Sacred Vow, Their Sacred Vow: The Courting Years

Author's note: Callisto's around 13 here, as this is when her puberty hits

Callisto

She was warm. Like, really, really warm. And itchy. Everything was so itchy, she wanted to scream. Was she getting sick? But that couldn't be possible. Callisto had never even gotten a case of the sniffles before now thanks to her magic. So what could be wrong?

Stumbling into the bathroom, she felt for the smooth panel by the door, activating the glowing gems to light her bathroom. Only to shriek and fall back at the sight in the mirror. Her tailbone lit up in a burst of pain as she sat stunned on the ground.

It was just her imagination. A fragment of dreams from a night of restless sleep. Her eyes were still… normal.

Yeah, she was just seeing things.

Cautiously, trembling, Callisto gripped the lip of the counter to pull herself up on shaking legs.

Everything in her wanted to bolt. Or scream. Or cry. Or just all three at once.

But she forced herself to look. To look at red scales that had sprouted on her face. At little pointed nubs in her hair that made her stomach churn. Though eyes that… that were more animal than human.

Jaw quivering, she sank back down to the floor. "What's happening to me?" she whimpered.

Their Sacred Vow- Assorted Childhood Scenes Pt1

Their Sacred Vow + Their Sacred Vow: The Courting Years Taglist:

@melpomenelamusa, @writinggremlin, @lesbianwords, @whump-ohmy

Probably won't do many of these prompts, but here's what I've written. I'll make a final list at the end of the month.

Day 1: Chains/failed escape attempt (captivity, torture, superpowers)

Day 9: “What did they do to you?” bloodied clothes (sidekick whumpee, superpower whump, blood)

Day 20: "This is just the beginning." (immortal whumpee, poison, experimentation, gory hallucinations)

Day 23: "You're nothing without me." invisible restraints | hero whumper | basement (2nd pov from villain's pov, restraints, suffocation)