#whump writing

[whump-in-the-closet]

When caretaker puts their hand on whumpee’s back for support or comfort and whumpee flinches away, stiffening like caretaker’s touch is a blow

[the-bar-sinister]

Whumper who is physically larger than whumpee restraining whumpee with their body.

Whumper pushing whumpee against the wall and pinning them there with whumper's hand on their wrists.

Whumper grabbing whumpee from behind and holding them tightly so whumpee can't move their arms.

Whumper pushing whumpee belly down on the ground and holding them there with one foot on whumpee's back.

Whumper holding whumpee's wrists together from behind.

Whumper holding whumpee up off the ground by whumpee's wrists, or by their ankles.

Whumper pinning whumpee to the wall and pinning them their by whumpee's throat.

Whumper knocking the legs out from under whumpee and grabbing whumpee by the hair when they fall to their knees.

[jordanstrophe]

The moment whumpee sees caretaker for the first time.

They practically body-slam them in a hug, sobbing, "Please be real this time... Please be real!"

[a-living-canvas]

Cosmic Love

"Eat a little, please?" Caretaker pleaded, holding a spoonful of food in front of Whumpee's lips. It's been a few days since they finally rescued Whumpee from Whumper. But now their little one didn't have an appetite to eat. 

Whumpee shook their heads. Their knees pressed to their chest as they rested their chin on it. Cloudy eyes staring straight at the wall. 

Caretaker sighed, "I don't want you to get sick…just a bite, okay?"

Caretaker brought the spoon to Whumpee's mouth again, but their lips sealed shut. Setting the plate on the bedside table, they caressed Whumpee's hair gently. 

"I worry about you, Whumpee…" Caretaker cupped Whumpee's chin, turning their head to them while smiling sadly. 

A few knocks could be heard from outside. Caretaker slid off the bed gently before opening the door, their eyes lit up as they saw Team Leader on the doorway. 

"Took you long enough." Caretaker stated. Team Leader chuckled. They pulled a green shirt from the shopping bag and showed it to Whumpee. 

"Look, Whumpee. I bought you a shirt, do you like it?"

Caretaker clicked their tongue. They shook their heads in dissappointment.

"Team Leader…team leader…Whumpee doesn't like green, remember? They liked blue."

Team Leader frowned, "What? No…! They liked green."

"They liked blue."

"Green."

"Blue."

"Green!"

"Blue!"

Whumpee watched them from afar. They couldn't help but crack out a smile and chuckled.

Caretaker and Team Leader stopped fighting. They both turned to look at Whumpee in disbelief as their chuckle changed to a full blown laughter.

"What are you guys even fighting about? It's so stupid…!" 

Caretaker immediately walked over to Whumpee and hugged them tightly, smiling as Whumpee still laughing in their embrace. 

Whumpee's laughter died down as they wrapped their arms around Caretaker, chuckling softly. "What's up with you all of a sudden?" 

Caretaker shook their head. "Nothing, Whumpee…nothing."

~

Prompt idea by @echoingalaxies

[mintflavouredwhump]

I love whumpees who can't ever seem to catch a break. Bad things are always happening to them and they have no idea why. In many cases, they don't even deserve the misfortune that's so commonplace for them

[whump-mania]

yo i love your whipped whimper caretaking prompts? could you do some more caretaking prompts for other random types of whump? whatever you’re feeling like, but esp wounds or hyper/hypothermia

Assorted Caretaker Lines

For sure! I’ll make some little sections for as many as I can think of:

Wounds

1. “Hold this down. It’ll stop the bleeding…for now.”

2. “Shit, I…I’ve never treated a would like this before, I-I don’t really know what I’m doing…”

3. “It’s infected. Someone get me a bottle of alcohol before this spreads to their immune system.”

4. “Don’t worry. We’re gonna close this thing right back up. You’re gonna be okay.”

5. “What do you mean, it already bled through? …Oh…shit.”

Hypothermia

1. “Jesus—is their skin supposed to feel like ice?”

2. “Whumpee…how long did they leave you outside…?”

3. “I don’t care if you’re cold, Whumpee’s gonna fucking die if they’re not warmed up! Give me your blanket!”

4. “They’re shaking like a leaf…I-I don’t know if they’re gonna be okay.”

5. “I told you not to go out in this weather, Whumpee. Don’t go risking your life for me.”

Hyperthermia

1. “I told you we needed to stop for water! Look at them now!”

2. “Whumper, please, just let them take a break. They’re gonna overheat like this. Let me go out there, I can handle it.”

3. “I know, I know. We’re gonna get you somewhere cool. Just hang in there.”

4. “Absolutely not. Your skin is hot to the touch right now, there’s no way you’re taking that punishment for me.”

5. “There’s no ice left, I’m sorry…it all melted. You’re just gonna have to sweat it out.”

Psychological

1. “Don’t listen to them. None of that was true, they’re just trying to get in your head.”

2. “Hey…Whumpee, you still with me? Hello?”

3. “Look at me. Breathe. You feel my hand? You’re here. You’re with me now, you’re okay.”

4. “They don’t have any physical scars. Whumper’s more inclined to leave…um…mental ones.”

5. “It scares me when you do that. When you…go somewhere else. In your head.”

[thoughtsonhurtandcomfort]

Shun the Light - Ch. 9 - Moments

Slow Burn | Refuge | Decision | Mend | Hunger | Thin Mints | The Garden | Philip |

Author's Notes: Not thrilled with how this one turned out but I needed to get some ideas out of my system that aren't quite developed enough to be their own chapter. It fills in some gaps and gives them a break before the next, much whumpier chapter.

Content Warnings: brief use of mind control, that's about it. This one is pretty light.

----

One more night becomes a week, and then another.

Dante never asks Matteo to leave, and Matteo never asks to if he wants him to. Neither wants to know the answer.

-

After learning what he did about the vampire, Matteo feels it's only fair to share a little about himself. One quiet evening, Matteo joins Dante in the living room and just starts talking. He expects Dante to be indifferent or even annoyed, but instead is met with rapt attention.

"I was pretty boring until a few years ago," he begins. "Had a job, a little place, I was dating." He clears his throat and starts fussing with the hem of his shirt - which is in fact one of Dante's or possibly Philip's shirts, he isn't quite sure.

"I met this guy I really liked and we started dating, sort of. It always felt like I was more into him than he was into me."

"So people are okay with that now? You being with another man?"

"Some of them," Matteo replies. "More than there used to be but still not enough. Depends where you go."

"I see. Sorry, continue."

"Well, there's not much else. He got me into some trouble. A lot of trouble, really - "

He catches the trepidation on Dante's face and quickly adds,

"I'm not wanted by the cops or anything. Like I said...no one is looking for me. But I...changed. And I knew if I stayed there I would hurt people. So I left."

Every time Matteo gets close to telling the whole truth, he diverts at the last moment. That would change everything and he isn't ready for this to change yet. But he makes a firm promise to himself to hide during the full moon, lest he put Dante in danger.

"Where did you go?" Dante asks.

"Nowhere, really. I move around a lot. I'm not sure there's a place for me anywhere anymore."

Dante sits back in his armchair and silently reflects on Matteo's story. He doesn't press for details, which is a relief but makes Matteo feel twice as guilty for being so vague.

"When you got here," Dante says after a while, "you were in bad shape. Can I ask...what happened? Were you attacked?"

"Sort of. Some guy caught me on his property and chased me into the woods with a gun. I got cut up on branches and stuff."

That much is, technically, true.

"And after all that you still gave me your blood?" Dante muses aloud.

Matteo shrugs, trying not to feel too proud of himself considering he was only there in search of shelter. Dante was never part of the plan.

"You were in worse shape."

Dante doesn't disagree. "I never did thank you for saving me."

"Well...I never did thank you for the place to sleep."

"Mm. Glad to know my life is at least worth a bed."

It takes Matteo a moment to pick up on the dry humor. Dante isn't smiling, but there's a glint in his eyes.

Matteo wonders what that somber face would look like smiling or laughing. He wouldn't be like the man in that old photograph, not anymore. Sorrow has weighed on him too heavily for too long. But maybe it would be beautiful in its own way.

Maybe he'll even get to see it.

-

Despite his often morose demeanor, Dante is a gentle soul who feeds stray cats and leaves seeds out for the birds even though he'll never get to see them enjoy it in the morning.

Living alone almost fifty years has left him with no shortage of eccentricities. He talks to himself, never has the same routine two days in a row, takes long walks alone at night, and stores blood in mason jars in the refrigerator.

His knowledge and hobbies have been shaped by what is available to him in the house - the books in the office library, the grand piano in the living room, Mrs. Townsend's knitting and needlepoint, an assortment of games and puzzles.

And, as it turns out, basic cable.

"How in the hell did you manage that?" Matteo asks, staring at the old but functioning television.

Come to think of it, the house has electricity and running water. He never even questioned it, and suddenly he has so many questions.

"A very large savings account," Dante explains calmly. Then he looks sheepish. "I may have...borrowed Philip's identity."

Matteo stares at him.

"...I'm not proud of it."

"No, no, I don't care about that, but what happens if something breaks? Or if someone from the company comes by?"

"There's this - this thing I can do. It's probably easier if I just show you."

Dante's eyes gleam unnaturally bright in a way Matteo has only seen a couple of times before.

"Pick up that book. Balance it on your head."

All other thoughts disappear; Matteo obeys without question.

As soon as the spell is broken he snaps back to reality and the book drops to the floor.

"How...wait, did you do that?"

"No. You did."

"But you made me do it."

"Yeah. I can make someone think they were never here. It isn't harmful...I think. And I swear I didn't use it on the Girl Scouts."

Dante seems uncomfortable admitting to using this skill, but Matteo is unperturbed. Even a little jealous - his condition doesn't come with any cool powers.

"What about shopping? I guess you don't have the internet...but maybe the home shopping network?"

"No...no mail. It's not worth the risk of someone stopping by every day."

Matteo chews his lip, thinking.

"I have an idea. What if I went shopping for you? I can go out in the daytime. And I could get some real food...not that I don't appreciate the cookies! What do you think?"

Dante looks stunned.

"You'd do that for me?"

-

The next day, while Dante sleeps, Matteo follows the path of the winding, overgrown driveway to a main road and follows that until he finds a small shopping plaza. It's a long walk but he feels stronger and healthier than he has in a long time.

That evening Matteo sits back with a bowl of soup and watches as Dante eagerly goes through the bags. He had only requested a few new books, the most recent newspaper, and some new pens and pencils, but Matteo threw in some extras just because.

I owe him for letting me stay. That's what he tells himself.

It's all going too well. He should know better than to get comfortable anywhere...or with anyone. As the waxing moon grows larger each night, Matteo knows he should leave.

But he doesn't.

[oliversrarebooks]

corporate retreat 3/4

Previous > Masterlist

tw: brainwashing, drugging, dehumanization, hypnosis, amnesia

"Quinn? Can you open your eyes for me, please?"

Somehow, they managed to get their eyes cracked slightly open. The lights in the room had mercifully been dimmed, and everything seemed fuzzy and indistinct.

"Good. Follow the penlight with your eyes, please."

Quinn did their best, but it all seemed like a big confusing blur.

"Reactions very slow but perceptible. Subject just barely able to respond to stimuli. Twilight sleep state achieved. Based on the results of the tests and their psychological makeup… recommend… and fifty milliliters… around two hours…"

Quinn felt the mask being taken off their face, and the cool rush of fresh air untainted by sedatives was a relief. They cracked their eyes open again as their arm was grasped by one of the assistants. She wiped the inside of their elbow with a cotton swab soaked in cool liquid, and then began to insert an IV line. They were still far too out of it, their limbs much too heavy, to resist.

The IV line was attached to a big bag of light blue fluid. Quinn watched as the drug went drip-drip-drip down the tube and into their arm. The assistant used the IV port to inject a dose of what looked like the same drug.

"We'll give you a little time to adjust to the new medication," said Dr. Moon. "You can just relax."

They assumed they were going to be put back to sleep, but instead they just lay there, staring at the slow drip of blue liquid, in a kind of tranquilized daze. Whatever this new drug was, it wasn't bad. They couldn't remember the last time they had felt so peaceful. Actually, they were feeling pretty good. The all-consuming sleepiness they'd felt from the gas had melted away into a drowsy calm, and their thoughts were gradually returning.

"Quinn? Are you awake? How are you feeling?"

Quinn turned lazily to Dr. Moon. "Good. Really, really drowsy… but good," they said.

"That's excellent to hear," Dr. Moon said. "You're on the good stuff now. We gathered enough data to understand how best to adjust your mind."

"The good stuff…" Quinn's gaze traveled back to the IV line. "What is it?"

"We like to call it cleaning fluid -- but don't be alarmed. It's a nickname, because it's for washing your brain." She laughed. "We have many different components we can use to make it. It's highly customized for the individual, their needs, and our needs."

They really couldn't have been alarmed even if they tried. "What's in mine?"

"Cleaning fluid always starts with Influence Serum. That's our proprietary control medication that removes your mental defenses and inhibitions and increases suggestibility, leaving your mind delightfully pliant and malleable. Then we add Liquid Lullaby -- that's what's keeping you drowsy and docile," she explained. "Your custom mixture also has Pacifier, our anti-anxiety agent, and a little False Paradise, to induce mild euphoria. Plus a few interesting other traces."

"That seems like… a lot of drugs."

"Don't worry, it's especially formulated for you, and completely harmless," she said. "You were so anxious coming here, weren't you?"

"Yeah," they agreed without hesitation.

"And you seem so exhausted. Aren't you exhausted from all the work you do?"

"Yeah, I am."

"And I bet you're so tired of thinking, too. Solving problems. Making decisions. Your poor, tired mind needs a break from all of that."

She was right, that sounded heavenly. What had they even been so worried about? The Brainwashing Department was so nice, and Dr. Moon was so friendly and helpful. "Yeah, I guess I really did need a break." They relaxed into the comfortable chair, resting their arm with the IV on the armrest. Dr. Moon was right. These drugs really were the good stuff.

"Well, it's a good thing you've got a month long vacation, then, isn't it?" said Dr. Moon.

Quinn smiled. "I can't believe it, but I'm actually glad I came here."

"Oh, that's just so lovely to hear you say! I really do think we do great work here. We help people," she said. "And I've got another treat in store for you."

"Oh? What is it?"

"I'm going to turn on the screen and you're going to watch a fun movie for the next couple of hours. It's going to hypnotize you and help you be so obedient. Doesn't that sound nice?"

"Um…" Quinn furrowed their brows. They dimly remembered that they hadn't wanted that, but they didn't really feel like making a fuss when instead they could just relax in a blissful daze.

"Great, let's get you all situated." Dr. Moon reclined their chair a little bit more, then turned on the screen and placed it in front of Quinn's face.

The screen burst to life with a pulsating rainbow spiral, one that drew Quinn's eyes right to the center as the colors shifted and swirled. They couldn't look away. They didn't want to. Something about it was so, so… compelling… like it was the greatest and most fascinating thing Quinn had ever seen, like they could watch it forever.

"There we go. Just watch the spiral. You're too sleepy to resist, aren't you?"

"I'm… I'm not…"

"Oh yes you are. You're much too sleepy to resist."

"I'm… too sleepy to resist…" Quinn heard themself agree.

"The spiral is going to open your mind up very nicely," she said. "You're going to keep your heavy eyes open and watch the spiral, but your mind is going to go to sleep, okay? Deep, deep sleep… a deep hypnotic sleep where you can listen and absorb everything."

They could feel it. They could feel themselves falling asleep in the heart of the pulsating spiral. "I can listen…"

"So obedient, aren't you? Just like you should be. What an excellent subject."

Quinn couldn't help but smile. "…Thank you…"

"Oh, you like the praise, don't you? You're the type that wants to get a good grade in being brainwashed."

It felt like so long since they'd done anything right, really. "Yeah…"

Dr. Moon draped a warm blanket over Quinn's body. "Then be a good little test subject for me, stare in to the pretty spiral, and let yourself be hypnotized."

Quinn nodded slowly. They didn't want to do anything else. They felt a pair of headphones being slipped over their ears. Through them, they could hear soft music playing and Dr. Moon's voice coaxing them to fall asleep, to be obedient and docile, to love the experience of being brainwashed.

They were much, much too sleepy to resist. Besides, they wanted to please Dr. Moon.

They should just listen, let Dr. Moon do all the thinking for them, and fall deep into trance.

"Sleep and obey…" they heard their own voice saying. "Deeper asleep and deeper entranced… too sleepy to resist… I love being brainwashed… I must obey Dr. Moon…"

Their eyelids were getting heavier again, the entrancing spiral a colorful blur, as they repeated the mantras and fell so deep into hypnotic sleep.

They weren't sure how long they remained there, eyes half-open, staring into the spiral. Time seemed to have no meaning. It could've been five minutes and it could've been five months.

"…so happy that you were brainwashed. Three. You'll be docile and obedient. Two. You'll be relaxed and refreshed. And one. You can open your eyes and wake."

Quinn opened their eyes just as the screen turned off, yawning and rubbing the sleep from their eyes. They felt so, so utterly relaxed, like they'd just had the world's finest spa treatment. Like that was the first really good sleep they'd had in years.

They were still in their chair in the clinical room. The machines were quietly beeping, and the bag of drugs attached to the IV looked mostly empty. They were more than content to just rest for a while and see what would happen next, floating in a cloud of bliss.

It didn't take long before Dr. Moon entered. "Why, hello Quinn. Welcome back to the waking world. Did you have a good nap?"

"The best," they said. "I feel amazing."

"Oh, I'm so glad. You really needed that sleep and mental readjustment," said Dr. Moon. "Here, have some water and a nutrition bar."

Quinn eagerly took the food and water. It hadn't really been something they had thought about, but they actually were hungry.

"Did you enjoy the movie?" asked Dr. Moon.

"It was wonderful," said Quinn. "It feels so right to be hypnotized and not have to think for myself. I didn't realize how badly I needed that."

"Oh, you're such a model subject. I think you might be one of my favorites," said Dr. Moon as Quinn beamed in pride. "You're taking to the brainwashing so, so well. I agree, I really think it's exactly what you needed. And you're going to get another round with a new movie -- but first I wanted to give you a little break."

"Thank you," said Quinn through a mouthful of nutrition bar. They couldn't wait to see what the new movie would be like.

"First, though…" Dr. Moon nonchalantly pulled a capped syringe from her lab coat pocket, injecting the contents into the IV line. "We call this one Loose Lips. It's a truth serum. You're probably too hypnotized to really need it, but I want to make sure you're completely honest with me when I ask you embarrassing and invasive questions about your personal life."

Quinn nodded. "That makes sense."

"First off, how do you feel about your boss?"

They frowned, annoyance just barely managing to push through their drugged calm. "She's driving me insane with their unreasonable demands. She's constantly calling me in to work on nights and weekends because we're so short-staffed, and then she acts like it's my fault that I'm burned out. She wastes my time with boring, pointless meetings, and when there's some kind of problem, she micromanages me and keeps asking for status updates when I just need to concentrate on fixing it." The grievances poured out of their mouth easily.

"That sounds really rough," said Dr. Moon sympathetically. "You should tell me everything you know about your boss. I'm very interested. And after that, maybe you can tell me all about your insecurities, secret fantasies, and embarrassing fetishes."

"Sure!" said Quinn, so eager to be obedient and useful.

Dr. Moon questioned Quinn for a while, and Quinn found that they could answer all of their questions easily and in great depth without a hint of shame. It was really nice to be able to speak so freely. Dr. Moon was such a kind, understanding person.

"You've done so well for me," said Dr. Moon. "I couldn't ask for a better test subject. I think it's time for you to get another round of brainwashing, don't you think?"

"Yes, please!" said Quinn with a big smile. "I'm so lucky that I get to spend an entire month in the Brainwashing Department. Do you think I could transfer permanently?"

"I think that would be an excellent idea. We'll see. But for now, I need to change out your IV medication, okay?" Dr. Moon switched the nearly empty bag for a full one. "This formulation is a little different. I've reduced the Liquid Lullaby and added a little River Lethe. That's our best and most gentle amnestic -- a medication that interferes with memory formation and produces amnesia."

"Amnesia…?" said Quinn, feeling a strange bit of anxiety, the first they'd felt since waking.

"You'll be less sleepy this time, but don't worry, you'll be every bit as hypnotized and blissed-out. You're not going to remember the next few hours, though. You probably won't remember much of this conversation, either," said Dr. Moon. "This new medication will leave you feeling pretty fuzzy for a while after your treatment, too. Is all of that okay with you?"

The anxiety was dissolved by their desire to please the doctor. "Of course it's okay. Whatever you think is best." The new drug was already dripping steadily into their veins. It was strange to think that it was already at work in their brain, that they wouldn't be able to remember any of this.

"Then you can just sit back and enjoy your new favorite TV show," said Dr. Moon, turning the screen on again. This time, it was a scene of slow moving clouds floating by.

Quinn barely noticed when Dr. Moon dimmed the lights and left the room, the drugs and the voices in their headphones already turning their mind into useless mush, fit only to listen and obey. After all, they were so sleepy, and the hypnotic program was far too good to resist.

Previous > Masterlist

[itswhumpday]

Hey, I know I've been MIA for SEVERAL YEARS now, but I am writing a fic and I CANNOT get through my next chapter so I'm caving and asking for help.

In this fic, I have a whumper who is into games. They're making the whumpee go through trials. The whumpee nailed the fist trial and they're not happy. The whumper is also in posession of whumpee's family (of which I want two to perish in this chapter and three to survive). I'm having trouble thinking about the second trial.

I would like something intellectual: that is, the whumpee would choose to control the outcome, but it would always be terrible (Sophie's choice sort of deal). At first I thought something akin to the chess in Harry Potter in which each of the charaters represents a piece and if the piece gets captured they die. But I feel like that would be 1) hard to narrate 2) hard for readers to follow and 3) it's literally a rip off.

But I'm having trouble thinking of other ways that might happen. Does anyone have any suggestions on where I can look for inspiration?

[kabie-whump]

Curse whump, anyone?

I've had this idea in my brain for years of a Whumpee who is cursed with empathy. Like, they can feel the pain of everyone around them all the time.

Ovbiously they avoid going out in public whenever they can, especially to really crowded places. All of the minor aches and pains from the people around them really build up. A trip to the grocery store has them falling to their knees and sobbing in the produce asile. Grocery delivery services are their best friend.

Hospitals are out of the question. That's a no-brainer.

However! Imagine how good of a nurse or doctor Whumpee would be with this curse. They would know exactly what hurts their patient and where. But of course it would be an unbearable job to do for too long.

Cursed Whumpee discovering that their teammate is hiding a serious injury because they can feel that bullet wound. Cursed Whumpee being the reason their friends and family always take such good care of themselves. Cursed Whumpee feeling guilty for having to leave the room when their best friend gets hurt and need emergency stitches.

And if we want to get silly with it, a cursed whumpee who is also a misogynist going on and on about how women are all dramatic and periods aren't actually that bad, and then he has to spend time in the same room as his female friend and he almost passes out.

[the-bar-sinister]

When whumper drags whumpee's face right in front of their own.

By whumpee's collar.

By whumpee's chin.

By whumpee's hair.

By whumpee's bonds.

Whumpee can't escape whumper's eyes locking with theirs. Whumper's breath on their face.

[serickswrites]

Lake Lachrymose

Warnings: captivity, bruises, restraints, torture, rescue, hurt/comfort, hurt/aftermath, caretaker and whumpee, implied death

Caretaker took a moment to breathe. Whumper was in cuffs, their reign of terror over. It was a nightmare how long it took them to find and defeat Whumper. But Whumper would no longer be a problem.

Whumper's compound was on the edge of a remote lake. A place that Whumper had used to dispose of their victims and also torture them. A place that Caretaker was sure they would never return. They couldn't look at the lake's still surface without seeing the pictures of the victims.

Now they just had to check the compound for survivors of Whumper's torture. As Caretaker swept each room carefully, checking for any signs of life, they tried to stop themself from imagining the pain Whumper's victims endured. No more. There would be no more.

Just when Caretaker thought that they had cleared every room, they opened the last door to see someone chained to a wall and huddled in the corner. They were hunched low, shielding their face with their outstretched hands. "Please, no more!"

Caretaker took a step forward. "I'm here to help. I--" they reached out a hand to the person.

"PLEASE!" They shrieked as they flattened themself against the wall. "I DON'T! NO MORE! I CAN'T!"

Caretaker could see the bruises marring the person's pale skin. Clearly they had fought Whumper every step of the way. Caretaker stopped moving forward. They dropped to their knees to be on the person's eye level. "I'm Caretaker. I won't hurt you. I promise. I'm here to get you out of this place."

The person paused. "C-Caretaker?"

Caretaker smiled and nodded. "Let's get you out of these cuffs. We'll get you out of here and to the warm truck. I've got blankets. The medics will take a look at you too."

Caretaker waited for the person to give them a signal they could proceed. Caretaker watched as their breathing slowed until they finally nodded. As Caretaker worked to uncuff the person, they asked, "What's your name?"

"Whumpee," the person said, eyes following every move Caretaker made. "My name is Whumpee."

"Nice to meet you, Whumpee," Caretaker said as they freed one of Whumpee's wrists. "I've got you. You're safe now."

[chokedraven]

Was thinking about it and- what about a demon whumpee? A demon whumpee that somehow gets above, to the earth, suddenly and not of their own free will and just trying to survive there?

Imagine them their whole life living in hell, the hot place, and when they appear on earth, they constantly feel cold here (especially in some countries of the north), which they have to get used to?

What if they were used to know that good is bad in their twisted morality — and now, with kind people surrounding them, they feel just... lost and defensive. Not able to trust anyone.

Maybe whumpee will join bad people, bad relationship because they will feel that these are right, are normal, because they are like most in hell. Maybe they will tolerate pain in their presence, because it's just right, isn't it?

Their life used to be hell, surrounded by bad, by wrong, and they grew up believing it's right. Will there be people here to see through the demonic origin and find a suffering soul in need of salvation?

[whumpsoda]

Seeing Me in You - A Real Name

Masterlist

cw: pet whump, box boy universe/bbu adjacent, Institutionalized slavery, conditioned whumpee, whumpee turned caretaker,

——————

“You been thinking about names?” Isaac asked, flopping down on the couch. Smiling, her hands folded over each other casually in her lap as she gazed expectantly to her pet.

“Yes, ma’am.” He replied with the softest of a nod. She had ordered him days before to come up with names for himself, a strange request. A master would want to be the one to name their pet, would they not? Weren’t those the rules?

“Got any in mind? Any you like?”

“No, ma’am.” 

Her face dropped a smidge in disappointment, churning a quease in his belly, before she jumped back to her feet. “Give me just one second.” Stepping to the short shelf pushed against the opposite wall, she studied the titles intently, before pulling one out with excitement.

“Here’s some names. A whole book of ‘em.” Isaac announced, flipping to the first page of the thick book, filled to the brim with them, “Edith uses this one all the time, and pretty much all’ve our rescues pick one from in here. I’ll read some out to you, and maybe you’ll hear one you like.”

She recited each and every one in the order they were listed in, looking to him after each name. It was almost as if she wanted his approval, such a foreign concept that 253719 didn’t understand. Though, it was usual for him not to understand her, the other masters, or any of the out of line pets around him.

“Abraham? Arthur? Atticus?” She listed, turning to him with her tender, kind smile that meant even though things were weird, he wasn’t being bad. 

“Whatever pleases you, Master.” He had merely replied after every look, the safe answer he held close to his heart. Nearly was he not even listening, mind wandering to emptiness as he kneeled on the rug beside her. But she continued still, not satisfied with it. With him. 

Until one name.

“August?” She inquired, and he perked up, the lightest of a glimmer in his eye. He recognized August. Isaac chuckled, giving him a sweet pet to the head that he leaned eagerly into. “You like that one?”

He didn’t like it necessarily, a pet didn’t like, but his master did.

Fall was his master’s favorite season, where all of the magically vibrant colored leaves would fly through the chill turning air. The month of August fell during fall, right? He could have sworn it did. 

252719 remembered his master repeating his statement of likeness every year as they sat together on the porch, 252719 kneeling beside him as he smoked. I just love fall, such a pleasant time, he would say, a rare smile strung over his lips. The foul smelling smoke would fill his pet’s nostrils, filling his lungs and tempting him to cough, but he wouldn’t. He was good enough to know not to.

And if his master so decided he wanted to utilize him for another purpose, one he wasn’t designed for but his master enjoyed, he would welcome the stinging burn of the cigarette digging a sizzling hole into his exposed flesh. He would whimper and whine pathetically with affliction, just as his master liked it.

252719 missed his master. He missed him so much it hurt, terribly so, tying suffocating knots all throughout his grief stricken body. Even the pain he inflicted the pet missed.

But they wouldn’t let him leave. Especially the one that was his new master who said she wasn’t but he knew she was. She said no running away, and so he couldn’t. 

But he wanted to.

And wanting was weird and bad. He was not supposed to want, but he did and it kept him up at night, tossing and turning over memories of his master, over anxieties of this new place where everything is confusing and strange. How it was changing him and making him so very bad.

“Yes ma’am.” 252719 - no, August - mumbled, to her glee. 

August. He had a name now. A real name. Not like the numbers his master called him by. He had a person name.

And August liked it.

…

The clothes were terribly uncomfortable. Not being used to having fabric layered over his skin he cringed, scrunching the soft lines of his plush face. 374629 was not ungrateful, never would he dare to be, he simply did not understand why his master had made him dress. He never had clothing beside a dingy pair of boxers in the facility, and was convinced he would not outside of it either. But there he was, anyway, adorned in his master’s clothing.

He was his master, right?

Me too.

374629 couldn’t help but wonder what he meant. Because of course his master couldn’t be a guard dog, let alone a boxie himself. Masters were people, not pets, and such things were not interchangeable, he knew that. 

His master didn’t even act like a pet. No crawling, no mantras - except for, well, when he repeated his pet’s, but that was different, was it not? -  no collar, no master, no pet.

His master was not a pet. He was sure that was not what he had meant, and a real pet like him should not have even been worrying about it. All he needed to worry about was keeping his master completely and absolutely safe. 

So he forced his brain back into blank and utter emptiness once again, saving himself for the danger of any possible threat. He would keep himself vigilant like he was trained to be. 

His master hummed as he cooked, with a sing-song voice creamy like butter that licked his ears with the hint of gravel. He twirled the spoon around the pot, sticky with hot mac and cheese that took over the air of the apartment. 

374629 had never had macaroni before, only the gray slop his handler had plopped into his dog bowl at least once a day. He held no hope for the chance of receiving any, knowing his place well. 

So when his master, still humming loud and clear, placed a large, human sized bowl of macaroni before him, 374629 didn’t know what to do. He knew he wasn’t supposed to eat it, that was for sure. So he waited.

His master plopped down at the table beside him with his own bowl, steaming the same as his. “That’s for you, okay? I want you to eat as much as you feel you can, if, um, that’s okay.”

Oh. 

Maybe… maybe it was for him. 

And so he ate. Warily at first, waiting for a kick to the face as he descended his mouth to the height of the food, ass up and hands on the wood. Position five. It never came.

But was his meal delicious. 

He’d never tasted anything so good in his life, so wonderful he could never believe he was deserving of it. It spread a cozy warmth of magic through his mouth, not enough to burn but enough to have him melting in a puddle on the floor. Tastebuds sparkling with excitement he plunged back in for more, scooping up pieces vigorously with his tongue and allowing them to dance through his mouth as he chewed.

“So” his master started, pulling him away from the heaven that was his dinner,  “Got any name ideas? It can be anything.”

Oh, he was so bad. Had he missed an order? Was he supposed to have been doing so?

“N- no, sir.” He didn’t even want to dare think about a name for himself. His name was for his master to decide, it was the rules. He couldn’t disobey, but was he really, when his master wanted it? 374629 swallowed another mouthful of cheese dripping noodles, mouth dribbling with sticky remains that pooled at his chin.

“That’s okay.” His master told him, although he knew he didn’t mean it. Nothing was okay when your pet was too stupid for you. “I wish… I had Edith’s book with me… I guess we’ll just have to think about it for a bit. Just let me know if anything comes to mind, um, that you like.”

He could… do that. Did he know any names? He didn’t even have one himself.

He knew… he knew His handler’s name. His first, not just his last, even if he wasn’t really supposed to. Of course he had never called him by it, only Handler Parker, but he’d heard it before.

Hey, Simon, I guess you’ve finally gotten this one under your control.

He missed his handler, he supposed. Missed the strict order and absence of confusion. With his handler he knew exactly what to do and what not, and now it felt like he was all alone with his training. Really, he was.

Handler Simon Parker.

“Simon?” He shifted up to his master, eyes falling wide, “Is that what you said?”

Had he-

He’d said that out loud-

“That’s a nice one. It fits you. I like it.” His master said, lips upturning to a grin. He looked excited, almost, and terribly pleased. “Do you like it?”

He hadn’t really-

But he did, and his master liked it. 374629 was going to be sick, stomach curling in knots as burning bile bubbled in his belly.

His lips carefully parted, quivering as his fists clenched, uncut nails burrowing into the flesh of his palm. “What- whatever pleases you, Master.” He choked out, words tinged with the rasp of shock as he turned his gaze back to the floor.

“I really like that. I think it’s settled then.” His master giggled, sweet and bubbly that failed to calm his pet’s horrified heart. “Welcome to the family, um, Simon.”

——————

Isaac is from a different connected bbu story I just posted earlier today if you want to check that out here :)

———

Masterlist

Taglist- @softvampirewhump @3-2-whump @taterswhump @fefe658 @whumped-by-glitter

@pigeonwhumps @whumpinthepot @silly-scroimblo-skrunkl @tippytappytyping @ivymyers

@octopus-reactivated @loserwithsyle @snakebites-and-ink @itsawhumpsideblog @otterfrost

@parasiticwhumpee @starrysky888 @isntthisblank

If anyone wants to be removed or added to the taglist, please let me know! :)

[sm-darling]

"To the Victor Go the Spoils" Whump | Dark | Hero/Villain

Note: This is a bit cheesy but I hope you enjoy a little classic hero/villain shenanigans

TW: Non-consent, suggestively nsfw

“You give up so easily it almost takes the fun out of things. There is something I want, though,” Villain said. He ran his tongue against his teeth subtly, and then grinned at Hero. “I’ll let you take a guess what it is.” Excitement, twisted, demented, excitement glinted in his eyes.

She didn’t even want to guess, not knowing what he’d done—what he still might do. 

She shook her head, and swallowed nervously, slowly backing away from him. “Y-you can’t—don’t—you’ve already won,” she stammered. “You don’t have to hurt me.” 

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he said, but the way he said it wasn’t remotely comforting, as he took a step forward for each step she took back.

The backs of her knees hit the edge of her bed and she froze, looking up at him. 

“I’ll give you a hint. What do you think happens when you lose?” He asked curiously. 

“Bad things. The world is—”

He laughed softly. “I’m not talking about the greater good, I’m talking about you and I,” he said musically, as though somehow the two of them were at the center of this little story. As if she’d ever been at the center of anything. 

 He placed a hand on her chest, and her blood ran ice-cold as he leaned down into her ear. “What do you think?” 

“I don’t—” He cut her off by shoving her down onto her bed. Then he was on her, firm grip seizing her wrists as his knees boxed her in on either side.

Oh no. Oh fuck. She tried to wriggle free, but he was holding her too tight for her to escape. He couldn’t actually be—no. This wasn’t how this was supposed to happen. Yet even if she could fight him, she couldn't leave. He was right that he'd won, and that he had all the power in this scenario.

“What do you think I would want?” He mused.

Cold indifference turned to panic fast. “No, no, no,” she said, shaking her head. “No you can’t—please it’s not fair!” She hated the way she sounded, like a desperate child angry at the world, confused why bad things had to happen.

He almost looked surprised. “Didn’t you expect this?”

“I didn’t!” She admitted, her words shaking, her breath heavy. Her eyes stung with tears. “Please, Villain, not this,” she begged, humiliation burning red in her cheeks. “Anything but this.”

“Consider it the consequences of your own actions. You failed. You lose.” 

“Fine, yes I lost, but this has nothing to do with what I did,” she said, her eyes beginning to fill with tears. “You don’t have to be this kind of monster, please.” 

“Call me a monster if you will, but the only thing that really matters is that I won, and, well, what do you think happens when you lose?” He asked, eyes narrowed just slightly, but there was a clear taunt in his words.

She found herself aggravated by his condescension. “I–what—I lose, that’s all it’s supposed to be.”

He was silent for far too long, and she felt him shift on the bed, sliding his knee up between her thighs and forcing them apart. The finality of that gesture made her wince. “To the victor go the spoils,” he purred. 

“I’m not a prize, I’m not something to be had.”

“Are you not? Something I’ve wanted. Something I’ve been denied, so,” he offered her a small smile, his lips parted just slightly, but the look was brimming with all manner of smugness and danger. “To the victor you'll go."

"But I don't want you!" she said, but she knew it was futile. There was a particular helplessness she felt in that moment, something that had her body wrought with tension and breath caught in her throat.

"Oh, I don’t care," he said, and his voice was airy, almost a laugh as if he were relieved that he didn't have to be civilized about taking what he wanted from her. “But don’t act like you haven’t thought of it before. Terrible, toe-curling, midnight thoughts—embarrassing ones.” Then he smiled wryly, “but it's terrifying when it’s real, huh?” 

She felt her face turning red because it was true. She had imagined him, right here in this very bed. This exact scenario—perhaps some nights it was a nightmare, but it was no less enticing in fiction form. 

His smile became excruciatingly smug. “And how am I in your fantasies?”  His fingers moved to her hip, sliding up under her t-shirt with a feathery gentleness. “Do I take my time with you? Kiss every inch of you and lick your cunt until you’re dripping like a faucet? Or…” he trailed off. 

She shivered, and a quiet whimper escaped her as he moved his knee to be on the other side of her thigh. Then his other hand was suddenly firm on her hip and he was flipping her over, leaning into her ear. “Or do I just flip you over and have you rough like a doe on the first day of spring?”

Always the second one. 

-------

To be continued....

[crimsons-whump-pile]

have we considered resurrection whump? maybe the whumpee used to be on a team with multiple other people. maybe things went wrong one day, leading to whumpee being separated from the group during the disaster — and when the rest of the team finally found them, it was too late. whumpee’s last memories were of being trapped and injured, waiting for their friends to come and get them. they thought they could even hear one of their friends’ voices coming closer, yelling their name as their vision went black for the final time.

but then they wake up. and when they wake up… they’re not with their team of friends.

no, they’re with whumper.

whumper found them as they were being pulled out of the wreckage, perhaps a building that had collapsed on them and lead to their death. whumpee’s team had gotten their body out of there, but it wasn’t hard for whumper to wait around and collect the corpse from their grave. after that, all they had to do was wake whumpee back up.

and whumpee, of course, has no idea they were even dead! it’s not like whumper told them, quite the opposite in fact. as far as whumpee is aware, their team had been close to finding them before they fell unconscious, and the next thing they know, they’re waking up in cold metal restraints with whumper standing over them, grinning like a madman. whumper is the one who tells them that they were kidnapped from right under their friends’ noses, that they’re now being held captive until their friends come to rescue them.

but as the months go by, whumpee waits and waits and waits for rescue, and… it never comes. their friends never come for them — it’s as if they’ve been forgotten entirely.

after all, who would think to rescue someone who’s already dead?