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whumpkinpie · 3 months ago

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Untitled Whump 1

A/N: The author has no notes, Just something I've been wanting to post for a while but I either A) Forget or B) Talk myself out of it. ╰（‵□′）╯?

TW: Manipulation, Intimate Whumper (SFW), Touch Starvation, Feelings of - Abandonment / Depression, Caretaker Whumper, Posessive Whumper, Captivity, Failed Escape. (Please let me know if I missed any It's been a hot minute.)

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The mansion stood isolated in the woods, a solitary monolith surrounded by an impenetrable wall of trees, while the setting sun cast long, twisted shadows across its surface, accentuating the foreboding presence it held in the heart of the forest.

The air was thick with the scent of damp earth and decaying leaves, the only sounds of distant rustling foliage and the occasional cry of a nocturnal creature.

The mansion was a place forgotten by time, its walls holding secrets that had long been buried beneath layers of dust and despair.

Inside, the silence was more oppressive.

The dimly lit hallways, lined with heavy curtains that blocked out the waning light, led to rooms that had not seen life in years. Every step taken within these walls was absorbed by the thick carpet, leaving nothing but the memory of movement in its wake.

In the small, windowless room at the heart of the mansion, Whumpee sat on the edge of a narrow bed, their fingers tracing the worn fabric beneath them. The room was devoid of comfort, its sparse furnishings a stark contrast to the grandeur that the mansion’s exterior might suggest.

A single chair, a small table, and a bed were all that occupied the space. The air was stale, carrying the faint scent of something that might have once been fresh but had long since faded into something less recognizable.

Whumpee’s gaze was distant, their mind a whirl of conflicting emotions.

They could barely remember how long they had been here, how long it had been since the world outside had ceased to exist for them. Days, weeks, maybe even months—it was all a blur. The only thing they knew for certain was that they were alone. Abandoned.

But even in their darkest moments, there was one person who remained constant, the only one who had not left them behind.

Whumper.

The thought of Whumper brought a shiver down Whumpee’s spine, a mixture of fear and an unsettling sense of relief. Whumper was their captor, yes, but also their caretaker.

Whumper’s voice was a constant in Whumpee’s life now, the only one that spoke to them, the only one that cared enough to stay. It was a twisted comfort, one that Whumpee could not fully comprehend but could not bring themselves to reject.

The door to the room creaked open, and Whumper stepped inside. Their presence filled the room, their shadow stretching across the floor to where Whumpee sat.

They were tall, with a calm demeanour that masked the darkness lurking beneath the surface. Their eyes, sharp and cold, scanned the room before settling on Whumpee.

“Are you comfortable, my dear?” Whumper asked, their voice a soft purr that belied the steel hidden within.

Whumpee nodded, though they weren’t sure if it was true. Comfort was a foreign concept now, replaced by a dull acceptance of their reality. But Whumper’s words were always gentle, always caring, and it was easier to agree than to question.

Whumper moved closer, placing a hand on Whumpee’s shoulder. The touch was light, almost tender, but it sent a wave of unease through Whumpee.

They looked up, meeting Whumper’s gaze, and saw the smile that never reached their eyes.

“You know I only want what’s best for you,” Whumper continued, their voice soothing. “I’m the only one who cares about you now. Everyone else… they’ve all left you. But I’m still here. I’ll always be here.”

The words dug into Whumpee’s mind like hooks.

They wanted to believe that someone out there still cared for them, someone who hadn’t abandoned them. But Whumper’s words were so convincing, so absolute, that it was hard to hold onto that hope.

As Whumper’s hand moved to cup Whumpee’s cheek, the room seemed to close in on them, the walls pressing closer, the air growing thinner.

Whumpee’s breath hitched, a tear slipping down their cheek as they fought to keep their grip on reality.

Whumper sat beside Whumpee on the bed, their presence dominating the small space. The oppressive room felt even smaller with Whumper so close.

They exuded a calm confidence that made it clear they were in control, their every word and movement carefully calculated to maintain their hold over the Whumpee.

As they placed the tray of food on the small table, they spoke in a tone so gentle it almost seemed caring.

“You must be hungry. I’ve brought you something to eat. You know you have to keep your strength up, my dear. I can’t bear to see you wasting away.”

Whumpee’s stomach twisted at the sight of the food, but they knew better than to refuse.

They reached for the spoon with trembling hands, the weight of Whumper’s gaze pressing down on them. Each bite was tasteless, the food just another tool in Whumper’s arsenal of control.

As Whumpee ate in silence, the Whumper began to speak again, their voice soothing but with an underlying edge that hinted at something more sinister.

“Do you remember the last time you saw your friends? How they promised to come back for you? They didn’t, did they?”

Whumpee froze, the spoon clattering against the bowl as memories flooded back—fragmented images of a life before the mansion, before everything had gone wrong.

They could barely remember the faces of the people they once called friends, but they clung to the memory of their promises.

But Whumper’s words cut through those memories like a knife, slicing away at the fragile hope the Whumpee held onto.

“They left you, my dear. They didn’t care enough to come back. They’ve moved on with their lives, while you’re here, alone. If they really cared, wouldn’t they have found you by now?”

Whumpee’s breath hitched, the spoon slipping from their grasp as tears welled up in their eyes. They wanted to argue, to deny the Whumper’s claims, but the doubt had already taken root in their mind.

The more Whumper spoke, the more those doubts grew, suffocating any hope the Whumpee had left.

Whumper leaned in closer, their voice a whisper now, as if sharing a secret meant only for Whumpee.

“But I’m still here. I never left you. I never will. I’m the only one who truly cares about you. You know that, don’t you?”

Whumpee nodded weakly, their mind a tangled mess of confusion and despair. They wanted to believe Whumper, to accept the comfort being offered, but a small part of them still clung to the idea that someone out there, somewhere, still cared for them.

Whumper’s hand reached out, gently wiping away the tears that had begun to fall down Whumpee’s cheeks. Their touch was soft, almost tender, but it felt like a brand against Whumpee’s skin, a reminder of the power Whumper held over them.

“You’re safe here with me,” Whumper murmured, their voice laced with false warmth. “No one else can hurt you now. I’ll protect you, keep you safe from the world that has abandoned you. You don’t need anyone else, my dear. You have me.”

Whumpee’s heart ached at the words, torn between the desire for comfort and the nagging doubt that still lingered in their mind.

They were so tired, so drained from fighting against Whumper’s manipulations, that it was easier to just let go, to allow themselves to be drawn into the false sense of security being offered.

Whumper’s arms wrapped around them, pulling them close in a mockery of an embrace. Whumpee leaned into the touch, seeking solace in the only place they could find it, even though it came from the very person who had shattered them.

As Whumper whispered words of love and devotion, Whumpee’s resistance crumbled further, their sense of reality slipping away. Whumper’s lies were becoming their truth, and Whumpee was too broken to fight it anymore.

Days passed in a blur, Whumpee losing all sense of time as Whumper’s manipulations continued. The small room became their entire world, the outside a distant memory that no longer held any meaning. The only reality they knew was the one Whumper fed them, a carefully constructed web of lies designed to keep them in a state of perpetual dependence.

Whumper’s tactics grew more insidious with each passing day. They would leave Whumpee alone for hours, sometimes even days, letting the silence and isolation gnaw away at their sanity. The room, once merely a cage, became a living nightmare, the walls closing in on Whumpee as their mind spiralled into darkness.

When Whumper did return, it was always with the same sickeningly sweet words, the same false promises of love and care. They would bring Whumpee food and water, sit with them, and speak in a tone that dripped with condescension as if Whumpee were a child in need of guidance.

“You’re so fragile, my dear,” Whumper would say, their voice a honeyed poison. “You need someone to take care of you, someone who won’t leave you like the others did. You can’t survive out there on your own. You need me.”

Whumpee’s heart would break a little more with each word, their mind-twisting itself into knots as they tried to reconcile the person they used to be with the shell they had become.

They knew, deep down, that Whumper was lying, that this was all part of some twisted game. But the more they heard those words, the more they started to believe them.

One day, Whumper entered the room holding a small envelope.

Their smile was cold, calculated, as they handed it to Whumpee.

“I found this while I was out,” they said, their tone dripping with false concern. “It looks like someone finally tried to contact you.”

Whumpee’s hands shook as they took the envelope, their heart pounding in their chest. It had been so long since they had seen any sign of the outside world since they had even dared to hope that someone still cared.

The sight of the envelope, with its familiar handwriting, sent a surge of hope through them, a small spark in the darkness.

But as they opened the envelope and read the contents, that spark was quickly extinguished. The letter was brief, its words cold and distant, as if written by someone who no longer cared.

The message was clear: they had moved on, leaving the Whumpee behind.

Tears welled up in Whumpee’s eyes as they read the letter over and over, the words blurring together as their vision swam with tears.

It felt like the final nail in the coffin, the last shred of hope being ripped away from them. They had truly been abandoned.

Whumper watched with sick satisfaction as Whumpee broke down, their sobs wracking their fragile body.

They moved closer, wrapping their arms around Whumpee and pulling them into their chest, offering the only comfort the Whumpee had left.

“There, there,” Whumper cooed, stroking the Whumpee’s hair with a sickening tenderness. “I know it hurts, but I’m here. I’ll always be here. You don’t need them anymore. You have me.”

Whumpee clung to Whumper, their tears soaking into their captor’s shirt. They were too broken, too defeated to fight back, too desperate for any semblance of love and comfort, even if it came from the very person who had orchestrated their downfall.

As Whumper continued to whisper sweet lies into their ear, Whumpee felt their resolve crumble completely.

The small part of them that had clung to the hope of rescue, of escape, was snuffed out, leaving nothing but a hollow shell behind.

At that moment, They were no longer the person they once were; they were whatever Whumper wanted them to be.

Whumper smiled, pleased with the outcome. They had won, their twisted version of love and devotion finally taking root in Whumpee’s broken mind.

The days blended into each other as Whumpee slipped further into the abyss. They had lost all sense of time, all sense of self. Whumper was their entire world now, the only person who mattered, the only one who hadn’t abandoned them.

They clung to Whumper’s words, finding solace in the lies they had been fed, because the truth was too painful to bear.

But somewhere deep inside, a small spark of resistance still burned, buried beneath layers of despair.

It was a faint, fragile thing, but it was there, refusing to be completely snuffed out. It whispered to Whumpee in the dead of night, reminding them of who they used to be, of the life they once had.

One night, when Whumper was out of the room, Whumpee made a decision.

They would try to escape, to break free from the chains that bound them, even if it meant risking everything. They couldn’t continue living like this, trapped in a nightmare with no end in sight.

Their hands shook as they fumbled with the lock on the door, their heart racing in their chest. They knew that if they were caught, the punishment would be severe, but the thought of spending another day in this hell was unbearable.

They had to try, even if it was a futile effort.

The door creaked open, and Whumpee slipped out into the dark hallway. The mansion was silent, the only sound the faint rustling of the wind outside. Whumpee moved quickly, their bare feet silent on the carpet as they made their way toward the front door.

But as they reached for the handle, a cold hand clamped down on their wrist, freezing them in place. Whumpee’s heart stopped, their breath catching in their throat as they slowly turned to face Whumper.

Whumper’s eyes were cold, devoid of the false warmth they usually displayed. Their grip on Whumpee’s wrist tightened, and Whumpee winced in pain, their mind racing as they tried to think of a way out.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Whumper asked, their voice low and dangerous. “Did you really think you could leave me? After everything I’ve done for you?”

Whumpee stammered, trying to find the words to explain, but Whumper cut them off with a sharp tug, pulling them away from the door and back into the darkness of the hallway.

“You’re ungrateful,” Whumper hissed, their voice dripping with venom. “After everything I’ve done to keep you safe, to protect you, this is how you repay me? By trying to run away?”

Whumpee’s heart sank, their brief moment of hope shattered by Whumper’s words. They had been so close, so close to escaping, but now they were back in Whumper’s grip, with no way out.

Whumper dragged them back to the small room, their grip never loosening as they pushed Whumpee inside, the door slamming shut behind them with a finality that echoed in Whumpee’s ears.

For days, Whumper refused to speak to Whumpee. They left them alone in the room, with no food, no water, no contact. The silence was suffocating, the isolation driving Whumpee to the brink of madness.

They had no idea how much time had passed, only that they were alone, abandoned by the only person who had ever shown them any form of care, twisted as it was.

When Whumper finally returned, Whumpee was a wreck. They were weak, dehydrated, and delirious, their mind fraying at the edges. The sight of Whumper, with their cold smile and cruel eyes, was both a relief and a terror.

Whumper knelt beside Whumpee, their touch gentle as they brushed the hair from Whumpee’s face.

“You’ve learned your lesson, haven’t you, my dear?” they asked, their voice soft and condescending.

Whumpee nodded weakly, too broken to resist, too desperate for any form of comfort to care. They would do anything to avoid Whumper’s wrath, anything to stay in their good graces, no matter how twisted those graces were.

Whumper’s smile widened as they pulled Whumpee into their arms, cradling them like a child. “Good,” they murmured, their voice a sick parody of affection. “I’m glad you understand now. I’m the only one who truly cares about you. No one else matters.”

Whumpee buried their face in Whumper’s chest, clinging to them with the last of their strength.

They were too far gone to fight, too broken to see the truth. All they knew was that they needed Whumper, needed their twisted love and care because it was the only thing keeping them from falling apart completely.

Whumper held Whumpee close, their hand stroking their hair as they whispered words of false comfort. Whumpee had learned their place, had accepted the reality Whumper had created for them, and that was all that mattered.

Whumpee became nothing more than a puppet, their strings pulled by Whumper’s skilled hands. They were no longer a person, but an object, something to be controlled and manipulated, molded into the perfect image of what Whumper desired.

Whumpee lay in Whumper’s arms, their body limp, their mind numb. Whumper stroked Whumpee’s hair, their touch tender in a way that would have seemed loving to anyone on the outside.

But within the walls of the mansion, that touch was a symbol of ownership, of control. Whumpee was theirs, and theirs alone.

As Whumper whispered words of love and devotion, Whumpee closed their eyes, letting the darkness take them. They had nothing left to fight for, no hope, no future.

Whumper smirked, pleased with the outcome.

In their twisted mind, They had succeeded in breaking Whumpee, in remaking them into something new, something that belonged entirely to them.

And as they held Whumpee close, Whumper knew that this was the only kind of love that mattered.

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