#mind control whump

[galaxywhump]

Kidnapping via possession or mind control. No witnesses, because bystanders have no idea that they're watching someone being kidnapped in broad daylight - all they see is a person walking, maybe with a slightly absent look on their face, but nothing warranting a double take. Meanwhile, the person being kidnapped can't call for help, can't do anything to defy whatever force is controlling them. They keep walking towards their doom, powerless to stop what's happening.

[whitecoatwhump]

Bad and naughty test subjects have to sit in the mind wiping chair until they can barely remember how to breathe

[lumpywhump]

mind controlled whumpee who can't trust themself. Whumper can hack into whumpee's head whenever. Whumpee, while fighting whumper with their weapon, has to worry about if they're going to turn in their team mates. Maybe they don't know whumpers limitations so they always have to be on high alert. And then the after math. When whumpee wakes up and sees what they have done. It doesn't matter if caretaker says whumper did it. It was still whumpee's body. If they were strong enough, they would be able to break free, right?

[hurtmyfavsthanks]

I think the best mind control for whump is the type that doesn’t hurt. Hell, make it feel good even; a relaxing numbness over a once panicking mind, a warm pride at each fulfilled order. Control that makes you want to obey just as much as it forces you to.

Make the control sweet, tempting. Make them want to obey; don’t just break their will, make it submit to you. It’ll make their absolute horror and disgust at their actions all the sharper once they break free.

It’s easy to know you fought when you have the memory of the pain to remind you. It’s easier to justify defeat at the hands of overwhelming force and pain, the crushing of the will. But how can Whumpee look at the soft seduction of their will, the almost pleasant corruption of their morals, and believe that they truly tried their best to resist it. They remember how it felt. They remember liking it. And that memory makes one glaring question inescapable: were they defeated, or did they give in?

[stagelightwhump]

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

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

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

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

[marvel-ous-whump]

Magical Mind Control that completely shuts down a Whumpee's mind. leaving them a obedient shell when "Activated" by Whumper. and in a deep, magical sleep when "Deactivated." When Caretaker finds them and rescues them, it takes days for Whumpee to come out from under Whumper's magical influence.

Post Rescue timeline: Days 1-4; Whumpee just floats in darkness. It's quiet, heavy and blissful. Day 5: Whumpee becomes distantly aware of a voice talking to them. it's not Whumper, but comforting none the less. Day 8: Whumpee manages to open their eyes a little. but everything is blurry. Someone's holding them, a hand is in their hair, Whumpee doesn't quite know who it is, but they know they trust this person more than anyone else in the world. Day 12: A light goes off in Whumpee's brain like a lighthouse in pea soup fog. Caretaker! It's Caretaker who's with them. they wish they could speak Caretaker's name, but they're just so Sleepy, they don't have the energy.

Day 13: Whumpee comes to breifly when Caretaker's gently spoon-feeding them some soup. giving Caretaker a feeble smile. Day 15: Whumpee finally wakes up clear-headed and lucid to a teary-eyed Caretaker, hoarsely whispering "Hey."

[abhainnwhump]

Whumpee is fighting Whumper with a group of their friends. Whumpee and Whumper fight one on one and Whumper pins Whumpee down. They don't understand what is happening at first, but then Whumper pushes their palm against Whumpee's head. It starts with burning, then screaming, then the world goes dark. Whumper removes their hand and Whumpee has a mind control rune on their forehead.

"Stand up." Whumpee obeys Whumper's command. With a snap of their fingers, Whumper points to Whumpee's friends. "Kill them."

[bedtimescenarios]

Please write more mind control whump your piece on it was so good

Thank you so much!! Here you go, hope you enjoy! Mind control is so messed up but so fun to write :))

Lillies

CW: manhandling (brief), non-con touch (not sexual), intimate Whumper, mind control and all the autonomous restrictions that come with it

A pained yelp escapes Whumpee's throat as they're practically thrown inside the room by the hair. They stumble to the ground, head instantly perking upward, just in time to notice Whumper's sharp grin widen. They're well aware of the fact that Whumper could've simply made them go back, yet, to their exasperation, Whumper sometimes prefers manhandling them instead. Perks of having a choice.

As Whumpee nearly bumps into a foot of the luxurious bed in the middle of the room, Whumper calmly steps forward, the smile slowly fading as they speak.

"Oh, Whumpee, what were you doing just now?" their voice resounds, impossibly melodic. It takes everything in Whumpee not to flinch as they take another step towards them, dark eyes scanning the smaller form as if they were a lamb set for slaughter.

The gate was unlocked. Did they truly expect them not to take the chance? To not run from this harrowing paradise they've been trapped inside of for... how long has it been again? Whumpee knows their mind is fucked now, but they don't feel like making matters worse in the moment. As much as they try to remain coherent in finding an excuse, they stammer under Whumper's gaze. They absolutely hate it, how the thought of Whumper's abilities alone makes them shiver. "I didn't try anything- I swear, I was just-"

"I gave you certain privileges, Whumpee." They interrupt, tone calm and composed. With their eyebrows slightly raised, forming a small crease in the middle, they give the impression of scolding a child. "You're making me regret trusting you with them."

Whumpee has to physically keep themselves from scoffing. Privileges, right. As in basic personal autonomy. Being able to use their own body has recently become a reward instead of a guarantee. If they could just reach out, stuff Whumper's mouth with a gag and wipe that grin off their face-

Whumper raises an eyebrow, seemingly amused. "That's not a very nice thing to say." They pause, seemingly contemplating their words for a second before correcting themselves. "Or think."

Whumpee's eyes shut tightly, and they bite back a snarky remark, attempting to also wipe it from their mind. While Whumper chuckles, they gather their thoughts. "Look- I was just in the garden, tending to the lillies, nothing else."

Whumper tsks, taking a step so sudden that Whumpee can't help but shrink back. A hint of a smile crosses their face at the sight, and they kneel down next to Whumpee. They reach out a hand, and Whumpee half expects all their thoughts to vanish. Surprisingly, they simply run their fingers through their hair, untangling it with an uncanny gentleness. A moment of silence passes, one that feels like ages to Whumpee. As a stray strand of hair is neatly tucked away from their face, and the hand rests lightly on their cheek, Whumpee's instincts overcome them and they speak up.

"I won't try to leave again, I promise. Just don't-"

"Don't what, Whumpee?" Whumper coos, their thumb brushing against Whumpee's freckles. "Don't melt your pretty brain, make all the thoughts in it evaporate? Don't mould you into the Whumpee that nuzzles their head against my neck and smiles whenever I hand them a flower?"

Whumpee's eyes flicker. These blackouts they experience- the stretches where they’re aware one moment but wake up weeks later- have only been described to them by Whumper. The possibility, or rather the probability, that Whumper is telling the truth is gnawing away at them. They absolutely dread it- being mindless again and not even conscious enough to remember, let alone retaliate.

"That's not me, and you know it." They tilt their head, their tone slightly passive aggressive, yet laced with fear. Still, Whumper doesn't seem to mind.

"Oh, but it is. I know it's hard to admit it, Whumpee, especially since you've never witnessed any of it." They pause, eyes studying them closely, and the expression that flashes across their face is one Whumpee can't identify. It makes their hair stand on end.

"Perhaps I should let you."

When Whumper leans back on their knees, picks a flower from the decorated vase on the edge of the table and reaches for their hand, Whumpee flinches back. Whumper's mouth curls upwards into a soft smile, and they gently pull one of Whumpee's clenched hands open, placing their own on top. As Whumpee tries to shift away, their grip tightens.

"You should know by now there's no point in fighting me."

That's the cue for a blackout, Whumpee thinks. Their heart skips a beat as they don't. Instead, the dull room seems to brighten, a caleidoscopic mix of sun rays and soft, hued particles of dust. They surround Whumpee like stars, expanding magnificently until they all gather around the still smiling figure in front of them. Whumper's eyes seem to gleam, and Whumpee notices for the first time just how sage flecks are splattered across their brown irises, how their dark hair glows in tints of red in the sun... No. no, no.

When Whumper hands them the flower, they want to smack their hand away, yet their body takes it. Their mouth curls into a smile, and they thank Whumper, their body leaning forward and arms wrapping around Whumper. They want to scream as they feel the embrace tighten. Let me go, Whumpee thinks. And Whumper hears it, Whumpee's certain, as they see a hint of a grin on their face as they pull back.

"You're welcome, Whumpee."

Whumpee's stomach churns- or is it just their mind wishing it could?- when they're pulled to their feet by the hand and they smile wider at their captor. Let me go, they repeat in their mind, but their body doesn't say it. Their body keeps their fingers intertwined with Whumper's, thumb brushing against their knuckles.

"This is my home. Thank you for making me realize it." Their mouth says, and they wish they'd settled for the blackouts.

"You're such a sweetheart," Whumper murmurs. "Let's continue tending to the lillies together."

[whumpsoda]

vampire whumper puts whumpee in a strightjacket. But they're now so enthralled. That the straight jacket feel like a hug from them. so they fall asleep

WOHEO Masterlist

Loved this, dunno if I did it justice but it was definitely enjoyable to imagine!!

Anyways I need sleep

Taglist- @softvampirewhump

cw: hypnosis, restraints

———————————————————————

“Get-! Get offa’ me! Let me go!” Malak thrashed against the restraints, while desperately trying to shake off the vampire’s grip on his limbs. 

Adrastus sighed disappointedly, shaking their head. “You are in no spot to make such demands after the stunt you just pulled.” They made the last of the adjustments to Malak’s newest punishment, a difficult task when he refused to calm himself. “So, so naughty. This is what happens when you try running from Master.”

Malak wrestled with the confines of his straight jacket prison, to no avail. Adrastus looked him over, a saddened expression plastered across their face. “Maybe you’ll finally learn from your mistakes. I can’t believe you would do such a thing.” They stroked a finger down their captive’s cheek, which he quickly rejected.

They sighed. “I’ve treated you so well, and all I’ve gotten in return is malice. All the love I’ve shown you, and this is what I get? Bad boy.” They wagged their finger in front of his face, which only flushed with a mix of anger, anxiety and embarrassment. “I do suppose it’ll all be over soon, though, once you’ve finally succumbed to your fate of being an eager little pet.”

“I’m not- I’m not your fucking pet! Let! Me! Go!” He wailed, still jerking about on the floor. 

Adrastus just laughed, a hint of anger present themself. “How foolish you are,” they pushed to their feet with a grunt. “I’ll leave you here to think about what you’ve done. Bye bye, my dear.”

Malak followed them with darting eyes as they sauntered to the door, before exiting with a condescending grin. “Take this off me! Let-! I need-! Please!” The vampire either didn’t hear him, or simply didn’t care. 

He slumped against the wall behind him with a huff, his sweat tainted hair sticking to the plaster. Malak took in ragged breaths, worn from his short lived escape attempt and countless shrieks.

A concoction of both fear and fury bubbled in his stomach, exiting through several more enraged hollers. “Fuck you! Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you!” Each repetition scratched at his throat, running it red and raw. 

His vision started blurring with salty moisture as he shouted, his head swaying along. “F- f- fuck, fuck you!” Ignoring better judgement he continued his tirade, disorder scattering his thoughts.

With each following word, his tongue grew heavy, his voice like a slurry weighing it down. “Fuck, um, let… um, let me… um…” In an instant his eyes grew glassy, and his brain confusingly slow. 

With his thoughts so distant, his voice died right in his throat. Why was he yelling again? Good boys weren’t supposed to yell, Master said so.

“Ah-!” Malak jumped as his muscles convulsed, sending the back of his head bashing into the wall behind him. Lurching in pain, his eyes grew wide and alive, his psyche returning in a rush of cognition. With a strung out groan, he breathed a shaky sigh of relief. A stray tear dribbled to his chin.

It was happening more and more often. Moments where he was pulled from reality, his perception twisted and molded by the second, succumbing to countless nights of patient conditioning. Forcing him to think and believe things the vampire wanted him too. As horrified as he was to admit it, Adrastus’ modifications were definitely working in their favor.

And it all happened so fast, his mind buckled so quickly it was difficult to stop. If Malak didn’t escape soon, he’d be like that forever.

Stupid and eager to please, confused with a cotton filled head. Obedient and docile, malleable and… compliant. 

Dutiful… and trained.

Warm and loved and cherished.

He shook and writhed, pounding his restrained limbs upon the hardwood floor. “Get out of my head!” He shrieked, wriggling and flailing.

With each tug and fight on the fabric restraining him, it almost felt as if the jacket was growing tighter. Almost like arms wrapping him in a warm, tender hug. 

A strange sound of guttural fear and anger escaped his lips at the thought, as he began rolling and fighting with less and less spirit. With each thrust of his limbs a silver chain holding his legs rattled and skid across the wood. Gathering all of the strength he had, Malak beat his flesh against the solid flooring, agony searing into his bones.

Again, again, again, until he physically couldn’t anymore. He collapsed in a pile of anguish, choking back livid sobs and fat tears. 

Why him? What had he ever done to deserve being plucked from his home by a blood sucking monster? One so adamant on turning his brain to mush?

The snug embrace that enveloped him was his tired body’s only comfort in the moment, cuddling him genially. Malak nuzzled into it, clawing for the slightest of consolement. 

He allowed the easement to take advantage of him, desperate for any sort of solace. Carefully, his breaths evened and relaxed with the gentle rise and fall of his chest as he swallowed his dismay. His lip quivered ever so slightly, while his eyelids grew heavy.

Would it… be so bad to give in?

The thought snuck in, but this time He didn’t shake it away.

Just this once? Everything hurt, he was so exhausted and weary, and the jacket was almost like a pillowy blanket. Why should he deny himself the cozyness and only make himself feel worse?

Just this once. He could fight back again tomorrow, couldn’t he?

Content with his sound reasoning, Malak allowed his lids to flutter to a close. After such an intense struggle the embrace was so heavenly to give in to, and he couldn’t help but smile, just a bit.

[entity56]

We all know about mind controlled Whumpees, but what about mind controlled Caretakers?

Whumpee had just started to fully trust Caretaker, feel safe around them, when Whumper got their hands on them. Now, out of the blue, Caretaker seemingly turns on Whumpee. They use the same insults and tactics and commands as Whumper, and they seem exactly the same as Whumper was. Maybe this is momentary, just to give them a scare, or maybe it lasts long enough to give Whumpee the sensation of going through what they'd just gotten out of again. And when Caretaker finally comes out of it, Whumpee is either gone, or (physically/mentally) severely injured and won't even look them in the eye.

[redd956]

Hear me out!

Whumper possessing Caretaker to hurt Whumpee

Thoughts?

[snakebites-and-ink]

Ok, don’t get me wrong, I love me a whumper with mind control powers. But what about a Caretaker with mind control powers who can only help Whumpee through Whumper?

For whatever reason, Caretaker can't actually get to Whumpee or get them out of there. (Maybe they're someplace really isolated?) But their powers can reach there. So to help Whumpee, Caretaker uses the only other person available there: Whumper. They treat their wounds as well as they can get away with, hold them gently, exchange words of comfort. 

It’s frightening at first: however gentle they’re being now, those are still Whumper’s hands, Whumper’s face, Whumper’s voice. But maybe over time Whumpee starts to latch onto the subtle differences in Caretaker’s mannerisms.

They have to be careful never to leave a clear trace; Caretaker can't keep the control up forever, and if Whumper finds out they'll surely take it out on Whumpee, and maybe even find a way to block Caretaker from helping altogether. First aid supplies being carefully removed when their time is almost up, tears as Whumpee realizes what that means. But Caretaker won't give up; they'll help Whumpee again whenever they can. 

Whumper doesn’t understand how, after all this time, Whumpee can hear them coming into the basement and still look up with hope in their eyes.

[whitecoatwhump]

Today's vibe:

The very normal experience of being so stressed all you can think about is being assimilated into a drone hivemind and losing all capability of individual thought. You may not be yourself, but at least you have several thousand new best friends you're constantly connected to and work alongside

[lumpywhump]

Whumper with telepathy digging through whumpee's mind for info... only to find nothing but whumpee's current hyperfixation.

bonus points if whumper then consumes the media and hyperfixates with whumpee

bonus bonus if whumper was watching the show/movie/video game/book and trying to avoid spoilers and and and... yeahhhhhh whumper isn't happy about the spoilers in whumpee's head.

[hurtmyfavsthanks]

spinning off of the death being peaceful idea, what about possession? like. character is possessed, and instantly thrown into a bone deep peace, floating in darkness away from their body, oscillating between the void that held them and awakening within their own most peaceful memories. after they’re freed, the can’t sleep. they’d always had anxiety, but after feeling what it was like to be safe…they couldn’t function.

(context)

Oh I love that!! Honestly I’m a big fan of ideas that focus on Whumpee’s mental state and experience while being possessed/mind controlled/ect. I think it can be very interesting, not to mention what sort of recovery would be needed after. It’s a niche interest but VERY high on my list of favorite tropes. 

I really like this idea, because it makes possession tempting to some capacity. It’s helplessness yes, but it’s helplessness that comes with a level of relief you couldn’t get otherwise. It’s control that makes you miss it afterwards, even after you’ve come back to your senses. And I’m so normal about that (lying). 

Just like, imagine. A team coming into fight a superpowered Whumper, unsure of what exactly they’ll face but armed to the teeth and hopefully ready for whatever they’ll face. 

There are more dangerous people on the team than Whumpee. There’s the powerful leader and their trusted second in command, both staring ahead with sharp eyes and trained confidence. There’s the medic standing near, prepared to offer support at a moment’s notice. The team would be greatly hindered with the loss of any one of them. But Whumper isn’t looking for the short term victory.

When Whumper’s eyes glow with power, when their hand extends towards their opponents, it’s Whumpee that they point to.

There’s a reason for it. The shadows beneath their eyes, the anxious wringing of their hands, the perpetual look of worry plastered on their face even before the battle began…one look at Whumpee and Whumper knows exactly who they’re dealing with. Whumper knows their type very, very well.

Whumpee feels the domination like a chill that settles on their body and refuses to leave. A chill that grabs onto their very being and pulls them down. Down beyond their body and the ground beneath them, down into  a darkness miles away from their team. 

 The last thing Whumpee does before their eyes go blank is let out a startled, choked scream.

Whumpee had expected it to hurt. They’d prepared for it, every muscle tightening in the millisecond between realizing they’d been targeted and succumbing to Whumper’s power. But the force pulling their mind down never tightens to the point of agony. Whumpe isn’t crushed, but embraced, swatted in a grip that's both gentle and inescapable. 

 It doesn't hurt. Despite the chill they’d felt, the darkness they’re sinking into isn’t cold. It’s warm and cozy, like the tempting comfort of their bed on a cold morning. They can’t hear the tense voices of their teammates or even their own pounding heartbeat. The dark is silent, but not unplesantly so.

It’s peaceful.

And I LOVE the idea of their positive memories being used to trap them. In the brief moments where their consciousness isn’t entirely engulfed in peaceful silence, Whumpee is surrounded by their friends. Smiling and peaceful and happy, not a hint of stress on any of their features. When the darkness splits apart, Whumpee finds themselves reliving the most comforting moments, surrounded by joy and free from stress. 

Whumpee knows something is wrong. They haven’t forgotten Whumper, haven’t forgotten those finally, terrifying moments before they were overcome. And yet the terror that should come with that memory never comes. There isn’t an ounce of fear or stress left in them, as if those emotions remained in their now distant body. Even their usual anxiety—the constant vigilante their work required, the general worries and stresses of life—had simply vanished into thin air. 

Whumpee felt light, as if the very concept of fear had been stripped from their mind. There were no worries about the future or even the present, no discontentment. They hadn’t felt that content in their entire life. 

There, embraced by that peace, it’s hard to care about something happening so, so far away from them. It’s easier to snuggle into the warmth, embrace the peace, and rest. 

The next time they open their eyes—their eyes, the ones sat in the body they’d been locked out of for minutes or hours or days—Whumpee is on the ground. 

They hurt. They’re becoming aware of throbbing aches across their body, something wet and warm dripping down their face. They can feel snapped bones in their fingers, pulsing with the heartbeat that sounds too loud in their ears. Whumpee’s body was returned to them bruised and aching. 

Their heart is pounding, mind swirling with disorientation and growing dread. Their fear pours back into them alongside the pain. 

It takes a moment for their vision to clear. When it does, they see Caretaker’s face above them. There’s tears in their eyes, expression warped with fear and hope. They’re bleeding, littered with bruises just like Whumpee is. 

Slowly, with Caretaker’s help, they sit up. Their teammates look down at them with worry and poorly hidden anxiety. Whumper is nowhere to be seen. 

They all return to their base, eventually. Whumpee doesn’t remember anything of the fight, They only remember the quiet, peaceful rest.  But the bruises on their fists match those on Leader’s face. Their body aches from a struggle they can’t remember, there’s blood under Whumpee’s nails that they know isn’t their own. 

Whumpee doesn’t ask what Whumper made them do. They let their eyes glaze over as they’re debriefed, mind skittering away from that painful truth. Nobody pushes them to remember. 

It’s difficult, trying to return to normalcy. Everything is simply overwhelming. Whumpee’s filled with a constant anxiety that can’t shake, their nerves burning with a newfound sensitivity. Their body aches with the evidence of a fight they don’t remember, making proper rest impossible to achieve. They can’t stop noticing the worried glances their team gives them, the bruises still lingering on their bodies. 

Whumpee can’t stop noticing the way Caretaker flinches when Whumpee moves too quickly around them, only to hide it behind a guilty smile. The guilt Whumpee feels at the sight hurts most of all. 

It’s exhausting. Existing, suddenly, is overwhelmingly exhausting. They’re on edge like they’ve never been before, guilt and pain burning holes in their mind. 

Whumpee misses the quiet. They miss the peace helplessness provided, the safety from the anxiety they’re constantly faced with. It makes them sick, sends a nauseating wave of self loathing up their throat, and yet that feeling itself only makes the longing stronger. 

Nothing compares to it. No amount of sleeping medication desperately swallowed, no amount of weighted blankets, nothing can recreate that serenity. Whumper gave them a taste of true, pure peace, and now their mind cannot settle for anything less. 

Whumper isn’t surprised when, two weeks later, Whumpee crawls back to them like a sick dog. 

They look horrible. The deep eyebags carved into their eyes are darker than the bruises still littering their body. They’ve lost weight since Whumper last saw them. 

Whumpee looks exhausted. They look disgusted with themselves, a look of self loathing etched into their face. They look desperate. 

They look exactly like Whumper expected them to. Whumper knows their type very well. 

This time, Whumpee doesn’t flinch as Whumper calls their power. They don’t brace themselves for pain. 

This time, the last thing Whumpee does before being submerged is gasp out a sob of relief.

[stagelightwhump]

Turn blorbo into your whumpee? No.

Turn whumpee into your blorbo.

Completely alter their appearance, from their hair color, eye color, even their height and weight should be changed to match your blorbo's. Make them unrecognizable as anybody but them.

Then, the fun part. Training them to act like blorbo. Shock collars, hypnosis, whips, or even hijacking their brain entirely, be it through magic or machinery. Beat down whatever personality they came with, and install the correct one overtop. Make them genuinely believe that they are blorbo, and that they've always been blorbo.

Now, you have your own version of blorbo, one who you can re-torture, or take care of, or train to torment others, at a much lower cost than you'd pay if you hunted down blorbo yourself. It's clearly the superior option, right?

Of course it is.