#therapist whumpee

[whumpwordsoftheday]

“I guess…I’m just scared of ending up like my dad, someone who doesn’t really care about anyone else. And I feel like if I don’t reblog all those posts about important issues, it’ll make me a bad person”

“I don’t think that makes you a bad person. But um having me locked inside your basement kind of does.”

“…ok well that’s different, it’s self care.”

[another-whump-sideblog]

“Why don’t you talk to Caretaker about it? I’m sure they didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.”

“If I went and talked about it every time someone hurt my feelings that’s all I’d ever talk about.”

“…what do you mean by that?”

[lumpywhump]

tw: selfharm

when whumpee knows only one way to stall their feelings.... when whumpee doesn't want caretaker to see them.... so they purposely find places that caretaker would never see. If caretaker sees, then they'd be sad.... whumpee can't let them be sad because of whumpee.... not when they own them so much

[runredrabb1t]

Love me some good old fashioned psychological whump.

Defiant whumpee expecting and being ready/ used to violence but instead being met with the punishment of solitary confinement.

After a day or two, or maybe weeks, they finally crack, they break down. Sobbing, begging, pleading.

Scratching and banging at the door.

Screams of “let me out!” Turn into sobs of “I’m sorry” and “I’ll be good”

When Whumper opens the door, whumpee is huddled in a corner, both physical and mental exhaustion written all over them.

Whumpee looks up, tears welling up “I’m sorry”

Whumper “I’m glad to see you’ve learned”

Now any threats of solitary confinement are met with complete obedience from whumpee

————————————————————————

Why is it so appealing ?

Why whump gotta be like daydreaming crack ?

[a-living-canvas]

Based on my experience(not cool) :)

A Tethered Scream

"And then he what?"

Whumpee cleared their throat.

"And then he…he whipped me..on the back…many, many times…" Whumpee told the therapist. Tears welled up in their eyes.

"It was…so bad. It's painful, it's—"

"Don't you think you are overreacting?"

…What?

Whumpee blinked their tears away, looking at the therapist in disbelief. "Why would you say that…?"

The therapist scoffed. He wrote something in his notepad, or just doodling on it. "My father used to beat me up everyday. It's not that bad."

...

Silence enveloped them for a moment as Whumpee processed the therapist's words.

"But—"

"Bad things happened to everyone. Everyone. Not just you. Get over it."

Whumpee clenched their teeth, feeling invalidated. They felt a lot worse now rather than before they entered the room. They looked down, not daring to fight the therapist.

"Listen, I'm not trying to blame you but-"

He pushed the box of tissues towards Whumpee. "Maybe you should be more positive. There must be a reason for what happened to you…happened. You can't blame it on your kidnapper, he's just doing his work."

Whumpee scowled at that. "So it's okay for him to torture me??"

"It's a part of the lesson, Whumpee. Life is all about learning."

The therapist wrote something again, his expression calm. When he looked up at Whumpee, they could tell that he thought Whumpee was being silly. Ridiculous.

"That's all for today."

Whumpee sighed, standing up from the chair and walked to the door. "Thank you for your time."

~

@nothing-but-glitter-and-lashes @watermelons-dont-grow-on-trees @failgiao891 @jennyyy007 @valravnthefrenchie @heyyitsworld @risk606 @possumhoe @theforeverdyingperson

@electrons2006♡

[whumpasaurus101]

“It’s alright,” Villain whispered against Hero’s ear, ensuring SuperVillain couldn’t hear, “I know you’re hurting, you don’t have to be strong for me.”

[distinctlywhumpthing]

Hugh

Masterlist

Late-19th century whump. A little backstory that popped into my head. This is probably a year and a half before Hugh helps hold August down for first aid.

The first time Wyatt lays eyes on him, he almost dismisses it as a trick of the light. 

It’s pissing down. A rainfall so unrelenting, it hits the ground twice. He’s only lucky enough to catch a glimpse of the boy because Theo’s word has sent him looking down every alley and around every corner. A week and no sightings have him questioning Theo’s reason but not the continued search. 

“This one looks like he’s never known warmth.” 

Theo’s words have been running through his mind since he heard them. Some misguided hope pushing him to prove Theo was laying it on too thick. 

Between a stack of crates and sacks of rubbish, a flash of pale skin and a sharp elbow. An even sharper chin when the boy turns, sensing himself observed, and he’s gone. 

Wyatt rushes down the alley after him, cobblestones slick underfoot. He bursts onto the street, skidding to a halt to squint through the rain but there’s no sign of the boy. 

It’s another fortnight before Wyatt sees him again. 

He starts to wonder if the boy caught his death, coatless on the streets in a late-October rain that fell without pause into November. The thought doesn’t stop him checking all the nooks and crannies everywhere he goes. 

The boy has his back pressed against a shed in the alley beside a bakery. A lamp illuminates the mouth of the alley. One step closer and his shadow will be the alarm that sends the boy running. With a few yard’s head start, there’s no hope of catching him this time either. Wyatt stays where he is. A full five minutes he waits, afraid to even reach up to ash his cigarette, the boy just as still. Hiding but to what end? He’s looking away so there’s no telling where his focus is. Still wearing the same short-sleeved undershirt, no jacket or coat to speak of. He’s rail thin and visibly shivering.  

When the boy finally turns, he stiffens immediately, tension visible in the wiry muscles of his forearm. His unkempt hair is a dark curtain over his profile but as he pauses, a short huff of breath is visible in the winter air. The vapour hasn’t even dissipated before he slips down the throat of the alley and lets the city swallow him.  

Wyatt doesn’t stop the third time. 

The boy is tucked behind a stack of empty barrels behind a pub, legs folded up against his chest. In the few strides it takes Wyatt to walk by, the boy passes something between his thin fingers, carefully setting it down with a few other objects collected at his feet. He doesn’t look up and Wyatt lets himself get too optimistic. 

Needless to say, he’s gone an hour later.

Wyatt sighs, hand carrying a small jug of milk and a pasty falling to his side. Perhaps it would have been better to try to speak to him, empty words or not. 

He gives the closest barrel a half-hearted kick of frustration and something clinks against the cobblestones. Wyatt stoops, ducking into the alcove and marveling at how the boy managed to fit in such a space. He finds a pristine-white seashell and a tiny bell the size of his fingertip. It’s a cheap thing, crudely hammered into the small shape, gold paint on the tin scratched and chipped. Twisting his arm at angles he would not normally volunteer, Wyatt discovers the rest of the hidden cache. 

He leaves it undisturbed, replacing the felled treasures and his optimism with them. Wyatt tucks the bottle of milk and the wrapped pie in the niche. He hurries off, lest the boy find him lurking and stay away all the longer.   

The next day, Wyatt returns to a bottle full and the food uneaten. Untouched would be a better term, as though the boy has marked it forbidden even to the vermin. Wyatt already knows the collection will be gone but he checks anyway. He could laugh, save the fact that the task of finding the boy has been stalking him as much as the other way around. Every time he steps out, any time he can’t sleep. Just another loop around the block, a quick check down a quiet lane, a diversion down the East side of the river. 

Theo tells him to throw the towel in. “Maybe he doesn’t want to be found.” 

He doubles down. 

Now he’s looking for something in particular. He catches sight of him a handful of times in the coming weeks. Never in the same place twice, never for longer than flash. 

It takes weeks. 

But the city isn’t as infinite as it seems. The perfect stage is inevitable. 

In the quietest hour before dawn, Wyatt does his usual rounds. He makes a habit of checking in on the boys who work the night shift before their replacements arrive. After a smoke with Tom on the bridge, Wyatt weaves his way behind a block of riverside houses, moss-covered garden walls stretching along one side. The smoke rises from the chimneys in thin whisps, hearths waiting to be reawakened after the home’s inhabitants. He passes the same hound as always, sleeping on the back step of the last house. 

He’s about to turn left at a dead end when he sees him. Sitting up on the wall, one foot swinging and the other knee pulled to his chest. The boy’s head snaps up, leg lifting in the same motion like he’s on a marionette string, moving to drop to the other side of the wall. 

“Wait,” Wyatt calls, gentling his voice. 

Even in the soft light, Wyatt can see his eyes narrow, but for some reason he pauses. 

Wyatt pulls one of Midge’s hand pies out of his pocket, wrapped in paper and tied with kitchen twine, something he’s never without these days. The boy can surely see it but Wyatt lifts it to show him anyway, then places it on the ground and takes a few steps away. 

The boy is not impressed. 

But the dog from the last house is. It rises from the ground, lifting its nose to smell the air. Not quite brave or hungry enough to skirt in front of Wyatt for the prize, but locked onto the scent. 

Wyatt takes another step away, in the direction of his turn, leaving a straight path between the dog and the pie, the boy watching scrupulously from the wall. 

The hound takes a hesitant step forward. 

Seeing Wyatt’s end, the boy curls his hands into fists. He glares daggers at Wyatt, not even bothering to watch the dog continue its advance. 

Wyatt is hard-pressed to hide his smirk, wondering if the huffed growl came from the hound or the boy. He scarcely breathes as he watches the standoff, thrilled with his gamble. No matter the end, he’ll learn something about this scrappy street shadow. Whether he likes it or not.

At the last second, the boy springs off the wall, snatching the little parcel from close enough to be bitten. But the hound only sits, hopeful for a morsel as he watches the boy bound over the wall, pausing only to throw a last bitter look at Wyatt before he disappears. 

@whumpy-writings @deluxewhump @no-whump-on-main @maracujatangerine @painsandconfusion

@wolfeyedwitch @briars7 @gala1981 @redwingedwhump @whumpflash

@poeticagony-blog @annablogsposts @fleur-alise @melancholy-in-the-morning @crystalquartzwhump

@magziemakeswhatever @neverthelass @cakeinthevoid @inkstainsonmyhands12 @morning-star-whump

[what-if-i-just-did]

Bubble Water Whump

(tw for autistics being forced to do something they're averse to and a conditioned whumpee, very brief mentions of sensory depravation, unconsensual haircuts, and vampire whumpees and also there's a description of begging)

an autistic whumpee who really really has a texture thing being forced to only drink bubble water, and if their whumper catches them drinking water from the taps/shower, no amount of pleading or begging will stop them from using that one thing that scares them most (sensory depravation, hair cut off, the sun for vampire whumpees, etc). When they wake up in the hospital, they're given normal water- and miliseconds after drinking it, they're sobbing, in position and begging, they didn't know, they didn't know, please don't punish them it wasn't on purpous please!

[knightoflove]

Personally I’m a big fan of both Whump and angst. Put those characters in that jar of terrible, heartbreaking situations and shake them violently. See what happens. Make them cry.

[weirdstrangeandawful]

As someone who was hurt and traumatised by a therapist who I was forced to see… I didn’t know how much I needed therapist whumper.

And just consider the system built up around your therapist whumper that just… allows that to happen

Whumper is a therapist, and uses the therapy sessions to weed out potential whumpees they can kidnap, train/condition, and sell to other whumpers.

The conditioning starts during the therapy sessions, helping that angry whumpee channel through violence so they can become a living weapon.

The patient who feels like they’re not enough starts being told to have hookups and buy sexier clothes so they can become someone’s bedroom partner.

That patient who’s chronically stressed and burnt out is the easiest to condition, and gets sold as a pet fairly quickly.

Does anyone notice how all these missing people have the same therapist?

Do the whumpees ask to go back to their therapist? Do they continue to see their patients after they’re sold to help keep them conditioned?

How much is Whumper charging their patients? How much to they charge the other whumpers?

@demetercabingreen-thumb

[whumpwordsoftheday]

“I can’t believe whumper would ever do this to anyone. They seemed so normal”

“Yeah, that was just a front. I remember they would spend hours beating me up and telling me about all the things their coworkers did that made them mad. Sorry, what was your name again?”

“Oh, it’s Tracy”

“You’re that jerk who stole everyone’s good pens!”

[bilightningwhumper]

I'm planning on doing this myself, but it's too good an idea not to share (and I know it's been done in a few books/stories I've read, but I can't remember which ones):

Basically, a whumpee who journals. Maybe it was started by a therapist or someone else suggesting it to them. Or by them finding a pencil and paper during captivity and just deciding to write down their thoughts. But each entry is their unfiltered feelings and thoughts and hopes and dreams. Meticulously hidden from their whumper or written after they're free.

Imagine caretaker for some reason reading some of the entries (either by accident or with permission). How the ones they see "aren't that bad" according to whumpee but breaks the caretaker's heart.

How some entries become less and less defiant and more conditioned or defeated, depending on the whumpee.

Just, whumpees who journal. It doesn't happen enough, imo.

[mj-iza-writer]

In honor of the 4th of July fireworks going around my house... it sounds terrifying out here.

Caretaker watched Whumpee dip their cookies in milk.

It was noisy around the house with everyone celebrating, and Caretaker made sure to get Whumpee's noise canceling headphones on them as soon it started.

They heard their phone ring in the kitchen so they quickly got up.

"Hello this is Caretaker... how can I help?"

"C.. Caretaker", a voice shakingly whispered.

"Oh Lawrence, are you alright?", Caretaker frowned.

"N-no", they answered, "I-I can't.... these fireworks... the flashbacks are really strong", they answered.

"Okay Lawrence, I'm coming to get you okay, I'll be right over. Pack an overnight bag, I'll bring you here for as long as you need", Caretaker went and grabbed Whumpee.

"So what is happening?", Whumpee pulled one of their ear covers up.

"Do you remember Lawrence?", Caretaker hurried through the neighborhood.

"Yes sir", Whumpee nodded.

"Well they are a veteran, who fought in a big war", Caretaker watched as Whumpee looked at some fireworks, "and do you know how you have flashbacks sometimes from what happened to you?"

"Yes sir", Whumpee nodded.

"Sometimes Lawrence and others may have flashbacks from those days that they served. These fireworks sound like explosions sometimes. They have a PTSD response like your therapist calls it", Caretaker waited for a car to slowly past, "you could go a little faster bud", Caretaker mumbled under their breath, "I got a war veteran and a trauma victim I need to get to safety."

"Are they alright?", Whumpee whispered with concern.

"They called, that's why we are going to get them", Caretaker turned into the driveway, "I'll be right back."

Whumpee nodded and watched Caretaker get out.

Caretaker led a person out of the house and to the car. They were wrapped in a blanket.

Whumpee could hear them sobbing before they even got into the car.

"Lawrence, I'm going to get your bag and keys, I'll make sure the door is locked", Caretaker whispered.

The person nodded and quickly covered their ears.

"I'm not there... I'm not there.... I'm not there", Whumpee heard them whisper reassuringly to themself.

They pulled their noise canceling headphones the rest of the way off and gently rubbed Lawrence's shoulder.

The person jumped and looked back at them with a horrified face.

"Sorry", Whumpee whispered, "loud sounds make me have flashbacks to. These will cancel out most of the noise."

Lawrence looked at Whumpee for a few moments before reaching for the ear covers.

"Th-thankyou", they shakingly put them on.

Caretaker got in and looked at them both before taking off.

"Whumpee I have another pair of those at home for them. They'll be a little bigger and more comfortable. Then you'll get yours back",

Whumpee nodded.

Caretaker gently led Lawrence into the house. Whumpee followed quickly behind. A loud bang put a little pep in their step.

"Mmm", Whumpee muffled a yelp.

"Okay, let's get you both settled", Caretaker gave a concerned look to Whumpee.

Caretaker settled Lawrence onto the living room couch. They grabbed a bigger pair of headphones, and quickly switched them out.

Whumpee excitedly put their pair back on.

The curtains were drawn closed.

Whumpee went back to their cookies and a fresh cup of milk Caretaker served them.

Lawrence was not ready for a snack at the moment. They had settled a little now.

Lawrence looked at Caretaker sadly.

They lifted one of the ear covers, "I-I'm so sorry for calling you like that. I-I didn't know what else to do", their lip quivered, "I couldn't..."

"Hey, it's okay", Caretaker walked over to them, "I told you whenever you needed me, I would help you. I am happy to help you as much as you'll let me. I wish that you'd let me help you more, but I don't push it."

Lawrence nodded.

"You can stay here as long as you need to. It is hard to be alone and to deal with these traumas", Caretaker patted Lawrence's knees, "I am here to help you."

Lawrence watched as Whumpee happily played with a puzzle.

They took down the ear covers again right when a loud firecracker went off. They jumped off of the couch.

"You know those work better when they stay on your ears", Caretaker helped them back down onto the couch.

"I-I'm sorry", they shook, "I wanted to ask about them though. They said loud sounds affect them as well, and I know you take care of trauma victims. What happened to them?"

"Oh, a lot of things", Caretaker frowned, then looked at Whumpee, "I forgot you haven't met them yet. It has been a while since you've been over. I can't really talk openly about what happened to them."

"Classified?", Lawrence frowned.

"Not really, but it's uh... just not something I like to talk about", Caretaker frowned, "it's uh... a lot of things happened to them."

"But they're smiling?", Lawrence frowned.

"Well it's not always like this. Right now they are relaxed. They trust that I have full control of what's around them", Caretaker smiled, "they go to a therapist... hint.. hint."

"I know you are big into therapist, but I'm not sure about that yet", Lawrence frowned, "I've thought about it, I really have, but I don't know."

"Well if you ever decide to, I will happily come with you if you want", Caretaker stood, "go ahead and get comfortable."

Caretaker gently tapped on Whumpee's shoulder.

"I see you are getting sleepy, and it is bed time", Caretaker gently smiled.

Whumpee yawned sleepily and nodded.

"Do you want to be in your bed tonight, or you could sleep down here on that couch", Caretaker pointed, "Lawrence has already fallen asleep so I'm going to sleep down here in my chair so they won't be alone."

Whumpee looked at the couch, then at Lawrence snoring away.

"May I stay down here with you", Whumpee whispered.

"Yes of course you can", Caretaker smiled, "go ahead and get ready for bed. I'll get the couch ready for you."

Whumpee came down to the living room and found Caretaker placing their pillow on the couch.

"It looks so comfy", Whumpee smiled, "are you sure you'll be okay on your chair?"

"Yes Whumpee that chair is very comfortable", Caretaker smiled while they guided Whumpee onto the couch, "plus I'd rather be ready if either of you need me", they watched as Whumpee laid down, and covered them with a blanket.

Whumpee smiled as Caretaker placed their stuffed toy under the blanket.

"Thankyou", Whumpee whispered.

"You're welcome", Caretaker smiled, "do you want the headphones back on?", they got down and knelt beside Whumpee.

"No thankyou", Whumpee looked at them happily.

Caretaker softly carded through Whumpee's hair a few times while whispering a few gentle words.

They didn't realize Lawrence had been squinting at them. Watching.

They quickly closed their eyes when Caretaker stood. They felt someone come over and adjust their blanket.

Lawrence saw the light was turned off. All that was on was a nightlight now.

Caretaker got comfortable in their chair and took a second to listen to their guest.

Whumpee made small snores already, they were on their way to a good night of rest.

Caretaker could hear that Lawrence was breathing. They weren't snoring like earlier, and hoped they hadn't disturbed them to much while getting Whumpee settled.

Soon though Caretaker was asleep.

Lawrence laid in the dark. It was peaceful here, what they wouldn't give to have to have peace like this.

In the morning Lawrence woke up and looked around. They remembered quickly that they weren't home.

They could hear someone in a different room. The headphones had gotten knocked off during the night.

Whumpee still slept on the couch nearby.

They got up and followed the voice until they found Caretaker in the kitchen.

"Hey goodmorning", Caretaker smiled at them when they came in, "how did you sleep?"

"I slept well, thankyou so much for bringing me here and letting me... well you know", Lawrence sighed.

"You're welcome", Caretaker nodded, "I made coffee. Would you like some?"

"Oh yes please", Lawrence nodded.

"Okay go ahead and take a seat at the table", Caretaker pulled out a cup, "I was thinking, would you like to know a little more about Whumpee? I have a journal that you can look at. It talks a little about their first month here. There's also pictures. It will turn your stomach though."

"I was watching you both last night... just a little. What I wouldn't give to have peace like you both have", Lawrence took the cup of coffee, "thankyou."

"Well I know I sound like a broken record, but we both go to therapy. We both receive help through that", Caretaker sat down with a cup of coffee, "it does help."

"You see a therapist even?", Lawrence smirked.

Caretaker nodded, "everyone should see one. At least that's my belief. With everything I see here and my patients. I go to see one because as a caregiver I can easily allow my patients' pain to become mine. If I'm not careful, that could greatly impact my mental and physical health. Therefore, that would impact my patient's care and my job."

Lawrence seemed to understand a little but they seemed to be uncertain still.

"Can I at least show you a picture from that journal? I wouldn't blame you if you don't want to see and read all of it, but just one picture?", Caretaker stood when Lawrence nodded.

Caretaker carried out a book and set it on the table. They opened it to the first page.

"Pictures like these are taken by the police and investigators. These are when Whumpee was first rescued", Caretaker turned one more page.

Lawrence saw it.

"That's not Whumpee?", Lawrence frowned, "please tell me that's not them."

"It is", Caretaker sighed sadly, "that's them."

"How long ago was this?", Lawrence frowned, "I honestly wasn't expecting... that."

"No one really does", Caretaker agreed, "especially with how Whumpee acts. Don't get it wrong. They have hard days. They have days where they show just how much trauma they've gone through. Then they have days when they are happy to be alive."

"I guess I understand that", Lawrence nodded, "okay you talked me into it. Who's the therapist then?"

An appointment was scheduled by the time Whumpee woke up. Caretaker helped and promised to go with Lawrence if they wanted.

After breakfast, Lawrence was ready to go home. Caretaker let them keep the noise canceling headphones as well.

"I'll get more of them soon", Caretaker grinned at Whumpee, "please don't be afraid of calling me. If you need help just ask... I am more than ready to help you."

"Thankyou Caretaker so much for helping me", Lawrence smiled, "thankyou Whumpee for helping me as well."

"You're welcome", Whumpee smiled.

Lawrence's heart hurt for how happy someone could seem after going through what Whumpee had.

"Thankyou again", Lawrence nodded.

Taglist. As always please let me know if you want to be added or taken off of the list. It's not a problem at all.

@villainsandheroes @the-beasts-have-arrived

@sacredwrath @porschethemermaid

@monarchthefirst @generic-whumperz

@bloodyandfrightened @freefallingup13

@notpeppermint @cyborg0109

@idontreallyexistyet @painfulplots

@whumpbump @everythingsscary

@skittles-the-whumpee @expressionless-fr

@theforeverdyingperson @legendarydelusiongoatee

@candleshopmenace @whumpanthems

@lavndvrr @ivymyers

@starfields08000 @a-living-canvas

@lumpofsand @watermeezer

@indigoviolet311 @whumpy-mountains

@3-2-whump @risk606

@electrons2006 @paperprinxe

@whumprince @kaz-of-crows

@mis-graves @decaffeinatedtimetraveler94

@sausages-things @sunglasses-in-the-bentley

[a-living-canvas]

A Body of Water

"...I don't remember much about it…yeah, she told me that…so scared…several times…"

Huh…?

"And there's this one time…pestering me all the time…I nearly killed…I don't want to remember…she was being so nice about it…"

What's happening…? Why am I telling this to Whumper…?

"Go on, Whumpee."

Whumper said softly, squeezing Whumpee's shoulder. They couldn't see much. It's all blurry and dark and drowsy. And there's Whumper, there will always be Whumper. 

"She told me it's okay to be scared…she will help…"

I can't control myself…!

"Help you with what?"

Whumper asked. Gentle voice coaxing them slowly to spill more secrets. More dark and hidden desires. "Help…she won't tell anyone but in return I needed…I needed to…"

No! No! Don't tell him!

"It's okay, you are okay. You are safe. You can tell me everything you want."

Whumpee sighed softly. Their mouths betrayed their minds. "I need to…give her anything she wants…"

Whumper hummed, stroking Whumpee's hair gently. His voice was laced with amusement. "And what did she want from you?"

A pause.

"...Me. My body…"

Whumper chuckled, satisfied that he finally got what he wanted. "There, there. Feels so much better now, right?"

"Yeah…" Whumpee couldn't deny it. It did feel like a huge weight on their shoulders were being lifted off.

"Go to sleep, pet. I will be here, waiting for you. Now, shh…go to the dreamland."

Whumpee obeyed, closing their eyes as they drifted off to slumber. All that talking made them feel exhausted. Whumper still watching them, smirking softly. "Ah, Whumpee. Can't wait to hear another secret from you in our next session."

~

@nothing-but-glitter-and-lashes @watermelons-dont-grow-on-trees @risk606 @heyyitsworld @htavin87 @jennyyy007 @electrons2006 @theforeverdyingperson

[0vinosparv]

Please don’t fantasize abuse

If you’ve been around the hero x villain tag long enough, you’ve most likely stumbled across whump prompts. Whump is not my cup of tea, personally I find it hard to read, but if its done RIGHT, then I’ll have no problem in reading it.

But for the love of GOD, don’t think that Whumpee getting their ass beat day and night by Whumper is “hot”.

Not trying to be the fun police, but when I saw somebody tag “kinky” underneath some effed up whump writing prompts about whumpee getting absolutely trashed with metal objects, I lost a piece of my soul.

Some lunatic shoving a knife in your chest is not kinky, being forced into submission isn’t kinky, and getting beaten to death isn’t kinky.

If you have a problem with what I’m debating, please hop off the internet and reconnect with nature, take a shower, get a therapist, do something.

Thank you.