mirrormurmur

[mirrormurmur]

Heat Whump

As promised, Whump ideas that including heat. And as a person who hates heat with a freezing passion, this is gonna hurt to think about…

Hot showers, either to cool down after a nightmare or be forced into by a Whumper

A hot bath, same thing as the shower, may work as comfort or as whumping material

Boiling water, Whumper threatening to boil their limps, or maybe they’ll boil some kind of meat and tell Whumpee it was one of their loved ones, or maybe it was one of their loved ones?!

A fire place, many things can happen here, and fire alone can be terrifying

Put a metal poker in the heat and you’ve got yourself a really ugly weapon

Or maybe force our dearest Whumpee’s hands into the fire, or into the still gleaming ashes

Branding with a hot branding iron is sooo delicious too! So really, burn Whumper’s name into Whumpee’s flesh. Or maybe the company that owns them! Remind the little thing who is in control by steering it into their skin!

Hot days are torture too! Force Whumpee out on a burning out day wearing winter clothing

Or maybe it’s Vampire!Whumpee getting chained to a pole on a hot, sunny day! Whumper just wants to watch the pretty sunrise with his darling Vampire!

Okay! Sorry! I’m still alive and tired! Add more if you like! Heat is so horribly delicious in Whump!

Masterlist

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I love myself a Whumpee who doesn’t realise they are the primary victim.

This probably works best for living weapon Whumpee, but essentially a Whumpee who has seen the Whumper do the most cruel and ruthless shit to others, or asks them to do cruel and ruthless shit to others.

And they are like “Whumper is so cruel to others, I can be so lucky they never hurt me like that.” BUT THEY DO HURT THEM! Just differently.

Sure, they don’t (CW) gut them while they’re still alive. Whumper wouldn’t do anything to kill them, because they want to keep Whumpee.

And yeah, they don’t whip them in front of a large crowd of people, but they beat them in private. Because no one else deserves to see their delicious pain.

And so Whumpee thinks that they have it so much better than all these other victims, when in reality, they are Whumper’s favourite and the primary victim of their ruthlessness.

There are probably better ways to deceive this, but yeah… a Whumpee who doesn’t realise they are the Whumpee.

Masterlist

[mirrormurmur]

Water Whump

I know there are probably a lot of these out there, but I’ll add to it. Or not. Mehh! Have some Whump ideas that include water!

The classical water boarding, maybe one of the worst kinds of torture, definitely a classic

Cold showers, either after brutal torture to make the scars hurt worse, or after a nightmare to wash away the sweat

Ice baths, those are horrible when just dunged into icy water out of the blue. And, again, pair that with scars, and… argh

Of course, the classic dunking the head under water can’t be missed

^ bonus points if Whumper pretended to be kind and wash Whumpee’s hair only to force their head under water

“I’m sorry, I couldn’t resist~ It won’t happen again, ops, I lied!”

Boiling water! As a person who despises heat in any shape, way or form, the mere presence of boiling water has me on edge

And just imagine a sadistic Whumper forcing Whumpee to shower with the heat all the way up

Or threatening to boil their limps while they’re still alive (I may just do a heat list next…)

Now, my absolute favourites, a Whumpee who can’t swim and/or has a fear of water

The mere threat of forcing them to ‘go for a swim’ would leave them so deliciously shaken

And maybe they go for a swim in some shallow water but Whumpee doesn’t know it’s shallow and is constantly on edge asking themselves when they’ll fall into the cold, wet depths

Maybe a mere bath scares them shitless and ‘cleaning day’ is the worst day of the week

Another idea of mine was a Whumper who takes water-hating / -fearing Whumpee on a yacht / boat

Maybe only to scare them, to see Whumpee cling to them because they are more afraid of the water than they are of Whumper

Or maybe Whumper actually throws them overboard and lets them thrash and scream for a bit before allowing them to come back on the yacht / boat

Yeah… as I said… water Whump is one of my favourite… not necessarily in the form of Mers… just… Water Whump…

Masterlist

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Choices

Trigger Warnings: Past trauma, conditioned Whumpee, scared Whumpee, mostly comfort

Masterlist

“Okay, let’s make this… easier,” Caretaker hummed comfortingly, flashing a reassuring smile at the scared figure hiding under the table.

They had been sitting like this for 15 minutes, and no amount of coaxing with a warm bed or bribing with fruit had worked so far. Yes, fruit—because the last time Caretaker tried with a cookie, the poor thing had choked on a bite and had ever since been terrified of the crunchy baked goods.

“You get choices—” Whumpee whimpered immediately, already overwhelmed again. Yeah, right, that’s how they ended up here. They had been so traumatized post-rescue that the mere thought of getting to decide something overwhelmed them.

“Hey! No, it’s okay. Lemme finish. You’ll get small choices for now. Like, instead of asking you what you want to eat, I’ll ask what you’d rather have.”

The confusion that settled over Whumpee’s face would have been adorable if it wasn’t so damn sad. But hey, confusion was better than fear, right? Well, Caretaker wasn’t sure, but it seemed like they were at least willing to hear them out.

“So, apple or orange?” They held the two fruits out, letting Whumpee point at what looked better. Right, the orange. Caretaker smiled softly, getting up from where they’d been sitting on the floor and moving to the kitchen to peel the orange.

With a small bowl of bite-sized orange pieces and a glass of water, they settled back down in front of Whumpee, offering it to them. The figure hesitated but eventually took the snack.

Caretaker sighed, relieved that Whumpee had finally calmed down. But they also knew that getting the old Whumpee back was going to be hard, take an extremely long time, and require a lot of patience. If it was even possible at this point.

Oh well, Caretaker had time.

And Whumpee deserved that time.

[mirrormurmur]

Dressed in a Crimson Deal

Back Home / Chapter 1

╰��➤ Flashback: After making a deal with a demon, Ezra was promised freedom (‘for now’) in exchange for his soul. After 3 years of living happily and freely, the demon shows back up and drags Ezra back to the place he tried so desperately to escape from.

╰┈➤ Trigger Warnings: captivity, mentioned Non-Con drugging, chained to a bed, mentioned Non-Con touch (non-sexual, Whumper changed Whumpee’s clothes while Whumpee was ‘asleep’), mentioned false hope, Whumpee losing everything, psychological Whump, mentioned past financial problems / dependence

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈

It was wonderful while it lasted. Really fucking wonderful. In comparison to what has happened before, of course, living in a small apartment and working in a rundown diner in the middle of nowhere, Nevada was utter bliss. Utter, soul-repairing bliss. But that bliss was over. It was all so undeniably over. All his friends, his customers, his apartment, and that stray cat that always begged for food at the end of his shifts. His job. A legal job that didn’t leave him exhausted, shameful, and shattered.

And the nonexistent debt. That soul-crushing, heartbreaking, and mind shattering debt that hunted him each day and each night and each waking and sleeping second of his existence. The debt that bound him to a place, to its people, to him!

But, Ezra guessed, he didn’t need the debt anymore to have him do whatever he wanted. No, that leash was now his soul. His lovely, definitely repair-needy, and a little dingy soul. That thing that once made him, the one that shaped and changed him. Yeah, no, not anymore. Not after what happened 3 years ago. Not after these three years. And definitely not after that wretched demon dragged him back to this hell.

He hadn’t noticed the weird taste of his water back then. Hell, this is the USA, of course water was gonna taste a bit funny! But when he suddenly felt tired, and a rush of cold heat seeped into his stomach, he noticed the signs. K.O. drops. He remembered them from back then. From Vegas. Many of his customers from back then had done that- or tried it. Back then, he was used to it, expected it even!

But now? Having lived 3 years in peace and quiet, he didn’t have those instincts anymore. At least, not before it was too late. When he did realise, he acted fast. Or, tried too, with how dizzy he was. He had to call 911 and make himself throw up. He could do that! He remembered how to do that! Except it didn’t matter.

He didn’t hear the door open, didn’t notice the shadows or the sudden cool air on his skin. Not immediately, no. When he did, he tried to fight, but the hands that gripped his wrists and right hip—since when were there hands on him? Who was touching him?—only tightened and dragged him towards a waiting car.

And that’s how he ended up here, Ezra guessed. Slowly waking up, blinking away the dizziness from sleep and swallowing the bitter taste from his despair. He yawned drowsily, nuzzling into the soft yet just right-hard pillow, wanting to curl up and fall back asleep. Maybe sleep for real, instead of the drug-induced unconsciousness from before.

He drew his knees up, before he felt a force not giving him any more space. His eyes snapped open immediately, his sleep deprived brain acting on the wonderful idea to yank his foot and on whatever was holding him back. He immediately regretted that, biting his lip when pain shot through his leg, metal digging into the skin. At least, he was fully awake now.

With a broken growl, he shot up, kicking the sheets from his body to see what was going on. And oh, he almost choked on that growl when he saw it. At first, he only saw the shackle binding his ankle to the bedpost. Then, he also saw the fucking bedpost. And the bed. And the room in which the bed stood. And he could have screamed if he wasn’t too tired to do that.

Ezra was shackled to a black bedpost, sitting in red velvet bedsheets, on an expensive and way too big bed, in a way too big room! The room alone was as big as the apartment he lived in just a few… god! How long had it even been?! How long has he been—

Oh, and that wasn’t even the worst. Looking down on himself, he wasn’t wearing his clothes anymore. Not the ones he had worn when he got home… however long it had been ago. No, he was wearing a black, soft silk shirt and dark blue boxers and a fucking shackle!

And he knew exactly who was responsible for all this. And the man knew it too. Because he was sitting right in front of him!

“Good morning, pretty rose,” that fucking bastard hummed, his voice so velvety soft and his demeanour so blissfully careless. Like he hadn’t kidnapped Ezra and dragged him back to this hell on earth. “Did you sleep well? Or did I put too much…?” He didn’t even say it. They both knew what he meant. “Well, regardless—”

“You fucking bastard! Let me go!” Dante just smiled as his prisoner threw a fit, his pretty red lips curving effortlessly, his dangerous red eyes shining shamelessly. The man had no regrets. Why would he?! What consequences would his actions have?! He could seduce or bribe his way out of any prison and damn him to hell? Ha! That’s where the bastard came from! And this was as much an insult as it was meant literally.

“Mhm, why would I? I own you. You are mine, all mine. My pretty little Rose,” the demon grinned wider, and Ezra could have reached for the lamp on the bedside table except there was no lamp on the backside table. Fuck, the little shit had taken precautions. Planned everything. For how long, the boy wondered…?

“This isn’t fair! None of this is fair! We made a deal!” The human choked, trying oh so desperately not to cry as the whole situation became clear. He was fucked! Utterly fucked! A prisoner to a wretched demon, in a wretched Penthouse—at least he assumed it was Dante’s penthouse—and there was truly no way to escape! Not when he was also chained to the bed in a room with almost nothing to grab and use. And a pillow probably wouldn’t be very helpful at lockpicking.

“Ahh, that deal is irrelevant. Has no meaning anymore. And I’m truly unsure whether it ever had meaning,” the words were cruel, and the bastard knew it. They were meant to hit that sore spot of Ezra realising that he had lost everything he had built in the last three years. That any attempt at freedom had been nothing but an illusion. That it all just happened because Dante allowed it.

“We had a deal! I gave you my soul-!”

“I already had your soul! Not literally, but let’s be honest! You were mine back then, and you are mind right now! We just changed the leash. Made it prettier. Better,” the demon didn’t have as much patience as he always claimed to have. The boy knew that any acts of compassion and mercy were nothing but self-serving. But this had nothing to do with mercy. It was a cat playing with a mouse, letting it live and run because it knew it’d catch its dinner again.

“You… you…” Ezra shook his head, blond curls ruffling and snapping all around his head. “Get out… get- get the fuck out! GET OUT!” He screamed, glaring at Dante before pressing his pretty dark green eyes shut tightly. He knew the man did not need to listen to him. Could do anything he wanted to his captive. His possession.

But the man didn’t. He just sighed, sounding like a disappointed father watching his child throw a hissy fit. But he made no move to correct the behaviour. No, he just sighed and then stood up.

“Sleep a bit, pretty rose. We’ll talk about everything tomorrow,” there was no warmth in his voice, no understanding in his eyes, no nothing. They wouldn’t ‘talk’ tomorrow, oh no. The demon would make his favourite human whore regret ever raising his voice at his master. At least, that's what Ezra’s nightmarish intrusive thoughts told him.

“I hate you…” the boy whispered before the door clicked shut and he was alone again. Alone in a big ass room, in a big ass penthouse, in a big ass skyscraper. Above Hell on Earth.

20 stories above the Crimson Delight. Yeah, he didn’t sleep one bit that night…

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈

╰┈➤ Word Count: 1368 words, 7428 characters

╰┈➤ Author Note: This is the first chapter for an OC story of mine. I really hope you like it and that you are interested enough to come back for more. I’ll make a story Masterlist when the first few chapters are out. Thank you for reading <3

╰┈➤ Main Masterlist, Story Masterlist

[mirrormurmur]

OKAY!

A Whumper who can’t physically hurt Whumpee!

Maybe because of some magic seal / sigil, maybe because of some fear, maybe it’s Whumpee turned Whumper, BUT, Whumper who has to either get other people to hurt Whumpee or ‘only’ hurt them through psychological torment!

See this as a writing challenge or just an idea, but argh! This sounds like beauty to my ears!

[mirrormurmur]

Music in Whump

Whumper humming during the torture sessions

Whumpee humming when they are alone to make the pain go away

Whumpee having a favourite song and using that as a bit of comfort during torture

Whumper playing some well known song (from an add, radio, maybe Whumpee’s favourite song, etc.) and Whumpee now associating that song with Whumpee / the torture

^ Caretaker not knowing that and playing the song, completely baffled when Whumpee gets a panic attack

Caretaker singing to Whumpee when they have a panic attack / can’t sleep

Whumpee singing / humming to themselves after the rescue and Caretaker noticing

^ Caretaker buying a CD of this song and gifting it to Whumpee

Yeah, I love all of these…

Masterlist

[mirrormurmur]

Little Mouse in the Dark

Trigger Warnings: captivity, mentioned torture, mentioned sadism, Sadistic Whumper, Intimate Whumper, Psychological abuse, false hope, Threats of Violence, Non-Con touch (not sexual)

Masterlist

“Ohh, little mouse~ Come out, come out wherever you are~”

The monster’s voice slithered through the darkened room, amusement tangled with barely contained rage.

Whumpee knew they shouldn’t have escaped. They should have just stayed in that cell when the door didn’t close properly behind Whumper. But the temptation had been too great, and now they didn’t even know if it had all been a test from the start—or if their captor had truly made such a crucial mistake.

They clasped their hands tighter over their mouth, staying as still as they could, even as fear and frustration coiled around their stomach. Their cell had been left open, the barricaded door blocking off the way to the cell track—or out of it—unguarded but still locked. Maybe it was a trick. A test.

And they had failed.

Oh, how they had failed. The first step out of that dark, foul stone room had been the first mistake, each step toward supposed freedom signing their death sentence. The door out of the cellblock was locked, but a little pin lay hidden under a lonely chair. And the lock was so awfully easy to pick.

“I said come out!”

They choked on a fearful sob that threatened to expose their position. Maybe the monster would leave. Maybe they would think Whumpee had run somewhere else. They just had to be quiet. A quiet little mouse.

After the cellblock door opened, the rest had been just as deceptively easy. Most doors weren’t locked; the hallways were mostly empty. It was so stupid. Stupid, stupid mouse! Thinking they could get out.

When they finally reached the last door, all of their hope crumbled. It was locked. And not just locked—the lock had been molten. The wood was slightly burned, the metal deformed into uselessness.

And that’s when it dawned on them. When it all came together and the realization hit harder than any punch Whumper had ever delivered.

It wasn’t real.

It was all a trick.

A stupid, stupid trick! And they had fallen for it. So stupid.

“You wretched thing! Come out! The game is over!” The cruel thing searching through the compound growled, no longer pretending to be patient. No longer the awfully sweet torturer they had so far pretended to be.

And the little mouse knew, with an icy shiver they couldn’t suppress, that there was no going back. Whether they got out of hiding now or just waited until the monster found them—it didn’t matter. They were already as good as dead.

Then, silence. Unsettling quiet. No footsteps, no breath, no shuffling. Just nothing.

The last sound was a soft click before the room plunged into impenetrable darkness. Sure, the room had been dark before, but this? This was pure horror.

All quiet and dark and horrible.

A small gasp escaped Whumpee, and they immediately hated themselves for it.

Only silence followed, stretching and suffocating—until a terrible, crackling chuckle shattered the air.

“Ohh~ my little mouse~ I found you.”

Cold breath stormed over the back of their neck. Hands clamped around their forearms, wrenching them back. Whumpee cried out, thrashing weakly against their torturer, but it was no use. They knew it was no use.

“N-no! P-please! I’m sorry! I’m so sorr—”

“Oh, I know. But apologies won’t help you.” The monster purred, pulling their arms back painfully. His lips brushed their neck, that devilish grin spreading wide—the same grin he always wore when Whumpee was in a lot of danger. When trouble was about to start.

“Now, how should I punish you, my dear?”

[mirrormurmur]

Not me currently having an obsession with the phrase ‘Blood in the water’, BUT

“Blood in the water” Whump…

Mostly for Captive Whump, but I know how creative some of you can be :)

Literal:

Whumper washing blood from their hands after torture

Whumper washing Whumpees bloodied body (maybe they are unconscious)

^ bonus points if Whumper has to wash Whumpee because they don’t trust them, not even in a bathtub

Whumpee washing their own wounds after a torture session

Whumpee having their first bath since the rescue and suddenly some of their stitches rip

^ bonus for a little panic attack at the sight :)

Caretaker washing their hands after having patched Whumpee up

Caretaker washing their hands after having ‘dealt with’ Whumper (we love aggressive / overprotective Caretaker here…)

Metaphorically:

Defiant Whumpee shows the first cracks and Whumper is hellbent on finally breaking them

Whumpee is sick and Whumper uses this to manipulate them even worse

Whumpee finding some kind of leverage against Whumper and using that shamelessly (maybe some Whumpee turned Whumper)

Whumper being ‘kind’ causing Whumpee to let his guard down, only for Whumper to be much worse the next time

Whumper knowing about Whumpee’s love for Caretaker and manipulating them by saying ‘they’ll never come for you’, ‘they aren’t looking for you’ and so on

Caretaker finally gaining that tiny piece of info they needed to find Whumpee and immediately cracking down on Whumper

And so, so, sooooo many more…

Masterlist

[mirrormurmur]

I love contradictory situations in whump

Afraid and absolutely terrified Whumpee lashing out at Whumper, maybe actually managing to scratch or bite them

Whumper cooing gently and oh so sweetly while kicking Whumpee into the ground

Whumpee so out of due to drugs and whatnots, but they still manage to throw insults at Whumper

Whumper cradling Whumpee, gently carding through their hair with one hand and pressing a knife at their throat with another

My darlings…

Masterlist

[mirrormurmur]

The Mirror Watches

And all we can do is stare back at it…

With that out of the way, hi! I’m Ray, a hobby writer and literature enthusiast specializing in Whump and Angst. I prefer he/him pronouns, am 18 years old, and not a native English speaker, but I’d still say I’m pretty good at it.

I’ve written a lot of drabbles in my free time, but have never really published them, so I thought, why not start now? I also love meeting new people and getting feedback and reviews, so if you have the time and patience, I’d love a conversation or some tips on better writing.

Also, you can contact me any time, either through Tumblr or Discord.

What does the Mirror Whisper?

Well, a lot of things, actually. There’s nothing I’m not willing to try. However, the following things will most definitely be found here:

Sadistic Whumper

Deranged Whumper

Cruel Carewhumper (is that a thing???)

Defiant Whumpee

Broken Whumpee

Drugged Whumpee

Drug / Substance use

Captivity

Gore

Lots of violence & abuse

Psychological Whump

Physical Whump

Sexual Whump

Angst

Dark fantasy

Modern fantasy

Maybe horror

Yes, I… have a lot of interests. That being said, minors and people who are uncomfortable with these themes are advised to leave now, please.

Also, please note that while I do write dubious, unethical, and immoral content, I absolutely do not promote these things! Thank you.

Last but not least, I’d like to say that you are allowed to engage with the things I write and use them as inspiration for your own writing, but if it is more than just a little inspiration, I’d appreciate being credited, please.

I do not give you permission to steal and / or copy my work, but I do encourage you to take inspiration and then create your own work based on it.

Master List

Considering I’m not sure how often I’ll post and how my motivation to do anything will turn out, this may be inconsistent. But, I’ll try to update the Masterlist as regularly as possible.

OC Stories & Stories with Lore

Dressed in a Crimson Deal

Ezra (Whumpee), a sharp-tongued former prostitute with a taste for extravagance, thought he could escape his debts by working at the Crimson Delight. Overwhelmed by unpaid bills and complaints, he made a deal with Dante Vespers (Whumper), the demon owner, selling his soul to get out. The deal seemed to work, but the fine print—“for now”—slipped past him. Three years later, having built a new life, Ezra is confronted by Dante, who’s come to reclaim him. Now, Ezra must choose: return to the Crimson Delight or face the consequences.

Masterlist (soon), Chapter 1,

Whump Stories & Drabbles

Little Mouse in the Dark — Whumpee fell for Whumper’s trap and is now getting hunted down by Whumper

Choices — Post Whumping Whumpee gets overwhelmed by having to make decisions and Caretaker tries to make it easier

Whump Prompts & Ideas

Contradictory Whump Situations, ‘Blood in the Water’ Whump, Music in Whump, Whumper no hurting Whumpee, Water Whump, Heat Whump,