#delusional whumper

[a-living-canvas]

Part 1

Be Mine II

Exhausted.

Whumpee unlocked the door, pushing it open as he entered his apartment. He breathed the familiar scent before plopping down on the couch. Closing his eyes, Whumpee sighed softly.

"Tired?"

A voice whispered beside his ear. Whumpee just nodded, too worn out to notice the figure peering over him. He felt the couch dipped slightly and suddenly, a pair of hands gently massaging his shoulders. 

What a weird dream…

Whumpee thought. He relished the feeling of his taut muscles loosening under the firm yet soft touch, and before he could drift off to sleep, he heard a gentle hum.

"Feeling better?" The voice asked and Whumpee immediately froze. That voice…

His eyelids wide opened as he looked over his shoulder and suddenly his face went pale. Out of all people, why is he here?!

A chuckle filled the room, a stark contrast to the heavy and thick air. Sweat trickled down Whumpee's forehead and he thought his heart might stop at the moment. Clearing his throat, he spoke

"W-wha…w-why…"

Hearing his small and timid voice, Whumper frowned. "Why do you look so surprised? You don't like seeing me?"

Whumpee rubbed the back of his head, chuckling nervously. His mind was telling him to run and save his life. This man is dangerous, he's a doctor. Look at him, keeping his hands in his pocket.

One of them must be holding a syringe right now…

"I-it's not like that…just…um…how did you enter…?"

"Oh!" Whumper chuckled, pulling out his right hand to cover his mouth. Okay, just need to be cautious about his other hand. "Well, I've been watching you for a while now. It's almost cute how you hide your keys under the doormat."

Watching…

"Did you mean, 'stalking'?" Whumpee asked cautiously. Whumper raised an eyebrow, his expression told Whumpee that he thought Whumpee was being silly. 

"I said watching. Not stalking."

But that's literally the same—

"Yeah…right." Whumpee made a little space between him and Whumper. He could feel his gaze on him and it was uncomfortable and painfully awkward. Look somewhere else, will ya?

"You gave me your numbers." Whumper spoke up and Whumpee could feel his heart thumping loudly inside his rib cages. That's true, but it's a fake one…

"...I did." He said, wondering why Whumper was still calm around them. He must have figured it out, right?

"Well, I tried calling it many times but I couldn't reach you." Whumper cupped Whumpee's chin, turning his head to look at him. "Why didn't you tell me that you've changed your number, hm?"

Did he thought—

"Oh! Oh…I…I forgot." Whumpee gave Whumper a sheepish smile, sighing in relief when the latter smiled back at him and released his chin.

They sat in silence for a few seconds before a fond smile formed on Whumper's face. "It makes me happy that you always remember about me."

When?

Whumper chuckled, turning his body in Whumpee's direction. "Even without me here, you still bought an extra toothbrush for me, hm? It's super soft anyway. You are good at choosing."

…Did he mean the extra toothbrush Whumpee accidentally bought the other day?

"Oh! And you made dinner for me too!"

…The leftovers?

"Aww, and the bouquet of flowers!"

The gift Caretaker gave Whumpee for his birthday?

Seriously…

Is he…always this delusional?

Whumper cupped Whumpee's cheeks, a small smile on his face as he studied Whumpee's expression. 

"Be mine, Whumpee."

…

"Huh??"

"Be mine. Stay with me, at my house." Whumper considered for a moment. "We can move your stuff, don't worry. Just…be mine, please?"

…

"Please?"

~

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

[auroragehenna]

No matter how much you squirm you won‘t get out ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Correction

prev

TW/CW: Electrocution, implied mind reading, punishment, threats, a tad of fantasy racism Word count: 1'589

Harmonia was awakened by a sharp tug of the chain connected to her collar. She choked, coughed, and blinked against the sharp light. Fuck she hated that thing. Out of shock, she had opened her eyes way too fast and now they were filled with needles. What was wrong with her?? Was she losing her nature? Her eyes should be used to much more brightness. Please no-

“Good morning, doll.”

Harmonia groaned as she pushed herself up. Only to be pushed down to the floor again by a foot pushing down hard on her back.

“You always make such brute sounds, I can’t have that from my doll, do you understand?”, Electra drawled.

Harmonia pressed her lips together, filling them with oxygen to prevent any sounds from slipping out. She squeezed her eyes shut in pain as the charred feathers touched each other and sent waves of pain into her brain. When she had finally made it into a sitting position she looked up at Electra who was sitting on the edge of the bed, fully clothed already. Always making sure she could tower over her. She would love to get up on her feet but that would only result in Electra forcefully bringing her down again, probably on her knees, painfully. And she didn’t want to cause herself more pain than necessary. “Good morning, Ma’am.”

“Did you have a good sleep?”

“Better than I imagined, sleeping next to a monster. Urgh, I guess my body wanted me to have enough strength for today.”

Electra chuckled. She stood up from the bed, crouched down and unlocked the collar around her angel’s throat. Then she straightened up and gestured for her doll to do the same.

Shakily Harmonia came to her feet and while doing so, the demoness-Electra put a hand under her jaw and lifted it until she straightened up and they were holding eye contact.

“You think I’m a monster, Harmonia?”

Harmonia hesitated for a moment, trying to figure out the best strategy. Her inner alarm was going crazy but she just couldn’t put her finger on why.

“Come on, I give you permission, to be honest, you didn’t have a problem speaking your mind before.”

Okay, doesn’t matter anyway, it’s already too late. “Yes. I think you’re a monster.”

“Well that’s funny.”-Suddenly Electra’s grip turned more forceful, and Harmonia could feel her jaw starting to hurt-“When you didn’t even see the worst of me yet.”-The room seemed to get darker and the temperature seemed to drop with every passing moment. Chills were running down Harmonia’s body-“You think what you experienced so far was monstrous? You poor, naïve, dumb, child. Trust me on this, you don’t want to see me become the monster you say I am. Now ask me to give you breakfast. Ask me nicely or receive your punishment starved.”

Harmonia was still only looking at her, she wished she knew what to do right now, anything, but there was nothing in her mind. As much as she hated it, this time she had to admit she was…outmatched. For now. Yeah. “If-if you would be so gracious, Ma’am, might I have breakfast, please?”

“You may. Otherwise, you simply don’t last long enough.” Electra let go of her angel’s jaw and ordered her to follow as she made her way to the eating room. Once there they ate. Electra noticed that her angel barely managed to keep the food down even with her stomach grumbling through the room. She sighed. “If you puke on the table you’re gonna clean it.”

“Understood, Ma’am.”

“Listen, doll, it won’t do you any good to panic over it now. I am going to punish you for misbehaving either way, try to not make it harder for yourself than it needs to be.”

Harmonia gulps, looks down again, takes a deep breath, looks back up and nods. “I will do my best, Ma’am.”

“Good, because that’s what I expect from my dolls.”

Of course. Of course only the best is good enough. Nothing has changed since I left home. Don’t think of that now. Another thought bawled(?) for her attention. Harmonia suppressed a shiver. She could only hope that Electra wouldn’t decide to permanently injure her. Or take her wings. The angel paled even more at that thought. Suddenly she couldn’t stand living  in her own head anymore and she finished her breakfast as quickly as possible.

“Suddenly so enthusiastic.”, Electra grinned.

Harmonia dared to not answer to that and blessedly Electra let it slide.

After they were both done, and Harmonia felt like the demoness took eons to eat, they both stood up. Electra ordered her angel to follow and they went back to her bedroom. There the demoness stood in the middle of the room, facing Harmonia and the crackling fireplace. “You disappointed me, doll.”

It shouldn’t sting. It really shouldn’t. But it did.

“You can’t expect me to just let that slide, can you, doll? When you decided to betray me.”

Yeah definetly, how could I after you tortured me so nicely.

“Tell me, doll, what was going on inside your head during all that?

“What do you mean? I wanted to get out of here. You’re keeping me against my will.”

“Did you never think about anybody else? Or were you just hurting and decided that make sure you hurt me as well? And everybody else, by putting me in a bad mood?”

Harmonia just stared at the demoness.

“But that as it may, I’m sure you will learn to be less selfish.” Electra stepped closer to Harmonia. “Now tell me you’re sorry for trying to escape. And that you won’t do it again.”

Harmonia pressed her lips together. Then she spoke in a trembling voice. “ I am sorry for trying to escape. I won’t do it again, Ma’am.”

Electra sighed. That was a lie, doll.”

Before Harmonia could react a shock, strong enough to knock out a horse drove through her entire body. Her knees buckled and she collapsed to the ground.

Electra stepped behind her and ran her finger through the angel’s thick wavy (rose) hair. Then she gripped and pulled her doll’s head up by it.

Harmonia grunted in pain as she was pulled upwards by her hair. Now she was on her knees with her head held up.

“So, another time. Tell me you’re sorry for trying to escape. And that you won’t do it again.”

“Harmonia grits her teeth. “I won’t try to escape again, I’m sorry.” Another shock travelled through her body. And Harmonia could only try not to scream. Her body had started twitching and her scalp hurt already from the strain of the pulling.

“And now the honest version, doll?”, Electra demanded.

“G-go t-to h-hell.” Harmonia stuttered.

“There you go, doll.”

After that sentence Harmonia couldn’t hear or feel anything besides the pain inglufing every fibre of her body. She didn’t know for how long Electra let the voltage run through her, she just wanted it to stop. Somebody was screaming, maybe her?

Electra let the lightning run out. Her angel was twitching violently but she didn’t let go of her. “Are you now ready to embrace the truth?”, she asked a bit too cheerful.

Harmonia could barely talk. Only incoherent stutters came out as she tried to answer the demoness.

“Tsk tsk tsk, we can’t have that can we.” She freed one of her hands from her doll’s hair and touched her forehead.

Instantly Harmonia stopped twitching so violently. Now only some involuntary flinches and pain remained.

“Now, shall we try this again? Tell me what I want to hear!”

“I’m sorry that I tried to-to escape! I won’t try it again.”

“Hmmm, why do I not believe you…” -Harmonia tensed up again, closing her eyes in anticipation of the next wave of torture.- “Oh right, because I can see that you’re lying! Hopefully you’ll be wiser next time.”

“No-no-wait!-Argh!”, Harmonia yelled as the next shock waves ran through her.

“I won’t wait, and you can’t beg your way out of this. What were you doing when I caught you?”

Through the flaring pain Harmonia pressed out: “Trying to escape.”

“Are you sorry about your mistake?”

“N-No.”

“What were you trying to do when I caught you?”

“Trying to escape!”

“Are you sorry about your mistake?”

“I’m sorry you caught me!”

“That’s not what I asked, Harmonia! What were you doing when I caught you?”

“I tried to escape!”, Harmonia basically sobbed by now(?).

“Are you sorry for your mistake?”

“I am! I’m sorry I tried to escape!” Harmonia screamed. Tears running over her cheeks.

“Will you do it again?”, Electra pressed mercilessly.

“No. No I won’t escape again!”

Electra waited a few moments before she raised her voice again. “So you tried to escape? And you’re sorry? And you won’t do it again?”

“Yes! Yes, Ma’am, all of that!”

Electra looked down on her angel, withdrew her electricity and let go of her hair.

Harmonia dropped to the ground and could only think of the burning pain her body was drenched in. Somewhere far away she registered that somebody was moving her. Then she was laying on something soft, legs maybe? And somebody, a woman was talking. She tried to focus and understand the words. Finally she could make out a few pieces. none of this…have happened if…just behaved…Wouldn’t need to…instead be nice…like this. Then she could feel how hands stroked through her hair, gently, massaging the scalp. And that was the last thing she felt.

Taglist: @yourlocalgaefae33, @princessofhe11, @greatkittencloud, @bisexuawolfsalt, @imnotamurdereripromise

[dragongodshoard]

AITA for trying to kill my boss?

Hi. Good evening. I need advice and to know if I went too far.

Names changed for anonymity.

So I (102M) work at a bar. I am the only thing that keeps this place running (Minus Carpenter(216F). She built the thing but doesn't do much else.) Waiter (77M) messes up constantly, Bouncer (129F) spends her time bullying Waiter and Boss (276M) does the same, except he also tries to trick him into messing up.

Carpenter and I try to be patient with Waiter, because he isn't the sharpest knife in the armory, but we have our limits and tend to take our anger out on him. I know that it's Boss's fault and as such I try to make it up to Waiter after the fact. He's been understanding, but this couldn't go on. As such, Carpenter and I hatched a plan to depose Boss and Bouncer, and managed to get Waiter on board.

I thought it was going well. Carpenter and I were going to take over the bar and I was going to ask her out when we won. But on the day of the coup, Boss and Bouncer were expecting us. Waiter ratted us out.

Boss told Carpenter to close the bar and sat the four of us down. At this point I knew we were probably screwed. I was informed that Carpenter had been working with Boss the whole time, that this had been a test and I had failed miserably.

Before you ask, no, I was not fired. As mentioned, I'm the only reason customers even come here. My fucking blanket was taken away though. Fml.

Now Bouncer bullies me too. I thought I was done with that when Waiter was hired. I got to kick Waiter's ass though. Rat Bastard. Haven't spoken to Carpenter since then, and she hasn't made an effort to apologize to me.

I don't think I deserve to be treated like this. So Reddit, AITA?

Relevant Comments

Redditor1: Wow. Wtf. Why did you feel the need to do this?

Spirril: Boss was a whiny little bitch who thinks wasting my hard made drinks is a funny prank. Also he's insufferable. Bouncer used to bully me and up until I got ratted out, I thought she was on his side. Turns out she thought she was the boss.

Redditor1: Do you have more context on Carpenter and Waiter?

Spirril: Carpenter is friends with Boss and was testing me and Waiter. They were mad as hell that Waiter ratted me out, Boss was looking forward to having an excuse to kill him.

Redditor1: ESH except maybe waiter. Sounds like he did the smart thing.

Redditor2: ESH Boss and Bouncer for being POS, Carpenter for setting you up and you for mistreating Waiter and trying to commit murder.

Spirril: I don't mistreat Waiter. I'm the only one who bothers to look after him.

Redditor2: ¦but we have our limits and tend to take our anger out on him. ] I don't know, sounds like you do.

Spirril: FU!

Imagine an AITA for Whumppit (Reddit for Whump).

Imagine Caretakers (and Carewhumpers!) posting AITA whenever they fuck up with Whumpee. Like can you imagine a post that says:

"AITA for screaming at my Whumpee for being too clingy?"

What would your Caretakers/Carewhumpers post on AITA?

[oligoweee]

Whumpee curled up against Caretaker's chest, eyes closed, and trying to calm down by listening to Caretaker's quiet, comforting words... Letting Whumpee know this pain isn't forever. Suddenly, Whumper walks into the room moving toward Whumpee... Caretaker continuing their soothing words as they don't notice Whumper...

For a moment, with a chuckle, Whumper watches as Whumpee is curled up in the corner of the room, hugging the wall with bloodied arms while whispering reassuring words to themselves. Whumper looms above, not knowing whether to slowly or quickly snap them back to reality...

[monarchthefirst]

Whump prompts I can’t get enough of:

1. The shifty and embarrassed look in a stoic leader’s eyes as they finally are forced to reveal an injury to their friends, reluctantly allowing themselves to be treated for the first time. The awkwardness as they strip, and/or lay down to be examined. The subtle fighting to maintain some choice or control ( would rather sit up, “I can do that myself thanks”) and so on.

2. The limp warmth of a Whumpee’s sleeping body as they are treated in the middle of the night. The change in their breathing as the covers are gently pulled back. The clumsiness of their movements as they flit in and out of sleep, sudden gasps or flinching as their wounds are tended. The caretaker’s whispers of comfort, hushing them back to sleep.

3. Whumpee lashing out in sudden rage at some petty action of another, before collapsing and breaking down in sobs. Everyone standing around awkwardly in shock, before caretaker goes in to grab whumpee in a crushing embrace, trying to calm their shaking.

4. Stoic whumpee being humiliated by Whumper. Orders like: ‘strip’, ‘face the wall’, ‘kneel’, ‘down on your hands and knees’, etc etc.

5. Slightly delusional whumpee being tied/held down for some potentially lifesaving procedure and quietly begging caretaker to stop, please please stop. Then more loudly, desperately, until they are crying out and fighting in a panic. Caretaker meanwhile is (1)staring at them in stoic silence while their heart is wrung with pity, or (2) they are quietly reassuring them, telling them it’s going to be alright.

Feel free to use as you like.

[littlelambramblings]

The Bed Bugs Did Bite

Tw: spousal loss, child loss(?), grief, unhealthy coping mechanisms, religious talk, codependency. (seriously)

A/N: hello! I might go back and add more to this since I think Theodore’s grief is pretty important to the main story, but alas for now I will leave it.

Masterlist

—-

“Theodore,” a warm whisper breezed past Theodore, as illusive as the wind. Theodore, trying to follow the voice, turned around frantically in the golden wheat field he - for some reason - stood in. Unremorsefully, the sun blazed in all of its glory, making everything further than five feet melt away in light, and yet Theodore still tried to scout out the location of the whisper.

“Theodore…” the voice came again, closer this time. Desperately, Theodore ran in the direction it sounded like it came from, sweat dripping down his back, throat tight with - with hope? What was he hoping for? 

Those thoughts were completely halted when a face came into view. It was a woman, tall and poised with olive skin, lips delicately painted in an all too familiar peach-pink and quirked up. Her wild hair framed her jaw as she looked down into the bundle of white she cradled to her chest.

Oh.

He knew this woman, alright. 

“Mary,” he breathed reverently as if She were his God. And, in all honesty, She was. The cruel sun burned hot behind Her creating a false halo for Her head that Theodore would eagerly bow down before like a dog to its master. “My Mary.” 

He staggered forward, eyes wide with emotion he couldn’t bare to describe.

A little giggle coming from below paused Theodore in his pursuit. Mary lifted Her hands, guiding the white fabric away, revealing the face of a smiling child and Theodore could practically feel his heart in his throat. Beating. Bringing him back to life.

Mary pressed their child into Theodore’s shaky hands, pulling back and seeing Theodore’s wobbly smile as he looked between their child and Her. She smiled, all too carefree.

Suddenly, Theodore's eyes snapped down. A red curséd spot marred the crotch of Mary’s pristine dress. Theodore felt his heart pound in his throat once more, now, for a completely different reason. It couldn't be... He pleaded.

Confused, Mary paused, bringing a now pale hand to Her stomach, clutching it. A pained sound left those lips he cherished.

With growing panic, Theodore watched as the crimson spread across Mary’s dress, the sound of screaming ringing through the fields. 

“MARY!” Theodore cried, despair drowning him.

He looked down at the bundle in his hands, only to see dust blow away with one gust of wind despite his desperate hold.

Theodore jolted upwards, unable to breathe. He wrangled his hands around his throat, trying to suppress the scream clawing its way up his throat, and squeezed. Squeezed until he felt weak, then relished the sting around his released throat.

Hot tears poured shamelessly down his face and Theodore dropped back onto his too-big-for-one bed. Instinctively, he twisted the golden band around his ring finger, watching it sparkle in the moonlight with beady eyes.

Dazed, Theodore fumbled out of bed to his feet, stalking down the halls in the dark, searching, searching, searching. Where was she? His heart begged. Where was their child? His heart longed, only to fins himself frozen before the door of Jace's room, hand hovering over the handle. He steeled his heart and turned the knob.

Shakily, Theodore cracked the door open, heart tight as though preparing for the worst, already expecting to see Jace crumble to dust before his eyes, just like his child did in his dream.

He pushed the door open.

Theodore’s heart lightened, a trembling smile breaking out across his face.

Jace was here. Fast asleep. Safe. He crept towards his bed, crawling onto it before slumping lifeless beside Jace. He wrapped his arms around Jace, tucking his head under Jace’s chin, feeling blood pump under skin ritualistically. 

He’s alive, he’s alive, he’s alive. 

Theodore’s face - still wet with tears - twisted in broken relief. 

Pressing a kiss to Jace’s throat, Theodore rasped out, eyes feral and red, “Forgive me, Mary."

He hiccuped, “I won't fail this time.”

—-

Taglist: @whatwasmyprevioususername @galactic-worm

[watsonbee]

CW: fem whumpee/ carewhumper, very bad caretaker turned carewhumper, non-descriptive mouth whump, major victim blaming, implied past abuse, implied past alcohol abuse, mentioned past arguments, restraints, gag, delusional carewhumper, snake metaphors, slight religious imagery NOT to be mistaken as heteroism or whatever

〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️

Whumpee shook in the chair, head involuntarily held in place by it’s restraints and drool threatening to spill from the corners of the open mouth gag.

Wrist twisted inconsolably in the leather straps of the chair, wood splinting jagged against her skin, digging into the fat of her legs and arms, causing tiny droplets of blood to run freely, not made any better by her struggles but she just didn't know when to stop did she.

Her eyes stuck to the figure in the corner of the room, busy picking up and examining different objects from the work bench. She’d turn them in the overhead light questionably before setting it down in favor of another one. Humming to herself as she ran her fingers across the metal; Whumpee didn't even know she had a work bench until now.

A whimper dislodged itself from her throat at a particularly painful looking one. Dull eyes shot up, instantly finding her’s in the darkness. Caretaker gave a gentle smile from below big square glasses, they slid down her hooked nose slightly at the motion, a soft huff leaving her nose, “I'll be there in a second,” her calm voice spoke.

Whumpee used to love watching her work. The creased eyebrows, pursed lip, twitching fingers debating a decision, all of it used to be fascinating to her—comforting even. But now, watching the way the yellowed light hit her brown skin and split into shadows at the wrinkles of her smile, she looked absolutely terrifying.

Her friend was long gone; replaced by whatever monster stood in it’s place.

“I just wish you would've been quiet when I told you to,” Caretaker started, still standing in thought, “Then none of this would have had to happen.” She sighed, finally settling on a couple tools collected in her hand before walking over to Whumpee, who shrunk deeper into the suffocating chair.

She watched as Caretaker took a seat in front of her, laying the tools carefully on an awaiting cart: a knife, plier wrench, and a needle and thread.

More tears gushed down whumpee’s cheeks at the sight of it, at what it ment for her, they gathered in the rolls of her neck as she begged incoherently through the gag. Caretaker just looked at her like she was watching memories, deaf to her sobs,

“You just used to be so fun, you know? You used to go places, exist outside your room, smile more. Now every time I try to get you out of the house you have a full blown panic attack, screaming at me to leave you alone like it's my fault. You don't even appreciate anything I do for you!”

She sighed in frustration before resting her head on Whumpee’s knees, caressing her in some sort of twisted affection, “I just want my friend back. That's it.”

Whumpee wanted to shove her away, to kick and scream that she didn't want this woman anywhere near her, but the ankle restraints made fast work of that.

“And now that I’m seeing things for myself, I'm starting to think that….maybe you should've just listened to Whumper…”

The words froze her deathly still. For a moment Whumpee wasn't even sure if she'd heard her right, her mind needing time to process something that could never have left her friend’s lips. She looked down at her, brows furrowed in betrayal.

“Come on, don't look at me like that, you know what I mean!” Caretaker shouted, shooting up in defense, “I'm not saying what he did was okay or anything! I'm not a monster! It's just that, you know, everything happens for a reason and I think maybe there's something you could've learned from it! Maybe if you had been more complaint things would've gone differently.”

Whumpee stilled where she sat, her heartbeat choked on the words spilled from the other's mouth. She couldn't bother to breathe as her doubts were repeated; a mirror of booze and sleepless nights stared back at her through a rat’s eyes, pain and unwanted touch, shrilled screams and sharp commands, and more than anything a knife to the mistaken trust between them suffocated the room like a viper.

Venom as gentle as a man’s kiss as it dripped off her tongue.

“He just wanted you to be quieter,” she shrugged off.

Coming back was a mistake. Asking for help—for solace—for fucking empathy was a mistake. She didn't know this person. She should've accepted that she had no one left after the first broken glass.

“But don't worry,” Caretaker said, patting Whumpee’s thigh with a smile, “I'll fix it, then we can get back to how things used to be. No more arguments. No more begging. Just like it used to be.”

Grabbing the pliers, she stood and held Whumpee’s head still with her other hand. Whumpee screamed this time, trying foolishly to kick out again in a attempt to keep her away. None of her efforts kept the wrench from coming closer.

Caretaker’s eyes drilled into Whumpee’s skull, “This is going to hurt, Whumpee. A lot. But don't worry, you’ll thank me when we're done.” the tool inch its jaws into whumpee’s mouth, broad and unyielding, before caretaker stopped abruptly.

A laugh burst from her too wide smile, “Well, figuratively speaking, anyway.”

[manipulative-puppeteer]

Tropes part 3

Obsessive delusional Whumper

TW: pet whump, dehumanization, objectification, possessive whumper, forced family, captive whump, mentions of torture

I mainly see this type of Whumper in three scenarios if you have more send me an ask and ill give my thoughts/develop them, the three scenarios are:

Kept as a pet/decoration

Whumper doesn’t see Whumpee’s humanity and treats them as less than human

They aren’t allowed on furniture, they are  punished for speaking or even just moving, they don't have clothes or a room of their own, sleeping in a dog bed or in case of decoration they are dressed in elaborate accessories every day

And all that with Whumper firmly believing that Whumpee is in fact treated as they should be

Of course, it comes with Whumper cherishing, praising and rewarding Whumpee when they behave well, they love seeing Whumpee accepting their rightful place

I see the Whumpee trying to explain that they are not on animal/object, maybe even appealing to Whumper’s love for them and saying that if they love them, they should treat them like a human, but all it accomplishes is a punishment for acting out

Forcefully brought into family (one of my favorite tropes ever)

I’s either a forced marriage, adoption or just treating them as siblings or undefined family member, all that matters is that they are supposed to ‘love’ and ‘help’ each other

Whumper does so by locking the Whumpee up and taking their autonomy, of course with a pretense of doing so out of concern for the other

Disguising binds as presents and maybe even decorating them with fun colors or stickers to make it more domestic

Giving the Whumpee their own room, maybe decorating it based on the scarily large knowledge of the captive or making it too childish despite the Whumpee being older

Again, Whumper rewarding the Whumpee when they act pretending to really be said family member

Whumper ignoring the Whumpee if they don't act like they want them to, that encompasses not giving them food, locking them up, holding basic necessities over their head and maybe turning the light off leaving them in isolation till they promise to behave and cry for the Whumper’s presence

Loved captive

The Whumper keeps the Whumpee like a prisoner, but it’s out of love <3

They don’t pretend it’s domestic, the Whumpee is straight up a captive, they are punished and tortured like any other, but it’s not to get anything out of them or anything like that

It’s because the Whumper think it will make the Whumpee love them back

Or that keeping the Whumpee docile and hurt will be equal to keeping them safe

Maybe it’s because the Whumpee kept sacrificing and hurting themselves

And maybe it will work or maybe the Whumpee will just act like it works, hoping to escape by lowering the Whumper’s guard, promising to stay with their captor forever and never leave them for getting some restrictions lifted

If the Whumpee escapes, the Whumper will not give up, they will try everything to get them back and follow them, making the Whumpee too panicked to feel safe

If the Whumpee is caught the restraint’s will be tougher and no matter what they promise, the restrictions will never be lifted

They broke the promise once, they won’t get a chance to ever do it again

[whumperofworlds]

Hihi! I don't really have a question! But I just love how welcoming you are! It means a lot and it makes me smile seeing people lift each other up! :D

Also!! I have a whumpy idea that's been rolling around my brain for a story I'm writing! Thinking about a doctor whumper who runs a shady medical facility but a certain oblivious journalist whumpee gets too nosy for their own good. Now they've gotten further in and whumper confuses them for a patient because why else would someone be in the restricted area. Clearly, whumpee's delusional. Dressing like the people outside and pretending they're anything more than a test subject.

Just a thought! I hope you have a great day!!! :3

Aw, of course ❤️ The whump community is special to me and any newcomers that join it, I wanna welcome them ❤️

OOOOOOOH that's very delicious! Especially with Whumpee crying out that they're NOT a patient, even with solid hard proof that they're a non patient but alas. Whumper takes them back.

[a-living-canvas]

Moon Milk and Paper Stars

Whumper was sipping on his coffee, enjoying the calm evening in a cafe when a chair across from him was being pulled out and someone sat on it. It's Whumpee. Again. This time with a bouquet of flowers that eventually would be thrown away by Whumper. Just like the usual.

But Whumpee didn't seem to catch on that yet, that Whumper wasn't interested in them.

They were a nuisance to him. Kept coming back with chocolates, letters, and gifts. Whumper put his cup on the table, looking at Whumpee while letting out an exasperated sigh. Hoping that would be enough to shoo away the creature in front of him.

But it wasn't, and Whumper regretted not rolling his eyes at Whumpee while he still had the chance. 

"I have something to give you." Whumpee said giddily, eyes beaming with excitement. Whumper sighed again.

"Yeah, I can see that. "

Whumpee held out the bouquet on the air, fingers slightly touched with Whumper's as he took the flowers from them.

Heliotrope.

Oh, how sweet. Whumper chuckled in disbelief at whumpee's level of delusional. Did they really think they could be with him? 

"Do you like it?" Whumpee asked with a smile. They were hoping their tender gift could cheer Whumper up in some kind of way. Seeing him smile was enough for them.

"Oh, of course I like it. It's pretty and has deep meanings about it. Although I must ask, what's with the gifts and flowers? Could you perhaps wish for us to be more than just strangers?" 

Whumper asked, silently observing Whumpee's facial expression. They looked down on their lap, cheeks tinted red in embarrassment. "I…I do have to admit, I really hope we could be more than just strangers…if you don't mind…"

Whumper nodded in understanding. "Sure, I wouldn't mind being your friend if that's what you want."

Whumpee hesitated. They lifted their head to look at Whumper, "No…not just friends. I mean, like, maybe we could be…lovers?"

Whumper bursted out laughing at that. He covered his mouth with his hand as he laughed, eyes tearing up in amusement. Lovers? That's absurd. Totally absurd. What were they thinking when they said that?

"Oh no no no, you don't want to be my lover. " Whumper stated, still smiling and chuckling. Whumpee smiled reassuringly, leaning slightly on the table.

"I mean it…! I want to be your lover. You are a wonderful and kind person."

Oh no, now they looked at Whumper like he needed validation and encouragement to be more confident with himself. Whumper smirked, playing along as he sipped on his coffee.

 

"Is that so? Or is that just how you want to see me? I'm not easy to handle, you know?"

"I'm sure I can handle you just fine…! You just need to give me a chance to prove that…"

Whumper raised an eyebrow. "You sure, huh?" He sipped on his coffee again, finishing the last bit of liquid as he pondered in his head. "I could give you a chance if you want it…"

He narrowed his eyes at Whumpee. "But just that, don't expect more from me."

Whumpee nodded. "I promise."

~

"Give me your bag." Whumper ordered as they stood on the doorway at Whumper's house. Whumpee slightly taken aback in confusion but then they handed the bag to Whumper and entered the residence. 

The house was kept simple, not many decorations but still had its spark. Whumper had many dogs, all gathered in one room as they were eating. Meat specifically. Something felt off about it but Whumpee just brushed it away.

They walked straight to the bedroom. Whumpee entered hesitantly, not sure what to do even though they could already feel excitement swelling inside them. Whumper took off his jacket before running his fingers through his hair.

"Now, let's see if you are capable of pleasing me." Whumper turned around and faced Whumpee, eyes darken with sinister intent. 

"Get on your knees."

Whumpee blinked their eyes a few times. "...what?" 

"Don't make me say it again."

Whumper ordered. His tone of voice changed slightly. More dominant, more commanding. Whumpee swallowed hard, they weakened their knees and fell to the ground. They could feel their heart beating so fast when Whumper walked towards them, tipping their chin up slowly until their eyes looked directly on the ceiling before it got replaced with Whumper's eyes.

Whumpee had a hard time breathing in that position. They could feel a few strands of their hair being pushed to the back of their ears with gentle fingers. Whumper closed his eyes, taking a deep breath as he exhaled softly.

"Open your mouth." 

Whumpee obeyed. They opened their mouth, feeling the pad of Whumper's thumbs brushed across the crown of their bottom teeth. It's so soothing, almost intimate when Whumper suddenly pushed his thumbs against Whumpee's teeth. 

Whumpee's eyes widened in shock. Pain registered in their mind as they grabbed Whumper's wrists almost instantly, trying to stop the pain. But Whumper didn't budge at all from his position. He kept pressing Whumpee's teeth, blood dripping down from their mouth to the floor. 

Whumpee's groans and whimpers were completely ignored by Whumper. He stopped putting the pressure when Whumpee's incisors fell out to the ground. Whumpee breathing heavily, looking up at Whumper in fear. They wanted to say something, to ask why, but they were just met with his cold and creepy smile.

"Having fun, Whumpee? Are you really sure you can handle me? Can you handle anything that is much worse than this?" 

Whumpee went speechless. Tears streaming down their face. They just wanted to be there for Whumper, to care and love him. Not…not whatever that's happening right now. 

"Do you know what I want, Whumpee?" Whumper asked. He walked towards Whumpee again and grabbed a fistful of their hair, leaning down to their height. He looked at Whumpee with narrowing eyes and spoke with his commanding voice.

"I don't want you to view me as a potential romantic partner. No, I don't want that. I want you to worship me with every single part of your being. Your body belongs to me. I own you."

Whumpee whimpered softly. Their fingers trembling like mad. They realised it now, how wrong they were to try to fix someone like Whumper. 

"Oh, darling, don't leave me hanging like this, hm?" Whumper chuckled softly as he released Whumpee's hair before moving to grab their chin instead. Whumpee stammered as they made eye contact with Whumper.

"I-I truly love you. I just want to help you…w-why can't you just let me…?"

Whumper's eyes softened. He stroked Whumpee's hair gently. "Oh, Whumpee…it's not your fault if a weak and pathetic creature like you would be attracted to a predator like me. That's just how it should be."

"But that's also why you need to know your place, to embrace your nature and submit to me…rather than defying the law…" Whumper stood up again, looking down at Whumpee.

"Now be a good slave and kiss my feet."

~

Part 2

[suspensefulpen]

No Rescue

TW: Restraints, Defiant Whumpee, Noncon Touching, Creepy/Intimate Whumper

Whumper laughed, making Team Leader raise his head. With his arms already raised above his head by a chain hanging from the ceiling while being forced to stand on his tiptoes, his vision briefly clouded. 

“I guess your little team doesn’t care about you after all.” Whumper’s wicked grin widened. “They haven’t attempted to come to your rescue yet.” 

Team Leader grunted, almost dropping his head. “I told them not to…” 

“Did you really?” Whumper stepped up to him. “Or are you saying that to make yourself feel better?” 

Team Leader glared at him, his vision clouding again. “So did you kidnap me to taunt me to death or are you actually going to torture me?” 

“Oh are you asking for it? Because I will provide.” The grin turned into a smirk as Whumper stepped ever closer, his hand coming up to his captive’s chin. “Just ask and you shall receive, you don’t have to worry about that part.” 

“Then do it already.” 

Whumper stepped away, turning his back. “Oh I am. I just haven’t decided what I’m going to do first.” 

“Are you saying that to make yourself feel better?” 

He instantly whipped back around, striking Team Leader’s cheek. For a brief moment, Team Leader wasn’t able to register the action, his dizziness growing stronger. “Don’t you mock me Leader! I don’t need to make myself feel better and justified by spouting out delusional nonsense! Unlike you who needs it for every little thing you do.” 

With a scoff, Whumper left the room in a furious march.

[dusknoir-whump]

Low-key tempted to write whump centered on my own experiences of trafficking just with terms "Whumper, Whumpee, False Caretaker" to avoid the actual trafficking terms and also because it may help me work through some stuff.

Just the buzzing in the back of my brain from alters who remember things is starting up again. Because of just some dumb simple words... "Wake up" and "Go to sleep" may have been slightly different but we were told that we were dreaming every time we were abused. We had horrific night terror and nightmares during all of it too so anything related to dreaming became a horror to us for so long. Were thankfully better now.

Of course if I do whump stuff based around trafficking I'll do as many trigger warnings as necessary and of course none of my stuff is meant to be romanticization or glorification unless perhaps it's written from the POV of a delusional victim who's gaslighting themselves and it's clear to the reader they're not right in the head. That could be fun.

[littlelambramblings]

To My Dearest Mary

AN: Hollaaa, sorry for such a short update after such a long time! May is a busy month for my family since we have a lot of birthdays. Anyways, hope you guys enjoy! Continuation of this part, here.

Masterlist

TW: manipulation, mentioned whipping, mentioned domestic violence, mentioned violence against women, religious talk, man trapped in a basement, you know the usual

---

Theodore winced as he finished applying the last bandage on his forearm. He had hoped that Jace would come around in the last couple of days, but instead Jace decided that the next best course of action would be to hole himself up in the basement and throw things at Theodore whenever he entered. 

For the most part, Theodore was able to avoid being struck and if he couldn’t dodge out of the way,  he wasn’t hurt that much since all Jace could find was stuffed toys and blankets. 

At least, that was until Jace stumbled upon some old glass jars Theodore had completely forgotten about and started chucking them at Theodore instead. One of them managed to nick his forearm when he moved to block. 

Theodore would have been impressed with Jace’s resourcefulness if he wasn’t more worried about how long Jace had gone without eating. 

He looked at his phone, wondering if he should call Eleanor. Then shook the thought out. 

No, Jace was his responsibility. He needed to show his authority. What kind of dad would he be if he couldn’t handle this? Eleanor would probably just laugh at him, anyways…

That's right! He could do this! With high hopes, Theodore stood before the basement door, ready to brave the challenges of parenthood. 

“Hello?” came the staticy voice of Eleanor. 

Theodore sat against the door, panting as held a hand against his bleeding forehead,  “Eleanor?” “Oh, Theo! What’s up?”

“I- uh - need some help,” he rasped out, feeling his cheeks flush with embarrassment. He was not expecting Jace to have thrown the jar at his head so hard that it shattered on impact. Really, the kid's got an arm on him.

In hindsight, it was pretty stupid to just go into the basement with no protection, but worry had taken over Theodore in the moment. And really, could you blame him? It was a parent’s nightmare to see their child starving themself!

“Just one sec.” Eleanor responded and Theodore could hear the sound of her shuffling off something soft - probably a couch - and the sound of a voice complaining. After the sound of a door, Eleanor continued, “What’s wrong?” “Jace has holed himself up in the basement and I don’t know what to do. He’s found some glass jars down there and has started throwing them at me whenever I try to get him.”

A pregnant pause rang from the other side of the phone, “Theo…Why don’t you just wait him out? I mean he can’t stay down there forever, eventually he’ll give in.”

“But I don’t want to hurt him-!” Theodore began only to be cut off.

“Theodore, you need to think long-term. In the beginning, it’s always tough, but after some hard work, things will ease. Remember what our Father has taught us. Outsiders don’t realize what’s best for them. It’s our job to help them.”

Theodore’s heart started pounding. Oh, he remembered their Father’s lessons. How could he forget? Those nights of hearing his Mother cry. The swift crack of a whip as it cut through skin and flesh. The laughter of his Father as his Mother begged for death…

How his Father demanded he do the same to Mary. 

The hair on his arms stuck up as he started feeling nauseous, “Eleanor, I want to raise him how Mary would have wanted.” 

Eleanor sighed, “Theo, you know I love you, right? I just want what’s best for you. I’m worried how you’ll handle another loss.” Thedore’s blood ran cold as Eleanor continued. “If you don’t discipline Jace correctly, that could make him unpredictable. And something unpredictable is much worse than a couple days of hunger. If he - God forbid - runs away, what if he gets run over by a car, or mugged, or worse? Are you willing to take that risk?”

Theodore held his breath at the implications, “But Mary-!’

“Mary would want her son safe. With you, her loving husband,” Eleanor hissed. She paused, recollecting herself, “Look, Theo. No one ever said that this was easy. Love isn’t easy. The grief you feel for Mary? That’s all the unexpressed love you have for her. Don’t let yourself feel that for Jasper too.”

Eleanor proposed quietly, “Just think about it? Okay?” And with that she ended the call. 

Theodore let out a sigh of defeat, slumping further into himself as if the weight of the world rested upon his shoulders. Somehow he felt worse than before. With a groan, he picked himself off the floor.

He clenched his fists and finally wiped the blood off his face, starting to pick out the glass pieces in his hair.

Okay, he decided, he could do this.

For Mary, at least.

Taglist: @whatwasmyprevioususername

[whumppuppeteer]

Maylancholy day 7: feverish and delusional

Tag: @may-lancholy

This fic contains: sick whumpee whumpee being held down, forced drugging,

Hands held them tightly as Whumpee struggled against their hold. They couldn't do this again. Whumpee couldn't handle it again.

Whumper looked down on them with disdain.

"Keep them still."

A strange substance was brought to their mouth. Whumpee widened their eyes in horror and thrashed harder, even breaking free for a moment. But their victory was short lived, and they were held down again as the substance was forced past their lips and into their mouth. They immediately tried to spit it out.

"Shh, don't struggle, you'll only make it worse for yourself."

Whumper kept a hand pressed to their mouth, forcing them to either swallow or stop breathing. Unable to hold their breath for long, the vile liquid trickled down their throat and settled in their stomach. Satisfied, Whumper removed their palm.

"Happy now?!" Whumpee spat. Whumper just sighed.

"I'll see if you're better tomorrow."

-

Caretaker leaned against the doorway and tried to keep their tears at a managable level. One of the nurses came and laid a hand on their shoulder.

"Do you think...they'll recognize me next time?"

The doctor patted them on the shoulder.

"They're in good hands Caretaker, but only time will tell. "

Caretaker fell to the ground and curled up in a ball. They didn't know how else to help Whumpee, but the look in their eyes as they took the medicine would haunt them for years to come.

[overclockedroulette]

Hello tumblr dot com. Did I hear out-of-context VtM whump? Did I hear delusional whumper pov? Did I hear Finally Posting Fic Again After Three Years? yeah you're right i didn't hear any of that- WOAHH WHAT'S THAT UNDER THE CUT

(if you are in this campaign. i am looking at you directly em. i am trusting you not to look but Do Not Look or do i'm not your boss. but nonetheless foip foip foip unbelievable foip.)

anyway. who doesn't love evil deluded vampire twinks?

i call this one 'don't play with your food asshole'

godbless he's so cute

He’s started imagining things.

Not fantasising - that makes it sound a little too much like a, um, vulgar sort of imagining, and though in his time as a purely sexualised existence (the queer thing, no the vampire thing - though he finds it difficult to imagine that nobody has that particular fetish) he has become, he thinks, anything but a prude, his good Christian upbringing can’t quite reconcile active fantasising just yet - just… imagining. Picturing. Seeing, objectively.

Yes, he knows he uses that sort of thing as a front for luring prey to his apartment - but that’s just feeding. He isn’t deriving any fetishistic pleasure from it, no more than they are; it’s just like eating a meal. If you made out with the meal a bit first, to make it taste better.

Hm. There is, perhaps, a better analogy.

Either way, the manner in which he fantasises is neither fetishistic nor particularly Christian, so he’s losing on both fronts; when cleaning glasses or mixing drinks his eyes are able to wander, and when he has time (which is, admittedly, rarely), they are able to linger on the forms of his more… well-off patrons. Those who laugh in a particularly carefree manner, who wax fondly of lovers and family a little too loud, who walk with enough confidence to draw his eye - the gait of a person who has never suffered and doesn’t care to. The way that they walk, in particular, enchants him: upright and confident, or bouncing, or a half-skip, or a stride - utterly unlike that imperfect gait he sees in glitches and flickers in passing windows or in his shadow, utterly ignorant of the other side.

It’s that focus that helps him to see them in a different manner. It’s that magnetism that lets him picture their bodies feeble and crawling, soaked through with desperation, hauling their limp and bleeding selves across his floor and sobbing, begging with their eyes - the pain of running so great that it outweighs the need to survive like nothing ever outweighed his, and the fantasy reminds him that in everything he is, in spite of what has been done to him, he is better than them, and it’s a feeling he could get high on. And it’s that kind of thought that lets him get through a shift without launching himself across the bar and strangling the first person to mention a friend or a relative with any hint of fondness - or display a hint of an Irish accent; one or the other (he doesn’t hate the Irish, he doesn’t, but the accent is both distinctive and familiar, and it’s not like he has anything against the accent itself but he thinks he is well within his rights to find it uncomfortable, well within his rights, even if it feels a little reductive, but who cares? It’s not some moralising thing, just a slight discomfort, he doesn’t actually even dislike the accent; it’s fine; it’s a fine accent; just uncomfortable). Only once or twice has he actually gone through with the urge to mutilate, and though he promptly threw up and swore it off the first time, the inevitable second was unimaginably freeing. It took him at least a few extra minutes before the urge to run to the bathroom and puke blood into his sink overtook him entirely - so, clearly, he’s getting there.

(Is ‘there’ somewhere he particularly wants to get, though? He perishes the thought. At least it’s something he’s allowed to want.)

There’s something about the feeling of holding another person’s life in his hands that, were it not for the fact that it was his life he held so often, would almost certainly have him sympathising with Father Aiden. The feeling of slipping his hands down a person’s legs, of holding them taut with his teeth deep in their thigh, of the precision with which a hidden and carefully-sharpened knife glides through muscle and feeling tendon retreat like a snapped bungee cord, beneath skin and between his fingers. The feeling of clumsily pressing his thumb into the wound and scraping bone. That knowing feeling, when he looks into their eyes from below and knows it’s too much even to scream, and the sound that comes out instead when without glancing down, he cuts the second. That one’s clumsier - partially because he can’t see and partially because his hands are now shaking: takes a little sawing to sever completely, and makes him feel a little silly under the high. It’s his first time, he explains, like his audience is someone who can care, so he’s bound to be a little clumsy. He hopes they can forgive him, he laughs (like a nervous schoolboy), but knows they won’t. He asks them to stand. They refuse. He looks them in the eye and tells them to stand. He’s only once taken ecstasy, but he doesn’t think he’ll have to ever again. And that’s where he gets the idea to tell them to run, and realises when their bloodied hand falls limp against the pressed-in handle that he forgot to lock the door. Lucky break, then, that he got to them so quickly. He doesn’t make that mistake again, though he does lean over and expel that particular meal against his will, faint and shaking, when he sees their eyes roll back.

He finishes shaking that margarita, strains it out and salts the rim. The customer shyly asks for the lime on the side, and he apologises profusely, obliges, and even gives her an extra on the opposite side. It matches the bunny ears, he mentions offhand, noticing the visible hen-do attire; he laughs, she laughs, and he knows they’re tipping good tonight, though that wasn’t his initial thought. It really does look a bit like bunny ears. He could do something with that, next Easter - maybe with strawberry slices; something with chocolate liqueur?

He takes another order. The second time was clumsier still - well run dry of beginner’s luck, perhaps (though he did lock the door, this time!), or maybe just the consequences of thinking a little too hard; either way, his hand slips, and the victim kicks out against the pain even through the haze of the kiss - the blade scars his palm, and he is left facing an angry, fading man. What’s worse is that the man is bigger than him, that there are weapons in the room and he knows because he’s wielding one; he is very, very aware of how easily he can be disarmed.

He pressed his palm into his prey’s mouth and forced them down, he remembers. He held it there as if to gag him, and the way the look in his eyes shifted as the blood ran from his own palm and down its throat is a sight he has to press out of the forefront of his mind as long as he’s in public. He pours another round of shots. His glasses were askew, anyway - he couldn’t see quite right, not the full picture, and he doesn’t doubt that’s for the best.

Still pressing one hand to the kine’s lips, he used the other to adjust his glasses and press a single finger to his own.

Shh.

It stares up at him in wonder as he peels his hand away, which contorts into agony, not anger, when he slashes his heels as quickly as he can. He rings in an order. The sensation of blood-soaked hands running through well-kept curls presents itself to him, and he lets himself breathe it in before serving the next customer.

He didn’t finish drinking from that one - just put a few more clumsy wounds in it and let it bleed out naturally (maybe that’s why he threw up, but at the very least, it was slightly less to expel). He cringes thinking about what Father Aiden must have thought, cleaning up the body - though, he supposes that ‘looking like an amateur’ is about par for the course, when it comes to… being somewhat of an amateur, so he’s sure that he can’t judge too harshly. He’ll just remind him of the somewhat heavy-handed number of car accidents staged in his youth, if he asks; he isn’t the only kindred here allowed to be a little excessive.

He cleans a glass and assures a bejewelled patron that he’ll be with them in just a moment. He heaps some praise on their jewellery and then on their eyes, with a natural humility he could only dream of genuinely possessing. Two is a messy number, after all - and he’s certain he can do it better this time.