#domestic whump

[abhainnwhump]

Been obsessing over the idea of a Whumper who wants to live out a stereotypical family fantasy so they kidnap a few Whumpees to do it.

One Whumpee is their spouse. Whumpee is beautiful and caught Whumper's eye. They had a promising future before, but now they're stuck in this housewife role and have to suck up to their captor. They feel worse because they already have someone they love.

Another Whumpee is the kid. Whumper chose this one because of their small size and/or cute features. They have a cute bedroom, childish clothes, and limited access to information so they don't get too smart. They're also drugged most of the time so enjoy naps.

The last Whumpee is the pet. This one gets treated the worst. They have to act like a dog 24/7 and play fetch with the kid. Bonus points if this Whumpee was super cocky before and are now treated like an animal.

Whumper is the head of the household and makes sure everyone else stays in line. They want their family to be perfect, but they aren't against violence. They'll torture the Whumpees until "they love them again".

The Whumpees all befriend each other and plan to escape. They have to be careful so Whumper doesn't catch them, but they can't stay here.

#if anyone wants to write a whump/psychological thriller story but can't think of a premise #here you go #intimate whumper #creepy whumper #yandere whumper #whump #whump prompt #whumpblr #whump writing #whump tropes #conditioned whumpee #domestic whump #whumpee turned caretaker #pet whump #dude just play the Sims

[whumpshaped]

once again thinking about domestic whump. whumpee should stay in the kitchen i think

#i have zero spoons to flesh this out at all #but #ughnnhhhj #cook clean look pretty entertain guests act normal hide the bruises hide the chains #make a sandwich!! #whenever i think abt domestic whump tbh i always think abt ironing clothes #bc the clothing iron can turn whumpy so quickly #but yknow what? so can the stove #so can the oven #so can any cleaning product #im just saying #whump #domestic whump

[hurtmyfavsthanks]

Gotta love low stakes, domestic whump.

Whumpees who aren't deathly sick, but just really uncomfortable and trying to work through it. They’re trying so hard to hold back their coughs that they’re left in tears from the effort. They’re slumped over their desk, too exhausted to sit upright. Caretaker all but drags them away from their work, ignoring Whumpee’s whining and bundling them up on the couch. Whumpee’s snoring within 10 minutes. 

Whumpee’s who are left out in the sun for hours…because they fell asleep on the beach. And it just so happens that, lo and behold, Whumpee didn’t put on sunscreen despite Caretaker reminding them to several times. Whumpee’s wines of pain are the only thing making Caretaker swallow the ‘I told you so’ that Whumpee has coming.

Whumpee’s who are terrified of an upcoming medical procedure. Not because it’s an invasive, dangerous surgery, but because getting your wisdom teeth removed is embarrassing. Caretaker keeps reassuring them that yes, they're willing to drive Whumpee home, and no, they won't record Whumpee while they're out of it, even if they do say something funny. Caretaker keeps that promise, even if they can’t stop the amused, fond smile at Whumpee’s disoriented babbling. 

I love the hardcore whump sure, but I can’t deny my love for low stakes and gentle comforts.

#whumpee #caretaker #domestic whump #sick whump #medical whump #in the most literal and normal sense possible #whumplr #whump prompt #my stuff

[loonybun]

hi guys i’m here to talk about drugging and whump. and not in the ways you may think!

(put under cut for topics of drug addiction)

an idea i’ve been absolutely obsessed with is a whumper who regularly gives whumpee addictive drugs. like just imagine the possibilities for a second. whumpee feels dependent on whumper, and even if they ever try to run away, they’ll experience drawback symptoms that might just be strong enough to bring them right back. bonus points if it’s a drug that only whumper has access to so whumpee literally doesn’t have a choice. sorry im normal

another thing is not letting whumpee know that they’re being drugged. maybe whumper frames it as a supplement or gives it to them in a more conspicuous way. then when whumpee leaves and starts experiencing drawback they just get hella conflicted on why they feel so sick whenever they’re not around whumper.

#whump community #whump #whumpblr #whump writing #whump prompt #lab whump #sadistic whumper #drug whump #drugging #tw drugs #tw drug addiction #medical whump #domestic whump #pet whump #so normal about this #this is so vian you people don’t understand #this is literally just what vian does #like oh sweetie you need to take your meds #BAM 💥 addiction.

[echo-goes-mmm]

Moonflower #17

Masterpost

Previous

Next

Warnings: implied domestic abuse

Iris woke up with a throbbing headache. She had been tucked into bed, which she didn’t remember doing.

The morning light filtered through her windows, and it made her head pound.

But in order to close the curtains, she’d have to get up.

Iris groaned and pulled her blanket over her head.

“Oh good,” said a quiet voice. “You’re awake.”

It took her a moment to recognize that it was Kit. “What time is it?” she mumbled. 

“Twelve after ten.”

Alarm ran through her, and she shot up. She winced.

“Take it easy,” said Kit. “It’s your day off.”

“Oh thank god.” Iris fell back against her pillows, vaguely nauseous. Kit stood next to her bed, amused. 

“Did you even go to bed?” she asked. 

“I slept.”

“In your room?”

“You were drunk. I wanted to keep an eye on you.”

“Thanks,” she said, closing her eyes. “Could you go get me some breakfast? With orange juice?”

Iris was aware she was whining, but she couldn’t bring herself to care at the moment. She could have asked Kit to magic away her hangover, but she deserved it for drinking so much. Served her right.

“Yes, Mistress.”

Kit left, and Iris lay in her bed, trying to will herself to shower. 

The need to use the bathroom eventually forced her out of bed.

Showering did make her feel better, and the floral soap lifted her mood.

By the time she had finished and gotten dressed, Kit had breakfast waiting for her.

“Have you eaten?” she asked, uncovering the french toast and pouring herself coffee.

“Yes,” he said.

“Good.”

Kit sat on the floor as she ate, and Iris could see a strong dark green coming in at his scalp.

“Your hair isn’t black, is it?”

He seemed startled by the question. “No,” he said simply.

“It’s changing color,” she continued, “You’ve got some green coming in. I take it that’s good?”

A faint smile twitched at the corners of his mouth. “Mhm.”

Slight disappointment coursed through her.

It seemed that for every day Kit had a conversation with her, he’d be nearly silent the next.

“Let’s get some sun after breakfast,” she suggested. “I’ve been inside all week, and you need to pick out where your garden will be.”

“I get to choose?”

“Why wouldn’t you?”

Kit shrugged halfheartedly. Getting words out of him would be difficult today; she could tell.

“I don’t know what you want me to say,” he had said that first evening. Maybe he just needed a topic.

“Have you thought about what you want to do with it?” she asked.

“A little.” Iris waited, taking a sip of her orange juice.

“I… I’d like it to look like home,” he explained, fiddling with the fabric of his shirt. “Just a bit.”

“Are you going to plant some wild roses?”

Kit nodded. “If I’m allowed.”

Iris stood from her chair. “You can plant whatever you want, Kit.”

“Even a tree? Ivy? Berry bushes?” he asked, following her out the door.

“I did say whatever you want.” Brennan greeted them with a nod, and they headed down the hall. “I’m not particularly interested in gardening, Kit. I don’t care what you plant; go wild.”

Kit brightened beside her, and Iris hid a smile. He was sweet, and he deserved a place that was his; that he could choose himself.

The late morning air was warm, slightly humid, and she assumed that was good for a plant fae like Kit.

He seemed to soak in the sun, and he truly looked much better than before.

Jeff was weeding a flower bed, wheelbarrow beside him and trowel in hand.

“Good morning, Jeff.”

Jeff looked up, and squinted in the bright sun.

“Morning, your majesty.” His eyes slid over to Kit, who winced. “Morning… you.”

“Hello,” said Kit. 

“I’ve offered Kit a spot on the grounds. Something just for him to look over.”

Jeff didn’t look pleased, but he knew better than to argue with her. “Fine with me,” he said tightly. 

“Great,” Iris gave him a sunny smile. “Thank you for understanding.”

Jeff softened a little before turning back to his work.

They wandered the gardens; Kit looking around for the perfect spot.

“Anything catch your eye yet?”

“Sorry,” he said.

“No, it’s fine,” she reassured him. “I don’t mind. I could use the exercise.”

They rounded a corner, and Kit stopped.

“What is it?”

“I, uh, I like that corner over there.”

Iris followed his gaze. The high garden wall met the castle, and the castle wall curved inwards, creating a small nook. It was empty, save for a tree that created a patch of shade against the sun.

“What do you like about it?” she asked lightly, curious.

Pink tinged Kit’s cheeks. “It’s quiet,” he said. “And out of the way. And, um, it looks nice for a nap,” he added quickly. “And the walls… I don’t have to worry about someone sneaking up on me.”

Iris recalled how James Harbor had boasted about catching Kit with an iron-laced net while he slept.

“Then it’s yours.”

___________________

Three days later, and Kit dozed under the oak. It was the perfect temperature; warm but not hot, and he curled into the protective roots of the tree.

A robin sang sweetly in the branches, and Kit hummed along.

Iris was busy in a meeting, and he had wanted a nap to pass the time.

He was right about how peaceful it was.

It seemed like this spot had been forgotten about, and he liked it that way. The perfect little oasis; where he could be left alone.

“Mr. Kit?”

Or not.

Kit yawned, stretching out. “Hm?”

“I- I need some help.”

Kit’s eyes flew open, and in front of him stood the red-haired maid from before. David.

He had a black eye, and he was holding a rucksack.

Kit sat up. “What happened?”

David sniffed, lip trembling, and Kit noticed his slight sway.

“Hey,” he said, softly. “Come here.”

David sank into the grass, and Kit scooted over to sit next to him.

“I’m not supposed to be here,” said David. “I- I should b-be at home. But I don’t want to go home anymore.”

His breath smelled like alcohol.

“Have you been drinking?”

David nodded, resting his chin on his legs. “I thought it would help,” he said. “It always helps Dad.”

“It doesn’t really work that way.”

David burst into tears.

“I don’t want to do this anymore,” he sobbed. “My face hurts and he takes all my money and now we don’t have anything for food because he spent it all and he gets mad at me for it and-”

David gasped for air, and Kit pulled him close. David wept into his shirt.

“I-” Kit worked his jaw, trying to sort out what he could and couldn’t say. “Are you hungry?” he settled on. Food never hurt anyone.

David nodded. “Y-yeah. We- we ran out of… I really tried. I really did.” His voice was so small, and anger bubbled in Kit’s chest.

“Let’s go get some lunch, and we’ll figure something out.”

David sniffled. “Okay.”

taglist: @paintedpigeon1 @cupcakes-and-pain @loserwithsyle @cepheusgalaxy @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight @virtualbreadtale @bitchaknso @starfields08000 @honeycollectswhump @why-not-ask-me-a-better-question

#davids dad is the worst isnt he #ruins everything #my writing #whump #slavery whump #moonflower series #fae whumpee #royal caretaker #domestic whump

[painsandconfusion]

Hi! Love your writing!!

If it's not too much and you have time and want to, could you do a scene with an intimate whumper who's teasing whumpee for being scared?

Thank you!!!! (NO PRESSURE)

This is gorgeous. Yes. I love this prompt. Rip the other asks in my box, I have spoons for this.

.

Why Are You Scared?

(tw: intimate whumper, noncon touch, forced massage, forced comfort, implied abuse)

[Drabble Masterpost]

Whumpee flinched as the corner of their vision registered Whumper standing in the doorway.

Just...watching.

Predatory gleam in their eyes.

Whumpee swallowed thickly, grabbing the remote to turn their show to half mute. "...h-i uh...you.....wanna watch too...?"

Whumper's eyes raked down over them as they took a step closer. "I am watching."

Whumpee chewed on their lip, nodding as they turned the volume back up. "...do you...w-anna...sit on the couch...?"

"Mmmno. No, I'm good standing."

Whumpee's skin tingled - hairs on the back of their neck prickling up as Whumper prowled behind the couch to watch over their shoulder. Whumper's hands slid over the back of the couch, still out of view bust rustling against fabric nonetheless.

Whumpee flickered as warm breath brushed behind their ear. "Why are you so jumpy?"

Whumpee's fingers tangled together in their lap. "I...I wasn't trying t-...m'sorry-"

A soft whimper pressed from their throat as warm hands slithered over their shoulders, kneading gently into knotted muscle. It sent a shudder down their spine, pressing their entire body tighter in on itself.

"Just watch your show. You earned it."

Whumpee's lips pressed tight together, but they forced their eyes to stay glued on the screen as they gave Whumper a small nod. "Y-es sir."

Whumper hummed, continuing the slow massage. After a moment, they found a knot and prodded at it, rolling their thumb in hard circles around it until Whumpee was whimpering.

Whumper chuckled. "Did you break a rule, sweetheart?"

White fuzz scattered across Whumpee's mind. They shoved down the spark of panic and the burning of their eyes. "I...I d-onn't think so-??"

Whumper hummed in amusement, leaning in. Whumper's words brushed hot against the shell of their ear. "Then why are you so scared~?"

[Drabble Masterpost]

(tags: @prisonerwhump @whumpawink @mabledonut @happy-little-sadist @paleassprince @distinctlywhumpthing @wibbly-wobbly-whump @batfacedliar-yetagain @suspicious-whumping-egg @wormwriting @villainsvictim @throwawaywhumper @wild-selenite-caffine @whumpasaurus101 @thecitythatdoesntsleep @whumpworld @pinkieglitterheart @whumpberry-cookie @rainbows-and-whumperflies @a-galactic-fox @shywhumpauthor @cyberneticwhump @bumpwhump @hold-back-on-the-comfort @veyroswin @whumping-seven-days-a-week @whumpingisfun @suffering-and-misery @definitely-not-a-seagull-i-swear @yetanotheraltwhumpblog @whump-queen @a-whumped-tea @whumpsday @sonder35)

As always, lmk if you want to be added or removed from any tag lists!

#short one but i like it #intimate whumper #noncon touch #forced massage #forced comfort #implied abuse #creepy whumper #domestic whump #i dont think theyre a thing #this is very much a kidnaping situation #but its more a domestic vibe #whumpee wandering free #watching tv #reward system #etc #whump #whump drabble #whump scene #request #sand asks

[whumpy-bi]

“Are you okay?”

Inspired by @octopus-reactivated’s tags!

Words: 695

Warnings/tags: implied abuse, captivity, domestic whump, controlling behavior, mute whumpee

Whumpee was hard at work this morning, adding new flowers to the front garden of Whumper’s home. They always referred to it as Whumpee’s home, too—but Whumpee knew the truth. None of it was theirs.

But they pushed the thought from their mind, instead focusing on gently patting down the soil around the new assortment of red flowers. They immediately glanced over their shoulder at the sound of an approaching car—Whumper couldn’t be home early, they were never home early—

Whumpee deflated with relief. It was the next door neighbor, whom Whumpee had spotted a few times whenever Whumper had them doing work outside. They worked odd hours, and it wasn’t unusual for Whumpee to see them returning in the mornings in scrubs.

Sometimes, they wondered what the neighbor’s job actually was. Maybe Whumper knew.

They had been so lost in their observations, Whumpee had accidentally begun staring. Caretaker raised a hand as they walked to their door, smiling in an inviting way.

“Hi, Whumpee! Haven’t seen you in a while!”

Whumpee nearly jumped at the realization they were being addressed directly. But they smiled back and nodded, shrugging and turning their attention back to the flowers.

Caretaker frowned slightly. Whumpee had always reacted like that, when Whumper wasn’t with them. They always seemed to be trying to seem busy, suddenly concerned with fiddling with the pillows on the deck or adjusting the flowers. They had always seemed nervous, in Caretaker’s opinion. Were they making them nervous?

They walked over, peering down at the new bunch of flowers. “Hey, those look really nice. They’ll do great in this weather, I think. You chose a good one.”

Whumpee nodded, only briefly glancing up.

“You’re pretty good at this, I think. Hey—if you want, I have a little garden out back, maybe you could give me some advice.”

Whumpee shook their head. Firmly, quickly. Caretaker seemed surprised even as they rushed back into the house.

Again, so nervous.

Whumper sat down on the couch, scrolling through their phone as Whumpee hung up their bag and keys for them.

“I saw Caretaker come over to you, on the cameras.”

Whumpee only nodded. They busied themself with fixing the curtains.

“Sit down, Whumpee.” Whumper smirked when Whumpee obeyed.

“I heard them invite you to their home.”

Another nod.

“You said no, that’s very good. I wouldn’t be able to watch you at someone else’s house. And you know how much that’d upset me. If they ask again, I’m going to have to talk to them.”

It was another week before Whumpee saw Caretaker again. Now, Whumper was dozing off on the deck chair while Whumpee wiped down the railing. Caretaker approached again, their usual friendly smile across their face. But, this time, they whispered.

“Hey, Whumpee. Are they asleep?”

Whumpee nodded, feeling their stomach churn. They were excited Caretaker had come over to talk to them, and that feeling was unnerving.

“I just wanted to check in with you…I feel like I never see you leave the house.”

Whumpee swallowed. Oh, god.

“Whumpee, can you look at me?” Their warm and quiet voice hadn’t faltered, but Caretaker sounded more serious now. Whumpee obeyed.

“Is everything okay? Are you okay?”

Whumpee’s stomach flipped. This could be their chance, their escape from—

Whumper slapped a hand on their shoulder, seemingly sharply awake now. “Of course they’re okay, neighbor! You’ve been working late nights again?”

“Yes, I have, but…” Caretaker’s jaw shifted.

“I wasn’t asking you. I was asking Whumpee.”

“Wel, they can’t talk, so—“

“That doesn’t mean they can’t answer.”

Whumper looked confused for a brief second before their expression snapped back into a polite smile. “Well, they’ll tell you the same thing. We’re doing great. Why don’t you come up here and have a beer with us?”

Caretaker waved a hand, maintaining their own polite expression even as their chest tightened with concern. They hadn’t broken eye contact with Whumpee, who looked absolutely petrified. “I…have some stuff to do in the house, but thank you. It was good to see you, Whumpee.”

Caretaker watched from their own window Whumper dragged Whumpee back inside by the arm. Whumpee undoubtedly needed help.

#whump #whumpee #writing #whump writing #caretaker #whumper #captivity #domestic whump

[whumpbug]

another fic?! unheard of. short and sweet ficlet heavily inspired by several posts with this plot !

context →

A and B are in a relationship, written more to be romantic but can be platonic if you squint. A is a little more stoic and (usually) not as affectionate, while B is more talkative and doting.

setting is modern, in an apartment. A and B live together, mostly a domestic fluff sickfic kinda thing!

whumpee: A

caretaker: B

[gender neutral A and B]

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

A stared at their laptop and groaned, running a hand through their tangled hair. They had been trying to focus on work for what seemed like hours, but to no avail. They just couldn’t get their brain to wake up enough to get any actual work done. They felt awful about it.

Actually, they felt awful in general. For one, it was a relatively cold day. The fall was transitioning to winter, so the weather had been a bit dreadful recently. It was cold enough to need to layer and drink warm beverages, but not quite cold enough to justify the money it would cost to turn on the heat.

Obviously the cold was doing them no favors, but everything else could be explained away. Their throat was sore from the dry air. Their head hurt from one too many hours staring at a screen. Their bones ached from having to run to catch the bus that morning. Everything had a reason, and they needed to just brush it off and get to work. The world couldn’t stop turning because they felt off for one day.

A would just have to suck it up. They decided to move themselves and their laptop to the kitchen table, hoping a change in scenery would help clear their foggy mind. They took a seat and placed their hands on the keyboard, with every intention to get right to work. Now they would definitely get some work done. They just had to focus.

The efforts to focus were in vain, because they felt themself space out nearly immediately, staring at the words on the screen as they jumbled and blended together. They let out another soft groan and ran a hand through their hair once again, trying to just get themselves together.

The longer they sat their, staring at the screen, the heavier their eyelids began to feel. Soon, it was nearly impossible to keep them open. They would just rest their eyes for a few moments, just to clear their head and reset. They would get back to work in just a second. They put their head down. Just for a few minutes.

••••

B unlocked the door and emerged into the apartment gratefully and swiftly. The chill outside is no joke. They had spend the better part of their shift at work shivering and drinking hot cups of tea to warm them from the inside out. Now, they would be able to come home and warm up with their beloved A, who should have gotten home a few hours ago.

When they place their things down, they looked up and saw that they were right. A is home, but.. unusually, they are dozing off at the kitchen table. That was odd. A was never the type of person to just fall asleep like that. In fact, they hated naps. They said it made it harder to sleep at night.

B decided to wake them up, knowing it what they would want anyways.

B approached A’s sleeping form, and a fond grin spread across their face. A’s head was pillowed in their arms and they were snoring softly. The entire scene was so endearing, and B felt their heart ready to burst. Still, A would want to be woken up from something like this.

“Hey honey.. wake up A, you don’t wanna be up all night,” B said softly, smoothing A’s mussed hair back gently.

A groaned and lifted their head, meeting B’s eyes blearily.

“Wh.. when did you get here?” A murmured. They looked positively miserable. They felt it too.

“Just a few minutes ago. You.. alright? You’re not normally this tired..”

A simply scrubbed at their eyes and buried their face in their hands before coming up to answer.

“I’m fine.. just.. just a little worn out from work. A lot of deadlines to meet,” They mumbled, closing their laptop. Despite their claim, they’ve given up trying to work today. It’s too hard to even stay awake, let alone get meaningful progress done. “I’m gonna go take a hot shower. It’s freezing in here.”

B laughed softly in agreement. “I might follow suit, I’ve been shivering my way all through work! I think it’s time we cave and put the heat on.”

B raised an eyebrow at A’s lackluster response, or rather, lack of a response, and stepped a bit closer. Looking at them in this light, B could see how off A really looked. Their eyes were shadowed, more than usual, and they had a bit of a far away look to them. They were pale, save for two rosy splotches on their cheeks. B frowned and pressed their palm to A’s forehead, then their cheek, then their neck. Their frown deepened when they felt the heat radiating off of their skin.

“A.. how long have to had that fever..?” B asked, smoothing back their hair gently.

“…What fever..?” A asked, meeting B’s eyes. This fever was news to A, but it definitely would explain the way they’ve been feeling.

“Honey, you’re burning up.. have you been feeling like this all day?” B cooed, pulling A close to their chest and rubbing their tense shoulders. The poor thing didn’t even know they were sick.

“I.. I don’t know.. I’ve felt weird.. my throat hurts.. I just.. I couldn’t focus on work..” A melted into B’s warm body. Their own gave a big shiver as they turned to press their face against B’s chest. Yes, maybe they really were sick. They didn’t usually feel this.. cuddly.

“Well.. I guess this explains it.. your fever probably made you feel all foggy.. I’m surprised you didn’t catch it sooner! You need to start paying attention to your body more, sweetheart,” B said softly, smiling at A’s clinginess. They weren’t complaining. They ran a hand through A’s sweat-soaked locks and gently rocked them side to side. “How about you go grab a quick shower and I’ll have everything nice and comfy and set up for you when you get out, okay?”

Usually A would protest. Usually A would insist they were fine and that they didn’t need to be doted on. Usually, they would just tough it out and continue with their work. But B was so sweet and warm and inviting, and the offer was too appealing to refuse. They nodded, and reluctantly peeled themselves away from B’s embrace to go through the motions of winding down for bed.

One hot shower and a matching set of dryer-warmed pajamas later, and A was snuggled into B’s side on the couch as they fought with everything they had to keep their eyes open. The heat was now blasting throughout the apartment, easing the chills of both A and B.

B looked down at the fevered head against their shoulder, and they felt their heart clench. A was so peaceful, so content to just be in B’s arms. Even if it was mostly the fever making them like this, B was glad A was so comfortable with them in such a vulnerable state. B held A a little closer, pressing a kiss to the top of their freshly shampooed hair.

A let out a soft sigh and turned their face into the crook of B’s neck. They hummed softly in pure bliss. After a stressful and frustrating day, this was exactly what they needed. They ought to do this more often.

“You’re.. you’re so warm,” A feverishly mumbles, settling closer into B’s arms.

“I’m warm!? Have you felt your own body temperature?! You’re like my personal heating pad!” B exclaims with a laugh. They peppered playful kisses all over A’s warm face, and A just scrunches their nose and lets out a breathy laugh.

After a few more minutes of idly watching some drama on the TV, A’s weight on B becomes heavier, and B hears their breathing even out. Finally asleep.

B smiled down at them, and adjusted the blankets so they cover the entirety of A’s curled up body.

A really was awful at knowing what their body needed, but at least they had B. B always knew somehow, and A couldn’t be more grateful.

A let the worries of the world fall away as they sunk into B’s living arms, comfortable at last.

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

#i wrote this in one sitting #so please forgive errors #this was fun!! #fever whump #whump #sick whump #cold whump #exhaustion whump #whump fic #domestic whump #fluff #whump prompt #also i decided to change the tense of it last second so ignore mistakes

[whumptydumptysatonawall]

Give me a Whumpee who's a hopeless romantic. A Whumpee who loves love, who wants to have candlelit dinners, who wants to be sent flowers, who wants to write love letters, who wants to be cuddled to sleep.

Now give them Whumper, who is only with Whumpee for appearances. Whumper who, behind the scenes, pushes Whumpee into furniture, locks Whumpee out in the freezing cold, and makes Whumpee believe that no one could ever love them.

(and maybe when Caretaker rescues Whumpee they have to rebuild Whumpee's trust and then they live happily ever after the end)

#whump prompt #whump #whump blog #writing ideas #writing inspiration #writing prompts #writing prompt #whump tropes #whumpee x whumper #whumpee x caretaker #whumpee #whumper #caretaker #domestic whump

[abhainnwhump]

Cleaning out Whumper's old house, Caretaker isn't expecting much. It's just some dirty books and files. They move a filing cabinet aside and a stack of papers fall off. Caretaker picks them up and accidently reads them. It's information sheets about Whumpees Whumper kidnapped, tortured, and killed over the years. Caretaker is in shock. Then they're knocked out.

The house wasn't abandoned.

#whump #whumpblr #whump writing #whump prompt #whump tropes #creepy whumper #domestic whump #i was helping my dad clean out this house and that inspired this #no dead people but there was a massive thesaurus from 1896 that's worth $200 today

[whumpshaped]

Whumpee lives an uncanny, perfect life with Whumper. They start to question whether the pills they take every day are really migraine pills at all.

content: domestic whump, noncon drugging, intimate whumper, paranoia (but not baseless)

It was a strange thought. A strange, disturbing thought that made Whumpee feel like they were going crazy.

They stared at the pills in their hand like it was the first time they'd seen them, turning them back and forth with their thumb. There was nothing unusual about them, really. They were the same pills they'd taken every time the migraine struck. And yet, they seemed so... foreign.

"Everything alright, dear?" their spouse asked from the table. "You look worried. Or is the migraine bad today?"

"I'm okay, honey. Thank you." Whumpee set the medication back down on the counter. "Actually, the migraine is thankfully fading. Hopefully, it won't come back any time soon."

Whumper furrowed their brows, the perfect picture of the concerned significant other. "If it's still just fading, then you should probably take that last two. Just in case."

"I think I'm okay. I don't want to waste them." They sat down at the table, feeling the tiniest twinge of fear as their spouse's intense gaze fixed on them.

"I'm worried about you," they said softly. "I'd rather you waste a whole box for nothing than be without them when you need them for fear of 'being too expensive'. You know I'd give an arm and a leg to make those migraines stop for you, money is no obstacle."

"I know, sweetheart. Thank you." They reached across the table, prompting Whumper to take their extended hands. "But I'm okay. I really am."

Whumper stared at them for a long, uncomfortable moment before they finally smiled. "Alright. You know best."

Whumpee left for the pharmacy as soon as their spouse was gone. They bought a bottle of the medication they were apparently taking for their migraine, frantically pouring the pills out onto the counter.

They looked nothing like their medication.

~

this is one of my last drabbles here, please feel free to follow me on my new blog @sowhumpshaped

#asks #whump #whump drabble #domestic whump #noncon drugging #intimate whumper #paranoia

[whumpitisthen]

"...What am I even supposed to be?"

"What do you mean, love?"

"No matter how hard I try, it's never good enough for you. You want something different every day! I try to be a good pet, but you want a competent servant that day. I try to be a servant, but your mood changes and now I'm supposed to be acting like some kind of fucked up life partner! Then, when you get bored, you tell me that furniture doesn't talk and call me a toy... And no matter what I do, I always end up getting, getting fucking tortured. What even am I anymore? Please, just tell me! I hate this god damn guessing game all the time!"

"Hmm... Good question."

"You don't even know!"

"I suppose I haven't thought of that."

"Well, make up your mind then! B-Because I can't, I just can't do this anymore, I can't..."

"Don't start crying now. You know I hate to see you cry."

"Oh, do you now? Because I seem to remember you praising me for my 'beautiful tears' just yesterday, when you were done strangling me. But I guess I'm not a pretty prisoner anymore, am I, because your mood has changed since then! Maybe I'm a pet again, or a slave, or a toy, or a housewife, or a lover-"

"Mine."

" - or a piece of furniture... Huh, what?"

"You're mine. That's what you are."

"Wh... But that doesn't-"

"No, hush. You've said a lot more than I wish to tolerate for today. I think I'd rather you stop talking now."

"Aw, did your mood-"

"I said shut it, Whumpee. That's enough out of you.

And yes, my mood did change, thanks to you, and now I would like you to be my little stress toy again. You've gone and made me wanna squeeze the life out of you. You really shouldn't remind me how adorable you look squirming under me when I choke you, by the way. If you hadn't, I might have been content cuddling you a little while longer."

<

Masterlist

#whump #creepy whumper #sadistic whumper #my writing #whump writing #whump dialogue #defiant whumpee #whump prompt #referenced torture #references to past abuse #domestic whump #begging #crying

[echo-goes-mmm]

Moonflower #15

Masterpost

Previous

Next

Warnings: domestic abuse, alcoholism

Note: Ari is non-binary and uses they/them pronouns

Kit considered the pull-rope in the corner of his room. He’d seen Iris use hers once, to call a servant to pick up a dress that needed ironing before the usual laundry day.

Kit bit his lip. Slaves shouldn’t get to call servants, but how else would he be able to contact David?

He pulled the heavy cord, and waited.

It was only a few minutes before a servant appeared at his door. It wasn’t David, but someone he hadn't seen before.

“You rang for me, uh…?” they floundered for a title.

“Just Kit, please.” 

“What can I do for you, Kit?” The servant had a nice smile.

“Do you know David? I need to ask him to do something for me.”

“Oh, sure! I’ll go get him for you.” The servant turned to go.

“Thank you. Oh, um, what can I call you?” 

They looked back, confused. “You want to know my name?”

Kit worried the sleeve of his shirt. “Is that… odd? Sorry.”

“No. Well- a little. Most people don’t ask. I’m Ari.”

Kit winced at the wording. It wasn’t Ari’s fault they weren’t familiar with introducing themselves to faeries.

“It’s nice to meet you,” he said instead.

Ari gave him a smile. “You too,” they said. “I’ll go get David.”

___________________

David nervously walked down the hall to the royal wing. Kit had asked for him; for a favor, and he didn’t know what to expect.

He tugged on the sleeves of his uniform. It was a hot day, too hot for long sleeves, but it covered his marks.

He hoped Kit wasn’t mad at him for leaving so quickly. Dad had already been upset when he got home early, and he couldn’t handle more people yelling at him right now.

David took in a deep breath before knocking on the door.

“Come in,” called Kit.

David turned the handle and stepped inside, closing the door as quietly as possible.

Kit turned to look at him, and David suppressed a shudder.

The fae’s looked calm, but David couldn’t help but be wary. Kit was tall, and probably unnaturally strong, and had sharp teeth and strangely bright eyes and could do magic-

“Are you alright?” asked the faerie.

“Yes,” he squeaked.

The fae crossed the room towards him, and David tried his best to stay still.

“Hey,” said Kit, hand brushing over his, gently taking it in his. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

Faeries couldn’t lie.

“Okay.”

Kit’s thumb rubbed a small circle on the back of his hand. “I just want to talk to you.”

“Okay,” he said. He couldn’t think of anything else to say.

Kit tugged him along to the couch, and David automatically sat down after him.

“I know we don’t really know each other. But, um, if someone’s been hitting you, I can help.”

Oh. 

“It’s nothing,” he said. “It’s not like that.”

Kit tilted his head, his bright teal eyes watching him like a cat watches a mouse. Or at least, that’s how it felt.

“What’s it like, then?”

David bit his lip. “It’s not his fault,” he muttered.

“Who?”

Kit wasn’t going to let it go, was he?

“My dad,” he admitted. “But it’s really not his fault. He just gets angry, sometimes, and he’s been stressed. He’s fine the rest of the time.”

David knew what Kit was going to say.

“It’s still not right. We can get you help; away from-”

“I won’t go,” he blurted, and Kit went quiet. “I’m all he’s got left. Mom died, and I can’t-” David’s voice broke- “I can’t just leave him. He needs me.”

“Does he?” asked Kit quietly. 

David nodded, tears beginning to gather at the corners of his eyes. “Family sticks together. And he needs the money I bring home.”

“He doesn’t work?” 

David thought about the empty bottles of alcohol in the house, the smell of old beer and whiskey, the stench of drink on Dad’s breath.

“He’s sick,” he said, instead of the truth. “He never got better after mom passed away.”

Kit didn’t look convinced. “If you ever change your mind,” he said gently. “I’ll do whatever I can.”

David nodded. “Thanks. I uh, better get back to work.” He stood to go, but Kit grabbed his hand again.

“I mean it,” said Kit, the scent of fresh flowers flooding the room. “Freely offered, freely given. I promise.”

David shivered, a tingle of magic running up his spine. “Thank you.”

___________________

He pushed open the door to the cottage, the acrid smell of old wine hitting him square in the face.

“I’m home,” he called out into the house.

“Shut the damn door,” grumbled Dad, his face buried into the couch cushions. He must be hungover again.

David closed the door. Dad glared at the sound, even though David had already oiled the latch a dozen times.

“Sorry,” he whispered. “Have you eaten today?”

“Obviously not,” said Dad. “You were at work.”

“Right. I’ll, uh, make dinner.”

David left the room before Dad could ask if he got more hours.

He checked the pantry. It was mostly empty; he hadn’t had the time to go to the market. And there was no way he would ask Dad to go get groceries. That never went well.

There was enough to throw together a soup, and some bread to help fill them up, but that was all he could manage.

___________________

“Is that it?” frowned Dad, staring at his bowl.

David’s heart sank. “I haven't gone shopping yet,” he said. “I’m sorry.”

Dad rolled his eyes. “Did you at least get a better work schedule?”

David looked down at his bowl. “No,” he whispered.

Dad slammed his fist on the table, and David jumped. “Dammit, David,” he hissed, “Can’t you get anything done?”

“I- the schedule is already made for next week,” he explained, “if you had asked me earlier-”

“Don’t you dare pin this on me, boy.” Dad jabbed his spoon in his direction. “It’s not my fault you’re useless. Do you even care about me?”

“I do!” he protested.

“Then do better. Am I understood?”

David bit his lip. “Yes, sir.”

___________________

Dad smashed the plate against the wall, and David dove out of the way.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry- Dad, please-”

“Shut the fuck up!” Dad screamed, his hand reaching for a framed portrait. 

David watched in horror as the glass shattered right where he’d been standing, the frame bent.

“I let you stay here, for free, and this is the thanks I get!?” 

“I’m sorry!” David pleaded, scrambling away. Dad stalked forward and grabbed him by the arm, yanking hard. David stumbled, and Dad reached for a bottle.

“Don’t!” he cried, but the bottle smashed against his temple, and the world went dark.

___________________

The house was empty when he woke up. His head hurt like hell. He pressed a hand to his temple, and it came away sticky and red.

He whimpered, the sound making his head hurt like one of Dad’s hangover headaches.

David slowly sat up.

The room was just as Dad had left it; trash everywhere. David picked himself off the floor.

The picture frame Dad had smashed still lay on the ground. David gathered up the remains. 

It was an old portrait. Mom, Dad, and him; from years ago. It was the only one he could convince Dad to keep after the funeral.

It was torn, and the frame was unsalvageable.

David heard the key in the latch.

He quickly pulled the portrait free, folded it, and tucked it away in his pocket.

“Hey champ,” said Dad, swaying into the room. There was a bottle in his hand, half empty. Gin. “Back from work?”

His voice was cheery, as if nothing had happened and he hadn’t left his son to bleed on the floor.

“Sure,” he croaked. The clock on the mantle said two am.

“Great.” Dad looked around the room. “Clean this up for me, ‘kay bud? I’m going to bed.”

“Okay.”

David watched his father stumble into the bedroom.

He began to sweep up the shattered plates, his mother’s favorite pattern in pieces, and tried not to cry.

taglist: @paintedpigeon1 @cupcakes-and-pain @loserwithsyle @cepheusgalaxy @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight @virtualbreadtale @bitchaknso @starfields08000

#oh david sweetie no #david is not a minor. jsyk #moonflower series #my writing #whump #slavery whump #domestic whump #parental whumper #fae whumpee #royal caretaker

[rule-masochism]

domestic whump kissies!! whumper just shutting whumpee tf up with a rough kiss on the lips bc the only thing their mouth is good for is to service whumper!!!

#domestic whump #implied nsfwhump

[when-the-feet-hurt]

“Sir, are you awake?”

Whumper slowly opens their eyes to a harsh light that dims when they groan in annoyance.  Their arm aches.

“Please forgive me, sir.  I was trying to bandage your arm, but I couldn’t see very well and—”

“Why were you touching me?”

Whumpee sits up straight as their body trembles.  “I… Um…”

Whumper narrows their eyes.  “Why did you touch me, pet?”

“You were…  You were going to fix the sink in the kitchen, and you went to get the toolbox upstairs, but when you were… when you were coming back downstairs, you fell, and the toolbox opened, and… and something cut your arm.”

Looking down, Whumper sees discarded red cotton balls on the edge of the bed and a small roll of bandages.  They look to the side.  A half-empty bottle of rubbing alcohol sits on the nightstand next to a first aid kit.  In the corner of their vision, they can see Whumpee’s gloved hands shaking.  Whumper chuckles weakly.  How cute.

“I'm aware it isn’t my place to ask, but what’s…  What’s funny, sir?”

“You put on gloves.”

Whumpee turns bright red and folds their hands in their lap.  “I…  I didn’t want your cut to get infected, sir.”

“You doused my arm in rubbing alcohol,” Whumper says, nodding to the bottle on the nightstand.  “I doubt I could get it infected even if I tried to.”

“Please don’t,” Whumpee mumbles.

Whumper sits up a bit, craning their head forward.  “What was that?  I taught you to speak up, pet.”

“Please don’t try and get it infected, sir,” Whumpee repeats, looking up with tears in their eyes.

Whumper bites back a laugh.  “That was a joke.  I’m not going to get it infected.”

Whumpee breathes a sigh of relief, the collar on their neck slipping just the slightest bit as they offer a shy smile to Whumper.  “I’m glad then, sir.  Do you feel alright?”

“I’ll be fine,” Whumper says, trying their best not to burst out into laughter at the various ice packs on their legs and hands, melting as the conversation goes on.

“Do you need anything else, sir?”

Opening their mouth, Whumper goes to mention the ice packs—but then they look at the used-up bandage roll, the bloody cotton balls, the still-open bottle of rubbing alcohol, and Whumpee’s wet gloves, and Whumper shakes their head.

“You can leave, Whumpee,” Whumper says.  “You did a good job.”

The tears finally fall from Whumpee’s blue eyes as their lip quivers.  “R-Really?”

“Yes, really.”

The tears fall down Whumpee’s sharp red cheeks.  “Thank you, sir.  Thank you so much.”

Whumper sighs.  Whumpee’s love-filled eyes make them sick.  What kind of freak have they created?

#whump writing #conditioned whumpee #domestic whump #pet whumpee