i’m not so predictable

gracie | 19 | she/her | writer angsty student trying her best

[whumpscreamqueen]

very attractive things you should make your caretaker do

Leaning down so that they can hear whumpee properly. (Works best with a good size/height difference.)

When they watch whumpee from across a room, especially at a party where they’re obviously not listening to the people talking to them.

They’re walking a little in front of whumpee and when they realise, they immediately slow down so whumpee is walking next to them.

Pulling whumpee onto their lap when there’s no more space on the couch.

When they’re laughing with whumpee but their gaze keeps flickering to whumpee’s lips.

That moment when someone becomes even slightly threatening to whumpee and they step in front of them protectively.

They’re constantly studying whumpee for any signs of discomfort or pain. Always looking at their face or hands…

Gently guiding whumpee out of the way by placing their hands on whumpee’s waist.

Just hugs…long hugs, especially if whumpee falls asleep mid-hug, when they feel so safe and so comfortable.

Letting whumpee play with a piece of their clothing or their hands or even their hair.

When whumpee initiates any form of intimacy and caretaker’s breath hitches because oh god…it’s happening.

[friendsandfoood]

TW: Force feeding

Whumpee hasn’t eaten in days. According to them, they’d rather starve than be under Whumper’s thumb anymore. And it’s starting to show in the dryness of their lips and slight inward curve of their belly. Every now and then, Whumper will hear Whumpee’s stomach growl loudly.

It’s after a bad day, and upon hearing this noise again, that Whumper storms off to the kitchen. They’re not going to let Whumpee sulk like a child and get away so easily. They spent far too much time trying to get them in the first place.

Whumper decides that instant oatmeal will work. Maybe something soft will minimize the choking risk. Before heading back to Whumpee’s cell, they also grab zip ties. Whumpee won’t try to run from this.

The door to the cell opens, and Whumpee looks up from the floor. Their eyes settle on the oatmeal before slumping back down.

“Won’t work,” Whumpee says. “I’m not gonna—“

Whumper snatches Whumpee by the hair and drags them to a chair bolted to the floor. Whumpee kicks uselessly at the floor with swinging feet. A cry tears from their throat as Whumper slams their back into the chair.

“Wait, what are you doing?” Whumpee asks. Whumper wrestles Whumpee’s wrists down onto the arm rest and secures it with the zip tie.

“You’re not starving to death,” Whumper growls. “Not on my watch.”

Whumpee’s eyes widen. They try to start fighting again, but Whumper simply grabs their limbs before restraining them to the chair. Whumpee is breathing heavily now, teeth bared and eyes wide.

Whumper grabs the bowl of oatmeal off the floor. They scoop a spoonful and hover it toward Whumper’s mouth. Whumpee purses their lips and clenches your jaw

“Don’t make this hard,” Whumper says, their voice low. “Open your mouth.”

Whumpee glares at them, their eyes reading an obvious “go to hell”. Whumper’s nostrils flare as they slam the hot bowl down onto the floor. They lurch forward and dig their fingers into Whumpee’s jaw, hard enough that it feels like their jaw will break under Whumper’s grip.

And just when Whumper thinks they’ll have to resort to something more drastic, Whumpee’s lips part. Whumper shoves the spoon in Whumpee’s mouth. Before they can recover, another spoonful is shoved in. Whumpee tries to spit it out, but Whumper’s hand clamps over their mouth.

“Swallow,” Whumper hisses.

Whumpee swallows.

“P-please,” Whumpee stutters. “I—”

Whumper forces in another spoonful of oatmeal.

Then another

Then another

Whumper doesn’t stop until a few straggler grains are left behind. Whumper slumps forward in the chair, coughing and gasping.

“Don’t you dare throw up,” Whumper demands.

“I won’t,” Whumpee chokes out.

After a minute, Whumper’s face softens. They place the spoon in the bowl and head for a small sink in the corner.

“See?” they say. “That wasn’t so hard!”

Whumpee doesn’t answer, the only sound being the lightbulbs flickering above and the hiss of water coming from the faucet.

“I trust we won’t have this problem again,” Whumper asks.

Whumpee’s head tilts up. Their cheeks are cut with silent tears and bruises are starting to form along their jawline.

“No,” Whumpee reassures. “I won’t do it again.”

[aggrieved-devotion]

"Oh no, you don't want that one. It's set to be decomissioned, it's defective. Killed it's last two handlers."

Handler's eyes focus between the bars of the cage, taking in the cuffs, the muzzle, the defiant posture. LW stares back, blank faced, save for the lightest spark of hate in their eyes.

"Well, I do love a challenge."

[survivesurvivingwhump]

Caretaker who, after weeks of dancing around the subject, panics and blurts out the question that's been weighing them down: "were you raped?"

Whumpee who doesn't know what to say because the way that the question was phrased makes them feel like such a victim. "did whumper rape you?" would have been fine because it's something whumper did, not something that happened to whumpee. But whumpee could not be a person that was raped. They just couldn't be. They're reaching into their mind for some way to create their own consent after the fact just to not have been a rape victim, to not be that vulnerable,

Caretaker who takes the silence and the stricken look on whumpee's face as answer enough.

"i'm sorry," caretaker says, stricken and horrified. they know what the look on whumpee's face means, the way the answer is in the silence of the answer they couldn't give. "fuck, i shouldn't have just said it like that, i'm sorry. i just- i couldn't- i'm sorry."

whumpee hunches over, heaving in breath after strangled breath. caretaker moves to comfort them and whumpee jerks away, shaking their head.

(and caretaker stops. caretaker immediately stops. and whumpee has to fight hard not to shatter at that - that all it took was just moving away. they didn't even have to tell caretaker not to touch them. they didn't have to say don't or stop. caretaker saw that they didn't want to be touched and then didn't touch them. fuck.)

"i don't- i didn't want to."

"i know, i-"

"no," whumpee interrupts. because caretaker doesn't know. they think whumpee meant they didn't want to have sex, but that isn't it at all. "i mean i didn't want to be raped. like- like i didn't want that to be what happened. i didn't want- i want it to be something i wanted. something i made happen. i didn't want it to have been- i don't- fuck. fuck."

[callithumpwhump]

Characters that are gravely and shamefully convinced that they are dangerous, able to kill, have no control of their power, that would rather die than injure someone close to them. Characters that yell and scream and scramble to back away, throwing their hands up and crying 'Please, stay back, I don't want to hurt you.' Characters that think they are nothing but a loose cannon, a loaded gun, a ticking time bomb.

[aggrieved-devotion]

Living weapon put off leash for the first time and they just do as told. They think they could run, but their feet won't move. Handler gives them an order and they go. And then they come back. For all their telling themselves that they'd bolt the second they could, their flawed, damaged flesh only knows obedience now.

[whumpologyy]

"Please."

Whumpee's voice was raw and hoarse from days of screaming. They licked their dry lips and tried again.

"Please, I can't again, not today.....please......"

"Please what?" Whumper's voice was calm, casual, as they glanced up from readying their tools.

"Please don't hurt me. Not like -- not like yesterday."

Whumper looked at them, almost amused. Then their expression flickered with something akin to consideration, and they stepped closer.

"Alright. I hear you. I won't hurt you today."

Whumpee's shoulders sagged in relief, but it was short-lived. Whumper's grin widened, a glint of amusement sparking in their eyes.

Instead of striking, they leaned lower, lips brushing Whumpee's collarbone. They froze. No blow, no sharp pain — only the unbearable press of Whumper's mouth.

Whumper felt them tremble and chuckled. “See? I can keep my promise. I’m not hurting you. I’m enjoying you. That’s better, isn’t it?”

[dying-crying-pining]

there’s something about hands:

• splayed flat over someone’s chest, a warm, grounding anchor. “easy. easy. lay still.”

• knuckles raked across a sternum. “come on back now… that’s it. there you are. deep breaths for me.”

• the vulnerability of uncovering a painful wound to let someone else inspect it. “i promise i’ll be really gentle, but i have to take a look.”

• gently frantic. “oh my god. is that blood? is all of that yours?”

• A held captive, strung up to the rafters by their wrists. B finally rushes in, clutches A’s face in their hands, tips their chin up. desperately searches for any hint of awareness. “A. A, look at me. please look at me. i need a medic over here!”

• B’s cool hand pressed against A’s fever-hot forehead. bonus points if they cup the back of A’s head with the other hand at the same time. A closes their eyes and leans into the touch ever so slightly.

[whumpologyy]

Whumper who forces Whumpee to shower with them after an assault. Running their hands over Whumpee’s body (under the guise of washing them, or just because they can) so that the feeling of becoming “clean,” even that, starts to feel contaminated.

[frostythekillerdoll]

a whumpee that's still shaking off some stubborn conditioning hearing a trigger sound- maybe a name whumper used to call them, maybe something as innocuous as heavy footsteps or papers flying off a desk- and immediately mindlessly offering themself to caretaker. the horror as caretaker realizes that the torture whumpee endured was sexual. the pain of seeing their friend so out of it, dissociated, mute, opening their mouth and spreading their legs, waiting to be abused. caretaker knowing that whumpee didn't want them to know that part.

but whumpee is shaking. terrified. sex is something to dread, to whumpee. sex is something they need to dissociate during if whumpee has to get through it. and that just... breaks caretaker's heart. so what if caretaker helps whumpee associate sex with someone better? kinder? caretaker could make it pleasurable for whumpee. caretaker could make sure whumpee forgets the pain of whumper.

so caretaker grounds whumpee in the present by taking up the offer. and whumpee snaps out of flashbacks to realize that their friend, their caretaker- whumper 2- is suddenly inside of them.

[partimeloverfulltimefiend]

whumpee who is sooo sleepy. who passes out right after being tortured, when the adrenaline fades and they just crash. whumpee who dozes off in whumpers arms.. soo defenseless.. so easy to sneak up on, curled up in their little corner..

[half-corrective-surgery]

I'm so taken by the idea of Caretaker and drugged Whumpee. Maybe Caretaker finds them in the aftermath of what Whumper did, maybe Whumper did this to Whumpee and told Caretaker to "clean up the mess". The vulnerability of it, the humiliation.

Whumpee shaking, unable to speak clearly, curled into Caretaker's lap.

Caretaker looking around, waiting for Whumper to come back, because they know that they have to be nearby.

Whumpee trying to explain what happened, but they can't, for whatever reason that may be.

Whumpee apologizing. "I know I'm meant to be stronger than this, I know I'm meant to be better, I don't know why I can't stop crying, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry."

"I don't want to, I don't want to, I'll be good, I'm sorry."

Whumpee not being able to move... nearly completely immobile, completely in Caretaker's hands, forced to trust that they'll be kind.

"Shh, shh... it's alright, it's just me. You're safe now."

Caretaker calling them pet names, stroking their hair, doing anything they can to try to reassure them.

[whumpd-up-kicks]

A character who's been shot is captured by enemies/bad guys. They're bleeding badly, and their captors need them alive. The bullet is removed, and the wound is poured with alcohol and bandaged tightly - none of it is done gently, and, being tied up (and maybe gagged), they can do nothing but scream and cry out in pain while enduring the rough treatment.

[defire]

AGHFHB YES

Threatening whumpee with a raised backhand if they don't stop screaming

"Fucking hold---still."

Cold efficiency as their wound is opened to remove the bullet and they scream, biting down on the gag as hard as they can

Or worse, jabbing in pincers to remove it roughly, smirking at whumpee's cries

Gagging whumpee because they are screaming, and whumpee begins to whimper pleas that they will be quiet

Whumpee that doesn't want to show weakness to the enemy so they try to take it all stoically but they can't hold back the grunts of pain and the trembling and flinching as they are tended to

[writingwithoutconfidence]

Whump Dialogue List

I enjoyed writing this too much oops

WHUMPER

-> "You came for him. How predictable. How useful. He's been asking for you, you know. In the quiet moments. When he forgets I'm listening. Would you like to hear what he said? Or would you like to hear what I told him you said back?"

-> "How long did it take you to find him? Three days. I know. I counted. I also counted how many times he asked for you on day one, day two, day three. He stopped asking by day two. Because he stopped believing. You can thank me for that. I taught him realism."

-> "He's trying to speak. Oh. He's saying your name. Or he's saying mine. The sounds are so similar now. Listen. *pause* Say it again. For them."

-> "Sit down. No, not there. Closer. I want him to smell you when he wakes up. If he wakes up. You can hold his hand if you like. I've already held everything else."

-> "Tell them. Tell them what you told me last night. About the door. About why you didn't run when it was open. Or shall I? He said he wasn't sure you'd still want him. I didn't correct him."

-> "I've catalogued everything he brought with him. Watch. Wallet. A photograph — you, I assume, though he's wrinkled it beyond recognition. And this." *holds up object* "He screamed less when I took this than when I took the photo. Interesting, isn't it?"

-> "You fight better than he does. But he suffers better. More quietly. More completely. You'd be loud, I think. You'd beg for it to stop. He just — waits. Which of you do you think I prefer?"

WHUMPEE

-> "He's not always— sometimes he brings water. Before I ask. Don't look at me like that. You're the one who taught me to be grateful for small things."

-> "You're here. I didn't think you'd come. He said you would. He says a lot of things. I don't know which ones to believe anymore. I believed this one because it hurt more than the others. Was that the right choice?"

-> "There was a door open on the third day. Or the fourth. I walked to it. I stood in the frame. I didn't cross." *Caretaker's breath catches* "I wasn't sure if you'd be on the other side. Or if he would. I couldn't survive being wrong. So I stayed."

-> "I can hear your heartbeat. It's fast. You're afraid. Or you're lying. Or you're both. I can't tell the difference anymore. He could. He taught me the sounds, then he made me stop caring which was which."

-> "He makes me repeat things. Not facts. Feelings. He says I need to practice having them. The right ones. At the right times. For the right people. I practised being glad to see you. I practised being angry you left. I practised being scared you'd leave again. That one was easy. That one didn't need practice. That one was already there. He said that was useful. He said useful was the goal. Is that what I'm supposed to be? Useful?"

-> "I used to have a favourite colour. I think. He asked once. I said blue. He said why. I said the sky. He said I don't see the sky. He said I don't get to have favourites about things I don't see. He took it. Not the colour. The having. I don't have favourites now. I have— I have assignments."

-> "He said you wouldn't come. He said if you came, it would be for you. Not for me. He said rescuers are selfish. He said the rescue is about the rescuer's guilt." He said I shouldn't be grateful. He said gratitude is another handle. He said— he said a lot of things. But you're here. And I'm— I'm not grateful. I don't think."

[for-the-ouchies]

Whumpee learns to think of themselves as just a body, an object to be used.

It's a lot less painful than being a person being violated.

[whumporama]

When they take a mental step away from their body to survive it all my beloved. "Bodies can hurt. Bodies can die. It's not my fault. Whatever they do, I'll react. And I'll feel it. But it's what bodies do. It's just a body. It's fine. I'll be fine."

[defire]

Heavy noncon + humiliation

Content: trigger words/topics

Content: sp"nking, whipping, riding crop, belt, fear of death, anal, humiliation, forced to beg for it, fear of death

Whipping whumpee until they can barely move, let alone scream, throwing them face-first onto a bed

Yanking down their pants to reveal dotted marks from the whip's cracker that stick to their rear because of the blood

Or welts crossing both cheeks from a belt

Whumpee in so much pain they can only gasp the first syllable of a plea to stop, don't touch them, please

Weak struggles as they're pinned down by a hand on their rear as whumper pulls themselves out of their pants

Anal. It's pure torture without lube, or even with, if you go to fast. And it makes you feel like you have to puke.

Making them beg to be fucked if they want whumper to slow down a little

Making them beg to be sp"nked

Humiliating them for asking. "You like that?"

"Naughty." Smack.

Forcing them to pretend to like it

Forcing them to moan and then "talk back", essentially asking for more punishment. But it's better than being fucked harder.

Riding crop leaving small red lines all over their rear

Or a belt cracking across their back, butt and legs for their "disrespect"

Or for no reason.

Whumper getting stiffer and fucking harder for every moan and sob

The humilation of using their bare hand

Rear raw and red by the time whumper digs their nails into handfuls of flesh to finally finish

Nail marks all over whumpee's back and butt

Whumpee cooperating because they're afraid that more torture will end up killing them

[tracingthetapestry]

living weapon whumpee bites down hard on the belt in their mouth, the leather tasting awful. handler tersely sews their wound up, each nick of the needle almost imperceptible over the rush of blood in their ears and the hate welling inside them like a bomb waiting to go off.

as they cut the thread off, handler orders, "all done. get in the car," as they remove the belt from whumpee's mouth. without giving it any thought, a "no," slips out, obstinate and clipped. whumpee keeps their head turned away.

their failure plays like a video on loop in their head, over and over and over again. their hesitation cost hundreds of innocent people their lives. it's not fair.

"get in the car," handler repeats themself. steel underlines their tone, danger boiling beneath the surface.

when whumpee fails to comply in the stipulated five second period, they find themself pressed against the hood of the car, the metal digging into their freshly stitched wound. "whatever punishment you are seeking," handler hisses in their ear, sharp like a razor, "your superiors are itching to grant it. in fact, I'll be damned if you will be able to recite your own code once they are done with you. now get in the bloody car."

tears slip down whumpee's face, a steady chant of weak, weak, weak echoing in their head as they climb in it. they know that handler's right. they'll be screaming themself hoarse— if that will be allowed— by the end of today.

all the same, this harrowing guilt is a punishment unlike any, more painful and potent than anything their superiors could inflict.