This is All There Is

my whump blog. 18+ MINORS DNI

[whump-slump]

About Me °˖✧◝(⁰▿⁰)◜✧˖°

My name is Ellis and I'm 25

I use any pronouns

I've loved whump as a trope for a long time. But I wasn't aware of the community until recently.

I'm currently writing an original story which is linked below. I'm not much of a writer, but I hope you enjoy!

That being said, this blog will most likely just be for reblogs.

Masterlist Below the Cut

Original Work: The Dollhouse

Synopsis: A Mysterious billionaire becomes obsessed with a homeless girl and abducts her. What follows are tales from their time together.

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Ocs

Mimi

Lorena

◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇

Please note: The Dollhouse is not being written in any particular order. However, stories will be listed chronologically.

What's In A Name? Chapter One

What's In A Name? Chapter Two

What's In A Name? Chapter Three

What's In A Name? Chapter Four

Recaptured: Chapter One

Recaptured: Chapter Two

Recaptured: Chapter Three

Recaptured: Chapter Four

Recaptured: Chapter Five

[whump-slump]

Me and fellow Whump blogs discussing our mutual trauma.

[oddsconvert]

My brain: make friends! Send asks! Exist in more then just your blog!

Me: but what if I'm scared of friends!?!?!

Anyway, can I request Ronan catching Issak hurting Henley?

Flowers for author. 💐💐💐💐💐

Friends!!! It's official! No being scared! <3 I am so sorry for the delay with this but I hope this ticks your boxes! :D

---

“How do you sleep at night?”

Henley stirred awake, his world a blurred mess of throbbing pain. Crusted sleep clung to his lashes, he blinked fiercely to chase away the haze. He could only just about make out a hulking silhouette looming over him. When his vision finally sharpened, he instinctively clutched his scratty blanket closer to his heaving chest - his futile shield.

Cold dread flooded Henley as he saw Izaak, free of the chains that usually rattled with every twitch of a muscle. The chains that kept Henley safe and sound, out of harm's way. Far from Izaak’s reach.  Izaak's fists were clenched so hard his knuckles were white, his face contorted in a feral snarl. Panic squeezed Henley’s chest like a vice. He was a rabbit trapped in a fox's den. 

“Wha-?” Henley’s voice was a hoarse rasp. He’s half-convinced no sound left his lips at all. 

"Oh, did I interrupt your sweet dreams, Henny?" Izaak's voice was a low growl, sending shivers trickling down Henley's spine. That nickname. The way it dripped with mocking familiarity, but years of ingrained fear hid within it. It made all the hairs on Henley’s arms stand on edge. 

Izaak suddenly lunged forward. One massive hand clamped around Henley's throat, squeezing every last drop of air from his lungs. Henley's wrists burned in protest against his chains, straining as he fought for a sliver of slack, a desperate inch to reach his throat and fight Izaak off. "You," Izaak spat, barely containing his rage, "are the reason for my suffering. The cause of my anguish. Every scar on my body has your name written on it.."

Tears pressed from beneath Henley’s eyelids, and he shook his head furiously. Passionately. No. It’s not true. He’s not responsible for this. He didn’t land them here, he didn’t start all of this. This is all Izaak’s doing. This is the price he has to pay. 

“So answer the question,” Izaak demanded, now nearly crushing Henley’s windpipe as he choked and wheezed, “How the hell do you sleep at night? No. Scratch that shit. Better yet. How do you live with yourself? After what you’ve done to me?”

“I-Izaak, pleas-”

Izaak’s fist came at Henley with such speed it was like a cannonball. It connected with a sickening crunch as Henley felt his nose cave in, and hot-white pain erupted. The force of the blow sent him sprawling, the floor rose up to meet him with a jarring thud. He lay helpless. Cool blood dripped from his nose and pooled on his lips, he could taste the metallic tang. 

“You dare call me that again, and I’ll put you six feet under this fucking cement. Understand?” Izaak seethed through gritted teeth, with spit spraying and a vein pulsing from his temple. Izaak didn’t even give him the second to respond, Henley was still reeling and seeing stars. “I SAID, “DO YOU UNDERSTAND?!” he roared. 

“Yes!” Henley wailed miserably. Tears mingled with blood and dirt. He sniffed pathetically and whimpered as new pain flared through his obviously broken nose. He stayed glued to the floor. Too afraid to move, to even dare lift his head up. Henley didn’t see Izaak reaching for his long curls of hair and wrenching them in his fist. Yanking his head back, Henley’s Adam's apple bobbed against his collar as he gasped and gulped back the fear.

“‘Yes’, what?” Izaak whispered. It was hard to miss the element of enjoyment in his voice. It sounded like old times. Must feel like it to him too. 

But Henley immediately knew what he was looking for.

“Yes, sir!” Henley gasped out. There’s not a beat of hesitation. Izaak can say many things about Henley. A bad pet, he is not. 

Henley’s head smacked to the ground, his forehead banging against cold, unforgiving cement as Izaak threw him out of his hand. He’s on a warpath. He paced back and forth, contemplating what to do next. 

Izaak's foot then swung into Henley's gut. The air whooshed from Henley's lungs in a strangled scream that ripped free from his throat. The world lurched sideways, a wave of nausea crashing over him. Bile rose in his throat as pain lanced through his abdomen. Izaak unrolled Henley from his cocoon and straddled his hips, slamming his palm over Henley’s mouth, “Shut the fuck up! Don’t you dare make a sound.”

Henley obeyed. He forced himself to seal his lips, now sobbing silently and huffing through the pain. 

“You got us into this fucking mess. You deserve everything you’ve got coming to you. I’m going to make you wish you were never born-”

“I already do-” Henley croaked.

Izaak doesn’t hold back anymore. He unleashed a flurry of punches, raining blow after blow down on Henley. Henley’s already-battered body convulsed with each hit - he twisted and flailed in a desperate bid to shield himself from the onslaught. It was no use. Darkness cornered his vision, and ringing screeched in his ears. His entire body was slowly growing limp.

Henley squeezed his eyes shut, waiting for the sweet relief of unconsciousness. He waited for the next punch. And waited. But it never came. Confused, Henley cracked open a swollen and purpling eye.

Izaak was no longer looking at him, and a flicker of raw terror replaced the unhinged rage that had plagued his eyes before. Henley groaned as he lifted his pounding head, and turned to follow Izaak’s petrified stare.

A shadow shifted at the top of the stairs, a tutting sound emanating from the darkness.

“What are you doing to my boy?” Ronan asked, cool as a cucumber on the surface, but fury bubbled below. The calm facade didn’t last. Ronan flew down the stairs, and pulled that oh so familiar remote from his pocket. In the blink of an eye, Izaak was a quivering, jittering wreck as his shock collar lit up and shocked him stiff. He collapsed from Henley’s body like a tonne of bricks. His screams pierced the sound barrier - his fingers scrabbled and ripped at the collar, kicking his legs and bucking his entire body. Ronan punched the button again, and again until the screaming stopped. It’s just silent gargles, with drool dribbling down the edge of Izaak’s blue lips. 

Ronan threw Henley a single, and quick look as he bolted past. It wasn't a look of reassurance, but a quick flicker up and down to acknowledge him. Reaching his locked cabinet, Ronan fumbled with the combination and finally, the cabinet swung open, and he snatched a vial and syringe, and a length of rope.

He wastes no time in racing over to where Izaak is heaving and panting on the floor, and stabbing the syringe in his neck. Izaak roared, a sound that curdled the blood, but it was cut short by a weak gasp as the muscle relaxant began to take hold.

“There, there. That should settle you down, big-un,” Ronan chuckled, patting Izaak on the chest.

“F-ffuc- fuckk y-yoou,” Izaak slurred, his eyes rolled like pinball machines in their sockets. Henley watches as all the tone in Izaak’s muscle depleted and he flopped lifelessly. Izaak lay sprawled on the floor, a pathetic mew escaping his lips as the muscle relaxant coursed through his veins. His previously violent thrashing had dissolved into a pathetic trembling, his limbs heavy and unresponsive.

Henley's cry echoed through the basement. Now that the threat was neutralised. "You didn't tie him tight enough, sir! He almost—!" His voice choked on the rising panic, his gaze locked on Izaak's slack form. “He was going to kill me.”

Ronan paid no mind to Henley, the shivering wreck that he was. Instead, he focused on yanking Izaak’s arms behind his back. With rough rope, he bound Izaak's wrists together with a vengeance, the knots pulled tight, drawing a choked gasp that did little to faze Ronan. Next, he secured Izaak's ankles with another length of rope, the slack yanked out until Izaak's legs were splayed uncomfortably wide. Finally, with a cruel twist, Ronan bound Izaak's ankles to his secured wrists, hog-tying him in a position that screamed discomfort. Izaak's gasps faded to choked moans as his body contorted in a way it wasn't meant to, forced into an arched bow.

Ronan left Izaak on the ground and approached Henley slowly. With a touch that could have been gentle or cruel, he cupped Henley's bruised and bloodied cheek. Henley flinched at the contact, a hiss escaping his lips. Ronan’s eyes flickered over the damage and he tsked, disappointed. Then his eyes met Henley’s and locked in. “Do you really think I’d let him break one of my favourite toys?”

“He - He got pretty close, master.” Henley snivelled. He flinched as Ronan’s arms moved, expecting another blow, but instead, his arms wrapped around Henley’s tiny frame in a sudden and suffocating embrace. Ronan’s grip was tight, possessive, leaving no wiggle room. Defeated, Henley sagged into the hug and rested his head on Ronan’s chest, letting his eyes flutter shut. It was always easier to give into this than brave the pain. Ronan began to stroke Henley’s hair, twirling it in his fingers. It wasn’t a gesture of genuine affection and Henley was never under the impression that it was. It was Ronan’s sense of ownership. Like Izaak’s claim was the bruises and scars. Ronan’s was more inside than out. For Henley, at least.

“Shh Shh. Come with me. I’ll get you patched up, little one”. Grunting with effort, Ronan hoisted Henley to his feet, a hand wrapped under his armpit to guide him up the creaking stairs.

Ronan turned at the very last step, leering at the sight of Izaak, bound and subdued. "That little temper tantrum of yours was cute, pet" he called down, his voice heavy with sarcasm. "But playtime's over. Now, you get to lie there, nice and quiet, and contemplate all the fun things I have planned for you when your little cocktail wears off. I want you to feel every second.”

----

Taglists!:

Henley taglist: @livelaughwhump @kira-the-whump-enthusiast @sorrowful-hyacinth

Ronan taglist: @kira-the-whump-enthusiast

Izaak taglist: @emmettland @kira-the-whump-enthusiast @sorrowful-hyacinth @whumpsoda

Drabble taglist (which I forgot existed and have recently rediscovered assdfghjkl so will be using from now on unless you would like off it <3 ): @whatwasmyprevioususername @whumpsday @sparrowsage @whumperfully @wolves-and-winters @canislycaon24 @happy-little-sadist @darkthingshappen @whumping-in-the-dark @vagabouund @turn-the-tables-on-them

[oddsconvert]

Requested snippet/drabble of this lil post/prompt I did 😊:

Drabble tag list: @sparrowsage @whatwasmyprevioususername @whumpsday

CW: Creepy/Intimate Whumper, Defiant Whumpee (kinda?), Non-con kiss, Broken bones, Restraints, Swearing, Implied captivity

-

“Get the hell off me!”

They weren’t going down without a fight; twisting and thrashing wildly underneath Whumper’s crushing weight pressing against them. Trying anything in their arsenal to buck them off and scramble away to safety. Well… whatever glimpse of ‘safety’ could be reached with Whumper in tow.

But for now they were completely cornered, slammed repeatedly into the wall and choking on winded breaths caught in their lungs. Crying out with each forceful shove. When the fleeting opportunity presented itself in between, Whumpee fought to desperately suck in precious breaths instead of pathetic wheezes, though every attempt was cut short when they found themselves painfully thrusted into the bricks again. Jagged corners of stone cutting into shoulder blades, slicing into the skin as warm pain radiated from their battered, inflamed back. 

It didn’t matter how much Whumpee’s arms pushed against Whumper’s chest, shoving back to try and wrangle their way out - they were no match. With minimal effort, Whumper snatched their wrists and pinned them above their head, pushed into the wall. A subdued yelp squeaked out, yanking desperately to free their arms, feeling the future-bruises threatening to form.

"Looks like someone's not understanding who is in control here... I've been kind to you, Whumpee. If you're going to take that patience for granted…”, Whumper warned, digging their sharp fingernails into the tender skin on Whumpee’s wrist with a calculating grin. Eagerly watching and waiting for the wince of pain, a stray tear, or maybe to hear one of their witty remarks. Not at all disappointed, in fact, rather satisfied when they received the latter:

“You sick fu-” 

It was too quick for Whumpee’s brain to comprehend; Whumper’s lips roughly shoved onto Whumpee’s in a flash mid-sentence, taking advantage of their open mouth ready to splutter every curse under the sun and shutting them up with a squirm. Their tongue darting deep within their mouth and swirling around, intertwining with Whumpee’s. Tasting the bitter, ashy cigarettes attempted to be hidden under strong mint mouthwash; it didn’t work, instead making a foul concoction of breath. Whumpee gags, panicked chokes at the sudden disgusting intrusion. The struggling picks up, shrieking into Whumper’s mouth and legs kicking, flailing violently to push them away. A rush of adrenaline courses through Whumpee’s veins, ripping their hands out of Whumper’s and sparked with new rage; wildly lashes out to break the forced kiss. The pair's arms battle with one another for what feels like a lifetime, to force the other away, swatting at the waving, grasping hands, harshly shoving as they both struggle to stop the other. 

Until Whumpee’s hand accidentally slips…and viciously flies upwards, backhanding Whumper across the face, a perfectly formed, swollen, rosy handprint begins to imminently surface on their cheek as blood swarms to the hit. Whumper’s head snaps to the side from the sheer force of the strike, the fighting dies down immediately - both frozen in place in pure shock.

Time stopped in that moment, the clock on the wall seemed equally as frightened to tick to its next second, with all sound draining from the room till only ragged breaths remained. Neither of them dared move, the only motion was the exhausted panting of their chests - in and out, in and out until they matched in perfect synchrony. If only they could stay suspended in that moment, just wait for the world to crash and burn so they’d never have to face the inevitable wrath for their mistake.

That’s all it was: an accident. Never would they ever try to hit Whumper; repulsed by the very sight of them and wishing a gruesome death upon them? Sure. But they did not have the actual gall, nor the stupidity to whack them. Their life flashed before their eyes the second they saw their arm uncontrollably glide through the air in perfect trajectory to their cheek. 

When Whumper finally drags themself out from their thunderstruck state; frenzied, infuriated eyes glare down into horrified ones. Whumper didn’t even look human in this moment, gritting their teeth into a malicious growl, shaking with resentment and squeezing their fists until their knuckles were blinding white. 

Oh, they messed up. Bad.

Drawing back their fist and swinging immediately, the balled fist charged with anger hurled into Whumpee’s face as it sent them reeling to the ground. Stunned; their ears screech with high-pitched ringing, trying to blink the blurriness from their vision and their cheek sore and throbbing - completely vulnerable and unable to fight back. Whumper grabs their wrist again, now dragging an unresistant Whumpee towards the basement door - their body effortlessly gliding across the floor and watching the room grow further and further from view, their woozy head rolling around trying to keep it upright. 

Whumpee was thrown down the basement stairs, colliding with every single step on the way down with an agonised cry before finally landing on their already sore back at the bottom.  

“Give me your right wrist. Now.” Whumper commanded, storming down the stairs after them with an outstretched palm.  The offending hand. It was only fitting that the hand that hit Whumper took the punishment. But Whumpee clutches their hands protectively close to their chest, whimpering from the aching pain and the terror overwhelming them, any bravado melting away.

“P-Please! I didn’t mean to-!”

Whumper ignores the cries for mercy and lunges forward, ripping their wrist away from the heaving chest. This time, Whumpee doesn’t wriggle or try to break free, they remain sprawled at the bottom of the stairs and squeezing their eyes shut bracing for the pain about to ripple through them. In one quick flick, Whumper snaps Whumpee’s wrist at an impossible angle, a sickly crack ringing through the room followed by a blood-curdling wail. 

“Try and smack me with a broken wrist, you little shit-”

Whumpee’s throat closed up, silent tears tracking down their face and cradling their burning, broken wrist. They couldn’t even look at it, sick bubbled in their stomach threatening to send bile into their throat when they saw the crooked shape, bones protruding and warm bruises infesting the area. A horrific sight. And to make matters worse, Whumper charges at them with chains, wrapping them to bind Whumpee’s hands together and ignoring the reverberating screams in the room as the metal snags and singes into the broken wrist. Crippling pain sprints up and through their arm as Whumper pulls the chain, lifting Whumpee up by their bound hands and forcing them to stand on the tips of their feet. Screeching in pain, shuffling their hands within the cuffs to relieve some of the pressure on their wrist but before long they can only dangle by the broken, mangled bones when they run out of length.

“A-Accident… t’was acciden-”, Whumpee slurred, slumped over and swaying in their chains and watching tears slide off their flushed cheeks and leap onto the ground before them. Completely and utterly drained, finally submitting.

“Oh, I know it was an accident…” Whumper tugs a handful of hair and drags them in close, stumbling on their tip toes, warm breath puffing over their face as they gasp out. Whumper pulls them forward until their foreheads collide and Whumpee stifles a weak whimper, fluttering their eyes closed and trying to focus on anything other than the unbearable anguish.

“It’ll be the last one-”

[sugorokutyou6tyoume]

70 minutes drawing theme Iron

[promptlyprompting]

"You won't get away again. I'll make sure of it."

[katsumi-karisagi]

whumper that's confusing as fuck.

sickeningly sweet one moment, then cold and cruel.

whumper with mixed behavior.

soft, tender touches between lashings with the cane.

whumper manipulating, gaslighting.

whumpee that thinks this is love.

[whumblr]

Playing house

"Did you enjoy your time with them?" Whumper asked, standing behind them with his hands on their shoulders. "Playing house?"

Whumpee didn't say a thing.

"You must've known it couldn't last," Whumper pressed, softly stroking the nape of their neck, curling a finger through their hair. "And even if you refused to see reality, they must have known."

A soft sound escaped in the back of Whumpee's throat. Yes, they had enjoyed their time with the team. They had nursed them back to health, they were kind and concerned, and gave them a place with them, unconditionally. But something always nagged in the back of their mind: they didn't belong there.

Whumper sat down next to them on the couch, nudging them along to sit in his lap. Which they did, reluctantly. Gentle hands molded them to a lazy position, back resting against the armrest, legs sprawled over his.

"This is where you belong," he whispered, lips brushing their cheek. A small drop of salt caught against them and Whumpee felt a smile forming.

"They'll... they'll come back for me," they hiccupped and tilted their head away, leaning against his chest.

"Oh, darling," he said, actual sympathy in his voice. "I don't think they will." He shifted them up a little, stretching his legs out under them and pressing them higher up against his shoulder.

"You were just a stray. You weren’t a member of the team. No matter how hard you tried. Your insistence must have annoyed them so much. I know how desperate you can be. It can be... overbearing. They must be glad that you're gone." He brushed a tear away. "Now, I am very happy to have you back."

Tears now streamed silently down their trembling chin.

"It's okay. They just don't understand, baby. Did they think you were just desperate to please? To earn your place among them? Always doing whatever they said as gratitude for taking you in?"

Whumpee shook their head in denial.

Whereas Whumper just smiled above them, twisting the knife with every word he spoke. "No, you’re right. It wasn’t in gratitude, now was it? It was fear. Pure fear that they would send you away if you didn’t. Punish you if you didn’t. You may think that being away from me sets you free but… well, I think this was a valuable lesson.”

"You're the one who is playing house," Whumpee muttered darkly, the earlier words still stung.

"What was that?"

They flinched at the sudden hard shift in tone, but looked up and repeated their words. "It's true. You want me to be your puppet in your dollhouse, caught in your strings. Forcing me to do as you say, behave as you say. You can't keep me here forever."

“And who do you think will keep me from doing just that? Your band of heroes?” he sneered, his smug words turning mocking.

"They saved m--"

"They found you. Just a chance meeting snooping around my compound. And not finding anything useful, they decided to take you with them, hoping to use you, see what they could learn from you. And you gave them nothing but trouble. They won’t come back for you.”

Whumpee opened their mouth to retort the harsh words, but a single finger on their chin shut them up. His finger moved over their lips in a shushing gesture and Whumper continued in a more morose tone:

“Stealing from me and now they have the gall to return damaged goods.”

“Wha—?” Whumpee looked up at those words, hurt and confused. “Damaged? What do you mean damaged? They didn’t hurt me!”

“A few weeks with them and suddenly you’re talking back.”

He shoved their legs aside and let them fall back against the couch as he roughly stood and walked across the room. “All that time and effort… and now I have to start all over again.” He rummaged about and when he turned, Whumpee froze when they saw he was holding a whip.

“But we both know we’ll get back to where we were…” He let the tip of the whip fall to the ground. “Easily.”

-

Tag: @firewheeesky @myfriendcallsmeasickwoman19 @hold-back-on-the-comfort @whumpawink @painsandconfusion

[whump-slump]

"My hope was that you would submit to me willingly, that you would love me enough to allow me to use you as I saw fit.

Of course you would still cry and beg for me to stop. But in the end, you would trust me enough to know that I would never do anything to hurt you permanently. That everything I do to you is out of love.

We'll get to that point someday, sweetheart. I promise. But in the meantime, I'm happy to take you by force."

[whumpshaped]

“You’re in trouble”

“Huh? Why?”

“Why shouldn’t you be?”

"You're in trouble."

"Huh? Why?"

"Why shouldn't you be?"

Whumpee sucked in a breath, thought of all the shit they'd done even just that day, and nodded. "So you know."

Whumper's eyebrow shot up. "So you did do something."

"Wait, I thought you knew—"

"No, no. I'll hear you out. What are you in trouble for?"

[for-the-ouchies]

So I've previously made ask games for whumpee (1) (2) (3) and now I'm thinking about making one for our whumpers. Going to write down the first 30 questions that come to mind...

What is your earliest memory?

Why do you think you turned out the way you did?

Is there something wrong with you?

Would you say that you have ever caused serious harm to a person? (Is there someone who doesn't count as a person?)

Do you consider yourself a regular person? Or are you extraordinary?

Look at the harm you have done. Look at the good. Which outweighs the other?

Do you have to lie about what you've done? Do you wish you wouldn't?

Does anyone really know the real you?

What is your relationship to (whumpee)?

Tell me about (your first whumpee).

Do you love (whumpee)?

Do you hate (whumpee)?

Is there anyone else you hate? Why?

Have you ever been disgusted by yourself?

Do you have a choice in what you do?

Do you enjoy it?

Tell me about a moment in which you felt fully in control.

Tell me about a moment in which you lost control.

Is being in charge important to you? What makes you in particular suited (or unsuited) to it?

Have you ever feared for your life?

Do you think there will be consequences for what you have done / are doing to (whumpee)?

Be honest- do you think you deserve better, or worse?

If someone close to you knew everything, could they forgive you?

Is there anyone who truly cares for you, not just because they can use or fear you?

Are you feared? How do you feel about your answer?

Is (whumpee) supposed to be afraid of you? To what degree?

Is there someone you are afraid of, and is it someone you have to obey?

Tell me of your enemies.

What is your ultimate goal?

What was your happiest moment?

[whump-bunny]

Something underutilized in the whump space is Whumpee getting abruptly cut off from necessary medications that you should ABSOLUTELY NOT stop taking cold turkey.

Either Whumper takes away Whumpee's drugs as punishment or they just didn't know Whumpee was on any medication before kidnapping them. Either way, Whumpee is going to experience withdrawal, as well as whatever issues their medication was fixing.

[for-the-ouchies]

TYSM for the ask. I have some questions for Sev if you don't mind. ( ᵔ ⩊ ᵔ )

7. Tell me about someone you hate.

9. Loneliness is hard to bear. How many people do you frequently spend time with? Do any of them care about you?

10. Would you be good at managing / surviving on your own?

- @whump-slump

Thank you. <3 And I'm always delighted by questions for Sev.

7. “Hate?” he echoes, surprised. He shakes his head. “No, I wouldn't. I... I don't think I could ever bring myself to... to hate someone. It's like anger, but... worse.” Something occurs to him, then- “Canna said I'm too broken to hate her. So that might be why? ...But I don't think I hated anyone before, either...”

9. A nod. “It is hard. ...Haven't kept count. Canna's assistants are here sometimes? Mainly Delslit... and Telnu? I think? And Canna is here every day. I think... no. I am sure that Canna cares about me. I'm hers, and she has put a lot of time and effort into making me.”

10. Again, he is surprised. This time, he gives a huff that could almost be a laugh. “I would die within days.”

[zombies-sold-cheap]

edit I made for the real ones

[whump-slump]

Hello. I see you reblogged something from me. :)

3. (Don't you want it all to be over?), 8. (Does anyone love you? Could anyone, ever?), and 18. (Have you ever truly been free? (Does such a thing even exist?)) for Milena|Mimi.

- @for-the-ouchies

(Mimi is 5 years into her captivity)

3. "Every night I go to sleep hoping to never wake up. I'm so tired of fighting, of hurting, I just want to rest."

8. "My Mistress loves me and so did my family. I just wish their love didn't mean submission.

When I was a child, I used to dream about a Prince coming to rescue me. That someone would see my virtue, my perseverance, and love me for it.

I was so stupid.

No one will ever love me for my diligence or kindness, no one cares. I am only loved for how I cry and grovel. For how I scream and whimper. For how easy it is to shove me to the floor. For how stupid and gullible I am. For how easily I give in."

18. "The only time I was truly free was when I ran away from home. The adrenaline rush of realizing you can do anything, quickly gives way to the realization that you're helpless. True freedom means being at your most vulnerable. A stronger, more clever person might've thrived in such an environment. I was not that person."

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

AN: TYSM FOR THE ASK!!!!!! I love all ur posts (≧◡≦) ♡

[for-the-ouchies]

A few asks for whumpees. :)

How long have you been here / being doing this for?

Aren't you tired?

Don't you want it all to be over?

What if it never ends?

Do you have a plan to get out / get away?

Would you trade places with someone else, if you could? Anyone specific?

Tell me about someone you hate.

Does anyone love you? Could anyone, ever?

Loneliness is hard to bear. How many people do you frequently spend time with? Do any of them care about you?

Would you be good at managing / surviving on your own?

Do you consider yourself a survivor?

Do you consider yourself a victim?

Do you consider yourself broken? Do others consider you so?

Are you well acquainted with failure? What happens when you fail?

What is something you'd like to succeed at?

Do you carry much responsibility on your shoulders? Or very little? Somewhere in-between?

If you disappeared, what do you think would happen to everything you leave behind?

Have you ever truly been free? (Does such a thing even exist?)

When was the last time you did something entirely for yourself?

Would you give yourself up for others? Anyone specific?

[whump-slump]

"My hope was that you would submit to me willingly, that you would love me enough to allow me to use you as I saw fit.

Of course you would still cry and beg for me to stop. But in the end, you would trust me enough to know that I would never do anything to hurt you permanently. That everything I do to you is out of love.

We'll get to that point someday, sweetheart. I promise. But in the meantime, I'm happy to take you by force."