Whumpblr - Blog Posts

Lilith watched gleefully. She had been waiting for this moment for so long. The stupid hero who had been tormenting Lilith's band of mercenaries and assassins. Amelia was finally under her control, and she could do whatever she wanted to her.

Of course, she wouldn't actually do it herself. That was beneath her. Instead, she watched as her second in command, Carson, tortured the annoying girl.

Lilith laughed as Amelia screamed. When she plead for mercy, and Carson looked to Lilith, she just shook her head. When Amelia passed out, Lilith motioned for people to revive her. When the sun crept lower on the horizon, making the clearing dark, Lilith finally sighed and allowed several people to lock Amelia up for the night.

They would resume in the morning.

... ... ... ... ...

Amelia couldn't believe how stupid she had been. She could have kicked herself as she was dragged into the camp, except for the fact that her feet were bound tightly together.

She looked away when she saw Carson's face. The horror was well hidden behind his eyes, but they both knew what would come next. They both knew that they couldn't blow his cover. Which meant, they both knew it had to be done well.

And he did. For hours, Amelia was chained to a tree while Carson - her Carson - tortured her. She couldn't look at him while he yelled at her. She bit her lip when he whipped her. She looked away when she screamed as he cut into her.

She met his eyes only once. She lifted her head groggily when she heard Lilith shouting something. Carson hit her again at Lilith's urging, and Amelia moaned in pain. Carson flinched, but thankfully, his back was to Lilith and Amelia was the only one to see. She looked at him, meeting his eyes and giving an almost imperceptible nod.

When he hit her again, she finally fell limp, blackness claiming her.

... ... ... ... ...

Carson hated himself. When they dragged Amelia into the camp, bruised and bloodied, he had thought she was dead. When she moved and saw him, they both knew the moment when they realized it would have been better if she had been.

Carson floated through the day in a daze. He retreated into himself while he hurt Amelia, the one thing he had sworn to never do. The only time he snapped free and realized what he was doing was when she let out a moan. They had looked at each other, and he had known that he had to keep going.

He had to get her out. When most of the camp was asleep, he sneaked into the tent where Amelia was kept and cut her loose.

Carson shook her desperately until she stirred. He handed her his knife and spirited her away to the edge of the forest. She was barely awake, but she managed to rasp out, "What about you?"

He shook his head. "I'll be fine. They won't know."

They both knew that wasn't true. Amelia resisted, but finally Carson convinced her to leave him, agreeing that it was time to pull him out.

... ... ... ... ...

A week later, Amelia arrived back at camp with a team to extract Carson, only to find out that he was gone.

ohhh we love a good “forced to torture your friend while undercover as a bad guy” don’t we

like. when you meet their eyes and you both know you have to do it and you have to do it well

Keira frowned. "Has anyone seen Cooper?"

The rest of the group looked around and shook their heads.

Callie spoke up. "Last I saw, he was right behind us."

Keira turned and looked down the tunnel where they had come from. The group was quiet for a minute. They couldn't go back. They didn't have time.

Finally, Keira made a decision. "Go on without me. I'll find him and wait here for you to come back."

"But-," John tried to argue, but Keira just shook her head.

"He could be hurt. What if he got hit in the crossfire when we busted in here? I know he said he was fine, but what if he's not? By the time we come back this way, he could be..." Keira didn't finish the sentence. She shook her head. "I'm going back."

She handed off her extra supplies and hurried back down the tunnel. She didn't dare call out for Cooper, just in case there was still and enemy lurking in the shadows.

It took her almost ten minutes before she stumbled over Cooper, sitting in the middle of the tunnel.

He looked up groggily. "Hi."

Keira knelt in front of him. "What happened? You were behind us, and then you weren't!"

Cooper looked around. "I sat down."

Keira grabbed his shoulders, looking over him quickly. His eyes were glassy and vacant, skin pale. She started tugging his jacket open, searching for a wound.

His shirt underneath was soaked with blood, and Keira winced when she saw it. As she pulled it away from his skin, inspecting his torso, he suddenly slumped forward.

Keira grunted in surprise, laying him down. This wasn't good. She worked feverishly over him for a full half hour, trying to staunch the blood flow from the gunshot wound in his side.

By the time the rest of the group came back through the tunnel, it was too late.

There’s something about a whumpee just sitting down. Not fainting, necessarily. Maybe they’re just about to faint, and they quietly just kneel on the ground at a time and place that doesn’t make sense. They don’t even have the capacity or willingness to articulate why they need to abruptly stop and sit. Maybe they’re catatonic while the others look at them.

Maybe a caretaker can see the dull, vacant look in their eyes and immediately senses that something is seriously wrong. Maybe the fainting comes just a few moments later.

Subject #1 :

Chapter one

Contents: Lab whump, kidnapping, defiant whumpee, clueless whumper, role reversal (sorta), knockout gas, swearing, caged whumpee

----

Max’s head throbbed. He tiredly reached his arm up to rub his eye, groggily opening the other. He stopped, dumbstruck. This wasn’t his room… 

The sight of bars greeted him, no further than 20cm away from his sitting figure. Past the bars, a large, sterile looking facility greeted him. The walls were all bare white, but a labyrinth of tables stretched the rest of the room, almost every surface covered with brightly coloured vials, scratchily written notes and mindlessly discarded needles. 

Fear began to weigh down his stomach. Where was he? What had happened? He backed up to the end of the cage he was in, only managing to shuffle back about a step before he felt his back hit the cold metal bars on the other side.

“Oh you’re awake!” Max turned around and sprung to the other end of the cage, back now facing the lab. The man now stood, looking down on the cage. He was unable to make out a lot of details from the angle he was sitting, only able to distinguish the vague silhouette of a lab coat. 

His face was slightly more clear, an innocent looking curious expression in his wide brown eyes. He had scruffy mid length black hair that looked poorly looked after and greasy. He’d tried to tie it into a low ponytail, but large chunks of his too short hair had fallen out and over his face messily, and there was an excitable, childish grin on his round face. 

Max stared at him in disbelief. 

“Who the fuck are you?” He asked, his voice hoarse 

“Please, language. I don’t tolerate that kind of language in my lab.” He paused for a second, making uncomfortable eye contact with Max. “My name is Doug Gillen. I’m a scientist. Do you have any questions?” Max, who was trying and failing to properly collect himself, snapped back into speech, ignoring the strangely matter of fact way his captor spoke.

“Yes, actually, I do. First of all, What the fuck? What the fuck is going on? Where the fuck am I? What the fuck is-” Doug cut him off.

“Please, please, mind your language. I really don’t appreciate swearing. To answer your question, you’re in my lab. I needed a test subject, and you fit the bill perfectly. No longer close to family, drifting away from friends, no one will think much of you disappearing.” He adjusted his glasses “Anyways, we should probably get to -”

“No. No no no. You can’t- no. No. You kidnapped me? Oh fuck oh fuck oh fu-”

“What did I just tell you about language?” Doug paused for a second, narrowing his eyes slightly. “Anyways, I’d like to ask you a few questions now, if that’s okay.” He looked at Max for a second, not waiting for a reply before continuing. “What’s your full name? Even in all the time I was scoping you out as a potential test subject, you never brought up your full name. I’m curious, Max. What is it?” 

The sound of his name coming from the mouth of his kidnapper sent a chill down his spine. 

“You-stalked me!? You-you.” Max paused for a second to compose himself. “No, I’m not telling you. I’m never telling you anything. His voice was laced with venom. Doug tilted his head, seeming genuinely confused.

“Why not? I’m not asking for much here.” 

Max stared at the figure in front of him with a mixture of disbelief and disgust.

“Why not!? You’re asking me why I don’t want to give information to my kidnapper!? If you think for a single fucking-”

“-Language-”

“‘Second that I’m going to comply with you, you must be insane. Hell, you probably are! I mean, no one sane would just fucking kidnap someone and-”

“Max.” Doug kneeled down to meet him at eye level. Quieten down for a second. Let me speak.” Max stared daggers at him, but stayed quiet. “Good. Now, I’ve got a proper cell for you. You’re the first human guest that-” Max quickly began to say something but was quickly drowned out by Doug, who just continued to speak. “So if it's a little different to what you expect I apologize. Anyways, I’m just gonna let you out of your cage and lead you there.”

 Max looked up at the last sentence. He’s just gonna let me go loose? Doug was still speaking, but Max was no longer paying attention. This might be the only chance I get. He blinked, noticing Doug’s expectant stare. “Well?”

“Yeah, okay.” Max had no idea what he’d just agreed to, but Doug seemed satisfied. He reached into one of his lab coat pockets, pulling out a small key and beginning to fiddle with the lock. 

Max took another look around the lab.There was a door, about 20m to his left. The lock finally clicked open, and Doug opened the hatch in the side, eyes gleaming with excitement. Max quickly scrambled out of the cage, ignoring the aching in both his legs as he stood, handcuffs immediately clicking onto his wrists, Doug taking a firm hold of the metal. 

The first thing Max noticed when he stood was Doug’s height. It had been hard to tell earlier, from where he was sitting, but he was short. Max wasn’t a super tall guy, maybe around 5’10, but he stood almost a foot taller than the scientist. 

Max blinked. 

Doug was just stood there, loosely holding the middle of the handcuffs with one hand, and fiddling with the keys with his other. 

Max yanked his arms quickly away from Doug, who, not expecting it, let go of the handcuffs for a second, quickly snatching them back, using his free hand to pick a small spray bottle out of one of his oversized lab coat pockets and spraying his face with a bit of water. Did… did he really try to use a spray bottle to punish me? Like a cat? Max felt more and more confused the longer this situation continued. Max looked down at Doug, who was now trying to shove the spray bottle back into one of his many bulging pockets, clearly filled to the brim with things he didn’t need. 

Max looked down at his handcuffs again. This scrawny, clearly deficient in some vitamins, scientist seemed to have no sense of self preservation. He claimed to know about Max, but still seemed entirely unfazed being entirely undefended infront of someone whose biggest hobby was boxing. 

He knew he couldn’t fight like he normally would, not with the handcuffs, so he clasped his hands together, slowly bringing them up. He almost felt bad, this Doug person seemed harmless enough, but- 

No. He kidnapped me. He stalked me. He deserves this.

Max clobbered him around the side of the face, the hard metal handcuffs striking his unprepared face painfully. Doug lurched back, a pained squeak coming out of his mouth as he felt his now bloodied cheek. He looked back up at Max, pleadingly, with fear in his wide, innocent eyes. Max had to shake away any sympathy. He kidnapped me! He stalked me! He raised his hands again, swinging again. 

And again

And again

He kidnapped me!

And again

He stalked me!

And again

Doug was on the floor by now, his face a bloodied mess, his hands weakly raised in a pathetic attempt to keep Max away. Small, cracked whimpers escaped his broken lips, but he wasn’t able to speak anymore. Max continued to pummel him, all empathy for this guileless man replaced by pure blind fury. 

He noticed, between strikes, that Doug was trying to reach back towards one of his pockets, trying to pull something out, but being thrown off with every punch. It took him a few tries, but he eventually managed to grab the item firmly enough to pull it out. A gas mask?

 Realisation dawned upon Max, and he sprang up, rushing towards the door. 

Too late.

 A faint hissing sound was audible from somewhere above him.

No no no no no no no

He covered his mouth and nose with his hoodie sleeve. It didn’t help. The walls seemed to sway as he stumbled to the door, falling forwards and catching himself on the locked door handle.

His head was spinning

Spinning

Max couldn’t stay upright. Even while holding onto the door handle, he couldn’t help himself from slipping, falling onto the floor. The walls kept spinning around him, his eyelids struggling to stay open

No no no no no no

I was…

I was so…

So close…

----

So this is the first time I'm ever posting my writing anywhere, and while its not my best work, I've decided that I need to try to post it anyways, because if I don't now, who knows when I will.

desperately need more stereotypically noncon whump tropes used in completely nonsexual whump scenes

weeks after being rescued whumpee finds a video of their torture on the darknet with millions of views and sickening comments

whumpee worrying/thinking that whumper is right about that whumpee being high on the pain means whumpee likes what whumper is doing to them

whumpee who is fine otherwise until someone does something relatively mild that whumpee associates with the whump. whumpee getting instant flashbacks and being reduced to a shell of themselves for the time being / pales immediately, not getting out a single word, completely frozen like a deer in headlights

rescued whumpee worrying that everyone who interacts with them secretly harbors the desire to hurt whumpee for their own enjoyment. that no one can see them as human, that everyone sees them as just a punching bag

whumpee who freezes with wide eyes at the slightest sign of violence against them

whumpee who is incredibly embarrassed about what whumper did to them

"it's your fault you look so punchable" / whumper victim blaming whumpee

whumpee being scared caretaker might drop their act and behave like whumper

fighting god's hardest fight right now- do not write whump do not write whump don'tdoityoucanresist

woah guys AO3 is open who did- who did that am I right

why is there a new fic opened!! Who did that!!

It's Beginning to Look A Lot Like Whumpmas~ 🎄 🎁

It's getting cold everyone and I'm starting to feel festive! So how about we turn this thing around and I share some lovely and sadistic prompts? Have fun everyone! <3

~~~~~~~♡~~~~~~~~~~~♡~~~~~~~~~~♡~~~~~~~~~~~♡~~~~~~~~~》

◇ Humming a nice little holiday song while walking through whumpee's house with a knife, searching where they hid again.. A big smile on their face. "You better watch out, you better not cry, you better not pout, I'm telling you why.. Santa Claus is coming to town."

◇ Whumpee kneeling on the plush red carpet.. It used to be white, just this morning.

◇ Whumpee choking on a pretty long candy cane

◇ Dressing a boy who isn't very into femme things in a very cute and slightly revealing elf outfit for women

◇ A Whumpee who usually loved Christmas always being tortured to the sound of their favourite Christmas music

◇ Whumper making a nice little show out of Whumpee picking his torture method. A bunch of things wrapped nicely, in boxes under a tree. They'll have to endure all, but they can choose and unwrap them, bound in a way that they can barely use their hands. Too tired to use this thing against whumper.

◇ Some sweet hypothermia, Whumpee slowly becoming a snowman as they're chained up against the back wall of the house, out in the blistering cold. Bonus points for White Christmas playing from inside the house. ;)

◇ A yandere Whumper having Whumpee bound and gagged next to them near the piano as they play All I Want For Christmas Is You, singing to them.

Let me know if you like these! I'd love to have some feedback and if you have any suggestions or requests, feel free to drop them in the ask box on top! I do sweet comfort, whump, and generally completely random things out of the blue. I do anything. Just not really fandom based things. 👋 Buhbye!

16th hour — #2 Marked

Masterlist/ Previous

CW: themes of captivity, violence, sexual assault(not detailed) , and dehumanization.

Samuel's consciousness flickered like a sputtering candle as he awoke in the dim, grim confines of the transport truck. His limbs felt leaden, the remnants of the sedative dulling his senses. The air was thick with a pungent mix of sweat and despair.

He wasn't alone. As his vision cleared, he saw others huddled in the cramped space, their faces reflecting the same horror and helplessness that he felt.

A stifled sob drew Samuel's attention to a girl about his age, her shoulders shaking with each breath. Her eyes were red and swollen, tears carving tracks down her grimy freckled cheeks. Across from her, a boy thrashed against his cuffs, his voice a raw scream of defiance and fury.

"Fuck this! Let me out, you bastards! You can't do this to us! We're people, not animals!" His words bounced off the metal walls, unanswered.

"You fucking bastards! Let me out! Let me out!" His shoulders pounded against the walls of the truck, the sound echoing in the confined space. "I'll kill you! I'll fucking kill you all!"

In the opposite corner, another boy had a girl pinned against the side of the truck, his intentions horrifyingly clear. Her terrified whimpers and pleas for mercy filled the air. He wanted to move, to stop the atrocity, but his limbs felt like lead, the sedative still dulling his reflexes.

"N-No, please... don't..." she begged, her voice breaking.

The boy's eyes were wild, filled with a mix of panic and desire. "Shut up! We're nothing now anyways. Might as well enjoy myself for the last time."

Samuel's stomach churned with a mix of fear and revulsion. He forced himself to move, his voice a raspy whisper. "Don't."

The boy turned his head towards Samuel, his eyes narrowing in anger. "Stay out of this pretty boy."

The girl looked desperately at Samuel, tears going down her eyes. Desperation fueled his movements. He stumbled forward, his body protesting every step. He threw himself at the big-bodied boy, their bodies colliding in a tangle of limbs. They hit the floor hard, the impact jarring Samuel's already aching side.

The boy looked like he was about to punch Samuel if only his hands weren't cuffed behind him. The attacker snarled, his hands closing around Samuel's throat. "You should have stayed out of it, hero." His grip tightened, cutting off Samuel's air. Spots danced in his vision as he struggled, his hands clawing at the man's wrists.

Just when the other boy could take any other action, the truck lurched to a stop, throwing everyone off balance.

The doors swung open, blinding light flooding the space. Uniformed men began pulling the captives out one by one, their expressions devoid of compassion. The girl that was about to almost get raped by the boy mouthed a thank you though it seemed broken.

The outside world was a stark contrast to the darkness of the truck. They were in a large, enclosed compound, the high fences topped with barbed wire. The air was thick with the cries and shouts of other captives, a symphony of suffering.

He was lined up with the others, their fates hanging by a fragile thread. The compound was a cacophony of fear and confusion. Captives of all ages and backgrounds milled about, their expressions a mix of shock, anger, and hopelessness. The sobs of "I don't deserve to be here." and lifeless voices of "Why am I here...?"had filled the room.

A stern-looking man in a uniform walked down the line, his cold eyes assessing each captive with dispassionate precision. He was flanked by guards, their expressions as hard and unforgiving as the concrete beneath their feet.

"Why are you doing this to us?!!" A guy demanded, her voice shaking from anger and fear. "YOU CAN'T DO THIS TO US!!"

Somehow seeing this rose up the voices of other people, as they tried pushing and breaking the cuffs behind them. The middle-aged man simply hummed, before swishing his hand to a guard.

The uniformed man smiled looking over at the clipboard in his hand, but the smile was a cruel, empty expression. "You're 'L,'" he said, his tone filled with proffesionality.

Before he could respond, a guard stepped forward, a branding iron in his hand, its tip glowing red-hot. The boy screamed as the iron seared his flesh, the stench of burning skin filling the air. His cries echoed through the compound, a harrowing reminder of their new reality. The guy buckled to his knees with small sobs, unable to hold his weight any longer as some officers dragged him away. The branding had left a cruel "L" on his shoulder, marking him less than human.

The other captives recoiled in horror, the entire place filling with uncomfortable silence. Some were weeping openly, others staring in stunned silence. Samuel's heart pounded in his chest, his breath coming in short, panicked gasps. He knew his turn was coming, and the thought of that searing pain made his stomach churn with dread.

After a few torturing hours, his legs were basically throbbing with pain from standing for too long. The line had been going on, with the man marking with certain people as "L", "B" or "S", which was followed with agonizing screaming and crying that managed to send a flinch down Samuel's spine every time. He tried thinking about what they could've meant but every time he was interrupted by either shouting or the cracking of a taser when people became too violent.

"Step forward," the guard commanded, his eyes locking onto Samuel.

Samuel's legs felt like they were filled with lead, but he forced himself to move. He stumbled forward, his entire body trembling. The guard with the branding iron stepped up, the heat radiating from the iron making Samuel's skin prickle. The stout man looked at Samuel, and was just about to say something before Samuel cut him off.

"Can I ask something?" He blubbered out before he mentally slapped himself for thinking without speaking. The man only raised his eyebrow in question and signed his hand in a way as if to say 'go on.'

"I-Its just.. I-I thought the ones who were classified as livestock w-were the ones who were from lower class.." Samuel couldn't help but think how egoistic he must've sounded but right now that was the least of his worries.

"Samuel. Samuel Dawson. Son of Edward Dawson and Juli Wood. Mother passed away on your birth so your Father married Camila Fletcher. Your mother was classified as livestock." Samuel basically froze, his mind struggling to process what the man just said. He had been livestock by birth..?

The man simply smiled at Samuel, continuing with his now torturing claims. "Spotted many a time taking pity on livestock. Having arguments about livestock having rights. Secret letters to the government as well to consider dropping down the livestock system. My, my Mr. Dawson. And you ask why you're livestock."

The man laughed, though Samuel didn't think it was funny. "We cannot have anyone disrupting our system. It is the way it is and it will be as so in the future as well."

Before he could react, the man nodded and the guard pressed the branding iron against Samuel's shoulder. The pain was instantaneous and excruciating, a fiery agony that made him scream until his voice was raw. His vision blurred with tears, the world narrowing to the searing torment and the smell of his own burning flesh.

When the iron was pulled away, Samuel collapsed to his knees, gasping for breath. He was dimly aware of the others being branded, their screams mingling with his own. The agony in his shoulder was overwhelming, a constant, burning reminder of his new status. He looked at his shoulder, and the disgusting sight of broken flesh and blood among a red covered "L" made him want to puke.

Just when he thought it was over, the man in the uniform frowned, looking at the mark on Samuel's shoulder. He gestured to another guard, who approached with a different branding iron, this one marked with an "S".

"No no nononno!!" Samuel tried backing away. What the fuck was going on?! He already got branded! Fuck he can't do this again!!

"There's been a mistake," the man said, his voice devoid of any hint of apology or compassion. "You're not an 'L.' You're a 'S'."

Samuel barely had time to comprehend the words before the second branding iron was heated. Unlike the first guard, this one moved more methodically, examining Samuel's shoulder for a spot not marred by the initial brand.

Before Samuel could react, the second branding iron pressed against a fresh part of his shoulder, the tip glowing with the same cruel heat. The second iron seared into his flesh with a new level of agony, the pain even more unbearable as the two brands burned into his skin. He screamed again, the sound raw and primal, tears streaming down his face as he felt his consciousness waver.

Samuel's vision swam with spots, the pain overwhelming his senses. When the iron was finally removed, he collapsed completely, his body unable to take any more. His mind drifted in and out of consciousness, snippets of conversation filtering through the haze of pain.

"Get him to the holding for 'S' class." He heard someone say, but he couldn't see who it was. The words were getting more distant or was it the people who were? There was a strange ringing in his ears and he could feel something cold dripping down his arm. He tried to lift his head, to see who was speaking, but his body felt heavy and unresponsive.

The coldness spread through his veins, numbing the agony, but leaving him disoriented and weak.

Samuel's breath came in shallow gasps, his chest rising and falling with effort. His eyelids grew heavy, the world tilting dangerously around him. The voices of the guards and the other captives melted into a distant murmur, fading into the background like an elusive dream.

And then, with a final, desperate attempt to stay conscious, Samuel succumbed to the overwhelming exhaustion and pain. His body slumped forward, darkness swallowing him whole.

He had always been scared of the dark but this time he felt comfort in it. As if it was keeping it away from the troubles that seemed to keep mounting up on him.

Taglist: @anutz1234 @ash-reh @whumped-by-glitter @catnykit @morning-star-whump

@paperprinxe @octopus-reactivated @whumpdemonium @watermelons-dont-grow-on-trees @noeul-whumpppss

@nuriiz134 @fox-fox234 @carosbee @writingphoenix @carolinethedragon

@birch-pictures@fable-bug-real @possumhoe @evagran @somebody327

@someoneoninternettt @classyanchorlove @kiratheperson @boahamcock @pyromaiow

@imarandomgamer @edward-mybeloved @skribl @aleki-lives-here @roskarovio

@pentagramstars @ossknsma @abbyreader23 @cluelesscameraman @alphabet-egg

@whumpifi @cheesemctoastnuggets @deputydeputyp @thelazywitchphotographer @isntthisblank

@demetercabingreen-thumb @noeul-whumpppssssss1234(let me know if you want to be added or removed <3)

Reblogs are appreciated :)

Pet whump tropes!

Whenever whumpee is freaking out because of something, the only way to calm them down is by saying they're a good pet and patting their head.

Caretaker desperately trying to tell them that they're not a pet, that they don't need to be good, but Whumpee just isn't having it.

Definitely had a breakdown about how they think they're a bad pet, they're clawing, sobbing, on their knees, begging to be told they're a good pet, maybe even lifting caretakers hand to pet their own head, trying to convince them that they're a good pet.

Ties their hoodies super tight because they need the feeling of a collar, even though they have scars from their last one, they need it because they don't know what else to do.

Whenever they mess up, they bash their head against their fist, or scratch at their skin till blood draws, etc.

Whumpee running into Whimper and is told they're a bad pet, and Whumpee spirals.

Caretaker snapping at them one time, and saying they're a bad pet, even though they're desperately trying to break that mentality, and Whumpee just goes silent, stone cold. They drop to their knees, begging for forgiveness, maybe they're even rolling around, gripping, pulling their hair.

🚨THE ONES FOLLOWING THIS MAY BE TRIGGERING TO SOME PEOPLE, THE PROMPTS BELOW HINT AT SA, STARVATION TACTICS, AND INCLUDE DISORDERED BODY IMAGES!!!🚨

Whumpee gaining weight or something about them is off, maybe they have a pimple or their nails aren't clean, something minuscule, but they rush out of the room, dropping to their knees and sobbing, begging for forgiveness, saying they'll fix it, and caretaker is just confused.

Whumpee scarfing down whatever food they get because they're worried about being a bad pet and not getting food.

Caretaker (romantic) thought Whumpee was better, or pretty much better, so they take it a step further, making out, stuff like that, and Whumpee hates every second, but they're terrified of saying no, but halfway through they just start sobbing, apologizing and begging caretaker to stop, who does, immediately.

Backtracking off of the last one, maybe Whumpee has some serious scarring in those areas because of Whumper, so when they get to that point, Whumpee has to warn Caretaker, but when they see it all, they just kinda cry and hold onto Whumpee.

Whumpee spending hours in front of the mirror, searching for pimples, weight gain, body hair, literally any imperfections and getting rid of it because they need to be the perfect pet.

Whumpee is having a hard day and is currently sobbing or something, so caretaker is carrying them to bed, or maybe they just grab their shoulder, but Whumpee freaks out, hysterical, rolling on the floor, begging not to make Whumpee do that stuff again.

Caretaker having a bit of a rough day, so Whumpee thinks it's their job to make them feel better, so they take off their clothes, silently crying, and caretaker has never been more confused in their life.

anybody else have that one person who they wish gets everything they've ever wanted and finds someone who will make them the happiest ever but gets upset because you realize it won't be you?

no…? Just me? …okay