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hurtmyfavsthanks · 2 months

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Febuwhump Day 17: Hostage

Content warning: young whumpee/caretaker. They're not meant to be minors, but could easily be read as such

This is a sequel to THIS. This could work as a standalone however.

Whumper had been doing their job long enough to learn that going for the mark directly was a waste of time. It was like trying to catch a fish by hand. A massive, frustrating waste of time, because a fish in the water would always outspeed a clumsy human.

Any catch worth Whumper’s time would be protected. The secret lovers of celebrities, the children of millionaires, the loved ones of people in power—they were always surrounded by fencing and people who fretted over them. It was nearly impossible to catch them truly alone, and odds were even if they were alone, they were surrounded by so many cameras that it wouldn’t be worth the risk.

Whumper never went for the mark directly, cause it wasn’t worth it. Not when they could go for the bait.

Now the bait was easy to get a hold of. It wasn’t that nobody cared about the bait–if nobody cared, it wouldn’t be worth going after–but it was that nobody thought the bait was in danger. Why would they be? The friend of a friend, someone who fell under the radar, unremarkable beyond a few key relationships that gave them value. A useful nobody, one that could vanish for hours before anyone got worried.

It’s hard to force a mark out of the safety built around them. But to give them a reason to leave, to hand them the chance to be a hero?

They’ll slip themselves out of their protection and walk straight into a trap, armed with nothing but their parent’s money and a pocket knife. It was almost cute.

Whumper turned the corner, a lazy grip on the driver wheel, as they finally pulled into their latest base. It was more of a shack, really. A derelict hobble, forgotten, nestled in between unused forest land and a garbage dump. The sort of place that went weeks without being seen by a human. It’d be easy to burn and abandon, once they got the money from Caretaker’s parents.

Whumper glanced down at the hostage in question.

The kid was practically curled into a ball. Legs tucked to their chest, back pressed so hard against the door that it was like they were trying to push it open. They wouldn’t lift their eyes to look at Whumper, but they didn’t turn away either, as if they were torn between being too afraid to look and too afraid to look away.

The only restraints Whumper had put on them was to tie their hands together. It wasn’t to stop them from escaping– Whumper knew they wouldn’t run, not when they knew Whumpee was so close– but more to make sure they didn’t forget their situation. Whumper liked to keep catches scared.

Whumper parked the car. They heard Caretaker’s breath hitch as they came to a stop.

Caretaker didn’t move as Whumper got out. They sat, paralyzed with fear, as Whumper released the look to the passenger seat with the press of a button. When Whumper opened the door, Caretaker flinched back, half crawling into the driver’s seat.

Whumper gestured for them to get out. “Let’s get this over with, yeah? I might even feed you after if you’re good.”

Slowly, Caretaker untangled themselves, leaving the car with shaking legs. They pressed their back into the door, shutting it. They stayed pressed there. Whumper grabbed them by the shoulder and pushed them forward.

They guided Caretaker into the building.

The smell of mold and rot hit them like a truck as they opened the door. The whole place was beginning to rot away. Whumper resisted the urge to gag as the taste of rotting wood filled their mouth.

They’d put together their set up before they’d left. The living room was empty besides a few set items. A tall lamp, the only source of light in the room, was illuminating a single, rusted, metal chair. Finally, a camera, the only thing that looked worth any sort of money, stood ready to catch every moment.

It was a basic set up, rudimentary even, and that’s how Whumper wanted it. Whumper found that people feared the amateur more than the professional

Whumper gestured towards the chair, and Caretaker’s eyes flicked towards it anxiously.

“Come on, don’t get cold feet now,” They pulled a folded piece of paper from their pocket, their own handwriting scribbled onto it. They’d make sure to burn it once the video was done. “All you gotta do is read the paper.”

Caretaker didn’t move. They stood like a deer in the headlights, trembling. Their jaw trembled, and for a long moment, Whumper thought they were finally going to dissolve into sobs.

Instead they spoke.

“Wait. I…I wanna see Whumpee first.” Their voice was frail, trembling, like they’d lose the will to speak at any moment. And yet some of their old bravado seemed to have resurfaced.

Whumper raised an eyebrow. “I’m sure you do. And?”

They hunched their shoulders, shrinking into themselves. And yet they continued. “I mean–You want me to uh, r-record a ransom video. And you said Whumpee would be safe if I listened,”They stood straighter, just barely. “It’s only fair if you…–if you let me see Whumpee, before I start. Please.”

They stood in place, eyes cast downward, fingers tangled together anxiously at their waist. And yet they were still holding their ground.

Whumer stared for a moment, considering. “You really think you’re in a position to be making demands?” They asked, voice low.

They let the question hang in the air. Caretaker froze, eyes widening like a child with their hand caught in the cookie jar. Their lips began to tremble, and when they took a stumbling step away from Whumper, they nearly tripped over the chair.

Caretaker’s mouth cracked open, an apology already on their tongue, when Whumper let their expression lighten. Whumper chuckled, deep and rumbling.

“I don’t know if you’re stupid, or brave as hell. Probably both,” Whumper shrugged, watching as Caretaker’s shoulders slumped in relief. “I respect it. Let’s visit the bait.”

Whumper turned, heading towards the dark, barren hallway that led deeper into the house. Caretaker followed them like a lost duckling.

They stopped at the door at the end of the hall. It wasn’t anything special, just a normal door they’d fitted with a single padlock. Both with no windows and only one exit, the spare room made an effective holding cell.

Whumper pulled the keys from their pocket, opening the door. They stepped aside to give Caretaker a clear view.

Whumpee was right where they’d left them. Their arms and legs were bound with duct tape. The blood on their face had long dried, staining the once white collar of their school uniform a rusty brown. The gag was still firmly in place.

Their eyes bulged when they saw Caretaker. Whumpee screamed, a wordless plea, and lurched their body forward. All they managed to do was tip themselves over, helpless and prone on the floor.

“Whumpee-!” Caretaker took a step to move forward, but a firm hand on their shoulder stopped them. Still, that didn’t stop them from leaning towards their friend as much as Whumper’s hold would allow. “Shit, you’re okay! You’re okay! Just wait and I–I’m going to get us both out–I promise!”

Whumpee only sobbed behind their gag.

Whumper knew better than to let things go on much longer. They squeezed Caretaker’s shoulder, drawing their attention. “You’ll get them out by doing what I say, remember? They stay safe as long as you follow directions.”

Caretaker finally tore their eyes from Whumpee. They met Whumper’s gaze, eyes wide and pleading. There was too much determination in that stare for Whumper’s liking. They knew they’d have to put an end to that.

“Please, just let them go! You–you want me, right? They don’t have anything to do with this!”

“Hey,” they let their tone sharpen, and every inch of Caretaker froze. Whumpee fell silent. “You already got one favor from me. You’re testing your luck.”

Caretaker’s face paled. They stammered, seemingly remembering the situation they were in. “I–I’m sorry. But please–,”

Caretaker gasped as they were yanked back, pulled out of the open doorway. Whumper slammed them against the wall, drawing a scream from their lips. Whumpee let out a muffled shout.

Whumper loomed over Caretaker, shadows darkening their features. Caretaker stared up at them with tearfilled eyes

“Do you know why Whumpee’s still alive?”

“I–”

“Because I decided to keep them alive. Because I’ve been in a good mood. And as long as I stay in a good mood, they get to stay in one piece.”

Caretaker looked ready to faint. Their breath hitched, a panicked sob tearing its way from their throat.

“And you know what puts me in a bad mood?” they leaned forward, drawing a panicked whine from Caretaker. Caretaker pressed themselves flat against the wall. “When brats think they’ve got any bargaining power with me. You understand?”

“Y-yes! Yes sir, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean–I’m sorry–,”

Whumper pulled away. They kicked the door to Whumpee’s room shut, quickly returning the lock. When they turned back to look at Caretaker, they were still pressed against the wall. Eyes wide, staring, shoulders shaking with their silent sobs.

It was a good start. Whumper knew from experience that they’d drop the hero act within a week.

Whumper grinned. “Good. Then you have something to read, don’t you?”

#in my head whumpers just a parent with their kid on a child leash #but instead of their kid it's some teen they kidnapped for money #and instead of a leash it's fear and intimidation #whumpee #caretaker #whumper #caretaker turned whumpee #kidnapping whump #febuwhump #febuwhump day 17 #febuwhump 2024

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whump-or-whatever · 1 year

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I’m all for a Whumpee who is super defiant and confident right up until Whumper finally approaches them fully and they realize just how big Whumper is. Whumper walks up close to them and Whumpee slowly raises their eyes, which get wider and wider the further they have to crane their neck. They end up having to look nearly straight up just to meet Whumper’s gaze. And Whumper just smirks as Whumpee swallows roughly and looks away nervously.

#whump #whumpee #whump prompt #whump tropes #whump scenario #whump idea #whumper #physically intimidating whumper #large whumper #small whumpee #defiant whumpee

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whumpy-wyrms · 3 months

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hey. why does he look like that. all i’m saying is that if he wanted to drink my blood i’d let him

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scratchandplaster · 4 months

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Stack The Deck - PART 13

CW: Carewhumper, non-con touching, referenced stalking/non-con bathing/nudity, gaslighting, panic attack

PART 12 ⇽ [Masterlist] ⇾ PART 14

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

All of this could be worse, Elliot had to constantly remind himself of this fact; so, so much worse.

At the very least he didn't find himself in the trunk of a Honda or a crack house bathroom, just the sparsely decorated home of Chris, being far more tidy than he'd like to give him credit for. Said man had disappeared a few minutes ago, leaving Elliot to stew in bewilderment. The spots where skin had met skin started to itch.

Focus, come on. Neither the lonely houseplant next to the TV nor the properly aligned armchair could help him; behind the bed he was placed in stood a dresser with a full ashtray on it. The sun that had so rudely woken him up before already moved on, but the window it entered through didn't budge an inch, letting the muffled sound of cars driving up and down the road flow through the glass. They were at least on the third floor.

Jump, a harsh force pulled at his stomach, now. What else would he break in the process?

The smell of vanilla and sugar let him come to a bit more, a sour taste gathering at the thought of what's next to come. Even though Elliot had no idea why he was taken again, the animal part of his brain prepared for the worst regardless; knowing this time could be dangerous in a whole different sort of way.

"Do you like pancakes?" Morris called out, looking back from the kitchen to check if this was still real, if Elliot was really with him now, "Of course you do."

Did he? Elliot wasn't so sure about it anymore, he couldn't get his next steps on track: a rescue he couldn't remember, the warm welcome, the fact that Amber was just old news - where did this suddenly come from? What do you call a joke nobody's laughing about?

Wrapped up in the hysteric circle of repetitive thoughts, his hands started to knead hills and valleys into the blanket and rewarded his already tense arm with a short sting of fire. Elliot usually avoided to, but looking down at his palms, he noticed the rough red lines of dark scab across them.

"Did I fall?" he whispered to nobody in particular.

"Yeah, I guess so. I mean, you were bleeding; your knees too. Don't you feel that?" The well-meaning hint fell on deaf ears.

Though Elliot did feel that. An all-too familiar burn started spreading its stinging tendrils out to reach his elbow first and if not appeased quickly enough, it would only grow further. On some days, it crawled up behind his eyes.

But not yet, there was still time. Finally ready to act, Elliot threw the heavy covers off his legs, which were not tied together despite the uneasy memories. He could work with that.

The cooked batter already built up bubbles, he could see it from where he was standing now, the kitchen also being the entrance area and final room to separate them from the outside world. After flipping it over to reveal a perfectly browned crust, Morris at last noticed him: "I thought of you, moving north into the wilderness to ride moose and become a park ranger or whatever. She got me good; upstate, my ass!"

Jesus Christ, what is he going on about? Elliot had read an article about brain damage some odd months ago: poor Morris probably had an aneurysm during the time they didn't see each other, and hopefully would be blessed with another one soon. This had to be it. He, for one, didn't act like a guy who got invested in a spontaneous religious awakening.

Elliot swallowed hard, interrupting the senseless yapping and looking into Morris' steam-covert face that only underlined his unsettling glassy expression: "I can't do this again. Please, I give you everything."

They faced each-other while still keeping a good distance, with the door to the hallway practically only a jump away. Elliot could make it.

"The bathroom is on your right," Morris said through a patient smile, "Freshen up a bit."

--------

Coward. Even a splash of cold water on his puffy eyes didn't soothe the lingering frustration; if this were the Olympics, he'd be awarded the golden medal for backpedaling, especially when it came to his own survival. You dumb fucking coward.

Elliot even lacked the guts to lock the bathroom door. When push comes to shove, one could bet Morris would just kick the hinges in.

Where had the time gone; the time he should have used to prepare, to take action against Morris? Not boxing, naturally, but something... anything meaningful. All that followed was well deserved, it seemed, the punishment for wasting away in his childhood bedroom and staring motionless at a wall for eight months.

The bathroom mirror gave a flash of relief as Elliot pressed his forehead against the cool glass. Think!

For the first time in a long year, he looked at his reflection. A broken man glared back through empty eyes. Single beads of water ran down his chin to be soaked up into his shirt, already damp with the stench of fear and sweat.

The shirt he wore the whole night; a shirt he did not wear yesterday, one he did not even own, meaning that Morris had to- Oh god.

Maybe he should think less, before losing the last bit of sanity.

Not that it mattered, Elliot's only goal was clear: convince Chris to leave him alone, even when he had to bear his unorthodox signs of reparation. Smile and nod and play Crazy Eights until he opens the door: old habits and such. Nothing to lose this time, he could do it!

As Elliot awkwardly stalked back to the kitchen, the stinging had already engulfed his whole left hand and throbbed with every horrid expectation. One favor Morris could do him, if this went south too, was to cut the damn thing off already. Turning around into the kitchen fully now, he was greeted by the same stupid grin that send him away. At least one of us is having fun.

Elliot was gently led to the table and forced to sit tight until the chef was gracious enough to join him; dragging his chair to position it opposite to his guest. A stack of warm pancakes was placed carefully in front of both; they didn't look half bad.

So this was the apology breakfast then.

"Here you go, Ell!"

The cutlery slid right next to the plate and with Chris closer than ever before, Elliot could feel his body heat on his face. By reflex, his head curled down to make himself as small as possible, as if mesmerized by the pancakes he was blankly staring at.

"Say when." A thin stream of sticky maple started to coat them: the apology syrup, surely.

He would have appreciated all the effort in a different context, but with his sweaty right clenched around the butter knife, any sense of domestic bliss was lost.

Elliot felt his mouth go dry in anticipation; bile already collecting further.

None of them had noticed how heavy their breathing went, so Morris decided to be more brisk and let the hand he had positioned so innocently on the backrest slip down the small of Elliot's neck.

This is the apology- the-the apology...

The touch of rough fingers against his sensitive skin made Elliot shudder violently and writhe away from the contact. Even though that wasn't a "when", the steady drizzle of syrup stopped in its flow.

Letting his hand wander even further down to dip under his collar and between his shoulder blades, Chris too was mesmerized. His skin felt pleasantly warm to the touch; stroking back and forth, up and down to soothe his boy who was nearly losing it again. So tense.

He knew it only got worse the longer this medicine he demanded was held back, so why not enjoy the last calm moments for a while. Brushing the peach fuzz at the base of his hairline awarded Chris a low whine. So pretty.

His left arm was sore by now and already cooking up a storm, Elliot could feel it.

Morris felt glad his guest was deadly focused on the meal he made them, otherwise his bright red face would only prove how excited he was getting.

He hadn't missed how much longer Elliot's hair had grown, still happy that he managed to wash it last night. Speaking of which, was he always this pale and skinny? He did look kinda rough, Chris determined with a frown, they hadn't taken good care of him, wherever he'd been before.

Not for much longer, of course.

Elliot too had learned from his mistakes, though he never expected to use his newfound knowledge. Enjoying a bite to wake up god-knows-where; no, thank you! It made little sense to take his meds and just drug him still, but he had to anticipate senseless acts from a senseless man.

Elliot wouldn't look up, hell no, that face just helped to make him throw up faster.

"Sorry, but I'm not eating this," Elliot murmured, unsure if there was a gentle way of teaching him that.

Morris looked sheepish: "Oh, is it burned? The first ones always get a little bit more...crispy."

He neither took silence nor no for an answer, but two could play that game.

"So, what do you want to do after this?", Morris asked. He hoped to get the best use out of their intimacy before the inevitable temporary mood killer.

"You talk a lot." Sadly, not one coherent sentence. So Elliot refused to give in to the chit-chat.

"I'm just excited," Morris admitted quietly while desperate to hide the red blotches on his face.

Excited about what?

He had to sound like a broken record by now: "Did I do something wrong? I didn't tell anyone, I swear!"

Morris sighed.

"No, no, I'm not angry with you, is that so hard to believe?" He couldn't stop playing with full, dark strands of hair. "I just said these things to buy more time."

Collecting what remained of his shaky words, Elliot failed to bite his tongue any longer. Sweet-talk me all you want.

"Y-you said, you'd kill my mother."

Morris would never, scout's honor! That woman was huge.

"Yeah, I didn't mean that, obviously!" came the annoyed huff.

Obviously, like Morris wasn't a dangerous man to be around. Obviously, like it was Elliot's fault for believing threats against their lives.

"Wouldn't make a difference if you had told them, either."

A difference for Elliot nonetheless, one could suppose, seeing how drenched in tears he suddenly was. In another life, one where he got to be less of a disappointment, he told his parents and doctors the truth to make peace with himself.

At worse, new accusations only fast-tracked Morris tardy rendezvous with justice. Dragging an unconscious stranger through the streets perhaps did raise some eyebrows... Do you even know about the warrant? Maybe you like a spark of danger.

Unable to protest, free-flowing tears got thumbed away by a caring hand and unbeknownst to Elliot, Morris simply loved that he let himself cry freely.

In the open space behind them, a phone started humming anew. The unhappy musician was finally lucid enough to recognize the melody this time: Für Elise.

In case he had been smart enough to spend the last months growing a backbone, he would have spat Morris straight in the face. The sheer audacity made all tears ebb in an instant.

After what had been more than enough time with strange hair between his fingers, Morris took a seat and let his head drop into his hands: "I hope that doesn't bother you, I'm just gonna let it ring."

Actually, it did bother Elliot, but in a whole different way.

"Where's my phone?", he asked instead, because surly, whatever scenario he was dragged into, Morris considered him sympathetic enough to gift him one call. Like in the movies.

Bet he isn't dumb enough to let it lie around.

The response he got was a worthless shrug: "You didn't have one on you."

How well did that freak search me?

The only other explanation was him losing it during the fall, where and when this supposedly happened was a whole different mystery to him. Taking a hesitant forkful of batter into his mouth, Elliot hoped his good manners would earn him a blink of silence: time he needed to think about his next steps. For now, it only brought a satisfied grin onto himself.

After a few more minutes, the ringing died down.

--------

It became extremely clear that Elliot's plan would go up in flames. A chat with Chris, to smile and look pretty, forcing half a pancake down his tightening throat - he really put all into it. It wasn't enough.

His face burned brightly now too, from fear or rising nerval misery was unclear, all he knew was that it hurt. Pearls of sweat slipped along his fingertips into his lap while Morris was too busy cleaning up the table: "I guess you're full for now, huh?"

The low coo only made him twitch in his seat. Elliot had to stop losing himself.

"How's your...the-the rabbit. You had one of those, right?" Chris asked, turning towards the sink to put the dishes in.

"Good," Elliot tried to say, but any effort to speak was cut off by a choking flare that shot up his neck. The ache hit him without warning throughout every muscle fiber and surged right back into its birthplace, over and over, until nothing but a hollow wheeze shook his body.

It hadn't been this bad in a long time; his skull threatened to split into pieces and if nobody was here to help, then Elliot was glad to take the job.

Fuck Chris and his absolution, if he didn't want to finish what he started, so be it.

This wasn't an abandoned crack house, he didn't need to leave the building, but just had to find someone who lived here too.

Move, the force demanded again, now; and this time Elliot listened.

Without second thought, he slid from the chair and leaped for the door, even closer to it than ever before.

One -two- three steps now and with the door latch just in reach, he-

A thick arm quickly wrapped around his waist to throw him unceremoniously against the nearest wall. His left hand was on fire.

"Let go!" Elliot gasped loudly; too close to screaming for Chris' liking, so a skilled grip around the neck made him shut it quite nicely.

"Calm down, it's alright. Just don't be loud." At least right now. Nobody minded him being noisy elsewhere...soon, he couldn't expect this right off the bat. "Look, I'll let go, but the door is locked anyway, so don't freak out again."

What Elliot tried didn't came as a surprise, but hurt him nonetheless. Morris was more disappointed than upset.

"I'm not doing anything to you, I'm just trying to help!"

Still pressed against the wood-chip wallpaper, one fist grabbing his left arm and one flat on his chest, Elliot could do nothing but take ragged breaths. He was going insane, without question.

"Then help me," he wailed, "nothing of this is alright, I want to leave!"

"You want your next fix, but I won't let that happen, sweetie," he replied sullenly, noticing how Elliot cringed at the pet name. There was enough time to find one that fit.

"I'm not a fucking junkie!" he tried now, his breaking voice didn't make this any more convincing, much less his mood.

"Then why so antsy, huh?"

"It hurts," Elliot mewled, trying to pull his hand free, "just stop!"

"Why? I'm not even holding on tight..."

What was this man going on about? Elliot wondered if he was that dumb; or maybe found it funny.

"You know why," he whispered baffled.

Morris' disappointment spread. He knew what that meant, an imminent truth he tried to sugarcoat for a while: the answer to the question of why Elliot didn't show up for the Oratorio, or any other show after that.

Loosening his grip on the arm, but still pressing Elliot closer against the wall, he took his time to inspect the damned hand in question, to really look at his past fuck-up.

It was clearly thinner and paler, even compared to the rest of Elliot, except for the gnarly red scar line that ran from his wrist all the way to the back of his pinky. Fresh new wounds aside, the weakly curled up pair of fingers, four and five respectively, refused to spread out, not held by force but lack of it.

Morris could feel the rigid metal wires under the dewy, paper-like skin. A few pins in there, or a plate at least. The noise when knife met bone played on loop in his ears: the moment once sharp crunch turned into soft smacks.

This wasn't supposed to happen, all of it was simply wrong.

"Why does it look like that, Ell?"

"You tell me, asshole!"

The tension between them rose high again, and with their faces just inches apart, Elliot prayed that he overheard his insult. Any more pressure and his fingers would just snap on impact.

Despite it all, the confused man didn't pay him any mind, too focused on the fruit of his labor: "That doesn't make sense, it should be back to normal by now."

Through the smoke of pain and leftover narcotics, Elliot wondered if he could be braver this time around, as he pulled the hand back to his side.

"Doesn't matter anymore. I want - I need to go home. I don't understand why you're doing this at all. You're so-"

Different, yes. His Elliot was on the best way to finally understand. Chris didn't want to confess yet, it would be too much at once.

"I missed you." The soothing tone was put on in good faith.

"Missed?" It was practically spat at him. Missed what? Beating me? "Didn't you do enough already?"

Craving revelation, though refusing to back down, both men clenched their jaw tight.

"You need to stop, Morris," Elliot had one last desperate offer to give in case Chris really was insane, not in the pop psychology sort of way, but by being a seriously sick man: "I-I can visit you, okay?!"

Why visit when you can just stay?

"Elliot, quit being so formal."

A buzz ripped them apart. Go to hell, Elise!

Gladly, Morris let go of his chest to stomp over to the kitchen counter.

"Fucking Belanger, I swear to god." With a swift motion, the call was ended. It was obvious that dear Chris tried to keep his facade alive, even with all nerves on edge.

"That's my - uh, that's not really my boss, he only annoys me sometimes."

Elliot nodded wordlessly, as if he could give a rat's ass about Morris and his little pusher friends running around town, playing UNO all night long and ruining other people's relationships.

"Just ignore that, he's from Quebec so," he rolled his eyes excessively, "y'know?!"

No, Elliot didn't know. Respectively, he knew nothing, even after spending all morning with him. The oh-so obvious reason for his stay was still a blank hole of ignorance for him.

He couldn't believe a single word coming from that bastard's mouth, he was a liar back then, and he would be one on every single day to come.

Elliot didn't even register how badly he was shivering.

"We just take it slowly," Morris offered, but struggled to cleanse the atmosphere, "only talk and spend some time together. Do you know Azul? The game with the little tiles?"

Elliot sensed how this would go, the bile in his mouth started having the horrible aftertaste of moonshine and ichor.

Oh god, I can't do this again.

Dizziness hit him from nowhere and took all leftover strength from his already drained body. Panting heavily, Elliot didn't remember how he ended up on the cold floor, just how he kept on shaking whilst staring at Morris through blurry eyes.

As if underwater, no words reached him.

He'd laugh at himself, how the thought of another game night made his already wild panic spike, if his lungs didn't trick him into believing he was drowning on land.

I can't do this again, I can't do this again.

"Hey!"

A weight was placed on his chest, wrapping around his ribs and holding him close - so, so close as if to press all the fear out of him. His mind was racing, partly happy the oncoming lightheadedness alleviated the pain being pumped into him with every fluttering heartbeat.

Inhaling was needles in his lungs, exhaling pointless. The air refused to leave against the source of the comforting pressure.

"-need my pills," was the last thing he could force out, before the rest of Chris' heavy body buried him in a tight embrace. Next to Elliot's ear, he shook his head and shushed him gently.

"You're good for me" he murmured, fighting to keep the clutch, "I'm sorry, we'll make this work."

Unable to help himself, Elliot gave in to the dark walls that were closing in around them, praying for unconsciousness to take him away quickly.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Thanks for reading 🤍 [Masterlist]

Taglist: @whatwasmyprevioususername, @canislycaon24

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whumpitisthen · 2 years

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Masterlist

"I, I do everything you ask! I might mess up sometimes, b-but i didn't this time! I was good, please, I really tried!"

"..."

"Please, please, what do you want from me! Wh-, Wait no, please don't, I'm sorry, I'm sorry for yelling — !"

"Being good is what I expect from you. What I want, right now, is for you to stay still for me a little while. Can you do that?"

"Bu-, But...!"

"I do not care. I told you to sit pretty while I work on you. Will you do that, Whumpee?"

"...Y-, yes, Whumper."

"What's that?"

"Y-Yes, Whumper!"

"...Good. Come along now. I'll look at what you have actually accomplished today after I've had my fun with you."

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redd956 · 2 years

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Whump Ideas: Oversized Whumpees

Lmao! I just moved into my college dorms !!! Might start taking and finishing requests (No nsfw, I’m finicky on whether or not I’ll do pet whump, not a gore fan)

Another whumpee archetype is the oversized whumpee, generally tall and more muscular whumpees. (Perhaps monster whumpees that are just big bois and gorls) I surprisingly don’t see these as often in writing as I initially expected. Here are some I ideas I’ve conjured for this archetype.

The Big Scaredy

- An intimidating Whumpee at first glance

- A big anxious push over

- Perhaps once a terrifying force of nature, reduced to acting much smaller than themselves

- Greatest Hugger

There’s Always A Bigger Fish

- These whumpees are viewed as the more massive and sturdy ones

- Caretaker is shocked to find how someone like them could be reduced to anything, and no one knows how to deal with them

- Their Whumper is somehow bigger than them

- Tends to be ashamed of their “lack” of strength, and blames themselves

- Caretaker is even more terrified at the image of who could be Whumpee’s Whumper

Ashamed of their Whumper

- Their whumper obviously wasn’t there size... Bonus: Whumper is smaller than the average person

- Sometimes stoic

- Whumpee entirely blames themselves, and cannot be convinced otherwise

- Though their Whumper is small, the scars/emotional baggage they bear are surprisingly big

- Shame determines their every action

Big and Strong

- Hiding their injuries and ailments type

-Stoicism

- Can also be the leader

- Refuse to show any sign of weakness, but is increasingly reaching their breaking point

- Likely still being Whumped

- Harsh towards other Whumpees (especially ones their size)

- Why won’t they fight Whumper? Did they already reduce Whumper to ashes?

Traits I love

- Intimidating Scars

- Smol Caretaker vs. Large Whumpee

- Absolute Gym Bro Personality

- Stoic and Big

- Whumpee carrying themselves as if they’re smaller; hunched in posture, enclosed body languages, bowing, crouching, kneeling

- Whumpee terrified that they’re going to hurt Caretaker with even the lightest touch

- Caretaker starting out hateful or frightened of Whumpee

- The big dog trope (laying their body weight on caretaker)

Bonus: Feral Force of Nature

- Usually non-human and/or monstrous

- Sometimes associated with pet whump

- A danger to all those around them

- Will attack caretaker/trying to actively thwart caretaker

- Sharp teeth & claws

- Requires a team to handle

- Caretaker is even more hateful and frightened of Whumpee; constantly trying to get themselves out of the situation

- Gear up and armed Caretaker

- Usually requires force, restraints, or triggers to contain

#whump #whump ideas #whump stuff #whump dynamics #big whumpees #large whumpees #buff whumpees #tall whumpees #whumpees #different types of whumpees #intimidating whumpees #stoic whumpee #muscular whumpees #nonhuman whumper #monstrous whumpee #whump tropes #whump scenarios #whump things

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go-whump-in-the-night · 3 days

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“Look what you made me do.” Simms started to shift himself towards Knox, knife still held up as if to stab again, “Knox… why would you make me do that?”

As Simms came with arm’s length, he slowly, gently, laid the blade across Knox's pale neck, “I warned you… I warned you I would hurt you if you tried to wriggle away.” Simms looked almost hurt, “Why would you want to provoke me? What is it you think is happening here?”

#whump #intimate whump #creepy whumper #tw implied noncon #knife #whumper #whump dialogue #whump excerpt #oc whump #Knox Ainsley #John Simms #emotional whump #fear #intimidation #tw gaslighting

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sunshiline-writes · 11 months

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Rainbringer #2: Say That Again

Kyler starts regretting his decision about making a deal with a goddess. Claire finds out she likes it when Kyler begs.

CW: begging, aftermath of choking, noncon touching (nonsexual), begging, fear of choking, fear of death, brief mention of a knife at the end

Previous | Masterlist | Next

His head hurt. There was a deep throbbing ache on the front of his skull. It took a moment to realize that someone was touching him. Stroking his hair, playing with it. He groaned and tried to lift his head. Then he opened his eyes. Ah, he was still in the temple. Claire was stroking his hair. Oh, she was stroking his hair and his head was in her damn lap. No, no, he didn’t like that. But he felt so heavy. His eyes felt so heavy, he wondered for a moment if she was playing a trick. The gentle, soft touch. He didn’t expect this from her.

“I passed out,” he mumbled, looking up at her. His brain was foggy, like everything was in slow motion. Even his tongue felt heavy.

“Yes you did,” she agreed, smiling gently, “I went too far. I always forget..”

Kyler didn’t say anything, he just started to push himself to sit up. Claire didn’t stop him. His hair had fallen out of its neat low ponytail and he groaned slightly when he righted himself. He brought a hand to his neck, suddenly remembering the feeling of her hands around it. Squeezing, letting go, squeezing. Suddenly he felt like he couldn’t breathe again.

“I healed the bruising,” she stated plainly.

Kyler sighed slightly but it came out more like a wheeze. It was the panic, not the damage. He knew he could breathe normally again but it was the memory of it that was making him feel unwell. Holding his head he groaned again.

“Wow, thanks for that. Really helped me out there,” Kyler said sarcastically, grabbing onto a bench in the temple, and pushing himself into an awkward standing position. He stood half bent over the bench, eyes shut tightly. This headache wasn’t going away was it? No no, this was a different headache.

“I thought we learned a lesson ten minutes ago about disrespect,” Claire said, her voice right next to his ear, breath hot. She was always so close. Did she need to be that close? “I figured I would get rid of the bruises as a favor. For when you go home tonight. Anyone waiting for you?”

Kyler winced as he stood up, turning to face her. Lying would be met with punishment so he answered as vaguely as he could. “Yes.”

“Who?”

“Knowing my personal life was not part of this agreement,” Kyler said warily, gauging her reaction.

“True, but knowing makes you more interesting for me to play with.”

“Great, I definitely want that for me.” Her eyes turned cruel again, and he raised his hands in surrender. “Sorry,” he mumbled.

There was a pause in the room. Like even the air itself stopped moving.

“Say that again,” Claire said, a bit giddily. A child. Why did she act like a child when she was the most cruel?

“What?” he asked, licking his lips slightly.

“You heard me Kyler,” again her eyes were lit up in childlike wonder at the way she was forcing him to apologize again.

“I don’t-”

She shoved him on the bench and he grabbed the front of it to stop himself from falling. He really should have just apologized in the first place. His sarcasm was getting him into trouble here. As per usual, but this was different. This was a goddess. As long as she didn’t put her hands around his throat again. Anything but that.

“Don’t be stubborn, just apologize. Or I can keep you here for longer. I can make you pass out again. Worry whoever is waiting for you at home.”

Kyler bit his lip and balled his fists. Step one to getting through this deal alive and not worrying Irvington: get over his pride.

“No.. I’m sorry..” he finally said, swallowing hard. Picturing her hands around his throat again. “I’m sorry.. Please.. Please just let me go home.”

Claire sighed contently, gently running her hand through his hair, moving it behind his ear. Always touching, always. What was with the touching? It took everything in him not to slap her hands away.

“I love how sweet you sound when you’re begging. I’m going to ask for that more often,” she mused, running her fingers over his ear, tugging playfully on his earlobe. He stood up and she took a few steps back.

“Can I leave now?”

“Yes Kyler,” Claire said with a pout, “But we are going to have so much fun tomorrow.”

So much fun, he thought to himself, as he started to walk past her.

“Bring a knife tomorrow, I want to try something.”

His heart stopped.

Started again.

He left the temple without another word.

Kyler was starting to regret his deal with the goddess. Was the pain worth the rain? The answer was still yet to be answered. tag list: @robinbugbanned @devourerofcheesecake @whumpinthepot @for-the-love-of-angst

#whump #whumpblr #poc whump #sunshine writes whump #rainbringer #kyler lluvia #Claire the goddess #lady whumper #touch averse whumpee #knife mention #begging #aftermath of choking #lots of fear and intimidation #Claire REALLY enjoys when Kyler begs #Kyler is sarcastic af and it gets him into trouble #any guesses as to what Claire has planned?

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another-whump-sideblog · 1 year

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Jane’s Pets Pt. 51: Prove It

TWs in the tags

Masterlist

Jane combs fingers through your hair. “What’s the first letter of the name you used to call Kitty?”

You know how this works by now. She’ll torture you and the others to try and make you say it, but if you don’t it’ll be over.

“I don’t remember.”

“You don’t? Prove it.”

“…What?”

“Prove you don’t remember.”

Your heart pounds. You’re not the most creative or clever person under normal circumstances, especially after you fucked up your head, but now? While you’re sleep deprived and in pain and starving? There’s no hope that you’ll be able to think up a way to convince her.

“I don’t… what do you want?”

“I want you to prove you don’t remember. Can you not do that? Do I have to hurt you more?”

“I don’t remember!”

“Prove it. Prove it or I’ll break more bones. That’s your least favorite, isn’t it?”

You sob. “I don’t know how to prove it! Just tell me what you want! Please, master. I’ll do anything.”

“Like what?” She prompts.

“I… anything you want? I don’t remember, I won’t be able to tell you no matter how much you hurt me. Or the others.”

“Oh? Tell me more.”

You swallow. You’re starting to get an idea of what she wants. “I can’t reach it no matter how hard I try. Even if you break all my bones again, or hurt Kitty and Puppy. I won’t remember it no matter what. If the choice was between something I really didn’t want to do and saying the name I’d have to do the thing I didn’t want to do.”

She smiles and it makes you shake. She’s going to make you prove it but then it will be over.

“And what kind of things do you really not want to do, Bunny?”

Your mind goes blank. “I can’t… you would know better than me, master.”

That was the right thing to say. The wrong thing to say? It made Jane very happy. She stops holding you and paces around the room excitedly.

“You’re right, you’re right! I know you better than you know yourself. I’ve seen all of your weaknesses and fears. I know the parts of yourself you try to pretend you don’t have. Here’s what we’re going to do. Your choice is between saying the old names or hurting Puppy and Kitty. If you don’t, I’ll treat it the same as if you said the names, and the torture will continue.”

You nod.

“What’s your choice?”

“I don’t remember the names.”

“What’s your choice?”

“…I’ll have to hurt them.”

Horrifyingly, you’re glad it’s them and not you. But… they’re stronger than you. They can take it. And it has to happen anyway, for her to believe you don’t remember the names.

“Excellent! I’ll go get them! You better decide what method you want to use.”

She’s going to make you choose. Of course she’s going to make you choose.

It’s not too hard. You know that Kit-

Just the thought of the name fills you with terror. You’re going to get hurt, she’s going to break your bones and burn you and cut you open-

But Jane doesn’t know. She can’t read minds.

You know that Kitty (the name is similar enough that thinking the “right” name still makes your heart pound) prefers things that don’t leave wounds, things like drowning. You don’t know what Puppy would prefer, but you assume it would be similar. Pain that doesn’t last for months afterwards is obviously better than pain that does.

—

You’ve never hurt Puppy before. Not like this. Not with her strapped to a table beneath you and a hose in your hand and Jane behind you, silently threatening that if you don’t go through with it this will never end.

“I’ll tell you when to start and stop. I know how to make sure we don’t do permanent damage, and I don’t want you to go to easy on her. Remember that if you refuse I’ll assume it’s because you do remember the names.”

You nod. Jane turns the hose on.

A/N: Let me know if I should tag anything else!

Tag list: @eatyourdamnpears @ghostsinthecloset @scp-1296 @fuzzybucketz

#whump #whump writing #whumpblr #intimate whumper #creepy whumper #nonhuman whumper #multiple whumpees #whumpee #whumper #caretaker #pet whump #2nd person pov #disscussion of torture tw #drowning tw #jane’s pets #hopefully I’ve done the work to make jane and her punishments intimidating #so that cutting away is tense #instead of disappointing

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unforgivenn · 2 months

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"You see, this is what happens when you defy me. When you refuse to obey. You brought this upon yourself." Whumper sneered , prowling around the nearly unconscious whumpee, their gaze fixated on the blood staining the whumpee's face.

The whumper's voice dripped with satisfaction as they looked over the markings they'd left on the whumpee's battered form. Each bruise and cut a testament to their power and control.

"And now you'll learn your lesson, one gasping breath at a time. Remember this feeling, the desperation, the helplessness. It's all because of your own foolishness. You belong to me, every breath you take is mine to control. Don't you dare forget it."

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thecitythatdoesntsleep · 2 years

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MAY 2ND “BEG TO DIFFER”

Denial | Confined | Eye contact || @themerrywhumpofmay

(TCW: intimidation, harsh language, implied insane/psychotic whumper, flashbacks to medical procedures, captivity, slavery, vampire whumpee, human whumper, genderless prompt)

"Look at me."

Whumpee growled, unearthly, glowing eyes snapping towards the human.

"You're safe here, if you're good,” Whumper informed, an even, gentle tone laid in their voice. “But you need to act like a person, instead of a rabid dog.”

“Why the fuck should I listen to you.. When I’m still in a fucking cage where your men put me.” The vampire hissed, lips flared and eyes still ablaze in hatred. They looked at the human without fear, without intimidation and Whumper seemed pleased to stare them down, right back.

“I need to know you’re going to be obedient, and not make me have to hurt you.” Whumper replied with a smooth crouch, coming to level their stances and look at the swirling cores of inhuman strength. The cage wasn’t stopping them. They both knew that.

“If you think you’re safe because I’m in here, you’re wrong,” Whumpee voiced what they both knew and it only earned a sly, smug looking smile to spread across Whumper’s lips.

“We both have surprises, about us Whumpee. But the fact you’re still in that cage, tells me you’re a little more intimidated than you’d like to admit.” Whumper’s voice annoyed them now, how calm, how collected it was.

Their heart was level, if not a tad excited. They didn’t smell like fear, if anything, there was a hint of arousal in the air. Piqued interest that bordered something akin to lunacy. Something didn’t sit right about them, to be so confident and taunting while looking them eye to eye, unwavering.

Whumpee pushed further, tried to gain a reaction when their hands curled around iron bars and pried them open just a few inches. It looked like they extended the bent curve of a straw from it’s accordion pleat, seamless, like it took no strength at all.

“There you go, what a strong vampire..” Whumper cooed in a mockingly sweet tone, eyes squinting in their smile. “I bet you can walk, too, can’t you?”

“Of course I can fucking walk, what kind of question is that-” Whumpee snapped and they felt heat now, as the human stared into their soul and never left them without pinning eye-contact. “Let me go, so I know I can walk out of here.”

“Oh, I can’t let you go go, but I’ll let you roam the basement for the first few weeks. It’s basically a miniature apartment so, I think it’ll do for now until I know I can trust you.”

“Trust me?! Are you fucking crazy?! You’re not keeping me here!” Another tug and the bars bowed again, this time with intent to truly gap them but as Whumper started to laugh, they froze again.

“I paid too much for you, you can’t leave. If you do, I’ll find you, they make sure, I can find you.”

Whumpee grabbed a fist full of their hair when a surge of pain shot behind their eyes, lights leaving imaginary prisms behind their eyelids. Their stomach curled with tension, body prickled each nerve as if it was taking count of every extremity.

“Gotta plant this nice a deep, so you can’t dig it out.” A man dressed like a surgeon muttered, as their restrained patient flopped against the table they’d been chained to.

They screamed when a needle drove into the back of their neck and was rooted in deeply; jamming into spinal tissue and brainstem. Burning fluid was pushed in along with a small microchip, their body spasming in rivets of shock. Their head hit the table and foamy saliva leaked onto the surface from their parted lips, limbs twitching now in neurologically damaged spasms.

“There, a little blood and you’ll be ready to sell.”

“Hnh, did you just remember something? You look a little pale, well... Paler than usual.”

Whumpee looked back at the human with a scowl and nostrils flared in disgust, hand rubbing their temple from their memory. “Who the fuck are you? How did you buy me?”

“All you need to know right now is that you’ll be treated well here, if you can assure me you’ll be good.” Whumper spoke a bit more sternly by the end and still, left such blazing eye contact behind, keeping them pinned like a bug to a wooden pegboard.

“You can’t just expect me to accept this-” The vampire started and Whumper gave an ironic snort.

“I beg to differ, I have a monetary investment in you and I plan to get my moneys worth. You can either be a beloved house pet that keeps me company and we can live in harmonious bliss..”

Whumper leaned closer, met knees to the floor and curled a hand tightly around the hand of Whumpee’s that still held to an iron bar. They stared the vampire down, clamped the others hand firmly in their own grip that they were assured it was painful. Just by the way Whumpee’s lids slightly twitched in response.

Vampires were handy creatures, when they didn’t seem to need to blink and Whumper was able to soak in every single movement they made. Every dilation in their pupils, every time they shrank to pinheads from their situation. Whumper soaked it up like a sponge.

“Or you can make me resent my purchase and treat you like the other things I get bored of playing with.” It was unsettling, the way Whumper laughed but never seemed to close their eye’s and block off their vision of Whumpee.

“I’m a bit of a spoiled child, you see... When I get bored of things, I break them and leave them on the floor.”

Whumpee swallowed on their dry throat, sight darting to the hand that never seemed to run out of strength to vice grip around theirs. When they looked back, Whumper was still staring, leaning closer until their forehead was against semi-severed bars and the vampire had to lurch backward.

“So I’ll ask again, Whumpee. Will you behave if I let you out?”

#whump #whumpblr #whump community #whump prompt #pet whump #vampire whump #defiant whumpee #vampire au #insane whumper #the merry whump of may #beg to differ #tw medical whump #tw forced procedure #tw whump #tw slavery #tw intimidation #tw threatening #tw vampires

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