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purple-heart-x · 1 year

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A Trade- Chapter 12

Hello everyone! Long time no write! It’s a bit of a short chapter, but I really wanted to give poor Spite some comfort. :) Feel free to let me know what you’d like to see next! :D (seriously, i thrive on interaction or just random comments if you have any)

I’ll try and continue writing this coming week!!

-Joy

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Tags: @redwhump, @whumpsday, @equestrianwritingsstuff, @stuck-in-this-mortal-form, @shydragonrider, @kira-the-whump-enthusiast

Almost an hour later, the villain's eyes opened once more, immediately going wide and frightened when they landed on Aki and Isaac. Isaac stood first. "Hey, buddy... It's okay." When he received a terrified whimper, he just nodded and hushed the boy on the bed. "Shhh, I know. You can be scared if you want, that's alright. But I really need you to drink something. If not water, can you drink some juice?" he asked, holding up a bottle. Spite whimpered, back aching as he looked at the bottle. It looked closed- sealed. Shakily, he managed a nod. "Good, good. Here," he said as the bottle's seal cracked loudly open, "I'm going to hold it up for you. Drink as much as you'd like." Spite shivered leaning in for a tiny sip before cringing back. When no attack came, he hesitantly unfroze, squirming forward again to drink, eagerly now. Desperate, even. Who knew if they'd be kind enough to give him mercy again? Before he knew it, he'd drank the entire bottle. "Good. Good. You're okay now." He didn't dare meet the hero's eyes. Just nodded, keeping his head down. "'M sorry... Please don't hurt me," he wept. "No, no. We won't. We're here to help." He didn't believe it for a second, just shivered and nodded. Better to play along until they told him what they really wanted. "Are you cold? In pain? Hungry?" That was the other one. Yoru. "We want to help you feel better." He had to be joking. Everything hurt. Yes he was cold. And on fire at the same time, still, burning deep in his skin, in his spine. He shook his head instead. "I'm sorry," he mumbled again. "That's alright. You can get as much rest as you need. We'll be here to help you, okay? We won't interrupt except to check the wounds and make sure they don't get infected." "Y-Yes, I- I will. Please... D-Don't bring me back." his voice felt rusty, out of use. Something landed over him and he jumped. "Blanket," Crimson said gently. "You're not going back there. I promise, we're not here to hurt you." Spite shuddered, accidentally tugging on the restraints in an attempt to hug himself tighter. He only realized they'd noticed when he heard a faint zrrrrp sound and a flash of pressure on his wrist. Yoru was looking at him, holding the restraints. "We had to use these to keep you from thrashing and hurting yourself. Now that you're more lucid, we don't have to use them anymore. Right?" He nodded hastily. "R-Right, I- I promise, I'll be good, I w-won't do it again," he sniffled. He didn't understand why Yoru was looking at him with a touch of sadness in his eyes. "That's not what I meant, Spite." The villain didn't have time to reflect on what he meant. "Are you comfortable in this position? Do you want help to shift?" Spite shook his head again. It didn't hurt too bad now. He didn't want it to start again. "Um, c-can I please sleep? I promise I'll s-stay still..." Aki hesitated. "Here, hold still for a minute?" Gently, carefully, he laid the back of his hand on the villain's forehead. Letting out a hum, he nodded. "Better than before. Yes, you can sleep. Sleep as long as you'd like, Spite." Spite tried to thank him, leaning into the touch. Really, he did. But halfway through the words his eyes dulled and slipped closed, arms going limp as they pulled the blankets tight around him like a shield.

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lumpsbumpsandwhumps · 3 months

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uhh good old fashioned forced to kneel (maybe in front of a mafia boss after failing a job), maybe pistol whipping involved

hehehehehe

It was useless to struggle. You knew it was useless to struggle. You struggled many times in the past and had never been able to make the man budge once, so why you thought this time would be any different was wasted effort on your part. Still, you couldn't help the instinctual need to fight against the thick arm coiled around your waist that dragged you deeper into the underground vault.

I've gotten you approved for a transfer to one of our sister locations, your former manager said. It's in a higher end district so there's tighter safety measures in place, she said. You won't need to let that fear hold you back again, she said.

In her defense, she couldn't have possibly been able to be able to predict just two months later this bank would also be targeted. By the same group of men, no less. Well, you assumed they were the same, based off the similar physiques and coordinated masks. Skullface and his vintage Halloween counterparts were absent this time, instead being replaced with plastic faces of dog breeds. You were currently experiencing the joy yet again of being manhandled by Rottweiler and you had no doubt his bite would be worse than his bark.

As soon as you were escorted into the vault meant to store customers' safety deposit boxes, the arm hauling you along dropped to let you stumble. Thankfully, only your wrists were bound in zipties, leaving your wobbly legs to hightail it back towards the entrance before the collar of your shirt was seized. With a grunt, you were thrown against one of the metal tables, taking the brunt of the impact with your hip. You were caged in between thick limbs on either side, allowing the robber to crowd your space and practically swallow you whole with his massive build.

This close, you could smell the gunpowder and ash that clung to his jacket. Somewhere deep within the caverns of the mask's eyeholes, you might have been able to catch a wisp of pale lashes. But you weren't too concerned with that right now, not when you knew good and well that you had earned the ire of a dangerous man.

"What the fuck was that?" he hissed, having to lean down to accommodate for the difference in height. You could only curve your back so far against the blunt edge of the table to make distance.

Initially, you weren't going to give him the satisfaction of an answer. Not that you didn't want to, of course; a scathing fuck you burning on the tip of your tongue. You were smart enough to know that a tiger would only tolerate being poked so many times with a stick. The fact that you tried to sabotage the dye packs when his back was turned was more akin to jabbing a stick straight into its eye. It was a miracle you weren't shot dead then and there.

Your lack of response was grinding further on his nerves, made evident when his gloved hand grabbed you by the jaw. His fingers dug into the hollows of your cheeks, sure to leave little purple bruises around the outline of your teeth. The last time he held your face like this was to forcefully pucker your lips, now free of their gag, to share a mock kiss between you and the plastic mouth of his skull mask before your were shoved out of a moving getaway vehicle. A quick peck probably wasn't on his mind right now, though.

"No, really," he insisted with the same, clipped edge in his tone, "I want to know what the fuck was going on inside that empty little head of your's to think that was a good idea."

Even with your face being squeezed, you managed to talk around his fingers, hoping that your matching glare would make up for any slurred speech. "Would'a made y' eas'er t'catch."

Oh, if masks could speak, there was no doubt the Rottweiler sharing his face would be latching its teeth around your throat with a snarl. In fact, you almost thought that was what the criminal was rearing to do when he briefly freed you from your prison to straighten his stance. No sooner had those arms released you was one swinging down from your peripheral, too fast for you to consider dodging. The butt of his gun cracked against your cheekbone, your teeth cutting against your already bruising flesh and threatening to loosen from the gums completely.

The pain took a few seconds to register after the initial hit. For a moment, you worried that you had been shot rather than pistol whipped with how your vision flashed white and your were deafened by the ringing in your ears. A moment later and a fiery ache bloomed across the entire left side of your face. Pain throbbed with each heartbeat that echoed in your head, tingling from the roots of your teeth and the expanse of your lower jaw, only tapering out somewhat under your eye.

Blood welled on your tongue, thick and bitter, from a cut or something broken you couldn't be certain of yet. Not only had you been rendered speechless by the agony coursing red hot under your skin, but the knock to the head was more than enough to make your knees buckle in a dizzying daze. You tipped forward, almost about to faceplant right into Rottweiler's bulletproof vest, but instead he let you stumble hard onto your knees in front of him. Well, at least being on the partially on the floor meant you didn't have to mind where the glob of saliva and blood landed when you spat it out.

You couldn't help but groan, not sure if your swollen tongue would be able to make anything else coherent enough. What was there to say, anyways? More taunts, a string of expletives, apologies meant to plead for forgiveness? There was nothing you could think of with how your thoughts were too rattled in your brain. Nothing worth the pain of opening and closing your mouth with cracked teeth, that is.

Leather fingers buried themselves deep in your hair, grasping at the roots to ensure a tight hold when they yanked your head up and back. You gasped, a sudden wave of nausea hitting you just as hard as the glock had. Stars had to be rapidly blinked away before your vision could focus on the Rottweiler staring down at you. If he wanted to, he would be able to snap your neck with just a flick of his wrist. Hell, he could have always done that whenever he wanted to, just as he could have shot you or stabbed you or strangled you at any point of your hostageship. Both current and previous.

But he didn't, even when you knew you deserved it. Even when you knew other innocent bystanders had suffered for lesser, if any, infringements during a heist.

Again, the gun made its appearance out of the corner of your eye, taunting your with its proximity. Rather than bash the other side of your face to even out the damage, the cool metal of the barrel pressed sharply to the cheek that was just assaulted. The molar under it shifted, causing your eyes to water. You really hoped the dental insurance your employer offered covered this kind of work.

"If you didn't look so good on your knees, I'd pull the trigger," the robber sneered. If your face wasn't already burning with pain, it would be running twice as hot with shame. "Now don't make me find a better use for that mouth, love."

Tomorrow sounded like a good day to call out sick.

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radicarian · 1 month

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suddenly recovered memories of that time in college when I read a bunch of Carol Berg in a short time and came away with the conclusion, "good worldbuilding is a magic system plus a justice system that both require your protagonist get WHUMPED TO HELL"

#legit started writing a story where the protagonist had Accidentally Unleashed Some Magic that resulted in multiple deaths right #but she was the only one who could put the thing back in the bottle so she was paroled. to stop the thing #but subjected to a curse whereby her parole officer could simply Choke Her Into Unconsciousness The Second She Did Anything Suspicious #also her parole officer was her ex-mentor whom she'd had an inappropriate crush on at the time!!#I wrote like 20k words of her being. consumed with guilt. hung over. universally despised. blacking out all the time.#trying to sacrifice whatever part of herself The Horrorterrors would find acceptable. failing that. necromancy #so much so that I forgot to write a plot. it was just 'look at this sweaty wreck of a sadgirl. I'm poking her with sticks'#anyway let this post serve as a recommendation for Carol Berg although for the record her whumpees are almost always dudes

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write-stuff-if-you-wanna · 2 years

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Whats The Truth?

Hero SCREAMED. There they were laying in a bed. Their left arm detached from there body with wires coming out of both ends. And their right leg detached with the same wiring and mechanical parts inside. His body hooked up to wires. And then theres Superhero standing beside a machine. Which the wires connected to.

“Hey…hero relax..everything’s okay” Superhero attempted to say in soothing tone.

“What….what the hell….is this…?” Hero said wearily.

“Its okay. Everything is gonna be okay Hero, just hold still okay? Everything will be fine.” Superhero calmly stated while he walked slowly towards hero firing up his glowing whitish-grey and red magic.

“S-stay- STAY AWAY FROM ME!!” Hero quickly grabbed his leg and arm, shoving them back on incorrectly before jumping out of the bed, a wave of dizziness hitting him hard.

“Hero stop!!” Superhero yelled now picking up the pace to get to hero.

“No..NO… YOU..YOUR..IM..STAY AWAY!!” Hero screeched as Superhero grabbed them by the arm. But hero wasn’t gonna give in so easily thinking quickly they grab a near by table on wheels and SLAM it into Superhero with all their might, causing Superhero to let them go.

Hero ran out of the room, his vision going in and out, but he just kept running. He soon heard Superhero calling after him and attempted to pick up the pace.

Eventually Hero had managed to juke Superhero. But didn’t stop running. He was tired, dizzy, scared, confused. But he didn’t. Stop. Running. What was he even running from anymore? Superhero was long gone. The trees became thicker the more he ran deeper into the woods. Perhaps he was running from himself. He finally stopped when his mechanical arm fell of. Letting out a terrified scream he scrambles to put it back on. But even after it was on he couldn’t stop screaming. What Was he!? was he a human? Cyborg!? robot!?DEAD!? He couldn’t stop screaming. All his life he was sure he was a human being but now? How could he be sure!? The inside of his arms and legs looked mechanical!!

He started running again. The terror coming out of his vocal cords never ceasing.

#writing prompt #prompts #hero #superhero #Angst #Angsty #Suspicious Superhero #hero x villain #bad caretaker superhero #lied to #betrayal #whumpee hero

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newbornwhumperfly · 8 months

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I love Morja— the perfect mix of defiance and terrified compliance is just beautiful and he’s so much fun 😌😌😌😌😌

i am legally obligated to inform you that my heart swells three sizes whenever someone praises my boy 🥺🥺🥺💖💖💖

#ahhhh. i appreciate this so much 💖#morja #morja and company #my writing #asks #suspicious-whumping-egg #whump #whumpee

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but-what-if-its-whumpy · 2 years

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Whumpee #24

They don’t have a name but anyone is welcome to use them! Just tag me if you repost please;)

✏️commissions information🖍

#well #I’m calling him Lucky #*don’t be suspicious plays in the background*#whump #mine:)#whumpee #whump art #art whump #what to tag???#sick whump #soft whump #male whumpee #ladywhump #lady whump #lady whumpee #really whatever gender fancy tbh

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throwawaywhumper · 2 years

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Whumpee: "Why the hell would you put an active wasp nest in my room while I was sleeping??"

Whumper: "Well I couldn't do it during the day, the wasps were still active, obviously."

#chatting with the void #whump #im sorry i love dumbass whumpers #like sir there are now Angry Wasps in your home #i promise they wont stay contained to one room #probably burrow into your walls #now youre going to have to call an expert to take care of this and pretend nothing suspicious is happening with whumpee #good going #i should post more dumbass whumper

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safin-supremacy · 1 year

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Tom Voze X Reader Suspicious, Angsty prompt

You would surprise Tom when you turned the light on in the hallway, and he winced, looking back at you. “Going somewhere?” You questioned, suspicious.

Tom frowned, looking anywhere, but you. “Y-Yeah, I was called to a meeting-”

“Don’t lie to me,” you interrupted sharply, wishing he’d tell you what you thought was the truth.

“I’m not lying to you, Y/n,” he assured, “I never lie to you.”

You sighed, giving up. “Just-.. Go and do what you want to do,” you mumbled, turning and walking back up the stairs. Tom wished he could stay and comfort you, but he knew he had to go otherwise he’d get into trouble, so he reluctantly left the house. You sat on the edge of the bed, listening to him pulling out of the driveway in his car. You sighed shakily, curling up as you felt vulnerable and overwhelmed by the sudden silence which was closing in on you after the car left.

↯

Mrs. Moranne heard you screaming, and she ran up the stairs, and rushed over to you when she opened the bedroom door to find you standing in the corner of the room, frightened of something you’d seen in your head. Mrs. Moranne winced; she wasn’t as good as Tom was when it came to calming you down as she warily approached, but luckily you weren’t in the worst state as you seemed to recognise her, letting her guide you back to the bed and sit you down, before she sat beside you. “Just breathe, okay?” Mrs. Moranne advised, and you nodded, trying to do as she said. “Did you see something?” Mrs. Moranne inquired, and you nodded, your eyes glistening with uninvited tears.

You briefly forgot that Tom still wasn’t back, and you looked around. “Where is Tom?” You asked, and Mrs. Moranne frowned. “I thought he’d be back by now-”

“He’s gone into the city, madam,” she interjected kindly, “he won’t be back until tomorrow morning. With all due respect,” she began again, “what did you expect?”

You sighed, bowing your head. “I don’t know what to expect anymore,” you responded, your voice briefly trembling. You then broke down, burying your face into your hands. “I just feel so alone,” you admitted, and Mrs. Moranne smiled sadly, placing her hand on your shoulder.

“You’re not alone,” she reminded you, “we’re here to take care of you, even Carlton downstairs-”

“N-Not him,” you whined, nervous, and Mrs. Moranne fell quiet, nodding; she knew you were afraid of Carlton, but she couldn’t fathom why.

~~~~~

Enjoy! ❤️

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letitbehurt · 5 months

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A trope I adore: not only a drugged Whumpee, but the act of drugging Whumpee.

Pinning Whumpee’s arm to the ground or a table, keeping them still enough to push the needle into their arm

Causing a sharp, sudden pain that makes Whumpee cry out, their mouth opened just long enough to shove a pill inside—then holding a hand over Whumpee’s nose and mouth until they swallow or suffocate

Forcing Whumpee to drink something they know is laced (or don’t)

Waving a strong chemical beneath an unconscious or exhausted Whumpee’s nose, and watching the effects hit their system almost immediately

Making Whumpee finish a suspiciously chalky meal

Restraining Whumpee and hooking them up to a constant drip of fluids meant to keep them docile. Bonus: Whumpee fighting tooth and nail to keep the needle from their arm because they know—once it’s in, there’s no chance to escape

#Whumpee having no choice but to ingest something dangerous #Whumper watching them weigh their choices and knowing they’ll give in #Whumpee screaming and struggling and none of it making a difference #just the act of drugging itself #good shit #whump

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allthewhumpygoodness · 6 months

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Having Thoughts tonight about a whumpee who's been taken in by a group or couple, and their first night there is just miserable. Sick, in pain, having nightmares -- they can't get to sleep and lie in bed for hours tossing and turning and letting out a distressed whimper now and again.

One of the new caretakers has been...less enthusiastic about taking them in than he others. But for whatever reason, it's them who hears the sad little sounds coming from the whumpee's room late at night, and so, with a sigh and a bit of reservation, it's them who goes to check on them. And they end up staying for a while, talking softly to them and growing less suspicious and more concerned and sympathetic as the hours go by.

#whump #i love this trope i love this trope i love this trope

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painsandconfusion · 10 months

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Forced Comfort

Because who doesn't like a little bit of intimate whumper vibes?

[Prompt Masterpost]

Whumpee wrapped up in a blanket. The soft fabric hides the fact that their hands are still bound behind their back.

Gentle fingers brushing the hair from Whumpee’s face - carefully peeling it back through the sheen of sweat that’s left.

“Shhh…you’re okay. I’m not gonna hurt you anymore..”

Kissing tears from the corners of Whumpee’s eyes.

Whumper keeping Whumpee sedated between sessions to 'help them cope'.

“Hold still- hold still or I’ll start again.”

Pinning a squirming Whumpee in an embrace. Grip tightening the more they struggle.

Whumpee being so tired. So so so very tired. They can’t help but lean into the gentle touch.

Whumper ignoring every shiver and twitch that accompanies the gentle pets they give their broken toy.

“Nnnnono-sst…d-on’ t ouchme-!”

Whumpee thrashing to the point of hyperventilation as Whumper wraps them up in blankets. The panic in their eyes ever so slowly fading as they realize they’re not being hurt anymore.

Whumpee desperately not trying to lean into it or accept the comfort. They don’t want it from them - don’t want to melt into the hands that ripped screams from them just a few minute before. But they need something. And Whumper knows it.

“Look at you. Pathetic little thing~”

Shoving Whumpee into a bath to trigger some kind of calming response. Whumpee just thinks they’re going to be drowned. …….maybe they will be. Just a little bit.

Whumper combing a hand through Whumpee’s hair - soft and rhythmic and sweet - as they carve into Whumpee.

“Shhh..just focus on me. Don’t look at it- just look at me. Listen to my voice. You’re doing so good, little one.”

Kisses peppering over Whumpee’s cheeks, lips, forehead, brows, jaw, etc as their face puckers up, trying to twist away.

A hug that looks gentle until you notice Whumper’s hand fisted in Whumpee’s hair. Keeping them exactly in place.

“Don’ don t t-ouch me- STOP-”

Drugging Whumpee to ‘help with the nerves’. Watching their panicked sobs slowly peter out into nothing as they stare miserably at their captor.

“Make the most of this. We start again in the morning.”

[Prompt Masterpost]

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

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

#torture #blood #forced comfort #intimate whumper #noncon touch #noncon kiss #drugging #prompt list #whump prompts #whump tropes #whump #conditioned whumpee #conditioning #good old stockholm syndrome sets in

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demondamage · 11 months

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Not normally a fan of bad caretakers BUT--

Imagine a caretaker who just loves the attention they get for it. They get to be the star of the show, rescuing whumpee and nursing them back to health. They're a hero, always saving this poor soul who seems to be caught up in something over their head.

Of course it was organic the first few times, with Caretaker actually saving Whumpee, but once Caretaker started getting high on the attention and praise, things suspiciously got a lot easier for Whumper.

Keys to Whumpee's house showed start showing up in the mail. Then it's times and places to best kidnap Whumpee listed out. Eventually Whumper just starts getting fat wads of cash and a "to do" list from their mysterious benefactor.

Whumper knows who it is of course, no doubt, but Caretaker is still a little surprised when they show up in their home, letting themselves in through an unlocked window.

"I ain't doing it." Whumper states, spitting their words out as they drop Caretaker's cash on the ground, shaking their head. "Look, I know I'm a monster. But... you want me to do THAT to them? No. Go to hell. I'm fucking done."

#whump #whump prompt #bad caretaker #caretaker turned whumper #whumper turned caretaker?#you can decide for yourself what whumper didn't want to do

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pendarling · 1 month

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Stalking Whump Prompts

Closing windows and doors only to find them opened again

Scattered messages and notes throughout their home, car, school and/or workplace

Hearing noises everywhere

Power turning off

Never feeling alone

Waking up in the middle of the night from fear

Stuff is being moved or rearranged

Whumpee taking a picture of objects to make sure they know they left it exactly as it was

Getting messages and phone calls from no one

Everybody calls Whumpee crazy

If Whumpee had a previous stalker that’s in jail or dead then they constantly visit them to make sure it’s not Whumper

Random scars and bruises in their body

Receiving a package or “gift” as Whumper calls it

Food being tampered with

Moving temporarily to a new home

Hiding their things and keeping secrets

Seeing shadows or strange movements in the corner of their eye

When someone Whumpee had been suspicious about mentions something they had kept to themselves

Whumpee wishes that it really is someone because at this point there’s never enough evidence

Losing their mind and accusing others like Caretaker of stalking

Eventually stalking Caretaker because they’re so certain it’s them

Constantly people watching when they’re outside in the hopes of figuring out who it might be

When Whumpee gets closer to the truth they receive warnings like property being destroyed or stolen

A Whumpee that is sleep deprived and hallucinates the experience

Whumper is present with Whumpee who claims there’s a third person stalking them and Whumper always has to do the reassuring (Whumper turned Caretaker)

~~~

MASTERLIST

#writing prompt #Whump #Whumpee #whumper #bad caretaker x whumpee #caretaker x whumpee #writing #prompts #Whump prompts #stalking whumper #tw stalking #stalking whump #whumpee x caretaker #prompt list

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a-living-canvas · 1 month

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Be mine

Whumper got a confused look on his face, as he saw Whumpee waiting for him outside the house. He parked the car outside the gate, took a deep breath and got out of the car.

Whumpee looked a little anxious. "I wonder why…",Whumper thought. Whumper unlocked the gate and locked it back again when Whumpee went over to his side.

"Yes, Whumpee?" Whumper asked softly. Whumpee blinks their eyes a few times. "Well, uh…actually I was waiting for you so I can go back to my friends."

Whumper's breath came to a halt for a moment but he kept his calm demeanor in front of Whumpee. Whumper eyed them up and down, "You are still sick."

"No, I, actually I have gotten better since last time. I think I can make it to my friends." Whumpee tried to convince as Whumper just stared at the ground beneath them.

"Listen. You are still sick. You may not feel it, but I'm the doctor here. I know what you exactly need, and right now you need to rest." Whumper walked past Whumpee but their hands were tugged slightly.

"Can you just let me go now? My teammates would be worried if I gone for too long."

Whumper let out an exasperated sigh. They wanted this to be over fast. "Why do you care so much about them? I'm the one who treated you."

Whumpee's eyes widened, "W-what are you talking about? It's not their fault I ended up getting injured while I'm separated from them."

Whumper glanced to their side, "Still, you are sick. You might not survive in the forest alone until you are fully healed."

Whumpee lifted their arms to their side, letting Whumper examine them once again. "See, I'm okay now. Thanks to you." Whumpee forced out a genuine smile. They felt gradually suspicious and scared of Whumper as days went by.

Whumper's eyes softened when Whumpee so politely thanked them. But, then they touched the wound on Whumpee side, making them winced at the contact.

"See? Still sick." Whumper grabbed Whumpee's hand and dragged them to the house. "Wait, that's not fair!– Why can't you just let me go?!" Whumpee snapped.

Whumper stopped at their tracks, turning their head slowly to Whumpee. "Because…," they loosened their grips on Whumpee's wrist. "...you are mine."

Whumpee watched them in disbelieved, "You are not making any sense…" Whumpee stammered, "W-we just met and that was only because you offered to treat me. And now you won't let me go because…because of that? Are you…crazy?"

Whumper gritted their teeth, they didn't like it when Whumpee started to say this kind of thing to him. "You are not doing okay, but don't worry I'm gonna help you."

Whumper said it casually even though panic started to rise in their head, they needed to convince Whumpee to stay.

Whumper tightened their grips again and walked to the door with Whumpee resisting behind them. "No! Let me go, just let me go! I don't want to stay here, I don–"

The door slammed shut as they entered the house. The loud sound made Whumpee froze in an instant. Whumper locked the door before releasing Whumpee who immediately backed away from them.

Silence enveloping them, only the sound of Whumpee's ragged breathing filled out the room. Whumpee rubbed their bruised wrist slowly and Whumper noticed that. Guilt suddenly washed over them.

"Sit."

Whumper ordered before going around the room to get the First aid–kit. Whumpee stood still, their legs can't seem to move from the floor. Whumper glanced at them slightly, "Don't make me say it again." Their tone wasn't firm or harsh, but it did made Whumpee took their seat regardless.

Whumper came back with the First aid-kit, and gently held Whumpee's wrist in one hand. They started to carefully wrap it with a bandage. Whumpee silently watched their every move.

"I'm sorry for bruising your wrist…" Whumper muttered quietly, they couldn't even look at Whumpee in the eye. Whumpee blinked their eyes a few times. They slowly regained their composure.

"If…if you are really sorry, let me go then…" Whumpee silently pleaded that won't make Whumper mad at them even more. Whumper seemed to be ignoring them as they continued to take care of Whumpee's wrist.

When they were done, Whumper appeared to be lost in their thoughts. Whumpee stayed silent as well, not daring to let out a single word.

"Is it the food?" Whumper asked, bringing their eyes to Whumpee's. Whumpee was speechless for a second,

"What?"

"Did you not like the food that I made for you?" Whumper sounded almost sad, which made the situation even worse for Whumpee.

"What? No, I–"

"Or maybe the curtains? You don't like the color?" Whumper looked frantically around the room, desperately searching for something that made Whumpee didn't want to stay with them.

Whumper turned their attention back to Whumpee, "Is…is it the couch? It's not soft enough for you?" Whumper wrapped Whumpee's hands. "What is it then?"

"Listen, I–"

"Or maybe you didn't like the color red on furniture? I-I like red you know but if you don't want it I can change it for you."

Whumper placed his index finger between his lips, and disappeared into their own world. "Maybe the fridge? But I just bought a new one last week. The air conditioner seems fine, too…" Whumper muttered to themselves.

Whumpee suddenly felt a shiver down their spine. Their hands trembled when they tried to reach for Whumper's shoulders. "H-hey…"

Whumper's eyes perked up when they heard Whumpee's voice. Their eyes widened when they realized Whumpee's hands were carefully wrapped around them.

"L-listen to me…if…if you send me back to my friends, I promise I will call you and if you want to meet we can meet but…but please don't lock me in here."

Whumper couldn't resist the pleading look on Whumpee's face. But at the same time, they didn't want to be separated from Whumpee. Whumper swallowed hard, they were afraid Whumpee would hate them if they refuse.

"O-okay…" Whumper finally said, looking down at their lap. They decided to trust on Whumpee's words, because Whumpee wouldn't lie to them, right?

Whumpee let out a relieved sigh as they released Whumper's shoulders. They smiled at Whumper, "Thank you! Thank you so much…"

Whumper gently patting Whumpee's head. "You are welcome, my dear."

When they both arrived at the campsite, Whumpee couldn't hide their excitement as they watched their friends again after a few weeks. It was the opposite for Whumper though, as they gripped the steering wheel tightly.

The desire to return back to their beloved home with Whumpee was overwhelming them. But they couldn't do that even if they wanted to. They didn't want Whumpee to look at them with the look of hatred.

"Do you want to meet my friends?" Whumpee asked. Whumper shook their heads almost instantly, they had no interest in anyone other than Whumpee.

"Okay…so…I need to go." Whumpee said and unbuckled the seat belt around them. Before they got out of the car, Whumper tugged on their shirt, "We will meet again?" Whumpee hesitant for a moment, but they put on a smile,

"We will meet again."

#whump #intimate/creepy whumper #whump community #whumper

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chaotic-orphan · 3 months

Text

Febuwhump: Day Four

“Obedience” — @febuwhump prompt!

If this doesn’t have Ambrose’s name written all over it >:)

Intoxicating Fear — part Xi

Read part one here

Continued from here

TW: forced to obey, mentions of SH, SH implied and referred to, mentions of scars, past Whump implied, past sh implied, past sh inferred, kidnapped Whumpee, captive Whumpee, sadistic whumper,

*~*~*~*~*

Kit walked out of his room a few hours later, looking worse off than before he went in, but Ambrose didn’t question him as he walked over to the kettle and filled it with water. He just sat at the table, watching him as he moved about, doing his best to ignore Ambrose’s stares.

Ambrose had Kit’s phone in between his thumb and index finger, using his fourth finger to twirl it slowly, in a controlled motion over itself and back again.

Kit took a mug out from the cupboard above the counter, spooned three spoons of coffee into a cup clanging the metal spoon into the mug and turning to face Ambrose. He was wedged in the corner, crossing his arms over his chest as he shrugged and asked: “what?”

Ambrose smiled, “what do you mean what?”

“Don’t play coy, Ambrose,” Kit said with a groan, wiping a hand down his face. “It doesn’t suit you. I can hear your cogs turning in your brain.”

Ambrose’s smile turned coy, “isn’t that my power, Mallory?”

Kit scoffed and turned, throwing his hands in the air.

“Whatever,” he mumbled to himself as the kettle boiled, the switch flipping up as the water rumbled soothingly within. “I’ll probably find out soon enough anyway.”

Ambrose’s smile fell when Kit turned his back, his eyebrows drawing together in quiet contemplation, whether to broach the subject or not.

“I’ve been thinking Kit,” Ambrose said after a while.

“Uh-oh,” said Kit, stirring his coffee.

Ambrose smiled, despite himself, at Kit’s inability to shut up sometimes. Kit turned again, steaming hot cup cradled between his palms as he regarded Ambrose with an impassive expression.

“Should I be worried?” Kit asked, taking a tentative sip.

Ambrose let out a soft laugh. “No. It’s actually something that could benefit both of us,” said Ambrose. Kit’s eyebrows shot to the ceiling, then immediately pinched themselves down into a frown, suspicious and on guard immediately.

“I know,” said Ambrose. “You have every right to be skeptical, but I think… after recent events that we should consider a way to do things more effectively.”

Kit’s lips curled back into a snarl, like that of a stray dogs. “You mean you want to be more efficient in how you torture me?!”

“No,” Ambrose said, dark eyes meeting Kit’s light ones, bright with anger. “I think we should be able to have a conversation without getting defensive.”

Kit scoffed, rolling his eyes to the sky. “I wonder, god, gee Ambrose, you’re right. I wonder why the fuck we can’t be civil with each other. It’s a real head scratcher, huh?”

Ambrose’s voice took an edge to it and Kit’s mockery fell vanished in their throat.

“There is no reason we can’t both somehow get along.”

“I don’t know, Rosy,” Kit said, which drew a cutting stare from Ambrose. “Somehow getting along with my torturer is not on my bingo card this year.”

Ambrose laughed. He laughed a moment too long at Kit’s outburst, before he settled his gaze on Kit again and his entire expression went blank like the fucking psychopath he was.

“I could take every single freedom from you, Kit,” said Ambrose, voice full of sadistic promise. Kit swallowed hard, and covered it up with a sip of his coffee. “I could have you on your knees right now begging me to hurt you again—“

“You would just love that wouldn’t you?” Kit snapped. Ambrose inclined his head at Kit, a warning, so Kit shut up.

“The truth of the matter is that I don’t want you to be some drooling, half formed thing,” Ambrose said, leaving the phone on the table and getting to his feet. Kit’s expression faltered for a moment, fear flashing across his features before schooling them neutral again.

Ambrose approached slowly. Kit took an unconscious step back but was quickly reminded that he was standing in the corner of his kitchenette and silently cursed himself for cornering himself.

“I want you to struggle and fight me, otherwise you wouldn’t be as entertaining,” he said getting closer and closer. Kit tightened his grip on the mug to stop his hands from shaking. “I want you to have your free will and be, well, Kit, because you are the most fun I’ve ever had.”

Kit swallowed, wanting to look away but too scared to do it. “Glad to be of service.”

“See?” Ambrose said, eyes bright and voice brighter as he stood in front of Kit, forcing Kit to stare up at him. “You just can’t help yourself.”

Something flittered across Ambrose’s face that Kit couldn’t quite identify. “Your defiance is what makes you so fun, but, it’s tiring subduing you all the time.”

Kit didn’t dare speak, no matter how much he wanted to. The hairs on the back of his neck prickled when Ambrose put his hands on the edge of the counters boxing Kit in more. Ambrose leaned in, teeth bared in a wolfish smile as Kit’s eyes widened and he leaned back awkwardly to try and keep some space between him and his tormentor.

“See? That fear,” Ambrose whispered, as if he was saying a prayer, eyes searching Kit’s face and drinking in every last detail, every minute wince or flinch or hint of discomfort. “You just can’t bury it no matter how hard you try to hide it from me. It’s commendable really, but, this doesn’t have to be just me benefiting from this relationship.”

“Relationship?!” Kit breathed with a scoff, disgust written across his face and lacing every syllable. “I want nothing to do with you!”

“But wouldn’t you enjoy your life a bit more if there were days where I didn’t have to wrestle every piece of your defiance from your body?”

The words left Kit speechless. His chest rising and falling in time with Ambrose’s. The thought of not having to worry about Ambrose’s power invading his mind sounded too good to be true, so foreign. How long had it been since Kit didn’t have to worry about Ambrose torturing him for fun? To worry about what he was going to say in case it flipped a switch in Ambrose’s brain and made him hurt Kit.

Kit was tired. He was exhausted. Life before Ambrose seemed like a dream, not a reality. He missed being ignorant. He missed not having to be terrified every day.

Ambrose got his answer when Kit’s shoulders dropped.

“See? You want it just as much as I do.”

Ambrose leaned back, backing out of Kit’s space and allowing him to stand properly again. Kit’s eyes dropped to the floor as shame flooded his system.

Deferring to a Villain?! Who was he? He was so weak, how could he kid himself into being a Hero when he couldn’t even fight a Villain for himself?!

“What do you suggest?” Kit asked, voice quiet and broken. How could thoughts of freedom take this much life from his body?! The guilt burned red up Kit’s neck, but he couldn’t not concede. He was exhausted. He just wanted a little semblance of normalcy, and if that price was whatever Ambrose named then so be it.

“Your… obedience,” Ambrose said. The words hit Kit in the chest harder than a kick from a horse. His head snapped up, eyes locking onto Ambrose’s in accusation.

“You want my consent to hurt me?!” Kit barked out with a humourless laugh. “No. Absolutely not.”

Ambrose rolled his eyes and folded his arms across his chest. “Would you just hear me out before making a judgement?”

Kit grit his teeth behind closed lips and nodded.

“I was thinking about it all. The amount of power I have to use to subdue you everyday, not letting you use your power, not letting you leave the house. It doesn’t all happen naturally. My power’s working overtime 24/7 with you. It’s getting exhausting.”

Kit’s eyes narrowed but he said nothing. Oh boo-fucking-who, he thought, torturing someone takes effort, poor Ambrose.

“So I came up with a proposition if you dare to consider it. I will leave you alone for most of the week,” he said, and Kit’s heart stuttered to a stop. It must have shown on his face given Ambrose’s smirk. “I will pop in sometimes, only two or three times a week. All I ask if that you obey this little schedule change without fighting me.”

Kit’s words came out breathless, “so you do want me to consent to being tortured,” he said, an unreadable expression screwing his face up tight.

“Think of it more as consent to not being tortured as you are now,” said Ambrose taking a step closer, closing the gap between them again. He placed a hand on Kit’s cheek, thumb hooked under his chin and tilted Kit’s head up. Dark eyes searching Kit’s. “Don’t you want to be free of me, even if just for a little while?”

Kit’s bottom lip trembled. He did, he wanted it more than anything. He wanted to have some kind of normal life even if it meant agreeing to this outrageous condition. He missed his life, he missed Superhero and his job. He missed grocery shopping and late nights with his friends. He missed being able to make decisions for himself.

“What else does obedience entail?” Kit asked, spitting the word obedience as if it was some monstrous creature.

Ambrose’s eyes shined a little at the question. “It means that when I do come and see you, you drop everything. You can still fight me, still defy me, curse me out do whatever you need to — but you simply accept it.”

Kit worried his bottom lip, eyes going faraway as he considered Ambrose’s proposal. Ambrose stepped away again, turning to lean against the opposite counter in the kitchenette. He crossed his arms over his chest again, regarding Kit as he mulled everything over.

“I can see you’re conflicted, Kit, so let me sweeten the deal,” that got Kit’s hesitant eyes back on Ambrose. “If you agree to this, I won’t attack another Hero.”

It seemed as if all air left Kit’s lungs, like an anvil had fallen from the sky and landed on Kit’s shoulders weighing them down suddenly. This was Ambrose’s ultimate cruelty. Appealing to Kit’s heroic nature, forcing him to be a martyr and shoulder the burden of Ambrose’s torment to save other heroes, the people he loves. His friends, hell, at this point his family.

Kit swallowed hard. He didn’t want to be heroic, he didn’t want to shoulder this unfair burden. He didn’t want to protect everyone from this torture, he wanted… he just wanted to be left alone.

If you agree to this, I won’t attack another hero.

Which really was a double edged sword.

If you don’t agree to this, I will attack another hero. Take another Hero hostage, do everything I’ve done to you and more. Break them, and when they break I will let you know that it’s all because you didn’t take my deal. Then Ambrose would probably present the deal to Kit again and Kit would take it, the guilt forcing his hand.

“I can have a normal life?” Kit asked, not meeting Ambrose’s gaze.

“Semi-normal, but I can’t see why not,” Ambrose replied.

“And I’m guessing I can’t tell anyone about our little arrangement?” Kit asked, voice mutinous. Ambrose stepped closer and put a hand on Kit’s shoulder. Kit suppressed a flinch, he hated Ambrose touching him. Kit glared up at Ambrose.

“If you like I can make you forget about it all until you see my face, then you could really live a life.”

“In ignorance,” Kit spat, batting Ambrose’a hand away. “No thanks. I’d rather know what’s coming than be caught unaware again.”

Ambrose smirked. “Fine by me.”

Kit licked his lips, passing his coffee cup into his left hand before extending his right to Ambrose. “Fine then. Deal.”

“Ah,” Ambrose said, holding up a finger, “I think we should try this out before you accept.”

Kit’s eyes narrowed and let out a soft tch of disapproval. He knew Ambrose wasn’t going to make it as easy as he made it out to be.

“You’re already reneging on your deal,” Kit said, looking to the side and taking a long, slow sip of his coffee. Ambrose stepped back again to lean against the opposite counter.

“I’m not, just consider this a test,” said Ambrose thoughtfully, rolling the words around his mouth thoughtfully before speaking. Kit rolled his eyes and set his mug down on the countertop with a dull thud.

He shrugged his shoulders and said: “fine. What do you want me to do?”

Ambrose’s eyes lit up in that eerie way they did when he got an awful idea to further humiliate or caused Kit pain.

“Let’s start with something easy,” said Ambrose simply, slipping his hands into his trouser pockets. “How about… sit?”

Kit scoffed and walked towards the chair beside the table. Ambrose’s voice stopped him again with a soft, “Ah.”

“What?” Kit demanded. “You said sit. I’m going to sit.”

“I didn’t say sit on a chair, Mallory.”

Kit’s eyes burned as well as the tips of his ears, shoulders bunched up. He clenched his fists at his sides and turned to face Ambrose again.

“What? You want me to sit on the ground? Like a dog?”

“Your words,” said Ambrose with an innocent smile. “Not mine.”

Kit grit his teeth, glaring up at Ambrose and keeping eye contact as he bent his knee and dropped to the ground. He planted his butt firmly on the ground and crossed his legs.

“Now,” Kit spat. “Happy?”

“Ecstatic.”

“Good,” said Kit, moving to get to his feet again. Ambrose pressed a boot down on Kit’s ankle to stop him from getting up. Kit clenched his fists tight but settled himself back onto the ground.

“I didn’t say you could get up, Mallory,” Ambrose chides, removing his foot from Kit’s ankle.

Kit crossed his arms across his chest in a huff like a child throwing a tantrum but he didn’t care. He didn’t care what Ambrose thought of him.

“You’re such a dick,” said Kit, grumpy.

“Look at you, you’re adorable. Are you pouting?”

Kit bared his teeth up at Ambrose in reply. “Okay, you can stand up now,” said Ambrose.

Kit scoffed and remained stubbornly on the floor. “Fuck you.”

Ambrose shrugged theatrically. “Fine, I guess I was expecting too much of you when I proposed my deal.”

An obvious ploy for Kit to protest, but still Kit couldn’t do anything but protest. The thought of freedom… it was too enticing to say no to.

“Wait,” Kit grumbled, casting his eyes to the floor as his mind screamed at him for obeying Ambrose at all. Of his own free will!“Just… wait.”

Kit swallowed hard and got to his feet, still not meeting Ambrose’s hungry stare. “Kit,” Ambrose said, but Kit still didn’t look at him.

“Kit, look at me.”

Kit felt his blood flood his cheeks with humiliation as he raised his head to meet Ambrose’s gaze. His hands were shaking, with anger or frustration or shame Kit didn’t know, but he knew they were shaking and that he didn’t want them to.

“Show me your scars,” said Ambrose.

Kit took a step backwards, as if Ambrose had just assaulted him. His lips curled up and he cut his hand through the air as if to say enough.

“No,” Kit said, voice thick. “No.”

Ambrose tilted his head to the side. “Will I have to say everything twice, Mallory?”

“You are fucking loving this aren’t you?” Kit hissed, throwing his hands up in a helpless sort of gesture. “Whether I agree to your deal or not it doesn’t matter because you still get to hurt me like this. You’re fucking sick. You disgust me.”

Ambrose stared at Kit’s emotional outburst like one would judging the weather from their bedroom window in the morning. “Do I have to say it again, or are you flat out refusing?”

“Fine!” Kit snapped, voice higher, almost hysterical. Kit reached up to grab the collar of his shirt and hoisted it over his head to reveal his back, not taking it off all the way. He turned his back to Ambrose and said: “that one on my left shoulder? That’s from a nasty run in with Other Villain when Another Hero called for aid on a mission. I got it from his fucking scythe if you can believe it—”

“That’s not what I meant—”

“Here,” said Kit, turning again and shrugging his shirt back on before lifting the bottom of it to reveal the scar just above his hip. It wasn’t one but three. “Villain’s whip,” Kit told Ambrose. “It stung like a bitch but she only ever caught me once with it.”

Kit flung his shirt down and grinned at Ambrose. “There, Rosy. I showed you my scars. I obeyed your fucking command. Are you happy?”

Ambrose hummed in the back of his throat. “We must be spending too much time together, Mallory. You’re starting to understand the power of words.”

Kit’s eyes narrowed into slits. “You learn to when your freedom is limited by them.”

Ambrose didn’t say anything for a moment. He pursed his lips together, taking his hands from his pockets.

“Perhaps the deal was too premature,” Ambrose said. Kit’s heart skipped a beat in his chest, his throat suddenly dry at the prospect of losing his chance at a semi-normal life again. “I’m sorry Kit,” said Ambrose. He meant it too, because he turned to go but Kit’s hand shot out before he could stop himself and grabbed Ambrose’s arm stopping him from leaving.

“Kit?” Ambrose asked, looking down at the hand on his arm then at Kit’s face which was hidden behind his hair, his head tilted down.

“Okay,” Kit whispered. “I’ll show you… you just… you have to use the right words.”

Ambrose stiffened under Kit. “Which are?”

“You said show me your scars. The scars on my arm? They’re not mine,” Kit continued in that same grave, self-hating voice. He raised his head to meet Ambrose’s black eyes with his own haunted gaze. “They’re yours. I didn’t earn them, they mean nothing to me. My scars are mine, wholly mine. I got them.”

Kit ignored the way his voice cracked and let Ambrose go, rolling up his sleeve. “Not these. I didn’t get these, they were forced on me, much like you are. So there. Have I passed your fucking obedience training, or do you want me to bark?”

Ambrose couldn’t help but be a little impressed at Kit’s speech. He didn’t even look down at Kit’s arms the whole time that Kit spoke. He was too focused on the spark of defiance that defined Kit in his mind. The way it left a strange sort of glow to Kit’s features, made them brighter, more animated and life like. As if fighting back the rage he wanted to scream at Ambrose was going to energise other parts of his body.

He didn’t tremble once. He didn’t shake. Everything he said he was certain of, and he didn’t fear any retribution because of it. Ambrose wanted to see more of it, not less, and he feared if he kept Kit isolated and locked away from life forever that spark would dwindle down into nothing. He could search the entire planet ten times over and never find something like it again.

Ambrose smiled. “No Kit. You proved that you can do what you say.”

Kit’s eyes went to Ambrose’s with that same delicious conviction. Ambrose stuck his hand out and Kit shook it.

“I think we have a deal.”

*~*~*~*~*

Continued here

The Orphanage roll call (tag-list, lmk if you wanna be added or removed <3 ): - @nameless-beanie @andithewhumper @annablogsposts @whumpasaurus101 @0eggdealer @rejectedbytheempty @sleepy-pearl @n3rv0usn0v4 @whumpatize-me-captain @sunshiline-writes @burningkittypoet @honeyed-euphrates @sacredwrath @theonewithallthefixations @acer-gaysimpstuff @m3rakii @xxgalgurlxx @princess-bubble-blossom @blood-enthusiast @steh-lar-uh-nuhs @andtheysaidspeaknoww @dutifullykrispyland

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