#whumpblr

[whump-kia]

the love of crafting intricate plots to add tension and stakes to my whump fics vs the need to beat the ever-living shit out of blorbo immediately is the culprit of all my woes ever

[fantasywhumpenthusiast]

TW: mentions of torture

Imagine a Whumpee who uses some sort of metal weapon. After getting captured, the Whumper melts it down into a collar and chains

“Well, I figured you didn’t need this anymore, so I took the liberty to change it into something more useful”

[allthingswhumpyandangsty]

❝you fucking pathetic sewer rat,❞ me to my favorite fictional man, with profound love and affection

[whumpingaround]

Thinking about a whumpee falling asleep on someone’s shoulder as that person is talking about something. Like imagine when they’re done talking and they find a sleepy lil bean slumped against their shoulder. And then like checking to see if they’re alright but not wanting to wake them. yes. good shit.

[the-bar-sinister]

Whumper who is a smoker

Whumper who enjoys a smoke after ‘working on’ their whumpee.

Whumper who sits in a captive whumpee’s room and smokes.

Whumper who blows smoke in their whumee’s face.

Whumper who leaves a pack of cigarettes on the same table with the tools they use on whumpee.

Whumper who offers whumpee a smoke.

Whumper who smokes big, fat, smelly cigars.

Whumper who smokes a specific brand of cigarettes that their whumpee will later associate the smell of with them.

Whumper who burns whumpee with the tip of their cigarette or cigar.

Whumper who sets their whumpee on fire and lights a smoke off of them.

Whumper who always talks about quitting, and no one is sure if they mean the cigarettes or the whump.

[whumpprentice]

Whumpee who keeps forgetting they're injured. Keeps tearing their stitches or reopening a wound not because they're stubborn but because they really can't process that something Bad happened

[abhainnwhump]

Caretaker is a new security worker at a prison. They want to help protect the peace. One day, as they're working as nightguard, they lean against a wall, triggering a secret door. They walk inside and find a stairs leading deep underground. Why would this be hidden? Caretaker worries as they walk down, holding a flashlight.

They find a cell at the bottom of the pitch black stair case. Inside, an immortal Whumpee has given up on life. They've been trapped down there for centuries with no light, no food, and no socialization. While they can't die, their body and mind rots away, leaving only a husk of a person. Caretaker has a million questions, but one lingers in their mind.

Should they help them?

[distracted-obsessions]

Royal Whumpee has always been and always will be one of my favorites. Everyone hates them because why should they get to stay up in the bright palace? They're on the brink of war and yet the Royal is off at parties, laughing with the enemy. Embargos are starving the people and the Royal is having a feast. Most people can't afford to clothe themselves in anything other than rags and the Royal has servants upon servants to dress him in the morning. They wouldn't last a day out here in the real world.

Of course, only their closest servant knows that they haven't slept or eaten in days and if you entered their room, you would find them at their desk, surrounded by crumbled paper and letters, bargaining away their soul just for a few years of peace for their subjects, willing to do anything just to lift the embargo, greeting every request for them to rest or eat with a simple, "do not disturb my circles."

[unforgivenn]

The cold concrete floor sent shivers up Whumpee's spine as they lay there, wrists bound and heart pounding. Whumper's footsteps echoed in the dimly lit room, each step drawing closer, like the slow approach of impending doom.

"You thought you could escape," Whumper's voice dripped with malice, sending a chill down Whumpee's spine. "But you forget, I always find my prey."

Whumpee's breath hitched as Whumper crouched down beside them, a twisted grin etched on their face. The glint of a knife caught the faint light, sending a wave of terror through Whumpee's veins.

"I'm going to enjoy this," Whumper whispered, their breath hot against Whumpee's ear.

Fear consumed Whumpee as Whumper's hand tightened around the handle of the knife, anticipation hanging heavy in the air. In that moment, Whumpee knew there was no escape, only the icy grip of despair tightening around them, suffocating any hope of salvation.

[idek-anymore-what-the-heck]

Whump idea- Zip Ties

- zip ties around the wrists (too tight ofc)

- zip ties connecting whumpee to something else (like a bed post or something) so it’s not chains but instead plastic which is somehow worse

- zip ties around the neck (if one doesn’t fit then just put two together) (if they struggle then whumper pulls it tighter)

- zip ties around as much of them as possible because it’s cheap and a good torture method

-just me thinking about someone with their fingers zip tied together or not even securing something just putting zip ties around them because they can squeeze it as tight as they want

Loving the zip ties.

[stagelightwhump]

Whumpee with a mind control collar that only activates for Whumper's voice.

Whumpee learning to associate Whumper's voice with a complete and total loss of control.

Whumpee who feels uncomfortable and stifled, post rescue, if they have to wear anything around their neck.

Whumpee who, upon hearing Whumper's voice in public one day, mentally shuts down, wrenches themself away from Caretaker, and throws themself at Whumper's feet like they'd been trained to.

[fantasywhumpenthusiast]

TW: mentions of torture

A Caretaker who is not a good person. One who has killed, or who even has experience with torture themself. But yet when they see the Whumpee, their only instinct is to protect them. If anyone even looks at Whumpee wrong, Caretaker will make sure they regret it. And the only hope the Whumper has is that the Caretaker will accidentally kill them quickly.

[allthingswhumpyandangsty]

character A and character B are enemies who are in fact idiots in love (but they’re such idiots they don’t know the feelings are mutual). one of them is drunk, so the other has to be sober in order to look after them. suddenly the drunk one prompts their enemy to play two truths and a lie with them. it’s fine, it’s just a silly game.

until one of the 3 choices provided is an outright love confession.

and of course, that damn confession isn’t the lie.

read a fic with this prompt here

[not-a-space-alien]

K&J x MMSS 4: Valen & Jim Part 5B

Part 5 of the "B side" universe for AU4. You can check chapter 4B for clarification on what this means if you're lost, lol.

K&J masterlist

MMSS masterlist

K&J x MMSS crossover masterlist

To be added to the taglist, contact @whumpsday

Warnings: Blood, aftermath of torture, suicide attempt

***

Jim comes down the next day with a light knock on the wall. "Valen? How're you doing?" He hopes Valen's healed some. That maybe the blood that's made him such a desirable victim finally did some good. "You sleep well?"

Valen pokes his head out from under the blanket sleepily.  He is starting to look a bit better.  He nods fuzzily, not coming out from his nest.

"Good, good. I'm real glad. Lookin' better, too. You'll be all better in no time. So, my sister and her friend are both coming over today to give you some more blood, do you remember them? From when you dropped me off?" Jim's hoping the fact that Valen knows they're hunters won't scare him, but he's met them before and they didn't hurt him, so hopefully it'll be okay.

Valen perks up.  More blood?  Truthfully, no, he doesn't remember them, but he's so excited about getting more blood.  He nods, eyes shining.  Yes, more blood, please.

"Great! How about in the meantime, you can grab a bath, and I'll bandage up whatever's still not feeling great. Liz is also gonna take all the silver shit and the outside lock off the door, so you won't have to worry about that while you're staying here. You wanna grab your other clothes and come upstairs? I already closed all the blinds and curtains last night." Jim informs him.

Valen is feeling so much more hopeful than last night.  He's rested, and fed--even if he probably shouldn't have done that part, and he has clothes, and oh, he gets to take a bath.  He still can't move very fast, but he excitedly gets up to follow Jim upstairs.

Jim makes sure to grab the writing things before leading Valen up to the bathroom. "Alright, here we are. I'm leaving your writing stuff right out here so you can grab it on your way out. Come out to the living room whenever you're done." He's so glad Valen seems to be in better spirits today.

Valen has a real bath, his first in years.  Not a freezing cold spraydown with a hose.  It's wonderful and warm, and he gets himself clean.  He's starting to let himself believe that maybe good things can happen to him again.  He washes his raw face and bloody, skinned wrists gently.

When he's done, he steps out of the tub and pats himself dry with the towel provided, then dresses himself.  They're his clothes.  It's grounding and humanizing in a way he hadn't thought of.  They're his clothes, from the before times, being given back to him, to pull him back up to earth.  These are Valen's clothes, and he's wearing them, so he must be Valen.

Valen combs his wet hair with his fingers, looking at himself in the mirror, and goes out into the living room.

"Looking awesome, bud. C'mon and let's get you wrapped up." Jim pats the couch, gauze already in hand. "Just your face and your wrists, or anything else too?"

Valen pats himself down, but they'd been leaving him fresh for his new warden, so his wrists and face are pretty much the only things that need to be wrapped up.  The only other thing that hurts currently is his stomach, still far too hungry to be comfortable, but even that's lessening.

Valen sits down on the couch, touching his face, his wrists, and then giving a thumbs up.  He wants to smile, but with the state of his face, that would probably just look worse, if anything.

"Gotcha." Jim gently bandages both, making sure to leave an opening for Valen's mouth so he can eat later. When was the last time Valen was touched gently? He knows how it feels to ache for the kind touch of another person. "Do you think you could handle a hug?" he asks when he's done, knowing it might be pushing it in his starved state.

Valen's watery eyes light up.  A hug, a hug, yes, yes, yes.  He wants one so bad.  He can't bite if he wants the muzzle to stay off, he has to not bite.  He vibrates on the couch, extending his arms feebly.  Yes, yes, please, hug, hug.

Jim is scared. Valen may mean well, but he's also a vampire, and being bitten on the wrist was bad enough. But he needs to give his guy a hug so bad. He reminds himself he can always push Valen away if he needs to, like he did yesterday. This isn't Kane. He's had 10 years to get over it, he should be better by now.

He enters Valen's arms, wrapping his own around his thin frame in a warm embrace. "I've got you. Everything's gonna be okay. Promise."

Thank you, thank you, thank you.  He leans into the hug, vibrating, excited.  Jim is so warm, and so welcoming, and so soft, and so vulnerable, and so, so, so delicious-smelling-

Before he even realizes what he's doing, he's bitten down in the crook of Jim's neck.  As soon as his mouth floods with the taste of blood once again, he remembers he has to not bite and pulls away, falling off the couch and to the floor, whining.

Jim freezes up and goes quiet again. It's on the wrong side, because he would never let anyone's face get close to his scar, and the fabric of his turtleneck wets with blood. He trembles and cries, sitting there on the couch completely tense, letting out soft sobs.

Valen sobs too.  I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry.  Stupid, stupid, stupid.  He'd even fed already, yesterday, and he still hadn't been able to resist biting.  He's ruined it, and maybe he'll be punished, but even worse, he probably won't be hugged again.  He half-stumbles, half-crawls over to where the writing materials are and quickly scribbles out I'm sorry, and holds it up to Jim.  He stays on his knees, holding it in front of his face with trembling hands.

Jim takes a good minute to get to a state where he can respond. It helps that he was expecting this might be a possibility, it's not out of the blue like the first one. He took a risk and it failed.

He reminds himself he's okay. He's not very hurt. He's not food, Valen stopped, he's not being taken back. It was just a bite. He used to do this every day and it was worse, then.

He takes a deep breath and looks over to Valen, crying holding up a sign reading I'm sorry with shaking hands.

"It's- it's not your fault." Jim says quietly. "B-bad call. On me. I'm just gonna change shirts and take a breather real quick, okay?" He grabs the medical supplies he'd just used on Valen and scurries away to his bedroom.

Valen watches him go with despair.  Everything had been going so well.  Jim said it's not his fault, but his sister is coming over, and maybe she and her friend won't be so nonchalant.  And he wouldn't get any more hugs, now.

Still crying, he pulls the blanket off the back of the couch and pulls it over himself, curling up in a ball and hiding himself under a nearby chair.

Jim dresses the wound, changes his shirt, and tries his best to calm down. He returns downstairs about 10 minutes later, much more calm. He got bit and everything's still okay.

It's apparent that Valen has not spent their time apart calming down. Jim sits back on the couch. "Hey, you're okay, Valen. Everything's still okay. I'm not gonna hurt you. You can stay there if it makes you feel safer, but nothing bad's gonna happen if you come out. We're all good. More than good."

Valen peeks out from the blanket.  Jim looks okay.  He crawls over to the coffee table, taking his pencil in an unsteady hand and writing Thank you for the hug I hope we can hug again sometime when it's safe and then sliding it over to Jim.  He then crawls back under the chair, not panicking or trembling, but still feeling more secure balled up and tucked away

"Yeah. Yeah, man, just, I'm gonna need a little. You know what, though? Laken loves hugs. Maybe you can ask them for one after you feed from them." Jim suggests. "Sorry for freaking out. I've just got baggage about bites."

He smiles a little, remembering something. "You know, when you picked me up that day, I thought for a minute you were gonna make me your bloodbag. Y'know, before that was cleared up. And you know what I thought about it? Honest to god? 'Oh, this won't be so bad.' You were so nice that was what I thought about potentially being kidnapped a second time."

Valen lowers the blanket from his head, eyebrows raised.  Really?  Maybe Valen really had used to be a really nice person, one who could hug people without biting.  He mourns the loss, averting his eyes, keeping them on Jim's feet.

Valen hears them approaching before Jim does, two humans. There's a knock.

"That's gotta be them." Jim says as he gets up to answer the door. He makes sure the sun won't shine near Valen before opening it all the way.

After they all exchange greetings, Liz asks, "Where is he?"

"Hiding under the chair. He's real easily spooked. Be gentle with him." Jim says. "C'mon in. Valen, you wanna come out? Liz and Laken are gonna give you some blood."

Valen crawls out tentatively.  There being multiple humans in the room is scary, and he barely remembers these new ones.  He'd been scared of Jim before, but now that he's more scared of the newcomers, Jim feels very safe.  Valen kneels behind Jim's calves, poking his head out from behind the human to look at Liz and Laken.  But not making eye contact.  No, never eye contact.

"Hi, Valen." Liz says softly, heartbroken by the sight before her. Hunters did this. To Valen, of all vampires. The one who gave her her brother back. She speaks as if Valen will break if she talks too loudly. "I'm Liz, if you remember. It's nice to see you again. I wish it were under better circumstances. How are you feeling?"

"Sup." Laken adds with a friendly wave. "I'm Laken, Liz's hunting partner. You ready to get your blood on?"

Valen looks at Liz's hands, which is as close as he dares get to the face, and nods when she asks him how he's feeling.

You ready to get your blood on?  Why can't these humans just talk normally, so he doesn't have to anxiously second-guess what they mean?  Laken means they're going to feed him, right?  That's right, they'd said they were going to give him more blood, right?

He moves himself up into a crouching position, daring to look a little excited.

Wait, back up.  His sluggish brain hadn’t processed what they were saying.

A haze falls over Valen's brain as he looks at Laken again, processing what they’re saying.  Hunting partner, they'd said hunting partner, right?  Are...Are Liz and Laken vampire hunters?

Then he does remember that, fuzzily, that when he'd come to hand Jim off, Liz and Laken and two other vampire hunters had been there.  Hunters, hunters, hunters, that's right, they're hunters.

He drops back down onto all fours, cowering behind Jim and whining in fear.  Jim will protect him, right?  Jim said he wouldn't hurt him.

"Oh, hey, Valen, you're okay. You already knew that, you said you remembered them?" Jim says, confused.

Liz goes to step forward, but Laken grabs her hand and shakes their head. "Space."

Liz nods, staying where she is as she speaks to Valen. "We're not going to hurt you. You- I owe you everything, Valen. You gave me my family back. Plus, what those sorry excuses for hunters did would be fucked up either way. You're safe here."

"It's all good, man. You seemed pretty excited about blood, right? I'll go first." Laken offers, crouching and holding their arm out to Valen. "Don't even worry about it."

Is Laken telling him to bite them?  That can't be right.  They're hunters.  Hunters, hunters, hunters.  He tries to listen to what Liz is kindly saying about owing him, but it feels like he's scrambling to try and climb a slippery staircase to fight upstream and internalize what she's saying.  His eyes dilate with fear as Laken holds their arm out to him, and he shuffles backwards a little bit.

He gropes at the table for his notepad and pen, and he quickly scribbles out Biting is bad I won't bite again I'm sorry I won't bite again Im sorry I know better, underlining and circling words and phrases seemingly randomly to emphasize.

"No, Valen, it's okay. You've got permission this time, it's fine." Jim assures.

Liz puts 2 and 2 together from the this time, her eyebrows raising. "He bit you?"

"Yeah, it's not a big deal. He's trying his best." Jim smiles down at Valen. "No one's mad at you."

"Yeah, c'mon. I wouldn't pull the rug out from under you like that. You can go ahead." Laken encourages.

"It's allowed." Jim adds.

Valen presses himself into the wall away from Laken, shaking with terror, still looking at Liz, that surprised He bit you? still hanging threateningly in the air in his mind.

"Why don't you guys give us a minute? Maybe you can go work on the door?" Jim suggests.

"Alright." Liz agrees, looking at Valen sadly. "Whenever you're ready. None of us are gonna hurt you."

The two of them head to the basement to start removing all the silver from the door.

Jim crouches by Valen. "What do you want, bud? You're not a prisoner anymore, it's up to you now. How can we help?"

He fumbles with the pen, picks it back up, and writes.  Liz is angry at me for biting you?

"No, she's not angry. She was just surprised. She knows you didn't mean to. Do you want me to check?" Jim asks. He'd been lying about it being not a big deal, but he's sure Liz got the message: act like it's not a big deal. It was an accident, after all.

Valen shakes in a heap on the ground.  No way, there's no way a hunter would see what Valen did to Jim, biting him so severely he almost fainted, and think it wasn't a big deal.  Why wouldn't Liz be angry?  She must be angry.  He's going to be punished, he always is.  He's going to fuck up badly enough to be sent back to that hell eventually, he knows he will, no, he already did, he's just waiting for them to realize, realize he deserves pain and pain and pain, never ending ever ever.

He grasps the notepad firmly and writes Please kill me, fat tears rolling down his cheeks and wetting the bandages.

Jim reads the note and gives a heavy exhale, sitting next to Valen so he's against the wall, too. "No, man. I'm not gonna kill you. You wanna die 'cause you're scared? Is that it?"

He whimpers and writes:  I can't take any more pain.

"No more pain. How about that? It's over. It's really, really over, I promise. I'm not gonna hurt you, Liz and Laken aren't either. All we wanna do is see you safe and healthy. No pain." Jim says.

Maybe Valen will believe this eventually, if Jim just repeats it enough, but he can't right now.  He just can't.  His imagination races.  He can picture so, so many ways this could go wrong.  He can't do this anymore.  He can't keep worrying and trying to figure out how to handle things, how to help himself.  Jim and Liz and Laken are telling him they're trying to help him, but all he can feel is the dread of being the center of attention of a group of humans, of hunters.  What hope does he have?

Jim's not going to kill him.  He has to do it himself.  He drags himself over to the chair he'd been hiding under before, wrapping his weak hands around the leg to try and snap it off to fashion a wooden stake, still weeping.

"Hey, fuck, nonono don't." Jim removes Valen's hands from the chair, holding them gently in his own. "How about this. Give it one month." By that time, Valen will have been back home in vampire territory for weeks. He'll probably feel a lot safer, and Jim won't be able to stop him anyway. "Can you do that, you think? Give life as a free man a shot for one month?"

Valen keeps his eyes on the wooden chair.  How does Jim expect him to believe he's a free man?  How does Jim expect him to believe he'll be able to last an entire month without pain, without messing up, without biting, without getting trapped back somewhere where he won't get this opportunity again?  He tries to go for the chair again, more feebly this time, knowing he can't really fight Jim off.  Why hadn't he just waited until later when he was alone and could get away with it?

"Valen, please." Jim doesn't let go of Valen's hands. "Just, just give it a shot. Please? I promise nothing bad's gonna happen. I won't let anyone hurt you, swear on my life. I know you've been through hell, but it's really, really over, I promise. I can't- you know I can't watch you every second, so just, please. It'll be okay, I'll make sure."

Valen shakes in Jim's hands, hanging his head and letting his hair fall in his face.

"I bet you'll feel a lot better with some food in you. It's not gonna fix everything, but everyone feels better after eating. Nothing bad happened to you when you bit me, right? And this is with permission. Or if you want, maybe they can get the blood in a cup or bowl or something for you? What sounds good?" Jim asks, releasing Valen's hands so he can write.

Valen wipes his eye, trying to make his swimming brain comprehend what Jim is saying.  A cup, a cup is good, yes.  This way he doesn't bite.  He writes down, Biting is bad.  A cup sounds good.

"Cup it is, then. You're gonna be just fine." Jim doesn't want to leave Valen alone after his very recent suicide attempt, so instead of going to get Liz and Laken, he calls out. "Hey guys! Valen's ready to eat!"

Laken appears out of the hall. "Alright! Order up."

"Can you try and get it in a cup for him? He's nervous about biting." Jim says.

"Sure thing." Laken gives Valen a thumbs-up.

Valen is starting to come down from the despair a little.  He's getting a thumbs-up.  That's good.  He gives a little whine and lowers himself down, his head on Jim's leg.

Jim cards a hand through Valen's hair while Laken goes to the kitchen. "You're okay. Everything's gonna be fine."

After about a minute, the smell of blood emanates from the kitchen.

Valen perks up at the smell, shaking like an excited dog.  He crawls forward, wringing his hands and leaning towards the kitchen door expectantly.

Jim follows behind him a bit nervously, but looks away from where Laken is draining blood into a mug.

Laken smiles. "Just got started getting this for you. If you changed your mind and wanna nibble, that's cool too." they say, letting their blood trickle into the mug.

Valen stays kneeling on the floor, clearly trying to wrangle the excitement off his face, trying not to hope, but he's aimlessly flapping his hands with excitement, trying to stay still, trying to stay on the floor and wait for Laken to bring it over, trying to control himself.

Laken keeps going until the cup's got a good amount in it, then slaps a large band-aid they had ready over their arm and brings the mug over. "Cuppa Laken, hope you enjoy." they say with a grin.

Valen stands and holds his hands out eagerly to take the cup from Laken as soon as it's within grabbing range, whining as he downs the cup.  He keeps it over his mouth as the remnants dribble down, then he eagerly lowers it down and swipes his finger on the inside of the cup to lick off the remaining blood.  He holds the cup when he's done, not daring to look at Laken, just looking down into the cup.

"Yay, I'm delicious." Laken says with a lighthearted laugh.

Jim rubs Valen's back. He's glad Valen is finally feeding, and that he doesn't have to be the one to provide it. Hopefully he'll be well again soon. "You feel a little better now? Still got a refill waiting, too."

Valen's gaze snaps back up, excitement returning, vibrating.  A refill, he gets a refill?

He looks to Laken, then to Jim, and accidentally makes eye contact, then whines and lowers his eyes back down to Jim's feet.

"I'll go get Liz." Laken says, patting Valen on the shoulder and heading off.

"You're doing great. See, this isn't so bad, right? Everything's okay now." Jim knows full well that everything doesn't just become okay after you escape. But it definitely gets a hell of a lot better.

Liz joins them. "Door's about halfway done. Stuff's easier to take off than to put on. Sorry if we scared you earlier, Valen."

Valen nods, eyes wide.  She's apologizing to him.  That seems wrong.  He should always be apologizing to everyone else ever, for existing.

Liz takes the mug, drains blood into it in a similar fashion, and hands it back. Jim is tenser this time. This entire feeding endeavor is a little much for him, but he doesn't want to leave Valen alone, since Valen seems comforted by his presence.

"Here you go. Hope this is enough." Liz says, pressing the mug back into his hands.

Valen squirms excitedly while Liz prepares the blood for him.  He downs the second mug the same way as the first, licking the inside clean.  He retrieves his writing utensils and writes Thank you, showing it to Liz and Laken.

"You're welcome." Liz says with a smile, while Laken gives a "No problem."

"You still want a hug?" Jim asks quietly. "I'm still uh, taking a break from 'em, but Liz and Laken would probably both be down."

Just as Valen had started to calm down again, his interest is once again piqued, giving an excited little jump, starting forward towards them then stepping back, rocking from foot to foot, nodding vigorously.

"Aw, c'mere!" Laken wraps their arms around him in a warm embrace. Liz laughs and joins in, giving him a group hug. Jim declines to join in, but he does ruffle Valen's hair.Valen starts crying again, and for the first time in forever, they're happy tears.  He holds the hug for an absurdly long time.  It's okay, he's okay, there are people who care about him and want him to feel okay and will hug him.  It's almost inconceivable.

***

@barebarb

@cc1010foxy

@emcscared-whumps

@gt-daboss

@hurtpluscomfort

@jakersdaboss

@lolrpop

@melancholy-in-the-morning

@pigeonwhumps

@secretwhumplair

@some-thrilling-heroics

@starfields08000

@t0rture-me

@thecyrulik

@thejinglingcourtjester

@vehan-tikkun-olam-and-stuff

@whuarri

@whump-cravings

@whump-my-heart-away

@whumpycries

@wolfeyedwitch

@whump-addict

@why-not-ask-me-a-better-question

[the-bar-sinister]

Whumper cutting into whumpee.

Watching the flesh part under the tip of their blade like cloth coming undone.

The red beads of blood emerging from the wound and spilling forth over skin.

The panting breath and agonized sounds of whumpee's pain.

Whumpee's shuddering and struggles.

The power in the act of violence. The beauty.

[chaotic-orphan]

Recapture

Hello! I’m sorry I have been absent, but the next two weeks are my exam times and I most likely won’t be active, but good news is that my exams finish on the 17th! Which means a whole summer of more writing!! Thank you for being patient and here’s a lil whump drabble to scratch that itch

*~*~*~*~*

Caretaker was dragged through the camp struggling like a worm on a hook. Two of Whumper’s men stood on either side of them, marching Caretaker by their arms to Whumper. Caretaker’s hands were zip-tied awkwardly behind their back, and no matter which way they moved their wrists the plastic cut into them sharply.

Caretaker saw Whumper before they reached their tent. Slightly larger than most, big enough to hold a cot and a space for tactics. Whumper’s war room. Whumper’s hair shone like a star in the darkest night’s sky, the moonlight reflecting off of the silvery strands. It always looked a little off, a little too unreal. A little too beautiful.

Whumper smiled when they saw Caretaker being dragged towards them, dismissing the people they were talking with to greet Caretaker with open arms. Literally.

“Caretaker,” they said, voice happy and light. “I know it’s only been a few hours, but I must say I missed you.”

“Yeah, well,” Caretaker replied, their voice coming out weaker than they would’ve liked. “You’re like a rash I can’t get rid of.”

Whumper’s eyes widened slightly as they glanced over Caretaker’s head to see if there would be another in zip-ties like Caretaker. Looking for Whumpee. Then they fell to one of the guards holding Caretaker. Without a command, the two guards threw Caretaker to the ground. Their hands shot out to catch themselves but caught on the zip-ties, and the best Caretaker could do to not eat a face full of dirt was to let their shoulder take the brunt of the impact.

“Caretaker, Caretaker, Caretaker,” Whumper said with a long sigh. Caretaker watched Whumper’s shiny boots draw closer to them. Then swing back out of sight swiftly. Caretaker barely had enough time to catch their breath before it was forced out of them, let alone try and turn away as a gleaming boot came down in a flash. It hit their ribs and Caretaker gasped, curling into a ball but it didn’t stop the next kick, or the next, or the next.

Whumper’s boots stopped in front of Caretaker’s eyes. Whumper sighed above them, and crouched down. Leather creaked as Whumper ran their fingers through Caretaker’s hair and made a fist before yanking. Caretaker cried out as Whumper craned Caretaker’s head back until they were looking into Whumper’s cold, impassive face.

Whumper tilted their head to the side. “Where’s my favourite pet, hmm? Where did you leave them?”

“I don’t know where they are,” Caretaker spat. “I just know they’re far away from you.”

Whumper’s smile could freeze hell, and seeing it sent shivers down Caretaker’s spine. Whumper released Caretaker’s hair and pushed them onto their back, leaning a knee down on Caretaker’s chest.

“That’s not the answer I want to hear, Caretaker.”

“Fuck you!” Caretaker ground out, then let out a sharp cry after Whumper punched them in the face. Their head smacked back off the dirt ground of the camp and Caretaker felt a headache creep into their skull.

For a long moment, Whumper just stared down at Caretaker, the same cold smile on his lips. Then Whumper got to his feet and waved his hand at Caretaker. Caretaker didn’t have to wait long to know what that gesture meant before the guards were taking his arms again and yanking him up.

Caretaker kicked out at them, catching one of them on their hip and turning to twist out of the other’s grip. The other yanked Caretaker towards them, throwing them off balance. Before they managed to correct it the guard they kicked had their hands on Caretaker’s elbow again and between them they managed to subdue a feral, cursing Caretaker.

Caretaker stopped struggling when their eyes were enthralled by Whumper’s, as if they were caught in a snare. It made their blood run cold. Not Whumper’s eyes or cold smile, but his current bare index finger and thumb that was removing their remaining glove from their hand.

“Caretaker…” Whumper said with a sigh. “I really hate to do this, especially to you. You’re my— you were my closest friend. You and I were like family.”

Caretaker fought to urge to try and back up in the guards hold. Everything in their body screamed at them to flee. To run, but they forced themselves to remain in place.

“We were friends before you needed goons to do your dirty work for you.”

Whumper’s eyes flashed with amusement as they advanced on Caretaker, reaching forward and ignoring Caretaker’s flinch, stroked the back of their knuckle along Caretaker’s jaw. Something so familiar about it broke Caretaker’s heart, but only now did they see the manic possession Whumper mistook for love in their eyes.

“That’s right, we were. Back when you were the one to do my dirty work for me, right?”

Caretaker swallowed the lump in their throat, or tried to, because it was still lodged there.

“Then you had to go and get noble, Caretaker. All for a pathetic nobody who wouldn’t return the favour.”

“I’d do it again.” It was a confession.

Whumper had the gall to look a little sad as they said softly: “I know. And you know what I must do now.”

Caretaker tried not to cry. They wanted to greet their maker with dignity. “I do.”

Whumper steeled their expression, jaw clenching, moulding their face as far to impassive as they could.

“For what it’s worth,” Caretaker said softly, their voice scratchy as if they had just swallowed sand. “You were my fiercest friend too. I don’t regret what I did, but I’m sorry I had to betray you.”

Whumper’s stoic expression cracked a little. In their left eye, Caretaker saw the telltale twitch and they smiled. They knew if they were alone Whumper would have expressed their doubts too, but Caretaker knew it had to end this way when they broke Whumpee free. Whumper knew it when they found Whumpee’s cage empty.

Caretaker nodded. Then closed their eyes and waited for the final blow.

It didn’t come.

Instead, Caretaker heard the most devastating sound they would ever hear.

“WAIT!”

Caretaker’s eyes shot open meeting Whumper’s smirking face. Caretaker lurched forward, renewing every struggling effort to get free of the guards’ hold but Caretaker didn’t get very far.

“Whumper, wait! Whumper! Don’t,” Caretaker cried, trying to squirm out of the guards’ hold but every time they got a bit of leeway the guards would change their position and keep Caretaker firmly between them. “Whumpee! RUN!”

“Oh, it’s too late for that, Caretaker,” Whumper said with a smile. “My men already have them. They’re bringing Whumpee up now.”

Whumper turned their attention back to Caretaker, a cruel glint in their eye that scared Caretaker. “Looks like you betrayed me for nothing,” Whumper told them and Caretaker’s seemed to disintegrate in their chest.

It wasn’t gentle, more like a shrapnel bomb going off inside them, pieces of sharp metal lodging in everything. It was difficult to breathe as if Whumper had his goons submerge Caretaker in a barrel of water and was waiting for them to drown.

When Whumpee’s eyes caught Caretaker’s they wanted to scream.

Why didn’t you run?

I told you to run!

This wasn’t apart of the plan!

I risked everything for you.

Whumpee’s expression was entirely apologetic, and it broke something else inside Caretaker. “I’m sorry… I couldn’t let you die.”

Whumper let out a little laugh at that. Caretaker stared at Whumpee, certain every emotion was crossing their face. Until Whumper stepped between them and Caretaker’s gaze strayed to his face instead.

Whumper reached a hand out and settled it under Caretaker’s chin, tilting their head up to face Whumper. They wanted to cry, to scream, to spit. All they did was stare.

“See what heroics gets you?” Whumper said gently. Caretaker couldn’t speak, emotion clogging their throat and not letting air or words through.

Without breaking eye contact with Caretaker, Whumper said: “bring Whumpee back to their cage, and make sure you double the guards around their tent.”

All adrenaline left Caretaker’s body in a quick flush leaving them drained and defeated. “You’re coming with me to my tent, Caretaker,” Whumper promised, something dangerously soft colouring their voice. “We have much to discuss.”