#whumper x whumpee

[whumpcereal]

a little noncon whump scenario beneath the cut

"Do you know what the French call it when you come, Whumpee?"

Whumper's whisper is warm and wet in Whumpee's ear. Whumpee squeezes their eyes shut, trying to ignore the rough hand slipping between their legs. They bite down hard on gag between their teeth, but still, their body jerks in response to Whumper's touch.

"They call it la petite mort, pet. A little death."

Whumpee's body coils like a spring as Whumper's fingers bring them closer to the edge.

"I wonder," Whumper purrs, "just how many times you'll die before I decide to kill you."

[a-crumb-of-whump]

Content: Defiant whumpee, threats of torture, manhandling, choking, fear of death.

"Lose the attitude, Whumpee."

"What're you gonna do? Torture me? Make my life a living hell? As far as I'm concerned, you already do both. Not like things can get any worse."

Whumper was fuming. One shaking hand slammed Whumpee's head back into the brick wall behind them while the other pinned their arms above their head, preventing them from moving or trying to shove them away.

"Oh, your living circumstances right now will seem like heaven if you push me far enough," they spat, mere inches from Whumpee's now-frightened face. "Do you want to see how bad things can get? Is that why you're behaving like a spoilt brat?"

"N-no, sir." The name was clearly forced. Whumpee never called them 'sir' unless they were scared for their life. "I'm sorry."

Feeling accomplished, Whumper finally let them go. "Glad we cleared that up."

[whump-and-other-misfortunes]

cw pet whump, implied drugging, intimate whumper, conditioned whumpee, slightly suggestive

"What did you wish for this Christmas, kitten?" Whumper asked, loosening their tie. They were still fully dressed in their work clothes, while their pet was wearing soft, holiday themed pajamas.

They gave Whumper a sweet smile from their place on the couch, holding a mug of hot chocolate. "Snow."

Whumper chuckled, pulling off their tie and kicking off their shoes before joining Whumpee on the couch. "That's precious, honey. Well, it might not get that cold, but—" They pulled a small bag from their jacket pocket and held it up for their pet to see. "Close enough."

Whumpee made a soft noise of disagreement, holding their hot chocolate closer as though it would keep them safe. "Please, Master, you know I don't like that."

"You said you wanted snow, hm?" Whumper teased, reaching out to stroke Whumpee's hair. "Besides, I like how it makes you. I like seeing you all spacey, not worrying like you do all the time. I like when you're easy."

Whumpee looked up at them through their lashes. "Can we watch a Christmas movie first? And cuddle?"

The smirk on Whumper's face was replaced with a more earnest smile, and they kissed Whumpee's cheek. "Of course, kitten. We can make some cookies, too, if you want."

"Yes, please," Whumpee said, face lighting up. "And more hot chocolate?"

"Sure, honey," Whumper agreed. "It is Christmas Eve, after all."

[jordanstrophe]

Survival instinct whumpees. They’re neither defiant or compliant, they simply want to survive. They talk to whumper trying to calm them down. They tell stories, crack jokes, give compliments, anything it takes to create a bond that might make whumper stay their hand. 

Better yet? Maybe this is the first pleasant conversation whumper has had in a long time. Maybe they melt into it, talk just as kindly back. They no longer have intent to harm whumpee, but now, they don’t want to let them go either. They want to protect them. 

They want to keep them.

[montammil]

Whumper who wouldn't dare hurt a hair on Whumpee's head. No, they love them so much, they'd kill for them without an ounce of hesitation--and they have.

When Whumper accidentally roughs Whumpee up, they're apologizing frantically and cradling them, almost in tears. Even when it's not their fault, they're panicking over their beloved Whumpee.

But just because they wouldn't physically hurt them doesn't mean they won't kidnap them, threaten their loved ones, and keep them locked in the basement.

[generic-whumperz]

🖕☺️🖕

[abhainnwhump]

I will never turn down a Whumper going out to assassinate Whumpee, only to realize they're too sweet and/or pretty and they can't do it, falling in love with Whumpee instead. They know their boss is going to probably kill them, but they refuse to harm, much less kill Whumpee. They don't deserve it.

[favouritefearlesswhumper]

The shift from fighting a villain to fearing them is so good.

Where once, they looked at him with a distrustful glare, fists raised up, and fire stirring in their chest- now?

They fear him.

He places his hand on their face, strokes the side of it, and they tremble.

He pulls them close, presses them flush against him, and they shake.

He places a hand on their thigh. He rubs the skin there, slowly sliding his hand up higher and higher, and they whimper.

Sometimes he thinks about taking a photo of them, like this. The pathetic, fearful, mewling pet. He has pictures of them from before.

They will never go back to what they were.

And it's glorious.

[ccieatchildren]

TW: Implied Noncon

Whumpee was awoken by a sharp shift in the bed. Over their captivity, they had become hyper aware of the body sleeping next to them, stirring whenever he tossed and turned under the covers. Steadying their breathing, Whumpee focused on each move and sound he made, trying to determine what he was doing.

The sheets ruffled and then there was no more drastic movement. Air brushed against their back, the spot next to them cold with the open covers. Whumpee covertly looked to their left to see where he had gone, only to be surprised to find him still on the bed.

Whumper sat on the edge of the mattress, breathing heavily. His body shook slightly and his fingers twitched in a rhythmic motion.

One, two, three.

Four, five, six.

Seven, eight, nine.

As if he was counting the seconds.

They continued to analyze his body language, trying to ascertain whether he was a threat in this state. His shoulders were hunched, they could hear him mumble under his breath, and he seemed distracted. All things to be wary of, but no immediate action. They watched until Whumper’s hand stilled.

“I can feel you staring.”

Whumpee quickly turned back around and resumed pretending to be asleep, hoping he would think it was his imagination and not pester them.

However, his tired, gruff voice spoke up once more. “Prašau Whumpee, you have worked in the field; if you can’t tell that someone is watching you, you are dead.” He sighed. “Miegok. Go back to sleep.” Whumper stood up, legs faintly shaking, turning to walk around the bed to the door, “I’m going out,” there was a waver in his voice, “I’ll be back later.”

Whumpee’s mind raced. They could not let him leave. Despite the ease it brought it, Whumpee could not ignore the blood dripping off him. The rips in his clothes and the scratches on his skin. They knew intimately what it was like to be the object of his ire and would not wish it on another soul.

Before they could even process what their brain decided to do, Whumpee lashed out and grabbed his hand.

Whumper startled, ripping his arm out of their grasp, a flash of fear in his eyes, before he managed to smooth it out.

“W-wait!” Instinct tells them to drop it. Let him leave and vent his anger out on someone else. Save themself the trouble and pain. But they do not, a doomed mouse asking the snake for mercy, reaching out again instead.

“Why don’t you… stay here, with m- me, instead?”

A blank stare is all they are met with. He says nothing, searching them for something they don’t know. Whumpee’s lips quiver as they strain to stretch them out into a pleasant smile. They’re not quite sure they make it.

“Are you stupid?”

It is not a response they expected, but it does make them start to regret their decision. Whumpee curls back into themself in response.

Seriously! What was the goal with that? What was I planning to do?

A voice in their head— their survival instinct— berates them for their stupidity. But another speaks over it.

What if he kills someone? I know I can take it. Maybe I could even calm him down peacefully.

‘Calm him down peacefully.’ Like that’s my job?! Let him suffer. Let me get some sleep while I can.

Diverting their gaze, Whumpee listens to their arguments, the angel and devil on their shoulders. One looking out for themself, honestly the smarter option, while the other parroting ingrained selflessness, perhaps the moral option.

They should have let him be. Whumper would do what he wanted no matter their opinion. Why trouble themself with the pain of interference.

But what if he actually listened for once? He had proven time and time again to be weak to them— when it came to other people— why not test the theory again.

The incessant arguing in Whumpee’s head ceases when he talks once more.

“What? Is the hero finally having second thoughts; not able to play the bystander anymore?”

An unbidden memory of looking at absurd trolley problems with Bestie pushes to the forefront of Whumpee’s mind. Choosing ludicrous option after ludicrous option, giggling at the scenarios the poor stick figures found themselves in. If only things could be that simple now.

He grabbed their cheeks, forcing them to face him. “I asked you a question.” Their situation slaps back into focus, and Whumpee stutters to give a response.

His voice seemed more curious and surprised than angry, so Whumpee tried to give him a more natural answer. “… No…” Honesty always went far with him. “I just…” They tentatively place a hand on his face and Whumpee instantly softens. A good sign. “You have me now. You don’t need to leave anymore.”

He doesn’t respond, only nuzzling into their hand further, but they can feel him ponder her words. They needed to fully entice Whumper into staying.

“Lie down with me. Let me make you feel better.” He looks at them confused, but not disinterested. No going back now.

Whumpee coaxes his head into their lap, repressing the urge to tremble at his proximity. He complies, curling into them like a cat. Taking a deep breath, Whumpee lets out their fears and misgivings about the situation before continuing. Their quivering fingers part his hair, threading through the dark locks.

They’ve rarely touched them before, only having yanked the tresses to inflict a margin of the same pain he’s given them, panic driving them on despite any potential consequences. Yet, this stress is different. As they run their hand through the soft strands, resentment starts to build in the place of their anxiety.

The intimacy is a spark to the meager kindling of their frustration.

However, Whumper is content, practically purring at their ministrations. Their actions have had the desired effect, calming the man from whatever torment ailed him.

They remain there, one serene with their touch, the other restless at his affection, for a while, until Whumper hesitantly breaks the tranquility.

“I love you…”

It was one of the few times he said it without any underlying malice or lust, and each time it makes their stomach clench. The emotion, the context, the… everything behind those three little words made them hate him more each time.

They just didn’t want to be here anymore.

“I love you so much.” The words tumble out of him in a rush, like he’s worried that they don’t believe him. “I promise I love you. I’m sorry… for not- I- I can’t- You’re-” he stumbles over his words, a rare look of guilt on his face, “I’m sorry for not letting you go.” Whumpee’s hand stilled.

“But, I- I just can’t. You have to understand. It’s just too late.” Now he feels ashamed? “I should have never kept you for so long, I should have never let you leave the basement, I should have never taken you in the first place.” Now he regrets it? “But now, I’ve condemned us both.” They nearly miss his next sentence.

“You made me think I could make something sweet.”

He quiets down once again, face scrunched in thought, and the time passes like honey dripping between their fingers. The silence stretches for what could have been hours, minutes, or seconds. They resume petting him; the repetitive action agitates them. Finally, his face smooths and he pipes up again.

“But, it’ll be okay. We’ll be a real family… You’ll get used to this… I’ll get used to this.”

It’s quiet once more, and Whumpee refuses to speak or even acknowledge what he has said. Their hand pauses once more in disbelief. Closing their eyes and desperately struggling not to scream, rage burns its way up their throat.

“I hope you can forgive me.”

Forgiveness? How could they even forgive someone like him, after all he’s done to them?

It wasn’t fair. They were supposed to be in their apartment, snuggled up in blankets and watching snow through the window. Or sipping hot cocoa with Bestie as they watched corny romcoms. They were supposed to be refusing Caretaker’s invitation to join them on a too early morning run. And staying way too late on overtime combing through paperwork.

Not this.

Right as their fury was to peak, as their indignation was to boil over, it all abandoned Whumpee in a moment, hand restarting its rhythmic motions in his hair.

They were stuck here now, and there was no changing that.

“Does it even matter if I do?”

Whumper never responded.

[pendarling]

Redo

Death wasn't a particularly new concept to Whumper, but they may have taken it a bit further this time.

"Whumpee? Whumpee!"

Whumper dropped the hammer onto the concrete ground and knelt beside Whumpee's disjointed figure. They lay still with their eyes half-lidded and unresponsive.

"Shit."

They got up again and ran out of the room, panic growing in their chest. They couldn't risk losing Whumpee; it was just to scare them, just to torment them to get a message across-- not…

Whumper stopped their searching and found the medkit in the cabinets; there was still time. They could save them. Healing was never their best suit, but hopefully, with whatever little knowledge they had, it would suffice.

They stumbled back into the room and immediately got to work. Their hands were shaking, their pulse rapidly accelerating, and their vision was lost in the dark bruises littered all over their skin.

How was Whumpee able to take all this strain?

They should've been more careful-- Whumper wiped another blood stain across Whumpee's hips and tightly bandaged the growing pool of blood near their leg.

They'd be fine… that's right. Whumpee was able to last this long, sure they've had their moments of spiralling out of control, but physically, they would be relatively okay.

Whumper hesitantly took Whumpee's small, pale figure in as they lifted them from the hard floor. They were so nimble and cold; their face had become different now that they inspected them. Dark bags hung under their eyes, and a barely audible shuttering noise with every breath they took.

Their thoughts couldn't help but begin to feel guilty. They'd never felt so attached to someone like Whumpee before, but assuming the time spent with them had made them closer.

…

Whumpee had never felt so confused as then; the room was brighter than expected, and their eyes took a while to focus on the figure staring remorsefully across from them. A glass of liquid pouring into a cup had woken them up from their deep slumber.

Whumpee parted their dried lips slightly as if to speak but could only cough in uneven patterns. Their chest heaved right before Whumper raised their head and calmed their nerves.

"Relax, Whumpee." They pushed a glass of water to their lips. The chilling drink imprinted inside of them.

The other set them down cautiously onto the pillow and blinked a few more times when they heard a glass set down next to their head, a nightstand, they suspected. Where were they?

Whumper tilted their head at Whumpee's expression. It was only natural they'd respond so confused; after all, they'd never been let out of the basement before, not even so far as upstairs.

They watched as Whumpee's eyes drifted back to Whumper. Something unfamiliar etched across their face as soon as the palm of their hand met their forehead.

"I knew you could make it." finally, a sigh of relief.

"I'm sorry. Do I know you?"

Whumper froze in their spot, and for a second, just a minute… they thought-- could they start over? This would be their chance. But then again, wouldn't it be unethical? They certainly wouldn't want to scare Whumpee and revive those traumas, primarily since they've only recently understood that maybe Whumpee was worth keeping.

There wasn't anyone else in this world who they'd been insistent on keeping for so long. There wasn't even the tiniest hint of interest in anyone else; no one could entertain them like Whumpee could… or did. Their entertainment, of course, had changed, and now all they could think about was how to fix their dreadful mistake.

It was all too much; they couldn't do this. No.

"Whumpee, what are you saying? You know me."

An empty stare was all they received, but truly, in all their honesty, Whumpee had tried to recollect any memories at all.

"I didn't-- I mean, there's no way you hit your head this hard."

"I hit… my head?"

Here it comes, the lies; they couldn't stop once they started. Whumper licked their lips, creasing their brows as they cultivated their next moves.

"Yes."

Whumpee picked themselves up and scanned the homely room. "Oh."

"Don't worry. I'll care for you, Whumpee."

There it was. That smile. That unknowing gullible smile. Was this what being good felt like? It felt… new.

~~~

MASTERLIST

[3-2-whump]

Tear-Filled Noncon (Mutual!)

it's a working title, I'm bad with titles

Continuation of this idea

TW/CW: because this is a continuation of the previous noncon idea, a lot of the same warnings will apply. Rape/Noncon, intimate whumper, obsessed whumper, domestic violence (including brief head trauma), some degradation, inner thoughts that go a bit dark. If I missed anything, pls let me know!

He turned the key slowly in the lock, opened the door as quietly as he could, and closed it equally as carefully behind him. Whumpee’s eyes swept over the living room. The apartment was quiet and dark, dimly illuminated only by the city lights in the window. More importantly, the door to the master bedroom was closed, with no light peeking out from underneath. Whumpee sighed in relief; he’d gotten away with it.

The next breath caught in his throat as he was body-slammed into the door. A large hand pinned both wrists above his head when he tried to defend himself from the unseen force. The other hand yanked his head back by his hair, eliciting a surprised yelp of pain. “Where were you?” a warm breath hissed in his ear.

Whumpee squirmed under his master’s punishing grasp. “I-I can explain-”

“Like hell you can!” The hand in Whumpee’s hair drove his head forward and smashed it against the door. Sharp pain unfurled in the back of his skull as stars danced across his blurry vision. “Your curfew is midnight at latest, and it’s nearly two in the morning,” Whumper's angry voice thundered past the incessant throbbing in his head. The hand on his wrists tightened into a bruising grip. “So tell me-” Whumpee cried out in pain as the hand in his hair pulled harder. “Where were you?”

“You’re hurting me!” Whumpee gasped.

“Well you’re hurting me!” Whumper let go of him at once, only to throw him to the floor of the entrance. Whumpee landed hard on his side. He reflexively tried to curl into a ball to protect himself, but within moments the man had flipped him onto his back to better climb on top of him. A loud ripping sound punctuated Whumpee’s whimpers in the darkness as his shirt was torn clean in two. “Coming home late at night, with no regard to my rules, and smelling like a cheap motel –wait…” Whumper’s eyes zeroed in on a necklace of hickeys that rested on the young man’s collarbone. He slapped him, once, then twice, then again. “Who gave you those hickeys?” Slap! “Who were you sleeping with?!” Slap! “Well, answer me, whore!”

Whumpee shook his head, the tears streaming down his face as he continued to beg for mercy. “Clearly you’ve forgotten who you belong to,” Whumper huffed. “No problem, this just means I’ve got to remind you!” He brusquely unbuttoned Whumpee’s pants and pulled them and his boxers down the young man’s trembling thighs. Whumpee’s pleas of “no, no, stop, please, stop” went entirely ignored as he was flipped onto his stomach. His begging took on a frantic pitch as his body started visibly shaking. He’d never been taken from behind before, and this new position made him panic.

“You don’t deserve to be fucked like a person, so you’ll take it like the wanton little bitch you are!”

“No, no, stop, please! I’m sorry, I’m sorry, please, no, I’m sorry!”

“Shut up!” Whumpee wailed as his hips were wrenched up from the floor and Whumper entered him without any prep or lube. The man was not gentle, far from it. Quick, desperate thrusts punctured him deeper than he was used to. It was the roughest he had ever been with him, unquestionably, feeling less like having sex and more like being torn in half. Stubbornly enough, Whumpee’s body reacted to these more intense sensations all the same, especially when the man on top of him continuously slammed into that sweet spot inside of him.

“Look at you,” Whumper commented derisively, a hint of bitterness in his gravelly voice. “Hard as a rock already, you slutty thing! You’d be happy with just anyone’s cock inside your ass, wouldn’t you?” Whumpee’s cheeks colored in shame as a shaky moan interrupted his pleas. “But you shouldn’t be; you’re mine!”

He felt a thin, warm fluid trickle past the cock pummeling his hole. The man above him crushed him further into the carpeted floor. “I own this ass, and it is mine to fuck,” he screamed, “you got it?! No one else’s, just mine!”

He didn’t have to see behind him to know he was bleeding. At least it makes Master’s thrusts a little less painful, he thought. That feeling of morbid relief alone made him cry even harder. What the fuck is wrong with me?

“Why am I not enough for you?!” Whumper’s voice wavered with emotion. His angry thrusts turned sloppier as he continued. “Damn it, and damn you! I gave you everything you could ask for; I gave you everything you could have needed! I fed you, clothed you, made you into the man you are today, so why?! What are they giving you that I’m not?!” The man’s voice caught on the last question. Whumpee felt small wet drops of liquid fall onto the nape of his neck. Tears? He realized with horror that Whumper was crying as he was raping him.

“M-Master, I-I’m sorry, please-”

“I said, shut up!” He pulled Whumpee back by the hips until he was flush with the older man’s pubic bone, burying himself to the hilt and spilling deep inside him. They stayed in that position for an uncomfortably long time. Suppressed sniffling sounds filled the entryway, and Whumpee knew they weren’t all coming from him. Whumper eventually pulled out, leaving his hole gaping and obscenely oozing cum. He settled on the floor next to Whumpee and repositioned them both onto their sides. “I love you, boy,” he murmured as he pulled him closer to spoon him. “I don’t enjoy hurting you, boy.” The tension gradually left Whumpee’s body as he accepted the forced cuddles. The man planted a kiss on the back of his ear, right above the barcode tattoo that marked him indelibly as property. The kiss was wet and tinged with sadness. “So why do you make me hurt you?”

-

Because what we do –no, what you do to me- is not supposed to feel good. How could it feel good? I didn’t want it, I don’t want it, and I will never want it, so why does my body betray me every time? What if it’s because you’re right? What if this really was my true purpose? To be nothing more than a pair of holes to fill and a body to break under yours? What if I am all those names you call me because I think this feels good?

And, what if I act out, do all the things I know will test your patience and make you rough and uncaring so that it finally hurts? So that it finally doesn’t feel good, and I don’t have to ask if my body and my mind are on the same page about me being violated? What if that’s why I make you hurt me? Would you stop? Would you hurt me more? Would it even matter?

-

That is everything Whumpee wanted to say. Instead, through a throat ripped raw from screaming, he rasped, “I don’t know.”

[a-crumb-of-whump]

"Don't worry, i got you."

"Let me go," Whumpee whispered, subconsciously pulling Whumper closer by the collar of their shirt as they sobbed. "Please let me go."

[spidersanonymous]

There was a soft knock at their door. Caretaker looked up from their mountains of paperwork, eyebrows furrowing as Whumpee fidgeted in the doorway.

“Hello, Whumpee,” they greeted smoothly, “is there something you needed?” Whumpee didn’t tend to stray from Whumper’s side, Caretaker could only imagine what they might need. With a glance at their emancipated figure, probably a hot meal and a bed.

“Caretaker, i-” Whumpee bit their lip, shakily stepping further into Caretakers office, “I need- help. Your help,” they finished lamely, shifting on their feet as they awaited Caretaker’s response.

Caretaker rose an eyebrow, a record amount of seven words in a span of all of twenty seconds, “Okay?” they set down their pen, giving Whumpee their full attention, “Here,” they stood up from their chair, the old metal shrieking, “i think you need a seat, yes?”

Whumpee’s lip curled down but they still crossed the room and sat down, the chair groaning quietly under their weight. They hugged their arms around themself, head bowed as they anxiously glanced at the door.

Caretaker hummed, eyes tracing over Whumpee before making a decision, “I could close the door if you’re that concerned about it,” they nodded towards the doorway.

“Don’t,” Whumpee rasped, eyes widening as their words registered; still, they continued, “it isn’t- it’s not- it’s… fine.” their frown deepened as they stammered through the words. Caretaker could sympathize.

“If you’re sure,” Caretaker shrugged, leaning against their table with as much casualty as they could manage, “so, you needed my help with what, exactly?” they asked, not unkindly.

“Um,” their arms tightened, “i need- you help victims um, escape from their abu-abusers, right?”

Caretaker leaned forward with rapt attention, eyes sharpening as they drank in Whumpee’s quivering lips, tight posture, the way their nails picked at the fabric of their shirt. Caretaker never saw Whumpee at lunch, nor did they ever come to the employee hang-outs on weekends. Something forced the ever elusive Whumpee to come out of hiding. “Right,” they nodded, “I do.”

“Okay,” they nodded once, twice, “Yes, there was a case- Jorgie May, and her sister,” they picked furiously at a view loose threads, avoiding Caretaker’s eyes as their gaze darted across the office space. There wasn’t much to see.

Caretaker hummed agreement.

“Their mother,” their voice strained, throat bobbing as they forced the words out, “she was- erm- abusive,” their eyes suddenly found Caretakers, “how did-” they licked their lips nervously, “how did they get help?” What did they say to make people believe them? Was left unsaid.

Whumpee’s words lingered in the air for a moment as Caretaker considered, leaning closer as they dropped their voice to a whisper, “They gathered evidence, took pictures of their injuries, recorded arguments they had with their mother, things of that nature. One night their mother was drunk, so she took all of the evidence -and her sister- and went to the police,” they leaned out of Whumpee’s space, “bit hard to claim two malnourished kids covered head to toe in bruises were liars.”

Whumpee shuddered, squeezing their eyes shut as they exhaled forcefully.

“The fact the neighborhood didn’t have the highest opinions of their mother probably helped, as well,” they mused to themself.

“Thank you,” they whispered, “that’s-”

“A lot?” Caretaker suggested, eyebrow raised.

“Sure,” they shrugged, glancing at the door, “i should probably get going-”

A quiet knock interrupted Whumpee’s words as Whumper slipped in from the ajar door, “Ah,” they hummed, eyes narrowing, “Whumpee and… Caretaker. How curious.”

Not even a hello, “Hello, Whumper,” they greeted as smoothly as they could manage, “was there something you needed?” even then, their words were curt.

“There’s no need to be hostile, Caretaker,” they chastised with a frown, stalking further into Caretaker’s office, “I’m just here to collect my charge, I am responsible for them, you know,” their lips curled up, as if letting Caretaker in on a joke. Caretaker hated the look on them.

“Of… course,” Caretaker agreed, words sour, “is there any chance we could take a minute and chat?” and maybe, possibly, knock you over the head with a baseball bat?

“No, unfortunately,” they crooned with false pity, smiling sickly-sweet, “Whumpee and I have a meeting to attend, and we simply don’t have the time for any further conversations,” they spat the words, expression darkening as they grabbed Whumpee’s wrist and harshly pulled them up.

Whumpee, for their credit, didn’t yelp at the pull, even though they looked like one strong wind took knock them over. They grit their teeth, allowing themself to be pulled to Whumper’s side. Whumper curled an arm around their shoulder, looking painfully smug.

Caretaker wanted to wipe that look off their face.

“If that’s all, Whumpee and I really do have to be going,” they dragged Whumpee out the door, “it was lovely speaking with you, Caretaker.”

Can’t say the same for you, “Likewise.” They managed to spit out.

With one last smug smirk, they both disappeared behind the door, finally shutting closed with a click.

Caretaker only wished they gave Whumpee their number.

___

kind of insane about this idea tbh. not sure what about it is so good but… ohh boy. wrote this in a span of two days, lightly edited. also let me know if anyone wants to be added to a taglist lol

[jordanstrophe]

CW: Kidnapped for auction, sold to a gentle/controlling whumper, gagged, shackled, wounded. 

Whumpee’s wrists were shackled behind their back tethering them to the floor like a short leash. They were still gagged from being transported. No one bothered to take it off.

-And by transport, it was a kidnapping. Their abductors never used those kinds of words. They sickeningly simplified everything like casual business.

A bruise bloomed on the side of their face from where they had been struck unconscious. Blood trickled from their temple to the gag where it soaked it up. 

The door loudly opened as a giddy figure entered. “Oh wow, look at that bruise.” Whumper whistled. They dropped to a crouch in front of them as whumpee huffed and twisted their wounded-side away. 

“Aww, don’t be that way. I won’t hurt you.” As if to prove it, they gently petted whumpee’s hair. “I’m just here to take a look at what I’m buying.” They smiled. 

...  Buying?

Whumpee’s heart fluttered a few extra beats as they took a deep breath to calm themselves.  

“What a shame they did that to your face. I thought I specified that you weren't harmed.” They clicked behind their teeth. “-And what a pretty face. You’ll heal soon, don’t worry.” They grabbed whumpee’s jaw and tilted their head back to meet theirs. Whumpee whimpered a panic breath in pointless resistance. 

“No matter. I’ll take good care of you. You’ll see.” 

[montammil]

CW: Recapturing, creepy Whumper, drugging, noncon touching

...

Whumpee has been alone in the house for a few days, and slowly their paranoia has gone down. They always felt nervous being away from Caretaker for too long, but it’s been almost two months since their return, so they understand Caretaker isn’t willing to risk their job and not go on that business trip.

As Whumpee takes another sip of their water, however, they begin to feel dizzy. They feel sick at the familiar feeling, remembering how Whumper used to drug them and they’d... 

...feel exactly like this.

They try to stand and grab their phone on their bed, but only make it two steps before falling to the floor. They open their eyes to see expensive shoes striding their way, they don’t even need to look up to know who it is.

“I’m offended, in all honesty. Did you really think you could get away from me? Did you think I wouldn’t find you?”

“Please, don’t do this,” Whumpee begs. “Please.”

A smirk rises to Whumper’s lips. “Poor thing. You’ve grown so spoiled, you forgot your place. That’s okay, because you know what? I’m here now, and I’m never letting you leave me again.”

Whumpee goes deadweight when their captor picks them up, cradling them like Caretaker would. They cry and try to keep pleading, but each plead comes out as a pained moan.

As Whumper carries them out, they notice a framed picture on the wall. They stare at it, saying amusedly, “You look so happy in this picture, darling.” They snatch the picture and throw it to the ground, crushing it beneath their shoe. “Happiness isn’t a pretty look on you. I think I like these more.” They thumb away their tears.

“Pl-- pleas--”

“Shh...” Whumper drags their thumb from their cheek to their lips. “Save those pretty pleads for later. You’ll need them.”

[abhainnwhump]

Whumper dancing with a defiant Whumpee who keeps trying to get away but every time they do Whumper pulls them back into another sweep. Meanwhile they're singing and getting too close and personal with Whumpee who just feels like a puppet on strings as they grow more embarrassed and hopeless-