#bastard whumpee

[whumblr]

"You should kneel before your master."

- "My what now?!"

- "Sure, but I don't think it will fix you."

- "No <3"

- "If you find him, let me know, would you."

- "oH yEs mAsTeR wHaTEvEr YoU SaY."

[b0amagination]

Today's whump is a whumpee who does Not want to get sick surrounded by sniffling people 😭

[oddsconvert]

Gonna post my part two for 'August captured by hunters AU' tomorrow 👀

May have to be a third part for where Declan saves him 🙂‍↕️👀💖

[the-three-whumpeteers]

The caretaker had found the whumpee by complete accident, but of course they couldn’t just leave them with someone like the whumper- but of course, rescue wasn’t easy. The whumpee would hiss and bite them at every turn, the caretaker tried their best to explain that they only wanted to help, but any move they made just made the whumpee think they were being aggressive.

[avvail-whumps]

‘guns for hire’ — hell house #20

previous · masterlist · next

content warnings: multiple whumpers, sadistic whumpers, nailed to the ground, blood loss, gunshot wounds, beating, knife wounds, whumper sort of caretaking, mentioned (and almost) non-con (nothing explicit), non-con touching (not sexual), waterboarding, cigerette burn, mention of attempted suicide

Leo was confident he was going to die when he was left on the ground.

Time wasn’t distinct, and nor was it manageable, losing it just as easily the moment his weary eyes even found the energy to pry themselves open. Being awake was just as unbearable as the inevitable reality that his legs had been shot, and his hands had been nailed against the ground.

An unbearable wave of dizziness smacked into him anytime he tried to lift his head, stuffed with cotton. His breathing was nothing but short spurts, unable to conjure the energy to do anything else.

Sometimes, when Bran wandered into the kitchen for a beer, he’d make a clear point of crushing the bullet wound on his leg for good measure, and Leo’s vision would spark white in agony.

It was only when the neutral face of Beer came into his view that Leo’s clammy, uncoloured face was able to find the energy to move. He’d come with a hammer in his hand, and Leo’s palms immediately flared from the memory.

His face wrinkled as a quiet whimper escaped, and his head tilted away from the man. He didn’t think he’d be able to take any more nails in his body, or pain in general. He wouldn’t be able to stomach it, unless they wanted his aching, empty belly to spill it’s contents on the floor.

Beer raised a brow, his eyes flickering to the hammer, and then the nails. He kneeled down beside him, seemingly unbothered he was stepping in slippery blood. From the kitchen door, sipping a beer, Bran sneered at him.

“You ain’t no fun.”

Using the forked end of the hammer, Beer hooked it between the nail, and began to pry it out with a firm jerk. Leo’s lips quivered open with a pained whine, eyes watering.

“Do you want him to die?” Beer countered sternly, and there was even a hint of annoyance in his eyes as he glanced up at Bran. “Roy won’t hesitate to kill you if you’re responsible, you know. We all know that. I wouldn’t test his patience.”

Bran took a long sip of his beer, and with a sickening squish, the nail tore from his hand. His arm lay there limply, a strangled cry choking in his throat. He feebly tried to move away from Beer’s grip, but the other had no problem preparing to dig out the second nail.

“Like I said before,” he sneered. “Roy ain’t here, Joey.”

��And when he is?” The man countered. Leo could barely register their conversation, his vision blurring through layers of static as the nail wedged uncomfortably out of his hand. An exhausted sob escaped his lips. Bran’s eyes narrowed.

“I can do whatever the fuck I want with him,” the man sneered. “He’ll live. Roy doesn’t need to get his balls in a twist, and neither do you. He told us not to kill him, and does he look dead to you?”

Joey didn’t respond. He simply grabbed Leo’e arm, and hurled him up off the ground. The pain in his legs surged like fire from the sudden movement, but he couldn’t even cling onto anything with the numb throbbing in his hands. Fresh blood was streaming down arms, accompanied by tears tracking down his face and running through the dried blood.

“He will be if you keep this up,” he mumbled. “When Roy comes back and he finds it doesn’t sit right with him that other people are messing with his things, you know you’ll be the first.”

Bran scoffed. “Go on. Keep suckin’ up to the maniac. He ain’t care as long as his little pet is alive.”

Joey slowly made his way up the stairs. “I don’t think so.”

He took a wild guess as to where Leo’s room was. He felt his back hitting the bedsheets, sucking in a sharp hiss through his teeth as the pain sparked to life again. He was sure he lost time between the finger light touches on his body, because the next time he woke up, the dizziness had somewhat subsided and his breathing had returned back to normal.

His legs and hands had been bandaged up, and he was even able to flex his tingling fingers. He was alone in his room, and he was sure he was stocked on a lot of painkillers, because he couldn’t help but let out a soft, breathless chuckle.

Night came and went, and Leo slept through most of the day. In the afternoon when he’d shakily taken more painkillers, he realised that he was ultimately failing to complete the rule that Roy had implemented. He hadn’t cooked at all for them — he could hardly even hold a cup with the state of his hands, let alone stand around on his legs over a hot stove. Using crutches was impossible.

The secretary didn’t get much peace for a while.

Mercenary after mercenary would come into his room, and Leo often found himself meeting their fists or their ruthless beatings. Bran liked doing that the most, making it hurt enough but avoiding his wounds to keep him conscious for long enough. Finger often liked to use little knives or daggers and glide them along his skin to watch him squirm. He’d one time been abruptly ripped from unconsciousness and found the fingerless man in the midst of unbuttoning his pants. He was almost relieved and utterly sickened when he’d stopped to complain he would have preferred if he’d stayed asleep.

Beard wasn’t so much interested, though Leo had been dragged out of his room multiple times by him and abruptly thrown into whatever room the others were in. Although Bran was huge and meaty, his hits like being pummeled with a brick wall, there was something horrific about Beard’s methods. He usually had an audience, and Leo was forced to listen to the humiliating jeers of the other men in the background.

Often his time felt like torture.

Secured tightly to a chair, his bruises and cuts that had been left to bloom on his skin irritatied by the raw bite of the ropes. A rag over his face, and the rush of cold water that made it impossible to breathe. The suffocation that had made his mind short circuit and his lungs burn like fire. No matter how much he’d writhe and thrash, he could never breathe through the water soaked cloth over his face.

Leo just wanted to go home. The echoes of the men’s degrading words and heckles kept him awake when he needed sleep the most. The only rest he got was when the passed out from the pain or the exhaustion.

Joey didn’t bother him like the others, but he often joined in sometimes on their jeers and would be more than happy to watch when Beard wanted to put on a show. He had put out a cigerette on his shoulder one time, the hot ash searing through his skin, but other than that, the mercenary would sometimes patch up his wounds and feed him a little something when he was on the brink of collapse, ensuring he stayed alive just enough for their torure to continue.

In his state, Leo couldn’t even walk by himself.

It was pathetic. It made him feel horrible, and weak.

He barely ever made it to the bedroom; he would usually be left wheezing in whichever room he was dragged into, not even able to muster the strength to get to his feet. He wasn’t sure how long it had been since Roy had left. Maybe weeks. Maybe a month. He just knew he couldn’t take much more.

One time, Leo made it into the kitchen. The tiles were cold under his battered limbs, but he’d shakily tugged open the drawer and pulled out a big knife. It clattered loudly to the ground, his hands too weak to barely even grasp onto it. When he did, the door creaked open.

It was Joey. He was looking at him with a cold glint in his eyes.

“You won’t be able to do any damage to all four of us in that state,” he murmurs dryly, and Leo just barely squints through the spots on his vision. Even though he’s leaning on the counter, he hasn’t stood on his feet this long.

“You’re always saying that Roy said I can’t die,” he wheezes. The knife trembled in his hands, eyes burning with tears. “So I’ll kill myself.”

Joey doesn’t react to the words. Leo can feel himself shaking, tears leaking down his cheeks. Maybe he won’t ever see his father again, but at least he’ll be free from this hellhole. Maybe Roy will kill them for breaking his rules. The very idea makes his heart squeeze painfully. He keeps the knife pointed at Joey anyway, trying to fight the crippling fear in his stomach.

“Do you think you can do that?”

No, Leo thinks to himself, stuttering on a sob. The thought of plunging that knife into his body makes his cells scream in terror. He’s a coward.

“I just want to go home,” he sobs, chest stuttering. He’s so exhausted. “I just want this to end.”

Joey doesn’t say anything. He strolls up to him and takes the knife from his weak fingers, putting it back in the drawer. If Roy was here, he would probably be sinking into the soothing whisper of his voice, or melting at his warm embrace. Maybe running his hands through his hair, or gently stroking away his tears. Leo needed something. He needed anything to keep him going.

“I won’t tell the others about this,” Joey says, his voice as emotionless as ever. “Don’t pull this stunt if you won’t go through with it. You’ll get yourself into more trouble.”

Leo aches for anything. Anything at all.

tag list – @unorganisedalienrubbish @d-cs @rabidrabidme @sordayciega @burningkittypoet @whumpawink @mannerofwhump @suspicious-whumping-egg @welcome-to-the-whumpfest @whatwasmyprevioususername @crilex29 @firefly017 @dutifullykrispyland @wibbly-wobbly-whump @there-will-always-be-blood @anonintrovert @justawhumpjunkie @whumptastic-world @ha-ha-one @whatwhumpcomments @whumpterful-beeeeee @anonymous1235 @sonder35 @unforgiven235

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Whump dialogue #62

"Thanks man, I had this awful crick in my neck that just wouldn’t--"

Another punch cut him right off, snapped his head violently to the side.

"Ah shit." He groaned, more in annoyance than in pain, and spit a glob of blood out. "Now it's back again. Could you...? Another maybe? From the left?"

[tired-of-being-nice]

18. How do they wear their hair?

19. Do they have a good aim?

29. Can they endure torture? Is there a method that immediately breaks them? Are they good torturers?

For the lw ask game :)

ask game!! tysm :)

18. very short... they don't like it but it's easier to clean, and looks neater. they're always quietly disappointed when it's time for a haircut, though

19. actually no, they're really bad. they're a close-range fighter, not long-range, so they have no need for it, thankfully. but like. sometimes on its rare breaks it tries throwing a snowball for fun and yeah no its. its really bad

29. depends on the type... pain-wise they actually have a really low pain tolerance, they're basically on Weird Sci-Fi Painkillers all the time so whenever they do experience pain it freaks them out. that said they'd probably just get more aggressive in response rather then break. the thing that breaks them is isolation. its very reliable :)

they don't think of themself as a particularly good torturer but they do have a habit of toying with the people they're hunting down. mostly in the process of hunting their quarries, though— once it's caught them it's just a matter of dragging them back home with it. the fun part is tricking them into a corner, popping out from unexpected locations, letting them think they've gotten away only to show up right as they relax... yaaay yippee enrichment for coren ^-^

[just-a-whumping-birb]

First Bitten Picrews!

Oliver:

Tristan:

Grayson:

[defire]

Defiant whumpee but they're cooperating

(sadistic whumper vibes)

"I'm comi--I said I'm COMING!" *Crying, as whumpee is painfully manhandled anyway*

"Get on your knees." Whumper orders. "Fuck you," whumpee growls as they thump to the floor.

"Honestly I would've been gentler, but you had to resist," whumper shrugs. "I did everything you told me to!" Whumpee shouts. "Yeah, but I don't like your attitude."

"I'll do anything you want, please just stop!" Whumpee begs. Whumper pretends to consider it for a moment. "But... I want you to take another punishment. Can you do that for me?"

"Bastard, you can't control me!" "I can't? Then... why are you naked? Did you do that because you wanted to?" Whumper laughs at whumpee's flustered face. "Because that would be almost better."

Whumpee cursing at whumper every time they shove them around, but not fighting back

"it's like you want me to do this to you, isn't it?" Whumper eggs them on. "I didn't ask for this, you motherfucker!" "Then why are you still provoking me?"

"don't give me that look." Whumper points at whumpee's glaring face. Whumpee hisses a breath in. "Do you want me to fucking smile?"

Muttered curses every time whumper touches them

Giving the answers whumper wants to hear--in a dejected monotone.

"are you going to be good?" "Yes." "Do you want a treat?" "...yes..." "But you were bad, so you don't deserve a treat do you?" *Soft sigh* "no..." "What do bad pets get?" Whumpee shudders. "Answer the question, whumpee. What do bad pets get."

Can do this with living weapon whump too. "Let's try this again, weapon." "Yes sir." "What did you do?" "I let them live--I-I created a liability! ...sir." "And what happens when you turn on your owners?"

"Sir, can I --" "No." Whumpee grinding their teeth and keeping their face turned away to hide their bitter anger. "Yes sir."

[guys I have been gone for a while bc of bad life events but I'm coming back soon]

[martyr-inthedark]

Favorite Food

Tw: food whump, aftermath of torture, unreliable narrator, unreality

"Whumpee, what is your favorite food?"

Whumpee's eyes snapped to look up towards Whumper (not at him, never to look at him).

"S-sorry, sir?" It's best to ask for clarification than to do anything too soon. It was a lesson that caused Whumpee to chip a few too many teeth. Their heart pounded in their ears. It's been so long since they've heard their own name.

"I said," Whumper's fingers tapped the table he was sitting at, and his nose crinkled, "Whumpee, what is your favorite food?"

Dread swelled in Whumpee's chest. There was a right answer, surely. They took a breath, a whimper escaping their throat. Did they really have a say? Was this just another trick? A test Whumpee was doomed to fail? There were two options. They could be honest, and risk Whumper ruining another part of their identity. Or, they could lie, and Whumper could punish them for lying (he knew every time, the bastard-).

"Everything okay?" An intense blush filled Whumpee's pale face. Shit. Shit, they took too long. There was a right answer to this riddle. There had to be.

"Sorry, my lord. I am only deserving of what you give me," Whumpee finally choked out. They did not see but rather felt Whumper's eyes fall on their face for the first time all day. They could do nothing under his gaze except tremble on their knees and silently pray for mercy. They sat listening to the gentle 'hmph' from their master.

Whumpee flinched when Whumper stroked their hair, their first sign of affection in a long time. Whumpee wilted into their hand as cold finger tips traced down the side of their head, pushing hair behind their ear, falling down their cheek and finally landing under their chin. Whumpee's lip trembled as their gaze was directed to Whumper's fierce expression.

"Oh, my poor doll," Whumper tsked. Whumpee's new tears followed the same route Whumper's fingers did just moments before. "Whumpee, what is your favorite food?"

"I'm sorry," Whumpee started, mostly to soothe the risk that Whumper was getting frustrated with them, but also to buy themselves a moment to think. They had not thought of their favorite food in so long, after realizing that going home was not an option (anything to ease the pain of loss). Thinking back to a time that felt far away, it came to them, what they missed most. "I'm s-my apologies, sir. Um. I really love... it's hard to pick. Potato soup, or really any soup. Mostly potatoes. Sir."

"That's really interesting." Whumper let go of their chin and their eyes finally fell to their rightful place on the floor.

"Sorry," Whumpee whispered, falling quiet once more. They braced themselves for a bitter insult, a smack on the back of the head, anything, and nothing ever came. They continued to silently cry. What was Whumper going to do? They answered the question. Was it right? The not-knowing was killing them. How could they be good for Master if they didn't know what he wanted?

...

Evening rolled around and Whumper beckoned Whumpee to sit at the table. Dinner had been set, and Whumpee sank into their seat, not wishing to further annoy their master. It wasn't unusual for Whumper to want Whumpee to sit with them. However, it was rare that they had a plate or bowl, and the conversation from earlier still haunted their day. Whumper gestured, and Whumpee lifted the cover off their meal, and—

Potato soup.

Slack-jawed and wide-eyed they dared to look up at Whumper. This wasn't for them, it couldn't be. Whumper had already started eating, and though he had his mouth full, he commanded Whumpee to eat. Tears swelled in their eyes and they shook their head. They weren't supposed to eat until Master was done.

"Whumpee," Whumper warned.

Whumpee flinched. Whumper's chair scraped against the floor as he stood up. Whumpee shuttered at every slow step toward them. Finally, Whumper crouched down below Whumpee, taking their quivering hands.

"Look at me, sweetheart," Whumper said, gently stroking Whumpee's forearm. Whumpee sniffled and did as asked. Whumpee, for the first time all day, saw Caretaker's loving and concerned eyes. "The soup is for you, Whumpee. Just for you. You can eat it, or not eat it. Whenever you want. If you want to wait for me to leave, that is okay. If you want to eat it now, that is okay, too. Your decision is safe here, okay?"

Whumpee nodded, and wept. And they wept hard. No sniffles. No simple tears. They properly wept as Whumper-no-Caretaker pulled their starving frame into a hug.

"I'm not going to hurt you."

"I'm so sorry, Caretaker." All Whumpee could do was breathe out the words between sobs. They never felt more broken, more irreparable, than right there in the reality of Caretaker's arms.

"I know, doll, I know. You don't have to be."

"I thought—I must be an awful person—I thought you were him."

"You're okay. You're not in trouble. I'm glad you see me, now. I'm glad you're here."

Whumpee felt sick of themselves. They wished for a day they could wake up in the morning and feel whole. They wished for a day they weren't afraid of blinking wrong. They wished for a day where they could just eat their favorite food and it not be cold from waiting on them to get over their meltdown.

[whump-in-the-closet]

“For fuck’s sake, let me go!” As far as demands went, this was one of Whumpee’s weakest. They were getting tired. Murderous still, but tired in a way that made their bones ache.

“And get killed for my efforts? No, I like you tied up and kneeling.” Whumper reclined in the living room chair and with one finger, tilted Whumpee’s chin upwards.

The fire snapped brightly, reflected in Whumpee’s red-rimmed eyes. The flickering, laughing shadows mocked the bruises and the lines in their face.

God, they were tired.

Whumpee twisted, everything in knots. Everything wrong. From the carpet they knelt on to the chains around their wrist and Whumpers hand at their bruised throat. Wrong.

All wrong.

“You’re a sick bastard.”

[melpomenelamusa]

Melpómene´s whump stories archive

To celebrate the new year, I've decided to share with you some of my favorite whump stories I read this year as a thank you to all the authors who share a little bit of their world with us 💜✨

My plan is to update this list annually and have it function as a sort of personal archive for me, hehe, but you can use it too if you'd like! 😁

Melpómene's personal favorites:

🩸Shattered (by @oddsconvert): An anti-human-blood-drinking vampire doctor tries to save the life of a human who for years was the bloodbag of a vampire I really hate.

🔪Total $hit$how (by @befuddled-calico-whump): 5 misfits escaping prison for their criminal records are hired by a mysterious organization to stop another mysterious, but more evil, sci-fi organization (Benji, my son).

🩸Blood and tears (by @whumpisgoodwhumpislife): A little half-vampire is suffering too much and a human decides to take care of him and protect him (They are both my babies).

🪄Forsaken (by @inhurtandincomfort): A young wizard, condemned by a pact he made with a misterious entity in the past, is trained and used as a living weapon by a malevolent institution in a fantasy world. Ft. some loser boy mad scientist.

🎣In troubled water (by @whumpisgoodwhumpislife): A little mer anglerfish suffers. That's it. Also known as "my poor fish baby".

Others amazing stories I've read/I'm reading:

📸Smile for the camera! (by @morning-star-whump ): A boy is kidnapped by a psychopath from the deep web. His parents and his little boyfriend try to find him (Andre Vazquez is the best character).

👑Darius & Mianu (by @geode-crystal): A traumatized prince and his faithful knight/boyfriend want to live happily ever after, but something always happens.

👹The Bahkauv (by @deluxewhump): Three friends decide to buy a magical creature to study; but what seemed like nothing more than a monster or an animal may turn out to be a companion.

⚡Overloaded (by @fleur-a-whump): The son of a supervillain wants to join the good guys, but discovers that "heroes" can be just as cruel as villains.

⚓Voyagers (by @sorrowful-hyacinth): A jerk sea captain captures a jerk mermaid prince and they torture each other. They both deserve it because they're such bastards, but you also feel bad for them and it's complicated.

⛓️A taste of your own medicine (by @oddsconvert): Whumper gets kidnapped and torture along with his ex-whumpee by an even evil whumper. Only one person is having fun here.

👨‍👦With me (by @greatgigintheskiess): A bitter guy living in the woods accidentally rescues a little boy who escaped from an evil laboratory. Parental caretaker my beloved.

🪐Humanity Collector (by @rabbit-flaying): A cosmic creature who likes to collect human things decides to add a real human to its collection (A cosmic horror one-shot).

🧵Writemas 2024 (by @tildeathiwillwrite): A woman suffers the mysterious death (or murder?) of her husband. This is the kind of story I would love to read in a printed book and recommend to my entire family.

🦌Whumpcember 2024 (by @kabie-whump): An evil wizard has turned Santa's reindeer into humans, who now have to live with their new bodies. A series of shorts with very interesting and cute characters that I definitely need to keep reading if I could.

🪢My favorite stories by @writinglittlepains: Speedster, Aleksander's Plight and Sweet Fins are my favorites!

⚖️Guilt & Revenge (by @what-if-i-just-did): A traumatized ex-bully is kidnapped by the kids he used to bully as a kid because he couldn't afford therapy and is brutally tortured by those who actually happened to be the ones who needed therapy.

🫂We Are TroubleD (by @whumpty-dumpty-doo): Two best friends are kidnapped by a guy who originally planned to capture one of them for ransom, but now is just torturing them for fun.

⛈️Ventis and friends (by @kabie-whump): A half draconic half air elemental and his varied adventures in a fantasy world *kindly slaps Ventis* This bad boy can fit so much trauma in him.

🛡️Drusus & Keme (by @whumperofworlds): Don´t know why it took me so long to add the whumpable husbands to the list. There´s whump! And fluffy married love! And used as bait!

🪦Curse of Withering (by @sir-fenris): A magical boy with the power to kill everything he touches is imprisoned and used as a living military weapon.

🎀Pretty whumpee (by @string-of-broken-hearts): Pretty whumpe and carewhumper. I really need to know the context, I'm so intrigued.

👿Karma's B*tch (by @whumpthusiast): A pathetic guy kidnaps the wrong woman and now it backfired.

👥Group Whumpees (by @haro-whumps): A young man inherits his eccentric aunt's house after her death and discovers that she had enslaved and tortured six servants. It's now his job to try to restore them to a sense of humanity.

[oddsconvert]

Compromising positions?! 👀🤨 Felix is a nasty man

Truly, a sick and nasty man - I loathe him (I created him 🤪😫). Josh in his most vulnerable and terrifying moments, and Felix snapping photos so he can remember how 'breathtaking' he looked 🤢 My poor boy would have no idea the pictures even existed. He'd find pictures of before he was taken too, him showering in his apartment. Out walking his dog. So damn violating.

[macknus]

Cocky Whumpee

“Just in case you didn’t know,” Caretaker said, glaring at Whumpee. “You don’t have to act like a piece of shit all the time.”

Whumpee didn’t look at them. “I can literally make anyone do whatever the fuck I want, Caretaker. I’m basically a god.”

“You’re such a dick,” Leader huffed.

Whumpee shrugged. “Tell me I’m wrong and I’ll stop acting like I’m better than all of you. Prove me wrong.”

Whumper, who was silently gazing out the window, pushed off the wall and walked towards Whumpee. Whumpee smirked as he approached, lifting his chin stubbornly to look Whumper in the eyes. He wasn’t afraid of the brute. Not when he could make him twirl like a ballerina or bark like a dog with a single sentence.

“Whumper, I want you to��” the punch to Whumpee’s jaw sent him spinning, rocking on his heel. “I want yo—” a punch to the diaphragm and Whumpee doubled over himself, trying to suck in the air that was stolen from his lungs.

Whumper didn’t let up. He snapped his palm against the underside of Whumpee’s chin and punched him to the ground. Whumpee’s brain seemed to rattle in his skull as his head smacked against the floor, but Whumper wasn’t done.

A boot came down on his throat and Whumpee wheezed, choking and gasping, his legs kicking out at Whumper but Whumper didn’t seem to notice nor care as he stared down impassively at Whumpee.

“You need breath to issue commands, like a human,” Whumper told him. “You need a jaw in tact to be able to communicate effectively,” he continued, pressing down on Whumpee’s windpipe harder. “And you need a fucking reality check, clearly, if I could take your arrogant ass down with five moves.”

Whumper forced a smile onto his lips that didn’t reach his eyes as he let up on Whumpee’s throat and turned away. “Some god you are. I certainly won’t be praying to you.”

By the time Whumpee recovered, Whumper was gone, having left the room whistling to himself. Whumpee sat up, looking pointedly at Caretaker and Leader.

Leader smirked. “I would chastise him for that, but you did ask to be proven wrong. He just obliged.”

“Bastard,” Whumpee hissed. The humiliation stung more than the slowly ebbing burn in his lungs and throat. He could get his revenge on Whumper. Easily. But his blown ego and pride scurried off into a corner of his mind and hid while he gathered himself enough to get to his feet. “Stupid brutish pig.”

“High praise coming from a god,” Caretaker murmured, a smile on their face as they kept their eyes fixed on the newspaper in their hands.

“Oh shut up, Caretaker.”

“Never,” Caretaker said with a grin. “I think that’s gonna stay with you for a while. Whumper’s probably telling everyone what you likened yourself to before he knocked you on your ass.”

Whumpee groaned as they glared at the entrance to the common room. He ran a hand down his face and sighed.

Great. Just great.

*~*~*~*~*

General Tag-list: @anxious-mess19 @scoundrelwithboba (lmk if you want to be added or removed)

[chaotic-orphan]

Beg

Three loud bangs on Whumper’s door pulled him from his work in the kitchen. Well, work was a generous word for it. He was scrolling through the Guardian after a long day with two fingers of rye in his hand. He turned his head, eyes narrowed at the intruder, hoping whoever it was would get the hint and leave.

“I know you’re in there you bastard!” Whumper smiled at the familiar voice, surprised. Things rarely surprised him. “Open the fucking door.”

Whumper would know that belligerent voice anywhere. He crossed the hall to his front door, unlocking it and beaming a smile at Whumpee.

“Well, well, well, what are you doing here, darling?”

Whumpee looked like a storm. His hair was sticking up all over his head, the way it did when Whumper put him a stress position for too long or threatened to use the whip or the cane on him again.

Whumpee didn’t answer. Instead he pushed his way passed Whumper into Whumper’s home and stormed through the hall to the basement door. Whumper closed the door and locked it, grinning at the blessing of his evening.

Whumper followed Whumpee down into the basement and leaned by the door, folding his arms across his chest. “What're you doing here, Whumpee?”

Whumpee tore his jacket from his body and went to throw it in the corner but caught it at the last second, hesitating, and then walked calmly over to the coat rack and hung it up before he turned to Whumper.

“I want you—” Whumpee began but swallowed and looked away. He cursed and turned and ran a hand through his hair and cursed again. “Fuck… fuck! Fucking— fuck! God! Christ!”

Whumper’s eyebrow arched as he straightened, intrigued by his former Whumpee’s frustration. His dress shoes clacked against the cement of the basement and echoed back. Whumpee glanced over his shoulder at Whumper and shook his head, his hand ran down his face.

“Fuck, what are you doing, Whumpee?” Whumpee asked himself quietly. His whisper troubled and haunting, disbelief colouring his voice as it found Whumper’s ears.

Whumper narrowed his eyes. “Oh…” he said, realisation dawned on him as sudden and as cruel as his smirk that graced his lips. “Oh… you want me to hurt you, don’t you?”

Whumpee stiffened. Whumper’s smirk widened. “Oh that’s it, isn’t it, darling?”

Whumpee turned, eyes ablaze with a glare that only confirmed his guilty admission, that yes… that was exactly what he wanted. That was the reason he was here, but he didn’t want to beg. He didn’t want to ask. Whumper grinned.

“Don’t call me that,” Whumpee snapped. Whumper stepped closer and put his hand on Whumpee’s cheek, relishing as Whumpee flinched under his touch. Oh this was like the best Christmas gift he never asked for.

“But it is what you want, isn’t it?” Whumper pressed. Whumpee didn’t answer, but his eyes turned pleading. Whumper drank in his expression, abuzz with the notion of what Whumpee was doing here. A sick kind of satisfaction passed across Whumper’s features.

Whumpee hesitated as his eyes searched Whumper’s face. He reached a hand up and batted Whumper’s away from his face with a scoff. “Forget it,” he muttered and went to step past Whumper. “This was a mistake.”

Whumper allowed Whumpee to walk to the door. He turned in place, his eyes followed Whumpee’s conflicted back as he got to the door of freedom. Whumper didn’t stop him, but it seemed like that’s exactly what Whumpee wanted him to do. He didn’t even try to go for his jacket.

Whumper’s amusement grew. He undid the button on one of his shirt cuffs and slowly, methodically started rolling it up his forearm as Whumpee pressed his forehead against the door, no doubt having another conflict of delicious emotions.

“I’ll oblige you, of course, darling,” Whumper told Whumpee, unable to keep his smile from his face. Whumpee stiffened at the door, his palms flat on the door.

A shaky breath echoed through the basement.

Whumper started on his second cuff.

“You will?” Whumpee asked. His voice oh too quiet. Oh so vulnerable. It sent a shiver down Whumper’s spine.

“Of course.”

Whumpee turned to face Whumper, his expression suspicious but his eyes held that little glimmer of light, of hope that it would be that easy. Had Whumper taught him nothing, the poor dear.

“You just need to ask.”

Whumpee’s brows drew up, pained, his mouth flattened into a thin line. His fists opened and closed at his sides, drawing Whumper’s gaze. He trailed his eyes up Whumpee’s arm to his chest that rose and fell too quickly before going back to his conflicted face. Whumpee tried to keep his bluster up, but they both knew he would submit, it was only a matter of when.

“You’re a piece of shit.”

“I have been told that.”

“And I hate you.”

Whumper shrugged. “Well I didn’t force you to come to my house, Whumps.”

Whumpee’s eyes blazed. “Don’t call me that!”

Whumper dipped his chin. Whumpee’s face fell as Whumper started slowly towards him. Whumper tsked lightly, shaking his head.

“You’ve been too long without my guidance, Whumpee,” Whumper said. Whumpee opened his mouth, but no words came out and he shut it quickly when Whumper cocked a brow at him. “Good boy. Perhaps you remember some things I taught you.”

“I— I don’t- I don’t want to be yours, I just… I need—”

Whumpee stopped a foot in front of Whumpee. He slid his hands into his trouser pockets. “Yes Whumpee?”

Whumpee stifled a would be whine in his throat, his anger bubbling to the surface again.

“We both know what I want!” He snapped, throwing his hands wide, before he loosed a harsh breath and his hands ran through his hair. “I need you to… to…” he squeezed his eyes shut and yanked at the strands of hair between his fingers and turned away. “FUCK!”

“You need me to fuck?”

“Shut up!” Whumpee snapped, whirling on his heels. He gasped at how close Whumper was to him. He didn’t hear him move, but now there was barely any distance between them. A hand went to his throat and Whumpee froze in place.

His fingers still wound in his hair, elbows stretched out to the side of his head. The only thing that moved was his eyes which widened, revealing more of the whites of them to Whumper whose face was devoid of any emotion as Whumpee looked slightly down at him.

Whumper hummed, fingers tightening. Testing, teasing, remembering and Whumpee stood frozen. He urged his limbs to move but they refused. He couldn’t do anything at Whumper’s touch.

Whumper’s eyes went to Whumpee’s hoodie. He stepped back and moved his hands to the zip. The sound echoed in Whumpee’s head, deafening, his breath locked in his chest as Whumper pulled the jumper from his limbs.

The cold basement air kissed his bare arms and left traces of goosebumps in their wake. Whumper’s hand returned to Whumpee’s throat, a thumb on Whumpee’s pulse. He smiled.

“On your knees darling.”

Whumpee barely registered the order before his knees hit the concrete. He blinked, dazed and shivered as Whumper purred, “very good.”

Whumper’s hand went to Whumpee’s hair, his fingers lacing through the strands. He delighted in Whumpee’s flinches, his barely contained trembles. Maybe his Whumpee hadn’t forgotten everything. He tightened his fingers and yanked Whumpee’s head back so he could see those beautiful, pained pale eyes stare up at him. Pleading.

“Now, ask me what you want me to do to you.”

Whumpee couldn’t contain the whine in his throat this time. “Please, please. Don’t make—”

A slap echoed off the walls. Sharp. Crisp. Warm as heat spread across Whumpee’s cheek. Whumper wrenched Whumpee’s head back further. “I think you forget who gives who orders here, Whumpee.”

[defire]

Whumper lightly smacks whumpee's cheek. It's a warning, a way to make them flinch, or maybe just a reminder that they're nothing.

It happens so often that whumpee comes to expect it.

Later, Caretaker roughly pats whumpee's cheek to get their attention when they're so exhausted or low on blood that they are only semi-conscious.

Does whumpee take it as a comfort, feeling that they're familiar with being treated this way?

Do they flinch and say "no, please, I'm sorry"

Do their eyes wander downward and take on an empty expression?

Or maybe protest, like

"I'm not your property, you bastard."

Or slap their hand away.