#now gotta get the whumpees

[whumpspicelatte]

New Series

So, anyone interested in a series about a vampire hunter whumper and his pet training? Multiple whumpees, lots of whumper-turned-whumpee, pet whump, conditioning, vampire whumpees, you know, the works.

[b0amagination]

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

[whumpsday]

"Something's Wrong"

@medwhumpmay Day 17

Medwhump May Masterlist

content: demon whumpee, caretaking, hoof whump‼️, infection

heavily inspired by this video by the hoof gp, which can provide context, visuals, and terminology

-

All the farmhand had said was “Something weird’s in the barn.” The boy could have prepared him a little better than that.

Caretaker had never seen anything like it. The critter–was it really a critter?–huddled itself in the back corner of the barn. The cows gave it a wide berth, and none of them seemed injured, at least. It looked almost like what he could describe as a satyr of myth, with the head and torso of a man and the legs of a goat, spiral horns growing from his head.

There was another cloven-hooved being it fit the description of, though. Just to be safe, Caretaker made the sign of the cross. It didn’t seem to take any effect.

And yet, despite having never seen one before, Caretaker was somehow positive he was looking at a demon in his barn.

“Hoo boy.” Who was he supposed to call for this? The police? A priest? An exorcist?

Before he could make up his mind, the demon growled at him. Caretaker may work with cows, but he knew that when an animal growls at you, you stay away. He took a step back to the barn’s entrance.

“Easy now,” he said out of habit.

“Leave me alone,” the demon spat.

Caretaker blinked.

“You talk?” he asked incredulously.

“Leave me!” The demon’s voice broke a bit. It scrabbled further against the wall, wincing as it did so, as if the action hurt it. It held one hoof aloft, balancing on the other with its arms spread against the wall behind it.

It looked unnatural and uncomfortable and… familiar.

Something’s wrong, that little voice in his head said.

Caretaker put his hands up, taking another step back so he was fully out of the barn, looking in. “Alright. I’m all the way over here, not comin’ near you. That hoof bothering you?”

The demon glared at him, like it was trying very hard to be intimidating. “What’s it matter to you?”

“I fix hooves. I could take a look at it.” What the fuck was he saying? He should be taking this thing’s advice and leaving, calling someone to come get it out of his barn.

“Don’t touch me!” it shrieked, startling a few of the cattle.

If this demon were capable of hurting him, he was pretty sure it would’ve done it by now.

“Okay, okay, not gonna,” Caretaker assured it. “Not taking a step into this barn unless you give me the all-clear. I’m just saying, it looks painful. Usually when my cows won’t use a foot, means they’ve gotta get looked at.”

“I’m not a cow,” it glowered. And then, after a little hesitation: “It… hurts.”

“I can take a look. Only if you want. And only if you promise not to hurt me or my cows.” Even as Caretaker’s brain screamed at him that he was a dumbass about to get himself killed, he couldn’t stop himself. He’d done dumber.

They stood there in silence for a long moment.

“F-fine. Just do it,” the demon conceded.

“Alright. Not gonna hurt’cha. Just looking,” Caretaker reminded it. He approached slowly, no sudden moves. The closer he got, the more dread he felt, like the demon was radiating an aura of it. Still, he persisted, kneeling down in front of it, trying to ignore the feeling. “Can I see? It’d be easier if you turn around.”

Just as slowly, the demon extended its hoof. Caretaker took it gently by the ankle, resting it on his knee. He could feel the demon’s skin jump a little bit, but it let him. It was something he’d usually never dream of doing, but the demon was rather smaller than a cow and capable of reason, and Caretaker was sure he’d never get it to agree to go in a chute.

Coarse brown fur, rather unlike that of a goat, led to a dirty hoof. Despite the demon’s lower half looking like a goat from afar, its hoof looked more like a cow’s than anything else. Lucky, he knew what he was doing with that. Immediately, this close, it was apparent that the inkling he’d had was correct: the bit of the inner claw more toward the heel was higher than the rest, darker in color. If it were a cow, he’d start grinding it down to free the problem clearly lying inside, then get a block on the other toe to keep the pressure off while it healed.

But, as the demon had pointed out, it wasn’t a cow.

“Yeah, something’s wrong on your inner claw right here. Can’t tell exactly how bad without giving you a trim. I’ve got the tools to do it, if you’ll let me.” Caretaker dropped the hoof. “When’s the last time you got these trimmed?”

“Trimmed?” the demon asked, skepticism dripping from its voice as he went back to balancing, turning back around to face him.

“See, that’s where you’re going wrong. You’ve gotta trim your hooves.” Caretaker stood back up. “Two or three times a year for cows, that’s what I’ve got experience with. I know goats are more often. Not sure about demons, if that’s what you are. Maybe someplace in between.”

“I’ve never met anybody who trims their hooves,” the demon retorted.

“And do they get problems with ‘em a lot?”

The demon looked away. “Most demons fly. I don’t have wings.”

“Well, there’s your answer, then. Gotta trim ‘em.” Caretaker raised an eyebrow, waiting.

“Ugh. Fine.” It was almost cute, the way it pouted. Made Caretaker wish he could talk to all his patients.

“There you go,” he praised. “Lemme grab my tools.”

He returned with a grinder, a hoof knife, a block, glue, and a blowtorch. “I know it might look intimidating, but none of this should hurt. Reckon you’ll start to feel real better soon. Don’t kick me.”

The wariness never left the demon’s eyes, but it turned back around, hoof extended. “Just do your job, human.”

Well, that was something Caretaker could work with.

He knelt and rested the hoof on his knee again. “I’m going to grind down both toes to correct the height and balance the soles. Then I’ll use the knife to model them out and hopefully relieve that pressure. I’ll put a block on your good claw with the torch and glue, and that’ll let you walk on it and stay off the bad one while it heals,” he explained.

He started up the grinder, only for the demon to jump at the whirring. “What is that!?”

“The grinder. Won’t hurt you, just try to relax,” Caretaker soothed. “Let me know if you need a break and I’ll stop. You ready?”

The demon nodded hesitantly, and Caretaker touched the grinder to the hoof. Already, he could see a few cracks in that inner claw as soon as he got past the very surface. Once the toes were evened out, he took the knife for the more precise work.

He carefully chipped away at that cracked area, modeling it out, until finally, one of those little cracks opened, releasing a trickle of built-up fluid.

All at once, the demon relaxed. Its shoulders drooped, its entire being went from tightly wound up to the picture of relief. It let out a little sigh. “How did you do that?”

“You’ve got a cavity in your hoof right there, got filled with fluid.” He resisted the urge to say poor thing. “Just got to the tiniest opening and it started to get outta you. I’m gonna get this taken care of, so just sit tight for a few minutes.”

“Okay.” There was no hostility in the demon’s voice anymore. “Thank you.”

“You’re very welcome.” He kept chipping away at it, the cavity growing and growing until he’d exposed and drained the whole thing. The hoof horn was downright flexible with damage, but hopefully now it’d be able to dry and cure until it could grow back healthy. “I’m going to use the torch on your good hoof now, just to make sure it’s completely dry before I apply the block. It shouldn’t hurt, might feel a bit warm.”

The demon nodded, and Caretaker got to work. Just a quick thrice-over with the blowtorch was enough. He spread glue generously over the outer claw, then pressed the block into the hoof. He waited a few minutes for it to set, petting the demon’s shin a little. It seemed to appreciate that, appearing calmer by the minute.

“There. You should be all set,” he announced, setting the demon’s leg down. “Try walking on that block. You might be a little unsteady at first.”

Slowly, the demon touched its injured hoof to the floor. Only the block touched it, the cavernous claw raised up. It took only a few unsteady steps before it got the hang of it, walking confidently.

“It doesn’t hurt,” it said, amazed.

“Come back in a few weeks and I’ll take the block off. I’ll let the farmhands know I’m expecting you. Want me to trim your other hoof?” Caretaker offered. “So it stays healthy, too.”

The demon smiled. “I’d like that.”

-

Oneshots taglist:

@icyheart-and-friends

@kira-the-whump-enthusiast

@whuarri

@reborrowing

@paperprinxe

@what-if-i-just-did

Everything taglist:

@lilac-and-lemon-whumps

@t0rture-me

@whump-for-all-and-all-for-whump

@whumpshaped

@pigeonwhumps

@the-scrapegoat

@whumpycries

@lonesome--hunter

@whumpy-wyrms

@all-hail-pigeons

@wolfeyedwitch

@starfields08000

@jumpywhumpywriter

@scoundrelwithboba

[thriftyshark530]

I love when a stoic whumpee who pretends they don't like caretaker gets seriously wounded while protecting caretaker. Whumpee is now losing a serious amount of blood, and the two are far away from any hospital, so they need to treat the wound themselves. Only problem is, whumpee isn't letting caretaker get close enough to help. Whumpee keeps repeating "I'm fine" and "I don't need your help" over and over, pushing caretaker away when they get close. Caretaker tries negotiating with whumpee, but whumpee isn't having it. Caretaker gets too close to whumpee and whumpee pulls their weapon on caretaker in a desperate attempt to keep them away.

Caretaker's expression turns from shocked to defiant. "I'm going to come over there and help you, you do what you gotta do". Caretaker states, before walking towards whumpee.

Whumpee stares down caretaker, then lowers their weapon as caretaker gets close, no longer having the energy to fight back anymore. Caretaker begins cleaning and patching up whumpee's wounds, making sure to be gentle as to not hurt whumpee. Whumpee whispers an apology, explaining how they never received help in their life, and never trust anyone because of it. Caretaker explains how it's ok to ask for help, and let's whumpee know that they can always ask. When caretaker is done, whumpee begins staring at caretaker, looking like a lost puppy.

"I threatened to hurt you, why did you still insist on helping me?"

"I know you, whumpee. I knew you were bluffing" caretaker smiles, resting a hand on whumpee's shoulder.

Whumpee scoffs, looking away with a confused look. "You don't know the things I've done, caretaker"

"I know you saved me" caretaker cuts in. "You didn't have to, but you did. And I couldn't let you die, so I'd say we're even". Caretaker gives whumpee a gentle punch on the shoulder as they stand up, leaving whumpee to contemplate what just happened.

[holidayinhell]

CWs: vampire whumper, human whumpee, blood, dubcon smut, noncon

It was dark when Whumper slipped into Whumpee’s room. Even the light of the moon was absent that night.

Shadows danced across the walls, but Whumper’s eyes pierced through the darkness, his footsteps inaudible as he crossed the threshold, making his way towards the resting figure laying in bed, lost in sleep. 

He couldn’t resist drinking in every detail of the man’s slumbering face: the gentle curve of his soft, slightly parted lips, the dark lashes fanned delicately against his cheeks. Whumper liked him best like this—sprawled helplessly across the sheets, stripped of that usual, insufferable bravado.

Whumper’s eyes flickered. A shiver of desire crept in, sparked by the sight of Whumpee’s utter defenselessness. He wanted to take him then and there.

So much had changed since they’d last seen each other...

At least this was a familiar urge.

Whumper crawled on top of the sleeping man, the mattress sinking under him as he settled his weight over Whumpee’s slender hips.

He shouldn’t have come here. He shouldn’t be doing this. He should have stayed the fuck away. 

But it was getting increasingly harder to fight the bloodlust.

Whumpee shot awake with a terrified jolt.

“Hey. Easy there.”

“WHO THE FUCK?!” Whumpee’s heart pounded as he scrambled to make sense of the shadow looming over him.

“It’s me. Sorry to scare you.”

“Whumper? Jesus fuck!” Whumpee yelled, breathless as he gave Whumper a shaky shove to the chest. “Goddamn it. What the hell are you doing?!”

“Quiet,” Whumper murmured as he pressed a finger to Whumpee’s lips. “Shhhhh.”

Whumpee instinctively took a bite at the finger resting on his mouth.

“Hey.” Whumper snapped.

“Hey yourself, fucko! What did I tell you?!” Whumpee clutched his racing heart, terror still coursing through him. “You’re gonna fucking kill me some day. You’ve gotta stop doing this shit!”

"Sorry. Yeah. I know. But please, calm down," Whumper whispered softly. He gently caught Whumpee's wrists, pressing them back against the pillow. "Easy. Relax."

Whumpee let out a long, exhausted sigh as his frantic heartbeat settled. “Gah. I really thought you were some kind of fucking rapist burglar or something. You scared the shit of me.”

“I know. Sorry.”

There was a long pause as the two sat in the silence of their unspoken thoughts. 

Whumpee stared into the black of the room, his eyes straining to make out anything through the edgeless darkness. On top of him, Whumper watched the other quietly, taking in the lingering fear coursing through Whumpee’s veins, drinking in the thrill of his quickened heartbeat.

Impatient as ever, Whumpee broke the silence first. “Where have you even been?” He piped up.

Whumper couldn’t answer that truthfully. “Why? Did you miss me, Whumpee?”

“No. I didn’t,” Whumpee spat. “But thanks for popping by and scaring the shit out of me anyways.”

Whumpee quickly turned over to reach for the bedside lamp. But just as his fingers grazed the switch, he was interrupted by Whumper’s mouth locking to his lips.

Whumpee jerked away from the sudden, uninvited kiss.

“Fuck you.”

Whumper chuckled. “We can, if you want.”

Whumpee gritted his teeth, trying to squirm free. Whumper hadn’t bothered to call in weeks, and now he showed up in the middle of the night, literally breaking into his house, sneaking into his bedroom, and he what, expected to bone?

“I don’t think so. Get off of me.”

“Don’t be like that.” Whumper chuckled, his hands tracing Whumpee’s collarbone, traversing his touch to the man’s shoulders. His grip slowly tightened around the bony knobs. “I wanted to see you. Sorry I scared you.”

“Dude.” Whumpee tried to shimmy out of his grasp, thrashing to free himself from under Whumper’s weight. “Stop pissing me off.”

“Stop being so fucking dramatic.”

“Then stop scaring the shit out of me at 3 am! Get off!!”

Whumper didn’t move. Instead, he pressed his mouth against Whumpee’s neck, diving into the exposed, soft skin. He planted delicate kisses along the exquisite curve of the other’s throat, each glide of his tongue igniting a trail of goosebumps that danced across Whumpee’s flesh.

“Don’t be such a baby.” Whumper hummed in a low, sultry voice. “I just wanna make you feel good.”

The heat of his breath sent immediate shivers down Whumpee’s spine. Fuck, it felt good—too good. But fuck him, too.

The strong man continued to suckle at the tender area, the warmth of his lips coaxing a soft sigh from the defenseless plaything pinned beneath him. 

Enthralled by the mounting pleasure, Whumpee let his head roll back deeper into the downy pillow, instinctively granting Whumper better access to his neck. Whumpee was a mess of feelings, torn between frustration and the undeniable tightening in his boxers.

“I—nnf. I fucking hate you,” he managed to rasp.

“That’s fine,” Whumper replied with a teasing lilt. "Hate me if you want.”

Whumper’s tongue swirled around Whumpee’s earlobe. Hot, heavy breaths pervaded his senses.

“I know you like this.”

Yes. He loved it.

And he fucking missed it. 

Whumpee’s breath stuttered. Whumper seemed different somehow. Quiet. Intense. Feral. 

There was electricity in the air, a curious energy drew him into the man. As intoxicating as it was, it filled Whumpee with apprehension. As much as he craved the exhilarating pull of Whumper’s touch, a gnawing feeling in his head warned him to keep his distance.

He tried to put an end to it. “It’s nice, but. No. Not tonight.” 

“Shh…” Whumper’s hand dove into the elastic of Whumpee’s waistband. He’d forgotten how persistent Whumper could be.

“I don’t think I can—ah,” The strong hand in his underwear grasped his member, pumping him until his eyes rolled back. God damn it felt good. “Ah—I’ve got stuff to do, ah-!”

“Fuck you smell good.”

Whumpee quivered under the heavy shadow, fists clenching. “Whumper. No. I’ve got stuff to do. In the. In the morning.” 

“Just a little longer,” Whumper hummed. “Come on. It’s been a while…”

Whumpee wanted to hate it—he wanted to lash out, cuss at him, and kick Whumper’s ass right out the door. But fuck, he needed this. Touch-starved from more than a month of no contact, Whumpee yearned for him; he ached to surrender to Whumper, to be held down and pounded into the ground.

Whumper didn’t deserve this from him, though. He knew he shouldn’t give in. He needed to set better boundaries. And yet, he could feel his resolve crumble with every passing second.

Whumpee’s hips buckled as Whumper’s hand continued stroking his cock. He’d chew Whumper out about this later, he decided, drinking in the weight of the muscular thighs pressing him into the mattress. For now he’d enjoy this.

“You smell so good...” Whumper leaned in, planting a firm kiss on Whumpee’s lips as he pulled the slender man’s body off the bed and into his arms, rocking his hips against the other as he gathered him close.

“Mmm. Thanks. You smell…” Whumpee murmured, his voice low and playful as he caught a whiff of Whumper’s scent. “Uh. Kinda like dirt.”

He hadn’t noticed initially, but the smell of rain clung to Whumper’s shirt, filling Whumpee’s nose with its damp, earthen aroma. It smelled especially sharp, mineral-rich, like a mixture of wet soil and stone.

“Wait. Are you muddy? Your shirt is wet. And like, dripping all over m--,” 

Whumper silenced him with another kiss, his hands sliding Whumpee’s underwear down his thighs. Now that he was naked he was more keenly aware of Whumper’s almost… stickiness?

“Seriously, if you got mud in my bed, I swear…” Whumpee muttered. 

“Okay. Stop talking now.”

Whumper roughly pushed Whumpee backwards onto his pillow. He clutched his sharp hips, flipping the man over onto his belly.

“Woah woah woah. Wait!”

“Don’t worry.”

“Wait!” Whumpee repeated, scrambling to lift his chest away from the bed. “I don’t think--”

“Stop moving.”

“Wait. No really, Whumper. I don’t think we should. It’s late.”

“It’s alright.” Whumper purred, tracing a line down Whumpee’s spine with his index finger, delivering a crisp smack to Whumpee’s ass. “I’ll be fast.”

“Dude.” Whumpee shook his head with a weary sigh. “I’m not your personal fuck toy, you know.”

“Sure you are.”

Whumper grabbed the back of Whumpee’s head, shoving his face into the plush pillow and holding it there.

Whumpee’s chest tightened as he tried to catch a breath through the fabric. He thrashed beneath the man pinning him to the bed, refusing to give Whumper the satisfaction of giving in.

“Mmph! MMF MFF!”

“Lay still,” Whumper murmured, ignoring the muffled protests beneath him. “It’ll all be over soon.”

Whumpee twisted his head back once more, only to have it slammed back into the pillow again.

“Don’t look at me.” Whumper commanded, his tone edging on desperation. “Sorry. Please just.”

A hot, wet finger entered Whumpee, and then another. Globs of saliva fell onto his rim, and busy fingers immediately kneaded the moisture inside him. Whumpee kicked his legs out in protest. 

Owwwww. Whumpee moaned into the pillow. It hurt. It fucking burned in his ass, boiled in his stomach. It was all happening entirely too fast.

“Sorry-- for a second. Don’t move.”

Then, without warning, Whumper pressed his enormous cock against Whumpee’s hole. He rammed it against the entrance, eagerly cramming his way inside.

Whumpee lifted his head, letting out a blood-curdling scream.

A strong hand cupped his mouth, silencing his wails. Whumper’s full weight bore down on him as he mercilessly pounded his cock into Whumpee, hand covering his mouth and nose.

The pain was excruciating, devoid of anything remotely close to pleasure.

Next to that, Whumpee could barely breathe.

Whumpee’s tongue jabbed at the palm keeping his mouth closed, wiggling it between Whumper’s fingers.

Holy shit. Holy shit. His ass was on fire and he could barely breathe. 

Scrambling for oxygen, he dug his fingernails into Whumper’s arms, clawing at the flesh with all the strength he could muster. The man on top of him paid no mind. He continued plowing Whumpee into the sheets, merciless and unyielding, refusing to remove his suffocating hand until the man’s thrashing faded into weak, sporadic kicks. 

When Whumpee finally went limp, the hand released its grip. Whumpee gasped for air, taking a deep, ragged breath, and then he screamed. 

“WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU?!”

Fueled by adrenaline, he twisted his body and lunged toward the lamp on his bedside table.

When the light flicked on, it revealed a horrifying scene. 

All he saw was red.

Red staining his sheets, seeping through the fabric like thick, viscous ink. Red handprints were stamped onto his white pillowcase, smears of red streaked across the white walls and carpet. Whumpee glanced down, and his breath caught; his naked body was coated in it too, like a sticky second skin.

It wasn’t mud that he’d smelled on Whumper.

Frozen in place, Whumpee stared blankly at the man sitting on his bed. 

He must’ve been drenched in gallons of blood. The thick, sticky red stained Whumper’s hands, dripped from his chin, and splattered across his face. The sight was torn straight from a nightmare.

Whumper shook his head slowly, an unsettling calmness in his demeanor.

“You shouldn’t have done that.”

His gaze locked on Whumpee, intense and unblinking. A feral, predatory glint in his eye gave a promise of what was to come next.

“Wha-wh-what is…” Whumpee stammered. His pulse hammered in his ears and drowned out all rational thought. His mind screamed at him to run, but his body refused to obey. “Why are you-- i-is that--?!”

“I need more, Whumpee,” the blood-soaked monster pleaded, desperation ringing his voice. “Just a taste.”

“Why are you…?.” Panic kicked into overdrive and Whumpee smacked the man away.

“Just give it to me” Whumpee went in for another hit, but Whumper caught his wrist mid-air, pulling the other into him.

“Please. I don’t want to have to make you.” The hunger pressed against the edges of Whumper’s mind. One quick taste was worth any price.

“FUCK OFF!” Whumpee yelled. “HELP! Somebody, hel--!”

He kicked at Whumper, flailing until his body was thrown from the bed. He could do this. He could make it out of here. He scrambled across the floor, desperately crawling to the doorknob, eager arm outstretched.

Just as Whumpee reached the exit, a brutal grip seized his wrist, wrenching his arm behind his back, sending his cheek crashing into the hardwood floor. 

Whumper climbed on top of Whumpee for the final time. 

“H-help me. Oh my god, oh fucking god…”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t want to hurt you.”

The world around him blurred and spun around Whumpee, every sound distant as pain pulsed from his head and radiated through his body.

“Whumper—W-Whumper please—!”

“I tried.”

“Whumper!” he shrieked. “Don’t!”

“I’m sorry, Whumpee.”

“I-I don’t know what you did.” Whumpee cried. “I won’t tell anyone. I won’t. Don’t...!”

“Doesn’t matter…” he leaned in closer, his breath warm and heavy against Whumpee’s skin. “Sorry. I can’t control it anymore.”

“Don’t d-do this!” 

Whumper pressed his fangs against the soft curve of Whumpee’s neck. 

“Sorry, Whumpee,” he whispered. “I’m just so fucking hungry.”

((more Whump oneshots))

[whumper-whimsy]

@augusnippets day 19

Collared / Branded / Chipped

Captivity, pet whump, kidnapping, noncon surgery

°

Whumpee groaned, opening his eyes. He had no idea where he was or why he wasn't waking up in his own bed. All he knew was his head ached painfully, and the lights were way too bright.

"Ahh, there we are!" a man spoke cheerfully beside Whumpee, and he turned, squinting his eyes against the bright light. The man gasped softly. "Oh, I'm sorry, puppy. Are the lights too harsh. Let me get that for you."

The lights dimmed, and Whumpee could look around. The man he was speaking to was a tall, muscular man with a sweet smile. He was in a small room with a bed, stuffed animals, a mini fridge, and a large kennel.

Whumpee was lying on a metal table with the man standing over him. He seemed friendly enough, but the circumstances seemed to prove otherwise.

"Where am I..? What did you call me?" Whumpee sat up, only to be pushed back down gently.

"Just relax. You don't need to worry."

Whumpee felt a stinging in his arm, looking over to find it bandaged. "W- why is my arm—"

"I chipped you! Gotta make sure my new puppy can't run off!" Whumper grinned, lifting a collar and snaking out around his throat. "Now... let's see if we can't get you trained."

[cepheusgalaxy]

Takes your whumpee and turns them into a vampire and now they gotta drink human blood to get strenght but they refuse to so they just slowlyyyyy decay until the hunger is so big they can't trust themselves to be around their loved ones without so much self restraint and covering their mouths and looking away everytime someone scratches their arm

[3-2-whump]

The Scent of Jasmine

<prev next>

Who's in the mood for some carewhumping after the emotional rollercoaster of almost dying? I know I am!

Thank you @whumped-by-glitter and @generic-whumperz for being awesome beta readers

TW/CW: aftermath of mock execution, trauma aftermath, extremely dubious consent, nonverbal whumpee, whumper turned carewhumper, dubiously consensual nudity, death threats, chastity devices (yes, it’s back), forced domesticity, food whump (sort of) (tagging it anyway to cover my bases), intimate whumper

The boss noticed Khaled’s grateful enthusiasm slowly fade into a catatonic silence on the drive home. He didn’t think much of it, though. Poor boy is just shocked is all, he told himself, we can work on that. He parked, got out of the car and led Khaled out of the garage and to the elevator.

His first order of business was to strip Khaled when they got home. The poor thing was soaked in melted snow and cooled piss. He was barely responsive as Thomas pulled him into the laundry room and slowly peeled each layer of clothing off his shivering body. “You need a bath, Khaled.”

Khaled didn’t reply, instead opting to stare at his bare feet with empty, starless eyes. I can’t blame him for being quiet. Anyone would be a little messed up after a mock execution, he figured. He sighed, gently taking the slave’s hand in his and leading him to the master bathroom.

Once inside, Thomas deposited him at the entrance and turned on the lights and the fan. Khaled stood silently watching him by the door as he knelt by the large, deep bath tub. “Come on in,” he beckoned. Khaled inched closer to the bath tub as Thomas poured a generous glug of bubble bath solution into the marble expanse and cranked the water full-blast, making micro-adjustments to make sure the temperature wasn’t too hot. As a finishing touch, he uncapped a tiny bottle of jasmine oil and dripped a few drops into the tub. The floral scent rose on the plumes of steam coming from the frothing tub.

Once the tub was full enough, Thomas turned off the tap and pulled Khaled closer to the tub. He effortlessly scooped the young man’s cold body into his arms, settling him on the edge of the bath tub before gently lowering him in. “I’m going to help you wash your hair and body. Nod if you understand me.”

Khaled faintly nodded, eyes fully closing as he slumped into the soapy water. “Good boy.” Nothing but a small, contented sounding whimper answered him. At least he’s becoming verbal again.

Thomas methodically washed the young man’s body and hair, being mindful of not getting any soap in his eyes as he massaged his scalp with the shampoo. He noticed the newly forming chafe marks on Khaled’s wrists as he scrubbed his body. All the while he whispered sweet nothings into his ear, like “good boy, you’re being so good right now, we’re almost done, I gotta rinse you off and drain the tub next.”

The awareness in Khaled’s eyes was flickering back on once Thomas helped him out of the bath tub and began towel-drying him. “Back with me, beautiful?” he teased.

“Mmm.” Inky dark eyes glittered up at him from dark lashes and damp strands of black hair as Thomas wrapped a soft fluffy towel around his shoulders.

“Yeah, good. Very good.” He procured something small and metallic from behind his back.

Khaled instinctively backed away as soon as he saw what it was. “Khaled,” he warned. It was all he needed to say for the boy to stay rooted on the spot. “I haven’t forgotten about you running around and getting an STD,” he explained as he wrapped the cock cage around Khaled’s privates. “And I’m still mad about it. But maybe I will let you out once we’re both all better.” He padlocked it in place and held the small caged appendage in his hand. “Or once I put that dumpster lover of yours under, like the horndog he is. Whichever comes sooner.” He marveled at how it was but a microcosm of Khaled’s greater captivity. As he craned his gaze upwards, he saw Khaled pout. “Oh, don’t give me that look –I’m doing this for your own good!” The boy smoothed his frown back into a neutral expression of apathy as he hid his eyes behind his lashes.

“That’s more like it. Now, can you change into your pajamas and wait in the living room until Master is done in here?” He measured out his words slowly and carefully, explaining it as if Khaled was a child again. Another quiet hum answered him. “Good boy. When I’m done, we can eat, and then we’ll watch whatever you’d like.” He gestured him out with a small wave of the hand, then hopped into the shower for a quick rinse off himself.

When he got out of the shower, towel-dried himself, and changed into a fresh pair of flannel pants and a wife-beater tank top, Thomas made his way to the living room, where Khaled sat on the floor, at the foot of the couch, gazing down at the carpet with desolate eyes. He was still wrapped in the bath towel. Seeing him there brought back memories of when Khaled was younger, when he would lean against his shins and let him brush his thick black hair. The memory brought back fond feelings in Thomas’ chest. He turned around and went back to the bathroom for a hairbrush.

Once he was done brushing his slave’s hair, they ended up sitting opposite each other at the dining room table, each with a plate of reheated takeout from a new Indian restaurant Tom had wanted to try. While the boss himself ravenously devoured the bhuna ghost, Khaled kept tearing the same corner of buttered naan between his fingers while staring apathetically at the murgh cholay.

“Are you sure you don’t want any more food?” he asked again. “You hardly touched your portion.”

The boy merely shook his head.

“Come on, at least two more bites, Khaled,” he coaxed. “Give me at least two more bites before I put it away.”

Khaled cast him an empty, weary stare, not breaking eye contact as he tore off the weathered chunk of bread, dipped it into the curry, and ate exactly two more bites.

They ended up cuddling onto the couch together after dinner, a rarity in their household. Thomas man-spread on the couch and rested his arms outstretched along the back. Khaled, still wearing nothing but a damp bath towel around his shoulders, leaned against his side with his head resting on his chest. His hands curled around a steaming mug of chai, which he occasionally sipped as they watched a rerun of the AFC World Cup. Khaled didn’t cheer, or groan, or offer any commentary of any kind throughout the whole match. It was unusual for Khaled to remain this quiet and glum during a game. Thomas gently took the mug from his hands and set it on the table. “What’s wrong? Why are you so quiet this evening? Is it –oh, is it because of that little scare off the side of the road?” he guessed. Khaled pushed his weight up against him, just short of burrowing into the man’s side.

“I guess I scared you pretty badly, didn’t I? Look, I’m sorry,” he apologized. “I know now it wasn’t you, but I had to be sure. I promise I will never fake you out like that again.”

The young man remained silent as he leaned against his chest.

“If anything, you should be blaming that boyfriend of yours,” he continued. “I bet he never would’ve attempted that hit if he knew what I was about to do to you tonight. But, what’s done is done, and now you’ll never see him again.”

Khaled did not respond.

It took about an hour more of mind-numbing soccer footage for him to realize the boy had fallen asleep on him.

Oh. He softly smiled as he turned off the TV. He carefully got up and lowered Khaled onto the couch, disentangling the towel from his unconscious, nude form. He propped a throw pillow behind his head, then unfurled a fleece blanket and draped it over him, making sure his feet were covered and he was properly tucked in for the night. “Goodnight, Khaled,” he whispered, leaning in to plant a soft kiss on the side of the boy’s parted lips. “I… love you...”

Le Tag List: @kabie-whump @rainydaywhump @whumped-by-glitter @skittles-the-whumpee @generic-whumperz @bamber344 @there-will-always-be-blood @morning-star-whump @a-la-whump @watermelons-dont-grow-on-trees @defire

[whumpiswonderful]

Ok but like- caretake rescuing whumpee and being so close to breakdown they can only hold them as they are half conscious and THEN the other teammate 1 is like “yo their coming we gotta-“ and they just can’t- so teammate 2 breaks it to them gently “caretaker we gotta go. Come on. We have them, we can keep them safe now, but we gotta get them out of here.”

[whumpsday]

Kane & Jim #56: Else

Chronological masterlist / Writing order masterlist

content: recovery and lots of it, angst, sickfic, accidental emotional whump, fear of starvation, vampire whumpee, whumper turned whumpee (turned caretaker), reunions

Whumpmas in July Day 18: "Or else"

i'm sorry for being so slow with k&j chapters! i'm going to try to be quicker with them in the future. here's one people have been waiting for for a very long time!

-

“You’re sick.”

Jim blinked, taken aback. “What?”

“You’re sick,” Kane repeated, taking another sip from the bowl. One of his last bowls before he was to start finding his own elsewhere. “I can taste it.”

“What? What kind of sick? Is it serious?” Jim asked with increasing urgency. Kane could see it in his eyes: he knew fear, and he hated to see it in Jim.

He wanted more than anything to reassure him, but he couldn’t lie. “I-I don’t know?” he admitted. “I don’t know much of human illnesses. You seem… fine?”

“Shit. Shit shit shit.” Jim grabbed his coat. “I’ll be back soon. I gotta… go to the doctor, or something. Door,” he warned.

“I’m sorry. I’m sure you’ll be okay! You can’t even feel it! You’re a healthy young man!” Kane assured him, ducking into the kitchen.

“Thanks for warning me!” Jim’s voice was laden with nerves. A flash of sunlight made Kane shiver, and he only returned to the living room when it was gone.

Kane knew what this meant: Jim would likely not finish out the week. This was his last meal given. He would have to go to vampire territory tonight, or else he would have nothing to eat come tomorrow. He had to find blood tonight, or else he’d starve. He’d go back to that horrible, empty state, always wanting, always in pain.

He knew Jim wouldn’t really let that happen, but it wasn’t fair to rely on him for blood forever, either. Kane had taken enough, with and without permission. It was Jim’s turn to rest.

Still, the fear of hunger never left him. It was a part of him now, permanently, no matter how much he fed.

And this meant one thing. The thing he’d been putting off and dreading since Jim set him free.

He would have to go to vampire territory and talk to his parents. He knew already that it would not go over well. Father would be either furious or crushingly disappointed that he’d allowed himself to be humiliated by humans, and he wasn’t sure which was worse. Mother would undoubtedly be the latter. He wondered, not for the first time, if they preferred him ‘dead’.

It shouldn’t matter. He knew now that they weren’t… good people. He could see that. He had a new family of sorts, now that Jim had taken him in.

But Jim wasn’t his legal next of kin, and Jim wasn’t the one he had to ask if he wanted his money returned so he could buy blood.

He could always get a job. But it seemed ridiculous to do when he had money sitting right there, and he would likely be found by his parents at some point anyway. There was no avoiding it forever.

Kane drank the bowl down quickly.

-

It was a flu, apparently. Nothing life-threatening, but it set Jim’s anxieties alight. His parents had died of illness, he explained.

While Kane had managed to catch it early, Jim started to devolve within a few hours of arriving home.

Kane knocked on his bedroom door. “Jim? Can I come in?”

“Ugh. Yeah,” he agreed.

Carefully balancing the tray, he entered. He found Jim curled up in bed, looking miserable.

“I’ve brought you lunch.” He’d been practicing his human food skills. He was still quite afraid of the stove, so though he used it when feeling especially brave, he mainly stuck to things that didn’t require cooking. He’d written down several combinations of foods that humans found appetizing, which could often be served in between slices of bread as a ‘sandwich’.

But he needed a tray instead of a plate, because despite his strength, he simply didn’t have enough hands to carry the six cups of water circled around it.

“Lotta water,” Jim noted weakly, grabbing a glass and taking a sip when Kane brought it close. His hand shook, the liquid threatening to spill. Kane watched it close, ready to steady it in a heartbeat if Jim needed him to.

He spoke gently, like he was worried speaking too loud would break Jim in his fragile state. “...Like I’d mentioned, I don’t know much about human illness. Most of what I know comes from you. I just remember… you wanted a lot of water, last time.”

He thought about that time a lot. How he was so close to losing Jim, because he was too proud to listen.

“Ah. Yeah.” Jim wouldn’t look him in the eye. “I remember.”

Kane set the tray down. “I should have taken better care of you,” he whispered. “I’m sorry. I mean–I shouldn’t have had you in the first place, but I did, and you were my responsibility, and I didn’t care for you like I should have.” A hint of tears in his eyes, he took Jim’s unusually-sweaty hand. “I’ll do better this time. Anything you need, I’ll be there.”

That earned a small smile from Jim. “Guess it isn’t so bad being waited on. ‘Specially because you can’t get sick, right?” The smile faded. “…Right?”

“I can’t,” Kane assured him. “You don’t need to worry. Just rest, and I’ll take care of anything you need.”

Jim huffed an almost-laugh. “You really changed, man.”

-

Liz did come over to visit come nightfall, which was good, since despite his promises, Kane had to leave. He didn’t like the thought of leaving Jim alone at night. He knew it made him scared, and Jim deserved to never feel afraid ever again. She brought a container of soup, a yellow liquid with colorful plants and large white orbs floating in it.

He waited, patient, until Liz emerged from Jim’s room. “Liz?”

“Hey. Thanks for looking after him,” Liz said.

“Of course!” The praise spread warmly through him. “There’s, um, something I wanted to talk to you about, if you have the time? Advice, I suppose.”

“Shoot,” she encouraged, flopping over on the couch.

Kane took a deep breath. “So, um, I assume now is a good time to start getting my own blood.”

“Yyyyeah.” Liz shot a glance to the stairs leading to Jim’s room. “I’d say that’s about right.”

“Blood… isn’t free. I have the money–had the money, but I’ve likely been assumed dead for many years. I’ll need to go to my parents to get it back,” he explained. “My parents are not kind people, I’ve come to realize.”

Liz raised an eyebrow, but politely refrained from making any comments about his former obliviousness. “You think they won’t give it back? Isn’t there, like, laws? This can’t be the first time this has happened with vampires, you guys are too good at not dying.”

“No! No, that’s not it, they’d give it back. It’s just, um, they’ll be… quite upset with me, I think. Especially my father.” He sighed. “I didn’t want to talk about it with Jim. I was worried he would feel pressured into giving me more blood than he’s comfortable with. I don’t know. It shouldn’t be as big a deal as it is. I’ve been through so much worse, I don’t understand why this is so terrifying. I suppose I’ve just never failed this badly before.”

“Hey, you made it out of five years with those monsters, alive. Bet there’s not a lot of vampires who could say that,” Liz pointed out.

“Ah, that’s just… not how Father would see it,” Kane said vaguely. Humans were supposed to be the weak ones. The fact that it took him five years to be freed, and he couldn’t even do it himself, would make him an utter embarrassment in their eyes.

And it was all because he couldn’t use persuasion. Everything they’d always believed about him, proven true.

Liz pursed her lips, lost in thought for a moment. “I don’t remember my parents that well,” she admitted. “I know yours suck pretty bad. I don’t think you have to admit more than you need to, right? Like, do they even need to know where you’ve really been? You could just make something up, for the sake of keeping the peace.”

“Make something up…” Kane murmured. He shook his head. “I’m not a very good liar. They’d see right through me. It’s fine, actually, the more I talk about it, the more I realize I’m being a bit ridiculous.” He forced a laugh. “It’s one uncomfortable conversation and then I can come back home.”

“You’ve got this.” Liz patted him lightly on the back, a modification from her usual clap she’d learned tended to scare him. “You’re tough.”

Kane certainly didn’t feel ‘tough’.

“Thank you. It was nice to at least… get it out of my system. Oh, and congratulations. Jim told me about you and Laken.”

Liz smiled. “After what happened, I just knew I had to say something, you know? If they could just be taken from me at any moment. Stuff happens. People die. I didn’t want something to happen to one of us before I could tell them how I feel.”

She stood. “I can give you one more night’s worth, maybe two. If you need some time to think about it and all.”

Kane startled. He and Liz had grown far more amicable over the past months, but he hadn’t expected this from her.

Maybe he should have. It wasn’t the first time. He thought of Jim, on that first night, vehemently denying Liz’s offer to provide blood, vowing to do it himself.

“...Thank you. That means so, so much to me. It’s alright, though. I’ll go tonight,” he decided.

“Good luck. We’ll be here when you get back,” she promised.

And that was all he really needed, in the end.

Kane got up, heading to the door with a quick glance back to make sure it was alright. For the freedom he’d earned, he hadn’t gone more than ten feet from the house since he’d returned with Laken. But of course, Liz made no move to stop him. “I’ll see you soon.”

-

The night was as beautiful as ever, even in the cool autumn air. He liked it better this way, in fact. It made it more comfortable to wear more clothing, the long pants and long sleeves and jacket he liked, especially when he ran. When he went this fast, he hardly felt the cold, and his mind was occupied elsewhere.

What if his parents made demands of him in exchange for their help? What if they expected him to return to vampire territory, to isolate himself out of the way in a socially-acceptable manner? Now that he’d tasted true companionship, he almost couldn’t bear to give it up. And what about Jim? Ever since Laken’s abduction, he’d been more scared at night. The very least Kane owed him was his protection.

His petty worries disappeared the instant he realized he could hear a vehicle coming closer.

Kane ran faster, opposite the sound. He’d likely been pushing fifty miles an hour before, and could make sixty if he tried–but he was out of practice, and the vehicle was faster.

A glance behind him showed moonlight glinting off a silver crossbow.

“I have permission!” he wailed as the off-roader gained, heart threatening to burst from his chest. This couldn’t happen, not again, no. Jim and Liz wouldn’t even think to look for him until a day had passed, a day that could easily be spent baking in the hot sun. “Liz Lieberman granted me permission to cross! Please, I didn’t do anything! Mercy!”

“Kane?” an unfamiliar voice called. The vehicle caught up to him, but there was no attack. “Oh shit, it’s you!” the driver said. “It’s so dark, I almost didn’t recognize you from the picture Laken showed us. Thanks for bringing ‘em back.”

Kane slowed, just a bit. “What?” he squeaked, tears streaming down his face.

The hunter in the passenger seat elbowed his partner, making quick movements with his hands that Kane could not understand. A signed language of some sort, he assumed. Though he didn’t know much about such things, other than that spoken orders under persuasion often didn’t work on humans who utilized it.

“Uh, my partner wants to know if you’re good? Like, you’re alright?” The driver asked. “Did we scare you? Sorry. Just, uh, you know, gotta be quick with the other guys. One second wasted and you miss ‘em, and that’s someone’s whole life, y’know.”

“Oh. Um, yes, you’d–you’d frightened me. I’m sorry.” Kane wasn’t quite sure what he was apologizing for. “Am I… free to go, sirs?”

“Yeah! Yeah, you can go… sir? Shoot, don’t let us keep you,” the hunter assured.

The one in the passenger seat made more hand-signs, waving him goodbye after. “Nice to meet you!” the other translated, finally driving away.

Kane picked up speed again and didn’t stop until he was sure he’d left the border far behind. He collapsed to the ground, gasping for breath.

He was so close to going back to the pain. If they hadn’t recognized him, he would have been skewered with silver–likely soon killed, not tortured, given they were from Liz’s guild, but still, he would have died in pain. No matter how hard he breathed, he felt like he couldn’t get enough air, and he wasn’t sure if it was that he’d been sprinting for too long or the sheer horror.

He wanted Jim. He wanted Jim to hold him and tell him everything was alright, that he was safe, that no one was going to hurt him. But Jim was miles and miles away, and could not help him here.

And he couldn’t cry on the ground forever. He was burning moonlight, and he needed blood.

Kane forced himself to his feet and wrapped his arms around him. If he squeezed his eyes tight, he could pretend he wasn’t alone, for just a moment.

After a minute like that, he started running once more.

-

By the time Kane reached his parents’ estate, he’d mostly calmed down. It was hard to feel as though hunters would ambush him out of nowhere when he went deep enough into vampire territory to see buildings and people. Any hunter here would be apprehended in seconds.

He touched the gate, brass-coated, though he knew there was silver underneath. There seemed to be some sort of electronic device attached to it, a new addition since his last visit, but he wasn’t sure how to use it. He could climb it, or simply shout, and one of the staff would likely hear him. If he wanted to be extra polite, which he did, he could simply stand here until someone came or went and ask to be let in.

And then that would be it. Kane would be standing face-to-face with his parents. He would accept Father’s ire without complaint. He’d had worse, he reminded himself, even when it came to the comparable. The hunters had spit on him while calling him worthless, ground his face into the floor while forcing him to decry himself as beneath them. It had been so much worse.

His hand shook against the gate.

You’ve really changed, man.

Had he? If he was still back here, ready to take whatever judgments his parents threw at him, debase himself and eagerly beg for their forgiveness, had he really changed? There were humans in there. Captive, hurt humans who he could never in a thousand years be able to free if he tried, locked away in their quarters. What happened to all his regrets? His vows that he would never associate with anything of the sort again?

What would he have done differently here before, if he’d realized back then everything he knew now?

Kane left.

-

It took him a bit to find it, he hadn’t been to this town before, but it wasn’t far, and he knew the address.

There was a different kind of dread this time. If he was rejected here, it might be even worse than his parents. But as he rang the doorbell, he knew this was what he had to do.

The man who answered looked almost exactly the same as the last time he’d seen him, thirteen years ago. The same dark skin, perfect hair, typically garishly-colorful shirt.

Bellamy’s eyes went impossibly wide, as though he’d seen a ghost.

“Kane?”

taglist in reblogs, chapter 57 coming july 30th :)

edit: sorry i was wrong about july 30th. it's coming thoooo i promise

@whumpmasinjuly

[bluenotebooks11]

Hi hi :D, how about recovering whumpee in caretaker's home getting recaptured by whumper as a prompt?

did someone say escape/recapture??? *sprints in your direction and tackles you* /vpos

cw: breaking in, incredibly mild manhandling, some threatening, can be read as intimate whumper but it’s pretty ambiguous so yk. lmk what i missed!!

———

“Well. You’re quite lost, aren’t you?”

Whumpee recognized the voice in milliseconds, and it cleared the sleepy haze from their mind instantly. It’s the same voice that plagued their nightmares, the same voice that taunted them through every pain, through every ounce of lost blood and every dripping tear. Whumpee found themselves frozen in the bed, unmoving, staring at the wall in front of them and waiting to please, please wake up.

Whumper’s hand landed on their shoulder, resting idly there like this was the most casual thing in the world. Whumpee didn’t dare move. Moving did nothing but hurt; they knew that.

“C’mon,” Whumper sighed, carefully flipping Whumpee onto their back. “No more playing pretend. You’ve gotta head home now.”

Whumper pushed Whumpee to a sitting position, their touch deceptively gentle. Whumpee stared at their lap. Their eyes glimmered in the moonlight with tears they didn’t let themselves shed.

“I… I can’t…” Whumpee began, unsure of what they were about to say.

“No, Whumpee.” Whumper snapped, their voice gaining a familiar edge. “Don’t say a word. You’re in enough trouble as it is.” Their hand was over Whumpee’s mouth, then, their nails just barely poking their cheeks. “Don’t make me hurt you here, not when we’re both so tired. Just get up. Come willingly, and I’ll consider going easier on you.”

Whumpee obliged.

[holidayinhell]

CWs: discussion of future torment/ alludes to noncon

“How are you going to— h-how are you going to kill me?”

 “Why?”

Whumpee shrugged weakly.

“Dunno. Lots of ways, Whumpee.” He traced Whumpee's hollow cheek lightly with his index finger. “I can’t pick only one. Gotta see all the different ways I can make ya squirm.”

The younger man wasn’t phased by the answer. He was used to the psychopath’s brutal honesty.

“What’s your favorite way to kill someone?”

It was the terror that he relished, not the act of killing itself. Getting them on the table was the height of the excitement for Whumper. The torture was enjoyable to a point, but by the time the endorphins kicked in the whole thing became work as usual. Not that Whumpee needed to know that.

“However I kill you will be my favorite, I guess.” His eyes grew wide, flashing wickedly in the fluorescent light. 

“So, what’s your favorite way to die?”

Whumpee tried to fight the shiver that wracked his spine.

“Curled up in my bed at 95.”

“Funny.” Whumper remarked dryly. 

Whumpee was painfully aware that the deadline was only three days away. He knew his family could never afford the ransom, even if they sold everything they owned. 

There was no world in which Whumpee lived past the week.

“I just… I was wondering what happens when...”

“Time’s up?”

The gaunt man nodded.

“Ain’t long now,” the killer shifted his weight to stand. “You’ll see for yourself.”

“Wait!” Whumpee shot out his arm, impulsively clutching the bottom of Whumper’s elbow. “Don’t go.”

Whumper turned back to his captive, crumpled on the floor. It was late and he was exhausted from the day, but he couldn’t resist the desperation in Whumpee’s pleading eyes.

“Just tell me what’s gonna happen.” Whumpee begged. “I need to know.”

"It doesn't matter" Whumper dismissed.

"Come on." Whumpee wasn't budging an inch. "You're right, it doesn't matter. So tell me."

“All you need to know is this: when the ransom is up, you're mine, and I can do whatever I like to you.”

Whumper gently traced the curve of Whumpee’s bottom lip with his thumb.

“Maybe you’ll like some of it too.”

“I don’t think so.” He responded blankly.

“Mmm.” Whumper retracted his hand from the man’s face. “Good thing you won’t have any choice in the matter.”

Powerless to fight the deluge of tears leaking from his exhausted eyes, an aching sadness took hold of Whumpee. Tears rolled over his cheeks, but he didn’t sob. He was beyond hollow at this point, completely numb.

A piece of his heart broke for his former self when Whumpee had the cold realization that he would probably never see the sky again. He cursed his weakness, his inability to defend himself. His entire life he had been too shy, too soft. What a waste he'd been.

In a tone barely above a whisper, Whumpee pitifully murmured: “I don’t wanna die.”

Whumper scooped up the trembling man from the floor, his strong arms wrapping around Whumpee in a confusing display of dominance and affection.

It was a feigned act of compassion, but the warmth of human contact felt good anyways. This time, Whumpee allowed the touch to comfort him.

Whumper offered no reassurances to the shell of a man quaking in his arms, he didn’t say it’s okay I would never hurt you, you’re my favorite—he didn’t say it because it wasn’t true. He wasn’t holding Whumpee tightly in his arms to comfort him. He held him close to feel Whumpee shake with fear.

Three days left. Only seventy-two hours.

“I like you, but the same rules apply to you as everyone else here.”

Whumpee pulled out of the hug, shuffling backwards.

“You said I was your favorite.” He wiped his leaking face with the back of his hand, sniffling. “Was that even true?”

“Yeah.” Whumper chuckled lightly. “You’re sweet.”

"Then why would you—" The tears surged again, cutting him off. "—how could you...?"

“I won’t touch your pretty face. Does that make you feel better?”

“I don’t know.” He snorted loudly to halt the mucus dripping from his nose. Whumpee struggled to maintain a façade of emotionlessness, but his body betrayed him at every turn. He took in a deep breath, exhaling slowly, centering his mind. 

“Just walk me through it. Just once. I need to know what happens.”

“Fine.”

Whumper crouched, locking his cold eyes with Whumpee's.

“It starts off the same for everyone. First I’m gonna have you go to the bathroom. If you’re good for me, maybe I’ll even let you use the one upstairs, the nice one. Sometimes people refuse to go and end up pissing on the exam table-- don’t do that. If you piss or anything when you’re strapped down, I’ll rub your fuckin’ face in it, so just go.”

“Okay.”

“Then you’ll strip down. Don’t put up a fight on that either. You won’t win.”

Whumpee nodded.

“I’ll take you to the room at the end of the hall. You know the one. Maybe I’ll have to tie you up, but if you’re a good boy that day I won’t need the ropes.”

An evil smile spread across Whumper's face. “The table is gonna feel cold on your skin. I'll have you lay back and once you lay down... Use your imagination. Anything could happen. I haven’t exactly planned it all out.”

“Yes you fucking have.” Whumpee bit back.

Whumper was taken aback. He was right of course, but he’d never heard the man swear before.

“Sure. I’ve thought about it.” Whumper chuckled. “I don’t think sharin’ every minute detail is gonna help.”

“Just tell me,” Whumpee urged. 

Whumper looked down and sighed, his impatience mounting.

“Are you going to fuck me?”

“Yes.” He answered truthfully. “Among other things.”

It felt like a train crashed into Whumpee’s gut. It was happening. It was really happening.

“Will it--will it hurt?”

“A little. But I’ll try to make you feel good.”

“No I mean. After.”

“Oh." He patted the man's shoulder. "Yeah. It’s gonna hurt, Whumpee.”

As much as he didn’t look forward to sacrificing his special, trembling boy to some faceless nobody on the dark web, the money was too good to pass up. The truth was, Whumpee was worth far more dead than alive. Even if his family had managed to pull together enough funds for the payout, it was miniscule compared to what his buyer was willing to pay for the video.

“That’s enough for now. It’s late.” The killer made his way to the exit, the heels of his boots clicking against the tiles.

“Am I allowed to make a final request?” Whumpee called to his captor's receding form.

"I don't do that," the man said coldly, glancing over his shoulder.

“Please. It’s not a lot.”

"What?" Whumper snapped, impatience evident in his tone.

“C-can I please write a letter to my friend?”

The killer rubbed his exhausted eyes, sighing as he eyed the reinforced steel door.

“Please.”

“Fine, Whumpee. Whatever. You can write to your friend. I’ll get you some paper. Write a fuckin’ novel for all I care.”

“Thank y--.” 

Whumper yanked the heavy door closed behind him, silencing Whumpee’s appreciation with a decisive shove, the thick thud echoing in the corridor. He had no intention of actually delivering Whumpee’s letter to anyone; but at that point he’d do anything to shut up Whumpee’s insistent questioning. 

Still, a flicker of curiosity burned within him as he wondered what Whumpee might write.

((sequel is in progress, here's more Whump))

[whumper-whimsy]

Back Home P4

A shorter part, but i need to post lmao

Captivity, beatings, conditioning, pet whump, domestic whump, noncon

Caretaker paced in their bedroom, fists clenched at their sides. Two days. Two fucking days.

Whumpee had been with Whumper for two days, not counting the night they were taken back. They were gone, and Caretaker had done jack shit to get them back.

They had to do something, and they needed to do it fast. God knows what Whumpee was already going through under that monster's care, and Caretaker was doing nothing.

But what could they do? Legally, Whumper owned Whumpee, and the contract between Caretaker and Whumper stated clearly that if Caretaker did not make their payments, Whumper could take them back.

Whumpee wasn't an animal— why couldn't the law see that? Caretaker had called the cops until their phone died, begging them for any shred of help— only to be told that Whumper was in the right. Whumper, the one who kidnapped their partner, who hurt them so terribly? Whumper was in the right?

Caretaker yelled and spun, driving his fist through the drywall. He pulled his hand back, panting, and stared at the crumbling wall. Whumpee would fret over it when they came back, they were sure.

♧♣︎♧♣︎♧♣︎♧♣︎♧

Whumpee sat obediently between Whumper's legs, letting themself be pet as Whumper spoke to someone else on the phone. It was nice, basking in the comforting warmth of the fireplace after their long, exhausting day. Whumper pet Whumpee absently, their fingers gently scratching at their scalp.

Whumpee closed their eyes, cheek pressed to their thigh. They could fall asleep like this, especially with the day they'd had.

Whumper was insistent on retraining Whumpee as fast as possible so they could get right into the 'fun part.' This meant two days in a row of re-learning everything. Whumpee's back stung with any movement, the result of a fairly harsh whipping. They did their best to stay still, content to drift off right there and then.

♧♣︎♧♣︎♧♣︎♧♣︎♧

Whumper smirked down at Whumpee, who'd passed out so peacefully on their lap. They tutted softly, letting out a little chuckle. Whumper resumed their conversation on the phone cheerfully, "Oh, the sweet thing fell asleep on me. Gods, I wish you could see Whumpee right about now."

Their colleague's smile carried in their voice as they spoke, "truly, you must bring them over some night! They sound absolutely darling."

Whumper smirked, looking down at their sleeping pet. "Perhaps I should. Maybe yours can leave an impression on them, lead by example. Mine was temporarily rehomed, and the stupid thing forgot nearly everything I taught it." Whumper rolled their eyes, scratching the back of the sleeping pet's neck. "Luckily, it seemed to click for them, for the most part. They're quite an eager thing once they get used to it."

Whumper's friend hummed and was quiet for a moment, then clicked their tongue. "Two days from now, I'm hosting a party. If Whumpee can behave and properly socialize, you can bring them. I'm inviting all my buddies! You have a plus-one, not including your pet. I'll send an invite your way, alright? And— oh, hey! Knock that off, you stupid— ugh, I gotta go. These things just cannot behave, can they? Talk to you another time!"

"See you," Whumper responded, hanging up. With a hum, he patted Whumpee's cheek. "Up, baby."

♧♣︎♧♣︎♧♣︎♧♣︎♧

"Up, baby."

Whumpee opened their eyes, shaking their head to wake themself. Whumper was off the phone and was staring at Whumpee with mischief in their eyes. Whumpee sat up, clearing their throat. "Sorry, sorry. I- I'm just tired, and—"

"Quiet. You know you're meant to sleep in your kennel."

"Yes, sir, I just—"

"Quiet."

Whumpee flinched, pullling away from Whumper and nodding. They watched as Whumper rose, grabbing their end of the leash and pulling Whumpee away from the cozy little nook.

The past few days had been weird. Whumper had eased up on Whumpee for the most part, as long as they behaved. They were still gropey and touchy, but now it came with words of praise instead of humiliation. Maybe it was because Whumpee was behaving.

Why was Whumpee behaving? They honestly couldn't find a simple answer to that. Maybe it was for rewards? Or to avoid punishment? Did Whumpee like the rewards? Well, they did, but should they?

What would Caretaker think?

That question rattled around Whumpee's head for a while as they headed for the bedroom.

Even if things were getting better, the worst part was still... well, this.

Whumpee was lifted into Whumper's bed and placed on their back. Whumper's hands ran up their stomach, their palms pressing down against Whumpee's warm skin. Whumper's voice was like a purr as they spoke. "There you go, just stay still for me."

Whumpee closed their eyes as that familiar sickness stirred in their gut. They tried to move away, shaking their head. "No, no, not now... please... Whumper, I'm so tired, just let me go to- mmph—" they were muffled by Whumper's hand.

"Hush, dear. Just sit back and— no, no, stop kicking. Come on, this is the easiest part... it feels good, doesn't it?"

Whumpee continued to protest behind Whumper's hand, thrashing and kicking their legs. Whumper got more frustrated, getting up on the bed to hold Whumpee's legs down. "Seriously, baby, it's not that hard. You've cum for me before, haven't you? You know how good it feels. If you could just–"

Whumpee clamped down on Whumper's hand, their teeth locking on to the flesh. Whumper roared in pain, swinging their dominant hand around to punch Whumpee in the face.

"You goddamned little— Christ, what's so hard for you to get?!" Whumper shouted, gripping Whumpee by the hair. "Everything else, you're obedient as a dog, but you can't take ONE single task properly?! It was easy! You just had to lay down and let me do what I needed to!" Whumper dragged Whumpee by the hair to the ground, dropping them. "Do I need to beat you harder? Can't you get it through your stupid little brain?!" Whumper shouted.

Whumpee cowered, tears running down their cheeks. They were struggling to speak through their sobs. "Im sorry, I—"

"Yeah? You sure are one sorry pet, you know that? No, I'm not letting you fucking babble your way out of this. You're gonna lay the fuck down, you're gonna shut the fuck up, and you're gonna take what you deserve. Exactly what you fucking deserve."

Whumpee hiccuped and cringed away, feeling heat press in on them as Whumper forced them back onto the cold floor.

Taglist:

@defire

[whump-since-2010]

Butterfly Whumpee - One for the Sea

-

Darkness. A formless void, the comfort of knowing here nothing hurt, an emotion the subconscious couldn’t quite place, drifting in nothing. In quiet. Here he would dream, and until the sun broke dawn, here he would stay. Unknown of his future, and too careless of his past. When Saltoris and Iscalus' blood ran clean. No wings, no collection, no blades, no teeth, no cane. 

Only Quiet.

Still,

Innocent,

Quiet.

“MAL! Mal! Mal! Mal!” The young noble startled awake to familiar hands.

“Awh… five more minutes Vylli? Is Mama even up yet?” He attemped to face his back to the other, but in retaliation, the older boy tore the covers from the bed.

“NO! And that’s what makes it GREAT Malean! It’s your tenth birthday, come onnnnn!!! Get uppppp, Grandmother wants you!” Vyllian darted over to the dresser and pulled off the neatly-folded clothes, hurling them at his little brother. 

Mal rubbed his eyes and slunk out of bed, shedding his nightshirt as he collected the clothes Vyllian had flung across his mattress. “Why?”

“Why? Mal! You’re ten!”

“Yeah?” He yawned, fumbling his small fingers over the clasps and hurrying to the mirror as his mother’s constant warnings about appearance and proper attire echoed in his mind. 

Vyllian frowned. 

Mal hesitated, the comb halfway through his frizzy waves, “Oohhhhh, Right!!”

He continued to comb his hair and then turned to his brother, brows pulled up in worry. “What’s the Ceremony like?”

“I thought it was fun! Mother says it’s special for each of us, and Grandmother wants you bright and early! You might get to go on your first ship with me after this!” The heir bounced on his toes excitedly, grinning as he thought about it. 

Mal whirled around, eyes sparkling as he hopped down from the stool he’d used to look in the mirror. “Really?!”

“Yeah!” Vyllian grabbed his little brother’s hand, tugging him down the hallway toward the dining hall. “Come on! You gotta meet her!”

“O-Okay!” Mal stammered, still feeling like a baby bird out of the nest for the first time as Vyllian pulled him into the dining hall where whom Mal assumed was Grandmother, sat, waiting patiently at the head of the table. 

Her eyes turned toward them as they entered, the corners of her thin lips twitching upward. “You're late, Vyllian.”

The heir dropped to one knee, leaving Mal just behind him, fidgeting with the stiff cuffs of his sleeves and still rubbing the last of the drowsiness away from his eyes. “Yes, Grandmother. Here he is.” Mal watched his brother with wide eyes, wondering why he would ever own up to a mistake. Mama always got angry when he did that. 

“Thank you for your honesty, Vyllian. You are dismissed, I wish to speak to your brother alone.”

Vyllian nodded solemnly, getting up and giving Mal a small encouraging nod as he ran off, closing the door behind him with a gentle click.

Grandmother shifted her gaze to him. “What is your name, child?”

The young boy tensed, looking at her shoes as he whispered, “Malean.”

“Your complete name.”

“Malean Xhyn Saltoris.”

“Well, Malean, I think it’s time you learned about the family business, you’re old enough now to start training for your future position. You understand that, yes?”

Mal nodded, digging his nails into the palms of his hands to keep himself from fidgeting any more, trembling at her flat voice and lack of expression. If she hit him would he be able to see it coming? Would he be able to see if he displeased her? “Yes, Grandmother.”

“Would you like breakfast?”

Mal opened his mouth to speak, but closed it. His family called it a ceremony. Was this a test to see if he upheld some sort of sacred code or law? He pursed his lips, considering for a long moment. “Yes please.”

A warm grin spread across Grandmother’s face and she offered him a hand. “Come to the kitchen, little one. I had them prepare something special for you. Vyllian told me you liked vanilla and cherries, is that correct?”

“Yes ma’am.”

Grandmother examined Mal carefully as he followed her at a slow pace, attempting to puzzle out why she’d need to know his favorite flavors. She lead him into the back of the kitchen, where she knelt for a second, examining his small face and clearing a stray lock of fox-bronze hair from his eyes. “Wait here just one second. Can you do that for me?”

Mal nodded slowly and folded his fingers behind his back. “Yes Ma’am.”

“Good, thank you, Malean.” She stood and went to speak with one of the chefs as Mal resisted the urge to bounce on his toes or call out to her. His mother had warned him to speak only in yes and no unless asked otherwise. Afterall, nobody wanted to hear a child speak in a noble house, he didn’t yet know how to compose himself in proper conversation.

After a few minutes, Grandmother returned with a silver tray in her hands. “Follow me to the Sitting room, little one.”

Mal nodded and followed her, having to half-jog to keep up with her swift pace. As he entered, she gestured for him to take a seat in one of the chairs next to her, setting down the tray in front of him, letting him see the small prepared plate, “I asked them to make a small cherry cake and a drink for you.” He froze, eyes wide and confused as he glanced from her to the tray. She raised a knowing eyebrow, “Happy birthday.”

“Is… is this really for me?”

“Of course it is, who else?”

“...Thank you.”

“You’re very welcome. Now do you mind if I speak while you eat?”

“N-no! Of course not, ma’am.”

She gave him a little half smile as she stood, crossing the room in a few long strides to the portraits beside the book case. “First of all, enough of this ‘ma’am’ business, we are family, there is no need. And don’t be sorry, I know your mother likely taught you, didn’t she?”

Mal hesitated, awkwardly clutching the fork as he met her eyes. “Yes.”

“I thought so. Your brother was much the same when I met him for the first time. You do not have to speak as long as you can answer without words.” She eyed the tray to accentuate her point as the young boy took a small bite. “Do you know our family legacy?”

Mal nodded, pointing toward the large ornate paintings of ships decorated in wood, stone, and complicated bronze metalwork along the hull and sails. 

“Yes, Ships. Very good. You were born for the waters, Malean. You’re a Saltoris, and a Saltoris is a ship captain. We have salt in our bones and tides in our eyes. You came from the stars, and when you are old enough to walk the waves you will know your way through them like the back of your hand. You will know the currents and the journeys of the fish. The moon and the stars that speak to you when you sleep. The bed of the sun and the ladder it climbs back to the heavens, the clouds and the waves, the fathoms and the skies. You will learn the ocean breeze on your face and a wheel at your hands. One day, you will captain your own ship. Does that sound fun?”

Mal stared up at her, eyes sparkling as he set down the fork. “Yes! Vyllian’s told me all about the sea! He says the sunset is even more beautiful when it’s all around you, the colors below you, the mist in the mornings and the golden hour when the world looks like honey? It sounds wonderful.”

“Have you ever been on a ship before?”

“Only once. Papa took Vylli and I on a trip down the harbors when��� when he got sick. The ocean was a comfort then I remember.” 

“Good. Now, let’s see what all you know and who you are, and the Ceremony will Conclude. Where will you be on the ship as a Captain?”

“The Prow of the ship at the helm.”

“Good. To Control the sails, where’s the best place to be, and how would you do it?”

“Beside the main, however close you can find to the Halyard. Keep eyes on the rigging and call crewmen to help.”

“What about the underside of the ship? What is it called, and what should you do if there’s trouble above deck?”

“The underside is the Hull and the very bottom the Keel. Inside is the Hold, the storage and where the men sleep. It depends on the trouble. If there’s a storm we’re going to need all hands on deck and the sails and oars to keep the boat steady. If it’s more of a Pirate-trouble we’d need weapons and likely hiding below deck for defense and surprise. The more they underestimate us, the better.”

“You said we needed all hands on deck in a storm? Well what would we do with those hands? What about when we face Doldrums?”

Mal hesitated, face flushing as he came up with nothing. “I… I don’t know.”

“That’s alright you are still young after all. Very good, it seems your father and brother have taught you well, Malean.”

Mal smiled, sitting straighter as his Grandmother took the seat across from him. “Now, these questions have no right or wrong answer. Tell me, what would you do? One of your crewmembers falls overboard. If you leave him, he dies. But if you save him, you may put your whole crew, mission, and family at risk. You yourself may die.”

“Try to find a safe way to reach him. Exhaust almost every option. If there is none, only then should we leave him.”

“One of your crew cannot do his job for the moment but it is needed for the journey to progress.”

“I’ll do it. Tell him to rest and get back into top condition.”

“There is a stowaway. Homeless. Cold. Dying. They’ve been stealing your resources. They beg for a job.”

Mal hesitated, considering this one for a moment, “Give them what they want and then send them away at the next harbor. Resources are hard to come by”

“Lastly, Your main mast has fallen, what will you do about it?”

“Row for the nearest shore and try to get it replaced, or maybe even buy a new ship.”

“Interesting. Now, Malean, Tell me why you chose these things?”

“They’re the right thing to do. I don’t want suffering or death on my hands. I’ll do what I think is right.”

His Grandmother smiled, laying her hand on his. “Then know this, Malean. You are an Empath. You care for others and follow whatever path you’ve set your heart on. But be warned. This path is sometimes a Selfish one. For if you follow it to the letter, you may forgo the lives of the many for the needs of the few. You can’t always follow your own head, that leads to selfishness. Be selfless. Listen to others, choose them before yourself. And pay attention to the world around you. Only when you’re ready to sacrifice for those you love, will you truly understand what love is. You’re destined for great things, Malean Saltoris. Set your eyes on them, and don’t give in.”

-♢-

Caretaker huffed as he pondered over the memory, bringing up his Grandmother’s old words. “You’re destined for greatness, Malean Saltoris.” Yes. Greatness. What greatness this was. Lucky to make it beyond thirty, hardly able to limp, living in a gutter doing errand runs for a woman who took advantage of him. Only alive because he’d hidden beneath the corpse of the very woman who’d told him of his supposed future prowess. 

Greatness indeed. A lame sewer rat with nowhere left to hide. His thoughts murmured. Mal scowled, watching the sails of the ships in the harbor rippling in the swirling sea wind, the very same wind that smelled of salt and fish, alongside a few spices from the market below. Not the most welcome scent, but a familiar one. Those same ships. It had been his heritage to captain one. Now he’d be lucky to even hitch a ride without being shot. 

The name Saltoris was long since dirt under the feet of the city people. And now Aeva had found him. He had eight years left as a high estimate. But as he watched the sails and listened to the birds and the shouting from the docking ships, a grim determination set in him. If Aeva was going to kill him early, he was going to make it hell.  After all, why not use what little he’d hidden from Keeper? Why not sail at least once before he was done? Why not steal his old enemy’s most prized possession? He was a dead man standing, Why not have a little fun before he went out?

If you liked it, I really love comments <3

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Taglist: @sunflowerrosy @toyybox @countryhumans-whump @gekowo

[all-the-gory-details]

(for the requests:) Whumpee getting shot and caretaker having to choose between them and the mission!

TW: Guns, gunshot wound, minor character death, injury, left behind

Caretaker was rounding the corner when the shot rang out behind them: loud, sharp, and far too close for comfort.

They spun just in time to see Whumpee fall to a knee, clutching their side, gun laying on the floor where they dropped it.

Instinct took over, and they fired three shots into the threat at the end of the hall, effectively neutralizing the danger.

But the damage was already done.

Whumpee groaned, and Caretaker ran, dropping to the floor beside them in an instant. "Where-"

"Left abdomen," Whumpee said through gritted teeth. "H-hurts."

"I know." Gently, they pulled Whumpee's hand away to take a closer look at the wound.

It always surprised them, the damage a bullet could do. So small, yet so, so dangerous. They spotted both an entrance and an exit wound, so the bullet wouldn't have to be taken out.

But the blood...

Whumpee needed medical attention. Now.

"Lets get you up," Caretaker said, a hint of panic in their voice. They grabbed Whumpee's forearms and started to support them up.

But they hesitated, looking quickly from Caretaker to the compound still stretching ahead of them. "Caretaker, we need to finish the job-"

"I know-"

"And I can't keep going like this, not without slowing you down-"

"I know-"

"So you gotta leave me behind."

Caretaker froze, swallowing down their panic at the phrase. "I can't. I won't-"

"Then what? We abandon our mission? A lot of people could get hurt, Caretaker. We need to finish this."

They winced, looking once more back and forth, checking for danger. "Y-you're hurt. you need a doctor-"

"And you need to leave me here and finish the job. We can go after."

They shake their head, "no way-"

"Go! I'll wait here." Shakily, they started to half-crawl, half-scoot their way over to a wall, sitting with their back to it. They grabbed their gun in one hand and pressed the other to their side, staunching the blood.

Caretaker hated this. They hated themself, for letting Whumpee get hurt.

And they hated themself for what they were about to do.

"I-I'll be quick," they said weakly, edging towards the hall leading deeper into the building.

"And I'll be fine." Whumpee smiled.

They both knew they were lying.

[w4nd3r3r123456]

Changes (2)

Thank you @cepheusgalaxy for answer my question!😅🥰

Note: based on the first part of this story, I'm now changing the characters names, so

"Whumper" = Caretaker (even tho they will have some very Whumper like moments in pt.2)

Whumpee = Whumpee

Whumper 2 = Whumper

____________

Caretaker continued to stroke Whumpee's hair after setting them down on the bed, their face still wet from their tears. Caretaker's hands drifted to Whumpee's face, their thumbs gently wiping them away as Whumpee continued to drift into an exhausted sleep. He got up silently, putting extra caution into each movement as to not wake Whumpee as he left the house.

____________

Caretaker sat relaxed on Whumper's couch, his head layed back, staring aimlessly at the star speckled sky through the glass windowed ceiling, his arms spread out across the cushions as he crossed his legs, one over the other. He lazily traced patterns across the room as he waited for his dear friend to arrive. Caretaker continued to wait for a while longer before the lights switched on to reveal Whumper, standing at the doorway, gun in hand, " Jeez Caretaker, you really gotta let me know when you're coming before hand" he sighed out as he lowered the gun onto a nearby shelf and approached Caretaker. "Does the Reaper knock before taking your life?" He responded, his eyes following the gun as a sickly sweet smile plastered his face. Whumper rolled his eyes and scoffed while motioning for Caretaker to follow him to the kitchen. Of course, he obliged, his smile shifting to a manic grin as Whumper turned away. Whumper proceeded to lay his coat on a chair as he opened his Wine cabinet. "So, you going out of town again? Need someone to babysit?" he questioned as Caretaker took a seat at the table. "What, I can't come for a simple visit for the purpose of simply missing you?" Caretaker raised a brow as Whumper brought over two cups and a bottle before taking his own seat across from him. "Tch, miss my ass loser. What'd you need from me?" he inquired again as he raised his cup to his lips, the red liquid sloshing around before reaching his lips and staining them a crimson red. Caretaker let out a sigh as he got up, stretching as he reached out to grip the wine bottle Infront of them both. "huh, Cabernet Sauvignon, haven't had that in a while, bit cheap for your taste, no?" Whumper shrugged, about to respond before an ear splitting shatter echoed through the house, the red liquid mixing with his blood as is splattered across the kitchen and poured down in rivers from his head. Whumper froze, his hands darting up to his head as he shot up, tripping over himself as he cursed Caretaker "w-what the hell?! The Fvck are you on you crazy bastard?!" Caretaker chuckled as he watched Whumper stumble from one wall to another, his crippling form trying to leave the kitchen, probably to retrieve his gun. Caretaker took his time, still gripping the top of the now shattered bottle, dragging the jagged edges across the specked marble countertops before stopping right before Whumpers head, lowering his own head to whisper into Whumpers ear "you won't be doing anymore 'babysitting', not after this." He pulled his arm back as Whumper continued to struggle away, slipping constantly as he struggled through the pool of blood under him, the next second he was on the ground, Caretaker over him twisting the broken bottle into his abdomen as he shrieked under him. "what ever did Whumpee do to you, I wonder." He grinned as he pulled the bottle out and threw it to the side, disregarding it as Whumper whimpered and struggled under him. "t-that pathetic b*tch t-told you, I s-swear i-i'll kill y-you both." He threatened, his hair sticking to the sweat and blood on his face as Caretaker chuckled over him "oh ho ho, i'm truly terrified, how will I ever get away from you?" He mocked as he lifted himself off of Whumper. "now then, what DID you do to my Whumpee, hmm? Was it perhaps this?" He took a step back from Whumper before landing a kick at his gut. Whumper groaned as he coughed up blood, his eyelids slowly drooping as caretaker continued to beat him senseless.

____________

Caretaker had finished cleaning up the mess Whumper had made before conveniently dying. He sighed as he made his way around the house, changing into a fresh pair of Whumpers clothes before pocketing loose cash and swiping away anything he thought Whumpee would like, his grin never faltering for even a moment as he drove home.

__________

He entered the house with the same caution which he employed when leaving it, making his way to Whumpee's room as he gently lay out one of his gifts on the nightstand next to them, knowing full well Whumpee wouldn't like the idea of Caretaker pitying them enough to spend hundreds on them in a single night. He set down the gold chained necklace, its diamond charm clanking lightly against the birch wood nightstand. Caretaker knelt down beside Whumpee's bedside, his one hand gently cupping their face as he used the other to continue stroking their hair, as though he never left.