#protective whumper

[jordanstrophe]

Caretaker's a hired kidnapper for whumper.

Caretaker has no idea what happens to whumpee after they turn them in. Sometimes they wonder if it's unspeakable; but this is caretaker's job and whumper pays well.

They have nothing personal against whumpee. They try to make the transportation go smoothly with as little damage as possible.

"Watch the trunk door, dear. I don't want to hit your head."

"Do you want music? It's going to be a long ride..."

"I'm not going to hurt you. Stop shouting, now."

"Rope's too tight? Sorry, let me fix that. Hands up, please."

"Stop trying to hurt me or I might hurt you. I don't want to, but I will."

"It's cold, here's a blanket. No, don't throw it at me- Put that rock down, I'm just trying to give you a blanket-"

[montammil]

Just a little hurt/comfort writing with Lawrence and Marshall. This is a pretty old WIP that I just did some editing on haha

CW: Stockholm syndrome, parental abuse, parental whumper, carewhumper, infantilization, platonic cuddling/pet names, non-sexual nudity, accidental bedwetting, victim blaming

...

In the past few nights, Marshall had been getting nightmares. They typically weren't that bad, since he hid them pretty well from Lawrence, but they were still very vivid in his memory, and he hated them. Sometimes they were related to Lawrence subjecting him to torture, and other times they had nothing to do with Lawrence at all. However, none of them were as terrifying as this one.

"I'm back!" Marshall sobbed, running to hug his parents. His real parents.

Instead of acting with happiness as he expected, his mother pushed him away. "Do you really think we'd want you to leech off of us again? We kicked you out, did you think we'd change our minds because you got yourself kidnapped?"

Scoffing, his father added, "I don't think he even got kidnapped. From the sounds of it, you wanted it. Isn't that right? You wanted someone to coddle you because you refuse to grow up?"

Marshall rapidly shook his head, but he didn't get much of a chance to say anything before he continued.

"It's disgusting how you think we'd want you back. From the sounds of it, you love him more than you love us."

Marshall's mouth hung agape for a moment. "That's not true! You know that's not true!"

"It is," his mother hissed. "Get out before we call the cops."

Next thing Marshall knew, he ran out of his parents' house, slamming the door behind him and running down the street. He eventually stopped to catch his breath, and noticed Lawrence sadly watching him, arms wide open for a hug.

Without thinking twice, Marshall ran into his arms, crying heavily. Lawrence didn't hesitate to wrap his arms around Marshall.

"I told you this would happen," Lawrence chided gently. "Everyone hates you but me, Marshie. Everything I do for you is out of love. Come on." He dragged him away. "When we get home, I think you need a time-out in the basement."

With that, Marshall jolted awake.

He frantically looked around his room in search of any evidence Lawrence was there, but he was nowhere to be seen. Sighing in relief, he wiped away his tears and took a few deep breaths to calm himself. Just when he felt himself beginning to breathe slowly again, he felt the bed was wet. Marshall blinked away tears and threw the blanket off.

Sure enough, he had wet the bed. Marshall began hyperventilating again, trying desperately to remain quiet. What if Lawrence got angry? Realistically, he knew that wouldn't be the case, but it was always in the back of his mind.

Once he could finally calm himself, he carefully crept out of his room. Lawrence must've been asleep, because he didn't see or hear anyone else. After a few seconds of debating, he went to the bathroom and cleaned up, changing into a new pair of pajamas with shaking hands. When he checked the clock, he saw it was 2 AM. Hopefully Lawrence wouldn't hear him...

Marshall tiptoed out of the bathroom and carefully peeled the sheets off of his mattress, balling them up.

He felt so disgusting. His face burned with shame as he carried the dirty sheets and blanket to the laundry room, occasionally looking behind his shoulder just to make sure Lawrence wasn't lurking.

The washing machine made a lot of noise. It seemed deafening in the silence of the night. There was no way Lawrence wouldn't notice it.

Tears ran down Marshall's cheek at the thought of the inevitable punishment. Maybe he'd be left in the basement for two weeks instead of one. That happened last month; Marshall cried for hours until Lawrence let him out early.

"What are you doing up?"

Marshall yelped, whipping around. Lawrence's tone sounded accusatory, and so did his expression until he saw Marshall's tear-streaked cheeks in the dim light.

He didn't get a chance to ask what was wrong, Marshall was already crumpling to the floor and muttering incoherent apologies.

"No, hey," Lawrence hushed, rushing over to cradle him in his arms. "Don't cry. What's wrong?" Marshall opened his mouth to speak, but all that came out were blubbers. "Baby, why're you so sad? Please talk to me, I wanna help." He ran his fingers through Marshall's hair, which didn't seem to soothe him, judging by how loudly he wailed. "Shh..."

It took Marshall several minutes of heavy crying before he calmed down enough to actually speak. He looked up at Lawrence with those beautiful puppy-dog eyes. "I—I had an accident," he whimpered. It was too embarrassing to say he wet the bed.

Lawrence frowned sympathetically. "Oh, Marshie. Why didn't you wake me?" Marshall stayed silent, wiping away the remaining tears. "Did you think I'd be mad?"

Marshall shrugged. In hindsight, it did seem pretty stupid to worry about being judged about this from the man who was treating him like a toddler.

"I'm not mad. You know that, right? You know that nothing you do could make me love you less." He coaxed Marshall to look back up at him. "I love you so, so much. Nothing will ever change that." He brushed away some strands of hair from his forehead and gave him a kiss there. "Let's go get you a bath. Have you taken one yet?"

"No... I freaked out so I just changed my pajamas and put everything wet in the washing machine..." Marshall stared at the ground in embarrassment. "I'm sorry."

Lawrence shook his head and held him closer. "No need to apologize, buddy. You know you can always tell me things like that." Marshall didn't respond to that. "Come on, I'll give you a bubble bath!"

It was sweet he was trying to cheer him up. Marshall attempted a weak smile in return and followed him upstairs.

Once Lawrence prepared him a bath, it smelled like honey and lavender, two of his favorite scents. Marshall eagerly got in, and relaxing became ten times easier just like that. He sunk in the bathtub so it engulfed up to the base of his neck.

"Is it okay if I go check on your sheets? Just wanna make sure you did it right," said Lawrence. "If not, then I can—"

"You can go. I won't drown myself," said Marshall half-jokingly. Lawrence looked slightly worried about that. "Go, I don't mind. You can leave the door open if it makes you feel better."

After hesitating for a few more moments, Lawrence nodded and went downstairs to the laundry room. Meanwhile, Marshall hummed quietly to himself to pass the time. The scent of his bubbles made him more relaxed, and it didn't take long for his eyelids to get heavy.

The only thing keeping him from falling back asleep in the tub was knowing he'd likely make Lawrence have a heart attack.

"Okay, Marshie, I'm back." Lawrence reentered the bathroom and took a seat beside him. "Feelin' any better?"

"A little, yeah." Marshall sank into the water a bit more, making a small wave splash out.

Lawrence smiled lovingly. "Good. And the sheets should be done drying before the morning. Until then, I can make us a cool fort in the living room, or you can sleep in my room tonight? What do you think?"

Marshall thought about it for a moment. "Your bed's huge. I'll take that for tonight."

"That works for me! But first, we gotta wash your hair." Marshall pouted. "Don't pull that face with me, mister."

In all truth, Marshall didn't really care that much. He let Lawrence wash his hair and dry him off with a towel.

After drying his hair, he dressed him back in his fresh pair of pajamas and lead him to the bedroom, where he had already set up a makeshift nest of pillows and blankets on the left side of the bed. Marshall almost cried again. Lawrence was the only person who paid attention to little things like how Marshall preferred tons of pillows.

Lawrence tucked him in. "Comfy?"

Marshall nodded. A light smile formed on his face, which turned into a frown once he noticed Lawrence leaving. "Where are you going?" He realized too late how pathetic he sounded.

For a moment, he saw surprise flash across Lawrence's features. "You want me to stay?"

The brunet wasn't used to Lawrence giving him a choice in things like this. Normally, he'd demand it. Marshall hesitated and averted eye contact.

"Only if you want to... it just feels weird sleeping in here without you." He had only slept in Lawrence's room a few times before, and it was when he was usually injured or sick.

"Aw, Marshie... of course I want to be with you!" Lawrence kicked off his slippers and climbed into his side of the bed, turning off the lamp as he did so. "C'mere. I love cuddling with you." Marshall found himself listening, against his better judgment. He buried his face in Lawrence's broad chest, feeling the strong arms wrap around his back. "Still comfy?"

Marshall exhaled through his nose. "Yeah. I'm sorry for waking you."

"Stop apologizing, bud. I want you to rely on me. I'm your dad." He felt a kiss pressed onto his head.

His dad. Marshall thought back to his dream. It was definitely an exaggeration, but the emotions were real. His parents couldn't even compare to how Lawrence treated him.

He hated comparing them, but it was hard not to think of it, especially now that his parents were fresh in his mind from that nightmare.

He broke down in tears again, despite his attempts to hold them back. It felt like a dam broke.

"Oh, honey." Lawrence held him even closer. "Hey, don't cry, kiddo. Are you thinking about something? Can you talk to me?" Marshall shook his head, hoping that Lawrence would just drop it. "Can you look at me? Look at Dad." It was easier to ignore the shame in the dark. Marshall tilted his head up and saw Lawrence's azure blue eyes. "There we go. There's my boy." Lawrence kissed his forehead. "If something is bothering you, especially to this degree, I want to know."

Marshall sniffled, and for a couple of minutes, neither of them said anything. Lawrence rubbed soothing circles on Marshall's back, and Marshall hid his face in Lawrence's shoulder, trying to forget the pain.

"You'll get mad."

"Try me," Lawrence challenged.

Marshall swallowed his pride, closed his eyes, and exhaled. "I was dreaming of my parents." Lawrence's hand paused. "My biological parents," he corrected, in hopes of not making him angry. "I was returning to them... and they didn't want me. And then you were there and I ran to you, and you hugged me. You took me home. But for some reason it really shook me up. Apparently enough for me to... yeah."

He felt Lawrence sigh. He wondered if he made him angry.

"Marshall..." Lawrence was so soft with him. Gentle. It made his skin crawl. "I think sometimes dreams mean something. And I think you know, deep down inside, that if you were to return to them, that's exactly what would happen."

He hated the thought of that. That he would go back to his parents, and they wouldn't want him. Yet he believed Lawrence.

"I know you love them. And I know you miss them. And it's normal to want to see them again. But if you return to them, they'll throw you away just like they did when they kicked you out." His tone was cold, harsh, but he held Marshall with so much affection it didn't feel right. "And I'm sorry about that. It's so awful that they don't want you."

Marshall never heard Lawrence become sympathetic, but a part of him knew why. Lawrence knew damn well that he was finally starting to make sense to him. He felt Lawrence squeeze him tighter, as if he'd float away if he wasn't grounded.

"But you have me." His voice was firm. Marshall didn't dare speak. "And I love you so, so much. More than they ever will."

These emotions were overwhelming. Marshall didn't know what to do, so he settled for staying clung onto Lawrence like a koala.

Lawrence rested his chin atop Marshall's head. "It's gonna be okay, kiddo. Just fall asleep, and we'll talk in the morning, if you still want to."

Marshall could only nod.

[cepheusgalaxy]

Y'all im really here for all the Protective Caretaker Squad but i really wanted to see some protective whumpers

Whumper who doesn't think that what they do is wrong or hurtful at all and when someone else tries to hurt Whumlee they are baffled. Infuriated

Owner Whumper who doesn't allow anyone to as much as look at Whumpee the wrong way and will threaten anyone who does

Whumpers who threatens people and stay true to their threats

Reluctant Whumper who already hates when it's their fault Whumpee gets hurt, and when it's someone else they simply won't allow it.

Carewhumpers.

Powerful Whumper who has a feeling of ownership towards Whumpee, and nobody damages their property

Whumper who only hurts their Guard Dog Whumpee for training or sometimes a punishment and when someone else hurts them? Even if it's in a mission or something? They give Whumpee permission to destroy them.

[whumpkinpie]

Whumper tilted Whumpees chin up to get a better look at their face only to find the evidence of the fight.

Whumper delicately thumbs away the streak of blood by Whumpees mouth, saying nothing as they examine it, and after a brief pause, Whumpees heart skipped a nervous beat as Whumper looks them dead in the eyes.

Their voice is quiet and tense, their anger barely restrained.

"Who... Who the hell did this to you?"

[rosieposey-torturedpoet]

Okay, so this is really random: but I see a lot of like 'inexperienced' Whumpees who are the weakest/youngest out of the group

But like what if the youngest is the one everyone fears, I mean they're in the group for a reason

Picture this very specific scenario: The team is captured by Whumper and they are all taken to the same room, chained up to keep them from running or trying anything: and here comes Whumpee (a teenager that's like half the size of everyone in the room) with these insanely complicated locks, maybe they're wearing a straight jacket, with multiple guards while the rest of the team got one or two

Because if you think about it, younger people would have to work harder to prove their strength and 'worth' to the team. There has to be a reason for them to stay on the team

However my personal favorite of this trope is that the youngest is just so unpredictable; not only are they talented/wise beyond their years but you truly never know what they'll do next with all the talent they harbor

Maybe Whumper hates them because at least he can fall into this rythme with the rest of the team and learn their habits: but he physically can't do that for youngest because there is no routine or habit to fall back onto

Maybe they mastered a rare magic form at a young age, or were trained as a soldier

Then think of the CARETAKING OPPROTUNITIES?? A parental Caretaker that shows Whumpee what it's like to be a kid, who worry about they're little reckless living death wish 24/7, and give them a mom/dad that they deserve

I just love young, anti-hero, vigilante Whumpees who have seen so much and learned so many things at such a young age, to the point where they are constantly on the verge of villain because of their genuine desensitization to it all

Which causes everyone to be at least a little afraid of youngest, in some sense of the word

[hurtmyfavsthanks]

Dude I see so much of average drugged whumpee just being spacey and out of it, but I raise you, a drugged whumpee that’s happy. A whumpee dosed with a euphoria drug that has them wonderfully higher than a kite, laughing, looking at streaming shimmering hallucinations around them, blissfully relaxed and unaware that whumper is behind it

bonus points if whumper flees from wherever they’ve been hiding, leaving a happily drugged whumpee behind as a “present” for caretaker

(content warning: nudity, the vague references to non-con touching)

YES. YES. YES.

I ADORE happy little drugged out whumpees! And Caretaker finding them like that? Especially when it’s such a far cry from whumpee’s typical personality? I could explode.

It’s all about the dichotomy between their behavior and their situation. Anything would be more fitting. Helpless terror as they shiver in the corner, hiding from horrors only they can see. Numb listlessness because their body is overburdened by exhaustion. Those all make sense, they fit.

But joy? Near manic euphoria, a smile stretching across their pale and dirty face? They’re not screaming or crying, but laughing, a drunken giggle that bounces against cold walls.

I think there’s an extra layer of helplessness there that is absolutely amazing. They’ve been stripped of their freedom, their dignity, and even their ability to properly respond to their situation. They’re not even given the right to anger or sadness. They’re trapped in an unthinking joy, and they can’t even begin to understand why it’s a bad thing.

And left as a prize? Absolutely. I love the idea of Caretaker finding them like that, at their most vulnerable. Presented like a trophy. Wrapped in thin silk and rope too weak to bind them under normal conditions, bruises peppering otherwise bare skin.

It’s humiliating, it’s painful, but Whumpee has no awareness of that. They simply feel good, relaxed and peaceful in a way they haven’t been for months. They’re barely aware of the exposed state they’re in, too out of it to even feel shame. They can’t remember the mocking words Whumper spoke as they pushed the needle into Whumpee’s skin, can’t remember the sicking mix of fury and terror they felt in those first few minutes, laying there with nothing to do but wait for the drug to kick in. All that’s left in their head is pink, sparkling joy.

Finally, Caretaker arrives. Whumpee doesn’t register the look of horror on Caretaker’s face. They barely respond as they’re searched for injuries, barely respond to Caretaker’s presence at all. When they do respond, it’s with slow, slurred speech, the words incoherent and muddled with uncontrollable laughter.

It sends a chill up Caretaker’s spine. It’s a state they’d neve expect to find Whumpee in, a state Whumpee would never allow themselves to be found in. It's frightening, seeing Whumpee act so unlike themselves.

Knowing that Whumper was around them in this state makes Caretaker sick. Knowing that Whumper had them at their most vulnerable, was free to mock them, touch them, do anything, and Caretaker wasn’t there to stop it, makes them feel sick.

It makes them sick to think this is all part of some game to Whumper. It makes them sick to think that they’re playing along, that saving Whumpee is somehow part of Whumper’s plan. But there’s nothing else Caretaker can do.

Caretaker removes their coat and drapes it over Whumpee’s body. Carefully, they pick Whumpee up, not trusting them to walk in their state. Whumpee’s body is warm despite being left on the cold floor, skin flush as the drug works through their system. Whumpee’s shivering, though they don’t seem to notice that either.

Whumpee presses themselves into Caretaker’s chest, humming contently. Caretaker holds them close with trembling fingers, and swears to never let them go again.

[a-class-attempter]

Caretaker circled Whumper, whom was tied to a chair, electrodes along their chest.

“Ple-” Whumper screamed, lighting surging through their body. When the shock ceased, they collapsed with a sob.

“What did I say about talking.” Caretaker growled. They grabbed Whumper by the jaw, forcing eye contact. “I wasn’t lying when I said I would die for Whumpee. And I wasn’t lying when I said I’d kill for them.” Caretaker squeezed Whumper’s jaw, their nails digging into their skin. “And you best believe I’d torture for them.”

[whumblr]

Find them!

Good whump words in all variants. So have some prompts you can hear :) from calm and collected to most desperate.

- Whumpee hiding in a darkened room. They hear the door open, hear multiple sets of footsteps enter, getting closer, walking past. Then a calm "Find them".

- Whumper bending over, picking up the remnants of cut rope. He straightens back up, looks around. A click of the tongue. This is an inconvenience.

- A blood trail leading to the woods (Whumper: calm, with a smile. Caretaker: a little less calm)

- The captives have escaped, but the building is sealed anyway.

- The (snow) storm is getting more extreme and Whumpee hasn’t come back yet. "We have to find them!"

- Whumper has been signalled nearby and Whumpee (oblivious) is out.

- Caretaker realising in the midst of chaos that Whumpee isn't among them anymore.

- Whumper who has just been shot (bonus if sniper) or punched to the ground screaming in rage, "Find them!"

- Caretaker crying, pleading with the rescue team.

- Whumper slamming the door to their office open. Surprise :) the precious thingamajig / important documents / hostages are missing.

- Whumper finding the cell empty. And the bigger badder Whumper is waiting for them.

[jordanstrophe]

A protective whumper who's afraid whumpees job is far too dangerous for them, so they do everything in their power to ruin whumpees career.

-And they have power to do it.

[bltzgore]

Currently fixating on caretaker who's not all human letting their voice drop as dark and monstrous as they can. They make unflinching eye contact with whumper, and with all the vitriol and burning rage in their body tell whumper, "Don't you fucking touch them."

It is not a warning, not even a command. It is a promise.

[whumpitisthen]

Whumpee gets the biggest, scariest, most menacing looking dog they can find after they get away. Whumper hurt them, Caretaker left them, no one would help. Dogs are loyal. Dogs are protectors. Dogs are man's best friend. Whumpee will not be unsafe, even if they are fated to remain all alone until the end of time. They will never be defenseless again.

[elisabethrosewrites]

"How much do you care for your Whumpee?" Whumper asked Caretaker in a nonchalant tone.

Caretaker glares viciously at him. "They don't mean anything to me." They tell the boldfaced lie with as much confidence as they can muster.

"Is that so?" Whumper asks, amused this time. "So if for example, I had Whumpee bound and gagged in the back of my car, that would mean nothing to you?"

"Nothing at all," Caretaker replies, the lie hurt but they had to protect Whumpee.

Whumper fixed Caretaker with a calculating stare. "Well then, I suppose I won't be needing them anymore." He lifted his phone to his ear. "Hear that Henchman? You can dispose of the brat now."

Ice rushed into Caretaker's lungs. All their bravado slipping away. "No!" They shouted.

"I thought they meant nothing to you?"

[justbreakonme]

The moment the whumpee watches the caretaker, the kindest, gentlest, most loving person they’ve ever meet, absolutely OBLITERATE the whumper is a trope I will never get over.

[ccieatchildren]

A Dance, Darling?

TW: Noncon Kissing, Implied Kidnapping, Almost Panic Attack, Intimate Whumper, Forced Relationship

Whumpee brought their fingers up to rest on the rubies encircling their neck. It was not as extravagant as they had expected from him, but it was still hefty enough to feel each individual jewel press into their flesh, a constant reminder on their skin.

Leaving the necklace alone, disturbed by what it represented, their eyes travelled up to their face in the mirror. Their makeup was all red. Lipstick, eyeliner, eyeshadow, each a dark shade that could only be accomplished by Whumper mixing some of their own blood into the cosmetics. They shuddered at the memory of the experience.

Whumpee groaned as he made another cut on their back, pressing the clear vial under the opening. The blood prickled their skin as it made its path down into the small jar.

Whumper brushed his lips against their neck, “we have to make sure you look your best.” He pressed on each side of the wound, drawing out more of the scarlet substance. The flow of red now rushed into the container. 

They sobbed, while Whumper watched in fascination.

Underneath the bandages, their spine pulsated at the memory, and they could feel the beginning barbs of phantom pain. Whumpee shook their head, freeing themself from the thought. 

Moving along, their gaze moved further up to their hair. Whumper had asked– told– them to put the small red jewel feathers he gave them in between the locks. In any other situation, Whumpee quite enjoyed the look of them in their hair, it was as if their hair was a flower sporting red leaves, but here, their image was immediately soured by who gave them to them.

They frowned. Another chain.

Their hands moved down to follow the curve of their dress. It was a deep crimson, matching their makeup and jewellery, and flowed down to their ankles. A hole was cut out at their chest, causing Whumpee to scrunch up their nose in distaste. It was shoulderless with a high slit on their right side, showing off their leg and the scars that adorned it. 

Whumpee hated it.

They were not very used to wearing dresses in the first place. They would thought it beautiful on someone else, but it felt foreign on their own skin. It complemented their figure too well, emphasizing their chest, hips, and waist in a way that made them feel like a piece of meat on display. The slit showed much more skin than they were comfortable with and Whumpee was paranoid that they would accidentally flash someone. They kept tugging the fabric down, but there was nothing more for it to do. Whumper’s intent with the dress was clear. Flaunt the prized lamb he bought in the auction. 

However, they would prefer the objectification over the reason he actually chose this dress for them. 

Easier access.

It made them nauseous. Their fingers itched to rip and tear the dress off themself. Strip themself of the shame and fear.

Whumpee slammed their hands onto the sink, pulling their attention away from their apprehension and resentment. In, out. In, out. In… Out… Drawing in each breath worked to ease their misgivings. A technique Whumpee relied heavily on throughout their time here. Inhaling fresh air, exhaling all theirworries. 

A few seconds and Whumpee was back to their original state. 

Not normal, not calm. But manageable. Never fully calm again.

Their eyes drooped down to the final piece tying their ensemble together, the gold band that encircled their left ring finger. Part of them enjoyed covering up the scar from his teeth, hiding how they were now permanently tied to him. The other part of them knew this was just a fancier shackle. A more obvious cuff for the public eye.

They fiddled with the ring, twisting it back and forth. Back and forth. Back and forth. God, they just wanted to throw it out the window and watch as it got lost to the city forever. 

They slowly pulled the bond up their finger, only thoughts of release and escape bouncing around their head.

“Do you like it?” 

Whumpee whipped their head around to see Whumper standing in the doorway. They shoved the ring back down.

He had pushed his hair back for once, the fluffy black locks smothered under a layer of gel. His suit was black, as was his tie, which were accompanied by a red vest and button up, matching their dress perfectly. He still wore the same three earrings, now pairing with their own red drops. Whumper had taken off his glasses, presumably switching them for contacts, emphasizing his dark lashes and ruby eyes.

He looked them up and down, unabashedly ogling, before finally settling on their face. “You look absolutely gorgeous, dear. Red looks nice on you.” 

“I prefer blue.”

Whumper’s lips twitched. “Are you ready? Best not to be late.” He swiftly turned around, ignoring the obvious last ditch attempt to rile him up, grabbing his keys and heading to the door. Whumpee trailed behind, already dreading the party.

————

The bright lights of the venue were the first thing to assault Whumpee’s eyes. They stepped out of the vehicle, admiring the show of excessive wealth, jumping at the slam behind them. Whumper tittered at their reaction; he had closed the car door behind them, chivalrous, as always.

Whumpee turned to glare at him, unamused. He initially looked surprised at their outward frustration toward him, before smiling once again.

Whumper offered them his elbow, red eyes boring into them, and Whumpee was quick to accept the proposal. “Off we go, my love.” Handing the keys off to the valet, he walked into the large building, practically dragging Whumpee with him.

It was an open ballroom, filled with people mingling, the low hum of talking almost overpowering the small orchestra playing music in the corner. It was decorated with an abundance of gold and white, adding to the affluent and lavish vibe. The middle of the room was open for couples who wanted to dance, the sides filled with tables holding various hors d'oeuvres and desserts. At the very end was a stage covered in balloons and banners, where the host would most likely give their toast.

Whumpee cringed at the overwhelming amount of people in the room. They had never been that much of a fan of parties, but now, their usual anxiety seemed to have increased tenfold. Their skin itched as if everyone was staring at them, checking them out, assessing their worth, finding their weaknesses. It reminded them of the tense stillness before a fight, not a party. The wounds across their back and stomach throbbed, their ever present pain intensifying, and making Whumpee even more self conscious. 

What if they could see them? What would they do then? Would they help them or find it amusing? What would Whumper do? 

This was too much. They couldn’t do this. Couldn’t pretend everything was fine. They needed to get out of here.

Panic crawled up their spine, and Whumpee slightly pulled away from Whumper, hoping to escape. But his grip was firm, and they were stuck pressed into him. Whumper’s body shook with light laughter at their alarm, peering down at them. Upon seeing their expression, however, he twitched.

Whumper pulled them even closer to him, “want to go back home, darling?” His eyes were softer than usual and his face contorted into a small frown, “do all the people frighten you?”

Whumpee nodded vigorously, pressing themself closer to him, trying to appeal to his affection for them.

Whumper placed his free hand on their cheek, and Whumpee nuzzled further into him. “Don’t worry, I’m here.” He seemed to think for a few seconds, watching them carefully, before his lips widened into a sharp smile. “As much as I would love to go back home with you,” he mockingly placed a hand over his chest, “and it truly does make me elated that you consider me your home now,” Whumpee flinched, recognizing their mistake, trying to draw back away from him, “but,” he wouldn’t let them go, “we prettied you for this. We can’t go before you meet everyone and indulge in the festivities. Can’t have it all go to waste, now can we?” He tutted at them.

Whumper continued to stare at them before they realized he wanted an answer. Whumpee slowly shook their head, accepting defeat, slumping down into themself.

Whumper patted their cheek before pulling back. “Kaip geras. Now let’s go, I already see someone I want to introduce you to.”

He pulled them along further into the room, and Whumpee took a deep breath, hoping, but failing, to prepare themself for the night to come.

————

The next hour or so was filled with Whumpee standing docilely next to Whumper, a smile plastered on their face while he spoke to everyone who came to greet him. 

It was the same thing over and over again. A name they wouldn’t remember, faces that blurred together, shallow compliments about their outfit, and, the worst of all, congratulations to the happy couple. 

Whumper keened at all the flattery, especially those of their dress and jewelry, making sure to pipe in that he was the one that purchased them for them, and, as they were expected to follow along, Whumpee thanked him for the “generous” gift from a loving fiancé. He always managed to squeeze in a kiss for the presents, tilting their head up and drawing Whumpee in whenever they expressed their gratitude. This only delighted the other guests, amused at the young couple’s public show of affection.

It was torture. 

Now Whumpee, thankfully, had finally gotten a small break from Whumper flaunting them off, standing on the sidelines and trying to drown their worries into a small flute of champagne. 

Never too far, Whumper was in the corner conversing with what they could only assume to be potential buyers, and, though he wasn’t facing them, Whumpee could still feel the ever present weight of his eyes watching them, making sure they didn’t run. As unnerving as it was, Whumpee preferred it over his stifling presence bearing down next to them. 

The hero scanned the room as their mind drifted. They could try to get help from the other people here, but Whumpee didn’t foresee much success through those routes. They recognized half the guests from files back in their old office, and those who weren’t publicly villains were most likely not much better either. 

However, even if they weren’t in the same circles as Whumper, what could Whumpee say that would convince them of their situation. Their last stunt as a hero left them humiliated and discredited; they looked crazy to the public eye. Someone who had lost their way and needed the guidance of some pristine charitable schmuck who graciously sacrificed themselves to help them. In the end, it would be their words against his, and no one would believe them. 

And on the small, small chance they did… Whumpee shivered at what Whumper would do to keep them with him, how he would take revenge for their defiance. They knew it wouldn’t just stop at them, and, as much as they despised it, the hero in them couldn’t let that happen.

As always, he had the upper hand. 

They were taken out of their musings by a gloved hand appearing in their line of sight, too deep in thought to notice Whumper had finished his conversation.

“Join me for a dance, mylimasis?” An award winning smile was plastered on his face, amusement obvious as he played the part of a perfect gentleman. Whumpee grimaced at the irony. 

Seeing no way out of it, Whumpee cautiously placed their hand in his, their trepidation bringing a small chuckle out of the man. Whumper gently brought them to the dance floor, joined by other couples who wished to sway with their partners. Whumpee brought their arms around his neck as he encircled their waist, skin crawling where he touched them. 

Whumper rocked them side to side at a slow pace, calming just by watching them. Whumpee scrutinized him, trying to understand his game; it wasn’t like him to do something so simple without an ulterior motive. 

His fingers started to tap along their waist, following the beat of the music in the background, while he continued to watch them. Whumpee stared back with the same intensity, struggling to smooth their face so they weren’t outright glaring at him. He seemed rather startled at their ‘sudden’ annoyance, eyes widening, before he sheepishly smiled at them. Their face must have slackened in confusion as he relaxed as well, returning to watching them. They continued like that, swaying in the crowd and looking at each other, for a small while. 

Finally, a blush spread across his cheeks, and Whumper quickly turned away. 

He’s like an embarrassed teen. 

They huffed slightly in disbelief, causing Whumper to turn back around at the sound. Realizing the awkwardness, he cleared his throat before asking. “Are you enjoying yourself so far?”

“Yes.”

He perked up. “Really?”

Whumpee sent him a dry look. Whumper visibly wilted and they scoffed, looking away. Seriously, again?

Letting their anger and frustration get the best of them wasn’t the smartest move, they knew that, but their proximity was putting Whumpee on edge, making them more irritable than usual. 

“You are going to have to get used to this,” Whumper said, breaking the silence. Whumpee turned back, shocked by his now blank face. “I’m tolerating your disrespect because we’re in public, and I recognize this is your first time being away from home in a long time. It makes you nervous, I understand that. But,” his fingers dug into their waist and Whumpee had to suppress a gasp, “when we’re officially wed, you’ll have to join me to these outings frequently as my wife.” He leaned down so their eyes were level, “I will not indulge this pitiful defiance of yours, then.” Whumper straightened back out, looking down at them, always able to make them feel small with just a glance. “So, I recommend you start familiarizing yourself with the appropriate behavior now.”

Fuck.

Whumpee gulped. They had screwed themself over.

Head bowed, Whumpee accepted defeat. It always ended like this, with Whumpee on their knees before Whumper, metaphorically or literally. They had no response other than to let themself be pulled every which way by Whumper.

Now pressed up against his chest, Whumper and Whumpee swayed as more and more partners made their way to the dance floor.

Leaning down once more, Whumper supplied their companion with more information. “Get ready, brangusis, it’s about to get fun.”

Noticing the crowd of couples, the small orchestra shifted into waltz, and everyone moved in sync. 

Whumper brought their clasped hands up and moved his other to their hip, brushing over an old wound. Whumpee harshly sucked in a breath before placing their hand on his shoulder. He commenced the dance, and Whumpee tried their best to keep up.

Step, slide, step, turn. 

Whumpee hyper focussed on their feet, trying to match his movements. They didn’t have much experience with ballroom dancing, having only taken a few classes as a joke with Bestie, and the one time Caretaker tried to teach them, though it hadn’t ended very well. Whumpee smiled at the memory: them and Caretaker a mess of limbs on the floor as Whumpee had slipped and doomed them both to a few more bruises across their body. They had been so out of breath from laughing when they couldn’t untangle themselves from each other. It had been a spur of the moment idea, some stupid thing meant to bring them closer together. It worked.

“Something funny?” 

Whumpee broke out of their reverie, not even realizing they had zoned out. Whumper’s mouth was a hard line, displeasure at not being the center of their attention apparent. 

It irked them how needy he always was. Kidnapping, experimenting, torturing, and assaulting them wasn’t enough?

They mumbled a quiet apology, peeking up at him through their lashes. It worked and Whumper eased with a blush. 

The musicians kept a steady adagio tempo, giving any more couples who wanted to join an extra moment. Whumpee slowly acclimated to the rhythm, matching Whumper’s moments not long after. 

“You were always a quick learner,” he laughed. Whumpee grimaced. 

As they danced, he squeezed and kneaded along their side, curious of their reactions. His fingers pressed into an old bruise and Whumpee staggered. He kept them balanced, yet began a game of finding where else he could push to get a pained response.

They tried to pull away from the pokes and prods, tottering with each failed attempt. They whined when he reached a fresh stitched gash. Whumpee could feel the meager string split under his pressure, spilling blood that wouldn’t be noticed under the crimson of their dress. 

Whumpee startled when their dance faltered for a moment, for once not because of them. They peered up at Whumper, surprised to find dilated eyes trained on their throat. 

“Don’t do that.” He ground out. 

Ah.

Whumpee was more than happy to obey. That train of thought would lead nowhere good for them. 

Screaming in pain would also most likely not bode well with the other guests. Whumpee sighed, nodding and gritting their teeth through his subtle exploration. Their head throbbed. 

The music picked up, pushing them to move even faster. Whumpee already felt dizzy from the quick paced movement, and Whumper’s tight hold over their still healing cuts was not helping. “Smile, love. People are watching.” He purred.

Heeding his warning, Whumpee stretched their mouth into some semblance of a smile, lips twitching from the strain, and kept dancing. Whumper relaxed his grip slightly, pleased with their obedience. 

Step, slide, step, turn.

Just as they were getting used to pushing the pain down to the rhythm, Whumper let go of their waist, spinning them. Whumpee stumbled, but he kept them moving, pulling them back in after they completed a turn. He seamlessly continued their dance, not giving Whumpee a break to get their bearings, delighting in their increasing disorientation. 

Step, slide, step, turn.

He continued to spin Whumpee every few steps, quietly laughing at their mounting nausea. However, each time their expression began to display their discomfort, Whumper would lean down to mutter a reminder of what would happen if they didn’t keep up the facade. His own twisted form of encouragement. 

“I don’t like to share, sweetheart. Those expressions are only for me.”

Step, slide, step, turn.

“Many guests are watching us love, don’t disappoint them with your sour countenance. I don’t want them gossiping about how I have an unruly wife.”

Step, slide, step, turn.

“You look marvellous when you spin. My pretty little thing. Keep going.”

Step, slide, step, turn.

“Your dress makes me want to add more red. How about the blood of everyone here, ęh? Do we want to see?”

Step, slide, step, turn.

“Don’t fall. I’ll get jealous. And we will have to fix that by adding bruises of my own.”

Step, slide, step, turn.

Vomit slithered up their throat. Their eyes burned with the effort to keep it down, despite the writhing of their stomach and the taste of maggots in their mouth.

A particularly fast whirl caused Whumpee to lose their footing, almost bringing them both to the floor. Whumper was quick enough to avoid disaster, but it put them out of sync with the music for several beats. 

“Watch it, Whumpee. You will not ruin this for me.” He said harshly. “Keep slipping and I’ll snip your legs.”

The again didn’t need to be said. 

But, Whumpee was trying their best, except every movement only exacerbated their aches and exhaustion. Their breathing became laboured and their limbs felt heavy, their beaten body unable to keep up with the overexertion. 

They wanted to tap out now. 

Whumpee tried to pull away, releasing his shoulder and stepping out of his grasp, only for his grip on their other hand to constrict. Whumper drew them back in, gracefully spinning them as he did so, and pulling them up against his chest in a flourish. They gasped as he once again agitated their wounds.

“Where are you going zuikutis? We’re not done yet.” He pinned them even closer to him, leaning down to whisper in their ear. “I can hear your heart hammering. Does our dancing make you that excited?” Whumpee tried to pull away, but their efforts were fruitless. Their body was drained and Whumper was holding them too tight. 

They were about to slump against him, give in and let Whumper sway them on the floor, accept whatever punishment he saw fit, but before they could fully relax, he pulled back, placing their arms once again in the position for a waltz. His expression was harsh, “I said we weren’t done yet, mielasis.” Whumpee flinched, eyes shifting to the people outside the dance floor, but he started to move them once more.

Whirling and pulling. Twisting and pulling. Spinning and pulling. Pulling. Pulling. Pulling.

They can’t keep up.

The music seemed to intensify with their panic. Whumpee could hear their pulse pounding in their ears. The sound of their harsh breathing contrasted with Whumper’s controlled ones. The voices at the edge of the room grew. Tapping of shoes on the pristine floor echoed in their head.

Each sound pushed against their skull, battling one another for space in their mind. Whumpee began to wobble more, unsteady feet tripping their partner. Hands clawing at whatever they held. Chest tightening. Vision blurring. Throat closing. Tired. Hot. Dizzy. 

Let go. Let go. Let go. Let go. Let go. LET GO-

“Breathe, it’s over.”

A hand rubbed soothing circles along their back. Whumpee blinked rapidly, vision and mind slightly clearing. They found themself leaned down, hovering over the floor.

The song had finished. Whumper had dipped them. 

The crowd around them released small whoops and cheers for all the dancers, surrounding the couple with the sharp clap of applause. Whumpee tensed. Whumper hurried to calm them.

“Ramiai, ramiai vargšas.” He slowly pulled them back to their feet. “I see I got carried away. This was too much for you.” Whumper told them softly. “We’ll work on it.”

Whumpee couldn’t process what he was saying, too busy trying to return to the world around them. They were pliant as he led them off the dance floor.

They spent the next few minutes leaning into Whumper as they calmed themself down. If they could think clearly, Whumpee would have pulled away from him long ago, but they simply did not have the mental capacity for hatred or fear right now.

After they reached a more coherent state, he spoke. “I’m going out for a smoke.” Whumpee was still breathless from their dancing, barely able to catch up to what he was telling them. “You don’t have to join me, I know how much you hate it. But,” Whumpee suddenly grabbed their arm, throwing them off balance once more.

“Stay here.” They didn’t think they could anywhere if they wanted to, they were too light headed from dancing. That was probably the point. “I’ll be back in 10 minutes.” 

Whumper examined them a final time, before nodding to himself. He steered Whumpee to a corner, despite their, almost drunken, stumbling. Then, they were on their own. 

They felt the need to cry, the tears pressing against the back of their eyes, but they- they just- it wasn’t working. They couldn’t. Not here. They just needed to focus on their breathing. 

They leaned against the wall, thankful for its cool surface, hoping to steady themself. 

In… Out… 

In… Out…

In… Out… 

Rhythmic breathing slowed their racing heart. Air stopping its fight in their lungs. Muscles no longer protesting as loudly. Whumpee’s body finally calmed from the stress of his waltz. 

They took a few more moments to themself, forehead pressed firmly against the plaster. Just breathing. Mind emptying. Preparing for a few more hours of struggle.

They could do this. 

“Whumpee.” A hand landed on their shoulder, warm and familiar. They jolted, spinning around. They froze once their gaze landed on Caretaker.

Her dress, a fitted corset around her middle that flowed out into a long skirt, was a striking cerulean color that complimented her eyes. There was a large collar that covered from her neck to her shoulder, decorated with sapphires, holding a sheer cape that flowed down to trail behind her. Her makeup used only various shades of blue, highlighting her dark skin. 

They felt their eyes water faintly at the sight of such a familiar face. It had been too long.

“C-Caretaker!” Whumpee cringed at their own voice, simultaneously too rough and too bright. “Wh-what a surprise. It’s been a while.” Whumpee tried to keep their cool. They couldn’t drag her into this, they wouldn’t, no matter how much they might want to.

A whirlwind of emotions flashed through Caretaker’s eyes, too quick for Whumpee to tell what she was feeling, before hardening, anger and determination shining through. “Where were you! I- We kept looking for weeks.” Her gaze saddened slightly, “I- I thought something had happened to you. When you didn’t answer after you went in… I was worried, and then the incident-”

“Well!” Whumpee clapped their hands together, effectively cutting off the woman. “As you can see I’m fine. Didn’t they tell you where I was? My comm broke, nothin’ serious.” They told her carefully. “And, you know I had that vacation lined up,” their lips stretched into a shaky smile. “That’s all. Nothing to get so worked up about!” They laughed. Whumpee hoped their expression was convincing enough.

“But-”

Whumpee sighed. “Look, I know I never reached out-”

“What- Never reached out! I sent you so many messages, you missed all my calls.” That was because Whumper had taken their phone. “You never miss my calls.” Whumpee stiffened. That was very true. They made sure to never miss a call from her again. “Then one day you just told me to stop contacting you completely!” They hadn’t known about that, though Whumpee wasn’t very surprised. 

Caretaker averted her gaze. “D-did I do something wrong? I would’ve left you alone if you had just told me what really happened.” She grabbed Whumpee’s hands. “I just- I-…” The woman paused, taking a deep breath before continuing. “You’re someone I care deeply about, I thought we were close. I-I needed to make sure you were okay… I’m sorry.” Her body slumped, the rage and conviction seeping out, dropping Whumpee’s hands. All that was left was a tired, worried friend.

As they watched their partner deflate, Whumpee realized something. Here she was, one of the few people willing to look for them, and all Whumpee could do was brush them off. As much as they hated it, however, they were firm in their belief; they would not rope Caretaker into this. It was not safe. They had faith in her ability as a hero, but Whumpee had seen, had experienced, what Whumper could do first hand, and they would not take the risk. They would never forgive themself if something happened to her.

But they would not leave Caretaker with nothing either. 

Whumpee bent down, hoping to console their companion. “No, Caretaker, I-”

“You never introduced me to your lovely acquaintance here, dear.” Whumpee bolted back up, putting as much distance between the two of them as they could. The man now next to them, leaned down, extending a hand to Caretaker while the other wrapped around their waist. “Whumper. Whumpee’s fiance .”

Caretaker’s eyes widened in shock, recognition flashing, before she smoothed her expression out into a smile. “I see! It’s nice to meet you. I’m Caretaker, Whumpee’s friend, their partner.” She took his hand, squeezing tightly. They silently stared off at each other, before Whumper drew his hand back and straightened. “Y’know, Whumpee never mentioned they were dating anyone.” The accusation was clear in her tone.

Whumper’s fingers twitched. “Well, we wanted to keep our relationship a secret. Taking the time to tell everyone would be a hassle if we weren’t sure. And you know how annoying those pesky reporters can be.” The arm around their hips tightened slightly, a warning. “Right, Whumpee?”

Whumpee straightened, trying to school their face into that of a happily engaged person. “Y-Yes- yes, of course. Sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. A-as you can see,” they waved in his direction, “this was also part of why I took that time off.”

Don’t ask more. Do not ask more. Please.

“Huh… Then, when you set the wedding date do tell me Whumpee. I would love to come.” 

Whumper twitched again, his eyes darkening. “When we do, I’ll be sure you are the first one to know.” He shifted, turning slightly, planning to drag Whumpee off with him. “Now, there are-”

“Oh!” She grabbed Whumpee’s arm to stop them. Whumper glared at the offending limb, and Whumpee could practically see the violence run through his brain. “One more thing,” Caretaker’s smile became strained and her eyes narrowed. “Whumpee, when do you plan on getting back to work? I know you said you were taking a vacation, a very important one at that, but all vacations end, right? You’re very important to the agency, and the boss is starting to get worried. You’ll have to come back soon, you know how they get-” 

Whumper cut in, pulling them out of her grasp, not giving Whumpee a chance to speak, composure slipping. “No.” He glared down at Caretaker, who stiffened and glared back in response, fists at her sides. Whumper cleared his throat. “Now if you’ll excuse us, there are more introductions Whumpee and I must make. Come along, darling.” 

Whumper bent down, cupping Whumpee’s face and smashing their lips together. Instinctively, their hands went up to rest on his chest, neither pushing away nor pulling closer. The acrid tang of smoke invaded their nostrils and the sour taste of tobacco stuck to their tongue. Their eyes scrunched close, they didn’t want to do this in front of Caretaker. Whumper felt their resistance, tightening his arm painfully until they finally kissed back, instead wrapping their arms around his neck. 

Just sell it.

Whumpee felt Whumper instantly soften at their touch, as always, relaxing into the kiss. He kept them there together for another few seconds before they broke for air. 

When they turned to look at Caretaker, her face was filled with horror. Her arms were limp at her sides and she gawked at them with dread. Whumper smirked, a cat who got his cream, before turning and taking Whumpee along with him, the arm around their middle again a vice. 

While they walked away, Whumpee turned their head one last time to look at Caretaker, silently pleading that she didn’t pry even further. Caretaker nodded, hands once again fists, with determination in her eyes. 

Whumpee didn’t think that Caretaker understood what they were asking her to do. 

This wouldn’t end well.

[whumblr]

Whump prompt #64

"That's my mark on them," Whumper purred as Caretaker stared at the scar on Whumpee's shoulder. "They're mine. And you're not taking them anywhere."

"Oh yeah?" Caretaker snapped back. Blazing eyes found Whumpee's, who looked away in shame. But Caretaker wouldn't have it. He grabbed their face, both hands, looked them deep in the eyes.

And he kissed them full on the mouth.

Whumpee sputtered, utterly confused, embarrassed even, a hand shakily reaching up to touch over their lips as Caretaker pulled away. They stumbled lightly, but an arm snagged around theirs and pulled them against Caretaker.

"That's my mark on them," Caretaker snarled. "I can easily plant one right over yours. And they're coming home. With me!"

[jordanstrophe]

More Walter and Gabriel? 👁👁 perchance?

Critical roll - I don't even know what timeline this is anymore

CW: Parental whumper, chained, captive

Gabriel shakily pulled his pant leg up. The thick cold chain had been left on his ankle far too long and was starting to bruise.

Sometimes the man felt kind enough to give him a break and take it off. With strict supervision, of course, but his mood had been sour lately.

He could ask, and would probably get it; but the thought of approaching the man and speaking to him willingly threw the pit of his stomach in a storm.

His ankle wasn't looking well, however.

He swallowed past the pit in his throat and stood behind Walter, who was on the couch reading the latest newspaper. It was the only news the man consumed, and Gabriel was forbidden from it.

Probably because his sudden disappearance was still being printed. He saw a glimpse of it once in the trash can. 'Search for Missing Man Intensifies: Vehicle Still Unfound, Whereabouts Unknown. Authorities Urge Public to Report Sightings.'

"Can I ask for something?" Gabriel softly spoke. Walter tilted his head back, his once scorn expression turning soft.

"My Dove," He smiled and extended his hand for Gabriel to take. He didn't want the man to grab him but didn't dare disobey. His hand was taken as Walter pulled him onto the couch beside him.

"Look at you speaking up. What is it I can do for you, my son?" Walter hummed and stroked his face. Gabriel huffed and blinked his eyes closed. He gritted his teeth hoping his voice won't come out in terror.

The man didn't seem to like that kind of voice. Said it made him feel like a "monster" to see Gabriel terrified of him.

"The chain," Gabriel half stuttered. "It's bruised and starting to hurt. Can you.... Do something?" He asked.

He watched the man's eyes dart to his ankle and stiffen. "Oh, Dove, I forgot about that. Why didn't you say something sooner?" Walter scolded. He reached to his belt and unhooked his dozen-keyed ring. It jingled as he fiddled for the right one, then waved his hand.

"Leg up, on my knee." He ushered. Gabriel sighed as he lifted his leg into Walter's lap. He winced as Walter firmly gripped his ankle and he felt eyes burning his soul.

"Do you remember the rule?" Walter asked lowley.

"Never to leave your sight." Gabriel quoted in a mimicking tone.

"That's my boy." Walter beamed up as he ruffled Gabriel's hair. There was a rusty click as the chain popped off his leg and was lowered to the floor. The lack of weight felt overwhelmingly freeing. Gabriel pulled his leg out of the man's lap and curled them to his chest, rubbing his ankle.

"Thanks." He flatly mumbled into his leg. He knew the rule; he was not to leave the man's presence. They watched a movie, he helped cook dinner and he played the piano with the man lingering over him the whole time.

He hated every second of it. But having the chain off was even better.

-------

I would have so much fun rewriting the entire story from scratch with my current writing style. My boys. My beautiful boys. I miss them

ALSO LOOK THEY GOT FANART FROM @nials-stuff

Look with your eyes, it is so in front of you