#tw caretaking as a form of whump

[serickswrites]

Hello again!! I was just wondering if you'd be willing to write some Hero whump with forced caretaking from the Villain??? Only if you want to!! Your writing is the best!

Hello, Anon! I can definitely write this for you! Please enjoy

Warnings: captivity, torture, barbed wire, blood, restraints, torture, infection, caretaking as a form of whump, unconsciousness

Villain smiled as they stared down at their victim. Hero was slumped over in the chair Villain had bound them to, blood flowing from their wrists and chest where Villain had wrapped them with barbed wire. Hero had passed out hours ago and hadn't woken yet.

"You are a delight to see," Villain purred as they lifted Hero's head to admire the cuts along Hero's jaw. "Ah!" Villain shouted as they dropped Hero's head. "You're burning up."

Villain tapped Hero's cheek. "Wake up," they ordered. But Hero didn't reply. "Fucking wake up."

Hero didn't wake.

"I said fucking wake up," Villain growled as they pressed on the largest cut on Hero's chest, pressing on the red, inflamed skin. Hero's face contorted with pain, but they didn't wake.

"Damn it," Villain said as they stopped trying to force Hero awake.

They knew what they had to do. Even though they didn't want to. They had to if they wanted to keep playing with Hero. "Don't say I never did anything for you," Villain muttered as they, with gloved hands, carefully unwound the barbed wire. Blood streamed down Hero's wrists and chest as Villain pulled the barbed wire free.

But still, Hero didn't wake.

Villain carefully lifted Hero in their arms. "You can't ever mention this to anyone," they said to the unconscious Hero.

Villain deposited Hero into the tub, turning the taps so that only lukewarm water would flow. "I'm just doing this because I want more time to hurt you. Don't get confused."

Hero didn't reply.

"Besides," Villain said as they watched the water rise, "this could be fun as well."

Hero's eyes flew open in time to see Villain push their head below the surface. "So much fun."

[highwaywhump]

Joey gets a nosebleed and isn’t quite sure how to handle it.

TW/CW: conditioned whumpee, pet whump (not really), whumpee afraid caretaker will hurt him (doesn't happen), nosebleeds and descriptions of blood

--

The morning had been deceptively calm up until that point. It all starts when Joey’s top lip feels warm. The feeling subconsciously tips him off and he swipes his fingers across his face. They come back bloody. 

A part of him he thought was long since gone suddenly awakens and forms a curse on his tongue as drops of his blood drips down onto the kitchen table. He holds his hands under his face and leans back to keep from staining the table further, and instead it drips onto his shirt. When he leans forward again to save his shirt it drips between his legs and onto the kitchen chair he’s sitting on. 

“No, no, nonono…” Joey whines desperately to himself as he stumbles backwards and to his feet. The chair scratches loudly along the floor. One of his arms shoot out to help regain balance and he knocks over his glass, spilling the last of his juice on the table and down onto the floor. Joey hiccups something halfway to a sob when he sees the red droplets on the cupboards across the room, which were no doubt flung there during his flailing. 

There are tears in his eyes when he finally stills, focusing on breathing. Can he clean this up before Aaron comes into the kitchen to tell him goodbye before he leaves for work? He looks around. Definitely not. There’s juice and scratches on the floor and blood everywhere. He probably can’t even reach the red drops on the cupboard. He doesn’t know where the cleaning supplies are, and even if he did he wouldn’t know which were okay to use on hardwood and which would stain it further. 

The only way out is to keep Aaron out of the kitchen and take care of the mess when he’s at work. Joey presses his fingers against his nose and tilts his head back, willing the blood to stop. If he can only clean himself up with paper towels, somehow cover the stain on his shirt and meet Aaron in the hallway to stop him from entering the kitchen at all-

“No, wait, don’t lean back,” Aaron’s voice cuts through his rambling thoughts like sunshine through stormclouds. He has entered the kitchen without a sound - or maybe Joey was too upset about his bleeding nose to notice. Joey whips around and makes a noise that is halfway terrified, halfway questioning. What do I do? To his great despair, another couple of drops fling from his hands and land on Aaron’s shirt - a deadly sin if there ever was one. Joey’s eyes are huge and brimful of tears. 

Aaron does not at all seem to mind the blood as he raises his hands up to Joey’s head. Joey doesn’t dare move a muscle. This is it, he thinks as he feels Aaron’s hand at the base of his skull, the other one on his chin. . He’ll choke me out. The other shoe has dropped.

But Aaron only gently presses, and Joey immediately folds, following the pressure until he’s pushed his head forwards. 

“It’s dripping on the floor-“ Joey starts to sob. 

“We’ll clean it up after,” Aaron says, not missing a beat, and Joey takes the words to heart unquestioningly. “You’re okay, it’s just a nosebleed. Come over to the sink and tip your head forwards.” Aaron’s voice is calm and not rushed at all. He’s not mad, Joey realizes. 

He trustingly follows Aaron’s directions and stumbles over to lean his head over the sink. He wants to grip the edge of the sink for balance, but his hands are covered in blood so he ends up holding them in tight, tight fists instead, not quite sure what to do. 

“There we go,” Aaron says as the blood drips into the sink, still holding a warm hand to the back of Joey’s head. “We want it out, not down your throat.”

“M-hm,” Joey says through his teeth, not confident to say anything else at the moment. 

“Do you think you can pinch your nose shut?” Aaron gently asks, taking a step to the side to try and meet Joey’s eye. “I read somewhere that will help stop it.”

“Y-you do it,” Joey says before sense can get the better of him. But Aaron nods. 

“Okay. Tell me if it hurts.” Aaron gently takes hold of the soft flesh of joey’s nose between his thumb and forefinger. Joey is shaking until he feels Aaron’s other hand slightly tighten its grip at the base of his skull. The effect is instantaneous. He relaxes into the secure grip, of which he realizes there have been very few of since he came here. Aaron is always careful and gentle with him, and asks before he touches him, whether it’s verbal or non-verbal. Joey has found he likes that, and still ... the trained, ingrained, good-boy-part of him likes feeling a firm, steady hand.

“Remember to breathe, sweetheart,” Aaron suggests after a few moments, and Joey does as he’s told. Lips parted, he takes measured, steady breaths. 

For a minute or two, neither say anything. The blood eventually stops oozing out between Aaron’s fingers, and he loosens his grip. 

“I got blood on your shirt,” Joey hopelessly reminds his keeper. “And the cupboards.”

Aaron’s hand moves down to where his neck becomes his spine and gently massages him there with his fingers. Joey feels the tension slowly melt and run down his bones, disappearing. 

“I have many shirts and cupboards, Joey. I only have one you.”

--

tags <3 @simplygrimly @castielamigos-whump-side-blog @briars7 @hackles-up @doveotions

@just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @kixngiggles @firewheeesky @maracujatangerine @nicolepascaline

@whumpthisway @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight @whumping-snail @pumpkin-spice-whump @pigeonwhumps

@whumplr-reader @considerablecolors @dustypinetree @snakebites-and-ink @inkstainsonmyhands12

@taterswhump @hxakfhakbcbqkk

[chaotic-orphan]

Whumptober No. 1

Race Against Time

Search Party // Panic Attack // "If only we could hold on.”

TW: lady whump, blood, lady whumpee, multiple whumpees, male whumper

Welcome to Whumptober everyone 3:) I am doing all 31 days~

*~*~*~*~*

Caretaker kicked Whumper’s door to the cabin open, gun in hand, barrel finding Whumper’s chest immediately and locking on. Immediately. Because Whumper was sitting on the couch with a book in hand, waiting for Caretaker to arrive. At the commotion he raised his head and smiled.

“Ah, Caretaker, I was wondering when you’d come back.”

“Where is he?” Caretaker all but growled. Whumper didn’t answer. He tilted his head to the side, eyes locked on Caretaker’s the whole time, as if Caretaker wasn’t holding a gun that could kill him in heartbeat. A small squeeze of the trigger, so gentle a touch for such a big weight off her shoulders.

Caretaker could kill him, she realised. Right here, right now. She could be free of him forever. A tremor ran through her hands at the possibility. So tempting. So tantalising. If she killed him she wouldn’t get Whumpee back.

“You know you really shouldn’t aim those things at someone you don’t intend to shoot.”

Caretaker’s eyes flashed. “Try me.”

Whumper hummed, snapping the book shut and placing it on the table beside the couch. Caretaker swallowed, planting her feet on the ground, expecting him to stand.

Instead he crossed one leg over the other, resting his ankle on his knee and leaning his elbow on the armrest, his hand propping up his cheek. Completely relaxed.

“Where’s Whumpee?” Caretaker ground out through clenched teeth. Whumper smiled coyly, his eyes the half lidded fox gaze, that saw everything. It was as if he could strip back skin with his gaze, peeling back layers and peeking inside you to see how you thought, how you felt, what made you tick, what made you scared, what made you scream. The world his playground; people his play things.

“Did you come alone?” Whumper asked instead. The question sent shivers down her spine because yes, yes she did come alone and he knew that. She could feel it. He just asked to let her know he knows.

Caretaker stepped closer, hopefully menacing, but her body was thrumming with a mixture of fear, anxiety and adrenaline. She had to keep her nerves for god sake, her hands clammy on the grip.

She clicked off the safety. “Where’s Whumpee?”

Whumper smiled. It made the hairs on her arms stand on end, at attention, every fibre of her being registering the threat he was to her. And he wasn’t even moving. He was just sitting. Fuck! She was freaking out.

“Look at you, Caretaker. Taking the initiative, I told you that you’re magnificent,” Whumper purred. “If you could see yourself right now you’d know what I’m talking about.”

Caretaker swallowed, trying to dislodge the lump that formed in her throat. This is just his trick, his verbal disarmament. Reel you in with his honeyed words and once he has you, he…

Caretaker steeled her resolve, raising the gun a little higher, about to ask where Whumpee was again when Whumper stood suddenly and she faltered. His movements fluid like a cat, a deadly grace as he towered over her, humming. She fought the urge to step back.

“How long do you think a person can survive without breathing, Caretaker?” He asked, his voice rumbling in his chest, echoing off the wooden cabin walls and back to her ears.

“What?” She asked.

Whumper put his hands behind his back, observing her down his nose now. “How long do you think someone can survive without oxygen?”

Dread opened in her guy like a black hole, yawning and threatening to pull her organs into it. “Wh— what does that have to do with anything?” She stammered, hating her mutinous voice.

Whumper hummed, shrugging. “It may or may not have something to do with where Whumpee is,” he said casually. Caretaker paled.

“So would you say a minute? Two minutes? Say, how long was this delightful chat, hmm?” He crooned, a ghost of a smile on his lips.

“Whu—” Panic and rage blinded her at his words, heart jumping into her throat because how long have they been speaking? Was it longer than a minute? Two? Three? Can normal people go without oxygen for three minutes? Could Whumpee?

She abandoned the thought of shooting Whumper, clicking the safety on and opting instead to hit him with it. A blunt weapon, probably more effective than killing him if she wanted Whumpee back and he caught her wrist before it could make contact.

How— she didn’t even see him move. Her eyes widened as she yanked back, but her wrist didn’t budge from his grip. His eyes flashed down at her, tipping his chin back as a smirk slowly made its way across his face.

He reached his free hand to her face, cupping her cheek. She flinched at the contact, but Whumper didn’t make fun of her for it. She was trembling violently, her index finger pulsing, reaching for the safety to click it off and shot him because she had to get away—

Whumper yanked her closer, making her lose her balance and stumble forward into him. He plucked the gun from her hand, clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth. “So bold of you, Caretaker. To think you could threaten me.”

Tears welled behind her eyes. “Please,” she begged. “Please just tell me where Whumpee is. Please let him go.”

Whumper tilted his head, regarding her. “And what do I get in return?” He mused but Caretaker didn’t have time to negotiate! Whumpee didn’t have time!

“Anything!” She blurted out, desperate, trying to pull her hand free from his grip. “Please! Please! He could be dying! He could be dead, please!”

“Anything,” Whumper repeated, tasting the word on his tongue. “How interesting. Tempting. Exactly what I wanted to hear.”

Caretaker lurched forward, grabbing a fistful of his shirt, eyes wide. “Please! Anything! Please, just free Whumpee! Please!”

Whumper paused. “Are you begging?”

“Yes! Yes! I’m begging you, please!” She cried, her heart racing, feeling sweat bead on the back of her neck, horribly conscious about the passing seconds ticking by while Whumpee could be dead or dying, or unconscious.

Whumper’s smile glinted with a knife’s edge as he leaned his head down to hers. “You don’t look like you’re begging, Caretaker.”

Ice flushed her blood, her knees locking as her heart stuttered, shaking like a dog during halloween. Her mouth suddenly very dry, but she was hesitating. She couldn’t— no, for Whumpee.

Her face flushed with shame as she dropped to her knees in front of him. He still didn’t release her wrist, holding it above her head now, tears burst from her lower eyelids, spilling over her cheeks. She stared at his feet.

“Please,” she whispered, tightening her free hand into a fist on her thigh. “Please let him go.”

“Look at me, Caretaker,” Caretaker stared at the ground, she didn’t want to give him the pleasure of seeing her cry. But Whumper didn’t let her have any of her dignity. He sat down and tilting her head up to look at him. “I’ll release Whumpee, if you take his place.”

Caretaker flinched. “What?” She asked with a stolen breath.

Whumper smiled, sitting back in the couch and propping his head up on his hand again, his eyes dancing with a pleased maliciousness.

“You heard me, Caretaker. Those are my terms. You for Whumpee,” he said, his eyes flicking to something behind her. “And I’d say you need to decide quickly.”

Caretaker searched his face for a trick, for a lie, for any hint that he was joking but he wasn’t. He was just watching her with his cut amber eyes, smirk on his face because he already knew her answer.

She looked away from him. “Fine,” she ground out through clenched teeth. “Now let Whumpee go.”

Whumper sighed. “Alright. But first, I need you to do something for me.”

Caretaker’s eyes burned, narrowing into a glare. “No, give me Whumpee! Now! He could be dead already!”

Whumper tightened his hand on her wrist but she didn’t wince or show it hurt. She needed Whumpee. To see him safe and sound. Whumper leaned forward, making her lean back almost falling if he didn’t have a tight on her wrist keeping her up.

His hot breath fanned her face, blowing a stray hair as he spoke. “I can leave Whumpee to die all I want, Caretaker. I’m the only one who knows where he is, now do you want to save him, or do you want to refuse me and waste more time?”

Caretaker pulled her wrist back and this time he let her. Still glaring, she kept his gaze. “What do you want me to do?”

“I need you to get me something from that room over there,” he said, nodding his head to the right. Caretaker turned her head to follow his order and nodded.

She got to her feet quickly, speed walking over, but Whumper stopped her. “Don’t you want to know what?”

“Tell me when I’m there,” she spat, throwing the door open. Hanging from his wrists, covered in blood with a blindfold and a gag stood Whumpee. His head hanging on his chest. Caretaker covered her mouth with her hands and screamed into them, running in and putting her hands on his face.

“Whumpee! Whumpee! Can you hear me?!” She pressed her ear to his chest, sobbing when she heard his heartbeat. He was alive. He was alive, he was alive, he was alive, he was alive.

“You know,” Whumper drawled from behind her. “If you’re coming in guns blazing, you really should do a quick check to see if the thing you want is already there.”

“You tricked me,” Caretaker cried, turning her furious gaze to Whumper. Instead, her eyes found the barrel of a gun.

He smiled lazily. “Not at all, to be fair, breathing is hard when you’re strung up like that, you wouldn’t think it, but your arms squeeze your chest and make it harder to breathe, especially when you’re gagged and dangling.”

“You’re a bastard,” she hissed.

“Compliments don’t get you anywhere with me, Caretaker, but you’ll learn. Maybe the first thing I’ll do to you is leave you like Whumpee here, hmm?” He asked, stepping into the room and closing the door behind him. Caretaker took a cautious step back, one arm stretched to protect Whumpee, keep him behind her.

“I don’t care what you do to me, just let him go.”

“Mmf?” Caretaker whirled to face Whumpee, eyes wide.

“Whumpee? Whumpee! Can you hear me?” She reached up and pushed the blindfold away from his eyes. “Whumpee. It’s me. It’s okay. You’re going to be okay.”

Whumpee’s eyes widened, flicking to Whumper and back to Caretaker again, struggling in his chains. Trying to speak behind the gag.

“Hold on, I’ll—”

She felt Whumper’s presence behind her and jumped, going to hit him but he grabbed her by the back of her neck and squeezed until she stopped struggling. Whumpee’s struggles increased tenfold, screaming into the gag as Whumper leaned down to Caretaker’s ear.

A smile in his voice as he said, “or maybe, I’ll just keep you both.”

[wh3nturtlesfly]

Hello @epiclamer ! I saw you were looking for some hero whumpee and villain caretaker, I hope this could suffice :)

CW/TW: Hypothermia and frostbite, near death experience, whump

The room was immersed in white. Creeping over the metal walls and across the concrete floor. Icicles hung from the ceiling and left the floor slick and shining. The patterns would have been beautiful in any other case, spindling across the room in delicate flakes, but now they left the Hero shivering.

Their thin t-shirt served as almost no defense against the blistering temperatures- their coat had been taken long ago. Now Hero shook, red blotching their exposed forearms and stinging their cheeks.

Hero shifted, trying to touch as little of their bare skin to the concrete as possible. The chill numbed their muscles, though it didn’t take the pain of the bruises away. Supervillain had made sure of that.

Energy seeped out of them too fast to keep up. Too many times they had caught their eyelids threatening to slip shut. Their fingertips had frozen to the point they couldn’t feel them anymore. Hero was helpless, trapped in the pain that couldn’t even be healed by sleep. Their tears crystallized when they couldn’t hold it in anymore.

When the click of the latch sounded, Hero went rigid. Fingers numb, they couldn’t form so much as a fist, much less fight off anything more that came their way. Supervillain knew this as they strode in.

“My, you’re looking a bit blue my dear,” Their lips split in a cruel smile. Supervillain stepped forward and Hero inched back. They couldn’t do it- couldn’t fight-

Hero’s back bumped against the wall and they flinched from the new wave of cold that shot up their spine. Trapped, and Supervillain was well aware.

“Don’t look so afraid now. You know what I want,” They stepped forward before Hero could scramble away- not that they had the strength to- and grabbed a fistful of their hair. It crackled with the frost that had settled in their locks. “You’re only making this harder on yourself, and really, I don’t think you have much left to give.”

Supervillain yanked harshly on Hero’s hair and received a sharp cry in return. Hero fought to pry their fingers away but their own muscles were stiff. It was like moving through molasses, they couldn’t even manage to grasp Supervillain’s hand.

“It's lovely seeing you struggle,” they chuckled, pulling Hero so close that they could feel the breath upon their cheek. Warm. Their hands shifted to either side of Hero’s cheek, and they couldn’t help but lean into the touch, starved of heat for much too long. “Now, give in and we can forget this mess.”

They eyed Hero expectantly, brushing a finger down Hero’s cheek and leaving them chasing the trail of warmth that followed. It was a wicked game to play, though it was working. Hero wished to be free- to have their bones no longer encased in ice. It hurt to think, hurt to breathe. Supervillain’s touch was like fire, beautiful and comforting- and yet-

“I c-can’t.” The words were broken as they fell from Hero’s mouth.

Supervillain’s expression darkened. “You insolent fool,” their grip tightened, fingernails pricking Hero’s skin.

They hurled Hero to the ground and their cheek collided hard with the concrete. Pain shot through the Hero. It was all so cold. Hero groaned as they pushed themself up. Not a moment later and a foot connected with their stomach, sending them into the back wall.

“You just never know when to stop, do you?” Supervillain chuckled, eyes alight. “This time I’ll make sure the message is clear.”

“No- please,” The words were choked as Hero clawed at their ground. Their muscles refused to move, stiff with the chill and reddened with bruises and the smear of blood. Supervillain stalked forward and seized Hero by the throat, pinning them against the wall.

Hero gasped as the air was forced from their lungs. It burned. Squeezing, squeezing, they could feel Supervillain’s hands crushing their windpipe and yet there was nothing they could do to stop it. Pins and needles lingered in their joints. They couldn’t move.

The corners of their vision began to grow dark. Hero’s eyelids were heavy and a new wave of panic shot through Hero. They were falling unconscious. Fingers flexing, reaching for any sort of movement. They couldn’t close their eyes- they wouldn’t wake up again.

“Not so strong now,” Supervillain cackled, squeezing tighter and grinning when a choked cry fell from Hero’s blue lips.

Hero fumbled through pleas but no sound came out. Flakes swirled around Supervillain’s head like a halo, though they were anything but. Their lips were spread wide into the cruelest of smiles, nails pinching into Hero’s skin. They had to stay awake- they had to hold on-

They had to…

Hero went limp and fell into the void of ice and darkness.

***

Words mumbled above their head as if suspended in a fog. Hushed at first, a silent plea. Hero’s head lulled to the side as their eyelids lazily peaked open.

“It’s alright-” Were they being spoken to? Their eyes searched the space, but they couldn’t see anything. “It’s okay, you’re safe.”

Hero was dizzy. Everything felt distant. They couldn’t remember. This voice, it swirled around their form, but it was undeniably kind, comforting even. Supervillain would never-

Supervillain. Panic shot down Hero’s spine. They leapt up from where they had been laid only to discover they were trapped. Eyes darting frantically around, they trashed in the covers that held them down. Get out, they had to get out-

A hand pressed against their chest and Hero fell back onto the covers. Blankets, they must be in a bed. Why would they be in bed?

“You mustn’t move too much, no need to start any new wounds.”

Hero looked up to find the Villain staring at them. Worry shone in the wrinkles by their eyes though they hid it behind a gentle smile. The hand that wasn’t resting on the blankets held a damp rag. Beside the Villain was a bowl of water, steam pooling gently above the surface.

Villain dunked the cloth in the water and wrung it out until droplets of water no longer fell into the bowl. They reached forward and began to peel away the layer of blankets that were wrapped around Hero’s form.

“No! Wait, please!” Hero shouted before they could stop themself. They pulled desperately at the covers, their warmth. They couldn’t feel the scrape of cold air against their skin again. Couldn’t live with another second of clouded breath and silent shivers.

Sorrow crossed Villain’s face and they laid a hand on the Hero’s own, warming it with the touch of their fingers. “I have to treat the damaged skin. I promise I won’t hurt you.” They studied Hero’s expression, waiting until the tension in their shoulders faded before taking Hero’s arms from beneath the covers.

For the first time Hero noted the pinkish-blue tint of their fingertips. They had been too stunned to care before, but now the tingling sensation made sense. Frostbite.

Hero couldn’t help but sigh as the rag was wrapped around their hands. It spread like fire, licking up their insides and settling in a pool of heat. The cuts that covered their skin no longer screamed with pain, and the coloring returned to their complexion.

They stayed like that for minutes, breathing softly under the embrace of heat. Villain then removed the cloth to dip it back in the bowl.

“How did you find me?” Hero asked as Villain tucked them back beneath the blankets.

“It was late, and I still had yet to see you,” Clear droplets fell into the silver bowl as Villain squeezed the rag tighter, “I found your jacket in an alleyway, and Supervillain isn’t so secretive about their ventures.”

Hero tensed at the thought of the Supervillain, but Villain caught their gaze. “Don’t worry, I won’t let them touch you again, ever.” Their expression darkened as they spoke, though was soon replaced by a reassuring smile.

This time they held Hero’s chin gently and brushed the towel across their nose. The stroke of Villain’s thumb across their cheek left searing trails and Hero longed never to lose the feeling of their touch.

Villains retrieved a small device from their pocket, a thermometer, and ran it gently across Hero’s forehead. After a small beep sounded, they observed the reading with a pleased expression.

“Your temperature has gone back up,” they said, “You’ll have some scabs, but they should heal in due time.”

Villain gathered the bowl and rag and set them at Hero’s bedside. The thermometer was tucked into their pocket, but as they moved to stand, Hero stopped them.

“Wait-” Hero grasped their arm, all the numbness had gone from their fingers and they now latched onto Villain like a lifeline. “Stay.”

Arms outstretched, desperate, Hero tightened their grip ever so slightly. They couldn’t be alone again. They wanted Villain’s comfort and the warmth that came with their touch. They wanted Villain at their side.

And the Villain listened. They settled back onto the bed and shifted close. When Hero remained with their arms outstretched, they understood and carefully wrapped their arms around the other. Hero melted into the embrace, burying their face into Villain’s shoulder. They hadn’t even realized they had started to cry…

Villains rubbed soothing circles on their back, carding through their tangled locks even when Hero’s tears soaked their sleeve. They were safe.

Hero hugged Villain tighter, latching onto them as if they were the only one left on earth, and in Hero’s world, they were. “Please don’t let go,” They mumbled into Villain’s sleeve, and ever so softly a hand rose to cup their cheek.

“I won’t Hero, I swear with everything that I never will again.”

[deckofaces]

Step Out of Line

Tw: whump, stabbing, blood, near death experience, dagger mention, Supervillain whumper, Hero whumpee, sadistic whumper (guys I swear it sounds bad but there is caretaking at the end)

@epiclamer I saw your plea in the gc for hero whumpee and villain caretaker. So I was inspired and wrote this, pls accept my offering

Hero groaned as they crashed hard into the concrete. They practically tasted it with how close their head came to smashing into it. Their open cuts and wounds screamed as they hit the floor. The rough concrete scraped against them, each second laying there felt like daggers poking their skin. 

Hero laid there dizzily, coughing for a few seconds. Was that blood that just came out of their mouth? Their vision started blurring together. They slowly looked up, two pairs of feet stood in front of them, who else joined the fight? 

They blinked a couple times at the figures, struggling to keep their head up. After another few seconds of this, the two pairs of feet merged into one. No one else joined the fight, it was just their vision lying to them. 

Hero shakily started to stand up, despite every part of their body just telling them to give up. They were a hero, they could not lay there in defeat. Supervillain stood in front of them and if they could just get one really good punch in, they might just be able to defeat them-

They felt their legs collapse out from under them, and Hero landed back on their stomach. The cool, rugged pavement greeted them once more. They could hear maniacal laughter echoing off the brick alleyway walls behind them. 

Hero breathed heavily, they pushed off the ground, oh they could see the dark red blood now. They slowly turned over to lay on their back so they could actually see. More laughing filled their ears, Supervillain crouched down next to their fallen form. 

Out of the corner of their eye, they could see something in the evil doer’s hand. Despite the darkness of the alley, Hero could see the almost blinding flash of metal. A dagger, their vision focused just enough to see the outline of a small blade. 

Their heartbeat raced, it must have been out of fear. Was Supervillain going to finish the job right there? They didn’t want to die that way. Dying to the filthy hands of Supervillain like so many others before them. Just add them to the list of fallen heroes. Hero would be just like the others, nothing special. 

Supervillain held an evil glint in their eye, grinning as they took pleasure in putting the blade directly in their face so Hero could see. “Given up yet Hero? It does not matter, you do not have a choice anyways. You will be dead in a minute.”

“N-no-“ Hero whimpered, oh so desperately trying to back away in their weakened state. 

Supervillain only cackled more, grabbing their feet and dragging them back over, which only made Hero cry out in pain. 

Without warning, they elicited a scream as Supervillain took their blade and stabbed Hero.

They couldn’t tell where, but the pain felt absolutely horrible. Another thing they knew is that they passed out soon after.

. . .

Hero stirred on something.. soft? Were they hallucinating the comfortable surface to escape the feeling of the wretched concrete? 

They opened their eyes but they were impaled by light, which confused them, wasn’t it still night time?

Hero took a minute to adjust to the light, blinking rapidly until it felt like the light no longer hurt them. They looked around the room, this clearly was not the alley, their mind had not been playing tricks on them either.

They were laying on a worn in couch, a soft blanket had been pulled all the way up to their chin. They looked under the blanket and saw bandages wrapped around their stomach, arms, and a cast on their leg. They also noticed bandages around their hands too when lifting the blanket. None of them felt too tight either, whoever did it must have taken great care.

The living room the couch sat in appeared to be small, but it was neat and tidy. They wonder what civilian rescued them, at least they hoped a civilian saved them and they were not with Supervillain. That would be so very cruel, they would rather have died on the pavement than see their face after they had given Hero a false sense of safety. 

While scanning their surroundings, their eyes drifted over to the doorway that led to the kitchen. Their eyes widened in shock. Standing there staring at them was not a civilian at all or Supervillain, it was Villain. And they were holding a bowl of chicken noodle soup?

Villain must of been bad news, they started to sit up and pull the blanket off them, but they stopped halfway through, hissing in pain. 

Villain rushed over and set the soup on the coffee table in front of the couch. They immediately pushed Hero to lay back down on the couch. “What are you thinking?? If you opened any of your wounds because of this- I swear to gods-“ They groaned thinking about it, shaking their head. 

Hero hesitated, they did not move or say anything. That only caused Villain to sigh as they gently helped them into sitting position. They grabbed the bowl of soup directly after, pulling a chair up to sit next to the couch Hero sat on. 

Hero looked at the soup with unease. They could not deny that it smelled absolutely delicious and their stomach had definitely been growling, but what if Villain put something in it? “Is that poisoned?”

“What kind of question is that? Of course not,” Villain scoffed. “You are in my home, I plan on taking care of you.”

Hero still looked at the bowl in their nemesis’s hands, unsure. Which in turn only drew out a long sigh from the villain.

“Why would I poison you after taking the time to bandage you up, if you haven’t noticed them already. Let me tell you that it took forever.” Villain gestured to Hero’s hand for reference. “I’m a villain, but if you think I’m cruel enough to bandage you all up just to kill you- I’m offended,” they rolled their eyes dramatically.

“Now watch, Hero.” They took a spoonful of the soup that they made and ate it. They swallowed and gave them an “I told you so” sort of expression. Hero looked sheepish after, letting out a small “oh.”

Villain hummed and held up another spoonful of the chicken noodle soup. “Open your mouth.”

Hero gave them a confused look again, “Are you going to try to feed me?”

Villain still held the utensil in front of the crime-stopper. “Yes,” they said simply.

“But that is embarrassing-! Please just let me feed myself,” Hero complained. They weren’t injured so much so that they could not eat the soup themself.

“Not as embarrassing as trying to challenge someone as powerful as Supervillain. I found you left for dead in that alleyway, and goodness knows you could have died if I didn’t save you. Now open up.” This time Villain did not sound like they were joking. They were stern, but they also held a touch of worry in their voice.

Hero lowered their gaze to the blanket on their lap out of shame and embarrassment. Villain had immediately shut down their complaints just with that explanation alone. 

“Why did you help me?” Hero asked quietly. “I’m a hero, I try to arrest you. This goes against what villains sort of well.. do.”

Villain let the spoon fall back into the bowl. They shook their head at Hero. “No, villains break rules and accepted norms dearest Hero, and saving you did just that. I did not step out of line if I was not following a line to begin with.”

Hero only stared at Villain. When they held the spoon up to them once again, this time they reluctantly opened their mouth and accepted the food. And consequently, Villain’s help.

[literarystarfish]

Officially saying Hi! to the whump community!

I’m kinda new to this whole “actually posting” thing (although I’ve been on tumblr for ages, I’ve always just kind of lurked.)

While this blog isn’t exclusively whump (though 99% of it will be) I thought I’d introduce myself officially.

I’d like to get more into the whump community especially and maybe come out of my shell a bit more and not feel so afraid to actually talk to some of you cool people. (What is even the best way to interact on here?! You’d think I’d know after being on tumblr for many-a-year…)

I’m not new to whump, but this blog has definitely been a new experience for me. I’ve actually never even posted an original post on my main before, so I truly made my first ever tumblr post on this here side blog!

Well, maybe I should introduce myself and see where it takes me:

You can call me Jayy or Star (she/her or they/them).

Most of my characters go by they/them in prompts so they aren’t gender specific and you can imagine them how you’d like. My longer stories differ depending on the story itself but I haven’t finished 99% of them so who knows what will happen by the time they see the light of day (if they ever do… but I hope they do..)

Whump/things I like to write or want to write about in the future:

Hidden whump/ stoic whumpees — (love when a character doesn’t show their whump)

Emotional trauma

Hurt/comfort

Fainting

Used as bait — (and make them feel guilty after)

Recovery whump or difficult recoveries — (though I don't super love Caretaker turns Whumper)

Team whump

Kidnapping/ captivity

Self sacrifice

Scars

Hero/Villain or superpowered whump

Whumpee turned Caretaker

Things I like but that I don't tend to write about as much:

Pet whump

NSFWhump

Fevers/sickfics

Psychological whump

Lab whump

Caretaker turned Whumpee

Things I don't like/don’t like to write about (though nothing is a super hard ick or anything):

Medical whump

Extremely graphic harm/ injuries/ torture/ etc.

Permanent injuries (but scars are fine)

Character deaths — (main character deaths anyway - I generally like my characters alive so I can whump them some more >:D )

Caretaker turned Whumper

Whumpee turned Whumper

It makes me so nervous to even comment on a post so tags are the best I’ve done so far. (I don’t know why its so scary to directly interact with people further than, like, reblogging and stuff @.@)

So, anyway! All that being said, if you notice anything you’d like me to keep doing, feel free to tell me!

Send me asks if you so desire!

Especially if there's something more you’d like to see or if you’d like me to expand on a post. (I’m a slow writer, but I have tons of ideas that I’d like to get down or have no ending yet. Maybe I’ll try more short form stuff. Most of my prompts have come from stories I wish I’d finally get to writing or have been writing.)

If you write for/are inspired by one of my posts, I’d LOVE to see what you come up with! Tag me if you want!

Or, alternatively of course, if there's something you think I shouldn’t do or if there's any tags you think I haven’t been tagging correctly or tw/cw I’ve been missing (I try my best but I forget much too often) that you think I should add, please let me know. Tell me what I’m doing wrong!

Even this post reaching out is a massive step for me. But everyone seems very nice and accepting here so far so I’m forcing myself to finally go for it. I really want to interact more!

Hopefully my brain doesn’t get angry with me about that but hey! baby steps.

-Jayy 💫

[ashh-ed]

oc introduction! :D

in a hopes to participate in Whumptober after quite a few months of being inactive, I thought I’d introduce my ocs who (much to their dismay) will be the victims of my Whumptober pieces! (TW: mentions of drugs, alcohol, death of sibling). This might get really confusing so apologies in advance! :))

the simplified, summarised version is here, and more details of the overall story and character relations are under the cut:

koi - whumpee, mainly following the defiant whumpee trope and emotional/psychological whump

guido - caretaker, sometimes unwilling but overall wants to help (!secret crush on koi!)

cantaro - whumper, mob boss

fab - whumpee, mainly emotional whump but sometimes physical

important side characters:

ciro - fab’s dead brother, subject of koi and fabrizio’s emotional whump

catalina - another caretaker who actually has medical experience so helps guido

now for the in depth introduction for those wanting to learn more about my story! :D note that this takes place in a mafia controlled Buenos Aires - the main thing to know is there are 2 rival families: the Tizianos and Cantaro’s family.

we’re starting off strong with Koi.

Koi is a 24 year old Egyptian male. He’s got loads of tattoos and piercings, and is a pretty tall, strong build guy. Koi works as a sex worker, which is how he got into trouble with Cantaro (the main Whumper of this story). Koi was caught sleeping with Cantaro’s wife and thats how he gets into the whump situation. I would class Koi as a defiant whumpee, and he’s also got a hefty backstory. In short, his lover, Ciro was shot in a drive-by in front of him, when they were 18. This had a huge impact on Koi and led to drinking and drug issues, and he managed to get coerced into being a prostitute and hit man by the Tizianos :( he’s really reluctant to accept any form of help as he feels a lot of shame after being taken by Cantaro which makes for an interesting recovery story.

up next, our caretaker Guido

Guido is also 24, same age as Koi as they’ve been best friends since kids. He was also good friends with Ciro, and was also there that night when Ciro was shot. Guido fled the country and got involved in crime organisations before returning to Argentina to work with the Tizianos there, and he feels slightly guilty about this as he left Koi on his own, being one of the causes why Koi was targeted and forced into prostitution by said mafia family. Guido is not a good person. He is greedy, mean and selfish. But he has a soft spot for Koi because he is in love with him, which he kind of hates but cant help how he feels. He’ll never admit it to Koi obviously. They lived together before Koi went missing and Guido takes care of Koi after rescuing him.

i could never forget Fabrizio

Fabrizio/Fab, is 18, and he is the younger brother of Ciro. This will mean a lot of emotional whump, as the violent streets of Buenos Aires have taken everything from Fab. He is the son of Santos Tiziano, the former leader of the Tiziano crime family, rivals to Cantaro’s family. Fab watched Santos get killed in front of him by Cantaro, but managed to escape Cantaro, for now. Fab is friends with Koi and Guido as they’re part of the crime family, but Fabrizio wants to get out of Buenos Aires, he’s not meant for this life. Fab is really sweet and loves cooking, he ends up moving to Louisiana at age 17 to escape all the crime family stuff in Argentina… but can he run forever?

no matter how essential to the storyline, you could never make me like Cantaro

Eleutario Cantaro (he goes by his last name usually), is a horrid man. He’s the leader of the Cantaro crime family, who openly challenge the Tizianos. Both are fighting for complete control of Buenos Aires, and while the Tizianos seem more powerful for now, the scales often get tipped and swayed. It is said that Cantaro shot Ciro, to weaken the Tiziano family. Cantaro is the main whumper here, and he is very violent and just hates Koi, so prepare for that. He is super power hungry, and wil do anything to gain more power, get revenge etc.

and last but never least, the guy who sort of set the whole story into motion, Ciro

Ciro is the eldest son of the Tiziano family, however he was shot in front of Guido and Koi when he was 18. Ciro was Koi’s lover, although they only got to date for about 6 months before the incident, they had been friends since childhood though. Ciro’s death led to Koi being pulled into the mafia circle properly, as he knew too much by this point to just walk away from the situation, and it also inadvertently led to the death of his and Fab’s dad. Ciro will mainly be mentioned in emotional whump, as Koi loved him dearly, and he was also Fab’s older brother. I am planning to write and post a Ciro death piece on here so that will be fun!

That’s pretty much everything? Thanks to anyone who read all of that, I appreciate you!!! <3

My favourite hobby is talking about my OCs so feel free to ask any questions about them/the story!

[ashdoeswhump]

Tw: anorexia, abuse

What about a ballet dancer whumpee? (I specify ballet, since that's my frame of reference, but you can do whatever you'd like with these)

What is whumper's relationship to whumpee? Dance teacher? Obsessed parent (all of us in dance knows at least one)? Maybe they're whumpee's dance partner. Or maybe, they're an obsessed fan who can't get enough of whumpee's dancing. Maybe they're rich or famous or a political leader who likes the idea of free personal entertainment.

Does whumper force them to dance for them? Do they put whumpee up on a giant music box and make them twirl for hours without rest?

Or maybe it's a g/t whump, and the music box is normal sized. Does whumpee sleep and live in the box? Are they ever allowed out?

Does whumper take them to parties to dance with them, showing off their prize?

Does whumper beat or cut the soles of whumpee's feet so they can't dance anymore? Or maybe cut them in such a way that they have to walk en pointe all the time to avoid the pain of stepping on the soles of their feet (which leads to even more pain)?

Does whumper force whumpee to starve themselves so they can have that "perfect dancing figure"? Does whumpee look in the mirror and see ribs and still think they're too fat? Do they willingly refuse meals to try and get thinner?

Does whumper even know that whumpee dances? Has whumpee kept it to themself so they can still have this one piece of themselves, this one things that they love, that whumper can't corrupt? Does whumper find out later? How do they react?

Let's talk about the physical effects of dancing as well. Trembling, aching arms. Bruised and bleeding toes. Legs that feel like jelly. A face that hurts from smiling too wide for too long. So Many Foot Cramps! Let me tell you, those hurt. When your toes cramp, it feels almost like they've been dislocated. If whumpee is forced to go en pointe too early in their life, before their body has properly developed, it could lead to ankles and feet forming wrong, so you can't walk correctly. If they go en pointe before they have the necessary ankle strength and training, they could sprain/break their ankle and cause permanent damage. If their shoes are broken in wrong, they're form will be wrong which will also lead to injuries. Also, it is incredibly difficult to walk in pointe shoes. Whumpee could twist their ankle walking down the stairs, or even just crossing a room.

Does caretaker go to great lengths once whumpee is free to help them love dancing again, because it used to bring them so much happiness? Or is it too much for whumpee, the memories so attached to the act that they can't separate the two? Does whumpee ever dance again?

[beautyconsumer]

Whumperless Whump Event Day 2

A Merciful Angel

Does your insurance cover this?: Car accident / Bystander caretaker / “Eyes open, ambulance is almost here.”

@whumperless-whump-event Second day! Late but done! Also cross posted on AO3

Relationship: Jason Todd/Grant Wilson

Fandoms: Batman, Batfam, Deathstroke (comics)

Content and TW: delirious behavior, non-graphic injury, hurt/comfort, short & sweet

Honestly? More than painful, or anything else; it was embarrassing.

Being trained to withstand wilderness, taught survival skills, enduring pain and the humiliation of Slade's insults and aggressiveness wouldn't have prepared him for this.

He wasn't even staying there for long, who the hell would want to anyways? Gotham was not a nice city to visit, it wasn't pretty or comfortable to be in. The only reason he was there was because it happened to be on his way.

He should have listened more intently to all the warning and creepy omens about this grimmy place. But Grant knew he wouldn't have listened to a threat until it hit him straight to the face.

In this case, sort of literally.

He groaned weakly, and pathetically writhed over the pavement.

He got hit by a freaking car.

The driver had immediately bailed.

He almost wanted to laugh, but if he did he might rustle his bruised ribs.

He's struggling to catch up with the situation when he takes sight of a figure, the lamp pole of the street illuminated them, creating a halo of warm light over him.

A stark difference among the gritty, blue, gray hues of the city.

Oh man, he must be dying cause he's staring at an angel.

When he finally caught glimpse of the familiar black domino mask and the loud combination of colors, aversion churned in his stomach. The last thing he needed or wanted was Robin witnessing his misery.

Which, of course, Robin's Batman was from freaking Gotham. But from what he last heard the freak had graduated himself from that title.

But these cherubic black curls and kind, worried posture under a bright yellow cape was nothing like the Robin he knew.

A merciful angel taking pity on him.

Grant blinked with drained strength, “Pretty…” he unintelligently mumbled.

The figure looming over him hums, a gloved hand goes over his cheek, and Grant takes in the warmth it produces, then noticing the cold in the rest of his body. His clothes are damp with the dirty puddles of the street.

Another stronger light blinds him, he squeezes his eyes shut.

“Hey now,” a steady patient voice says, “Open your eyes.”

Grant reluctantly obeys if only because he somehow already feels in debt with the beauty he has in front. The light sets on his right eye, Grant takes effort in keeping his eyes open.

“Good,” he says while moving the light to his other eye, voice hypnotizing and soft, “I'm Robin, can you tell me your name?”

Grant felt dizzy, reason not in his reach, yet he somehow knew not to give away information of himself to strangers, despite them looking devine and from heaven itself.

Grant was in casual clothes, he remembers, the lack of his mask noted. He's not overconfident and bold Red X.

Rationally he'd act like Grant Wilson.

But logic is not on the tablet right now.

A giddy crooked smile makes way past his senses.

“You can call me however you want, baby.”

Robin freezes, then quiet tremors rattle his body in what must be chuckles.

Grant's smile widens in satisfaction.

His eyelids feel heavier each second passes.

“No, none of that,” Robin says firmly, “Eyes open. Ambulance is on its way.”

Grant does his best to keep his eyes open, if anything to keep looking at the boy.

Red lights blink accompanied by a loud blaring noise, nausea and shivers set to second plane when said light makes it able to appreciate Robin's features more.

The domino mask can't quite hide his jaw nor the heart shaped form of his face. Those characteristics are gonna be clinging into his mind despite his efforts to keep this damn city out of his hair.

“You're gonna be alright,” Robin says.

Yeah, he's gonna be just fine.

[watermelons-dont-grow-on-trees]

Accepted

Unfair - masterlist

TW: caretaker leaving, guilt, substance abuse, fear of death, organized crime, this is barely whump actually

Tricia had sent the application months ago, almost forgot about it, until like five minutes prior, when she opened the letter.

An acceptance letter. 

"Dear Ms. Reed," it read, "Congratulations! We're pleased to offer you admission to..."

Tricia teared up and she could barely see the rest of the words. She saw the emblem of the institution on the stamp on the envelope, before she even opened it. 

She was finally going to do what she'd been dreaming of. And her less than ideal - and highly illegal - side hustle had got her to a point it wouldn't be a problem to afford it. Even if she stopped doing it.

She chewed the inside of her cheeks, leaving an organization as Wesley’s was near impossible, and without a criminal record, almost a laughable idea.

They might not narc, and who knows, worse comes to worst, police aren’t involved and she ends up dead in a ditch.

Applying for the course was not a spur of the moment decision, she had considered all possibilities before, it was only natural that they seem more intimidating now that she would actually follow through with the plan.

She couldn't keep her voice even as she called her parents, she started sobbing immediately after they picked up. Scaring the hell out of them that something was wrong. 

After she managed to explain, their tears of joy matched hers on the other end of the line. They promised to come over as soon as they got ready to celebrate. 

... 

She was careful not to let Wesley or anyone know, but she had more and more things to prepare moving a couple states over.

After finally packing up her stuff in the small studio she used to rent, she took all of it over to her parents' place. It was a tight fit, even conveniently boxed up, ever since she had moved out, they took over the room that used to be hers, so there was barely any space for her anymore, but she didn’t need to wait long.

There was a nice little apartment just off campus waiting for her, and just in a couple of days she would get the keys.

Tricia lamented over talking to Wesley for a long time. As people, they got closer to each other in the past few weeks, not that she suddenly found something to like about him, but they spent a lot of time together. Of course, her heart was in it for Marci, but was helping the man out by proxy as well. 

As employer and employee, it was going to be a rough conversation. She counted on their unfortunately close relationship to convince him not to outright kill her. She expected him to demand some form of compensation or something akin to that. 

No matter how much she trusted her intuition, she changed numbers, had her car repainted and replaced the license plate, of course only after she filled out a bunch of forms and had some tedious phone calls with some insurance people. 

She walked to Wesley's for the last time, with a plan she kept reciting in her head over and over again even as she walked up to the porch. 

She knocked and as always, Wesley opened the door. He frowned, confused. 

"I wasn't expecting you today," he stepped aside, giving her space to walk in. He had learned from his earlier mistakes, that she would knock a shoulder into him if he didn't do so. 

Tricia walked in, confidently, and turned around when he closed the door behind him. 

"I quit," she steeled herself. His confusion just grew, twisting his face into an almost cartoonish expression of confusion.

"What? But what about-" he started.

"I came to say goodbye to Marci," she interrupted harshly. If she gave him a chance to talk she might never get through this conversation. "I'm moving away, I'm going to college."

"You can't just up and leave!" He barely found his voice, so what was supposed to be an angry shout only formed as a surprised plea. 

"I'm not gonna snitch on you, don't worry, I don't wanna end up behind bars for any of this," she gestured around, already turning towards the hallway and Marci’s room.

"So- what? You- you'll what, work? Just go into debt paying for a worthless-" Wesley stammered.

"Not gonna work on me,” she held a hand up, her back already turned, “You also went to college, asshole, I saved up enough. So... this is goodbye. ‘she in her room?" Wesley pointed towards her bedroom door, clearly taken aback. 

"She's pretty out of it though," was the only thing he managed to say before Tricia left him standing in the entryway.

"Hi, honey," Marci was years older than her, but she felt like she was one of Tricia’s younger sisters. She was sitting on the floor, with her back against the foot of the bed. 

"Hey," she greeted, then her eyes trailed back to the curtains that hung over the window. They were moving gently in the breeze coming through. She seemed to be mesmerised by it. Tricia smiled, her chest hurt with disappointment, that she couldn’t do more.

"I came to say goodbye to you," Tricia stood awkwardly in the doorway fidgeting with the hem of her shirt.

It wasn't that the sight upset her, she was almost completely desensitised to it by then, but having to have this conversation, which Marci might not even remember, it was devastating. 

"Oh, why?" She asked absentmindedly, and didn't even look at Tricia. 

"I'm moving away to college," she wiped a tear away that managed to spill over her waterline against her best efforts not to let it. 

"Hmm, college," Marci repeated. She definitely won't remember this, she noted sourly. 

"Will you be okay here?" She asked and reached into her pocket to touch the little piece of paper she wrote her new number on for her. It burnt a hole in her trousers as she heard Wesley’s footsteps close in on the other side of the door. She didn't intend to give it to Marci anyway, but still brought it as some reassurance that she could. 

"I don't know," she wanted nothing more than to cry and run away, as far away from this place as humanly possible. And she feared if she didn't turn back immediately she might never leave. So she did, opened the door and slammed into Wesley's chest.

"Watch where you're going at least," he groaned. 

"Sorry... Please take care of her," she looked up at the man with a fresh wave of tears she couldn’t wipe away.

"Of course, I will," Tricia was not reassured in the slightest. 

"No, I mean, get her off the stuff and I don't know, help her build a life or something," she looked away, embarrassed that her words got jumbled up, and came out all wrong. 

"That's- okay, whatever," he shrugged. 

"Promise me?" She asked, looking down at her feet like a child.

"That's stupid," he retorted.

"Promise me,” she repeated stubbornly.

"Okay, I promise. Are we good?" Tricia nodded. "Then go. Before I change my mind,” he waved her out the door. 

She was outside before he finished the sentence and didn't dare look back. 

[syncope-syndrome]

Because @whumpprentice and I keep getting recommended car blogs... car whump!

Seriously, where amongst my #cats, #nature, #pretty people fainting do you think I'm interested in cars, Tumblr?

TW: CAR ACCIDENTS, KIDNAPPING, DROWNING, VOMITING, DRUGGING

being trapped in the trunk of a car left out in the sun. they've slipped out of the restraints a few minutes ago, but the metal's too hot to safely touch, the heat exhaustion is weakening them, and there's not a sound from the outside. sweat makes their hands too slick to grab onto much securely and dripping into their eyes, mingling with the tears forming at the thought of them baking alive in this car, alone, and no one coming until it's too late.

sitting in the front seat next to their captor, the whumper's hand heavy on their knee as a reminder to stay quiet. the whumpee stares helplessly at the officer checking the car's registration, handing it back to the whumper with a smile and bidding them both a good day and a warning to go a little slower next time. there's triumph in the whumper's responding laugh, and the whumpee's heart sinks into their stomach as their potential savior walks away.

trying to slide their way out between two cars nearly crushing them, feeling the metal of the first car's bumper and the second car's license plate scraping and tearing into their skin with every little sidle.

a vital limb pinned down by crunched-up metal, the impact harsh enough to break bone. even if they wanted to move, they couldn't either way, trapped in by the wreckage and the intensity of their pain both.

a car sinking beneath the water, a whumpee's desperate struggle to try and shatter a window to escape. they bang their hand onto the glass until it's bruised, taking in a last-ditch lungful of air before they're completely submerged. finally, they find something sturdy enough to break the glass, but they have to pull themselves through the mangled window. every shard of glass that digs in or slices them brings a gasp of pain, and every gasp threatens the very little oxygen they have left.

a fever-ridden head pressed against the rain-cooled window, the passing streetlights and zooming cars a blur as the whumpee fades in and out.

trying to use anything and everything to keep the blood off the linen seats — the car's an antique, a rental, a friend's. if there was any other option, they wouldn't be in it at all... but there isn't. all they can do is smear more and more blood on their clothes, their blankets, even their bag in an utterly desperate and mispriortizing attempt to keep the car itself clean.

weaving through traffic with eyes on the rearview mirror, looking for the headlights of the car that's been following them for far too long. it's still there, even as they make a risky merge off the highway. it's still there, even as they make too many right turns through an unassuming neighborhood. it's still there, even as they run a red light to try and finally ditch them. relief floods their body as the tailing car stops, then there's a sickening, screeching crunch of metal on metal, and darkness.

rushing home after a bad date and an even worse dinner, struggling to focus on driving while working their throat hopelessly to keep their food from coming up again. their friend's voice drones on and on, blurring in the background as they lose the battle against their illness just as they pull into their residence.

a caretaker trying to hold a whumpee in place as the car swerves and weaves frantically towards the hospital. every sharp turn aggravates their condition, and the caretaker's voice is nearing overwork from the constant, reassuring whispers towards whumpee and the stern warnings towards the driver.

getting into a car after a party, stumbling into the arms of the all-too-eager-to-help driver. at the time, they think nothing of it, letting themselves lounge in the haze of a wild night out... but wait. they don't know this person well enough to get into their car like this. ... they didn't have that many drinks... this isn't their neighborhood... when they try to express this, their words slur to the point that the driver can't — or won't — understand them, and as their consciousness fades, the realization hits. that's not their friend's voice... it's whumper's.

[aswallowimprisoned]

Day 6 - Doctor becomes Patient

Medic Brunel is attacked by a mermaid, but a familiar face comes to his aid.

Tw bloodloss, medical whump, injury, fainting/unconscious, threat, Dead Dove Jewish vampiric whumpee , religious whumpee, post-captivity, caretaker turned whumpee, whumpee turned caretaker, ex reluctant whumper, gun. Um… spitting on dying people

Masterlist

≪ °❈° ≫

Set way after Restless far from a Wine Dark sea, and may not be canon 

RestlessffaWDs' timeline is going off piste for @medwhumpmay

Thanks for proofreading Ace :)

≪ °❈° ≫

There were teeth at his neck, ripping, blood spurting from his neck onto his army medic’s uniform.

Ivan Brunel knew this was probably the end for him.

It was almost funny; how many times had he avoided being bitten by his patients at the mer containment facility, just to have his throat ripped out on the street? 

Ivan tried to push the mermaid off him, but the mer venom made him too weak, her grip too strong. The world started to fuzz…

BANG!

At the sound of a gunshot the mermaid released him and he fell to the floor. BANG! He heard her body hit the ground next to his own prone form.

Now he was on the floor bleeding out, the oxygen tank strapped to his back propping him sideways at a strange angle. He managed to bring his hand up to his neck to try and stem the bleeding, but his grip was weak against the blood slicked flesh. Footsteps hurried towards him.

“Oh.” The voice was vaguely familiar. Ivan opened his eyes to see his ex-captive hovering over him, a handgun dangling from his fingers and a haunted expression.“Hello Nurse Brunel.” 

It was Nathaniel Fogal.

Fogal dropped to his knees next to him, put his hands around Ivan’s neck and squeezed.

Ivan closed his eyes and let out a shuddering breath. It hurt, it hurt like hell, pressure into the gaping wound in his neck...

The hands did not squeeze tighter.

“...Am I doing this right?” Nathaniel asked cautiously, “I know I am meant to put pressure on wounds, but I haven’t done it to someone’s neck before…”

Ivan opened his eyes to look at him.

“...Yes…” he rasped out. Fogal gave him a small smile. 

“I wasn’t expecting to see you…out. On the street-medicine kind of things.” Fogal was awkward, his hands clamped around his ex-nurse’s bleeding neck. Fogal’s blue eyes were staring down at him, the reverse of when they were doctor and patient. The merman sniffed the air.

“You are, you are losing a lot of blood, Brunel…” The merman sounded vaguely disappointed. The world fuzzed around Ivan. “I need to stop the bleeding…”

“I have a… radio. I need you to… call for help.”

“I can’t risk being captured again, I can't,” Nathaniel whispered, “If I leave you, you will die. I don’t want you to die, but I can help you. I can help you.”

The slightest relief that Fogal wasn’t going to leave Ivan to die ricocheted through his tired skull, and he felt himself lurch towards unconsciousness.

No, he couldn’t go to sleep…

“Brunel? I am going to spit on you.” Fogal’s words woke him up.

“Whaaa?” Ivan questioned before his brain caught up with him. The vampiric mercreatures had remained undetected for centuries due to their ability to heal their victims after biting them. Not that the mermaid who had bit him had any intention of leaving him alive given the size of the hole she had ripped in his neck.

“It’ll help.” Fogal worked his mouth for a moment, before leaning in close, taking his hands away from the gaping wound.

Ivan shook gently with fear as the predator’s hot saliva ran into his neck. He screwed his eyes shut and hoped Fogal wouldn’t take it personally. How many times had Ivan held the vulnerable merman through drugged hazes knowing that Fogal feared the doctors around him? The least Ivan could do would be to let Nathaniel care for him in return.

The healing saliva tingled in his skin, knitting veins and capillaries back together.

Nathaniel Fogal leaned back from him, placing his hands back on Ivan’s neck.

“It won’t fix it completely, but it’ll help. She was trying to kill you.”

The world was still foggy and Ivan was getting cold, the tips of his fingers numb.

“I am still going into hypovolemic shock.” He informed the merman.

“I…don’t know what that is…can I… what do you need?” Fogal looked around, “You… there’s a big bag it looks like you dropped. Is there anything in there that’ll help?”

Blood loss treatment.

“Yes.” Ivan breathed, “You need to keep pressure on the wound but… I need oxygen. There is a mask attached to the tank on my back. Take the plastic wrapper off… and…” he tried to catch his breath for a moment while Fogal reached a bloodstained hand over his shoulder to fumble for the mask and tore the plastic off with his teeth. Ivan would usually wince at the unsanitary action, but considering he had just been magically spat-on he could hardly complain.

“I remember these things.” Fogal looked at the mask, “It hooks over your ears, right?”

“Yeah…” Ivan used one hand to clumsily help manoeuvre the elastic around one ear while Nathaniel pulled the loop over the other ear, pulling the mask tight against his face “... there is a knob at the top of the tank. You need to turn it to turn on the gas…” The woosh of O2 was glorious, and Ivan dragged deeply on the mask. 

He was getting really sleepy. The world was swirling, hazed around the edges now the initial adrenalin spike was fading.

“What’s next?” Fogal asked, “I can reach your bag if there is anything useful in it?”

The bag. Gauze to stem the bleeding next? Neck wounds were awful to bandage. Or a saline drip to start replacing the fluid before he went into further hypovolemic shock? It was deeply unlikely Fogal would be able to place an IV. All Ivan’s training, all the hundreds of times he had treated people, and he could barely muster the brain cells to help himself…

“I…hmm… what do I need?”

“Nurse Brunel, please stay awake, I think you are meant to stay awake…” Nathaniel patted Ivan’s cheek, “Do you… do you not have any drugs that would help? You were always injecting me with stuff…”

“Hmmm, epinephrine. We got these neat small-dose epipens. They’re purple. Epinephrine is a vasoconstrictor, and will prevent the patient’s blood pressure from dropping. Especially if most of the wound has closed…”

“Where is it?” Fogal interrupted him, starting to dump medicines out of Ivan’s paramedic bag. Ivan watched him for a moment, “Brunel, where is the epi-pine or whatever its called?

“It's in my pocket.”

Fogal took only a second to give Ivan an exasperated look, before rooting around in his chest pocket.   

“Blood loss has got you fucked up mate… Is it this?” Fogal held up the little purple cylinder.

“Yes. Take off the blue cap, then you are going to have to let go of my neck long enough to shove the orange end into the side of my thigh. Orange to the side of the thigh, and you are going to have to properly stab me with it to get through my medic uniform.”

“Here goes stabbing…” The warmth of Fogal’s hand left Ivan’s neck, and the needle thudded into his thigh. It hurt, but not as much as it would have if Ivan wasn’t in hypovolemic shock.

“Did it work?” Fogal asked.

“Difficult to sa…” The adrenaline zinged into his bloodstream, and he could practically feel his sluggish heart respond. “Yes. Yep, that worked. But now I think… I think that is all you can do, Nathaniel. Will you let me call for help now?” Ivan asked.

Fogal nodded, and helped Ivan’s numb fingers to hold down the button on his radio.

“This is medic Brunel, requesting assistance, I have been bitten and sustained a 32-Charile with major blood loss. Can you…Help. Please.” Ivan trailed off.  

“We hear you Bruel, is the area you are in safe?”

Ivan looked at Nathaniel, “Yeah.” He breathed, “A civilian helped me…”

“Hold tight Brunel, we’ll be there in 2 minutes. Over.”

“I’ll wait another minute. Then I need to go.”

“Thanks,” He could nearly rest and let someone else take care of him. He focused on breathing deeply into the mask.

Above him, Nathaniel was muttering away under his breath, a familiar cadence Ivan had heard him utter a hundred times before. Was he - was he praying for his ex-captor?

A tear slipped from his eyes. Nathaniel wiped it away with the back of his hand.

“I need to leave. I’m sorry.”

“Thank you Nathaniel. For this.”

“Look after yourself Nurse Brunel.” Nathaniel clasped his arm.

“Ivan. You can call me Ivan.”

Nathaniel snorted a tiny laugh.

“Ivan. Shalom.”

And the merman returned to his freedom.

a/n Hope the name switching isn’t too confusing, but I love the importance of names in whump.

[tildeathiwillwrite]

Moonlight

Whumpril Day 29 (Reluctant Caretaker)

Whumpril Prompts List

part 1

TW: exhaustion, fainting, paranoia, hunted, telepathy, magic whump

Summary: It's been many days since Jin fled the battle field. She attempts to pass through a grove in Moonshadow elf territory and stumbles across something inexplicable.

That's a wrap for Whumpril! I hope you enjoyed my contributions! :D

The moonshadow elf had been following Jin for some time now.

She wasn’t certain how she knew this. It was a full moon, she couldn’t see the elf unless they’d wanted her to. She hadn't heard them, either.

But she knew they were there. She didn’t know how. But she knew.

If Jin had to guess, the elf had started following her when she’d entered the small thicket, after the sun had set below the horizon. She might have trespassed into their territory, but she didn't care. She felt too exposed on the open plains.

Progress was slow, with the trees packed densely together. But the branches almost seemed to part before Jin, allowing themselves to be bent with unnatural flexibility so she could pass. She didn’t try to think about how the trees could be luring her into a trap.

If the elf was out to get her, they would have killed her by now.

But instead, they only watched and followed, nearly invisible from the power of the full moon. It would have been fitting if they did kill her. A moonshadow elf had taken her husband from her. Had taken her king under her watch.

That was in the past. Jin was a deserter now.

Her head snapped to the left, and she barely made out a shape in the darkness as it flitted past, unhindered by the wall of branches. No sound was made. How had she known to look?

Jin almost reached for her ax but decided against it. She had been traveling for days on foot, running on little sleep and the small amount of food she could forage. She was in no fit state for battle, no matter who her opponent would be.

Finally, through the branches, she spied open ground. A clearing? The other side of the forest? The spot where the trap had been laid out for her?

She pressed on. Anywhere was better than the pressing shadows of the trees.

The elf was waiting for her when she emerged from the thicket, spear in hand as they regarded her. Even in their nearly invisible moonshadow form, they appeared masculine, a guarded expression on his face. Behind him was a shrine constructed of white stone gleaming under the moonlight. Two symbols were carved above the gaping doorway. The first was the symbol of the moon arcanum. And the second….

Jin’s mouth went dry. Was that the… dark magic arcanum?!

“Who are you?” The elf asked softly.

Her fingers twitched, eager to hold her ax. Why was the symbol for dark magic on a shrine in Xadia? “I… I’m Jin.”

“Why have you come here?”

Was the ground moving? Why was the ground moving? “I… not… I don’t know.” Overcome by weakness, Jin fell to her knees. “What… what’s happening?”

The elf frowned and turned to face the shrine. “Neoma!”

Jin’s skin prickled as a faint reply echoed inside her head, the words incomprehensible. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to control her breathing as she struggled to stay conscious.

The elf sighed heavily. “Fine.”

A hand touched her shoulder. “Stop fighting,” he said softly. “You’re safe here.”

“N-no… I can’t… she’ll do horrible things…”

“Neoma won’t let her. It’ll be alright.”

Jin slowly nodded as she slumped. The ground was cool under her cheek. A small part of her, even as she slipped into the darkness, tried to protest. This isn’t right. Too tired too quickly. What if…

That, too, quickly faded away into oblivion.

@fourwingedsnake @whumperofworlds @pigeonwhumps @whumpril

[whump-4-ever]

Here’s just a little something I wrote with my OC Kyrin and his girlfriend Natalie. (If you would like to use this as a whump prompt, Kyrin is the Whumpee and Natalie is the Caretaker.) Since this prompt may have triggers (listed below) for certain people, I have put the cut right before the part where Kyrin has the seizure

-

Fever Prompt/Illness Prompt/Sickfic Prompt #1

[‼️] Possible TW/CW: illness, convulsive seizure (fever-induced)

-

Kyrin lay on the bed on his side, curled up into a tight ball as violent, unforgiving fever chills assaulted his body, his muscles spasming beneath fever-flushed skin in silent protest against the disease tormenting his weakened immune system. He let out a groan of agony at the aches and pains that throbbed with each and every shiver, sliding his feet against the sheets. His suffering was as noticeable as fresh blood in the snow, but in the midst of the fever-induced delirium, he hadn’t even realized he was awake; he didn’t acknowledge his girlfriend’s presence either when she spoke, nor had he given any signs that he knew she had been right there with him the whole time, ever since the moment he stumbled into the cabin at around two o’clock that morning and collapsed right into Natalie’s arms.

-

“Hey, hey, hey,” Natalie whispered, instantly seeing that Kyrin had drifted into a state of semi-consciousness. She quickly stood from the chair she sat in, placed only a few feet from the bed, and leaned over him, caressing his sweat-slicked cheek with a warm, loving palm. “Shhh…… It’s okay, sweetheart. You’re okay,” She murmured as she ran her thumb over Kyrin’s cheekbone a couple times before laying her hand on his forehead, ever so carefully brushing back his sweat-soaked hair.

-

Kyrin peeled his sticky eyelids apart to reveal glassy, bloodshot eyes. “…..hnnnggg….” He groaned. His gaze slowly but surely locked onto Natalie’s. Immediately upon seeing him watching her, relief crashed down on her at the realization that he had heard her. This was the first time he’d showed any signs of awareness since his very dramatic entrance at 2 o’clock that morning, and it was a good sign.

-

Kyrin parted his lips just the slightest bit, his intent obvious in the way his jaw trembled, but no sounds came out. He shifted just slightly in frustration, not understanding what was going on and why it was so hard to speak.

-

“You’re okay,” Natalie repeated, still stroking his forehead in hopes that would keep him calm. There was a soft smile plastered on her face, seemingly a result of the relief she’d just felt, but really it was only there to stop Kyrin from panicking, not because she was happy, because she wasn’t. She was still relieved to see him conscious and aware, of course, but worry for his well-being had been welling up in her chest for awhile now, and seeing him struggling so much just to form words had only intensified that worry. It didn’t help that the amount of heat radiating off of him was much more than what was considered normal, even for a fever.

-

She drew in a deep breath, attempting to hold back the surge of panic that threatened to overcome her, lying there in the pit of her stomach, just waiting to attack, like a snake preparing to strike its prey. “Y-You have a fever, baby,” Natalie told him softly, trying to keep her voice from shaking.

Kyrin, though he’d made eye contact with her just seconds ago, did not acknowledge her words that time. Instead, his eyes very sluggishly shifted to the side until he was staring off into the distance, the expression on his face now blank.

-

“Kyrin?” Natalie’s heart leapt into her throat, and that panic in her stomach took its chance to claw its way up to her heart and wrap its cold, merciless fingers around it, squeezing it tightly and sending tendrils of pain all throughout her chest. “H-Hey,” Natalie stammered. She gulped in fear before carefully cupping Kyrin’s cheeks with both hands, gently jostling his head in an attempt to elicit a response. Nothing. He didn’t even blink. “Kyrin?” She rubbed her thumb along his cheekbone like she had earlier, silently begging him to answer, but he didn’t.

-

It was only moments later when Kyrin’s eyes suddenly rolled up into the back of his skull. His body went stiff at the same time, and a low groaning sound rumbled deep in the back of his throat. Then the convulsions started. Soft, breathy grunting noises puffed out of the young man’s partially open mouth as his entire frame jerked around violently. He was in the midst of a full-blown seizure now.

-

“Oh, God,” Natalie choked out, feeling sick to her stomach. She already knew what was happening, had recognized the signs of her boyfriend’s fever-induced seizure the second the convulsions began, but it did nothing to quell the nausea.

-

Despite just barely keeping her emotions in check, she leapt into action, quickly assessing the situation and coming to the concluding that, since Kyrin was already on his side, not much could be done until the seizure was over, but she did what she could. She grasped his shoulder with one hand and his forearm with the other, her grip on both not nearly tight enough to restrain him or restrict his movements but rather a precaution, to ensure he wouldn’t fall off the bed and injure himself.

-

It felt like everything was happening in slow motion, as if hours upon hours were passing by when in reality it had only been around forty three seconds. “C’mon, Kyrin,” Natalie muttered, biting her bottom lip when she noticed foamy saliva bubbling up in her boyfriend’s mouth.

-

As if in response, Kyrin let out a few breathless grunting noises, his inhales nothing more than quick, shallow gasping noises, soft wheezing sounds accompanying each one. “Shhhhh….” She hushed him, doing her best to comfort him even in his state of unconsciousness.

-

After around two and a half minutes or so, the convulsions started to die down, gradually going from violent jerking movements to a series of light twitching motions until finally stopping altogether, Kyrin’s body going still under Natalie’s hands. “You’re alright,” She whispered. She then very carefully maneuvered her boyfriend’s limp, floppy form into the recovery position, making sure to rest his head at an angle that would help him breathe. Once that was done, she pulled the previously-discarded chair up to the side of the bed and took a seat, running her fingers through Kyrin’s hair. “It’s gonna be alright.”

[rainysflowers]

Tosses this out into the eather for the most niche audience I could think of. *NYEAH!!*

After seeing the lovely @species-whump-weekly and waiting excitedly for their Demon prompt list for the purposes of using them against my favorite Mazoku, I decided that it would be fun to do something similar. Therefore, I'd like to offer to you, the whump and Slayers community...

Mazoku Whump Week!!

This is the perfect opportunity to take your beloved Mazoku, be them canon or original, and beat them up (maybe comfort them too) for the world to see! What fun ^^ If this does interest you, please look under the cut for more info and prompts!! If not, then have a lovely day!!

CWs/TWS: Themes of Hurt/Pain, Dehumanization of Non-Humans, Neglect, and Similar Content

ALSO I feel that upon farther community interaction that I should mention to PLEASE write out/tag your entries with content & trigger warnings and the characters involved as to not offend/trigger anyone who may come across it without interest in said character/content!!

Personally, I like to give a general overview of what content is in the media much like my CWs/TWs above, then also add on SPESIFIC tags for worse things like Major Character Death, and finally PLEASE SPESIFY which character you'll be hurting in the media!!

Now, I call it a week because that's the way i formatted it, but there's no timeframe and there's no start date. I just made it for fun and my own enjoyment ^^ All I ask is that you please tag me in whatever you choose to create [Writing, art, GIFs, ect]:)) You totally don't have to be a part of either community to participate, I just made this for Slayers fans specifically because I love that anime <3 They are also more so anime-based, than light novel-based, as a side note.

Prompts are formatted as a single master-prompt, something that sets the theme for the sub-prompts under it, and three sub-prompts that you can write one, two, or all three of!! There are also seven alternative prompts that follow the same general theme of the master-prompts (I.E. alternative prompt one (1) has the same theme as master-prompt one (1) and so forth). !!! Two alternative prompts are based on my personal headcannons, but those are labeled as such, and do not have to be used !!!

Here is the prompt list:

01) Summoned.

1] I’ll Treat You Like My Pet/Dehumanization

2] Defiance/Defiant Whumpee* (*Whumpee refers to the character who is in pain, which is in this case the Mazoku of your choice)

3] Terms and Conditions

02) Used.

1] Losing Control

2] Astral Wound/Pain

3] Magical Exhaustion

03) Misunderstood.

1] Kindness Makes the World Go Round

2] Starvation

3] Botched Shapeshifting

04) Betrayed.

1] Backstabbed

2] Found Out

3] Ritual Sacrifice

05) Returned.

1] Uncaring Master

2] Can’t Go Back

3] Demonic Punishment

06) Inherited.

1] Immortality

2] Bleeding Black

3] Ingrained Morality

07) History.

1] Scars

2] War Never Changes

3] Falling Comrades

Alternative Prompts

1] Orihalcon Restraints/Weapons (Based on a headcanon where the metal Orihalcon is able to suppress the Mazoku's ability to either return to the Astral Plane or negates their ability to be impervious to physical wounds in the real world.)

2] Reluctant Caretaker

3] Presumed Dead (Based on a headcanon where if a Mazoku is injured enough, they must ditch their assumed form to return to the Astral Plane, leaving them looking like a corpse in the Human World.)

4] “I can’t believe I trusted you.”

5] Assassination (Attempts)

6] “I thought that you couldn’t love?”

7] Survivor’s Guilt

Here is the Prompt List in a Google Doc:

Thank you so much for checking out this post, sorry for the crappiness lol, I just wanted to share some stuff. Ill be back sooner or later, and if you have any questions, please send them on in ^^ luv yall with the strength of a thousand suns <3 Have a good day, night, and whatever else!!

[surplus-of-sarcasm]

Midnight

Notes: Sorry for the lack of updates. High school, my beloathed. Anyway, this is from my phone's notes, some of y'all alr read it from the gc, but here it is for those who haven't!

TW: Non-con drugging, blood mention, yandere whumper, implied touch-starvation

Everything. They could hear everything, from the careful, light patter of their bare feet on the cold ceramic, the air flowing in from the little crack in the wall, and their own erratic breathing.

They can barely see, but they've been in this damned mansion long enough to know every seemingly inconsequential detail of it by heart. They make their way almost mechanically around the place, but in a speed that would normally frustrate them, a necessary precaution.

They can't help but take one too many fleeting glances behind them, flinching at any little noise or movement of the shadows. Their heart felt like it was in their knees, beating at a speed they never knew it was capable of.

Their grip tightens on the pair of sneakers clutched in their left hand, never mind that it was 'a gift' from Whumper. Survival outweighed pride here. They have to do this, it's their only chance. The sweet, seemingly treacherous promise of freedom is the only thing that helps calm their nerves, stops them from falling in an unconscious heap on the floor after being paralysed with fear.

They finally make it to the door, feeling the rush of adrenaline course through their veins as they unlock it, the sweet taste of the midnight air on their tongue, its coolness feeling great on their burning face, the all-encompassing euphoria of freedom pulsing through them like a chemical injected swiftly into their veins. . .

Oh so beautiful, oh so short-lived. They feel a steady grip around their form, neither harsh nor painful, but firm and impossible to break out of.

Whumper lets out an amused chuckle which sends shivers down Whumpee's spine. They feel the heat radiating of their captor's sleep-warm form, not that it brings them any comfort.

"Tsk tsk, is this what we agreed upon, Whumpee? I thought you knew better than to make such a mistake. And after all I've done for you," they breathe out, mock-wistfulness lining their tone.

Whumpee's heart rate accelerates, and their whole body stiffens up in mere moments. "Oh, relax, will you?" Whumper kneads out the tension in their muscles with one hand, the other still keeping its death grip on them. They despise how their shoulders sag, how soothing the touch feels, how their body betrays them.

"Y-you h-hurt me," they stammer, furiously blinking away the tears forming on the tips of their lashes.

"I only do that when you misbehave, Whumpee," they half-growl through gritted teeth, now digging their nails into the skin, drawing blood, and it was their luck that Whumper liked to keep theirs long, and they let out a wince. At that, Whumper smirks, resuming the careful rubbing of Whumpee's back again. "How else will you learn? Rules don't stick without consequences."

Whumpee let out a strangled cry they fail to completely muffle. "Shhhh," Whumper soothes.

They produce a syringe from their pocket, filled with a strange, blue liquid. Whumpee's emerald eyes widen like saucers, and they feel their breathing hitch, and a soft whine escapes their lips.

Whumper only lets out a soft laugh, shaking their head. They inject the azure contents of the syringe straight into the now-sobbing Whumpee's bloodstream. The needle hurts like hell, and they're engulfed by a consuming dizziness as the world around them dissolved into pitch black darkness.

They wake up in their room to a hand running through their hair and a warm smile. "Care-Caretaker?" they half-yawn, voice still hoarse from sleep.

The shrill cackle, the ever-so-subtle tightening of the grip on their hair and the "No, sweetheart," provide more than enough in terms of an answer to their question."

✨️Le Taglist: @larinzz @syberianjade @lateuplight @altu-whump @enbious-prince @astr0-mj @thelazywitchphotographer @addictedsandwhichaki @justalittlecorrupted @quaggasus @dodo-docs @vernilliom @sirrsnakesssss @starssabove

Wanna be on the taglist? This'll take you there!