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jordanstrophe · 1 year

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Hidden injuries with protective caretakers:

Whumpee hides illnesses, injuries, names of people who hurt them. But not because they’re worried about what caretaker will think-

-But worried about what caretaker will do. They'll hunt the people who hurt them, burn buildings for them, kill for them. Whumpee doesn’t want anyone else getting hurt.

Anyone else but themselves.

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snzymae · 6 months

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“I’m fine, really.”

“Well between you and the thermometer, which one is the more credible source?”

#caretaking #I’m in my adventure romance obsession phase #fever

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digenerate-trash · 5 months

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Yan! Bailey reacting to you going missing? TIA.

(Finally someone who's down for Bailey!!! Welcome to the fucked corner bro!!)

You had been missing before. Long stretches. Days. Sometimes weeks without a word from you but had been a while since you went completely off the grid. Usually, he keeps a good tab on you. Nothing too serious. Just a few guards to make sure you don't get into trouble. And if you do they can always call Bailey to bail you out.

But this time you've completely slipped your detail and run off somewhere. You weren't supposed to be able to do that... but you were just... gone.

Bailey had spent no less than four days turning this little town upside down. He interrogated everyone he could think of but no one had even seen you. Even the shadiest of freaks had no clue where you went. And that's when Bailey started to worry.

Bailey hadn't been able to eat or sleep or even look at your door some days. The padlock lays on his desk open and scratched. He's itching to use it again. Once you're home. Once you are safe he's going to keep you there. Locked away. Maybe even install some bars on your windows just so you can't get away again. He's not sure how you escaped but he's going to make it so it doesn't happen again.

His fingers drum against the desk as he glares at the empty chair in front of him. The one you constantly pick at the one you dread being in. He knows You hate being in Bailey's office in his presence talking with him. But you knew you could never truly be rid of him. You knew, so why would you run? Why would you ever want to be away from his grasp? Why?

Bailey could think of a handful of reasons The resentment that you've built up for him over the years had probably been eating at you. The tight leash he kept on you was probably suffocating. The rough way he handled you leaving you bruised and sore and marked probably made you sick when you looked in the mirror. The obvious attention that you got made the other orphans isolate you and he reveled in that isolation. And that was just the suffice of why you might not want to be here...

bailey's eyes narrowed again before he looked up at his ancient computer.

One new email: "Please come get me."

#tw obsession #bailey the caretaker #yan dol #yandere #tw yandere #yandere tropes #x reader #gn reader

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wynandcore · 9 months

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When the small village of Argon gets taken over by a mafia led by a man simply known as CLU, a fire of rebellion sparks in the young horse caretaker Beck.

Angry due to the murder of his friend at the hands of CLU’s cabalb, Beck melts the head of the new bronze statue instated to show CLU’s reign, and rides away into the sunset to get away from CLU’s goons.

After failing to jump a train, a mysterious cowboy corners him and knocks him out. The man interrogates him, only to reveal himself to be Tron, a previously well-known cowboy who fought for the people wherever he went, before disappearing into thin air when he opposed CLU.

Turns out Tron needs someone to carry on his title.

Bascially an excuse to draw Tron talking about horses in true Bruce fashion

#tron uprising #tron #tron au #I’ve been informed someone else talked about a cowboy au in the tags before but just know none of this is about their au #I’ve been thinking about a cowboy au for a while before this and have shown it on my Insta #so all of this is my own au! :]#tronblr #i ramble #beck tron uprising #tron uprising beck #tron beck #tron legacy #obsessed with Beck being a horse caretaker.#horses would be the equivalent of light cycles so it’d make sense #art tag

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ccieatchildren · 9 days

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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…

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.

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suspensefulpen · 4 months

Text

Whumpcember Day 21: Choking

TW: Choking, Bad Caretaker

@whumpcember

Whumpee flinched and whimpered in pain as Caretaker cleaned the fresh open wounds across their body. “Caretaker, I—”

“No. I don’t want to hear it.” She frowned. She wiped the last wound and discarded the cotton ball in the small bin next to her. She grabbed a new cotton ball and put ointment over it as she shook her head. “I’m sick of hearing it.”

“Caretaker, I swear—”

“Just stop it Whumpee. Your lies and excuses aren’t doing anything.” She glared at them and began rubbing the ointment over their wounds. “You’re hurting yourself and you’re trying to say Whumper is hurting you. And I know he’s not. When will you ever stop lying? Whumper would never hurt anyone.”

“But—”

“Enough.” Caretaker stopped applying the ointment and stood from her spot in front of the sofa. Seeing the pure fury in her eyes made Whumpee shrink back into the cushions of the seat. “Enough with the excuses Whumpee. No matter how much you try to twist it and say he’s hurting you, I’m not going to believe you. So stop lying and trying to make me stop being with Whumper because it’s not going to happen.”

Tears filled Whumpee’s eyes as Caretaker picked up all of the medical supplies and the small bin. They watched nervously as she left the room, almost stomping. Caretaker had never been this angry with them before. She didn’t even bother leaving any bandages. What if she eventually kicked them out? Then what? What if they ended up dying at the hands of her beloved Whumper? Would she believe them then? Would she ever believe them? What if she started to hate Whumpee?

“What a shame.”

They raised their gaze and found Whumper leaning against the doorway. He seemed completely relaxed, his hands in his pockets and even a small smile on his face.

“Seven months ago, I thought you and Caretaker were like this.” He crossed his middle finger over his pointer finger. “But now, you’ve completely lost her trust. You’re lying to her, you’re hurting yourself, you’re doing everything you can to get rid of me. And yet, you’re failing miserably.”

“I’m not lying and we both know that.” Whumpee frowned.

“You are lying. You know you are.” Whumper stepped forward. Whumpee began scooting backwards, hoping they’d go through the sofa so they could turn and run away. They quickly realized this wasn’t going to happen when Whumper crouched down in the same spot Caretaker had just been in. He lowered his voice, his eerie smile still present. “You know, Caretaker told me she felt like you didn’t want her to be happy. So you’re doing everything you can to get me out of the picture. And she’s seeing right through it.”

Whumpee’s tears began to flow down their cheeks. Caretaker really felt like that? She felt like Whumpee didn’t want her to be happy? She genuinely believed that? How could Whumpee do such a thing? Wait…but it wasn’t their fault. They aren’t the ones inflicting the wounds onto themself. It was Whumper.

Whumpee frowned in spite of their tears. “You’re lying! She didn’t say that!”

“Am I? Would you like evidence for proof that I’m not?” Whumper reached in his pocket and pulled out his phone. He scrolled through it for a moment before showing Whumpee a video.

Caretaker and Whumper were in the kitchen. Their backs were turned to the camera as they stood at the marble island.

“I just feel like…they don’t want me to be with you. Like they hate you. Or…they just don’t want me to be happy with you.” Caretaker’s voice cracked. “And they know how hard everything has been for me lately… It’s like they want me to revolve everything around them…”

Whumper stepped closer and wrapped his arms around her as she began to sob into his chest. “It’s okay. They’re probably just jealous. But I understand, you feel like it’s hard to get away from the pain and they’re not making it any better. Healing takes a while, and they might not understand that, but I do. I’ll always be here when you need me.”

“Thank you Whumper…” She sniffed.

Whumpee sat frozen as many emotions filled their mind. Shock, guilt, sadness. How could they do such a thing? How could they make Caretaker feel like they didn’t want her to be happy?

“That wasn’t even the full conversation.”

“There’s more?!” Whumpee asked, horrified.

“Of course there’s more. There’s always more.” Whumper smirked. “Not to mention, this was months ago.”

“Months?!”

“Months of you continuously making the one person you had left think you don’t want good things for them. I’ve warned you once Whumpee, don’t let me have to warn you again.” He leaned close to their ear, lowering his voice to a whisper. “You keep this up and I just might have you disappear one day. Even Caretaker won’t bother to look for you. I’ll make sure she’s angry with you so she’ll stop caring and eventually put you out. By that point, she won’t give you a second thought. And Caretaker will be mine and mine only.”

Whumper took Whumpee’s hands and wrapped them around their throat, stopping any oxygen from flowing into their lungs. Whumpee began squirming to remove their hands. But with Whumper holding them down so tightly, they couldn’t move at all. They did everything they could to get even the slightest bit of oxygen but they couldn’t. They were uselessly gasping for air. The more they struggled, the weaker they felt. They began to see black spots at the edges of their vision as Whumper began whispering again.

“Stay the hell out of my way.”

#whumpcember2023 #whumpcember #whump #whump writing #bad caretaker #angst #suspense #creepy whumper #possessive whumper #obsessive whumper #caretaker x whumper #whumper x caretaker #emotional whump #creative writing #writeblr #writer things #writers on tumblr

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serialmilipede · 3 months

Text

caretaker-to-whumper but it's because they capture the whumper who hurt the whumpee they've been taking care of for months.

at first the torture stems from a desire for retribution. whumpee is absolutely lovely and should never have been hurt like that. but then... it develops into a sort of game. pleasure curls in caretaker's belly when they sink the knife in just right, press a bruise just hard enough, scratch their nails along whumper's back, bite them, choke them, slap them, berate them-- when they make whumper scream out for mercy. it's so satisfying, addictive. the hours caretaker spends in the basement hurting whumper grow longer and longer as the weeks progress.

whumpee doesn't know, of course. but there's a noticeable shift in caretaker. the way they care for whumpee becomes tinged with passive disinterest. of course caretaker still cooks, cleans, tends to whumpee's wounds, peppers them with kisses and words of reassurance. but they don't sleep next to whumpee anymore. don't cuddle them and kiss their forehead until their breathing evens out. now, caretaker turns on the nightlight and leaves. they don't come back until the early hours of the morning.

caretaker tries to be present, but everything is blurry and out of focus. their mind is consumed by their pet.

#whump writing #bing's belongings #whump #whumpee #whumper #whump scenario #caretaker turned whumper #caretaker #pet whump #tw knife #tw torture #tw kidnapping #tw violence #tw obsession #bingbing writes

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windwenn · 2 months

Text

The implications of that scene where olruggio makes sure qifrey gets a warmstone are just. Theyre just so. The gentle way they spesk to each other. The visible shock on qifrey's face when he realises that its for him. The way you can SEE how important it is to him that someone would look out for him the same way he is constantly looking out for his students. Olruggio deflecting slightly to make it sound like no big deal, demanding neither thanks nor explanation for why qifrey isnt sleeping. Even the way olruggio throughout the entire scene is picking up all the books that had fallen onto the floor thus saving qifrey the effort

#im a little obsessed with olruggio #shirahama does such an amazing job of letting his gentler character shine through his actions #rather than just explaining him immediately #ramblings #witch hat atelier #just something about qifrey being a caretaker but also having that person to take care of him in turn is making me a little crazy #pristine support system in this atelier #cant wait for it to inevitably go to shit

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jordanstrophe · 2 years

Text

Caretaker is obsessed with whumpee’s well-being. They spend hours getting them to eat, perfecting their tea, lulling them to sleep every night.

-But as soon as someone walks in a little too loudly, they get mouthed "if you wake them, I will kill you"

#whump #whump prompts #caretaking prompts #comfort whump #hurt comfort #recovery prompts #protective caretaker #obsessed caretaker #whump humor #whumplr #caretaker #caretaking #whump fluff

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clone-bar-79s · 3 months

Text

Sekiro does female characters the way I wish most franchises dealt with women. Sekiro remembers that women actually make up half of human population and are fully fledged human beings. The corrupted monk, O’rin of the water, Emma, the Divine Child, Snake Eyes Shirahagi and Shirafuji, and the Okami warriors are so seamlessly integrated into the story and at no point does their sex matter. Even the lore includes them in so well, for instance Tomoe and the Sculptor’s girl, Kingfisher are so intriguing and this is how I feel women need to exist in stories. Like they belong there

#I know the main storyline is almost free of women unless u include Emma #and she also takes on the caretaker role that most women are given #but I still think that so many villains being women is just wonderful #and the fact that O’rin is the only one you can tell just by looking is a woman means so much to me #sekiro #I’m so obsessed with this game right now

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honeycollectswhump · 1 month

Text

Whump Prompt

Caretaker is obsessive about a recovering Whumpee, to the point that it makes them physically uncomfortable and seize up whenever Whumpee gets close with other people. But Caretaker really cares about Whumpee so they try their hardest to not let this actually influence Whumpee’s recovery and connections.

Do they succeed? Does Whumpee ever notice Caretaker’s inner struggle? Does it create a rift in their friendship, making Caretaker distance themselves from the unknowing Whumpee, before they hurt them?

Does Caretaker snap and become a restricting Whumper to their friend?

#yes this is about my disorders #but i’m being so brave about it #i don’t want to impact my friends ever but god sometimes it makes me want to cry #and there’s nothing i can do about it because anything else would be Extremely Toxic #i guess i’m heading towards a low again and that’s not even something meds can fully prevent #obsessive caretaker #caretaker turned whumper #recovering whumpee #mental illness whump #whump prompt #whumpee and caretaker #honey's writing

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painsandconfusion · 1 year

Note

yoo can u write more yandere whumper? i love the way u write

dang, you guys liked that one huh? sure kids, here ya go

Fix You

[Part One Here]

(tw: forced feeding, yandere, stalking, kidnapping, manhandling, intimate whumper, burning, unhealthy fasting)

“I’m not eating until you do.”

Whumpee eyes Whumper warily, dull, silicone spoon resting heavy in their trembling hands. They let their eyes slide back down to the soup in front of them. Tomato. Grilled cheese next to it. Their favorite artisanal bread. Never before has the worlds simplest meal looked so fucking fancy.

“Not hungry,” they deadpan.

Whumper sighs, leaning back in their chair. “You haven’t eaten in over a day. You need sustenance.”

Whumpee’s eyes flick back up - harder now. “I said I’m not hungry - would you just back off??”

Whumper doesn’t flicker. Doesn’t move in the slightest. They just sit in still silence, same gentle eyes roaming over Whumpee. “I can’t do that, Whumpee.”

Whumpee’s jaw sets. They look away.

“Come on - I made your favorite.

“It’s not my favorite.”

“It is,” they posit gently. “You were just forced to choose a more refined answer to that question for so long. When you’re unhappy - this is what you want.”

Tears are burning at the backs of their eyes again as they shift their gaze further away - down and to the side. Hardwood floor. If their feet weren’t shackled down, they could make a break for it…

“Please, Whumpee. Do it for me?”

Their hand is scalding before they even register it moving. Soup splattering through the air and slopping onto the ground. Red stains the table and up their arm. “I SAID NO!”

Whumpee immediately snaps their jaw shut, melting back into their chair. Small. Regret washes through them, tailed loosely by cool, curling fear.

What Whumper might do for them lashing out. The scolding they’d get even from their parents for something like that - let alone a kidnapper.

But Whumper doesn’t flinch - barely even blinks. Even as the burnt orange splatters up their shirt. “..Whumpee, I-” Their eyes lock onto the soup on Whumpee’s hand. “Oh no- are you okay - is that burning you-?” before their sentence is finished, they’re already up and bounding across the kitchen. In moments, they’re kneeling at Whumpee’s side, not seeming to care about the soup that’s soaking into their jeans.

Whumpee rips their arm out of the way as Whumper reaches for it. “What are y- don’t - don’t TOUCH me-”

Whumper winces, shrinking a little. “I’m just trying to h-”

“WELL STOP HELPING.” Their voice cracks, the tears choking it down to nothing.

There’s a beat of silence, then Whumper rises smoothly. Something in their face hardens. “I’m not going to do that - I’ll never stop helping you.” They snatch Whumpee’s wrist, wrenching it toward them. They blot the cold towel over the light burn.

Whumpee bares their teeth, struggling in Whumper’s grip. “Ss-stop! Lemme go! Lemmego!”

Whumper’s jaw’s set as they scrub away the soup, gentleness starting to wear away with each pass of the towel. “Know what I think?” They step behind Whumpee’s chair, grabbing their other arm too.

Whumpee struggles against them, thrashing in the grip and against the metal around their ankles until it bruises deep against bone. “S-stop! Stop let GO-”

“I think,” Whumper continues, twisting both arms back behind the chair. “That you just aren’t used to this - you’re not used to someone actually caring.”

They wrist and writhe, but can’t break Whumper’s grip. “Wh-what are you talking about???”

The towel shreds in half.

“I think that everyone in your life is so shitty to you that you see something genuinely good as a threat - because that’s the mask they wear to hurt you.”

The towel starts wrapping around their wrists, biting in tight.

“Wh-nngh- stopthathurts-”

Whumper ignores them, tying rough, tight knots. “I think that you need a stronger hand to show you what’s right and wrong.” With one more tug of a knot, Whumpee’s stuck writhing against fabric alone. Whumper’s hands slither up over their shoulders, kneading in.

Lips at their ear have them twitching away, but there’s nowhere to go.

“So you’re going to eat. You’re going to be nice. You’re going to get to know me - and I’ll fix you.” Thumbs grind in - enough to drag a keeing whine from Whumpee’s throat. “Sound good, love?”

Whumpee squirms down, trying to escape the touch that follows them every inch. “Sst-top stop jus-justletme go-”

“No,” Whumper murmurs a kiss to the top of their head and pulls away. They don’t bother cleaning up the mess, they just get a different bowl from the cupboard and ladle a fresh few scoops into it. They prowl back to Whumpee, setting the steaming bowl neatly in front of them. “You need to eat.”

Whumpee glares at the soup, even as a tear trickles off their chin and splatters onto the mess of a table. “..n-no..”

Their scalp burns as Whumper’s fingers twist into it. Their shoulders strain against the sudden angle as their nose crunches against the bottom of the bowl.

Agony explodes around their eyes, fire licking up their cheeks and dripping down their neck. They sputter, thick, splattering air bubbles slopping through the soup as they thrash against Whumper’s hand - desperate to escape the burning.

“Drink.” Whumper grinds them further down against the ceramic. “You can breathe when it’s gone.”

Whumpee sucks in a desperate mouthful, shoving the fire down their throat out of reflex as much as anything - half of it comes sputtering back up the wrong tube. Curling, grinding fear works up their lungs, following the burn as the acid and blood and tears dance across their throat.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart.” There’s another hand in their hair. Soft, gentle fingers contrasting the rough grip of the other. Stroking softly. Dancing through their curls and massaging lightly at the scalp. “I’m gonna fix you.”

(tags: @prisonerwhump @whumpawink @mabledonut @happy-little-sadist @paleassprince @distinctlywhumpthing @wibbly-wobbly-whump @batfacedliar-yetagain @suspicious-whumping-egg @wormwriting @meowsikbox @villainsvictim @throwawaywhumper @wild-selenite-caffine @whumpasaurus101 @thecitythatdoesntsleep @whumpworld @michaeltalks @pinkieglitterheart @whumpberry-cookie @rainbows-and-whumperflies @astralrunic @cursedscribbles @shywhumpauthor @cyberneticwhump @bumpwhump @hold-back-on-the-comfort @veyroswin @whumping-seven-days-a-week @whumpingisfun)

As always, lmk if you want to be added or removed from any tag lists!

#forced feeding #kidnapping #manhandling #intimate whumper #burning #unhealthy fasting #continuation request #yandere #obsessive yandere #stalking #whump drabble #care whumper #bad caretaker

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ashersanity · 4 months

Note

Look, I know that Johan is a red flag made up of other red flags. I know logically that I couldn’t make him better, rather he’d make me dead. But I still want to consensually hold him tightly and tell him that what happened to him wasn’t his fault, that he deserves so much better, that he should be allowed to torture and murder Whitney without any legal repercussions.

YOU CAN’T DO THIS. YOU FUCKING CAN’T JUST LEAVE THIS SHIT IN MY INBOX AND EXPECT ME TO BE NORMAL ABOUT THIS, NOO.

THE ANGST AND THE COMFORT?? FUUUCKKK.

Think the truly sad part about it would be Johan’s reaction to your actions and words, having gone through his whole life, wearing this mask on his face. All smiles, gentle expression on his soft features, dead, hollow eyes that betrays what the truly lies underneath. Would probably stare at you with that exact face for a good few seconds, wondering if you’re actually joking or not, if this is some sort of sick trick to get him to be vulnerable again. Before, well, eventually, those lush pink lips of his, always slightly quirked up to form a smile slowly falters into a straight line, tightly pressed together. He’s not used to receiving such treatment and wouldn’t know how to react, nor would he exactly feel anything either.

Sorry to break it to you guys, he cannot be saved, not after what happened nor can he be redeemed with what he plans on going through with. Like a fallen angel that’s lost his wings long ago, banished to the burning pits of hell or whatever shit, man, I didn’t read the lore. He was fucked up from the start to begin with, just that Whitney hit a string deep within him that shouldn’t have been touched to begin with so now he’s after him.

Random Johan lore below, fucking scroll if uninterested, thanks!

Johan and Whitney actually go a long way back, knew each other as kids, fitted clothes forced onto their smaller frames that barely fit them, stubbed fingers hidden beneath the oversized sleeves. They were not friends, nor were they enemies, they were just sort of.. there. Y’know, crossing each other’s paths at times by pure chance, never really taking a second flitting glance back to look at the other. Well, Whitney did but that’s something for another time.

Johan could be as you call it, a model student, the kid next door that your parents bemoan and complain about how you should be more like him, impossible standards supposed to be met. The kid that everyone can’t help but be drawn to, pretty face and angelic features, scrunch of his cute nose whenever he doesn’t get the texts in the advanced books he reads, whenever someone were to tease him about his appearance, “adorable thing” they’d call it. “Your boy is quite the looker, bet he fetches for a high price.” They tell to Bailey who simply doesn’t respond, too busy, hung up on other things that need taking care of. Basically, a perfect angel. You would’ve never expect anything bad out of him because oh, how could he do any wrong, how could he commit such atrocities such as Whitney?

Whitney, the snotty, noisy brat that’s always out to cause trouble wherever he goes, probably bringing his little gang with him that he’s already formed lmfao. Tanned skin littered in bruises and bloodied cuts from fights, tumbling out on the park’s ground, from being too reckless and impulsive as usual. Overall, he’s a fucking little shit and I wouldn’t be surprised if every adult that came across him were itching to spank that nasty, potty mouth out of him.

Either way, they did know each other in a way. Though there was one thing that Whitney knew about Johan that other kids did not. He is not fucking sane in the head, fucked up little guy. I forgot to talk about his psychotic tendencies, didn’t I? I don’t remember what entirely, but pretty sure killing animals for fun as a kid or at whatever age is a sign of sociopathy or psychopathy. Not sure which, maybe both. Johan did that, did it to satisfy those urges that’d cloud his mind deep in the night, pristine, unblemished skin on his fingers, tainted in the blood and flesh of the animals he’d find in the forest, ripped to shred.

Poor Whitney who just happened to stumble upon him at the worst of times, one eye covered by his fringe as he gazes back at the other’s bloodied hands, dead animals corpses held in the palm of both his hands. Oh. Oops. It’s true, Whitney does do fucked up shit at times like uhhh, bullying other kids and harassing them but nowhere was he at the level of Johan who’d calmly dissect these little critters, peel the flesh off their bones as if it was just an orange.

Long story short, the bully was horrified and probably started a whole rumour about how Johan was some freak who liked to torture animals for fun. Not that he was wrong though who is he to accuse the boy of such things? That’s right, no one believed him in fact. Johan, innocent little Johan that eagerly attends the sermon every Sunday, clasped hands in a prayer, the boy who cheerfully helps everyone out in a time of need. How could he do any wrong?

Surely Whitney was lying.

Surely so.

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