“Remember how we met?” Whumper asked casually, a disgusting smirk on their face that Whumpee hated with every fiber of their being.
“I try not to.” They replied bitterly, blood streaming down their nose.
“It was such a beautiful day. Your partner really put up a fight, didn't they?”
“Did you have to do it?” Whumpee asked distantly, “Did killing them make you feel powerful?”
“It's not about power, darling. It's about letting you know that you have nothing to go back to. Nothing to comfort you. Nothing in life besides you and me. So in that regard, yes, I did have to.”
“You're fucking crazy!” Whumpee yelled in both disbelief and terror, “If you keep doing this you're gonna fucking kill me! I don't have an infinite amount of blood!”
“Oh, you’re fine,” Whumper dismissed. “I've done this plenty of times before, I know when to stop, and you don't need to worry. I only discard my toys when they no longer entertain me, and you just got here.”
Whumpee's adrenaline outweighed their pain, “These wounds are going to get infected!”
“So?”
“So?! Do you know all the things that can happen when wounds get infected?!”
Whumper scoffed, “Of course I know. I've seen it.” They smiled, “It's wonderful.”
The Whumper tilts their head, studying you like they don't understand why you struggle, why you fight against them.
"I love you," they say, smiling. "Don't you know that?"
You flinch. They notice, and slowly walk closer.
"There's nothing I wouldn't do for you."
This time the words come slower. Almost thoughtful. They reach out and tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.
Then their fingers stay there. Press just hard enough that you feel the pad of their thumb against your pulse.
"Nothing," they repeat, quieter. "You get that, right? Nothing."
You swallow hard, and stay still. They're too close, and there's no telling what they might decide to do next.
They smile. Small. Patient.
"I could leave you in the dark for three days straight, because that's how I show love. I could take your food away until your ribs show - because I care. I could break every finger one by one and kiss each one after and still mean it when I say I'd do anything for you."
Their hand slides down to cup your jaw. Not tight. Just holding your face so you have to look at them.
"You're shaking again. Cute."
They lean in until their mouth is next to your ear.
"I'll keep you alive for years like this. Starving. Freezing. Bleeding. Crying. Whatever it takes. Because I love you." A pause. "And because you need to understand you're mine."
They pull back just enough to meet your eyes. You want to scream, to bite, to defend yourself any way you can, but the muzzle on your face prevents you from making a single sound.
"So go ahead. Scratch. Try to run. Bite me if you think it'll help." Their thumb strokes your cheek once. "I'll still be here tomorrow. Feeding you. Putting a blanket over you when you pass out. Telling you I love you while I do it."
They let go. Step back, with a nod, their hands in their pockets.
"See? Nothing I wouldn't do."
Then they turn toward the door.
After they leave, their parting words linger in your head:
"Get some rest, sweetheart. Tomorrow's gonna be long.
The dazed, distant look of an exhausted, drugged Whumpee. As they sway on their feet, their body almost limp. Almost heavy with sleep. They are fighting with everything in them not to fall. Not to fully black out. But it’s getting to be impossible.
Whumper tsks and it sounds both distant, like it’s coming from miles away and very near-like a whisper in Wumpee’s ear. It makes their stomach spin for a moment and they almost heave. But holds steady enough. Their legs wobble. “Now, I don’t believe I said you could stop working, now did it? That won’t due, dear Whumpee. Not one bit.” They hiss.
But Whumpee can hear the pleasure in it. The lust for pain, bubbling beneath their stern tone. And it makes them livid. It makes them want to pull back and slam their fist into Whumper’s face. But their hands are simply limp at their sides. Losing grip of the scrub brush they had been holding.
They stumble back, their body swaying dangerously left, then right, then left again. This time, they tip over and hit the floor hard. Their body failing them, failing to catch them and to mitigate the impact on their shoulder, on their temple. The dizziness intensifies and they shut their eyes. And Whumper just watches. A grin on their face. Ready to bring down the punishment, for poor, useless Whumpee. Who was still trying to open their eyes and lift their head.
Whumpee sitting by a window, looking out at snow-covered slopes. They're being punished for something, or Whumper just forgot to untie them from the night before.
Their paper-thin pajamas do little to protect them from the cold winds that seeps into the floorboards. Plus Whumper un-bottoned their top and pulled it back over their shoulders. During the night, the material shifted down, of course, and now only their lower arms are protected now.
But it's alright, they could be naked outside in the snow. It hasn't happened yet but Whumper likes to hint it will.
"Maybe as a Christmas present," they'll say. But never specify who for.
Whumper lives out in the middle of nowhere. Well, not nowhere. Out on those winding back roads that thread a dozen lonely homesteads together. The houses are all quaint enough to be in a suburban neighborhood but instead stand separated by acres of unused lawns and broken woods.
A single car rumbles down the narrow road. Whumpee doesn't recognize it as one of the "neighbors' " cars. They wonder if it's just someone passing through or relatives staying over nearby.
They wonder if the person in the car even thinks someone like them is stuck here. They never had. The countryside is too picturesque for such horrors, right?
But their musings make them not notice Whumper's car snake into the gravel driveway. Until they hear the janking of the front door lock. Whumper's boots thump heavily on the mat outside.
...they're mad about something. Whumpee steals their courage.
Only two days to Christmas...they'll be alright...
whumpee waking up tied to a bed is absolutely one of my favorites because personally i would be terrified out of my mind because why a bed of all things. a chair or literally anything but a bed.
Enough of whumpers breaking whumpees, give me whumpers so intimidating whumpees are threatened by them and so scared of them, even a subtle order will send whumpee scrambling to obey whumper, despite never having seen whumper hurt anyone.
Whumpers that don't have to do anything to make whumpee obey, because whumpee is already scared shitless (and knows obeying is much better than angering whumper)
Sleepy whumper cuddling a scared whumpee... Holding them close... Nuzzling their neck... Lying on top of them like a cat... There is no escape it is time for eepy seepy
Everything they say is in their deep rumbling groggy voice, probably right by Whumpee's ear. It makes them sound almost angry and extra scary
"I'll count down... 3...2...1..." Whumpee is panicking, thinking they are doing something wrong, but nothing happens
chuckles fondly "Pretty thing..."
"You are never escaping me." Subconsciously holds Whumpee closer
"I won't forget, don't worry." Probably not even talking to Whumpee, but Whumpee now wracks their brain on what they could have done that day that would warrant a threat like that
"I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry." Whumpee first thinks they are being mocked, then eventually realises Whumper is having a nightmare. It's weird seeing their tormetor scared and vulnerable
^^^ Whumper might wake up and attack Whumpee out of confusion. Or because they know Whumpee saw them and heard them and they can't have them thinking they are weak or pathetic, or even worse, that Whumpee will ever have the chance of seeing them like that again. There is a slim chance of bonding here, if Whumper feels like talking about it...
Claws at and abuses Whumpee even in sleep
"Quiet."
"Stay still."
"Do not pull away from me."
"Behave."
"Beg."
"Turn over."
^^^ Orders that could be aimed at Whumpee or the Whumpee in Whumper's dream, Whumpee certainly has no idea
"You beg so sweetly."
"I want to string you up and carve you open."
"Take it. Take it."
"Cry. Cry for me, darling. That's it."
"You can do better than that."
"Aw, that looked like it hurt. I think we should try that one some more."
"I think we should play a game again. You always do so well with those."
"There, just like that. What a perfect little stress toy."
^^^ Whumpee is pretty sure Whumper is dreaming, but it's turning their stomach to listen to them enjoying what is clearly a torture session in their head. It makes it so much more real somehow, it scares them, especially when they say things that they have never said to Whumpee directly. And the way they say it, dripping with sadistic perversion and pleasure... It makes Whumpee shudder
Whumper dreams of Previous Whumpee
Whumpee cannot sleep all night, because even if they manage to fall asleep, all they have are nightmares
"You don’t need chains when fear does the job for you."
You think you know me.
You don’t.
I see it in your eyes—the way you search for something human in me. Some scrap of mercy. A weakness to exploit. How foolish. How adorable.
You don’t understand, do you? I was not born cruel. I was made this way, sculpted by hands rougher than mine, by nights darker than yours. I learned that pain is power, that fear is loyalty, that nothing is ever truly given—it is taken, stolen, wrung from trembling hands.
And you, sweet thing, are mine.
You fight so hard. It’s charming, really. The way your breath hitches when I whisper in your ear, the way your body tenses when I shift beside you in sleep. Do you think I don’t notice? That I don’t feel it? Even unconscious, I reach for you, hold you close. You are warmth, softness—mine to torment, mine to keep.
You lie awake, listening to me. The things I say. The things I dream. Does it terrify you? Hearing the hunger in my voice, the promises I make to no one but the darkness? Or does some part of you wonder… who was before you?
I know you do. I see it in the way you shudder when I murmur about past games, about the ones who cried before you.
But you’re different.
Aren’t you?
I could break you. Easily. But I won’t. Not yet. Not until you give me what I want—your fear, your surrender, your lovely little whimpers in the night.
I am yours to worship as much as you are mine to torture.
So go on. Try to sleep. Pretend you don’t hear me.
Jonas wished he could say he had grown used to the steady ache that radiated from his sternum to his stomach over the last two days, but he had not. Each inhale felt as if his ribs turned into knives, stabbing into his lungs with every expansion of his chest. Each exhale came out as a pained wheeze, coupled with an unpleasant tingle in his bruised diaphragm. Fuck, bruised was an understatement. From his collarbone to his abdomen Jonas was littered in a mirage of colors, hues of purples and yellows, even a few still fresh red splotches. Normally, his tan complex would be able to conceal to full extent of damage, but given how sickly pale he’d become from being locked away for…days? weeks? months?, the trace of beatings appeared more prominent on his skin.
Steel toed boots can do a surprising amount of damage to the human body with enough force, can’t they? Jonas couldn’t even remember the lesson he was meant to have been taught after the air had been repeatedly kicked out of his lungs. Whatever it was, he sure as hell wouldn’t be doing it again. Then again, with how painful it was to get a single, good breath, he wouldn’t be doing anything for a bit of time. Long enough to let him stew on his options and come up with a new deranged plan of escape that would earn him a beating twice as bad as the last.
Worth it.
The door at the top of the basement steps opened, a flood of harsh yellow light descending down the stairs while the dark figure above remained blacked out in shadows. Jonas squinted his eyes to help them more quickly become adjusted to the new light source in the dank basement, the corners already watering. He wanted to believe the familiar dampness that was trying to cloud his vision was a result of his stinging corneas, yet a bitter part of him couldn’t help but wonder if he’d somehow been conditioned to burst into tears at the mere sight of Malik. Though it was too difficult to make out from the combination of distance and blinding light, Jonas could see Malik was holding something in his left hand.
His already sore stomach flipped into a multitude of knots. Every step that Malik took down the steps mirrored a heavy thump from Jonas’s heart. What would it be today? Would Malik be interested in drawing more blood from Jonas’s forearms next to where the previous cuts were still scabbed over? Would he be coming to claim another finger to send to his family who had yet to pay up for the ransom for their son? Would he leash him again, this time flinging the lead over one of the pipes from the ceiling to string him up and watch him asphyxiate? Or would this finally be the end; had the deadline come and gone for his safe-ish return and it was time to send him home piece by piece to his stingy parents?
The whimper that escaped Jonas was pathetic, but not enough to make Malik stop and reconsider what he was doing. He never did. This was his job, after all. He’d never get paid for any of these gigs if his soft heart made him release every captive that cried and pleaded and begged to not be flayed alive in front of a camera. To add insult to (literal) injury, Jonas couldn’t even find it in himself to squirm away from the black boots stepping closer to his head in one last defiant act. While only his wrists and ankles were bound, the pain that throbbed worse than before due to his elevated heart rate prevented him from trying to wriggle upright and scoot away.
Boots stopped just inches away from Jonas’s nose and for a split second he was entirely convinced the foot would pull back to punt him in the face. He could already envision the cracking of his nose, his face, his skull, his neck, put out of his misery like a crippled horse via choking to death on his own blood. That merciful end never came, instead Malik dropped to a crouch and sat back on his haunches to observe his panting captive. Jonas bit his lip to stifle the whine that almost slipped out when Malik threaded his fingers through the matted curls and pulled, forcing him to crane his neck and look up at his tormentor.
He looked the same as ever. Black shirt, black pants, black bandana around the lower half of his face. The only shred of color to be seen on his dreary attire was the white designs over where his mouth would be under the bandana, meant to look like a row of exposed teeth one would see on a skull. Dark eyes were trying to force teary green ones to meet his gaze, however Jonas refused. Malik was too intense, too cold, and any prolonged eye contact was enough to make Jonas go mad with anticipation of abuse. Either way, it didn’t bother Malik who instead let his eyes roam over his battered face and down to his chest. The way the muscles twitched and heaved with uneven breathing didn’t escape his captor.
When Malik raised the hand that had been holding something, Jonas couldn’t help but snap his attention to it to mentally prepare himself for what was to come. He was expecting the usual weaponry, either the hunting knife Malik was so fond of or maybe some kind of tether. There had been a few times he spiced things up with a taser, or a ball gag, even a cheap cigarette lighter. Not this time, it seemed. Pinched between his gloved thumb and forefinger was a small, blue capsule that looked suspiciously like a pill. Well now, that was new and still entirely unwelcome.
Jonas flicked his eyes between the suspicious pill and Malik’s stony, half visible expression, unsure of the correlation. Was it even a pill to begin with, or was it one of those poison pellets left out for vermin? That would make much more sense for his captor to offer, even if vomiting blood was needlessly awful if there was no camera filming.
“Open your mouth,” Malik instructed, voice still frighteningly rough despite being muffled by the bandana.
Yeah, no, fuck no, Jonas was not opening his mouth for the mystery tablet that was definitely something toxic. Having his insides melted and expelled from both ends of his digestive tract didn’t sound very appealing right now, especially when his stomach was already cramping with hunger pains and bruised abs. To signify this, Jonas pointedly clamped his lips as tight as he could and tried to jerk his head to the side, though Malik’s hand in his hair prevented him from doing anything more than flinching.
Malik was undeterred by this act of rebellion as he often was. He pressed the pill to Jonas’s lips, painfully trying to wedge the tiny thing against his clenched teeth to no avail. Jonas wouldn’t put it past him to actually knock his front tooth out just to have an opening.
“It’s medicine,” Malik tried again when Jonas had yet to obey him. “Take it.”
In a surprising act of temporary mercy, Malik relented his physical badgering and pulled his hand away from Jonas’s mouth. He knew it would be risky engaging in conversation with his captor, even more so when he was looking for an opening to pop something past his lips, but this all felt…very uncharacteristic. Hell, everything Malik did was uncharacteristic as far as he could tell.
“Wh…what is it?” Jonas rasped.
“Medicine.”
“What kind…?”
“The good kind. Extra strength, might make you a little drowsy,” Malik held the tablet up to his mouth again. “Take it.”
But why? Why did Jonas need medicine? What was the medicine supposed to do? Was it even medicine, or was it only being called that the same way children were told their dog was going to live on a farm when they were actually being euthanized? Last time Jonas checked, internal bleeding and scabs and battered limbs couldn’t be magically cured with a single blue pill, although general aches and pains could be. Yet the idea of Malik giving him a painkiller didn’t sit right in his gut. His instincts were screaming at him not to trust the man, not that he ever did any other time, and to reject the small act of kindness that had to be a trap.
“N…no,” Jonas did his best to keep his mouth as small as possible, scarcely moving his lips to enunciate to make sure Malik didn’t have an opportunity to force the tablet inside before he could snap his teeth. “I…I don’t w-want it.”
Malik frowned, or rather Jonas assumed he was frowning judging the way his eyebrows furrowed. “You’re in pain. I’m trying to be nice.”
Fuck you and your niceness, you’re the reason I’m hurt! was what Jonas wanted to say. Even if he did say it, Malik probably wouldn’t have cared beyond a backhand across the face at most. Still, he shook his head in rejection to the offering as best he could with his hair still in the vice grip.
“Take it. I’m not telling you again.”
“N-no!”
“Last chance or we do this my way.”
Since when has anything ever been done that wasn’t Malik’s way? Tempting as it was to cave to the threat and make life just a smidgen easier for himself for the remainder of his captivity, Jonas held strong in not letting the pill clacking against his teeth into his mouth. No poison or whatever he claimed it was, not today, sir.
With a frustrated sigh, Malik released his hold on Jonas’s curls and let the boy’s head drop back to the concrete floor with a yelp. The new throb of pain that exploded against his temple made him wince, a whirl of stars blotting his sight and clearing away when he forced himself to sit up on his arms to alleviate the nausea. It took a couple of blinks before Jonas was confident he wasn’t going to retch as a result of his budding headache. Of course, there was nothing in his body for him to vomit even if he tried, but the idea of gagging and contracting his stomach was a full body pain he didn’t want to experience right now.
Curiously, he saw from the corner of his eye Malik tug the edge of his bandana down to expose his mouth, popping the pill he had been forcefully offering to Jonas on the tip of his tongue and sealing it behind his lips. Huh. Well…guess it wasn’t poisonous after all, unless Malik had some sort of secret tolerance for those kinds of things. It must have been safe enough if he was willing to show off its lack of immediate bodily harm, probably to taunt Jonas for not accepting his rare kind gesture and forcing himself to wallow in agony even longer. Though, hadn’t Malik mentioned one main side effect being drowsiness? That was a bit strange for his captor to willingly subject himself to–
Any half baked thought in Jonas’s head was immediately silenced when Malik roughly grabbed hold on his chin. His thumb and fingers tug painfully into the flesh of his jaw, forcing Jonas to pry open his mouth or risk tearing the inside of his cheeks against his molars. He cried out from the unexpected pain, but the sound was silenced when Malik sealed his own lips over Jonas’s. Given that his mouth was already held in a way that prevented him from clamping his teeth down, he had no way to defend against the prodding tongue that invaded, licking past his lips and canines.
Jonas wanted to scream, to shove Malik away, to put up any kind of fight, but it was futile. His arms were still zip tied at the wrist and lifting them up as a unit would mean he’d only be supported upright in this position by his captor’s hold on his face. Even if he could bite down on the appendage touring the inside of his mouth, and God would he bite hard enough to draw blood, the physical retaliation would only worsen whatever future punishment Malik would have planned for such a bold attack. Regardless, Jonas still writhed and moaned against the assault, trying to both avoid the intruding tongue and shoving it away with his own. It was only when he felt something small and round be passed between the two of them did the realization sink in.
The damn pill.
Malik had never swallowed it, but he was determined to make Jonas choke it down by any means necessary. As soon as he had caught on to the plan, he struggled to push the tablet back into Malik’s mouth, no longer caring how his captor swirled his tongue around more thoroughly than needed. The coating was beginning to melt off the pill from the shared spit, leaving a bitter aftertaste in Jonas’s throat. If Malik cared about the unpleasant taste, he didn’t show it, but he appeared to have enough of this useless back and forth kissing.
Like Jonas wasn’t having enough problems breathing on his own before his oxygen intake was reduced by his captor sealing his lips over his own, Malik used his other hand to reach up and pinch close Jonas’s nose. Within a second, he was panicking from the suffocating lack air, only able to gasp against Malik’s minty exhales. His moans became more desperate, jolting his shoulders like he might be able to wiggle away while getting absolutely nowhere. He was already a horrid combination of lightheaded and weak in part from being dehydrated and injured, meaning the effect of air deprivation was taking over faster than usual.
His coordination was becoming sloppier in his attempts to keep the dissolving pill in Malik’s mouth. However, Jonas wasn’t quick enough to stop his captor from swooping under and jamming his tongue full force towards the back of his throat, shoving the tablet deeper as well. The grainy texture was plenty slick and easily slipped down the curve of Jonas’s tongue, lodging itself in his esophagus. With no air to muster a cough and the need to clear the obstruction from his useless airways, he had no choice but to swallow the damn thing down the rest of the way.
As soon as Jonas involuntarily gulped, Malik relaxed his fingers from his nose to allow much needed oxygen back into his burning lungs. The hand remained like a vice on Jonas’s jaw, though he finally broke off the unwarranted kiss as the task had been successfully completed. A string of saliva connected between departing tongues before it was broken by Jonas greedily sucking in as much fresh air as possible. Two gloved fingers pressed against his Adam's apple, eliciting another thick gulp that convinced Malik enough the pill had been completely swallowed. Tears that had been brimming since the beginning of this ordeal finally fell past Jonas’s lashes, tracking through the dirt on his cheeks and soaking into the leather gloves.
He sniffled when the thumb that had been previously digging into the hollow of his cheek moved to tenderly wipe away another stray tear. Jonas wondered if his captor could feel the burning blush that was flushing his whole face, steaming from his neck to his ears. That was the most humiliating punishment he had ever experienced, and worst of all, he couldn’t even complain that it was any more painful than a kick to the ribs. It was too intimate. It was too violating. It was too immodest. And it had absolutely no consequence to Malik, it appeared, not in the same way it utterly wrecked Jonas.
After a moment, Malik softened his iron grip on Jonas’s face, except he didn’t let him drop as suddenly as before. Rather, he kept his chin cradled in his hand and guided the poor boy to lay himself fully back on the floor. Jonas felt limp like a ragdoll, panting and lolling his head to hide his reddening face as best he could. It was unlikely the medicine was kicking in already, though it was a possibility given how much the pill had melted before eventually going down. Jonas was tired, yes, utterly exhausted, and it was too hazy to tell if the pain reliever was doing its job to soothe the ache in his chest or if he was just too worn out to pay it any mind anymore. A mix of both, perhaps, with an added dash of low oxygen levels that were still struggling to balance out.
Malik watched as the coiled muscles in Jonas’s trembling form steadily relaxed from the sedative. There was nothing Jonas could do besides wince out a distressed hum when his captor tucked a few errant curls behind his ear, smoothing a few more loose strands away from where they stuck to his wet cheeks. The hand at last removed itself from his personal space, taking with it the threat of being touched or grabbed again. A shiver rolled down Jonas’s spine when Malik idly wiped the lingering sheen of saliva off his lower lip with his thumb, the same thumb that probably still had the salty taste of tears clinging to the leather fabric.
“We’ll see how you want to take your next dose in a few hours.”
A social outcast whumper that buys a whumpee so that they'd have a friend.
whumper that love bombs and obsesses over whumpee.
whumper who is so rejection-sensitive and becomes violent or withdrawn at the blink of an eye—
paranoid
whumper who demands increasingly painful ways for whumpee to prove their love for whumper.
hungry
whumper would be content for a while, but the peace never lasts. there's a hole in their heart and it could never be filled. how can anybody ever truly love someone like them?
pathetic whumper who creates a self-fulfilling prophecy...
extra:
(sympathetic whumpee who realizes they'll never be enough)
Okay hear me out, ransom videos that are not ransom videos. Whumper just sending a clip of whumpee screaming, or bound in a chair, or anything else, your pick, and not saying anything. No demands, no nothing. Just this video popping up in caretaker's inbox out of nowhere after they've spent months searching for whumpee and were right about to give up.
A loud ringing infiltrated Whumpee's ears. Slowly, his eyelids attempted to rise, fighting the intense urge to keep them closed. He tried to gather his thoughts, but his mind felt loopy.
What happened?..
Whumpee slightly lifted his head, looking at his surroundings. A dull grey was splashed on the concrete walls around him. The only source of light was a flickering LED, which barely stayed attached to the ceiling. Dead bugs resided within the light, complementing its constant buzzing.
A drip of sweat fell down Whumpee's forehead.
What did I do to deserve this?
He didn't even make an attempt to move, as the rope showed it's strength by digging into his skin.
Turning his head downwards, he began to realize just what situation he was in.
Whumpee was bound to an old wooden chair, tightly tied around a pillar, preventing any sort of movement. Every limb was bound to the seat with excruciatingly tight rope.
Stripped to only his underwear, he felt nauseous. He doesn't even remember how he got here. He doesn't know what will happen to him. Whumpee is petrified.
However, Whumpee did not have much time to linger on those thoughts, as footsteps were heard approaching.
His heart sank as he heard the clanking of a key unlock the rusty door. It screeched as it opened. A tall figure slowly walked out of the shadowy abyss behind the door.
Almost immediately, the door had slammed shut. The figure turned the lock before proceeding to Whumpee.
"You're awake? Very good." The man said. The vibrations from his deep voice made Whumpee shiver. "I almost thought you were dead.. Out for quite a long time." He chuckled as he gently grabbed Whumpee's chin.
"I guess that's what I get for using asphyxiation." His eyes moved down to Whumpee's neck. He examined the red markings left from the abduction.
Whumpee felt frozen. Too scared to speak, and too afraid to move. Although, the rope wouldn't give him much leniency. Whumpee fearfully stared straight at the man, his eyes filled with tears.
Whumpee was hoping that, possibly, this kidnapper would see such a sad and hopeless face, and immediately let him go. At the very least, Whumpee hoped this would lighten whatever torture he would go through.
"Ah, wherever are my manners?" The man spoke suddenly, "I'm Whumper. You've probably heard of me?" He said with a peircing grin. It seemed quite exaggerated. Whumpee stayed silent. He didn't have the courage to speak.
Whumper's smile faded almost instantly. "Or maybe not.." Whumper let go of Whumpee's chin and dusted his hand off against his suit jacket, acting as if he had touched a piece of dirt.
"Look, I'm sure you're wondering why I brought you here, right?" Whumper said as he circled Whumpee.
A string of silence lingered in the air, which seemed to frustrate Whumper. "Right?" He emphasized, slamming his hand on the pillar.
Whumpee nodded frantically. "Ugh. You didn't get brain damage on the way, did you?" Whumper said as he poked whumpee in the forehead. "Last time I checked, you have a voice. You used it when I was strangling you."
Whumpee had to pry his jaw open to murmur even the slightest word. Embarrassed, he turned his head downward slightly as he spoke.
"yeah.."
Satisfied, Whumper continued. "I've been so... bored lately.." He said as he reached for something hooked on his belt.
"And, I just.. have this, desire. Desire to hurt." He pulls a decently sized blade out, and twirls it in his hands.
Whumpee lets out a whimper. He just wants to go home. He never asked for any of this.
"Usually, my targets are tough to get. They are strong, they fight back. But I've never had my hand at someone like you." Whumper says, slightly poking Whumpee's chest with the knife. He puts a small amount of pressure on it, creating a cut.
"Someone weak.. Someone who isn't cared about..it would be a great break from the ol' formula. Besides, I wouldn't even have to worry about anyone looking for you."
Whumpee clenches his fists. His face full of blush. Embarrassment floods his body. Whumper notices this, and grins.
“Ya see me now?” He mused, smile faltering slightly when he didn’t get a response. “Something wrong with your eyes? Tch, no point in extra body parts, i’ll just shoot ‘em out.” He brought the gun to Whumpee’s face, letting it hover between them. Whumpee opened their mouth to speak, a choked sob drowning their words “WAIT, I - I SEE YOU, I SAW” i cried out, pressing their head into the pillows, trying to create some distance. Whumper chuckled at the response, lowering the gun with a content sigh as he gave Whumpee’s cheek a harsh pat. Fluffy’s cries breaking the silence as Whumper turned to look at them. “Oh ya, you’ve got a pet…. ” he turned back to Whumpee “You’re gonna be MY pet from now on” He stated, the grin back on his face. Whumpee nodded their head in denial “Y-YOU can’t just TAKE me!” they argued, hysteria clear in their voice. Whumper pressed his finger to their lip “No yelling at your master.” He ordered with a slight pout “And why can’t I take you? Isn’t that what you do with a pet? Pick them off the street and give them a better life?” Whumpee couldn’t argue with that, their sobs filling the room again. Whumper rolled his eyes “Stop fucking crying, i haven’t even done anything to you.” He picked the gun back up, shoving the barrel between Whumpee’s already parted lips, only adding to their fear as they gagged on it. “Alright fine, stop crying and i’ll give you a choice” The words were music to Whumpee’s ears, he might leave them be, for a price of course. Whumpee forced their sobs down, instantly shutting their mouth as Whumper retrieved the glistening gun. He lowered his head, lips brushing against Whumpee’s ear “A bullet to your thigh or a broken leg?” Horror filled Whumpee as they let out another audible sob, only to be instantly silenced by Whumper’s hand on their throat “If i don’t get an answer in the next three seconds, it’ll be both.” He began trailing the gun down Whumpee’s body, stopping at their leg “3…..2……” He glanced back up at Whumpee “....1” “ANKLE!” Whumpee howled as he began pulling the trigger back. “Oh? Alright then.” Whumper pulled himself off of Whumpee, grabbing a fistful of the blanket under them and trying to shove it through Whumpee’s pursed lips, an annoyed sigh escaping their own as Whumpee turned their head away, their fear trickling into anger. “Whumpee, OPEN” Whumper demanded, pressing his thumb to their lips, this time Whumpee obliged, baring their teeth before lifting themselves off the bed and biting at Whumper’s shoulder, grabbing the gun in the process, trying to aim it as Whumper groaned in pain. Whumpee was knocked to their side as Whumper pulled himself up, twisting Whumpee’s arm to get the gun free. Whumper shoved them off the bed, a scowl playing his face as he threw the gun to the side “YOU THINK I NEED THAT TO TAKE CARE OF YOU?!” He lowered his weight ontop of Whumpee again, this time pressing down on their chest as he dealt blow after blow to their face, not stopping even as they pulled their hand back bloodied. “ I DIDN’T WANT TO HURT YOU.” He seethed as he pulled off of the now limp figure, a frustrated groan leaving his lips as he ran his finger through his hair, “YOU MADE ME FUCKING HURT YOU. I DIDN’T WANT TO HURT YOU” Whumper repeated, his voice quivering slightly. Whumpee wanted to run, they wanted to scream and cry and reach for the gun and shoot Whumper full of metal, and they tried. They tried to move their arms, they tried to curl their fingers, they tried to lift their head. They kept on trying, Whumpers voice fading out as they tried oh so desperately to keep their eyes open as he carried them out of the house, the rain dripping onto their face coming to a stop as he gently lay them in the passenger's seat, tying their wrists behind them and pressing a thick fabric to their tongue. They tried still, even while darkness began enveloping them as the engine came to life, whisking Whumpee away from everything they knew.
Hiii! could you do a home invasion drabble with some kidnapping please 🥺 I love your writings and how brutal you are with the whump, it’s *chef’s kiss* 🫶
HEY WONDERFUL ANON, I'M THRILLED TO HEAR YOU ENJOY MY WRITING AND AM LITERALLY ECSTATIC THAT YOU'RE ASKING ME FOR ONE!! SORRY IT TOOK ME A WHILE TO RESPOND, I HOPE YOU ENJOY, PLEASE LET ME KNOW IF YOU WANTED ME TO EXPAND ON CERTAIN PARTS OR EDIT ANYTHING!!
(NOT PROOF READ)
Whumpee lay sprawled out across their bed, the glare from their phone reflecting off their eyes as they doom scrolled through their feed. They shifted their position, turning onto their back as they lifted the phone over their face, instantly stopping as they caught sight of a shadow dart pass the door. Whumpee sat up, fully alert as they crawled to the edge of the bed, a shiver running through them as their toes met the freezing wood floors. “....Fluffy? ……That you?” They called out to their dog/cat, cautiously inching closer to the door “Fluf-FUCK!!” They gasped, hand darting to cover their mouth as the creature popped it’s head through the doorway, completely oblivious to the shock they had delivered as they hopped onto Whumpee’s bed, getting themselves comfortable. Whumpee let out a sigh, rolling their eyes as they tucked themselves back into bed joining their pet with a begrudging side-eye. They lay without interruption for the next few hours, before they knew it, the sun had set and a light drizzle had begun, lightly pattering against their window, only adding to the serene calm. Whumpee only got up after ‘Fluffy’, tossing their phone onto the mattress before groggily turning on the house lights as they made their way to the kitchen, pulling out a box of leftovers and popping into the microwave. They paced as the electronic worked its magic, it’s quiet humming turning into a repeated beeping sound until Whumpee pulled out the black container. They dragged their feet to the table, annoyance setting in as they noticed the rain soaked chair. WAIT, RAIN?! Whumpee’s eyes widened, the drizzle lightly speckling their legs. They turned a 180, fingers frantically pulling at the lifted window and slamming it shut. They were suddenly no longer hungry. Whumpee left their food as they made a round the house, multiple items clearly out of place, a book left tossed on the couch, TV running on mute, and a picture frame of themselves left with clear fingerprints on it. Whumpee’s breath hitched, cursing as felt their pockets for the phone they couldn’t live without. Frightened tears pricked their eyes as they darted back to the kitchen, pulling a knife from the drawer. They gripped it tight, knuckled whitening as they stalked back to their room, slipping through the door without opening all the way. Whumpee knelt over their bed, picking up the cool metal just as they heard a click behind them. They froze, letting out a whimper as the gun barrel met their head. Tears poured from their eyes as the person behind them pressed their chest onto Whumpee’s back, their one hand yanking the phone from whumpee as they forced their crying figure to turn around. Whumpee’s silent tears turned into low sobs as they saw the masked figure “P-please, i-i won’t tell anyone,” they begged. Whumper caressed Whumpee’s face, wiping a few tears away as he tossed the phone onto the floor with a thud, not breaking eye contact with whumpee as he pointed the gun and shot at it. Whumpee cried harder, body shaking as they tried pulling away from the figure. “P-please, i d-don’t have anything. I swear i d-don’t have anything. Y-you don’t w-want me, y-you won’t get a-any ransom.” They felt awful even suggesting that the stranger go after someone else, but they had to get away. Whumper cocked their head to the side, pushing Whumpee onto the bed by their shoulder “Baby, ransom is for you plan on returning someone” He cooed, straddling Whumpee. “I-i haven’t even s-seen you, i w-wont be able t-to give a description” Whumpee continued to beg, chest heaving as Whumper gripping their face, not letting them look away as he pulled his mask off, a grin playing at his lips. “Ya see me now?”
