#implied nsfwhump

[scumashling]

Really obsessed with a Guilty Whumper who breaks down crying after SAing Whumpee, possibly apologizing, possibly lamenting about how they can't control their urges and calling themselves sick, possibly asking Whumpee why they had to go and make them angry, and Whumpee being forced to comfort them and assure them it's okay ♥️

[yet-how-they-creep]

Another prompt because I had a *dream*

Newly introduced to the world of the richest of the rich, underground human pet trade, exotic and illegal vices only those with enough to spend dare to indulge themselves in, Whumpee gets caught up in the middle of it and is sold to a seemingly nice gentleman.

A man so kind and generous they love to treat their employees with brand new, shiny rewards even before they claim them as their own.

Whumpee barely meets this man, the only things they get are glimpses and impressions, and they're good ones. So when they're handed off to a particularly hard-working employee, they expect them to be just as nice. (Poor innocent thing doesn't know how these things go yet.)

So when the employee, let's call them Whumper 2, takes them, they have a nice and civil conversation, and Whumper 2 seems to enjoy them chatting away. For a while at least.

But then suddenly they're alone, in a secluded area, and Whumper 2 goes:

"Okay, that's enough, you're nice and all, but you know that's not what we're here for"

And they do whatever they wanted from the beginning 🤭

[secretsmutcorner]

Aster's

1,620 words | Aster and the midnight emperor

Content | Royal whump, monster whumpee, captivity, magical stress position, sleep deprivation, implied: non-con & dub-con sex, beatings, mention of: exorsexism

Notes | How are things going with our little role reversal? Is Aster enjoying himself yet?

Taglist | @maracujatangerine @scoundrelwithboba @mushiboble @lolrpop @whumpsday @whumpyreader @anonintrovert @whumpycries

Stars, he was being so stupid.

Aster had never been good at arguing. When he ran into trouble, he just sulked until it went away. To now put forward an entire case with the queen and his siblings that he should be the one to hold the — the creature — it was a complete waste of energy he wouldn’t have bothered with before.

Maybe he had changed, like he told Luna when she called into question whether he was responsible enough to keep such a dangerous prisoner. Sol backed down when Aster put forward the point that he’d spent months getting humiliated and raped by them every day and should get to take his full revenge; guilt gnawed at him, but he hadn’t been asked whether he enjoyed it and really, it would have been rude to.

The queen didn’t care too much, after all, so long as Aster swore to her the creature would be kept secure. She held the key to their collar, anyway.

And suddenly, he was free to retrieve them.

He did consider doing it himself, but the dungeons were creepy, and now there was no real reason to go back down. He had a guard fetch them while he was at breakfast. A part of him looked forward to the look on their face when he would meet them in his rooms with glee.

He’d given the guard the leash they had used for him.

And now that he returned to his apartment, that leash was tied to the writing desk.

They knelt on the floor, folded in on themself. In the light of day, they looked worse. Their bruises — there must be so many bruises — remained invisible, but there were bumps and cuts and welts, now sharply highlighted.

Scratches surrounded their collar. Their hands were still now, tied tightly behind their back, but they must, he realized, have tried to get it off in a blind panic. Possibly more than once.

They looked up when they heard the door, and audibly gasped when they saw him. It was weirdly cute. He’d made sure they wouldn’t know who had sent for them, whose room they were being taken to, and being unfamiliar with the castle, they had no way of knowing.

They strightened on their knees. »Your Highness.«

It was disgusting how hopeful they sounded. Did he have any reason to treat them well?

But then, he had been better in their care than before. Before, in the situation they engineered for that very purpose. Like the way he hadn’t done now.

This was so confusing. And it was made more confusing by the fact that now they were here, in his chambers, at his mercy.

Their eyes flickered up at his face, then back to the floor deferentially. It didn’t look good on them; that shouldn’t be his concern.

They tensed when he drew his knife.

Good.

When he bent over them, they trembled under his touch, shrinking back down. He cut the rope tying their wrists. The skin underneath was burned.

They heaved a breath. Their arms slowly fell forward again, locked in their position for too long to be comfortable doing it.

They properly squealed when he grabbed one and pulled it in front, flinched away from him when he let go.

I’m sorry. He barely managed not to say it. He wasn’t sure what he’d done that for.

He fed them the breakfast scraps he’d brought back with him. It was wickedly satisfying, until something sparked inside him, hot and painful, at their too-fervent »Thank you, your Highness.«

He’d planned to parade them around, like they had for him, but now he had them in front of him, he couldn’t stand the thought of everyone staring at them. Seeing them like this.

So he just left them there.

* »You can’t keep saying that.« He sat back on the creature’s thighs.

They looked up at him, furrowing their hairless brow.

»You can’t keep saying it’s okay.« He dismounted, letting himself sink into the sheets of his bed; a part of him still assumed it must be theirs, since they were sharing it.

They accepted everything. Sure, they whimpered in pain, sometimes, when Aster took them, but when he hesitated, they’d always reassure him.

They turned to look at him. »I’d do the same thing in your position.«

»Oh, you’ve done far worse.« He spat the words out as venomously as he could, but he knew any threats he could muster had long lost credibility. He was being pathetic.

Maybe his siblings had been right.

»I know.« Their gaze drifted to the ceiling.

»You think you deserve this?«

»I think it’s fair.« A chuckle broke from their throat, a mangled and painful thing. »And nothing you could do could make this worse. Sometimes it’s… a welcome distraction, you know. Some fresh sensation to take my mind off…« They shivered, then gestured at their body. »You don’t have to believe me.«

He briefly wondered how much pain he’d have to be in to call being raped a welcome distraction. Though frankly, probably not much, not if it was them; he’d enjoyed them fucking him more often than not. Was it even rape, when they encouraged him every time? It didn’t matter — it was painful to them, he knew that.

He couldn’t let the thought fester.

His eyes wandered over the pretty body they had indicated. Their injuries were now mostly healed up, as far as he could tell. »Why a woman?«

They glanced up at him, then down at themself. »I had to choose one or the other. They wouldn’t — I was scared they wouldn’t think I was looking human enough if I didn’t.«

Their voice crackled away like a dying fire. But they looked back at him, and their eyes rested on him so thoughtfully he almost expected them to say something else.

It didn’t make sense. He wasn’t a woman. Why would they be looking at him?

»Do you like it? This shape.«

»Every shape is bad if I’m stuck in it.« Quieter, they added, »Do you like it?«

He chuckled uneasily, looked away. »Does it matter?«

They didn’t meet his eyes, either, when he looked at them again. »I suppose not. You’re stuck with it, too.«

It was true. He would have much preferred their flowing, changing state. »And I’m still captive, too. Sort of. Politics.« It was a silly thing to say. Their situations weren’t comparable, he wasn’t that stupid. But it was true, too.

»We could run away together. Just imagine.« A shadow of their old grin crossed their face; they must know they couldn't be serious. »I'd hold you tight and fly us out of here, and we'd never look back, never have to think about politics or power or any of it again.«

»Fly?«

They nodded, closing their eyes. He wished he'd see more of them — always pinched in pain, these days — then realized he could order them to look at him. Then didn't.

In truth, he wanted them to be in less pain. He wanted them back the way they were. Not badly enough to consider setting them loose, of course, even if that had ever been an option — he didn't want to go back to how everything was, he wasn't crazy. A little pain was less than they deserved. Had their roles been reversed — but he needn't speculate.

He watched them, eyes closed, breath shallow. From time to time, a tremble overcame them, as if their body was trying to escape itself. Maybe it was.

Revenge was what he wanted. It was proper for a wronged prince. Of course they'd want him to leave that behind.

»But that's not what's going to happen.«

* »Could you get some sleep last night?« He didn't know why he bothered asking. It needn't be his concern.

They'd held him so gently when he had nightmares.

They blearily opened their eyes, so slowly it was answer enough. They hardly slept properly anymore, their head drooping at every hour of the day when it became too much for their body, until the pain pulled them out of it again. If he had ever doubted their words about their suffering, there was no way they were faking this. He pitied them.

Suddenly, their chest heaved with a sob, then more. It shocked him more than anything. He’d never seen them cry. He’d never thought the powerful, confident Emperor even could cry.

Their eyes were dry, so maybe that was true, for some definition of crying.

»I can't live like this. It hurts so much, all the time.«

»I know.« There was nothing more useful he could say. He knew how it was, being in pain. Maybe not this constantly, but still.

What would he have wanted?

He pulled them into his arms. They fell into him like rain, their hands clinging on to him in turn. The sobs didn’t cease, not for a long time.

He should go to breakfast. He held them tighter, against his intuition. He couldn’t think of many things he’d liked less than being held this tightly, by them, when he was hurt. But then, his pain came from bodily injuries that would only be aggravated that way; maybe theirs was different. And he wasn’t the one responsible for their pain. He wasn’t.

Slowly, their sobs faded into more even breaths, the grip of their hands loosened.

He still held them. He didn’t know what else to do.

»Does this even make a difference?«

Their hands clenched tighter at that, as if they were afraid he’d abandon them then and there.

»More than you can imagine.«

He held them that night, too. Maybe they slept. He wasn’t sure.

[goes-whump-in-the-night]

💄 (doll them up) + 🎀 (share them with friends) for poor nebulous, also happy new year!!

heel

Synopsis: Lou gets all dolled up.

Content Warnings: superhero whumpee, female whumpee, domestic-ish whump, fucked up beauty standards, invasive bathing, dressed up, a roomful of creepy whumpers, drugged, implied nsfwhump

Author’s Notes: See, Nebby? The people love you!

Read on AO3

Lou had once dreamed about wearing heels one day. Like so many girls in Newton City, she had grown up idolizing glamorous heroes like Roseweaver, Dawnlight, Bubblina - women who seemed to do the impossible, saving the city with style and then still looking gorgeous in designer gowns when they showed up for red carpet premieres that girls like Lou would read about in gossip magazines.

Red Sand, of course, had done her best to disillusion her of the idea that this kind of lifestyle was either desirable or achievable for anyone.

“What have I told you about idolizing those celebriheroes,” the woman had once scolded a 14 year-old Lou, using the derisive term she used for people she viewed as celebrities first, heroes a distant second. “The only reason you think they can do it all is because they have squads of sidekicks to give them credit for the heroics and squads of stylists to make them look good for the rest of their lives. They’d be better off sticking to the ads and shilling their high heel propaganda to people who don’t need to run for their lives on the daily.”

Lou, awkward, gangly, and still going by Grav Girl at the time, had tried to show Red Sand a picture of Bubblina in the magazine - a two-page spread comparing her regular supersuit with her look at the Newton Film Awards earlier that week.

“But they wear heels with their regular costumes too!” she had insisted, attempting to defend her idols’ honors. “How do you know they don’t just like them?”

Her mentor’s sand had swooped in then, snatching the magazine out of Lou’s hand and flipping to a page that featured Bubblina in a shoe ad. “Because they’re getting paid to shill broken ankles to girls like you,” she had snapped before rolling up the magazine, smacking Lou on the head with it, and then dumping it in a wastebasket.

That had been a firm end to Lou’s consideration of including high heels in her own future supersuit. It was a decision that had proven fortuitous, both for her ankles and for the fact that her cool galaxy-themed boots had helped her go viral in her first year as Nebulous.

Still, there had still been a part of Lou who’d dreamed about maybe adopting some of that forbidden glamor in her civilian life. She had always dreamed that if she could ever manage to get invited to a big, fancy party as herself, then someday, she could wear heels, and makeup, and a nice dress, and just for one night, pretend someone like Roseweaver or Bubblina would give her a second glance.

What Davies did to her ruined even that small dream.

The man liked to entertain. Sometimes in a grand way, as he had after the auction, but mostly, with small cocktail parties where he entertained a tight group of friends. And Davies, being the gracious host he was, made certain Lou was able to participate in every one of these parties, even going to great lengths to assure she would match the dress code.

Every time there was to be one of these parties, Lou would know well in advance. As soon as she was released from either her “exercise” or from the doc’s lab for the day, she would be whisked away to prepare, ensuring she would be perfect for the night’s activities.

She would be showered in scalding water, scrubbed and shaved down to silky, unsullied perfection.

Her hair would be straightened, curled more appropriately, and yanked up into the look of a deceptively simple updo.

Her face would be caked with a thick layer of makeup, giving her the appearance of being both paler and blushing, her lips and lashes both lusciously full, unsightly bruises hidden out of sight.

She would be forced into a dress just as skimpy as her usual nightie, but often more formfitting, designed to flatten her tummy, pinch her waist, and emphasize her chest into an hourglass shape.

Her feet would be slid into gradually higher heels, as Davies’s stylists gained more confidence in her ability to walk in them.

And then she would be told to sit and wait, her only job to not let a lash fall out of place, under threat of Davies being very disappointed in her wasting her stylists’ efforts, until she was needed.

Lou gradually came to understand it was just for another game of control that Davies made her remain so still as she waited, because as soon as she would be called on, his guests would share none of his interest in keeping her pristine.

Always, she was asked to serve drinks at Davies’s parties - bring his guests new glasses, take away the old ones before they became too intrusive, and not cause any trouble as she did so.

Always, Davies and his guests made even this small act hellish for her.

Lou had just barely managed to learn to navigate the world with the pervasive fog and confusion her brain had been infected with, and having to do so in heels already made every step feel like a gamble. But she couldn’t even begin to approach the crowd of leering, grey-haired men without - without one of them touching her.

It was always someone giving her shoulder a lingering squeeze when she brought their new drink.

Patting the small of her back as she passed them by.

Copping a feel of her ass when she leaned down to pick up an empty drink.

Any one touch would’ve been enough to sicken and fluster Lou, but it was a whole pack of men subjecting her to this, each one of them feeling just as entitled as the next to a piece of her body - a part of her dignity.

It would only get worse as the night went on, and more drinks were swallowed by the pack. The men would get bolder in their touches.

Grabbing her face to force passing, “playful” kisses on her.

Tugging up her dress to catch a glimpse at her lingerie, if she had even been allowed any that night.

Slipping their feet in front of hers as she passed by, in hopes of tripping her and forcing her to spill something, because all of them understood, as soon as Lou spilled a drop of anything, then all bets were off, as far as Davies was concerned.

At Lou’s first mistake, whether it was the fault of herself or a too-handsy guest, Davies would find the young woman immediately, give her one disappointed shake of his head, and then give her collar a firm tug. Whether her last dose had been three hours or just ten minutes ago, the collar would give her another cocktail of her own, sending the world spinning around her until she was too weak to stand.

It happened every time. A gentleman would help her to her feet. She would stumble into the arms of another. She would be pushed, falling into the lap of one waiting for her on the couch, who would tell her to take a seat, sweetheart. And while he was telling her how pretty she looked, another would press behind her, telling her how incredible she felt, and -

And no matter what they did, Lou wasn’t allowed to cry. She was the only one who wasn’t allowed to ruin her makeup.

Lou didn’t have dreams about wearing heels anymore.

Just nightmares.

Previous • Next

Taglist: @labtrauma @acelightningwhumper @stars-hide-our-fires @loreleiloon

[brainrotlesbian]

The toy and the prince

Part 1: the discovery

Jordan wasn’t sure what he’d find down in the dungeon. All he knew is that he was curious, and while his sister and her advisors were away, he had a few hours to investigate. The first few cells were empty, and he began to grow bored until he opened the fourth cell door, revealing a person on the other side. Or, rather, a person-shaped lump of cloth and chains. They shifted slightly, their chest and back slowly raising then lowering, like they struggled to breathe. Jordan frowned, unsure of what, exactly, they had done to warrant such a punishment. He knew nothing about them, but he figured it couldn’t hurt to ask.

He slowly approached the prisoner, who gave no indication that they were aware of his presence. He knelt down next to them and gently placed his hand on their shoulder, which prompted thrashing and muffled screaming from them. He quickly drew his hand back until they slowed down, whimpering underneath the layers of cloth that mummified them.

Jordan huffed in irritation. How was he supposed to get them to realize that he wasn’t there to hurt them?

Their body still trembled as he tentatively reached for the end of the cloth at the back of their head, pulling it away without touching them.

“Mmm… mmmmph… hmmmm…” They whimpered as the cloth finally unwinded from their eyes, revealing the terrified look in them. They stared up into his face, still trembling.

“Mmmph!” Tears had formed in their beautiful deep blue eyes, slipping down their face.

The poor thing was terrified.

“I’m not here to hurt you!” Jordan said, raising both of his hands. “Promise!”

The person blinked, their eyes shifting around, examining their surroundings. Breathing heavily.

“Can—” Jordan stopped. He knew they couldn’t hear him, but needed their confirmation. He gestured to his ear with his pointer finger.

They stared at him for a moment, before recognition filled their eyes, and they shook their head. It didn’t seem like they could read lips, at least, not all that well, so he figured they weren’t normally deafened. He reached for them, only for them to scream, writhing away from him inch by inch.

“I’m not gonna hurt you!” Jordan snapped. “Jesus Christ you’re—“ He stopped when he saw them shaking, choking on the sobs lodged in their throat.

He’d fucked up. They were sobbing violently, to the point where they had trouble breathing. They gasped, straining and squirming against their tight restraints. Jordan held up his hands, slowly approaching them.

“Mm… hmmmm…” they gasped, struggling for every breath, until they slumped against the wall, glaring as Jordan got closer to them. “Mmmm.”

“I’m sorry,” Jordan said, continuing to unwraps the cloth, hoping that they would soon be able to speak and explain what happened to them.

His hopes soon died when he saw the thick leather muzzle buckled and padlocked around their mouth. He didn’t have the key, and he had no idea how to get the padlock off otherwise. He sighed, then moved to their side, staring at the plugs stuffed in their ears. He carefully reached out and pulled it from their ear, ignoring the whining from them as semi-dried glue stuck to it.

“Can you hear me now?” he asked, keeping his voice low so it wouldn’t startle them.

They turned to him, nodding silently. Now that their nose was no longer covered by the cloth, they seemed to be breathing better. He made quick work of removing the second ear plug, then sat down in front of them. They shifted in the chains binding them as Jordan finally got a better look at their face.

They were very pretty, in spite of the blood staining the left side of their face. Their left eye was slightly swollen, bruises battering the left side of their face. Evidently they’d been beaten. Jordan pursed his lips.

“Well… I guess we can kinda communicate now,” he said. “Sorta. How long have you been down here?”

“Mm-mmmph.” They blinked, narrowing their eyes in irritation.

“God, right, I’m sorry. I can’t take that thing off I… I don’t have anything to cut it off and I don’t have a key…”

He watched them wilt a little bit, lowering their head.

“Hey, wait, that doesn’t mean I won’t help,” he said. “I… you don’t deserve this, do you? Did you even do anything wrong?”

They looked up at him with tears pricking at their eyes again, then shook their head. They shifted again, the chains clanking against the cold concrete floor.

“They’ve just been keeping you down here for no reason?!” Jordan felt fire sparking in his chest.

This helpless, innocent, terrified person, held captive in the dungeon for who knows how long. He let out a heavy sigh.

“I’m gonna help you the best I can,” he said, standing up. “It probably isn’t safe here; I’ll take you back to my room.”

“Mmmm!!!” Their eyes widened, seemingly terrified. “Mmmmph!”

“Not… ah geez… not like that. It’s not safe here; it’s safer in my room. I’m trying to help you I promise.”

Jordan softly scooped them up in his arms. They were rather heavy; heavier than he was used to, but he wasn’t going to let that stop him. They wiggled and whined, until they quickly ran out of energy and went limp, resting their head against his shoulder with a soft cry. They curled in on themselves, crying softly into his chest.

“Shhh… it’s ok, it’ll be ok,” he whispered. “You’re gonna be ok.”

Jordan worked for a long time to remove the chains wrapped around their body, which was especially difficult without the key to unlock the padlocks keeping them around their body. The person sat still in his bed, not looking at him. After an hour and a half, he’d managed to remove the chains and the cloth mummifying them. Underneath the cloths, they were hardly wearing anything; no shirt and only a torn pair of pants.

“Almost there, almost there…” Jordan stuck out his tongue, unwrapping the cloths binding their feet.

“Mmmm…” They shifted their hips, still not moving their arms from behind their back. Jordan figured they were still bound, but he hadn’t had time to check.

“You have a family to go back to?” he asked, finally discarding the last of the cloths.

They shook their head, their face lowered. They wouldn’t look at him. His heart sank.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “If… you want, you could stay with me?”

They looked up, their eyes narrowed. He shifted behind them, working to free their bound wrists. He’d deal with the tape encasing their fists afterwards.

“Well, I mean, you don’t have anywhere to go, so, I figured, I could help you out a bit,” he said, making quick work of unbinding their wrists.

“Mmmfff.” They brought their hands to their lap, their movements stiff and obviously pained. “Mmmm!” Their taped hands scraped over the muzzle, prying at the padlocks desperately

“Hold on, hold on!” Jordan crawled back in front of them, grabbing their left hand and holding it in both of their hands.

“Hmmm!!!” Their eyes went wide and they pulled against his grip, but they weren’t strong enough to break free. “Mmmmm!!!”

“Easy, I’m trying to help you,” he said. “Will you let me? Please?”

“Mmmm…” They looked down, letting their arms slacken. “Hmm… mm-hmmm.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, attempting to make removing the tape as painless as possible, but it didn’t stop them from whimpering and crying with every rip.

It took several painful minutes until their hands were freed, and they immediately began prying at the muzzle still tightly locked around their mouth.

“Mmmfff!” Their eyes widened as they couldn’t loosen it. “Mmmm!”

“It’s not gonna come off, pretty thing,” a new voice at the door said.

They jumped and shrieked when they saw Gabriel at the door, immediately shifting over to Jordan and hiding behind him. Jordan looked back at them, seeing the terrified look plastered on their face, their eyes in shock.

“It’s ok, Gabriel’s just here to help!” he said, gently taking their right hand in theirs. “It’ll be ok.”

“Mmm!! Mmmnnnn!!! Mm-mmm!!!” They shook their head wildly.

“It’s ok, I’m not here to hurt you,” Gabriel said, approaching the two and holding out his hand, smiling warmly. “Let’s see if I can find some keys to get that off you, shall we?”

“Mmffff!!!” Tears pricked at their eyes, slipping down their muzzled cheeks, still shaking their head hard and backing away from both of them. They pried frantically at the muzzle with their right hand.

“Hey, don’t worry, I’ll come with you, it’ll be fine,” Jordan said, placing his arm around their shoulders. “You’ll be fine.”

“Mmm!” They sobbed, wrapping their arms around themselves as they were led out.

They stumbled down the hallways, sniffling and sobbing in terror as all three of them reached the doors to the dungeon. They trembled behind Jordan as Gabriel opened the door and gestured for them to enter in first. Jordan gave him a smile and slid in, just in time for Gabriel to slam his head into the side of the doorframe, knocking him out cold.

[rule-masochism]

domestic whump kissies!! whumper just shutting whumpee tf up with a rough kiss on the lips bc the only thing their mouth is good for is to service whumper!!!

[iwritewhump]

"You're not supposed to be here, you have to leave now!" + unexpected visitor + caretaker turned (accidental) whumper

day 26 of @whumptember

376 words

warnings: implied nsfw, abusive relationship

a/n: i changed the prompts a bit, so you're just gonna have to work with me

---

Hero ignores the voice in the back of his head telling him to turn back. To go back home to Lover and wait for Villain to reach out. But, even with Villain’s letter, something didn’t seem right. And Hero would get to the bottom of it. 

He pulls Villain’s door open and steps inside, wrinkling his nose at the smell. “Villain?” he calls out, craning his neck past the entryway. “It’s just me, I wanted to check on you.” 

Quickly, she appears in her bedroom doorway. “You’re not supposed to be here, what are you doing? You should leave.” she presses her cheek against the doorframe, “Now.”

His eyebrows knit together and he bites his cheek, “Are you sure? I can-”

“Nope, you can go! I know how much Lover loathes for you to be here with me,” she says, drawing the words out to mock Lover.

Hero smiles gently and nods, “Alright, but tell me if you need anything, alright? I know you and Supervillain don’t get along the best. How’s that going, by the way? I know he’s in town.” 

“Oh, I get it.” she chuckles, “I’m not giving you anything on him, sorry. You can leave, I’ll reach out if I need anything. Promise.” 

She forces a smile and waits for him to close the door before sliding down the door frame in relief. 

“What was that about?” Supervillain asks, pulling Villain back into her room. “We don’t get along?” 

She laughs nervously and pulls her arm back to her side, “I have to make him think that we’re not close so he tells me his plans. Of course we get along,” she swallows thickly and kisses his cheek, “I love you.” 

He hums, a deep vibration in his throat and presses a kiss to her temple, “Good to hear.” He takes a handful of her hair and pulls her head back, “Because if I find out you’re working with him, I will kill you.” 

She clears her throat and nods, “I know, I’m playing him, I swear.” 

He tugs her down quickly and releases her, sending her falling to the ground. “I’m happy to hear it. Because if you’re planning anything…” 

“I know,” she hurries. “I’m not, I only work with you.”

[crimson-wrld]

👀

Thanks for the ask!! (And also all the likes the other day lol)

So heres my millionth forced to watch piece, what can I say I love it so much. Fair warning, this is a wip to an NSFW piece, however since it is a wip, nothing nsfw actually happens, but just to be safe im going to say its implied.

In this drabble I had wanted to try something new with a deaf whumpee, and while I was editing the spelling mistakes to make it legible, i really wanted to finish it haha.

CW: implied nsfwhump, deaf whumpee, guns, home invasion, death threats

Caretaker stumbled slightly into the hallway, not bothering to turn on the light. Whatever had willed him to wake up at three in the morning for no good reason was surely going to make him pay at work later.

It was probably going to take him forever to fall back to sleep... He grabbed a glass from the cupboard in the kitchen, rubbing his eyes with his other hand.

He was so groggy he didn't notice the broken glass on the floor by the entryway, nor did he recognize the light footsteps behind him as he filled his cup in the fridge door.

Suddenly, an arm snaked around his waist and tugged him back hard into a stiff chest. He blindly swung his arm backward as the body holding him twisted him around to face two masked figures. 

“Slow it down big guy,” One of the intruders spoke, voice deep and calm, his gun pointed straight at Caretaker's face. At the same time, he feels the barrel of another gun at the back of his head.

He is definitely awake now.

"I don't have much money… I'll give you all I have," Caretaker says slowly, unsure of what to do. There's at least three guys, and they're all armed.

They ignore him and instead the man holding him asks a question, "Got anyone else in the house big guy?"

Caretaker slowly shakes his head. His boyfriend is upstairs, sleeping in their bed, and he's a deep sleeper. If they stay down here…

"You didn't seem too confident in that answer," Whumper 1- seemingly the leader of the group- says, looking back at his buddies before continuing, "How about we check for ourselves?"

Shit.

He can feel his palms begin to sweat. Fighting back right now isn't even an option, and he couldn't even think of a way to keep them from going upstairs. 

Whumper 3 shoved him forward, keeping hold on him as they all walked toward the hallway.

"Dont try anything stupid now," Whumper 2 said, slowly leading everyone upstairs.

Caretaker's legs felt like jelly, but Whumper 3's gun to his head forced him to press on. Even if he wanted to try to warn his boyfriend, or make a distraction, it wouldn't matter.

They reached the top, and came to the first door in the hall, cracked open slightly-- because Caretaker had thought he would be right back-- and he was, just not in the way he'd expected.

Soft snores could be heard from inside, and Caretaker's heart pounded when the main intruder's eyes met his.

He could only see the man's eyes and mouth underneath his ski mask. Somehow, that seemed scarier to Caretaker. The man's eyes are a deep green, not an ounce of remorse to be found in them. 

"Looks like the big guy lied to us," Whumper 1 says quietly, holding his stare to Caretaker's fearful eyes, "Go on in then."

Whumper 3 pushes him forward toward the door. He raises his shaking hand to the knob, pushing it open with a loud creak. His boyfriend doesn't stir.

He lays in their bed, curly brown hair a mess on his head, button nose dusted with freckles and his plump lips slightly parted. Caretaker looks at him, sweat beading down his forehead as the intruders enter the room behind him.

"Please, you can have whatever you guys want… I haven't seen your faces; I won't tell,'' Caretaker says, voice slightly shaking now, gaze never leaving his innocent boy, "Just leave us alone,"

"What, you dont wanna share?" Whumper 1 chuckles, walking further into the room so he can look at Caretaker from beside the bed. His hand travels to lightly rest on the small of Whumpee's back. "Besides, we ain't here for money…"

A heavy breath escapes from Caretaker's nose as his eyes widen. He stands, frozen still, with the cold steel barrel still at the back of his head. 

"Please," he whispers, the next words coming out more like a whimper, "Just not him..."

He was supposed to protect Whumpee.

"How about you keep quiet now." Whumper 1 remarks.

The deep voice of the man behind him leans into his ear to speak, "Talk anymore and we'll put a bullet in his head, let you watch him bleed out, then put one in yours," Whumper 3 warns. Caretaker looks up, squeezes his eyes shut and tries to will away the tears trying to fall. He could at least try to be strong for Whumpee.

Whumper 3 shakes him, causing his eyes to snap open as he gasps. "Got it?" The man grunts. Caretaker nods his head stiffly.

Whumper 1 stands over the sleeping figure, takes a hand and caresses down his face. Whumpee shifts, turns his head, makes the slightest little mumbled noise. Whumper 1 looks to Caretaker and smirks.

"Must be a heavy sleeper," he says. He trails his hand down, lower, to his neck, wraps it around the throat, and squeezes.

Caretaker lunges forward- tries to anyways- but the arm around his waist pulls him back, the hand holding the gun swings around to push under his chin and the man pulls him flush against his chest.

Whumpee's eyes snap open, struck with fear at the stranger above him. His arms fly to claw at the hand obstructing his breath. 

"C-aretaker?!" He squeaks out, eyes searching frantically around the dark room. He only sees silhouettes.

The cold steel of the gun presses against Caretaker's adams apple, a silent threat telling him again not to talk.

"Beg me to stop," Whumper 1 says to the struggling body underneath him, "Cmon baby, use your voice and beg."

Caretaker pulls out again, nearly falling to his knees struggling against the guy holding him.

"Stop!" He yells, "He can't hear you! He's- he's deaf goddamnit!" Caretaker sobs, hands clawing at the arms around him.

Whumper 1 finally lets go, allowing Whumpee to roll and fall off of the bed. He breaks into a coughing fit, one arm pulling up to rub at his throat.

"Oh? Deaf you say?" Whumper 1 asks.

Whumper 2 claps their hands together loudly, the crumpled figure on the floor doesn't do so much as flinch.

"That sure makes things interesting."