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dismemberment-on-a-tuesday-night · 6 months

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Eden part twenty-two

TW: stockholm syndrome, religion, referenced murder, referenced kidnapping, pet whumpee, creep/intimate whumper

Note: After nearly abandoning this story multiple times, I've finally finished it. I hope you all have enjoyed yourself reading this far.

The drive home was a long one. Try as he might, Ezra couldn't convince himself to feel anything but joyful.

Reasonable emotions, befitting of a real person, refused to be sown in the garden of his heart. He was too far gone for that.

The music playing from Christopher's car radio was much the same that played in their house, and Ezra recognized it as Tchaikovsky. Funny, how a month ago he wouldn't have known Bach from Mozart.

"I love you," Christopher said, as though Ezra could possibly forget.

"I love you too." Ezra stared at the fields rushing past the passenger side window, blurs of winter tinted whites and grays. "Thank you for bringing me home."

"I wouldn't have dreamed of leaving you."

Christopher drove like any man who learned in the eighties, with one hand over the steering wheel and the other relaxed as his side. Ezra had learned a far different position, requiring both hands on the wheel, but took advantage of their difference in education to hold Christopher's hand.

"I may have told my roommates your name," Ezra admitted. "That was so fucking stupid of me. They don't know where you live though. And neither of them have the brain cells to file a missing person case."

"I know half the sheriff's department personally," Christopher assured him. "They won't suspect me. And even if they find you, I have no doubt that you'll vouch for my innocence. It isn't a concern."

"Thank God." Of course Christopher knew how to handle things. There wasn't any need for Ezra to worry. "I couldn't live with myself if I got you in trouble for the… um, stalking and kidnapping and murder."

Christopher laughed, much quieter than Ezra, who broke into mild hysterics. What a life. What a life.

After he had calmed himself, Ezra texted his friends goodbye. It was a hard thing to write, but he couldn't leave them hanging again. At the end of his message, he thanked them for all the good times they had together, and promised to stay safe.

Pressing send was far more difficult than he had anticipated. But finally it was over. He threw his phone out the window so it couldn't be tracked, hoping it didn't pollute anything too much.

Ezra smiled at Christopher, wishing for a shorter drive home. He wanted nothing more in the world to cuddle in bed, and never have to get up again. Holding hands during a car ride wasn't nearly enough.

"I missed your smile," Christopher said. "You're so… handsome."

This was the first time anyone had bothered saying such a thing to Ezra, and it took him a moment to process his joy before responding.

"Is that all you missed?" he teased. "And here I thought I was good company."

"Of course not. I got so horribly lonely without you. I'm afraid adopting a cat wasn't a very good substitute for human company."

"You got a cat?"

Ezra knew better than to be jealous, but he wasn't pleased that Christopher had tried to replace him. Sure, it had been his choice to run away in the first place. But that didn't mean that Christopher just got to move on with his life. No. Absolutely not.

"Her name is Gale. I found her catching mice in my garden. She's a bit feral, but a sweet little thing."

"My grandparents used to have cats. It's a Muslim thing, I think. Because they're such clean animals. They were always fostering half a dozen cats at a time and encouraging the people at our local mosque to adopt them. Man, I haven't thought about that in years."

"My family had a lot of animals growing up. Farm animals, mostly. Chickens, hogs, turkeys, sheep, honey bees, all the usual suspects. But a lot of the barn cats and herding dogs were quite friendly."

"I didn't know you grew up on a farm. That sounds really nice. My family always lived in small towns."

"We moved around a lot. I spent my younger years in Moscow, Idaho, among other towns, and finally settled down during my teenage and young adult years on farmland my parents bought. I think my younger siblings were harder to herd than our cats and roosters."

Ezra laughed softly to himself. How, in all their weeks of knowing each other, had he never asked Christopher about his childhood?

The numerous gaps in his knowledge of Christopher's life had never bothered him before this moment. But now he wanted to know everything.

"When did we get so casual?" Ezra asked. "This feels so… different."

"I prefer it." Christopher slowed his car to allow a white tail deer to dart across the road without being hit. "You mean a lot to me. I want you to be happy."

Ezra blinked a few stray tears from his eyes. "You're the only one. I guess you know that, but it's still hard. I wish I had known you for years, instead of just this winter. My life would have gone so much better."

Christopher squeezed Ezra's hand, taking his eyes off the road for a moment. "You're worth everything I could ever give you. I just wish I knew what would make you happy."

"You make me happy. I've never felt better than when I'm with you. I never knew what I wanted from life. Just surviving was nearly impossible. Now I can actually want things. Like warm meals and a cozy bed and lavender tea. Thank you, for everything."

Christopher pulled into his driveway and parked his car. The moment they stepped out of the car, Ezra fell into Christopher's arms, just as he had done so many times before.

It was a welcoming sensation, a sense of security buried within the lack of freedom. Guilt from running away finally melted off Ezra's soul, leaving him to enjoy his life.

When they walked inside, a silver tabby darted up to rub against Christopher's legs. He scratched her behind the ears and left his shoes by the door. Ezra followed his example in both actions.

"Hello Gale," Ezra said softly. "You're a cute little thing, aren't you?"

"I'll start on lunch," Christopher said. "Get settled down."

Ezra wandered through their home, leaving Christopher and Gale alone in the kitchen. Everything was so familiar, the oil paintings hanging on the walls and soft carpet under his feet exactly how he remembered.

But it felt so wrong, seeing the places Jay used to hang around, and knowing he would never see them again. They had sat on the sofa, trusting him to put his arm around their shoulder even after all that torture. It was enough to bring him to tears.

Finally, after all these days of denial and trauma dumping to his roommates, he could process what had happened. Jay was in a better place now. They had to be. Even if Heaven wasn't real, something had to be.

Lunch with Christopher was nice, despite Ezra's melancholy. Even if Jay couldn't have a happily ever after in life, he still could. And he knew they would have been happy for him, in the end.

He finished most of his salad, and let Gale lick his plate clean. Christopher clicked his tongue, but held back on chastising him.

"I want to read Paradiso now," Ezra said. "I know that would be skipping Purgatorio, but I'm in the mood for a tour of Heaven."

"Alright. We can always take a tour of purgatory later. Whatever makes you happy."

Christopher found a leather bound copy of Dante's Paradiso on his bookshelf and sat down beside Ezra on the sofa. His living room smelled more strongly of lavender than the rest of his home, an ornate oil diffuser sitting on the coffee table.

Ezra leaned against Christopher as he started reading. Gale tried to jump on the open book for attention, but settled down on Ezra's lap when Christopher nudged her off.

"The glory of Him, who moves all things, penetrates the universe, and glows in one region more, in another less," Christopher read. "I have been in that Heaven that knows His light most, and have seen things, which whoever descends from there has neither power, nor knowledge, to relate: because as our intellect draws near to its desire, it reaches such depths that memory cannot go back along the track."

Ezra closed his eyes, grounding himself in reality with the aid of fantasy. He had thought, during their reading so long ago, that Hell must smell of lavender. But now he knew that Heaven was much the same.

Unlike Dante in this fictional account of his travels, Ezra would never have to return to earth. He would stay here. In Hell. In Heaven. In Purgatory. Guided not by an ancient poet, but by a kind man who wanted nothing more than to keep him safe.

Blissful eternity had reached them both far before their death. If only Colt and Jay had been half as lucky.

Taglist: @hugh-lauries-bald-spot @thedarkmongoose @whumpsday @whump-by-robin @kira-the-whump-enthusiast @annablogsposts @whumpshaped @seetheothersideofparadise @knittedeyebrowsandcardigans @whatwasmyprevioususername @boonasaurusrex @suspicious-whumping-egg @heavenlyeden @melancholy-in-the-morning @snakebites-and-ink @suck-my-clit-loser @i-eat-worlds @scp-1296 @chiswhumpcorner @skittles-the-whumpee @whumpkinz @dokidokisadness @enbygesserit @canislycaon24 @be-gay-do-crime-ahaha @a-crumb-of-whump @pixelated-whump @whumpytine

#Abraham original: Hot off the press #Whump #Eden #Pet whump #Whump writing #Whump series #Stockholm Syndrome whump #Final chapter #Pet whumpee #Creepy/intimate whumper #Recapture

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jordanstrophe · 2 years

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CW: Kidnapping, used as a bargaining chip, some stockholm syndrome

Whumper has no interest in whumpee, their whole motive is dealing as much emotional damage to caretaker as they can.

And what better way to do that then to steal their most beloved thing.

They don’t harm whumpee, they just keep them safe and locked away. But as time goes on, whumper gets restless and starts making frequent trips just to talk to them.

Whumper starts to bond with whumpee, and whumpee bonds back when they get hopeless that caretaker will even come for them.

#whump #whumpee #whumper #caretaker #whump angst #whump prompt #kidnapping whump #kidnapping prompt #whumpee bonding with whumper #whump scenario #stockholm syndrome whump #tw stockholm syndrome #whumper x whumpee #kidnapped for ransom

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raven-fucks-around-and-writes · 2 months

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Pitch black surrounded Whumper as he woke up in the basement.

The blindfold was gently pressed on his closed eyes, and his wrist were bound above his head. He had no clue as to where he was, except for the metal door that scraped against the concrete ground.

fear pricked the back of his mind, memories from the things he's done in the past flooding his head as he waited to see who his captor is. except this time, he was the one at someone elses mercy. for the first time in his life, he was the one who was scared.

"Hello?" his voice felt loud in the deafening silence, panic growing in his mind.

Whumper was at his last whim until he heard the door open again, footsteps approaching. "Who.. are you? tell me where I fucking am."

"You know exactly who I am, master!" a cheery and familiar voice rang out.

The blindfold was removed as whumper found himself staring into the face of whumpee — someone he held captive oh so long ago

"You missed me a lot, didn't you? i definitely couldn't stand being apart from you."

A chill went down his spine at the disturbing tone of their voice. They weren't here for revenge. They missed whumper so fucking much

Whumpee approached the bound whumper, softly running their fingers through his hair.

"We'll be together soon, whumper." They purred in his ear despite his jerking away.

"Just relax and I'll take care of everything."

#stockholm syndrome whump #whumper turned whumpee #whumpee turned whumper #my wribting #basement whump #whumpblr #whump #crazy whumpee #sensory deprivation #kidnapping whump #obsessive whumpee #conditioned whumpee #ig?

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justbreakonme · 2 months

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Whumper that treats pet whumpee like a lapdog meets whumpee who had lived their whole life touchstarved and hated equals the most toxic but enjoyable relationship either had ever had.

Whumper likes how whumpee leans into their touch, the way they panic when they leave the room.

Whumpee relishes the “best” treatment they’ve ever had, and chalks up the overly close and possessive nature of it to love.

#been loving this idea lately #whump #whumpee #whumper #whump dynamics #pet whump #whump prompt #toxic relationship #whump scenario #whump prompts #pet whumpee #stockholm syndrome #kinda

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whump-queen · 1 month

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sabotage

a carewhumper who’s constantly engineering situations for whumpee to need them, to run to them crying, to fall to their knees, broken and shattered and so easy to convince that all they need is whumper.

- slashing their tire so they’ll have to call whumper for a ride

- paying dudes to go rob and beat them up so they’ll be bloody and broken and weak and whumper can happen to ‘stumble upon them’ since they were just in the neighborhood…

- sabotaging whumpee’s finances (stealing their rent checks, running up their credit cards) to get them kicked out of whatever meager housing they’ve managed to rent. make them destitute. desperate. and all whumper has to do is waltz in with open arms, maybe a warm coat, and an offer whumpee can’t afford to refuse.

whumpee just doesn’t know why these things keep happening to them. whumper doesn’t help of course; their every word implies it was all whumpee’s fault. that maybe if they weren’t so careless and reckless with these things, maybe they—

no, whumper should just take care of these things for whumpee from now on. that’s what’s best, since whumpee has clearly proven they aren’t responsible enough to manage money, or shopping, let alone a job or really any human responsibilities.

after all, whumpee’s just a broken thing, and only whumper can put them back together.

only whumper will let them break down. only whumper can make them safe. only whumper can hold them close, warm, and just let whumpee collapse into their arms and sob against their neck until they finally drift to sleep.

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icamefromthepinterestscreenshots · 2 months

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Whumpee who, when rescued, doesn't want anything bad to happen to whumper.

Whumper who's in prison, on death row or being tortured by whumpees team.

Whumpee who keeps begging for people to be nice to whumper, to not torture them, to not kill them, to just leave them alone in a cell.

Whumpee who is so scared that they'll do anything even slightly bad and become like whumper, or become the living weapon whumper had wanted them to be, that they'd rather nothing happen to the person that had tortured them for months.

Because if something bad happened to whumper, it would be whumpees fault. And they couldn't live with that.

#and everyone thinks whumpee has Stockholm syndrome #but they dont #theyre just terrified of becoming the person they feared #whump writing #whump #caretaker #whumpee #fyp #rescued whumpee #stockholm syndrome #whumper #whump prompt #pet whump #whump tropes

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whump-bunny · 4 months

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About a month after being kidnapped, Whumpee… isn't doing well. They're not broken or catatonic, or even particularly depressed. They still daydream about escape, not that they've actually tried anything since the first week or so. They learned quickly that Whumper won't hesitate to make their life a living hell if they feel they need to. And as much as it hurts, Whumpee knows they can't try anything unless they're absolutely positive it will work. Failure is not an option.

But… spending a month with only having Whumper to talk to is starting to take its toll.

Whumper is clearly lonely, and they get frustrated when Whumpee refuses to speak to them, or at least acknowledge them. And though Whumpee would love to ignore them out of spite... loneliness is something they have in common.

So they chat. Whumper talks about their life on the outside. About annoying people at the coffee shop, their demanding boss, funny things they read in the news. And Whumpee talks about anything that won't make them cry. Which forbids topics like family, friends, aspirations, and generally anything else related to their life before Whumper.

Whumpee doesn't have a lot to talk about.

But Whumpee does like to write stories. So they ramble about half-formed plots and original characters. And strangely... Whumper is the first person in their life that seems genuinely interested in what they have to say.

#whumpee #whumper #stockholm syndrome #lonely whumper #whump #writing

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rizzoto-whump · 8 months

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"Whumpee, tell me one thing, don’t you ever feel the desire for freedom?"

The question dumbfounded Whumpee. Freedom was an elusive concept to them, nearly mythical. Their eyes widened, and they responded in their usual naive way, "Freedom? What could be better than being here, serving you?"

Interested in Whumpee's thought process, Whumper probed further, "Surely, you don't want to be serving me forever? What about your dreams, Whumpee?"

"Dreams, Whumper… are for free men."

#whump #whump prompt #pet whump #conditioning #conditioned whumpee #whumpee x whumper #slavery whump #captivity whump #stockholm syndrome whump #slave whumpee #guilty whumper #whump scenario #whump tropes #carewhumper #bbu whump

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dismemberment-on-a-tuesday-night · 1 year

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Eden part seven

Masterlist linked in my pinned

TW: Stockholm Syndrome, brief implied transphobia, captivity, injury, blood, referenced torture, nonsexual nudity, multiple whumpers, multiple whumpees, creepy/intimate whumper, sadistic whumper, pet whumpee, whumpee turned caretaker

"Ezra," Christopher called. "I need to speak with you."

Ezra hurried after the sound of Christopher's voice, finding him stirring a large metal pot in the kitchen.

Nearly two weeks had passed since they had met, yet Ezra still adored the sound of Christopher saying his name.

His real name, not the other one. That one was shoved away in a drawer, an unspoken secret between the two of them.

"My fiance Colt is coming over later today" Christopher said. "He is not the most punctual sort, so don't hold your breath for his arrival."

Christopher had mentioned Colt, of course. Sometimes leaving Ezra alone for a few hours to spend time with him. But Ezra had never expected to meet the man.

"He's rough around the edges," Christopher continued. "Please forgive any rudeness on his part. I love him dearly, but we really are a case of opposites attracting."

Whatever the opposite of Christopher was, Ezra didnt want to meet him. Christopher must be exaggerating, unless he was bringing the Devil himself over for tea.

"Yes sir," Ezra said. "If you don't mind my asking, why don't you live together? Are you planning on it after you get married?"

"No, we have very different life styles, and are content to live separately."

Christopher stirred the pot of stew he was cooking a few more times, then set his wooden spoon on the counter.

So, their peace would never be permanently disrupted. Ezra secretly rejoiced in this knowledge.

He and Christopher were so perfect by themselves. Christopher didn't need Colt, or anyone other than Ezra, anyway. It was only a matter of time before he realized that.

"I want you to get along with him," Christopher said. "Don't think I can't see the look on your face. Now is not a time for jealously."

"I'm not jealous sir," Ezra lied. "I'm happy that you're getting married. I'm just nervous about meeting another person. I'm used to it just being the two of us."

The pot on the stove boiled over, white foam rising over the edge and pouring onto the stove.

Christopher swiftly balanced his wooden spoon over it, reducing the bubbling significantly.

"We're going to have lunch or dinner together, depending on when he shows up. You will eat later, so don't think I've forgotten you."

"Yes sir."

Christopher turned the stove down so the stew could simmer. He turned and hugged Ezra, then held him at arms length, smiling warmly.

"Would you like some tea?"

Ezra knew the correct answer. "Yes sir." With a smile to match.

They sat then, in each other's company, cuddled up on their sofa drinking steaming lemon tea.

Christopher's house felt more like home to Ezra than any of his past houses or apartments ever had.

It seemed insane that he had ever resisted being kept here. It really was their own Eden, uninterrupted by the horrors of the outside world.

The loud sound of someone banging on the laundry room door rang out.

"Christopher!" a man, presumably Colt, shouted. "I'm here!"

Christopher sighed and walked to open the door. Ezra stayed perfectly still, listening to Christopher and Colt's conversation.

"What's up dollface?" Colt asked. "Did you miss me?"

"Terribly," Christopher said. "Excuse me, do not track mud in my house. Take those disgusting boots of yours off."

"Yeah yeah. I love you too."

"And your pet is filthy. Did you even try to clean them off?"

"I sprayed it down with a hose."

Pet? Ezra physically recoiled. Please be a dog. Please be a dog. Please be a dog.

"Have you done anything interesting lately?" Christopher asked.

"I finally got around to fixing up that old motor bike. She's a right beauty. I just need to finish the paint job then take her for a spin.

"That sounds like fun. Tell me how it goes."

"I will."

"Come on in."

Christopher walked into his living room with Colt just behind him.

Ezra immediately decided that he hated Colt.

His obnoxious slicked back hair and bad eye liner suited him perfectly, in the most derogatory sense. His worn out leather jacket was covered in the logos of various metal bands. His pants were more rips than leather, hugging his hips much too tightly.

He looked to be the sort of man who picked fights in bars for fun and prided himself in stealing other men's girlfriends.

"Ah," Colt said, fixing his gaze on Ezra. "So this is your new pet hmm?"

"His name is Ezra," Christopher said.

"You named it?"

"Him, dearest. And no, that was already his name."

"Your pet has a name and preffered pronouns?" Colt asked with a nasty sort of laugh.

"Precisely," Christopher answered.

Colt considered this. "Whatever makes you happy."

He looked around, suddenly realizing his pet hadn't followed him inside.

"Come on in you stupid mutt!" he hollered.

A person shambled into the room, stumbling every few steps. Their long hair was matted in all manner of filth and what looked too much like dried blood for Ezra's comfort.

Shredded clothing did little to cover their scarred body, covered in all manner of cuts, burns, and bruises. Their skeletal frame betrayed weeks without more than scraps to eat.

"They need cleaned up," Christopher complained. "They're getting my carpet dirty. And some of those wounds are festering."

Colt sighed, as though basic human dignity was very far beneath him.

"Fine dollface. That'll at least get our pets out of the way while we have some fun. I can smell the, what do you call it? Oh yeah, I can smell the borscht from in here."

How Colt could smell anything over the cloying scent of lavender was beyond Ezra.

"Ezra dear," Christopher said. "Can you take...this person and get them into the shower. I hope you don't mind them borrowing a pair of your pajamas."

"Of course sir." Ezra stood up, leaving his empty tea cup on the living room table. He gestured to the pathetic creature trembling in his livingroom. "Please follow me."

"You don't need to be nice you know," Colt complained. "Tell it what you want it to do. Then hit it if it refuses. Easy."

"I expect politeness from my pets," Christopher correct.

"Oh yes, well whatever." Colt made a shooing gesture at Ezra. "Off with you two then."

"Yes sir."

Ezra stood, and held out his hand. Colt's pet hesitated, before accepting it and allowing themself to be led down the hall and into the bathroom.

Ezra closed the door behind them and gestured for Colt's pet to sit on the ledge of the bathtub.

"What's your name? I'm Ezra."

They shook their head vigorously, matted hair falling over wide gray eyes.

"I'm not allowed to have one."

"Oh...is there anything I can call you then?"

"Master calls me mutt."

"I'm not gonna call you mutt. I used to get called that. I hated it. Christopher and Colt can't hear us in here, anyway. They have the record player on."

"You can-" They broke off, glancing around wildly, before dropping their volume significantly. "You can call me...a name?"

"Yeah, sure thing. What name?"

"Any. Just a name."

Ezra thought about this for a minute. How could this poor person not remember their own name? What in the nine rings of hell had Colt put them through?

"How about...Jay?"

"I like that one."

"And pronouns? Do you like she or he or they or it or something else?"

"Master calls me it. But yours called me they."

"What do you like?"

"I like...what you like?"

Ezra sighed. "Alright Jay, we can stick with they and them unless you decide you like something different."

Jay lit up, a cracked lipped smile reaching across their bloodied face. "Okay."

"Christopher wanted me to help you get cleaned up. Do you mind taking your clothes off? I have clean ones for after you're done showering."

Jay stripped imediately, finding nothing embarrassing about being exposed. Numberless scars littered the entirety of their body, all covered in a layer of dirt and dried blood.

Their back and chest bore poorly scabbed over wounds Ezra recognized as coming from a knife. Second and third degree burns stretched across large swaths of their limbs. The peeling blisters and charred black flesh almost hurt to look at. Dark purple bruises covered every piece of skin where nothing truly atrocious laid.

"What happened to you?" Ezra couldn't help but ask. "I have a first aid kit."

"Master likes beating me," Jay said, as though it were obvious. "It doesn't look like yours does. So I'm happy about that."

Christopher's words suddenly came rushing into Ezra's mind.

Oh, don't look at me like that. It isn't anything horrid. I'm not going to hurt you, unless you harm me or attempt escape. You should be grateful, really. I'm a lot kinder than most of the masters you could have gotten stuck with.

And you're so pretty too. I know a few men who would wear your face as a mask sooner than saying hello. No, no, you're much better off with me. I'll take care of that pretty face of yours.

Ezra loved Christopher, that much was certain. But he didn't understand why he would involve himself with someone capable of such brutality. Christopher deserved better than Colt, and so did Jay.

Ezra brought the water to a pleasantly warm temperature. Then he flipped on the shower head, already on its gentlest setting.

"Am I really allowed to?" Jay whispered.

"Yeah. Christopher said you had to. He likes to keep his house clean."

Jay relaxed, apparently satisfied with any reasoning outside of compassion. They stepped into the shower, and laughed with delight.

"Oh, that feels good," they said brightly.

Ezra handed them a towel and body wash.

"Thank you Ezra."

After Jay finished cleaning the dirt and dried blood from their body, Ezra handed them the shampoo.

They lathered it into their hair, and smiled as the built up grease and grime finally seeped down the drain.

Their skin, brilliantly red and raw, looked as though they had been partially flayed. But still this was improvement.

Drying off proved a challenge. Jay's skin was far too sensitive, they winced and even yelped at being touched by the towel.

"You can drip dry," Ezra offered.

Jay nodded. "Thank you. I don't know how I'm ever going to make this up to you."

"You can make it up to me by telling me about yourself while I clean your wounds out."

"Okay." Jay thought about Ezra's request as he pulled out the first aid kit. "I'm Colt's pet, but you already know that. I'm not a very good pet. He tells me so. That's why he hurts me, I can't just listen to him. And I don't know how to shut up."

Ezra poured rubbing alcohol over Jay's wounds. They hissed in pain, but stayed still. Ezra used alcohol drenched cotton swabs to clean out the stubborn dirt missed by the hot water.

"That sounds awful Jay. How long have you lived together?"

"I don't know," Jay said. "A long time. What about you? It must be nice, living with a master who keeps you clean."

Bandaging Jay's injuries took far more time than expected. They took up such awkward positions.

"Christopher is amazing. I love him, and he loves me. I wish you could stay here with us, but I don't think it's allowed."

"If we're good, I bet we can visit more. Your master sure has a nice house. It smells like flowers."

Ezra knelt down and rubbed burn salve onto Jay's legs. The texture made his skin crawl with unseen insects. It was truly disgusting, seeming like something out of a horror movie, not fit for real life.

Jay sighed with relief. "That feels amazing. Please keep going."

"I will," Ezra promised. "I want you to feel better."

"I've been thinking, about what you said," they whispered, almost inaudible. "I like being Jay. It's a nice name."

"You deserve to be happy."

Jay injuries were far too extensive to be completely cured with a bathroom first aid kit. But Ezra made do, putting the prevention of injection above all else. Even if he couldn't rid Jay of his pain, he could at least risk him of bacteria and what looked suspiciously like mold.

After pulling out a set of clothes, Ezra helped Jay into them. They clutched his arm, unable to balance themselves properly.

"It's okay," Ezra assured them. "I've got you."

Jay ran their hands over their shirt. "Wow," they breathed. "This is so soft."

"Do you want me to brush your hair?" Ezra asked.

"Yes please."

Large clumps of matted tangles pulled loose from Jay's hair as Ezra brushed it, causing Jay a great deal of pain despite Ezra's best effort to be gentle.

When Ezra was done, Jay looked almost normal. Most of their injuries laid beneath the blue cotton clothing, other than a few bruises their face.

"Thank you," Jay whispered, staring at their own reflection. "Is that really what I look like?"

"Yes." Ezra bit his lip, almost guilty for how he was treated when Jay had to suffer such torments. "Are you ready to go back to the livingroom?"

Jay nodded mutely. Ezra took them by their bandaged hand and led them back.

As soon as Ezra caught sight of Colt, he hated him the more for what he saw.

He and Christopher were necking, and Colt seemed to be trying his hardest to suffocate Christopher with his tongue. His hand clutched Christopher's hip, slid below his waist band.

Colt's leather jacket had been removed, revealing his arms, covered in tattoos of punk symbols and naked chicks.

Christopher pulled away from his fiance, his wire framed glasses slightly skewed. "Oh, hello dear Ezra. Are the two of you getting along?"

"Yes sir."

"You look nice," Colt said, sneering at Jay. "You're lucky I brought you. I hope you aren't getting too used to this."

"No I-" Jay broke off. "No master. Of course not."

"Run along and play," Christopher said. "Colt and I have a lot to talk about."

Ezra imediately took his leave, bringing Jay back to his bedroom. The closed door provided a level of privacy he usually disliked, but found appealing in this case.

"Let's take a nap," he suggested. "You look exhausted."

"You're allowed to have a bed?" Jay asked. "Why?"

"So...I can sleep by myself sometimes. Do you just sleep with Colt?"

"No. I sleep of the floor. It isn't that bad. I like playing with the mice. Most people think they're gross, but they're really sweet."

"Lay down," Ezra offered. "We can sleep together. And, if you want, we can cuddle."

Jay burst into tears. They crawled into bed, and Ezra covered the both of them in blankets.

"I'm dreaming, aren't I?" Jay asked. Another sob escaped their lips, and they buried their face in Ezra's pillow.

"No," Ezra said gently, rubbing Jay's back. "This is real life."

He wrapped both of his arms around Jay, keeping them close. He could feel sobs racking through their body, and their ceaseless shaking.

"Why are you being so nice to me?" Jay asked. "Oh no, I'm sorry. I don't mean to be rude. I promise."

"You're okay," Ezra whispered. "I'm being nice because...because you're a person."

"I forgot that." Jay sniffled. "After a while. Everything hurts."

"Sleep. It'll help you feel better. At least a little bit."

"I have nightmares."

"I'll wake you up if you do."

Jay didn't answer. After a few minutes, Ezra heard them softly snoring. He closed his eyes, and allowed sleep to take him, hoping Jay would still be there when he woke up.

Taglist: @devourerofcheesecake @elim-flower @thedarkmongoose @whumpsday @whump-by-robin @kira-the-whump-enthusiast @annablogsposts @whumpshaped @seetheothersideofparadise @knittedeyebrowsandcardigans @whatwasmyprevioususername @boonasaurusrex

If you want to be added to or removed from the taglist, please tell me.

#Whump #Eden #Pet whumpee #stockholm syndrome whump #Creepy/intimate whumper #Sadistic whumper #Whumpblr #Writing #Writblr

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astrowhump · 9 months

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Give me whumpers who do absolutely horrid things to their whumpee, with no follow-up comfort; But god forbid someone else tries to hurt whumpee—even worse, they try to steal whumpee away—that’s when whumper will burn the whole town down to rescue their beloved whumpee, only to drag them back into that old familiar basement.

“No one else gets to make you scream. No one. You will kneel at my feet, beg for my mercy. You’ll cry your sweet tears for me and only me.”

Bonus point if whumpee has stockholm syndrome.

#whump #one of my old drafts that never made it out #pet whump #conditioned whumpee #stockholm syndrome #whump writing #whump prompt #whump things #whump ideas #whump scenarios #intimate whumper #creepy whumper #whump community #defiant whumpee #whumper #whump drabble #whumpee #caretaker #whump stuff

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painsandconfusion · 10 months

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Forced Comfort

Because who doesn't like a little bit of intimate whumper vibes?

[Prompt Masterpost]

Whumpee wrapped up in a blanket. The soft fabric hides the fact that their hands are still bound behind their back.

Gentle fingers brushing the hair from Whumpee’s face - carefully peeling it back through the sheen of sweat that’s left.

“Shhh…you’re okay. I’m not gonna hurt you anymore..”

Kissing tears from the corners of Whumpee’s eyes.

Whumper keeping Whumpee sedated between sessions to 'help them cope'.

“Hold still- hold still or I’ll start again.”

Pinning a squirming Whumpee in an embrace. Grip tightening the more they struggle.

Whumpee being so tired. So so so very tired. They can’t help but lean into the gentle touch.

Whumper ignoring every shiver and twitch that accompanies the gentle pets they give their broken toy.

“Nnnnono-sst…d-on’ t ouchme-!”

Whumpee thrashing to the point of hyperventilation as Whumper wraps them up in blankets. The panic in their eyes ever so slowly fading as they realize they’re not being hurt anymore.

Whumpee desperately not trying to lean into it or accept the comfort. They don’t want it from them - don’t want to melt into the hands that ripped screams from them just a few minute before. But they need something. And Whumper knows it.

“Look at you. Pathetic little thing~”

Shoving Whumpee into a bath to trigger some kind of calming response. Whumpee just thinks they’re going to be drowned. …….maybe they will be. Just a little bit.

Whumper combing a hand through Whumpee’s hair - soft and rhythmic and sweet - as they carve into Whumpee.

“Shhh..just focus on me. Don’t look at it- just look at me. Listen to my voice. You’re doing so good, little one.”

Kisses peppering over Whumpee’s cheeks, lips, forehead, brows, jaw, etc as their face puckers up, trying to twist away.

A hug that looks gentle until you notice Whumper’s hand fisted in Whumpee’s hair. Keeping them exactly in place.

“Don’ don t t-ouch me- STOP-”

Drugging Whumpee to ‘help with the nerves’. Watching their panicked sobs slowly peter out into nothing as they stare miserably at their captor.

“Make the most of this. We start again in the morning.”

[Prompt Masterpost]

(tags: @prisonerwhump @whumpawink @mabledonut @happy-little-sadist @paleassprince @distinctlywhumpthing @wibbly-wobbly-whump @batfacedliar-yetagain @suspicious-whumping-egg @wormwriting @villainsvictim @throwawaywhumper @wild-selenite-caffine @whumpasaurus101 @thecitythatdoesntsleep @whumpworld @pinkieglitterheart @whumpberry-cookie @rainbows-and-whumperflies @a-galactic-fox @shywhumpauthor @cyberneticwhump @bumpwhump @hold-back-on-the-comfort @veyroswin @whumping-seven-days-a-week @whumpingisfun @suffering-and-misery @definitely-not-a-seagull-i-swear @yetanotheraltwhumpblog @whump-queen @a-whumped-tea @whumpsday @sonder35 @scribbelle)

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

#torture #blood #forced comfort #intimate whumper #noncon touch #noncon kiss #drugging #prompt list #whump prompts #whump tropes #whump #conditioned whumpee #conditioning #good old stockholm syndrome sets in

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whumpshaped · 4 months

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been spinning this idea around in the microwave that is my brain for a while now.

pet/slave/etc whumpee being rescued, seemingly improving and going along with what caretaker asks of them, and then immediately bolting and returning to their master the moment they get the chance.

they feel sorta bad for caretaker, but ultimately where they belong is at their master's side. whumpee's life was miserable and empty before they found them, but with master they were fed, had a warm place to sleep, and were shown more affection than they'd ever experienced before.

whumper, who in this specific scenario is more like a carewhumper/soft whumper, wanting to keep whumpee as their pet/slave but otherwise not being cruel to them, is of course elated to have whumpee back, lavishing them with praise and love and affection, further cementing in whumpee's mind that this is where they belong.

tw pet whump, conditioned whumpee, stockholm syndrome, caretaker new master, betrayal, abandonment

When Whumpee caught a glimpse of the article, it was like colour had suddenly returned into their world. Like the storm clouds had parted and finally allowed the sun to shine through, making all their worries and sadness dissipate.

All charges dropped.

Caretaker seemed to have the opposite reaction, throwing the newspaper across the room and groaning in frustration. Whumpee flinched, alerting them to their presence. “Oh, shit… Whumpee, I’m sorry. I didn’t– fuck, did you see the article?”

Whumpee suppressed their eagerness and slowly nodded, attempting to keep their expression neutral. Whatever Caretaker had interpreted it as, it made them open their arms for a hug.

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart. Would you like a hug? Or… or would you like to talk about it?”

Oh, they wanted to talk about it more than anything, but they doubted what they had to say would’ve been to Caretaker’s liking. They accepted the hug anyway, holding their temporary owner tight for what was probably the last time.

“You did your best,” Caretaker whispered. “I’m so sorry that… that they’re a bunch of incompetent idiots there! You gave all that evidence, all those testimonies… I don’t get it… I’m so sorry.”

“Let’s not talk about it?” Whumpee hoped that was a reasonable request. They hated hearing about all the ways in which they’d betrayed Whumper, but they hoped their reasoning wouldn’t be readily apparent.

“Of course. I’m sorry. I got carried away.” Caretaker took a deep breath, then exhaled slowly, and Whumpee had the feeling this hug was more for their friend than it was for them. “You wanna do something tonight? As a little distraction? We could make those new cookies you found a recipe for. Or watch a movie.”

Whumpee pulled away so they could look Caretaker in the eye. “Would you mind if… if I went for a little walk?”

Caretaker hesitated. “Can it be another time?” they asked cautiously. “I don’t like putting restrictions on you, I really don’t, it’s just…”

“Okay,” they said without knowing what Caretaker was going to say. “Another time.”

They could seek out Whumper any time, right? The sooner the better, but they didn’t need Caretaker following them.

“I’m a little nervous about letting you out of my sight after news like this,” they finished anyway.

“Okay,” Whumpee repeated.

“You’re not mad?”

“Of course not.”

Caretaker smiled and pulled them in for another hug. “Alright. Thank you.”

It was two days later when Caretaker finally let them go. It was honestly a little heartbreaking to know they would never go back, but… It couldn’t even compare to that time the police had swarmed the building and took Whumper away from them.

Whumper had been their everything. Their best friend. Their owner. The only one who cared. The one who had always provided for them, food, shelter, love. It didn’t matter what others had told them — they had to get back. And now that Whumper was finally let go, they could.

They kept looking over their shoulder, hoping Caretaker really wasn’t following them. They weren’t. They were left to their own devices, and they were about to betray every morsel of trust Caretaker had placed in them.

It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered outside of getting back to Whumper. Whumper was the only one whose trust counted for anything.

They rushed back to the house they’d used to stay in, and the ugly police tape was finally gone. It looked just like the first time they’d seen it: friendly and inviting.

Whumpee walked up to the door and knocked before their anxiety could’ve gotten the better of them. They stepped back and waited, rocking back and forth on their feet, shifting their weight from heels to tiptoes.

The garden seemed a little neglected, but it looked like Whumper had gotten to work since their release. There were fresh seeds in the bird feeder, and fresh water in the bowl they used for any stray creature that might’ve needed a sip. They were so caring. It was ridiculous that any investigation had even been conducted.

The door opened, and Whumpee’s eyes snapped up to meet their owner’s. They jumped into their arms without thinking, burying their face in the crook of their neck. “Master, you’re free!” they exclaimed, delighted when Whumper’s arms closed around their waist.

“I’m free!” Whumper parroted, just as giddy as their pet. “And you’re back!”

“Of course I am! I missed you so much!”

Whumper brought them inside without letting go, pushing the door shut with their foot. “I missed you too, sweet thing. I’m not quite packed yet, but now that you’re here, I’ll try to make it quick so we can leave tomorrow.”

Whumpee pulled away, frowning a little. “Leave?”

“Of course. They’d never leave us alone if we were to stay; not the police, and definitely not Caretaker.” Whumper moved their hands to cup their pet’s cheeks, smiling at them softly. “We’ll go somewhere peaceful, hm?”

Well… When they’d left the house and told themself it’d be forever, that they’d never see Caretaker again, that they were ready to leave all of this behind… They didn’t think it’d be so permanent. So irreversible.

They didn’t think they’d have to leave Caretaker so far behind.

Some of the cookies they’d baked the night before were still waiting for them at home, soft and sweet and tasting of friendship.

“I’d love that,” Whumpee said with a smile of their own. “We can go whenever you’re ready, Master.”

#asks #whump #whump drabble #pet whump #conditioned whumpee #stockholm syndrome #caretaker new master #betrayal #abandonment

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