REBLOG IF IT'S OKAY FOR ME TO BOTHER YOU IF YOU'RE MY MUTUAL

REBLOG IF IT'S OKAY FOR ME TO BOTHER YOU IF YOU'RE MY MUTUAL

y’all expose yourselves and take this fanfic test i was just forced to by an irl so now i’m making you too

“Get on the floor.”

Their knees meet the floor with a soft thump-thump. They are clothed, and their basic needs have been met: they aren’t painfully hungry, aren’t exhausted, don’t need to use the restroom, don’t feel close to passing out. Their latest, more gruesome injuries have been healed with magic, leaving little trace that they were tortured at all.

There is still a tremor to their hands anyway.

A large, calloused hand scrapes against their scalp. His fingers comb through soft, limp hair that no longer holds light curls, but heavy, dull waves.

They see it coming, but Quinn still gasps when the hand balls into a fist to grip their hair tight and force their head back.

The Hunter smiles down on them.

“Talk.”

Quinn blinks. “…Talk?”

“Yes. Talk. Speak on command. Tell me what you’re thinking, handsome.”

Keep reading

Content: Whumper-turned-whumpee, begging, bad caretaker, near death experience, restraints.

"After all they've done to you, you still wish to save them?"

"Yes," Whumpee whispered. They glanced over at Whumper; the pathetic excuse of a human curled up at Caretaker's feet and made another attempt to release themself from their restraints. "Please! They're doing better. They're not hurting anyone anymore. Please let them go."

Caretaker thought for a moment, using the toe of their shoe to tilt Whumper's head up so they were looking at each other more directly. "People like this don't change, Whumpee. If they did it once, they sure as hell can do it again."

"Whumper is living proof that they can change," Whumpee insisted with a small sob. "I know you've had your share of bad experiences, but this is mine and I should get to choose how to handle it! Please! Let them go!"

Their heart practically shattered when Whumper struggled to grasp a decent breath of air. "I'm okay with dying," they rasped. "Somehow, I have earned Whumpee's forgiveness and proven that I am very, truly sorry for the pain I've caused. That is all I wanted. If this really is my fate, then I am ready. Just... please be kind to Whumpee."

"I will never forgive you if you kill them," Whumpee hissed, their voice seeping with desperation. "You- you're the one who has me chained while you threaten to kill someone I care about! You're the only person here who is causing me pain! Not them!"

For a moment, Whumpee thought Caretaker wasn't listening to them. They saw them dig the heel of their boot into Whumper's head, pressing their face into the ground, before they gave them a rough kick and groaned irritably.

"Fuck's sake," they muttered. "Fine. If this is truly what you want, then I won't stop you."

They dropped the key to the chains by Whumper's side crouched down to be closer to them. "Here. If I find out that you've hurt them in any way, so help me God, I will kill you. Do you understand me?"

"Yes, sir," Whumper practically wheezed, still hunched over due to the pain radiating from their stomach. "I wouldn't ever hurt them. A-again, I mean."

casting a spell of finish your wip rb to pass it on

tiny’s first whump

h-hello, pls have my very much nothing really happens but kinda something still happens whump drabble??

thanks to @a-crumb-of-whump for encouragement! imma try to tw/cw this properly but gimme a shout if i need to add something ^^ tw/cw: whumped caretaker, whumpee edges into whumper territory, idk what it’d be called but like … irritating an existing wound? by like poking it? and stuff? lmk if there’s an official term or something! whumper watches them through camera

—

whumpee is just so tired. they can’t hardly keep their eyes open, but they need to keep awake, alert for signs of whumper returning. it’s cold in the room, the cement hard beneath them and grime digs into the bonnie’s of their knees, shins, ankles, the sore, thin-skinned tops of their feet. a half shudder shakes through them, oddly making saliva pool in their mouth. and then caretaker groans from their place in whumpee’s lap. whumpee blinks down at them, one hand already going to caress their temple and cheekbone. they wish they could whisper some sort of comfort but petting back caretaker’s hair is draining what little energy and focus they have. they need to save some to keep watch.

their breath is heavy in their chest with a gravitational pull that threatens to make their sternum, heart, lungs, ribs, everything cave in. caretaker looks torn in their sleep. a line between their brow and the downturn of their lips display their discomfort even in rest. whumpee’s lips tremble and that vast, yawning thing within them threatens to swallow them hole. staring down at the obscene swelling of caretaker’s dislocated shoulder is like staring over into an underwater trench: terrifying and beautiful in a dark, enthralling way, calling them to fall over the edge and into the unknown and nothing.

whumpee’s hand, shaking, trails over the blue, purple, black without thinking. despite the flinch of caretaker in their sleep, the jumping of their skin, whumpee lets their aching fingers press into the mottled bruise. the swollen, tender flesh gives as blood and other subdermal fluid moves as whumpee presses, pokes, pinches, exploring the thing in front of them like a toddler presented with something new.

it isn’t until caretaker cries out in their sleep that whumpee notices what they are doing, that caretaker is crying. tears run down caretaker’s face, slipping into their hairline, running into the hollows of their ears and starting to soak into the feeble excuse for a pillow that whumper gave them. with a flinch whumpee jerks their hand from caretaker’s shoulder, fingertips burning and bile roiling in their stomach. they were hurting caretaker, they hurt them. they clutch their hands to their chest, the urge to utterly tremble crossing their mind, yet they don’t, they remain frozen as they stare down at caretaker. acrid guilt pools in the back of their throat, the taste of shame. whumpee presses a hand to their mouth to quell the sudden panting breathlessness that hits them, making them whimper.

caretaker squirms in their lap like they were still trying to escape whumpee’s painful prodding and exploration. whumpee hesitates to bring a hand to caretaker’s temple and hair again to soothe them back into a deeper rest. only when caretaker settles does that tempting trembling take its course.

whumpee stares at caretaker’s face, searching for any sign to anything but sleep. they nibble at their fingertips as their panicked breathing, having run its course, starts to ears. what in the world had they been doing? why had they done that to caretaker? what possessed them? why were they fascinated by what they did, drawing that pain, feeling that plush give of flesh, why did they want to do it again?

whumpee glances around the dingy room again and listens, listens for any sign of whumper as they try to gather themselves. when they find nothing, hear nothing and their breath no longer hitches, hiccups in their chest whumpee’s gaze turns back to caretaker.

in their lap, curled mostly on their side, face upwards, caretaker seems so small. whumper knew how to break down even the stronger ones, and my gosh, caretaker is so strong— they held on for so long, until their body gave out. until surely some part of them had to acknowledge how out of place they were for trying to help whumpee beyond whumper’s strict commands. that they should stay their role, do only as whumper says and allows.

whumpee is unaware of the frown on their lips nor the way their eyes narrow as they look down upon caretaker. they don’t feel the pinch of their brow as itfurrows in some unfamiliar and overwhelming rush of anger.

slowly, as though caretaker would wake upon the slightest move, whumpee lowers their hand. they hover over caretaker’s shoulder, nails brushing featherlight, for several dreadful seconds as their heartbeat rises into their throat, ears, eyes, thudding harder and harder with every next beat. they squeeze down. it’s gentle at first, of course, then a little more and a little more. careful, measured increments of pressure and then starting to bear their weight down, torn fingernails cutting in. the more they bear down the more that floaty, absent sensation of before drifts in. they can’t feel anything, thinks anything as they dig their fingers and nails into caretaker’s shoulder with one hand and then both in a cruel mockery of a massage. they watch as caretaker’s chest heaves and they twist - still sleeping - away from the pain. whumpee follows them. they even go so far as to use one hand to pin them in place, hold them right where they want them.

whumpee isn’t sure how long they abuse caretaker’s shoulder. but they do know that when they are done, they feels less tired than they did before. sleepiness does still drag at their eyelids and dirt still digs into their legs as they resume watch for whumper.

—

whumper leans back in their chair, thumb stroking over their chin as a slow smile furls up the corners of their lips. the monitor in front of them flickers gently as the frames load in the live feed of their basement. it’s a little difficult to make out, but there is definitely something of a smile on whumpee’s face, something more relaxed about them after that pretty, petty show. this was unexpected, yes, but not detestable, no. no, whumper decided, there was no need to correct that behavior. it could bloom quite beautifully.