#Whump drabble

[whumpanini]

Whumper had Whumpee on their knees facing them. Whumpee's team stood behind but when they tried to turn and look at their teammates, Whumper grabbed their face and kept them facing forward.

"Ah-ah," Whumper tutted. "Only I can see those pleading eyes."

[whumblr]

It's the same

“I missed you, you know,” Caretaker said, beaming a smile and throwing an arm around Whumpee’s shoulders as they walked up to the tall office building together. “Doing these visits alone is just no fun. This is how it should be. You and me. Taking on the world.”

“Meeting a new client isn’t exactly taking on the world,” Whumpee said with a small scoff, but he also couldn’t help a broad smile. He had missed this, too. Or rather, had desperately needed it to get back into the rhythm of his old life. It had taken weeks of recovery before he was even allowed to set foot into the office and this was the first time he was thrust into his old life again. A sliver of how things used to be. He just had to hold on tight to this and prove to both himself and Caretaker that he was up to this. As before. Forget what had happened.

Caretaker untangled himself from him. And a hand smacked against his upper back.

The gesture was friendly, encouraging. But Whumpee couldn’t control his response. He almost skipped a step as his muscles paralysed for a second. His shoulder blades tensed and his breath stalled high in his throat before he could relax again.

Caretaker didn’t seem to notice, luckily. Or if he did, he overcompensated quickly, stepping away from Whumpee to give him some space and he entered the building first, holding the door open for him.

Whumpee shook it off. It’ll be fine. You and me. Me and him. Taking on the world. One step at the time. Slower than he’d liked, actually. He didn’t want baby steps. Working half days. Having his client list taken over by various coworkers because ‘well you were… away’. He just wanted to jump back into things. Needed to go back to this, a normal life.

They crossed the lobby, Caretaker leading him into the elevator as he’d been here before. Inside though, Whumpee could feel his gaze on him. He flashed a quick reassuring smile and looked him briefly in the eye. He’s fine. He’s been waiting for this. Don’t worry.

They were led to one of the meeting rooms where a jovial, tall man welcomed them enthusiastically.

Whumpee observed the banter between the man and Caretaker with a smile, the ‘How are you’s’, ‘Find the place okay?’.

When Caretaker turned to him and waved an open palm towards him as introduction, he took his cue. He brightly stepped forward to shake the man’s hand.

He got a firm handshake in reply. Nodded. Opened his mouth—

But before he could even utter a ‘good to meet you’ he completely froze up. Something washed over him and it felt like time stood still. Or rather, rewinded. His eyes went wide, his hand went limp in the man’s grasp. Fear rose up like bile, literally. He clamped a hand around his mouth, fingers trembling against his cheek, and he swallowed hard. But couldn’t force the ball of mingling fear and acid down.

“Excuse me—” he barely brought out. And he bolted from the room.

“Whum—” Caretaker stared after him, lips stuttering unvoiced questions and concerns, eyes shooting from the door, to his client and back. The man stood equally bewildered, his hand still half raised, lips parted in confusion.

Their eyes met for a second. “Excuse me,” Caretaker said, firmly, already taking a step towards the door and the man nodded before he even had to explain.

His panic rose with every step, with every glass meeting room that he passed that was empty. Had it been too soon? He wanted to believe Whumpee, wanted to believe that he was okay, but—No. Come on. He had to find him first. See what’s up.

He legged past the washrooms. Stopped. Took a step back. Added one plus one. And opened the door.

A retching sound greeted him as soon as he opened the door and relief washed over him. Immediately followed by fresh concern.

Whumpee stood over the sink, hands clamped around the edges, knuckles white, head down.

“What’s—What’s wrong? Are you okay?!”

Whumpee didn’t look up yet, just stared into the sink like there was a mirror at the bottom. “Yeah…” he started. “Yeah, I just…” He wiped at the corner of his mouth. He didn’t look okay. But he did sound okay. Just a little shaken. Maybe even a little confused himself.

He took a shaky breath and straightened up. His face was pale and there were tears in the corners of his eyes. Before he turned to face Caretaker he quickly wiped them away. “It’s just… It’s the same.”

“What is?”

“His cologne,” Whumpee said, stronger now. “It’s the same.”

-

General tag list: @firewheeesky @myfriendcallsmeasickwoman19 @whumpawink @painsandconfusion @auroragehenna @chaotic-orphan @lolrpop @treasureguardingdragon @morning-star-whump

[holidayinhell]

“Pft." Whumpee scoffed. "You don’t care about me.”

Whumper blinked, at a loss. “How could you say that?” 

“How could I say that?” Whumpee mocked, eyebrows raised.

His voice tore out of him, spit flying. “Look at me!”

Whumpee stood in the light, and for what felt like the first time, Whumper really saw him.

“Normal people wouldn’t do this to someone they love.” 

(more whump)

[wintertimewhump]

It’s common to see whumpers that enjoy making their whumpee sad/angry/afraid. That’s pretty natural for whumpers.

But what about a whumper that (also) enjoys making their whumpee happy?

Whumper loves how Whumpee’s eyes light up when they’re given a plate of their favorite food (after being starved for days)

Whumper loves watching Whumpee sing along to their favorite songs playing from the radio Whumper bought them (to help them cope with long periods of isolation)

Whumper loves the peaceful look on Whumpee’s face as they enjoy a good book Whumper gave them (and could take away at any time)

Whumper loves how soft Whumpee’s hair and skin look after a warm shower (the first in weeks)

Whumper loves how Whumpee slowly dances around their cell to the tune of a music box (it was a gift for not struggling despite the pain)

Whumper loves the sigh of relief from Whumpee as Whumper applies the burn cream (to the wounds Whumper made with a red hot poker)

Whumper loves pulling Whumpee close to them, curled up on the couch as they watch Whumpee’s favorite film (they notice Whumpee shivering slightly in their hold)

Whumper loves making Whumpee happy (as long as they know Whumper could take it back whenever they want)

[whumpkinpie]

Whumpee stirring from a deep, medical-induced sleep to the sound of muffled voices, fighting to pry their eyes open to see who it is but their resolve is too weak, their eyelids too heavy.

Their head lolls sideways on the pillow as they draw a slow, sluggish breath, mumbling unintelligibly'Where am I? What's happening?' But their mouth is unable to properly form the words.

The voices pause suddenly, and hesitate, before Whumpee feels a warm gentle hand is stroking their face and hair.

"No, No...shhhh. Shh, It's alright, Whumpee. It's nothing," A soothing voice whispers, lulling them back down. "Just go back to sleep."

"It'll all be over soon..." Is the last words Whumpee hears before the medicine takes over again, causing them to fall back into their slumber.

[gotta-whump-them-all]

Whumpee who can't sleep at night because they're plagued with night terrors.

Whumpee who can't sleep at night because it's hard for them to lay on their bad, due to their scars.

Whumpee who can't sleep at night because they're on high alert; too nervous to let themself fall asleep.

Whumpee who can't sleep at night because they think Whumper will find them when they're sleeping.

Whumpee who can't sleep at night because they're terrified of the dark.

Whumpee who can't sleep at night because of their chronic pain.

Whumpee who can't sleep at night because they are such a light sleeper that the slightest noise wakes them up.

Whumpee who can't sleep at night because they're scared that once they fall asleep, that Caretaker will abandon them.

Whumpee who can't sleep at night because their sleep schedule is so messed up that they sleep whenever.

Whumpee who can't sleep at night because they're scared of Caretaker; they're scared that they'll turn out just like Whumper.

[whump-softie]

Sure, Whumpee is beaten daily. He is hit and kicked to the floor by everyone he sees, but at least it is better than it was.

Sure, he is branded and beaten until unconscious. He is punished for wrongdoings that aren’t his own, but at least it is better than it was.

Before, he was loved and cherished. He was brought up to a level he never thought he could reach, and he never deserved it.

At least now, the outside matches the inside. At least now, others see what he sees in himself; a detestable creature with no hope of salvation.

He is beaten and he deserves it.

Yes, this is much better.

[a-class-attempter]

Whumper spun the iron rod in their hand. Whumpee looked up wearily, their wrists raw from struggling against the rope that tied them tight to the wooden chair. “This, Whumpee, is a freeze brand. You want to know what it does?” “Not particularly, no.” Whumper laughed and went on anyway. “Well, you see, it will cause a burn of sorts. Make a beautiful mark on your lovely skin. Then, it will scar. Oh, how it will scar, red and angry. A forever reminder of your conquerer.” Whumper smiled, holding the freezing rod close to Whumpee’s face. Whumpee could feel the biting cold radiating off it. They shied away as far as they could with their limited mobility.

“Get that thing away from me.”

Whumper hummed. “No, I don’t think I will. Consider it a gift.”

Whumper brought down the iron on Whumpee’s neck. Whumpee writhed and choked, the pain mixing with the dread of having Whumper’s mark forever stained into their skin.

[isntthisblank]

Uncaring Caretaker

A caretaker who’s rough and doesn’t care about boundaries or mental states. They know that Whumpee needs to shower, and they make Whumpee take a shower. It doesn’t matter if Whumpee is scared that Caretaker would drown them. Caretaker just grabs them and puts them in the shower, deaf to Whumpee’s panic and pleas of mercy. Because the best way, to get Whumpee to realise that Caretaker wouldn’t hurt them, won’t be empty, reassuring words - Whumpee will panic and panic until eventually they’ll see that everything has been fine and their fears have never come true. And then they’ll have no more reason to panic

[whumblr]

Strong characters who don't show any fear. Even when captured. Even when they're on their knees, with their hands tied behind their back, when a fist or boot or weapon is about to connect with their face. They don't glance up in fear, they don't flinch, don't attempt to make a miserable attempt to fight back or run. They don't beg or plea. They simply take it.

They're not resigned. They're just biding their time. And waiting.

[holidayinhell]

“Your first mistake was leaving.”

Whumper tilted the wheelchair forward, dumping Whumpee onto the cement floor.

“Your second mistake, you dumb little shit—” 

His boot connected with the cast on Whumpee’s leg, sending an electric crack of pain rippling through Whumpee’s body. 

“—was going to the hospital instead of the police.” 

Whumper knelt down, reaching for the hacksaw behind him. The metal teeth caught the dim light as he held the saw against the cast. 

A strangled whimper slipped from Whumpee’s lips.

“Stop crying and hold still.”

[serene-cinders]

A Whumpee who’s rescued from their situation by police with the assumption that they have friends and family who can support them, be it financially and emotionally, but they just don’t. Maybe Whumper had their identity changed years ago and Whumpee’s been through so much they can’t remember who they were. Better yet, they don’t even want to know who they once were. It’s irrelevant, now. Or maybe they don’t have the heart to seek out who they once knew, all those years ago. It’s so difficult, they’re a different person now. Everybody else must’ve moved on, right? Nobody cares about them anymore, right? Yeah. They’ve definitely stopped looking.

The state was able to put Whumper away for a few years. A charity is able scrape together a rented apartment for Whumpee. Set them up with a simple job. They clock in and clock out, go home and sleep in their empty apartment, curled in the sheets, with nobody to love and nobody to answer to.

Recovery whump without a caretaker has so much potential.

[jordanstrophe]

Whumpee awakens curled in the backseat in someone's arms.

They look down, their entire torso is drenched with blood.

They start to panic, but someone holds them tightly. "Shhh, shh sh, it's okay, go back to sleep. Close your eyes." Someone grabs a blanket and covers their chest with it.

"You're going to be fine, I got you. Go back to sleep... Please."

A hand brushes over their face and closes their eyes. Whumpee finds themselves doing what the voice tells them to.

[vivisectedboy]

Open

"God. Fuck. Please don't d- Please stop-"

"Hm?"

The Doctor makes an incision. Precise. Sharp. The skin feels so impossibly thin. So easy to reach under. It's like drawing on paper.

"Jesus christ- Jesus fucking christ- Oh god-"

The Doctor reaches in. Rubber gloves against raw flesh, forearms covered in fresh blood. What a horrible texture.

The Patient is heaving in shock. On the inclined bed, he has no other choice but to look right at the wound gaping across his stomach. It moves with each gasp for air. Like a mouth. An orifice that was always meant to be there, moving in rhythm with the rest of the body.

"I forgot to get the retractors. But I reckon you could do the job, no?"

"What?"

"I'm going to loosen the restraints on your hands, so you can reach it."

"What-"

The Patient asks again, barely hearing the words over his own hitched breathing. The Doctor grabs his two wrists - completely unbothered by the blood smearing on them - and positions his hands over the wound.

"Hold that open for me, will you?"

His fingers are guided in place, forced to dig deep, while his arms are pulled apart slowly. Bright red viscera beneath the freshly opened layers. Like it has always wanted to be seen, glistening under the light.

"No, no, no- no, please don't- please I'm-"

"Sshh. Just hold it there. Keep it open."

"No- no- I can't-"

Not feeling the pain might even be more terrifying. Only the view remains. And the sounds. The stomach-turning smell of his own blood. His fingers, clamped in place by complete shock. And the growing cold, slowly seeping into his whole trembling body.

[the-samcrifice]

"They'll all come for me, I know they will!" Whumpee snarled, straining again the chains pinning them to the brick wall. "And just you wait till Team Leader kicks your butt!"

Whumper laughed. Despite being the littlest of the Team, Whumpee was proving to be quite a delight. They reached out and tilted Whumpee's chin up with their pointer finger. "Ooo, I'm positively quaking in my boots." They teased. "And how can you be so certain they're looking for you, hmm? Last I checked, you're still my pet."

Whumpee glared, trying to wrench their chin away from Whumper's grasp, but Whumper held it in place, in full control. "I trust that they will- I know they will." They spat.

Whumper chuckled. Trust? Delightful AND funny. This Whumpee was quite the catch. "You speak to me about trust, hm? I mean, I'm sure you're an expert. Let's see...who did the Team trust to sneak into my lair undetected? Who did the team trust not to get caught? Who did the Team trust to not share confidential information with me, which let me remind you, you did rather quic-"

"SHUT UP!" Whumpee snapped, eyes a little wider than before. They were worried. Good.

"I'm just saying, Whumpee...Why should you count on them.... when they couldn't count on you?"

[justwhumptypethings]

tw: implied intimate/nsfw whump, mentions of lingerie and past sexualization

caretaker couldn’t stand seeing them in that kind of clothes. it makes them nauseous. the first thing they do when they get home, before helping them figure out the shower or feeeding them, is getting them clothes. The entire time they had been going home, whumpee had had their arms wrapped around themselves like they’re trying to protect themselves.

the first thing they do is find them new clothes- soft, unassuming cotton undergarments that caretaker had leftover from when their sister stayed over eight months ago, the smallest t-shirt they own, and a hoodie and sweatpants that practically dwarf whumpee, outlining their bony figure farther.

when caretaker hands whumpee the clothes they stare at them, their eyes wide. they look up, their voice so unobtrusive and quiet when they ask tentatively “w-what do you want me to do with this?”

caretaker’s face twists into a frown. of course they don’t understand. “Those are for you, whumpee.” whumpee’s eyes widen to saucers, and they look down at the clothes. after a moment of staring, they pull the clothes to rest against their chest lightning fast, almost clinging to them. They’re looking up at caretaker with tears welling up in their eyes, never falling. whumpee’s voice is still so quiet. “T-thank you, caretaker.”

when whumpee has the clothes on, caretaker can’t help but feel an overwhelming sense of relief. Sure, the clothes absolutely dwarf whumpee in a way they would never have before, making them look even more malnourished and sickly, but at least, now, they look like they’re at home. not in that skimpy shit caretaker knows whumpee would never choose to wear willingly.