Thinking about a whumpee who is extremely withdrawn, private, and shy gradually starting to gravitate towards one particular person… spending more time with them, starting to speak more, even cracking a smile every now and then. The other people around the whumpee start to notice, but they don’t say anything for fear of ruining it. Instead they just share knowing smiles when they notice the whumpee quietly seeking out that one special person or lighting up when they’re around.

Three blanket things

Contains: whump, masochism, broken bones, blood, torture mention, creepy whumper

"You... like this." Whumper's grim expression curled into a grin. "Oh, you devil." They cupped whumpee's cheek, planting a soft kiss on their bloody forehead.

"Mm..." Whumpee's head lolled to the side, their eyes unfocused, lashes fluttering with confusion. They had gone pale, a stark contrast to all the blood on them. It was beautiful. "N-" They choked, tipping forward in whumper's arms. "-no, I-"

"Shh, shh," Whumper pet their tangled hair. "I know, dearest." Their fingers travelled across whumpee's back, finding the nearest nasty cut. Whumpee stilled, holding their breath. Their eyes closed, and they pressed their face into whumper's shirt, hands curling into their shirt.

"Pl-" Their beg was cut off as whumper dug their nails into whumpee's fresh wound, making them wail in pain, tensing up and arching their back. Delicate beads of sweat dripped down their forehead, and tears washed away flakes of dried blood from their cheeks. They moaned deliriously, shivering.

Whumper sighed in ecstasy, thumb tenderly rubbing the outside of the awful gash. "You disgusting thing," They crooned. "Desperate and needy for any attention, even if you're torn apart in the process." Whumper ghosted hands along their sides, pressing gently at mottled bruises and bloody patches of skin, elicting beautiful whimpers from their captive.

"I'm looking for a response, whumpee..." Their voice had a threatening edge to it.

Whumpee gritted their teeth. "Y-yes." Their face burned with shame, tears soaking into whumper's already ruined shirt. When whumper said nothing, they continued, for nothing but to still the awkwardness, the mind-numbing silence of the basement. "I... l-like," They tightened their fist, squeezing their eyes shut. "-when you- uh- when-"

"Go on." Whumper ordered, holding their newly broken wrist in one hand. The slowly began to squeeze, grinding the bones together and making whumpee squirm with the building pressure.

Whumpee sobbed, the pain lancing up their arm, but any movement only made it worse. "Hurt me-" They gasped, a shrill yelp leaving their mouth as whumper snapped their wrist back. Whumpee's mouth opened in a silent scream of agony, their broken body trembling in whumper's gentle hold.

Only then did whumper pull away, letting their poor captive slump onto the cold stone floors, gasping and whimpering, clutching their twisted hand to their chest.

"Well, then I'll have to get more creative with you."

“I’m tired…”

“I know sweetheart, we’ll be home soon.”

“Sleep?”

“Yeah, sleep. In a big comfy bed, with those pajamas that you like. The blue ones.”

“Good… sounds good.”

Caretaker gently brushed the hair out of whumpees face, praying that the rest of their team could get to them before Whumpee passed out. They knew they had to keep talking. Had to keep them awake.

“And guess what?”

“Hmm?”

“Guess.”

“Nnh,” their eyebrows drew together in a grimace as they shook their head, “Just tell me…please…”

“I’ll make you coffee cake. The kind with the crumbs on top, that you really like.”

Their lips quirked up in a smile. “But you hate that…”

“No, not really.”

“You hate crumbs. I get crumbs on the rug…”

“I’ll vacuum,” Caretaker looks up at the sound of footsteps, distant but distinct, “You just gotta stay awake okay? Until we get home, alright?”

“I can’t though… My head hurts…” Whumpees eyes had been fluttering open and closed randomly, but now it seemed like a losing battle.

“You have to. You have to stay awake, please, whumpee please,” they begged, shaking them slightly, guilt burning a hole through their heart at the cry of pain it caused.

“You’re hurting me!”

“Whumpee, you have to stay awake. I know you’re tired, and I know it hurts. It’s going to be all better soon, I promise, but not if you fall asleep now. You have to wake up.”

“I can’t… I don’t want to…” they sobbed, “Please, I can’t anymore…”

The footsteps were getting closer and closer, just a few minutes and they would be okay. They set their jaw, and closed their eyes, wishing they could plug their ears.

“I’m sorry, Whumpee, I’m so sorry…” they whispered, before grinding the heel of their palm into one of Whumpees wounds.

The broken howl of pain seemed to carve right through Caretakers heart. They would never be able to unhear it, undo it, unsee it.

But as the rescuers surged around the two of them, at least they knew they would be around to apologize for it.

(Edit: Part two here as requested!)

Currently imagining That Thing where a whumpee is just cold cold cold and has zero shelter but is also probably getting sick and doesn't realize it yet, curling up somewhere like the back of an alleyway or under a tree and eventually passing out from exhaustion, and someone finding them and taking them home of course, worriedly looking after the poor cold little thing and getting them nice and warm and cozy, and Whumpee not even really waking up just being half asleep and not fully lucid the whole time and going almost seamlessly from borderline hypothermic to feverish as their illness makes an appearance, only really fully waking up a day or two later to an anxious stranger hovering over them in bed saying "how are you feeling, little one? You've been very sick."

Scared Whumpee is begging his rescuers not to put him under.

He tries to push medic's hands away, but he's just too weak to fight. So helpless and desperate. The needle sticks in his neck. The sobs and pleas slowly quiet down as the sedative kicks in and he falls unconcious in Caretaker's arms.

CONSIDER THE FOLLOWING!

Gagged whumpee with really strong gag reflex.

That is all.

Whumpee always used to talk, and was a genuinely funny person once you got used to the fact that they practically never shut up. However, after they were rescued from Whumper, they hadn’t uttered a single word. Multiple people tried to get Whumpee to talk, even their closest friends, but Whumpee’s lips didn’t budge. Sometimes, it seemed like Whumpee wanted to say something, but then their eyebrows would pinch together and they’d stop themselves before any sound was uttered. Whatever Whumper had done, the Caretakers around Whumpee weren’t sure that they could fix it.

I know it’s been said, but that small little admission of misery from a person who just doesn’t complain no matter how bad it gets. 

That moment where they’re too deep in it and they whisper through chapped lips “I really don’t feel good”, which is completely obvious by the way they’ve been curled up under a blanket for hours being worried over, but it’s reached a point where they just have to say so, express it, get it out. And even then it’s not a groan or a loud complaint, it’s just a whisper. 

Or perhaps the admission isn’t born of intense need, but rather finally feeling safe enough to lower their walls, to admit vulnerability. They’ve got their head on someone’s chest - someone who has proved themselves unconditionally loving and accepting - and when they murmur “it really hurts” against that someone, it’s a decision to let them in all the way, a rare and decided sign of trust and reciprocated affection. 

Or maybe. It’s a courageous thing. Maybe it isn’t obvious exactly how miserable they’ve been. It’s not so bad they’re bedridden, they’ve been pushing through because that’s what they always do. That’s what they learned from a young age you have to do. But recently they’ve been with people who are gentle and want to care for them when they’re not okay, people who have been trying with such patience to teach them to admit when something’s wrong. 

So when they stop in the middle of something, turn to someone, and say in a small voice “I don’t feel good”, that’s a triumph for everyone involved.