Ah Yes. The Good Shit. Wanna Take A Big Ol Bite

Ah yes. The good shit. Wanna take a big ol bite

oh but that woozy little sway they do after getting hit a little too hard, sitting upright just enough, leaning over like their head is too heavy for their body, clinging to consciousness as tight as they can. kneeling down in front of them, grabbing their shoulders to steady them. "easy, hey, look at me. you're alright."

Gut punch reading this. Familiar

Whumpees who don’t get a Caretaker, who have to keep themselves together because no one else will.

Whumpees who become Caretakers, who are everyone’s friend but no one’s priority.

Whumpees who consider returning to Whumper, who crave familiarity enough to sacrifice safety.

Whumpees who are painfully aware no one would notice if they went missing.

Whumpees who lay awake, wondering whether surviving was worth it.

Lonely Whumpees.

👀👀❤️👍

Whumper torturing whumpee with a shock collar? Even better if caretaker is watching. ❤

Do I really have to make a new plot for every single one of these requests? Yes. Yes, I do. Will there ever be conclusions to these plots? No. No, there won’t. 

“Boss? There’s something here you might want to see.” 

Caretaker raises their eyes from their work to one of their teammates. They’re standing at the door of the office, holding a flashdrive. 

“And what’s that?” 

“It’s the footage from that warehouse we stormed yesterday.” 

“Is there a lead to where they might have gone?” 

“No. We managed to get a couple of license plates, but that was about it. But… There’s something else in this footage. You just… You have to see it.” 

They go around the table and plug the flash drive into the computer. Thirty days of footage are divided into sixty files. The team mate clicks one of them, jumping to a certain point in time. When the cursor scrubs the player, Caretaker sees quick movements around the warehouse, until team mate finally stops. 

There is one chair in the middle of the warehouse, directly under a light. There is one person sitting on it, fighting restraints. Their face is battered, and they’re leaning like they can’t hold the weight of their own body. They raised their face, like they’re looking for a way out. Caretaker grabs the arms of their chair, losing their breath. 

“Whumpee.” They look at their team mate, looking for a confirmation. “They’re alive?” 

Whumpee had gone missing three months before. Their apartment was torn down, there was blood all over. When they weren’t found, Caretaker had assumed the worst. 

“I don’t know, boss.” They say, without moving their eyes from the screen. “But they definitely were three days ago. Take a look.” 

Someone arrives, walking slowly, cockily. Caretaker’s hands close into fists. They’d know that silhouette anywhere. 

“Whumper,” they growl. 

And it is them. Whumpee freezes when they see them, sinking into the chair. 

“Not again. I told you, I... ”, Caretaker hears, although the audio is bad. They raise the volume on the computer.

“No. No, no, no…” Whumper shakes their finger, shushing Whumpee. “You’ve told me nothing. And I told you that nothing is inacceptable. So I thought we could try something different.” 

Whumpee starts to struggle again and Caretaker feels like cheering them on like a football coach would. They know this was days ago and if Whumpee had managed to escape, their team mate would have been able to track them. But knowing Whumpee is alive again… It’s almost too much hope to bear. 

Ignoring their fight to escape, Whumper takes something out of their pocket, unravelling it. Caretaker squints to see, but from afar it looks like a strap of fabric with some sort of device attached to it. 

“What is that?” Whumpee asks, right on cue. 

“Ah, you’ll find out.” They obscure Whumpee for a second, hovering over them. Caretaker tries to see what they’re doing, why Whumpee is screaming and thrashing. Then, Whumper steps aside and Whumpee spits on the ground next to them. 

“Are you kidding?! A collar?! Did you just collar me, you sick bastard?”

“I’d say it’s what you deserve. If you had been more collaborative, this wouldn’t have to happen. I’m just trying to make ends meet.” Whumper takes something else out of their pocket and shakes it in front of their face. “Are you familiar with these?” 

“No. I’m not a psychopath! What is this shit?”

Whumper sighs. 

“It’s for other people concerned about non collaborative animals.” They press a button and Whumpee lets out a scream. Caretaker almost jumps out of their chair.  Whumper merely laughs. “Sorry, did I startle you? I think you got the gist of it now, didn’t you?”

“What kind of collar is this?” Whumpee tries to look down, but it’s too tight for them to see anything.

“A shock collar. For disobedient pets. Of course, bigger pets require bigger shocks. I had someone make some changes for me.” Whumper pushes the button again, just for the joy of it. 

Whumpee screams louder than before, their body lifting slightly from the metal chair. When Whumper let go of the button, they fell to it, breathless, head sinking forward. 

Caretaker slams their fist against the table. 

“How long does this go on for?” 

Their team mate swallows. 

“A while.” They scrub over the next scenes. The shocking goes on and on for at least thirty minutes. Team mate finally pauses. “I- What… What should we do? What are the orders?” 

Caretaker rubs their face. 

“Find them. End Whumper. What it’s always been.” 

“But… If they’re keeping hostages now… They could force us to retreat.” Team mate retrieves the flashdrive. “If it was between Whumpee and the mission… Could you do it?” 

Caretaker feels their heart twisting. It was a twist much like the ones they felt every single night they went to sleep thinking they’d never see Whumpee again, that they were gone for good. They know what Team Mate is asking, and they’re right. The mission should always be first. 

Caretaker stands up and extends their hand to their team mate. The other took it. 

“Take care of the team for me.” 

“W- What? What are you— What will you…” 

Caretaker takes out their insignia and their weapon, leaving them on the table. 

“I’m going rogue.”

As always, my askbox is always open for requests. If you enjoy what I do, please consider getting me a ko-fi!

Goddamn-

Masochist whumpee who messes up simple tasks to get hurt by their master. When whumper notices this they get very angry and decide to show whumpee what real pain feels like

CW: torture, masochism, sadism, emotional and physical abuse

The room was dimly lit, the faint glow of a single bulb casting eerie shadows on the walls. Whumpee stood trembling, their fingers fumbling, either in excitement or fear over the broken vase pieces scattered on the floor.

They knew the routine by now, the cycle of mistakes and punishments that had become their twisted solace. They longed for the sharp sting of their master's wrath, the only connection they had left in this world.

Whumper entered the room, their eyes narrowing as they took in the scene. "Again?" They hissed, the word dripping with venom. "You can't even handle a simple task like this?"

Whumpee's heart raced, a mixture of fear and anticipation swirling in their chest. "I'm sorry, Master," they whispered, their voice barely audible. "I didn't mean to..."

Whumper's hand shot out, grabbing Whumpee by the collar and lifting them off the ground. "Don't lie to me!" they roared, shaking Whumpee violently. "You did this on purpose, didn't you? You want me to hurt you, don't you?"

Whumpee's eyes filled with tears, their breath coming in ragged gasps. "Please, Master... I... I just..."

Whumper's grip tightened, their eyes blazing with fury. "You think this is pain? You think you know what real pain feels like?" They threw Whumpee to the ground, their voice low and menacing. "I'll show you what pain really is."

Whumpee curled into a ball, their body trembling as they awaited the inevitable. Whumper disappeared into the shadows, returning moments later with a thin, cruel-looking whip. They cracked it in the air, the sound echoing through the room like a gunshot.

"Get up," Whumper ordered, their voice cold and devoid of emotion. "Stand up and face me."

Whumpee struggled to their feet, their legs shaking uncontrollably. They met Whumper's gaze, a mixture of fear and desperate longing in their eyes. "Please, Master... I..."

"Silence!" Whumper snapped, raising the whip high. "You want pain? I'll give you pain."

The first strike landed with a sickening crack, the force of it sending Whumpee crashing to the ground. They screamed, the sound raw and guttural, echoing off the walls. Whumper didn't stop, the whip lashing out again and again, each blow more brutal than the last.

"Is this what you wanted?" Whumper snarled, their voice growing more frenzied with each strike. "Is this what you needed?"

Whumpee's screams turned to sobs, their body convulsing with each hit. They could feel their skin tearing, the blood flowing freely down their back. The pain was unbearable, a searing agony that consumed every inch of their being.

Whumper finally stopped, their chest heaving with exertion. They looked down at Whumpee, a twisted smile playing on their lips. "Now you know what real pain feels like," they said softly, their voice almost gentle. "Now you understand."

Whumpee lay on the ground, their body broken and bloodied, their mind a haze of pain and confusion. They had wanted this, hadn't they? They had needed this. But now, as the darkness closed in around them, they weren't so sure. The only thing they knew for certain was that they were completely, utterly alone.

Whumper wasn’t done. They dragged Whumpee by their hair to the basement, each step down the creaky stairs echoing with dread. The basement was a chamber of horrors, tools of torment meticulously arranged on the walls. Whumpee’s eyes widened in terror as they were shoved against a cold, metal table. Their wrists and ankles were strapped down with cruel efficiency.

"Now," Whumper said, their voice a chilling whisper, "let’s see how much you can really take."

They reached for a set of sharp hooks, dangling them in front of Whumpee's wide, terrified eyes. "no..." Whumpee pleaded, their voice barely more than a hoarse whisper.

Ignoring the pleas, Whumper pressed the first hook into Whumpee’s flesh, just below their ribcage. The hook dug in with a sickening squelch, and the guttural scream that escaped Whumpee was animalistic to say the least.

"Shh," Whumper cooed mockingly, twisting the hook slightly. "This is just the beginning."

Whumper moved with practiced precision, embedding more hooks into Whumpee's skin, each one drawing fresh screams and rivers of blood. Whumpee's body was a canvas of suffering, each hook a cruel reminder of their tormentor's power.

"Oh but whumpee.. Do you not enjoy this..?" Whumper cooed making whumpee shake their head so fast, that their ears started ringing. Or maybe that was because of the blood loss. They weren't so sure now.

"Why do you do this, whumpee?" The whumper's voice cut through the haze of pain, his words a cruel taunt. "Why do you crave this suffering?"

Whumpee could only whimper in response, their mind a whirlwind of conflicting emotions—fear, desire, and a twisted gratitude that they couldn't comprehend. The pain was relentless, a symphony of torment orchestrated by their own hand.

"Answer me!" The whumper's voice boomed, shaking them from their stupor. "Or do you need more?"

"I... I don't know!" Whumpee gasped, tears mingling with the sweat and blood on their face. "I just... I need..."

"You need me to show you what real pain feels like," the whumper finished, their voice low and chilling.

As Whumpee's screams subsided into weak, shuddering sobs, Whumper pulled out a thin, serrated knife. "You've been such a disappointment," they murmured, tracing the blade along Whumpee's thigh. "Maybe this will teach you to do better."

They carved slowly, deliberately, the knife slicing through flesh with a sickening ease. Blood pooled around Whumpee’s legs, the metallic scent mingling with the damp, musty air of the basement. Whumpee's cries grew weaker, their body wracked with uncontrollable shivers.

Whumper stepped back, surveying their handiwork with a satisfied grin. "You see," they said softly, "this is what pain really feels like."

Whumpee's vision blurred, their mind teetering on the edge of unconsciousness. The pain was a consuming fire, burning away any coherent thought. All that remained was a raw, unfiltered agony that left them broken and hollow.

As the darkness closed in, Whumpee’s last thought was a fleeting wish for an end to the torment, a desperate hope that they would never wake to face their master’s wrath again.

Yes

idk whether this is an underrated trope but man i love the kind of whump where the character passes out, like total dead weight, and the caretaker (bonus if it's their rival/enemy) has to carry them back to safety (whether it's bridal style, on their back, with their arms under whumpee's armpits)

“I’m [name].”

They stared. Completely distracted, flustered, awed. “I’m so gay.” Then they realised what they’d said. “Oh, god. I mean-”

The other’s lip curled, a flicker of all too gorgeous amusement on their face. “You know, I can’t ask you out on a date before you tell me your name, I’m so gay.” 

They were screwed. Officially screwed.