#injured whumpee
CW: Blood loss, medical whump
Caretaker’s trying to carry whumpee to safety after a long battle, but there’s a deep gash between their ribs that’s bleeding out. They fold a bandage against it and tell them to put as much pressure as they can.
The longer they go, the more caretaker realizes whumpee’s too weak to push hard enough. They’re in pain, sweating and bleeding at an alarming rate.
Caretaker lays them down and ties a bandage around their chest. They hope if they pull it tight enough, it’ll make up for the lack of pressure. They keep pulling and pulling until whumpee jolts and cries out in pain, followed by caretaker profusely apologizing before picking them back up.
The unsettling closeness between a stranger caretaker, and a severely wounded whumpee:
- The stranger picks them up and carries them when they can’t walk. Whumpee hasn’t felt a shred of kindness in so long they blindly cling to it, tucking their face under their chin to hide.
- Unspoken trust as caretaker patches them up; but even though it hurts, whumpee stays silent and still.
- Seemingly alien conversations when caretaker asks if they’re okay with being carried or touched. They tell them beforehand everything they do before they do it, not surprising or starting them with any pain.
- Taking a damp cloth to whumpee’s face, lathering off sweat, blood, dirt, or all three. Whumpee’s too flustered to say anything, they just lower their head shy of speaking.
- The night falls cold and whumpee starts shivering. They hold their breath and curl up against the back of the stranger, hoping they aren’t angry when they wake up…
When caretaker found them, they were as weak as a newborn fawn. They were shaking on the floor, hardly having the strength to hold their head up. They cringed so far away from them caretaker had to tilt their head up from the jawline. They studied the nasty bruise blooming on their cheekbone; they felt whumpees weight sink in their hand, their posture wobbled just trying to sit upright.
“You’re hurt…” Caretaker rasped, letting whumpee go when they let out a whimper.
“Shh, sh sh…” Caretaker softly hushed, putting their finger to their lips. They nodded towards the door with a furrowed brow.
“Whumper’s still here.”
Mafia Week: Family Business
Decided to put my Paul Higgs story on the backburner so I can have more fun with it, and wrote a wee little epilogue for this week’s Nanda and Jameson showcase instead!
For@amonthofwhump’s Mafia Madness - Family Business
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Kidnapping|Snitches and Stitches|Vendetta|Assassination | Family Business
CW: Pet whump, intimate whumper, internal injuries, injured whumpee, creepy comfort, some brief dubcon references, dehumanizing/degrading language, Nanda is kind of a possessive creep, but also this is pretty soft? They’re so weird. Just a little epilogue, of sorts.
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The pet’s eyes narrow as he watches Nanda enter the room. He’s weighted down under heavy blankets, layers that keep the air around his body warm, working with the painkillers to keep him loose-limbed and languid, barely able to move.
Not that he wants to. Every slight shift sends a thrill of pain up his spine from somewhere deep inside of him. Even taking too deep a breath brings to brief, blurry life the aches and pains he’s littered with. It breaks through the wall constructed by the drugs that hold him, fuzzy and protected from the awful ache of his own body.
The odd, unpleasant medic is gone – with his businesslike invading fingers, his way of causing pain without any method of making it good,his flat stare as he worked. His pet is gone, too, the Platonic who had come out of shock only to cry until Arvid took him in his arms and whispered to him, the pet nodding and nodding like a puppet on a string, his sobs turning to sniffles and then to whispers in return.
He had never looked at the pet, not once. The other pet had treated him like he’s invisible, like the others always treat the Romantics, but at least it’s better than treating him like he’s a lying little snitch.
Eventually, they’d gone, with Arvid shoving a bottle of rattling pills into Nanda’s hand and giving him timing and dosage the pet couldn’t overhear. He doesn’t know if he’s being given too much or not enough.
He just has to trust Nanda.
And he tries.
CW: References to violent noncon, internal injuries, dehumanization, pet whump, abduction and hostage-taking, Nanda is a possessive creep, guns, intimate whumpers, sadistic whumpers
Kidnapping|Snitches and Stitches | Vendetta
@amonthofwhump’s Mafia Madness Day 3
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The mattress smells.
It also has the distinction of being the only place the pet can remember ever sleeping that is evenlesscomfortable than the WRU facility room floors.
Still blindfolded, all he has is smell, taste, sound, and touch. The lumpy mattress is scratchy, stiff with stains he can’t see and refuses to think too much about, some of which must be his own dried blood. His heels hang off the edge, where the concrete floor is, his fingers tingle with near-numbness.
All he can smell is concrete, blood, some faint sick-sweet smell of old decay, and the remnants of cigarette smoke and french fries. The taste of the cheap cheeseburger they fed him lingers on his tongue, as does the bitter and salt of what they fed him after that, laughing and gripping him by his newly-cleaned damp hair until his scalp ached and his jaw burned from how they forced it open.
He shifts, slowly sliding himself up on the mattress until his feet are on it again and off the floor. The motion flares sharp pain deep inside of him, and he whimpers, biting down hard on his lower lip to keep the sound to a whisper.
It has never hurt this badly, afterward. Not even when there were multiple handlers.No, they took their time and took care, knowing he was going to a buyer who wouldn’t stand for pre-existing damage. These men… They’ve torn something, reallytorn it. This is all he’s even good for, and if he’s too broken for it…
The pet tries to push down the panic, to ignore what the pain is trying to tell him.
Even if he comes for you, you won’t live long if he can’t have you. If you can’t do what he wants. After that, it’s back to WRU, you’ll be refurbished. No one will want you, they’ll wipe you and start clean with someone new, with-
He has to stop thinking like this. The panic is cycling, and his chest has gone tight and sharp with every gasping, shallow breath. He can’t be afraid of that, not yet. He has to deal with the rest of the things he’s afraid of first.
June 17th- “Just keep looking at me. You’re doing great.”
Short and prolly doesn’t make sense but I’m not really in a writing mood rn so apologies
Cw: rough wound care, blood, injuries, improper wound care, makeshift medical things, uhhh manhandling, rough caretaker, uhhhhhhhh idk what else, woods setting?
Whumpee squeezed their eyes shut against the pain, a gasp slipping from their lips as Caretaker pressed the alcohol-soaked rag against the wound.
Caretaker looked up to them, eyes softening in pity as they offered Whumpee a strained smile.
“You’re doing good, honey, so good,” They reassured, their other hand pressing harder against Whumpee’s leg, keeping it still as they dabbed the cloth against the gash.
Whumpee hissed in pain, their fists tightening as their nails bit into their palms, barely holding back a scream.
The dirt covered, rocky ground dug into their skin, poking through the thick material of their gloves and pants. Blood pooled on the dead leaves, staining the earthy floor a deep red.
They cried out as Caretaker prodded the wound once more, a burning agony shooting up their thigh as they continued to clean the wound.
Caretaker grunted, pausing their work momentarily as Whumpee’s leg kicked and spasmed, leaning back so they wouldn’t get nailed in the face.
“Hey- hey darling I need you to stay still for me,” Their tone was getting impatient as they readjusted their grip on Whumpee’s leg. “Just keep looking at me, okay? You’re doing great.”
May 31st- “Sir?”
[middle of nowhere | freezing | lighter]
Cw: accidental whump, cold, freezing, noncon touching, manhandling, slight guilt
“Oh darling,” Whumper sighed, a frown curling across their lips as they pressed their palm to Whumpee’s forehead. “You’re as cold as ice…”
Whumpee let out a small whimper, their fave scrunching as they nuzzled into the warm touch. Their body was barely trembling, every last bit of energy drained from their being
Whumper’s heart twisted.
Sure, they loved to watch Whumpee suffer, but this… this wasn’t intentional.
They felt… bad.
They felt bad for the poor, pathetic creature that squirmed under their touch, inching closer to the body heat radiating from Whumper’s skin.
They really hadn’t meant to leave the window open. They certainly wouldn’t have done so if they’d known a blizzard was coming.
“Come on, sweetheart,” Ehumper sighed, bundling Whumpee up in their arms and standing up. “Let’s get you warmed up.”
May 27th- “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
[mask|nightmare | painkillers]
Cw: infection, sick fic, injury, blood, fever, implied sedation/drugging, implied medical shit
Caretaker sighed, their hand brushing over Whumpee’s fevered forehead, pushing their sweat-soaked bangs.
“hh..hurts…” Whumpee whimpered, cringing away from Caretaker’s icy hand.
“I know darling, I know. Just a few more hours, then you can have some more painkillers,” They whispered soothingly, pulling their hand away when they noticed it only caused Whumpee more discomfort.
“nn… pl’se….”
“I’m sorry, Whumpee,” They whispered, instead beginning to card their fingers through Whumpee’s damp hair, their eyes traveling down to rest on the bloodstained bandages wrapped around Whumpee’s midriff. If their fever got any worse, they’d have to bring Whumpee to the hospital, despite their protests. They couldn’t risk losing them again.
For now, they could only hope the sedatives would kick in soon.
“I’m so, so sorry. It’ll be over soon, I promise…”
May 23rd- “Please”
[sobbing | falling | rock]
Cw: collapse, injury, exhaustion, crying, bleeding, past abuse, implied torture
Whumpee’s face contorted in pain, beads of sweat dripping down their forehead as the deep exhaustion rooted in their bones only grew. Welted bug bites along their limbs stung and itched, but the discomfort had faded to the back of their mind a long while ago.
Their legs were as stiff as lead beneath them, feeling just as heavy, each step draining away at their already scarce energy levels. Their footsteps were heavy and clumsy, eyes barely cracked open as they stumbled forwards. Their extremities had long since gone numb, a faint trail of blood left behind from the cracked soles of their feet.
They had long since stopped trying to avoid the rocks.
The world swayed around them, the stretches of forests blurring together until trees were nothing but imperceptible streaks of browns and greens.
It was no surprise they didn’t see the tree root, snaking it’s way across their path, hidden under a layer of dead leaves and moss.
A small sob slipped from Whumpee’s lips as they crashed to the ground, their body slipping out of their control, succumbing to the exhaustion.
They were too exhausted to even cry.
