June Of Doom Day 24

June of Doom day 24

“I think I’m going to be sick” (bleeding out/illness/cold sweat)

“I–I think… ’m gonna be sick,” were the last words Whumpee muttered before their eyes rolled to the back of their head and they fell in a dead faint. Caretaker doesn’t remember if they screamed, but they know that they’re clutching Whumpee’s limp body and shaking.

“Wake up, please just–wake up…” Caretaker moaned, clutching Whumpee to their chest.. They didn’t know what to do. Panic stole Caretaker’s medical knowledge from them. They couldn’t think. They didn’t know what was happening to Whumpee, or how to fix it, or if they would die here, trapped in Whumper’s cell. The thought made Caretaker sick. 

“You know that’s pointless, right?” Caretaker felt their entire body tense at the sound of Whumper’s voice. They turned, finding Whumper leaning on the wall just outside of the bars. Caretaker hadn’t heard them coming.

Rage, dulled somewhat by the buzzing in their head, filled Caretaker.“You–you sick fuck,” they tried their best to keep their voice steady, but knew they’d failed from the way Whumpee smirked. “What’d the hell did you do to them?!”

Whumper shrugged. “Not much. We’re moving tonight, and I don’t need you two awake for it,” Whumper reached for their belt, grabbing a set of keys and unlocking the cell door. Caretaker stumbled to their feet, blocking Whumpee from Wumper’s view. Whumper chucked at their attempt at protecting their unconscious cellmate. “No point in trying to wake them up. I gave them enough to knock out someone three times their size,” Whumper made a gesture towards Caretaker. “Had to make sure you both went down after all.”

“You–what?” Caretaker gasped out, fighting to keep their footing. 

The mocking look on Whumper’s face made Caretaker sick. “You’re a doctor or something, right? Can’t you feel when you’re under the influence? Do you think I was just being kind when I gave you two more than moldy bread to eat today? 

It took Caretaker a worryingly long time to recall what’d happened only an hour before. After weeks of scraps, Whumper had finally given them a proper meal. They’d both been starving, so desperate that they’d forgotten just how little they could trust what was given to them. They realized now how horrible of a mistake that had been. 

With swimming vision, Caretaker looked down at Whumpee, nearly stumbling to the ground with the movement. They hadn’t moved from where Caretaker had left them. They were so small, so much smaller than Caretaker was. It was no wonder that they’d been the first to feel the effects.

Caretaker wanted to ask what they’d been drugged with, where they were going, what was even happening, but their tongue had turned to mush in their mouth. Caretaker hit the ground, but didn’t feel the impact. They didn’t feel anything for a long while afterwards.

Hiss

Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10

Warnings: restraints; kidnapping; pet whump; blood; biting, defiant whumpee

Whumper surveyed their new pet as they knelt on the floor, their arms bound behind their back. Whumper was very pleased. This one was very….pretty. “Welcome, my pet.”

“Pet?” Whumpee tilted their head. “That’s a first.”

Whumper frowned. “Yes, pet. This may come as a–”

“Wait, like pet pet?”

Whumper took a slow breath. New pets always took training. This one was proving to be…difficult. “I am your master now. You will listen to me!”

Whumpee rolled their eyes. “Listening has never really been my thing.”

“Then you will learn,” Whumper sneered. They cast about for their crop. This one was testing their patience. 

“I’m assuming you would much rather a warm cuddly pet. Never had a dog. Mother abhorred all things with fur. The man who raised me, he had cats.” Whumpee continued to ramble on.

“What are you going on about, my pet?” Whumper asked as they snatched their riding crop from the desk.

Whumpee’s eyes grew wide as Whumper brought the crop close to Whumpee’s face. Whumper brought it under their chin, lifting it slightly. “I-I was just saying I don’t have much practice with pets.”

“Well, I can teach you, pet.” Whumper whispered. “You were around cats?”

“Sometimes. Not too often. My sister is allergic. But,” Whumpee’s blue eyes shined brightly as Whumper ran the crop down Whumpee’s body. “But I did have a pet once.”

Whumper cupped Whumpee’s face delicately, crop poised to strike if needed. “Oh? My pet had a pet? And tell me, pretty, what did you have?”

The blue eyes turned icy as Whumpee twisted in Whumper’s grasp. “Snakes.” Whumpee bit down on Whumper’s hand that cupped Whumpee’s face. Whumper howled and attempted to strike Whumpee with the crop, but Whumpee lunged forward, shifting Whumper off balance. 

The two of them fell into a heap on the ground, Whumpee thrashing violently as they continued to bite down on Whumper’s hand. Whumper’s pained shrieks drew the attention of their minions who flooded the room and one of the minions hooked two fingers in Whumpee’s nose forcing Whumpee to release Whumper. 

Whumper jumped up, snatched their crop and slapped Whumpee across the face. “That was a bad pet! How dare you bite your master!” They slapped Whumpee again. 

Icy blue eyes stared up at Whumper, defiant as ever. Whumpee licked the blood off their lips. Whumper’s blood. “Hiss hiss, motherfucker.”

Living Weapon Whumpee that doesn't know what to do when Caretaker rescues them.

They only know fighting, and violence, and even sometimes order people around when their handler allows them, what are they supposed to do if Caretaker doesn't need them?

Caretaker is a good person, and they have a lot of security like guards 24/7 and cameras monitoring their house, why would they need Whumpee?

They say they want to help, to make Whumpee get better; but how is Whumpee supposed to be better when they can be useful?

Caretaker doesn't need them. They are safe, and that's a good thing. Then why do they feel so impotent?

If only Caretaker needed them. Or if they lacked guards, then at least Whumpee could be of some use. But no.

They are useless, and when Caretaker sees that, they are going to get rid of Whumpee.

CHOKING IN WHUMP

I know this is like very basic in whump but its something I just CANNOT get over with.

It’s not just about the physical pain but also the mental and emotional anguish. It’s like a perfect storm of fear and helplessness, and that combination really gets me hooked.

Plus, there's something about the dynamic it creates between the whumpee and whumper. It adds layers of control and power plays, which can make the whole situation even more intense. The way it forces characters into such a vulnerable state is just sooo deliciousss.

What I love the most is the thought's that whumpee gets while being choked. When a character is choking, it’s like everything else fades away, and it’s just them and this immediate, life-or-death struggle. The thoughts are the one thing that changes the whole situation. It ramps up the tension and keeps them on edge, wondering how they’ll get out of it or if they’ll even make it.

Whumpee's breaths are ragged, each gasp a desperate plea that falls on deaf ears. The world seems to be narrowing, collapsing into a pinprick of darkness as their lungs scream for air that isn’t coming. Their mind races, a jumble of fragmented thoughts. Is this how it ends?

Whumpee can feel the pressure tightening, relentless. Their vision blurs, and they struggle to focus on anything but the suffocating grip around their throat. The room spins, and their heartbeat feels like it’s trying to break free from their chest. It’s like being trapped in a nightmare where the walls are closing in, and there’s no escape.

There’s an almost surreal clarity in this moment of terror. They think about everything They won’t get to do—no more sunrises, no more laughter, no more moments of peace. All those simple things I took for granted are slipping away, one choking gasp at a time.

Whumpee's hands claw uselessly at the constriction, nails digging into their skin, but it’s like trying to fight a storm with bare hands. Whumpee's thoughts are a blur of panic and regret, all mingled with a helpless resignation. I’m fading, losing grip on everything familiar.

The worst part? The absolute isolation. In this moment, no one can hear my silent screams. I’m utterly alone, drifting into the darkness with only the oppressive pressure as my cruel companion.

Is this it? Is this what it means to truly lose yourself? To have your life squeezed out of you, one choking breath at a time? The fear grips them like icy fingers, and whumpee can’t help but think that there’s no coming back from this.

Oh god oh god oh god Please please Im sorry im sorry

Please let my family be okay..

Finally.

So, yeah, choking in whump isn’t just about the physical act. It’s about the emotions, the stakes, and the dynamic it sets up. :))

My congrats on the follower milestone. For the whump ask thing, perhaps this dialogue?

“My dear Leader, you think you have all the choices right now but really you only have two. You or them? Choose carefully.l

thanks im continuously surprised by how many people put up with my shenanigans <2

cw: creative license was used for this prompt oops, branding, forced to choose, creepy whumper, prisoner whump, team whump, mentions of past torture, implied flogging, restraints and manhandling

Leader had stopped caring. About anything, really. So when the guards chained his hands above him, he let them.

He was past caring. He stared at the tiles with dead eyes. His heart pulsed slowly, each moment dragged out. It was funny, how quickly, everything could fall apart.

Very human fingers brought him out of his mind, grabbing his chin and forcing his face upwards. 

Leader stared at Supervillain. Once– it felt long ago, but it couldn’t have been that long– he would have jerked away from the touch. Snarled a curse. But now he simply couldn’t bring himself to care. So, he took it.

Some of that sentiment must have betrayed itself in Leader's expression because Supervillain's grip tightened, nails breaking skin. “Tired, hm?" They dropped the young man's chin and ran a hand through the strands, the touch deceptively soft before tightening. Supervillain yanked Leader's head up by his hair, forcing him to look straight ahead. "Pay attention."

Two guards brought in a cauldron of burning coals, an iron ominously sticking out. Leader again felt its phantom pain, his side throbbing under its memory. He winced. He couldn’t help it. That– that had hurt. For days. 

There was a brief flicker of sarcasm.

Been there, done that.

It had been a while since Supervillain had resorted to anything so violently painful.

He could take it. 

He’d taken worse. 

Still, Leader did not look at the iron. Or the coals. He stared straight ahead and tried to remember how breathing worked. 

Supervillain smiled down at him like they knew something he didn't. Once the thought appeared, he couldn’t get rid of it. Something was different. Bile worked its way up his throat.

Something was wrong. 

Leader suppressed a shudder.

Before he could take another breath, the other shoe dropped.

A fourth guard carried a bleeding figure into the room. She dropped her burden unceremoniously onto the cold tiles before the cauldron with the branding iron.

The captive's head hit the floor with a sickening thud. They didn’t move. 

Supervillain glanced from the new arrival to Leader, wondering idly when he would make the connection. 

Leader's eyes widened in horror.

Supervillain's smile lit up the room. "Ah, yes. Took you long enough to put two and two together." They leaned in to whisper in Leader's ear. "I found them...oh so alone. A shame, really."

To Leader, the world was spinning and it wouldn’t stop. His vision blurred. 

Surely the captive, with terrible lacerations down their back, barely conscious, visibly shaking– surely, that wasn’t, of all people, Whumpee. 

God. 

Leader made a strangled noise in his throat– a silent scream– like someone had punched him. 

Supervillain stepped back, more than pleased with themself, and beckoned to their guard. They whispered something and the guard nodded. 

Leader couldn’t rip his gaze away from the shaking form that was left of Whumpee. 

Oh.

Oh god.

Leader hadn’t realized he was crying until the tears blurred his vision. He had failed his team. He had failed at the one job he had.

Leader threw up then. His throat burned. Then again, so did his eyes. “Whumpee?” he whispered, the name barely loud enough to be heard. 

No response. 

“What did you do to them?” This too, was whispered. 

No one answered that, either. 

The guard grabbed Whumpee, hauling them to their feet roughly. They cried out when the guard's hands dug into the lashes on their arms.

Leader stiffened. “Let go of them.” Some of the old command worked its way into his voice. 

Supervillain lit a cigarette and flipped the lid of their lighter closed with a flick of their wrist. They nodded to the guard, ignoring Leader.

Immediately, two more guards grabbed Whumpee, shoving them to their knees and bending their arms to awkward angles behind their back. 

Whumpee flinched, shrinking away from their touch. "Please-- P-please don't---"

And Leader snapped. 

That was Whumpee they were manhandling. One of his team. Someone who had stood by him through thick and thin. Someone who had, once, trusted him.

Leader lunged forward. “Don’t touch them! Don’t–” another lunge, the chains digging into his wrists, “Touch them!” 

Supervillain exhaled a breath of smoke. “What an unusual display from you,'' Their voice was sharp, “Pull yourself together.” 

Leader did not pull himself together. He continued to yank against the restraints, all semblance of aloofness gone. “Supervillain, let them go! I’ll do anything. Please!” 

And he meant it. 

Supervillain crouched down beside Leader to exhale another breath of smoke. This time, in Leader's face. “My dear Leader, you think you have all the choices right now but really you only have two." They lowered their voice. "You or them?"

Leader paled to the color of bone. “You– you can’t be serious."

"You remember the branding iron, don't you?" Supervillain's smile was shark-like, bright in the darkness. “You know what that’s like.” They pressed a cold hand against Leader's abdomen, their nails digging into the sensitive skin.

The brand’s phantom pain spread through his entire rib cage, lacing around his bones and coating them, again, in fire. 

Leader stiffened, blood turning to ice in his veins. Fuck. His mouth went dry as he looked from Whumpee, limp in the guard's grip, to the branding iron, red-white against the coals. Again, the floor dropped out from below him, leaving him spiraling.

It took all of his strength to find his voice. "I'll take it."

Supervillain stood up. They grinned. "You know what? You've managed to fuck up my plans so many times...yes, I think I'd like to watch you fuck up for once."

Leader didn't understand. "W-what?"

Supervillain ruffled his hair, patchy and bloodstained. "You never had a choice, dear."

Leader lunged against the chains. “No!” he shouted. “No! I said I would do it--”

His wrist made a snapping sound even as he threw himself again, and again. His voice gave out, cracking into a sob. "Fuck you--"

The guards chained Whumpee to the wall, tightening them to the point until stones dug into Whumpee's raw back.

Leader cursed every foul name when Supervillain picked up the branding iron.  "Don't-- Don't you dare!"

But when Whumpee screamed his name, begging him to make it stop, please, Leader went feral. He struggled frantically-- uselessly. He had never been more useless. The chains did not relent and the hand that held the brand was steady. Crimson blood traced a silky path down his arm, dripping to the tiles.

Whumpee's pleas fell on deaf ears. 

There was the horrible smell of burning skin. 

And a scream.

Leader would never forget that scream. 

Supervillain pulled the brand away, and Whumpee slumped forward, unconscious. Supervillain undid their restraints and let them collapse to the ground, stepping around them with a flicker of disgust. 

They ordered the guards to undo Leader's chains. “There’s not much damage he can do in here," they said.

And they left Leader alone with the battered captive, their still form twitching under the curling remnants of agony. 

Leader dropped down beside Whumpee, knees hitting the floor with all the force of a guillotine dropping. He worked quickly, taking off his own shirt and ripping it apart– first bandaging the brand and then trying to stem the blood from the flogging. It was a messy job and he did it poorly, with only the expertise of having previously done the same work on himself. 

Whumpee's eyes remained closed. 

Despair crouched inside Leader and it smiled. It smiled like Supervillain. Leader cried then. Hoarse sobs that ripped his vocal chords to shreds. 

Whumpee stirred. They exhaled softly– a small groan escaping their lips. They squeezed their eyes shut like they were still hoping this was some nightmare they could escape. 

Leader's voice was gone. He could say nothing. Provide no comfort. No reassurance. It was with hesitant movements that he moved Whumpee's head onto his lap, shielding them with his body as much as he could.

Please tell me you’re alright. 

Tell me we’ll be alright. 

Whumpee's entire body shook.

Nothing was alright.

what are ur fav tropes for stoic whumpees? love da blog

stoic whumpee tropes that are a 100/10:

"I'm fine" and then immediately collapsing in front of their loved ones in a bleeding pile, revealing a hidden injury that has festered for far too long

silent, muffled crying with shaking shoulders and a bloody hand clamped over their mouth because they view crying as weak and beneath them and they're stronger than this, they're stronger, they can take it--

the moment they close their eyes in defeat and it's all over and they fucking know it, and when they open their eyes again all that remains is a glassy-dead stare

adamantly refusing medical treatment even when they need it. Shoving away everyone who comes close to them, a choked sound in their throat, fighting back with everything that's left in them.

when they kneel at Whumper's feet, eyes on the ground, white-lipped and tense. The only betrayal of emotion is their clenched fists and tight breathing. In every other way, they're compliant.

refusing to talk about what they endured at Whumper's hands after they're rescued, but the scars tell the story for them. They don't have to say a word, but their team's pitying gaze follows them wherever they go

normally unaffectionate and distant but exhausted and defeated they rest their head on Caretaker's shoulder or Whumper's lap, just finally admitting--nonverbally-- that they can't take it

reversely, more willing to be tortured than to ask for help-- If I'm breathing, I'm fine

stitching their own wounds back up with an unsteady hand, painful stitch after painful stitch. Deep breath and pull. Working in a dimly lit apartment with bleeding clothes on the floor around them and the bed unmade

sacrificing themself for their team. "Take me! Do what you want to me. Not them." And their team watching as the torture takes its slow toll and Whumpee-- the one they look up-- falls apart.