I've Heard About This. Never Experienced It, Surprisingly, But I've Heard Of It.

I've heard about this. Never experienced it, surprisingly, but I've heard of it.

Stabbed

I got a bit of evening inspo and decided to act on it. So, here's my first ever attempt at nameless whump

Tagging: @tildeathiwillwrite @ashirisu

Warnings: Stabbed/ stab wound

----

Whumpee could barely process what was going on. Who's hands were pressing on the wound? There was no shape to them, only blocks of pain pushing into their leg. Who was shouting? They all sounded like distant echos, far away from whumpee.

They could feel the vibrations of the scream and the strain it put on their lungs, but they couldn't hear it. It was all hazy, as if a fog had rolled through whumpee's consciousness.

They had no energy to struggle, and yet they tried. It's all they could do. Part of them knew it wouldn't help, but they just kept doing it.

Their vision was a blur, full of sweat and tears. Whumpee could only make out vague shapes. One person pinning their upper body, their hands pressing into Whumpee's wrists, keeping them restrained. Another sat on their ankles holding Whumpee's legs still as they added the pressure. The horrible pressure.

Whumpee just wanted it to stop, so they struggled and struggled until the fog in their mind finally took hold and they felt free.

:') ow

Whumpee getting a wound stitched up and then being suddenly forced to move/fight/run: they can feel every single stitch pull their skin and tear one by one, with blood slowly seeping through the bandages, knowing they'll have to get them fixed all over again.

Augusnippets Day 2 - Hair Care

Content warnings for: (past) creepy/intimate whumper, (past) implied non-con

~~~~~

Caretaker was being gentle as they combed through Whumpee’s hair. They were constantly fiddling with the temperature of the water to keep it just right, monitoring every tiny bubble in the soapsuds to make sure nothing dropped into Whumpee’s eye. They were careful to avoid the scabbed over cuts in Whumpee’s scalp, and they apologized every time their finger snagged on the tangles and mats in his overgrown hair.

Whumpee didn’t make a sound throughout the whole ordeal - nothing to suggest that anything Caretaker’s finger were doing was actually hurting him, and no assurance otherwise. He sat stiffly in Caretaker’s hold, face stony, mouth pressed into a thin straight line. He was tense, coiled like a spring. Wary. Ready to strike if need be.

Caretaker had insisted that this was necessary, that the dirt and dried blood and dense knots that had accumulated during Whumpee’s time escaping and hiding needed to be taken care of. They promised Whumpee that he would feel so much better, much lighter and livelier, once the hair was clean.

Whumpee knew better. Whumper had always said the same thing, about nice, clean hair making Whumpee feel good. But the actual motives were clear. The way Whumper liked to card his fingers through Whumpee’s hair, and rub at his scalp and neck, was a much easier task withouts gnarls and clumps in the way. Pulling Whumpee’s head close for a deep whiff that always sent gooseprickles down his spine was pleasanter when the hair smelled of flowery shampoo rather than sweat and grime. Nestling his head into Whumpee’s shoulder was cozier when his face could rest against hair that was silken and smooth. Plus, Whumper liked to keep those fancy pillowcases clean.

Sure, so far, Caretaker had done any of those sorts of things that Whumpee had come to expect from Whumper. They’d been going out of their way ever since they found him to be light and gentle with their touch, and only place a hand on him with sufficient warning.

It was almost nice, to be honest.

But Whumpee wouldn’t be fooled twice. Whenever Caretaker did anything now that they told him would help him feel better, feel good even, Whumpee was on his guard. He knew what was coming, what Caretaker would eventually expect.

Still… for a moment… it did feel kind of good, for his hair to be soft and cool and clean again.

Or at least, it probably would feel good. If he could stop himself from remembering that this was how Whumper liked his hair too.

@augusnippets

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.”

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.

😭👍❤️

theatrical/comic relief/otherwise clownpilled whumpee who's last words are "alrighty folks, show's over. go home."