#augusnippets day 10

[whumper-whimsy]

@augusnippets day 10

execution/ fake execution/ begging for mercy

Captivity, pet whump, threat of murder, begging, guilt.

°

Whumpee screamed through a cloth gag, pulling at their bonds desperately. Strapped to a table, they were helpless to their own fate. Whumper stood above them, a knife gripped in his hands. Caretaker was chained to the wall in front of the two, forced to watch what was happening.

"Caretaker," Whumper said calmly. "I told you enough times that your disobedience will have consequences. It's time I showed you I'm not playing around anymore.

Caretaker yanked at their chains, eyes brimming with tears. "Fuck you! Let them go," they cried, kicking and trying to free themself.

Whumper cut Whumpee's shirt off slowly, exposing their chest. He tapped the tip against Whumpee's skin. "I'll try and make it fast, beautiful. It's a shame you have to die... you were always my favorite."

Caretaker was in a panic, tears spilling past their cheeks. "No, no! Let them go, p- please, they did nothing wrong!"

Whumper paused, smirking. "Then who did?"

"I did!" Caretaker cried, gripping their own hair. "It's my fault I was bad, I'm sorry! I won't misbehave anymore, just please don't hurt them!"

Whumpee looked pleadingly up at Whumper, whining through the gag. Fear coursed through every inch of their body, causing them to shake and tremble. "Mmph, mnph!"

The knife raised into the air dreadfully slow, aimed at Whumpee's heart.

Caretaker was practically in hysterics, shaking their head. "No, sir, please! Master! I'll be so good, I'll be the perfect pet for you—!"

Whumper grinned down at Caretaker, slamming the knife down.

Whumpee flinched, expecting the sharp, intense pain of the knife. Instead, they were met with a loud thunk beside their ear as the knife plunged into the wooden table beside them.

Whumper glared at Caretaker. "That's more like it. Keep it up, and I won't have to take it any further. Whumpee lives for today."

[maybeitsalivescribbles]

DAY 10 – Begging for mercy

“But I’ve already made Hero beg for mercy,” complained Villain. “It was dull.”

Supervillain looked at their employee above their cup of tea, and slowly shook their head.

“You thought you did,” they said. “But how did you do it?”

“I’ve threatened to kill Sidekick, of course. Works every time. It’s not hard.”

Supervillain frowned, then grabbed the honey and poured a little more of it in their drink.

“That’s your problem. If they beg for someone else, that makes it noble. That’s not the same at all than when you make them beg for their own life. Then, you truly have them in your grasp. Then, you’re sure they have broken. Do you understand?”

Villain shrugged, annoyed:

“I think I do, yes. But I don’t know how. They’re pretty prideful. It’s gonna take so much time, and well, I have better things to do.”

“That’s the problem with a side hustle,” agreed Supervillain, taking a sugar roll. “In our time, we just can’t spend our days torturing people like we used to. Fortunately, you don’t have to do it.”

“Really? But I thought-”

“Do you want a sugar roll? They’re really good.”

“No offense boss, but after you poisoned Henchman 1, 2 and 3 with them, I’d rather not.”

“None taken. I salute your vigilance.”

Supervillain took a bite and waved their hand:

“Anyway, people always say that torture is refined. Actually, it’s very simple. Lock your Hero away in a cell and use the “3 No” rule.”

They raised three fingers:

“No food, no human contact, no light. If really they’re as tough as you said, add loud noises blaring at random intervals. Sleep deprivation does wonders. Do whatever you need to do and come back to see them in a couple of days. If they don’t beg, rinse and repeat.”

“You are so learned!”

“I’m good at what I do, Villain. And you’ll be, too, I believe in you. Go- have some fun.”

*

Back to the Hero x Villain Masterlist

Whump/Horror Masterlist

[re-whump]

Augusnippets Day 10 - False Execution

cw: death wish, vampire whumpee, (implied/impending humanish experimentation), stabbing

A turned hunter was a failure.

What else could they be called? The purpose of a hunter was to eliminate vampirism and they had allowed another of the undead parasites to spawn.

He had perfect access to his prey now. There was no need to hunt with the monster staring back at him in the mirror, but he couldn’t bring himself to strike. He was a coward. A disgrace. A mockery of his vows.

Eventually, his partner came to investigate his disappearance and inevitably put him out of his misery. He prepared himself—he did want the loathsome creature dead, he just couldn’t find the will the land the blow himself. He left a note on the door that explained the situation and would serve as his last words, then restrained himself as best he could. Hunger festered in him now, and he didn’t trust his own self control.

His partner was nearly silent as he made his way up to where the vampire waited. They greeted each other neutrally, as if this were any other hunt.

“Make it quick, please,” the vampire said as time dragged on.

The hunter nodded and pulled out a shining blade. The vampire closed his eyes and waited for the sharp blow to land. His chest exploded into pain and he gasped desperately, reflexive for another breath in his punctured lung.

But what twisted most heavily through his veins was dread, not pain. The searing pain was nothing compared to the icy truth that he was still breathing. Still thinking. Still alive.

“I’m just kidding, man, I’m not here to kill you,” the hunter said, sounding amused.

He withdrew his weapon from the vampire’s chest with a laugh. He ran a finger through the bloodless skin knitting itself together. The flesh roiled and pushed away the intrusion until it was as smooth as the day the ex-hunter had been born. The hunter pulled a length of silver chain from his case.

“Bossman says there are much better uses for a spawn as cooperative as you.”

[sufrimientilia]

Harvest

execution | fake execution | begging for mercy @augusnippets Day 10

cw: medical whump, lethal injection, see above

He awoke with all his limbs stretched out over hard cold metal. The air was so cold his breath fogged and melted against the harsh light suspended right above him, and he was entirely naked. Metal clicked and clinked when he started shaking, his wrists and ankles restrained. He tried to turn his head but a leather strap was pinned tight across his brow.

The smell of medical soap was so strong his nostrils might as well have been sterile. His eyes wildly shot around, trying to see everything or anything and only catching harsh fluorescent glares and smooth reflective metal in his periphery. This didn’t look like the usual operating theater, crawling with nurses and researchers and too many monitors tracking every part of him. He wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing.

He swallowed against the dryness in his mouth. Panic mounted in his chest. “Wh… where…”

“Subject MH-248.” He jerked at the voice, some whitecoat with a clear plastic face mask moving to loom at his side. He could hear latex squelching around glass. “You’ve been slated for repurposing. The procedure won’t take long; just relax.”

The whitecoat had gloves on, and they were preparing some sort of vial by giving it a gentle shake and wiping an alcohol pad over the top. Over and over again. Milky liquid sloshed around and around, and then the vial slipped easily into the reservoir of some sort of infusion machine hanging right overhead. It had three ports, and the middle one already held a big capsule of what must’ve been saline. The whitecoat moved to grab a third vial.

“Re… purposing?” he asked. Everything was behind a fine mist, even the cold biting at his skin. Numb despite the anxiety coiling deep within him. He weakly pulled at his restraints and felt the two IVs already inserted in each arm.

“It’s a transitionary procedure. Moving on to a new phase as a subject.” Another vial in the corner of his eye, this one filled with an oily blue liquid. The whitecoat carefully inserted a syringe and added a few milliliters of something else. “You have been scheduled for Harvest.”

His eyes widened. He knew what that was; all the subjects knew. The Harvest was the final, inevitable phase of their stay in the facility. “W-… wait…”

The whitecoat wiped the top of the vial with alcohol, again and again, and inserted it into the last reservoir. The infusion machine gave a mechanical click.

“Stop… stop. Please— just wait, wait.”

“Stay still now.” The infusion machine whirred to life at the press of a button. It was like something started spinning on the inside, churning and churning until the milky liquid traveled down the line.

Down the line, through two tubes, and into each arm.

“Please, please stop! I’m a good subject, I’m still useful, I'll behave—” He jerked at the crash of warmth, a sickly feeling through his veins. Like the liquid was molasses and just too thick to mix with his blood. Too thick and heavy, numbing and tingling under his skin, flooding through him all at once. “I’ll be… I’ll be better, ‘m… I’m still…”

“You’ll still be useful, yes,” the whitecoat assured him. “You're a good subject, and the Harvest fulfills many uses here at the Facility. But your last wishes are noted. Thank you for your willing contribution.”

“N-Nnno…” He lost control of his tongue, slipping uselessly behind dumb lips and a thick pool of saliva. Heavy, heavy, heavy, like everything else that sunk and throbbed under the same syrup haze. “Pl’sss.”

The infusion machine clicked and whirred again. The lines cleared with saline, cool and refreshing, but it just made the world blur and blur even more. The molasses pushed through his core.

“Mm… nnngghh…” He was so scared he must’ve pissed himself. Or maybe it was just the drug, paralyzing all of him piece by piece. It didn’t seem to matter, because there was a drain somewhere at his feet and he was lying naked on the perfect kind of table for all sorts of leaking fluids.

Fuck.

“The exit dose is quite relaxing, I’d like to imagine,” the whitecoat was saying, but even that became harder and harder to hear. “Most subjects don’t even seem to notice.”

The infusion machine gave another click, a gentle hum. Blue slowly overtook the line, traveled down and down, and slipped gently into each arm. And that gentle hum stretched out into one long, long string of sound. Indeterminable and hard to reach.

Fading, fading, fading.

[whumplump]

Day 10 of @augusnippets

Prompts used: execution / begging for mercy

Not used: fake execution

CW: cruel whumper, multiple whumpees, gunshot, character death

Whumpee woke up with a bang. A sudden sound, which didn't seem to come from anywhere in particular, seemed to reverberate in the air. They sat on the bed and looked around the room. Everything was exactly as before, the room maintained the elegance of Whumper's isolated house.

Whumpee got out of bed with intensely sore legs, heading out to investigate the strange sound they heard. The hallway was as rich and chic as the rest of the house. It had several doors that led to other rooms, duly listed with writing at the top of the entrance to each one. The lights in the house were all off, and outside, the morning was rising with a cloudy sky. To the left of Whumpee, the beginning of the hallway joined the living room, which had a glass wall, letting in light. However, the appearance was still gloomy.

BANG!

Then, Whumpee realized what that sound was. A shot. The third, which came soon after, sounded so close that they had the reflex to throw themselves on the ground. Imbued with despair, they got up and ran to the living room to escape. The front door was unlocked, but the handle had a turning system that took precious seconds from the captive. Another shot rang out, accompanied by an agonizing and painful scream coming from another room, then another shot, then silence. Oh, my God! Whumper was killing all the captives in the house!

Finally, the door opened and Whumpee dashed across the yard. It was their chance. With the adrenaline running through their veins, the pain in their legs disappeared.

BANG!

The thud took their breath away and knocked them face down on the grass. Their back burned with piercing pain, and they could no longer move their legs. They tried to crawl through the grass with their hands, digging their nails into the dirt to propel themselves forward.

Seeing that the fugitive was already down and defeated, Whumper walked towards them calmly. They watched their efforts with pleasure, for a few seconds, to put an end to them with a well-aimed shot in their hand. Whumpee screamed in pain.

Whumper crouched in front of them, delighting in their suffering and tears. They held the barrel of the gun to Whumpee's forehead.

"No!" the captive cried. "No, please don't kill me...! Please…”

Whumper thought for a moment.

"You're right. If I kill you, I'll have to pay extra for the cleaners to pick you up. But if I let you live, I'll have to put up with you. The others were more annoying than you, you even were good, I could spare you..."

They made an ironic gesture, running a hand over their chin, as if they were thinking about the best option. Whumpee remained silent, hoping for a positive response…

"Hmm… Nah."

Whumper cocked the gun.

"I have money. I'd rather pay a little more than have this useless, ugly thing like you here."

"What? No, wait—"

BANG.

[whumperwithwings]

Augusnippets Day 10: Execution/Fake Execution/Begging for Mercy

Content: Implied Killing, Implied Violence

"No, please I swear I won't do anything bad ever again, I promise!"

"Maybe you should have promised that before you killed them."

[taters169]

The Tin drabbles

Fake execution

Masterlist

@augusnippets day 10 execution / fake execution / begging for mercy

Tw: tiny whump

John had spent most of the day searching the dark web for his next pet. His current one had been a fluke, a lucky find on the bench of his new house one night. Until then he hadn't known they even existed but searching for information online led him down a rabbit hole of like minded people who traded in the the little pests. The little thing had unlocked such a sadistic streak in him, he'd never enjoyed himself as much as when he had his little toy trembling and sobbing or screaming and begging for mercy.

He finally made his choice and sent off the payment, a female this time. He was already thinking of ways to make his new purchase scream.

For now though he needed to get his old broken toy sorted to be sold on. After his friend Ian had been careless enough to loose his pet resulting in the little thing being smeared all over the road he'd offered him his for a decent price, agreeing to drop it off at the shop he worked in.

John was determined to have his last bit of fun though.

"Well now little pet we are going to have one last obedience test. If you can't obey perfectly after all the years of training I've put into you then you're not worth keeping any more."

John pulled a saucepan from the cupboard and filled it with water. He moved it to the hob and turned back to his pet.

"If you can stay completely silent until I've decided you've done well enough then you can go back to your cage for the night. If you can't manage that then you're done. I'll dispose of you like the little pest you are and get myself a new toy"

John grabbed his toy and dropped it into the pan of cold water. He waited until it found its bearings and was treading water when he turned on the gas. At first nothing happened then as the water began to warm up his pet started looking more and more scared. He could hear it gasping and crying but it still hadn't shouted or cried out yet.

"One minute complete. Let's turn up the heat a little" John turned the knob up further the flames starting to kick around the bottom of the pan. His pet was looking far more uncomfortable now, starting to wince in pain but was still silent

"They say that a frog in a pan of water won't notice the water starting to boil until it's too late, what do you think pet? Will you notice when you start to cook?"

A little grunt of pain and another wince, it was struggling to keep it's head above the water. Suddenly it gave in and started screaming

"No! No no no please no!"

John sighed with exaggerated disappointment as he picked up the pan and dumped it out into a sieve over the sink. The little pet was still screaming even as the scalding water was drained away. He turned on the cold tap and held the sieve underneath the little toy flailing and screaming trying to get away from the rush of cold water.

"Well that was disappointing, you couldn't even last two minutes. Yes it's definitely time I had a new pet, one that knows it's place and will do as its told."

John dumped the sopping wet toy onto the bench and went to fetch some supplies. He opened up the time out tin and grabbed some tape. Starting with the legs he began binding the pet so it wouldn't stand a chance of moving.

"What to do with you hmm? So many delightful choices. Shall I throw you in the river? Those air holes would let water in pretty quickly you'd sink to the bottom as it fills up. Or I could drop you onto the motorway, you'd maybe last a bit longer that way. You'd lie there listening as cars rush past waiting for one of them to drive straight over you crushing you completely flat"

John smiled as he wrapped the toys wrists together it was crying silently, begging him with those sad little eyes. "Or I could just put you in the bin. If you're lucky you'll be incinerated with the rest of the rubbish or you might just end up in the landfill buried under mounds of discarded crap waiting to starve to death."

Wrapping the last bits of tape round and round the pets mouth to gag him properly he shoves him into the time out box and closes the lid

"Come along then my broken little toy let's see what fate you're in for"

John picked up the tin slipping it into his pocket as he left the house

[evilwriter37]

Bewilderment

Augusnippets Day 10

Fake Execution

Rated: mature

Warnings: general themes of death

------

The stone was rough under his cheek, maybe even cutting into it. It smelled… sharp, like it hadn’t been washed save for by the rain. The reddish tone in the gray implied that too.

The boot on his face was heavy, crushing. It smelled of dirt and other things he didn’t particularly want to think about.

He was shivering, and not just from the cold biting into his skin and under his clothes. 

This was an executioner’s block. Hiccup had never thought he’d end up here, his head about to be severed from his body. 

Oh gods, he felt the blade of the axe at the back of his neck as Ryker took aim…

He squeezed his eyes shut, praying to every god he knew.

Laughter burst from Ryker, and at first, Hiccup thought it was laughter at his fate.

But then Viggo began to laugh, and the crowd began to laugh. Hiccup didn’t understand. Shouldn’t he be dead by now? What was going on?

And then the boot came off his face and he was grabbed by the hair and pulled off the block. Viggo was now in front of him, wearing a look of glee and amusement.

“Oh, the bewilderment on your face, my dear boy!” He slapped his knee as if this was the best joke to ever be told. “I’m not going to kill you!”

“I… Wha…? Why…?” Hiccup didn’t even know where to begin.

Viggo pulled him close by the hair, these next words apparently only for him.

“But you’re going to sorely wish I did.”

[missr3n3]

Augusnippets Day 10

execution/fake execution/begging for mercy

fandom: cabin tales prequel to day 8 TW: torture, electrocution, forced to watch, unethical human experimentation, major character death word count: 496 @augusnippets

Rachel's hands had an iron grip around her mouth. The dry, frigid basement air stung at her wide eyes. Her knees buckled, a chill coursing through her entire body.

None of her discomforts compared to what she just witnessed.

“Wha… What the hell?” she squeaked, stepping back from the sight displayed through thick, tinted glass.

Roderick. Kevin. Sam. Jeremy. All writhing in agony from a shock Rachel feared would kill them – perhaps should've killed them. Though she couldn't see Sam or Jeremy well from the window's position, she assumed they had similar, blistering burns around their wrists, upper arms, ankles and neck.

“Hm, thought they would've figured out the premise sooner,” Mr. Barnett sighed.

“Y-you didn't tell them!?” Rachel gasped.

“The idea was to control for more variables than prior attempts at this.” Mr. Barnett quirked an eyebrow. “If they were told this is a prisoner's dilemma, they could've strategized beforehand, sullying the results. If you want to really test humans’ trust in each other, such things must be taken into account.”

“But this – then this is kidnapping! It's illegal!”

“You say that like some of the most valuable research into human behavior isn't also ethically or legally dubious. Does the name MK Ultra ring a bell?”

Rachel feared her throat would completely close up. Her mind raced, desperately trying to cut through the boys' resumed bickering to find a way out. For herself, and for them.

“But… But what the hell are you going to do with the results, then?” Rachel tried with a nervous, tense smile. “I-if what happens here goes public, you'll be arrested! S-so, we should just get them out of here and try-”

“Oh, Rachel,” Mr. Barnett cooed, resting an elbow against the glass with a small, chilling smile. “This isn't about fame, prestige, academic accolades. This…” Mr. Barnett beamed as he started the timer again. Rachel thought her heart would stop from the sheer shock of Kevin's frantic, terrified screams. “This is about knowledge. The truth!”

“Wha..? Who cares about that!” Rachel snapped, voice rasping from encroaching tears. “You can't do this to people!”

“Too late now.” Mr. Barnett shrugged. “I can't do anything now that the timer's started. It's up to them.”

Them…

Rachel snapped her attention to the window, beating against the unwavering glass with all her might.

“GUYS!” she screamed. “DON'T VOTE! DON’T PRESS ANYTHING! PLEASE!” Any further words were silenced as she watched Kevin and Roderick press the dials. “Oh fuck…” she whimpered. “Oh fuck, there's gotta be something, there's gotta-”

“Well! It's about time they figured it out.” Mr. Barnett clasped his hands in pride.

“No, NO! STOP!” Rachel desperately grasped Mr. Barnett's shoulders. Just as she did so, her ears rang from the booming screech of arcing electricity. “YOU'RE KILLING THEM!”

“Incorrect,” Mr. Barnett calmly chided, pointing behind Rachel. “They're killing him.”

At Mr. Barnett's words, the foulest stench Rachel had ever encountered stung at her nose.

Burning meat mixed with ozone.

[jedi-lothwolf]

Augusnippets Day 10: Begging for Mercy

Fandom: The Dragon Prince

Summary: Aaravos tries to argue with Cosmic Judges for Leola.

    Aaravos couldn't seem to understand why his daughter was being punished for giving the humans magic. The girl had done it out of love, not mallis. She was young and didn't know she was breaking some old code. 

    Standing in front of the Cosmic Judges, the startouched elf tried to plead his daughter's case. As they argued, he could feel Leola slipping out of his fingers. Would he really lose his daughter?

    "She is but a child!" Falling to his knees, he yelled at the judges. "Show her mercy!"

    The judges stayed quiet, cold in their decision. The girl had broken their code. It had been written to keep them safe as well as to protect their future. Now that the humans had magic, their downfall would begin.

    "She has broken the cosmic order." The stern one spoke.

    "She didn't know any better! I allowed her!"

    Leola tugged on her father's clothing, "Daddy?"

    Trying to calm his voice, Aaravos spoke. "It's alright. It will be okay." Kneeling down to his daughter, he tried to comfort her.

    Deep down, Aaravos knew he would lose. That didn't mean he wouldn't try. After all, how could he give up on his daughter?

    So the elf argued. He fought with all of strength; trying to have the judges grant his Leola mercy. Maybe it would be an act of mercy to him too. After all, what kind of parent wants to lose their child before they die?

[jamiesfootball]

Augusnippets Day 10

Prompt: begging for mercy

cw: implied/referenced offer of prostitution (in a quid pro quo sort of way) (not Rebecca's idea)

Summary:

Rebecca attempts to send Jamie back to Manchester. Jamie attempts to change her mind. (episode coda for s1e06 'Two Aces')

Here on AO3

“Please.”

“I’m so sorry,” said Ms. Welton. With a dismissive turn, she picked up her coat, a clear signal that the discussion was over.

Jamie couldn’t breathe. Stars flickered in the corners of his eyes.

He forced his tone into something casual. “Please. I’ll do anything, yeah? Don’t send me back.”

“I’m afraid it’s out of my hands, Jamie. City called; they’re retracting–“

“Bullshit. They’re already in line to win this season. They don’t need me back. Come on, I- please, Ms. Welton. Just tell me what I did, and I’ll fix it.”

Ms. Welton snorted, a surprisingly harsh and cruel sound that cut across the office like a gunshot.

“There’s nothing to fix! And just to be clear, because you asked, it’s your attitude. Your behaviour since you arrived at this club has been nothing short of abhorrent. You’re rude to your teammates, rude to your manager. The question isn’t what you can do to stay, it’s why I didn’t think to get rid of you sooner!”

“I can score goals.”

“Yet not enough to keep us from sliding down the table. And certainly not enough to make up for the frankly abysmal lack of sportsmanship you display on the field. No, the fact of the matter is that Richmond no longer requires your services–“

“Please.”

“--and not even if you got down on your knees and begged would I change my mind.”

Thump.

Ms. Welton froze with her scarf half-wrapped around her neck. “What are you doing?”

He stayed on his knees.

“Enough of this,” she barked. A shrill noise escaped her throat when he didn’t move. “Get up!”

“I told you,” he said through numb lips. His head was white with staticky panic, the kind that matched the scratchy carpet under his knees.

He steeled his spine, fighting back against the nausea that threatened to rise up.

“Anything,” he swore.  “Anything you want. Anything you ask me to do, I’ll do it—no questions asked. I’ll apologise to Ted. To Sam. To Roy, the old grumpy bastard. I’ll pass the ball. I’ll join the second team. I’ll keep the bench warm for the rest of the season, but I can’t go back. You can’t send me back. Please. Please. There’s got to be something you want. I can be useful, just name your price.”

“This is ridiculous-“

“Is it money? More sponsors? I can woo them for you. Cheryl wasn’t the only one who copped a feel when she slipped me her number. I can have this place swimming in cash. Sponsors, good press, you name it, I’ll- I’ll fucking do it, just tell me what I need to do, please don’t send me back-“

Rebecca’s hand on his face silenced him. She hadn’t turned the lights on when she led him to her office, and the trash can fire felt a million light years away, nothing more than a flickering memory under the cold presence of her stare.

He was suddenly, sickeningly aware of how his position on his knees meant she towered over him like a statue. Her nails brushed against his cheek, light and unintentional, and he struggled to breathe around a sharp edge of panic.

He was going to be sick, he thought hysterically as his spine turned to liquid. He was going to be sick all over her shiny heels, and then what?

He felt small.

Her eyes glimmered with pity, and for a second she wasn’t scary at all. Her scarf sat unfinished in a complicated knot around her neck. Her lips parted unhappily, as if something about Jamie upset her. As if she was beholding something truly awful, low and pitiful, unworthy of the time it would take to put down.

Like she was looking into his soul.

Her expression hardened in decision.

“If I do something for you,” she said hoarsely, cinching her scarf closed with one final tug. “Then you have to do something for me.”

He nodded.

“No questions.”

He nodded, head bobbing along like the figure at the bottom of a rope.

She told him what she wanted. No sooner than she had finished speaking that words of agreement slipped out of his mouth, because he’d already known he’d say yes to whatever she demanded. Everyone had a limit, a price, and hers was so easy that relief swam in his eyes, blurring his vision.

He could’ve cried right there into her skirt if she hadn’t ordered him to stand up already. I’ll send you the details in the morning.

Jamie left her office in a fog, giddy and confused and trembling with a nervous terror that had his hands shaking on his car door. He couldn’t imagine what her angle was, but he didn’t need to. He didn't need to know why to do a good job; he just had to do what he was told.

He was going to do what she’d asked him to do better than she even dreamed, and then she’d never think about sending him home again.

“Help me destroy Coach Lasso.”

He already had ideas.

[deviant-doughnut]

Augusnippets: Day Ten

Chosen Prompt: Begging For Mercy

CW: home invasion; violence; creepy whumper; blackmail involving non-con; discussion of non-con

“Don’t do it,” Whumpee whispers. His plea disappears into the dark of his bedroom. He peers at the eyes flashing back through the shadows, at the figure standing over Caretaker’s limp form. Whumper’s eyebrows quirk, affected dissatisfaction. Caretaker’s wrists and ankles are tied. He’s a heap of crumpled limbs on the floor.

Whumper’s blade is a glint in the darkness. He touches its tip to Caretaker’s skin, to the exposed and vulnerable column of his throat. Whumpee’s not bound but he’s totally frozen, half naked beneath the bedcovers. He was the one who heard the glass shatter, roused by the sounds of something wrong in their home. Caretaker had gotten up to investigate. When he thinks of it like that, this is all Whumpee’s fault.

Whumpee shakes his head, desperation building. Caretaker has been out cold since the struggle, since the intruder landed a deft blow to his temple. Whumpee’s voice comes out strained this time.

“Please,” he says.

“Please what?” asks Whumper, faux innocence, voice muffled yet sickly sweet beneath the fabric of his mask. “Use your words, sweet boy. Full sentences or I sever his jugular.”

“Please don’t,” Whumpee manages. “Please let us go. Please don’t hurt my boyfriend.”

“Hurt?” Whumper challenges, his voice pitched as though it’s a game. Whumpee heaves a shuddering breath. He trembles and clutches the covers.

“Don’t kill him,” he whispers. “Please don’t kill my boyfriend.”

“That’s better,” Whumper teases, but he keeps the blade close, trails it featherlight over Caretaker’s neck, a demonstration of where he would cut him. His eyes flick back to Whumpee now, something dangerous set in their spark. “Does he protect you? Does he make you feel safe?”

Whumpee swallows.

“He was going to protect you from me, right?” says Whumper. “Before I showed him who’s in charge of you both. Wasn’t he?”

“Y-yes,” Whumpee whispers. Whumper’s eyes glint cruelly, his lips curling upwards under the mask.

“I can tell you need protecting,” says Whumper. “Come here, meek boy. Get out of your bed and come stand with me. Do everything I say and I’ll let you both go. It’s not gonna take very long, I promise.”

“O-okay,” says Whumpee. He pushes the covers back slowly, sheets sliding as he slips from the bed. Caretaker’s breaths are long and deep. He’s alive but his stillness is chilling. Whumpee staggers closer to the two of them, to where Whumper trails the blade over his boyfriend’s skin. But when Whumpee’s shadow casts over them both, Whumper stands slowly to rise out of it. He’s taller than Whumpee, broader. His chest swells with the depth of his breaths.

“Closer,” he urges. Whumpee obeys, bare feet shuffling over the hardwood. “Good boy. Would you like me to let you go now?”

“Please,” Whumpee answers, his chest alight with hope. “Please let us go. Please don’t hurt us. Please—“

“I won’t hurt you,” Whumper interrupts. “Not if you give me something I’d rather have. Think of it like paying a fine. Get it over with and then you can get on with your life.”

Whumpee swallows, can’t look him in the eye now. He stares down at his unconscious boyfriend.

“What-what…” Whumpee starts, voice soft, barely a whisper. “Wh-what would you rather have?”

When the answer doesn’t come he looks up at Whumper. He regrets meeting his eye almost instantly.

“A blowjob,” says Whumper. His eyes flash with hunger, and Whumpee’s stomach slips. “A fucking good one, by the way. Gag if you have to, cry all you want, but don’t scratch me with your teeth and don’t stop until I’m finished with you. Swallow, don’t spit. I can tell you're not the fighting type, but if you bite me I’ll slit his throat as your punishment. Thank me for it afterwards, and don’t untie your boyfriend until I’m gone. Think you can follow my rules, gentle boy?”

“I-I….” Whumpee starts. His heart pounds, his blood whirs. His beautiful boyfriend has bruises on his face, and the intruder eyes Whumpee like prey.

“Did you hear me?” Whumper demands, voice deeper and louder at once. Whumpee flinches. “I said get on your fucking knees. The longer you hesitate, the sooner he’s gonna wake up. You don’t want him to see us together, do you?”

Whumpee’s stomach roils. He peers from his boyfriend to the man standing over him. The intruder’s pants are tented already. He palms himself lazily as Whumpee’s eyes well.

“No,” he whispers. “N-no. I don’t want him to see it.”

“You’re saving his life,” says Whumper. Whumpee nods, as if any of this is logical. Caretaker was only trying to protect him, was only trying to protect them both. Now that mantle has been passed onto Whumpee, and there’s no way he could do it by fighting. He’s a pacifist, really — and even if he wasn’t, his body isn’t built for strength. He’s never had to fight like that in his life. With Caretaker’s life hanging plain in the balance, it’s too risky to start fighting now. Whumper’s blade glints like a threat, a matching spark in his waiting gaze. Caretaker has always protected Whumpee. If this is going to save their lives, he can do it and then just forget. He can do it, and save them, and tell Caretaker he negotiated, or that a noise from the parking lot spooked the guy.

Whumpee takes a trembling breath, and sinks down onto his knees.

-

Thanks to @augusnippets for this event!

[sylsoddsandends]

hey. hey @the-professional-cocomeloner. thanks for tipping me off to this prompt list. I'm doing it sooo out of order and also late but I'm doing it

and as for all the folks in the rsmg server. your fault for getting me in the whump mood. enjoy <3

Augusnippets Day 10

Prompts used: execution, begging for mercy

Tw: Major character death, crushing to death

Andrias snatched up Marcy in one quick swipe of his massive palm. She struggled in his hand, staring down in terror at her friends.

With his other hand, Andrias set down his sword, delicately plucking the Calamity Box from Marcy's hands and shutting it. The portal closed, Anne and the Plantars unable to flee through it.

Andrias slapped Sasha and Grime aside with a swing of his tail, and passed the Box to a robot.

"It seems I have an opportunity to demonstrate how we handled traitors to the crown," he laughed grimly.

Marcy wriggled ineffectually, barely able to speak with the pressure of Andria's hand on her chest and diaphragm. "Please–" gasp- "please no, no–"

"It's too late," Andrias scoffed. "You've taken your side."

The king put his hands together. He slowly tightened his grip.

Grime winced. The Plantars covered their eyes. Sasha covered her mouth. Anne cried.

The scream was short. The snapping and crunching was horrifying.

Blood dripped from between his giant hands.

[inscrutable-shadow]

Augusnippets Day 10 - Path of Hurt - Begging for Mercy

this one is exactly 100 words :)

He hung by his arms, suspended in midair. Blood oozed slowly from the wounds driven into his hands by silver nails, collected near his elbows, slid down his back. He appeared to be in a stupor, save for the raw screams that would wrench forth from his shredded throat each time the switch was thrown, lighting his body with electricity from within.

A pause in the torment. His captor approached, tracing lightly, idly along the red lightning-bolt scars that spread from the spikes over his arms, chest, and neck. He croaked, unintelligibly.

"What, now? Speak up."

"Please. Please. No more."

[blinded-and-bloody]

Day 10 of @augusnippets

Prompt: Begging For Mercy

WC: 252

They were both already dead.

Or rather, Ron was a dead man, and he was fairly certain his father had never truly been human to begin with.

“Come on, Ron, not even gonna beg?”

“Beg for what?” Ron asked.

“For your son?” His father suggested. “Your granddaughter? Did you know you have a granddaughter now?”

“No.”

He hadn’t known that. It was hard to know anything new when you were dead.

It was easy to remember, though. It was easy to remember that his father was a liar. And that he didn’t do the things that he said he would do.

Groveling would not save his son and granddaughter — only benevolence, of which his father had none. Yet, even knowing that, Ron had no weapons in his arsenal.

“Well, Ron?”

When he looked into his father’s eyes, he knew it was pointless. He just wanted to see Ron beg, no intent to protect their lineage from his control.

“Please.”

“Ah ah, full sentences. Please-?”

“Please, sir, don’t— don’t hurt my family.”

His father rolled his eyes. “Can’t get through a single sentence without stuttering — fucking pathetic. Well, look on the bright side, kiddo, you’ll see your dumb fucking kid and your shitty granddaughter soon.”

Ron thought, over twenty years ago now, that he had finally beaten his father. That he had saved the day, saved his family, gotten his happily ever after.

Now he knew he had simply delayed the battle, and there was nothing he could do to stop the inevitable.

[udaberriwrites]

A drabble for @augusnippets' day 10!

Path of Hurt - Execution

Fandom: Omniscient Reader's Viewpoint

Characters: Yoo Jonghyuk, Kim Namwoon

Timeline: First scenario - failure

Rating: M, tw: light gore, murder

This regression ends before it can truly begin.

“Kim Namwoon.”

The Delusional Demon’s clothes are dyed red. He leaves bloody footprints on the asphalt as he walks. It's been so long since they’ve encountered each other that Yoo Jonghyuk almost doesn't recognize him.

The days of their companionship are long over. Jonghyuk knows whose blood he's spilled.

“Who the hell—”

The sword pierces cleanly through Kim Namwoon’s throat, severing his tongue and lodging into his brain.

“Dogs should know their place.”

Afterwards, Jonghyuk cleans the blood off and presses the blade to his own heart.

He’ll be faster next time.

_

Full prompt list here

AO3 collection here