#summerofwhump11

[blogger360ncislarules]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: NCIS: Hawai'i Rating: General Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Joe Milius/Jane Tennant Characters: Joe Milius, Jane Tennant, Jesse Boone Additional Tags: summer of whump 2022, Forced to Watch, possible PTSD, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Romance Summary:

Joe gets forced to watch something very disturbing.

@summer-of-whump

[equestrianwritingsstuff]

Summer of Whump #11: Branding

Warnings: maybe a creepy hero whumper

Villain screamed, loud and clear as the heros shoved a burning metal into their arm. They clenched their teeth. Don't fight back, don't fight back. It's a test... it's a...

Villain screamed again, agony cutting off their thoughts. They balled their fists as another white flash of pain exploded in their eyes.

Then it stopped and Villain collapsed forward, only to be caught and held by one of them. They sniffled and turn their face towards the young hero's shoulder. They were about the same age, nineteen, and Villain always tried to seek comfort in them.

"Well, well," the leader purred, but their was a hint of disappointment in their voice. "Looks like you passed. There is hope for you after all."

Villain only nodded and tried to hold back tears. Even with the initial pain of contact gone, it was still there, egging them to lash out. They curled their fingers into Hero's shoulder blade. The hero stiffened and gently shook to make Villain stop.

"Now," Leader bent down and pressed their finger into Villain's newly burned flesh. They let out a whimper and shuffled closer to Hero.

"You are just like us," they whispered into Villain's ear. "You have our mark." Leader rolled up their sleeve to reveal their own mark, a wolf with the letter "H" in its forehead.

Villain tried to not to notice the difference. Leader's was a tattoo. So was Hero's. And so was everyone else's. But Villain's was a brand. Excruciating painful and forced. Yes, they wanted to be a hero more than anything, but it was just so... unnecessary.

"I hope you sleep well tonight knowing that it fact are one of us," Leader murmured, causing Villain to press closer into Hero's body.

"Because you worthless runt is gonna need it for your next mission," Leader grabbed Villain's earlobe and pulled harshly down. Villain clenched their teeth and took in shuddering breaths.

"Scared?" Leader stood up and kicked Villain directly in the ribs. "Because you won't-"

"Enough," Hero suddenly cut in, glaring daggers at Leader who stepped backwards and scowled.

"Hero, don't you dare..." Leader warned.

"Just don't taunt them," Hero adjusted Villain so that they could protect them better. Villain nestled close to them, to scared and hurt to do much else.

"You aren't in charge here," Leader stepped forward again.

"Nor are you," Hero reached backwards for their phone. "I can just contact the authorities at Organization and send a picture of evidence. You job will be over, my friend."

"Gah," Leader exclaimed and stomped towards the door. "I want them gone by tonight or- or..." Leader trailed off before resuming their warning, "I don't care about the authorities." And they left the room.

[cyhyr]

Summer of Whump Day 11: Branding

Fandom: Naruto

Rating: T (swearing)

WC: ~2240 for this part / ~41.2k total

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply; coercion; forced marriage (of a sort)

Notes: References to canonical character death. An AU of sorts, where Danzō ends up taking over as interim Hokage after Hiruzen dies.

A/N: I'm making shit up as I go, including motives. This happened because I needed a scenario in which a character can be branded and I need a bad guy and a motive. It's not solid, it's barely shakey. But I like it so w/e. Sorry for being a day late on this one; it's GIANT compared to my others.

A/N 2: Combo with my Bad Things Happen Bingo Board square: Forced to Hurt Someone

EDIT 3/4/2022 TO INCLUDE FULL WC AND LINKS TO THE REST OF THE FIC

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | Read on The Archive

~

On the day after Sandaime-sama’s funeral, Iruka is hustling at the mission desk along with two other chūnin. He’s grateful for the academy break, at least while the village is restored; he doubts his students’ attention spans at the best of times, and with construction in much of the village it would be a fool’s errand to try and teach. And so, he organizes construction efforts and hands out assignments to relevant teams as they arrive at the Desk.

Of course, if there’s one thing working at the Desk is good for, it’s keeping himself in the know of the village gossip—and, sometimes, the politics.

“Did you hear? The council is going to ask Jiraiya-sama to be hokage.”

“I heard that Danzō-dono is taking over the duties of Sandaime-sama.”

“Sandaime-sama would never have wanted Danzō-dono to succeed him.”

“Well it’s not up to him now, is it?”

Iruka checks over a report and grins. “Thank you for your hard work, Kurenai-sensei.” He stamps it, and sets it in the basket at his elbow with the other accepted reports for the day. “Is your team available for another?” he asks.

She smiles and nods. “We are. Kiba-kun is itching for something particularly physical, if you have it.”

“I may have just the thing.” He stands up and waves Kurenai along, but hardly makes it halfway across the room before two ANBU are flanking him. The room falls in a hush.

“Umino Iruka, you’ve been summoned by the interim Hokage, Shimura Danzō-sama,” one of the ANBU said. “We’re here to escort you.”

“I—” Iruka looks around and nods hesitantly. Kurenai looks suspicious, and gives him a subtle nod of her own. “Alright. Lead the way then, ANBU-san.”

He’s led out of the Desk and through the halls of the Hokage Tower, one ANBU leading and one following him. Iruka does everything he can to keep from looking nervous, but the two of them are purposefully leaking sinister-feeling chakra and it’s hard. He at least keeps himself from looking over his shoulder at the one behind him.

After the second flight of stairs down, Iruka realizes that the ANBU aren’t taking him to the Hokage’s office, where he assumed he would meet with Danzō. He clenches his hands in tight fists to keep them from twitching in his anxiety. What is in the basement of the hokage tower that Danzō needs him for?

“Iruka-sensei!”

He turns around and at the end of the hallway, jogging up to meet him, is Asuma. Iruka feels the tiniest bit relieved; Kurenai must have sent him.

Asuma grins wide as he slows his approach, ignores the ANBU who had been following Iruka, and puts a hand on Iruka’s shoulder. “How are you doing?”

“I’m alright,” he says carefully. “I apparently have a meeting with the interim hokage.”

“Yeah, I heard,” Asuma nods. “Put the whole Desk in an uproar when you left!”

Heard: People are Worried.

Iruka’s right to be worried, too, it seems.

“Actually, I wanted to pick your brain about a seal thing. Boys,” Asuma addresses the ANBU pair, “I’ll deliver Iruka up to Danzō in a few minutes, okay?”

“We’ll stay with the sensei until you’re finished,” the talkative one says.

“No, no, I insist. Plus,” Asuma pulls Iruka against his side and wraps his arm around Iruka’s neck and shoulders, “after yesterday, I need a little bit of alone time with my little brother, got it?”

Iruka doesn’t let himself react beyond leaning a bit into Asuma’s hold. The ANBU pair seems almost… put off? But the talking one says, “Fine. But we will come to collect him in ten minutes if he hasn’t arrived.” Then they both swish away like they were never there, and Iruka finally lets out an anxiety-ridden breath.

“You haven’t called me your little brother in years,” Iruka mutters.

“Yeah, well.” Asuma steps away and scratches the back of his head. “Anyway, look, you need to come with me.”

“For what?”

“Would you believe me if it really was about a seal?”

Normally, he wouldn’t. But odder things have happened today, so Asuma being interested in a seal sounds about right.

They go down another flight of stairs and down a hallway to a door marked with an 11. Asuma knocks a few times, clearly in a set pattern, and waits for it to open. Iruka stands back and looks up and down the hall, still feeling watched. He wouldn’t put it beyond those ANBU to have cloaking abilities.

The door opens and Asuma gestures for Iruka to go in first. It seems like a typical basement room, with gray cinderblock walls and exposed wiring on the ceiling. Every few meters there’s a light hanging from the ceiling, enough to illuminate the space well. At the far end of the room is a small fireplace, lit with a hot, blazing flame.

Between the fireplace and the door is a thin wooden table with one chair tucked up against it. There are unrolled scrolls spread out across the surface, and an inkwell and brush sit in the middle of the table.

The two figures in the room look up from their work.

Nara Shikaku, the jōnin commander.

And Hatake Kakashi, that absolute stuck-up asshole—

“Asuma, thanks for bringing him,” Shikaku says.

“Better than Danzō getting his hands on him,” Asuma says.

“What’s—” Iruka steps forward as he starts to ask a question, but then catches sight of the seal and his question changes mid-sentence. “—the fuck is this about???”

Because even upside down, he can read the seal—of course he can read the seal, Hiruzen-sama had been trying to get him to test for tokujō for the last year and a half for his work in fūinjutsu—and catches Own, Will, Control, Belong, Home, and Join within its script.

The jōnin in the room don’t even try backtracking.

“Iruka, you need to keep calm and listen,” Asuma says.

“I’m as calm as I’m going to be! What kind of archaic, barbaric—?”

“Danzō intends to seal your voice and will,” Kakashi cuts in. He’s got his hands spread out on the table, his head hung between exhausted shoulders, and Iruka stops because… um, what?

“Why?” Iruka murmurs, finally feeling the fear. “What did I do?”

“He thinks you’d be a security risk,” Shikaku says. “Your clearance is high, you used to have the ear of the Sandaime, and you’re only a chūnin yet never went through the kind of torture resistance most jōnin receive standard.”

“Add that to your relationship with Naruto,” Kakashi continues, “and sealing you so you can neither spill village secrets nor go against Danzō’s will is an obvious solution.”

“Naruto? What does he want with Naruto?”

“We have reason to believe Danzō wants to control Naruto to use as a weapon for Konoha,” Kakashi says. “You’re one of the few people Naruto considers family. Control you, control the fox.”

“He probably has his own way of potentially controlling Naruto by himself,” Shikaku says. “But using Naruto’s family isn’t below Danzō.”

“So, what’s with this seal?” Iruka says, pointing at the table. “Were you just studying parts of the seal Danzō uses, or...?”

“It’s a solution,” Asuma says.

“As you said, an archaic one,” Kakashi sighs. “And, yes, also barbaric.”

“But one that would settle the issue of your supposed security risk,” Shikaku assures him, “and, if we design it correctly, would prevent Danzō from placing his own seal on you as well.”

“You want me to subject myself to that,” Iruka points to the seal on the table. Own, Will, Control—his stomach turns thinking about those words being painted on his skin.

“Would you rather become something less than a voiceless doll for Danzō?” Kakashi snaps.

Iruka flinches, and looks down and away.

“You wouldn’t be able to teach. You’d be no better than a constant hostage to be used against Naruto.” Kakashi’s voice softens, just a bit. “That’s no life, especially not for you.”

“Iruka—”

He cuts Asuma off. “What is it?” he asks. He steps up to the table, across from Kakashi, and points down at the script. “I’m particularly confused about these ones: Belong, Home, and Join. I understand the point of the others.”

“It’s…” Kakashi seems hesitant to answer, but a look at both Shikaku and Asuma brings forth a sigh, and an explanation. “It’s a spousal brand,” he says, and there’s a hint of pink on his cheekbone, visible just under his eye. “You’d be sealing yourself into my clan.”

Iruka shakes his head, “Why yours?”

“Because it’s a Hatake seal,” Kakashi says, pointing to certain parts of the script. “These places, here, and here, and here; it’s not just fūinjutsu, this seal requires familial blood to work.”

“I’m already Sarutobi by unofficial adoption,” Iruka looks over his shoulder at Asuma. “Do you not have something similar in your archives?”

“Even if we did—and I’m not sure we do—it wouldn’t be enough,” Asuma says. “I can’t be that for you, Iruka.”

“And Kakashi-san can??”

“I can be anything you need me to be,” Kakashi says. Iruka looks up at him and tries not to seethe, but he looks so tired. “Look, it’s either this, or a voiceless hostage beside Danzō for gods know how long.”

Own, Will, Control

There’s really no choice, is there? “Evil you know, evil you don’t,” he mutters. Beside him, Asuma searches his pockets like he’s going to find a cigarette and light up. Shikaku turns away.

Kakashi taps one finger on the table, waiting.

“Own, Will, Control,” Iruka reads, putting the tips of his fingers over those words in the script. Shakily, he nods his head. “Just. Just please, promise me that you won't keep me locked up—”

“Sensei, no,” Kakashi reaches across the table and places his hand on top of Iruka’s. “You’re too important to the village; it’s why we’re here, doing this in the first place. I could never—well,” he stops, winces, and then continues, “if Danzō finds another way, anything goes to keep you safe. But I won’t ever use the seal in the brand; I’ll promise you that. Nothing needs to change if you don’t want it to.”

Iruka takes Kakashi’s gaze and keeps it. “You said, a brand, right?” At Kakashi’s nod, Iruka continues, “You’ll need to-to burn it into my skin?”

Another nod. “Your neck, specifically.”

Iruka steps back from the table and unzips his flak vest, then slips it off and sets it on the back of the chair. He then takes a steadying, deep breath; then pulls off his shirt and also drapes it over the back of the chair.

Kakashi is staring. “You’ll do it?”

“I don’t have much choice, do I?” Iruka smiles sadly. He sits down and waves Kakashi over to his side of the table. “I don’t have much experience with burns,” Iruka admits, chuckling.

“You might pass out from the pain,” Shikaku warns him.

“The room has been soundproofed, so if you need to scream just go for it,” Asuma says, trying to be reassuring.

Kakashi says nothing at first, just lifts up his hitai-ate and looks down at the script with the sharingan, then starts his hand seals. “I never wanted to do this,” he murmurs, “But I can’t sit back and watch Danzō use you.”

“I understand. I suppose I’ll thank you for it, someday,” Iruka says.

Kakashi pauses, says, “Please just… give me your consent once more. Let me know I’m not—”

“Brand me, Kakashi,” Iruka says, looking straight up into Kakashi’s eyes—gray and red, spinning slowly— “Seal me to you.”

He watches Kakashi’s gray eye widen, then he finishes the sequence and presses both hands to either side of Iruka’s neck. Only one of Kakashi’s hands is lit up with fire, but it’s enough.

Iruka screams.

Shikaku and Asuma each grab one of Iruka’s arms and shoulders to keep him seated and still while he tries valiantly to pull back away from Kakashi’s burning hand. Sweat beads and rolls down from his hairline; he thrashes forward when pulling back doesn’t work. His pulse skyrockets and he can’t breathe.

It hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts—

Then the fire is gone but the heat is still there, burning him to the bone and gods he can’t breathe—

Calloused fingers brush against his cheeks and wipe away tears. Iruka doesn’t remember crying. He looks up, though his eyelids are heavy, and sees Kakashi kneeling before him, reaching out to his face with one hand and thumbing at his neck. Shikaku and Asuma, hesitantly, let go of him.

Finally, he’s able to gasp a breath, crying and laughing at the same time. “Did it work?” he asks.

Kakashi just nods. “It’s beautiful,” he murmurs.

Iruka nods, and then slouches forward as his body gives out. Distantly, he hears the jōnin call out for him, but he falls into Kakashi’s arms and knows no more.

~

The Hatake crest is a blackened burn at the base of his throat. Seal-script casts off in both directions around his neck. The seal-collar will fade within a day or so, but the Hatake brand will remain.

Kakashi takes Iruka home to rest. If Danzō wants to send for Umino Iruka, he’s in for a surprise. Iruka’s part of his clan now, a Hatake by rite, and Danzō will have to stand against the might of Sharingan no Kakashi if he wants to take him.

[uniasus]

Welcome To The Twelfth

Summer of Whump day 11! Another PJO drabble for you, featuring brands.

------

"This seems a bit extreme," Percy said, eyeing the fire in the stone hearth. More specifically, the iron rod sitting in it to heat.

"This is a tradition that harkens back to the days of Rome," Octavian said. He stood with crossed arms, also looking at the fire. "You are part of the Legion. Even after your years of service, you'll still be part of the Legion and may be called to protect New Rome."

"Yeah, I get that," Percy said, still looking nervously at the flame. "But still."

"It's symbolic," Hazel said. As Percy's sponsor, she was there to witness the marking. "You belong to the Legion, from now to death."

"But branding?" Percy whined. "Tattoos are just as permanent."

"That's not the tradition," Octavian said, glaring at Percy.

Percy glared back until the fortuneteller looked away. He didn't actually have to be here, no one but Hazel did, but Percy suspected he came just to see Percy in pain. While they'd meet only hours ago, Percy already hated the dick and the feeling was mutual.  

Percy looked over at Hazel. She stared at the heating brand, rubbing her left forearm. Rubbing her own brand. Like Octavian said, it was tradition. Hazel had been thirteen when she'd gotten her brand, but Percy guessed she hadn't been the youngest to get it.

He wanted to ask if it hurt, but refused to show any weakness in front of Octavian.  

"Ready," the Volcan demigod managing the forge said.  

Taking a deep breath, Percy placed his arm on a small, narrow table. Hazel gently wrapped rope around his arm and the table, immobilizing the limb. The pale flesh of his left forearm looked very white and very delicate. Percy grit his teeth and turned his head.  Hazel, now standing on the other side of him, took his hand. Percy tried not to squeeze too hard.

"Do it," Octavian commanded.  

Percy didn't watch, but he heard the Volcan teen pull out the brand and walk over. He felt the heat of the metal on his skin a split second before the metal touched.  

Instantly, pain shot through Percy's body. He tried to yank his arm away, but Hazel had tied the rope too tight. Instead, he threw his head back, tears leaking through his shut eyes. He probably crushed Hazel’s finger bones, but she gripped back just as strong. The room smelled like burning chicken and Percy's stomach jumped before he forced it down. He would have opened his mouth to scream if not for Octavian's scoff. Instead, Percy bit through his bottom lip. He'd not give the augur the satisfaction of seeing Percy give in.  

He forced his eyes open and turned to look at the blonde demigod, smiling with bloodied teeth. "I've had worse," he said.

Octavian sneered at him. "Welcome to the Twelfth Legion, Perseus Jackson."  

He whirled away, robes swishing, as the brand was removed. Only after did the footsteps fade did Percy curl over his still tied arm, sobbing. Hazel rubbed his back, making soothing noises.  

"I wish they did tattoos too," the Volcan kid said.  

[hale-13]

Hold Fasts

By Hale13

For the Summer of Whump Day 11 - Whipping

“Is that really all you got?” Peter asked, spitting out a mouthful of blood and one of his incisors in the direction of his kidnapper. A few droplets of blood landed on the man’s hands to mix with the blood that was already dripping from his brass knuckles. The tooth clinked across the floor until it landed beside his foot - Peter really hated when his teeth got knocked out but at least this time it was one of the fake ones that had already been replaced and not one of his actual teeth.

Words: 2220, Chapters: 1/1 (Complete), Language: English

Fandoms: spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)

Rating: Teen

Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark

Peter Parker, Tony Stark

TW: Whipping, Torture, Kidnapping, Blood

Read on AO3 or below the line break.

“Is that really all you got?” Peter asked, spitting out a mouthful of blood and one of his incisors in the direction of his kidnapper. A few droplets of blood landed on the man’s hands to mix with the blood that was already dripping from his brass knuckles. The tooth clinked across the floor until it landed beside his foot - Peter really hated when his teeth got knocked out but at least this time it was one of the fake ones that had already been replaced and not one of his actual teeth.

“Bored already?” The man asked in a light voice, punching Peter across the face again and opening up a cut on his cheek from the sheer force of the hit.

“I have a short attention span,” Peter croaked, blowing another globule of blood out of his nose to drip down onto his already ruined shirt. Masked Goon Number One’s mask crinkled in obvious disgust and Peter smiled at him. He could tell by the coppery taste in his mouth that his remaining teeth were covered in blood – surely making for a gruesome image.

Peter, definitely the unluckiest kid in Queens and maybe all of New York, had been snatched literally right off the street on his way to school the day before. Unfortunately for him as well, his kidnappers clearly had a modicum of common sense because they had not only divested him of all of his tech but they had to have disposed of it somewhere on the way to their cliché super secret base (read: abandoned warehouse – so unoriginal). At least that’s what Peter figured since Tony hadn’t burst in within a few hours of him being missing.

Even more unlucky – they had figured out he had enhanced strength and had compensated with heavy duty cuffs that kept him chained against the concrete wall. So far there had been no mention of his arachnid alter-ego so he had to be thankful for small miracles he supposed.

“If you would just answer the question-,” the man started, an edge of frustration to his voice.

“Not gonna happen.” Peter said firmly, his tone filled with steel in juxtaposition to the light smile on his face.

“Stubborn,” the man in front of him muttered before nailing Peter in the stomach. He grunted but didn’t make another sound, he really didn’t want to give them the satisfaction when he had been doing so well at controlling himself. So far their questions had ranged from wanting information on FRIDAY’s systems to the blueprints for the Arc Reactor. Peter had played dumb for a while until they made it clear that they knew about his connection to Tony and them he just started denying them outright. “Why don’t you think on it for a while. We’ll get back to you later.”

“Won’t change my answer,” Peter snarked back as the man left the room, slamming the door in an odd display of irritation and leaving Peter in darkness. Finally alone, Peter let himself dangle from the chains holding him, his shoulders screaming in protest and his back spasming as it took his weight.

“C’mon Tony,” he thought, letting his eyes slip closed. “Where are you?”

——————————————

“My guys tell me you’ve been pretty uncooperative. And after we provided you with such luxurious lodgings – this is top of the line you know,” a new man said, pushing the heavy steel door open hard enough it hit the wall with a bang and startled Peter awake from his light doze.

“Eh they’re pretty average,” Peter said shrugging and trying to keep the sleepy slur out of his voice – he really didn’t need to sound any younger than he probably looked. “Maybe a four out of ten on Yelp. I could be persuaded to bump it up to a five if you’d take these cuffs off though. A six if you offered a decent room service selection.”

“Tempting,” the man told him. “How about a trade? You tell me how to get past Stark’s firewalls and I’ll let you out of the cuffs?”

Peter rolled his eyes. “Come on Marty! How many times do I have to tell you assholes no before it sinks through your thick skulls?”

The man blinks at him in surprise and confusion. “Marty?”

“You look like a Marty,” Peter shrugs. “It’s not like any of you have introduced yourselves. Its pretty poor manners you know.”

“They told me that you were intelligent but you clearly aren’t smart enough to save your own skin,” Marty told him nonchalantly. “Either that or you have no self-preservation instincts.”

“The second one,” Peter agreed with a nod, Mr. Stark had told him the same plenty of times when he was patching him up after patrol.

“Right then. Well we’ll just have to up the ante a little. Get him prepared.” Peter’s eyes narrowed as two of Marty’s henchmen came into the room and wrestled Peter until he faced the wall, arms twisted uncomfortably, and cuffed his ankles to the floor. “Just remember: we can stop at any time, all you need to do is answer the question.” The man turned and left the room, pausing at the door. “Oh and its Nicholas by the way, not Marty.”

“Don’t get your hopes up Nicky!” Peter called after him as he left the room, grunting when he was punched in the stomach.

“God I wish we could gag you,” Henchman One said under his breath as he efficiently slipped his knife into the back of Peter’s shirt and cut it clean down the middle, leaving it hanging open in the back and slipping down his shoulders to pool in the crook of his elbows. Every hair on Peter’s body stood on end as goose bumps rose up on his arms and neck and he let out an involuntary shiver.

“What are you doing?” Peter questioned, renewing his struggles and trying to break the cuffs or pull them out of the wall. Neither man answered him. “Hey shit-stick I’m talking to you!”

“You know? I’m really going to enjoy this,” he heard one of the men mutter before there was the sound of something cutting through the air and then his back lit up in a sharp sting. Peter gasped in a breath as his lungs seized. “Well that shut you up.”

“What the fuck are you doing?” Peter croaked as his back lit up on fire again and his knees went weak.

“I’m sure you can figure it out you little brat,” Henchman One said, just barely popping into Peter’s peripheral vision as the whip cut across his back again. “Scream if you want to answer the question and make it stop.”

Peter grit his teeth and tried to hold in the scream that wanted to tear out of his throat when his back was hit the fifth time. By the seventh he could feel blood start to pool at the waistband of his jeans. He nearly bit through his lip on strike number twelve and he lost count after that – he’s unsure when he finally gave in and started to scream.

———————————————

“Come on Pete, focus up buddy,” a warm voice said just on the edge of Peter’s consciousness. “This isn’t a good look kiddo.”

Fingers tapped on his face incessantly and Peter groaned, allowing his head to loll back on his neck in the opposite direction to get away. “G’away,” he mumbled out, unable to speak louder than a whisper without his throat throbbing in agony.

“No can do Bambino,” the voice said, hands running through his hair and maneuvering him to be more upright, his chest leaning against something warm and solid. “But if you open your eyes for me I’d be willing to negotiate getting you out of here. What do you say?”

Peter huffed out a breath of exertion and slit his eyes open. Everything was a little blurry but he could clearly make out the comforting blue glow of the Arc Reactor from where the Iron Man suit stood sentry behind Tony Stark. The man was leaning Peter’s chest against one of his shoulders to keep him upright and was staring down at him with a pinched expression.

“Hey Mr. Stark,” Peter said, letting his eyes slip closed again and leaning more fully into his mentor’s side. “Fancy meeting you here.”

“I’d ask if you frequented dumps like this but I’m honestly afraid of the answer,” Tony told him lightly, trying to joke but falling flat. “Think you can stand buddy? I can’t really carry you and I figured you might protest the gurney.”

Peter let out a huff and let his head drop to rest in the crook of his mentor’s neck. “I can walk.”

“Try to lean as much weight as possible on me okay?” Tony told him before beginning the complicated maneuver that they had both nearly perfected so that Tony could get his hands under Peter’s armpits and lift him to his feet. Once standing, Peter’s vision pulsed and went grey around the edges and he fell forward to rest against Tony’s chest as the room spun around him. “Whoa there Pete! You’re alright, just take a few deep breaths okay?”

“Dizzy,” Peter breathed, his vision still fading in and out. “Need to sit…”

“Need to…?” Was all Tony was able to get out before Peter’s vision failed completely and he started sliding back down toward the floor. “Oh shit! Can I get some help in here?! Pete? Peter! Stay with me!”

But Peter didn’t. The darkness was a lot more comfortable than being awake and he was pretty sure Tony would forgive him if he took a little nap. There was a lot of confusion and shouting around him and he was just so tired. With that thought swirling through his head, Peter let himself pass out.

————————————————

Even without opening his eyes, Peter could recognize the plush feeling of the MedBay bed and the sharp smell of betadine and chlorhexidine and industrial cleaner in the air. It tickled his nose and made him want to sneeze but he manfully held it in, burying his face a little more firmly into the plump pillow. He was resting on his front instead of his back like normal and he could tell by the slowness of his thoughts and the heaviness of his muscles that he was on his super strength painkillers and probably some sort of sedation as well.

His thoughts were murky and hard to get through with the pain relief on board so he didn’t try to think too hard for now and, instead, blinked his eyes open slowly. The room was dim like it was late in the evening even though warm light filtered in through the barely cracked blinds. There were two chairs beside his bed – the closest one held May’s purse and scrub jacket and the second had his mentor.

Tony was leaned over his tablet, one elbow propped on the arm of the chair and eyes half lidded as he read through something on the screen. He looked tired but, Peter supposed, he always looked that way when Peter ended up in the MedBay. “Mr. Stark,” he muttered out, blinking his eyes and barely managing to get them back open through his exhaustion.

Tony jumped and launched his tablet to the floor but was quick to recover and stand up so he could lean over Peter and run a cautious hand through his hair. “Hey Bambino,” he said softly. “How are you feeling?”

“Tired,” Peter answered, letting his eyes close again. “High.”

“Yeah I’ll bet,” Tony agreed with him, a touch of amusement in his voice. “You should go back to sleep, you’ve got a lot of healing to do. You want anything before your nap?”

“What happened?” Peter asked, slitting his eyes open to look up at Tony’s worried face.

“When I asked if you wanted something I was thinking water or ice chips,” Tony told him pointedly but Peter didn’t let up on his relentless, woozy eye contact until Tony sighed and settled into May’s chair so he could hold Peter’s hand and continue to massage through his hair with the other. “You were kidnapped for information on me.”

“I didn’t give up anything right?” Peter asked, worried. He could vaguely remember some hazy memories but nothing was really clear through his tiredness and the drugs coursing through his system.

“Not one bit,” Tony confirmed, pride and concern warring on his face. “We’ll have a much more in depth discussion about that later and how you should always save your own skin over a couple passwords,” he promised, “but, for now, all you need to know is they messed up your back pretty good. Cho and Bruce estimate a full recovery with no scaring but you’ll be out for a bit while you recover.”

Peter searched his grey-tinged and sluggish memories before letting out a little hum of understanding. “They whipped me.”

“Yeah kiddo,” Tony confirmed. “They did. But you’re going to be just fine. I’ve got you.”

“You’ve got me,” Peter agreed, letting his eyes slip shut again. “Gonna nap now,” he said groggily, “night.”

“Night buddy,” Tony whispered and Peter fell asleep to the feeling of warm fingers carding through his hair and a calloused hand holding his.

[morgana-greenleaf]

Summer of Whump Day 11: Whipping/branding

@summer-of-whump

Read on AO3 | Masterlist

They’re lending him out again. They haven’t told him, but he knows because they’re going to brand him again.

He knows this because he’s strapped in a chair in a dark room, sweat dripping down his body from the heat radiating from the massive fire in the corner. There’s a metal pole sticking out.

They don’t talk to him. They just pulled off his vest and shirt, and shoved him down. Now they wait for the brand to heat up. One of the guards is drumming his fingers against the wall.

He’s just beginning to get bored in spite of the queasy feeling in his stomach when they decide the brand is hot enough. Th technician pulls it from the fire, inspects it, and then places the weird octopus thing that serves as the HYDRA symbol shaped brand on his chest.

He screams, tears springing from his eyes, as the technician holds it there, his chest burning, pus oozing from the burn. Finally, they decide the mark’s deep enough, because the technician pulls the brand away, leaving a patch of bright red destroyed skin behind.

The technician steps away, discarding the brand. The guards unstrap him, hauling him to his feet, dragging him out, to get prepped.

He still doesn’t know if the reminder of who he belongs to his for him, or for whatever organisation he’s being loaned out to.

[fletcherwilbury]

Summer of Whump Day 11: Whipping

Warning: This story contains emotional abuse, verbal abuse, implications of physical abuse, and mentions of vomiting and injuries

[grizzlie70]

Isaac vs the Master’s-SOW

this is a collab with @sapphirechao for @summer-of-whump

tw:whipping, blood, restrains, lab whump, 

Two seekers drag Isaac down the dark halls of the facility, laughing and taunting him the entire way down. Isaac, naturally, kicked and squirmed and screamed to the Gods that never answered him. His feet scramble to scrape some form of purchase so he can walk, but each and every time his captors kick his legs out from under him. “LET ME GO!”, he screamed, thrashing wildly in their arms, “Where are you taking me?!”

“Hah, somewhere you’ll enjoy~”, one of them said with a laugh. “Yeah, I’d save my energy if I were you”, the other taunted.

Isaac retorted by spitting at one of the speakers, earning him a harsh slap to the face. He cried out, stunned, when the Seeker grabbed a fistful of the saint’s hair and slammed his face into the wall.

“Dumb bastard, you never learn do you?” “Hey, save it for one of the Masters, will ya? We’re here.”

Isaac was limply dragged into the room, his vision swimming and seeing stars. The dimly lit room left little to the imagination. It was all things Isaac had seen before, one way or another. A metal table set in the center with a single light hanging above. Chains with hooks dangled from the ceiling where a small window can be seen- likely for people to look down and enjoy the show. Isaac scoffed quietly, not putting up much fight as he was dragged over towards the table.

“Should we make him as uncomfortable as possible?” he laughs as they slam 103 on the edge of the table, securing his wrist tightly to the table with metal cuffs.  “Duh, what do you think he’s in? A hotel?” he gives 103 a heavy pat on his head. “I mean, he probably wishes he were but I guess it's what he deserves.”

"GET YOUR VILE HANDS OFF ME!" Isaac snarled, twisting his head away from the seeker. Panic squeezed his heart with an icy grip that made his blood as cold as the metal table pressed against his chest. He couldn't fight back the frightened whine that rumbled in his throat. Try as he might, he didn’t see a way out of this predicament and dreaded what was in store for him.

“Alrighty then, let’s get this shirt off you, buddy.” The male seeker pulled out a pair of scissors from his pockets, bringing them close to Isaac’s face, leaning close to his ears. “I hope The Masters will be kind enough to let me have some alone time with you.”

"Nuh-NO!!" Isaac shrieked, visibly pale. He writhed and pulled hard against his restraints, trying to kick at the man behind him "Wha-- what the h-hell do you plan on doing!?!"

He ignored his question, snipping the scissors down his shirt, enjoying the sound of Isaac’s panic. “No sense in spoiling the surprise.” He shoves the scissors back into his pocket, there is a knock on the door, the two seekers answer the door and a couple of other seekers come in, one of them holding a whip. “Good! Did you brought the best one too!”

“-And we got the money too.” A female seeker took out a thick stack of money. One of the seekers gets close to Isaac, brushing his fingers through Isaac’s hair before walking away. “Why that one?”

“Cause the Master’s hate him the most and his screams are oh, so beautiful.” The first seeker, the one with the scissors, grabs the whip, standing behind isaac. “Alright place your bets! Let's see how long it’ll take before this subject passes out!” Multiple voices talk at once, each one trying to go up higher for how long Isaac can last, hearing their cheers make his stomach turn in fear. Before he could say anything, the first strike hit him down the middle and he let out a scream, the seekers count, laughing as another strike hit the same spot again and again. Isaac screams are drowned out by the laughter of the seekers, each of them cheering as the strikes rain down on his back with no mercy, sobbing at the stinging sensation coming from his back.

[equestrianwritingsstuff]

Summer of Whump #11: Whipping

Villain cracked the whip against Hero's back as their victim hissed in pain.

Villain gave a smooth chuckle as they cupped their ever so gentle hand around Hero's cheeks.

"Darlin', have enough?" They asked in a sweet tone.

"Never," Hero spat. Villai grinned, ear to ear.

"Happy to oblige."

Villain did not see Hero's face contort with the anticipation of pain.

Villain whipped until no skin could be shown. They tosses the whip aside, their arm tired, but they could keep going. Oh, they could keep going forever.

Villain knelt by the heaving hero's side.

"Now, my dear, heal," Villain ordered. "I wanna see this in action."

Hero groaned and tensed, trying to summon their powers, but their body went lax. They had no energy left in their aching muscles.

"It saw heal my dear," Villain clenched their teeth. "It is not too hard."

"Yeah it is," Hero gasped and tried to pull away from Villain's presence.

"Oh," Villain face fell and for a moment they actually cared for Hero until their inner urges forced them to dig their overly long nails into one of many of Hero's wounds.

"I said heal, or will you like another round?" Villain asked.

"Let's go with another round shall we?" Hero replied sarcastically as they mustered the energy to seal the wounds back together. "Whip me."

[sideblogformindtrash]

SUMMER OF WHUMP - DAY 11 - BRANDING

Whumpee Orfeu my beloved

CW: minor whump; branding iron, ropes, religious themes, religious abuse, institutional abuse, gaslight, mentioned mouth Whump and whipping.

The rope dug at his skin, making burns, as he twisted and squirmed, trying to pull his arms away from the pillars that held them. 

The gloomy light on the cave-like walls made him feel dizzy. Everything was cast into these otherworldly shadows, that in any other situation, would lead him into sleep. 

Tonight, the panic was stronger. The lights from the fire were warm and red, as was the iron being heated on those flames. The room felt hot and stalem. An agonizing cry escaped his throat, as his sweat already dripped down his face. 

...This caught Father Benedict's attention, as he limped into his direction, his robes floating around him. He touched his face, pulling away the sweat drenched hair.

“No, no, please, Father, I can’t do this, I can’t. I don’t want to do this anymore” 

"Be strong, child. Be strong in your faith" and he made the sign of the cross on his forehead "If you really can't, we must stop, but you must not let the devil win! Have faith!"

"I'm… I'm scared" he cried, the other priests waiting in silence.

"It's normal to be fearful, child. But remember God is by your side even on the darkest of times" he shuddered under Father's touch, as he traced his cheekbones "You have come so far already. He is with you. Don't turn your back on him now"

“I… I could do the whip again. Or my teeth. They are growing back, they, they are-”

"A brave offering. But you must remember fire is one of god's most important tools. You have atoned by whip and blood before, but never by fire" Father held his shoulder, giving it a light squeeze "...God manifests by fire, as do his Angels. He is himself an all consuming fire"

He pointed at the fireplace, the iron was taken from it.

"What do you say, child? Are you with god?" 

"...Yes…"

He wasn't. He wasn't ready at all. He wanted out, he was terrified. But… he was a monster. He was a demon. A creature from hell, hellfire. He didn't want to live like that anymore he just… just wanted God to accept him.

He closed his eyes and delved into prayer. Please, please, please help me. Give me strength. Give me light and guidance.

...A tear ran down his face, mixed with sweat. He… He wanted God to love him. He wanted to atone and be worthy.

He couldn't bear to see the red iron approaching, the cross-shaped mark being pressed onto his arm.

...He screamed. It hurt more than the whip, more than the teeth. The smell was sickening, and the hissing noise hurt in his ears. When it was pulled away, he felt cold. 

The priests reunited around him, starting to pray loudly. He joined them, despite the shakiness on his voice, and heavy tears. He would chant away his sins.

---

He sat on the chair, waiting while she finished the drawing. 

"So, what do you think?" 

"Very cool"

...The roses looked pretty. He knew it was quite a cliche, but he didn't care. He wanted them, they looked fine. 

“And where is it going to be?” The woman asked, smiling at the drawing.

“Right here, over this scar” He pointed at his arm.

“Ready?"

He nodded, taking one last look at the pretty roses, sitting happily as she worked over it, hiding that fucking scar under something that was more… him. 

tagging:  @summer-of-whump @cupcakes-and-pain , @whumpzone , @twistedcaretaker , @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight , @lightdrinker , @pinkraindropsfell, @oofthatsgottahurt​ @whump-me-all-night-long @tears-and-lilies

[willowworkswithwords]

Summer of Whump 2021

Chapter 11, prompt 11: whipping. Part two from chapter 10. Echo steps into his ori’vod shoes and takes care of Hunter and the batch.

AO3

Please let me know what you think of it! Thank you for reading!

Also, requests from this post are still open! Also feel free to go off the list and just go hog wild, if you please ☺️

[willowworkswithwords]

Summer of whump 2021

Chapter 10, prompt 11- whipping. Hunter. Part one of two. Angsty, part two will have the comfort

AO3

I’d love to know what you think of it! Part two will be tomorrow.