#bruised ribs
When the caretaker notices that the whumpee looks a little pale, but they don’t think anything of it until the whumpee collapses in the middle of a conversation. Them diving to catch the whumpee, and trying to figure out what happened, and why they passed out. The caretaker not being able to figure it out before the whumpee starts to wake up, and the caretaker gently questioning them, asking if they have any idea why they passed out. The whumpee admitting that they got hit pretty hard in the torso with something earlier that day, and the caretaker pulling up their shirt to check, only to find colorful bruising covering their side. The caretaker immediately hurrying the whumpee to the hospital, and the doctors telling them that the whumpee was bleeding internally, and would have died if they had waited much longer to get help.
When the whumpee just finished a fight, and they think they’re fine, but then one of their teammates hugs them, and pain explodes from their ribs. The whumpee making a pained noise, but being too exhausted to try to pull away, and slumping in their teammates arms. Their teammate being so startled that they almost dropping them, but managing to gently lower them to the ground as they ask the whumpee what’s wrong. The whumpee gasping out something about their ribs, and their teammate lifting the whumpee’s shirt to find the start of what will become some dramatic bruises. The teammate being so worried that they immediately scoop the whumpee up as gently as possible, and carry them off to find a medic to help them.
CW: References to violent noncon, internal injuries, dehumanization, pet whump, abduction and hostage-taking, Nanda is a possessive creep, guns, intimate whumpers, sadistic whumpers
Kidnapping|Snitches and Stitches | Vendetta
@amonthofwhump’s Mafia Madness Day 3
-
The mattress smells.
It also has the distinction of being the only place the pet can remember ever sleeping that is evenlesscomfortable than the WRU facility room floors.
Still blindfolded, all he has is smell, taste, sound, and touch. The lumpy mattress is scratchy, stiff with stains he can’t see and refuses to think too much about, some of which must be his own dried blood. His heels hang off the edge, where the concrete floor is, his fingers tingle with near-numbness.
All he can smell is concrete, blood, some faint sick-sweet smell of old decay, and the remnants of cigarette smoke and french fries. The taste of the cheap cheeseburger they fed him lingers on his tongue, as does the bitter and salt of what they fed him after that, laughing and gripping him by his newly-cleaned damp hair until his scalp ached and his jaw burned from how they forced it open.
He shifts, slowly sliding himself up on the mattress until his feet are on it again and off the floor. The motion flares sharp pain deep inside of him, and he whimpers, biting down hard on his lower lip to keep the sound to a whisper.
It has never hurt this badly, afterward. Not even when there were multiple handlers.No, they took their time and took care, knowing he was going to a buyer who wouldn’t stand for pre-existing damage. These men… They’ve torn something, reallytorn it. This is all he’s even good for, and if he’s too broken for it…
The pet tries to push down the panic, to ignore what the pain is trying to tell him.
Even if he comes for you, you won’t live long if he can’t have you. If you can’t do what he wants. After that, it’s back to WRU, you’ll be refurbished. No one will want you, they’ll wipe you and start clean with someone new, with-
He has to stop thinking like this. The panic is cycling, and his chest has gone tight and sharp with every gasping, shallow breath. He can’t be afraid of that, not yet. He has to deal with the rest of the things he’s afraid of first.
