Fantasy bodypainting whump where whatever Whumper paints or tattoos on Whumpee's body comes to life.
Would be a shame if Whumpee had texture aversions or insect phobias.
Would be a double shame if Whumper had several Whumpees to use as living canvasses.
TW noncon touch, kidnapping, female whumpee, insect phobia implied future noncon, former living weapon, former dehumanization
Six Months Free Masterlist
Previous, Next
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Her eyes were dry and heavy when, bit by bit, Diana came to. Every limb ached as she recalled the brutal fight against Hive and the swarm of wasps that descended upon her like vultures until she passed out. While her heart instinctually raced, even now, Diana remembered the training drilled into her by the academy. The sub-class of the Regulation of Enhanced Individuals Association that genetically manufactured fucking superpowers and trained them to be heroes. They had trained Siren to deal with a situation just like this. If you are ever captured, do not allow your body to react. Stop. Assess the situation. Are you injured? Bound?
She wasn’t gagged, but Diana resisted the urge to scream. She didn’t want to alert Hive that she was awake. Besides, wherever he had taken her would be secluded. No one could hear her here.
The surface beneath her was cold and hard, like a metal folding chair. A hood was over Diana’s head. When she attempted to lift her arms, they were stuck. Same with her feet. Perhaps there would have been hope of wiggling free—when she shifted her weight, the chair moved, so she knew it wasn’t bolted down—but venom was still in her system. Diana could feel it in the grogginess of her head, the heavy weight of her limbs. It was a challenge to even hold her head up.
Squeezing her eyes shut, Diana tried to focus on the ever-present tingling in the base of her stomach. That was where her most offensive power lay: the ability to summon and manipulate water had saved her life more than once. But before she even twitched her fingers, Diana knew it wouldn’t work. The suspicions were proven right when the powers didn’t come. Whatever had been in those wasps not only knocked her out, but they also temporarily blocked her enhancements. Her jaw set in a tight line.
Hive was known for his use of insects, many of which were either previously unknown or genetically engineered. He was a pain in the ass to capture initially because he was simply so hard to beat. Any time Siren would manage to land a strike, he’d unleash a new swarm on her. While she was distracted, he’d self-regenerate. To this day, Diana didn’t know the specifics of how his powers worked; only that there were seemingly endless facets to them. She was just as clueless about Hive as an individual. Rumors had it he used to be under the REIA’s custody, but that wasn’t confirmed. The only thing Diana knew for certain?
He had been absolutely obsessed with Siren. She’d assumed that when she escaped to become Diana, and ‘Siren’ consequently disappeared from the media, his fixation with her would eventually fade. Instead, it only seemed to feed the addiction. Hive attacked the city more and more, burned her name into the side of buildings, and demanded that Siren turn herself in. But she… Couldn’t. Diana hadn’t been able to make herself go back to that life, return to being a thing rather than a person. She moved out of New York entirely, took on a new life, cut herself off from the news for a while so Brandon and the REIA wouldn’t be able to find her. It should have been enough, why wasn’t it enough?
Now she was dragged back. Somehow, someway, Hive had found her. Despite the training that had been beaten into her veins, panic constricted her chest. What did he want with her? How did he know who she was?
She heard his footsteps before she felt it: a crawling sensation up her legs. Dozens, hundreds of creatures that skittered across the floor and crept over her skin. They slid under her jeans, prodding at the swollen welts from the stings she’d obtained in Hive’s attack. The racing of her heart increased its pace. What were they? Ants? Roaches?
Don’t scream. Don’t scream, don’t scream, don’t…. She didn’t flinch until they climbed higher, reaching her thighs. Some of them crawled beneath her underwear, and she could feel them exploring her genitalia. That was when she whimpered, shifting uncomfortably.
Some skirted over her abdomen. Chest. Breasts. It was only when they climbed over her throat and slid under the hood, tangling in her hair and nearing her mouth, that Diana screamed. She strained to get away, to access her hydrokinesis and wash the creatures off of her, but the power failed her. The creatures were just beginning to crawl between her lips when Hive’s deep laugh echoed through the chilly space.
“Ease off, pets,” he crooned. The insects backed off, and Diana sagged forward in her chair, trembling as the bugs skittered back off her body. Her ears were ringing. Despite the darkness beneath her hood, Diana found her eyes darting around, searching for Hive’s face. But he didn’t remove the hood. A heavy hand settled on the back of her neck, where his thumb traced gentle circles. Her skin crawled at the sensation. No one had touched her like that.
Goosebumps raced down her spine before instinct kicked in again. Diana threw her head back in an attempt to throw him off, but his hand slid down to grab a fistful of her tangled auburn hair. “That’s not very nice, now is it?”
She said nothing. In her time fighting with Hive, she’d learned that the most effective way to get under his skin was to react as little as possible. More than anything else, it enraged him not to have a verbal response. This suited her just fine. Diana didn’t much like to talk. That tended to happen to a person after years of being shocked whenever they spoke out of turn.
But he didn’t lash out as she expected. Instead, a low, soft laugh filled the space as Hive tore off the sack over her head. Light scalded her eyes as she recoiled, blinking rapidly to clear her vision. They were in what appeared to be an abandoned subway station. A rust-covered metal ceiling formed a dome above her. The lighting was dim. There were tracks to her left. An entrance to her right, with turnstiles forever frozen in place.
And there were bugs. Now that Diana could see them, she could hear them. An incessant humming sound from the thousands of creatures. They covered the walls, buzzed around the filthy swinging lights, and surrounded the ground around her to leave only a small circle clear for her chair. At least a dozen rested on the giant man before her as well. A large spider, roughly the size of Diana’s hand, was on his cheek. Another crawled up the side of his head. What Diana thought was a Hercules beetle lounged on his bulging biceps, and many others she didn’t care to look at or name. He created an imposing figure. Broad shoulders, over six feet, master of the skittering creatures in this damp, cursed space.
Hive looked at her. She looked at him. For the first time, they were face-to-face. No masks. No costumes. Stubble of a beard grew across his jaw and cheeks. His skin was tanned, hair such a dark brown that it was nearly black. Same with his eyes. They might as well be empty pits. When he smiled, he showed frustratingly perfect, straight white teeth.
He was her opposite in every way. Despite being bred and raised in a lab to become some sort of heroic weapon of destruction, Diana had always been strictly average height. Though she’d been out of the lab for years now, she was still too pale. As ‘Siren,’ her handler tried to keep her inside as much as possible to limit the chance of people identifying her. Now, Diana had tried to keep hidden for the same reason. She knew the REIA was still hunting her. Fiery red curls cascaded down her back, contrasting with Hive’s dark, short-cropped hair, and her eyes were a light blue. Nothing like the black holes on his face.
It took every ounce of strength not to squirm under his gaze. An eternity passed before Hive chuckled again, reaching out to lightly poke one of the welts on her shoulder. When she looked down, Diana saw perhaps a dozen welts where she’d been stung, the stinger protruding from the festering spots. When Diana didn’t flinch at Hive’s touch, his lips merely twitched. “Oh, Diana…. That’s what you call yourself now, isn’t it?”
Diana. She’d been so proud of choosing that name. It was her first act of independence. But hearing it from his lips made her flinch. Swallowing once, she forced herself to speak. “What do you want, Hive?”
“You shouldn’t call me that anymore.” He released the sting on her shoulder and instead began to trail his hand down her chest. Diana’s breathing increased to pants as she squirmed, shrinking back as much as her binds allowed her to, but she didn’t scream. Didn’t yell. Just the thought of protesting made a lump lodge in her throat as she remembered the painful shocks, but she didn’t want him to touch her, stop touching her, stop….
His hand roamed over every inch of her chest and stomach, finally halting at her lower abdomen, right over the hem of her jeans. A finger delicately traced the smooth skin. “Damien was the name I chose for myself,” he murmured, almost conversationally. “When I escaped.”
Her eyes must have widened, because he nodded, a smirk quirking his brow. He had her attention. The last thing Diana wanted was to give him a win, but his comment had caught her off guard. Hive—Damien—pulled his hand away and rolled up the sleeve of his right arm. Printed in black ink was the distinctive mark: EI359. Diana’s breath caught in her throat. Enhanced Individual three hundred and fifty-nine. At some point, Hive had been at the academy. A similar tattoo was inked onto her arm: EI427.
“You see?” Damien murmured, running his hand down her left arm. It tenderly stroked over the tattoo. When Diana started to whimper, recoiling, he smiled. He slowly moved forward until his legs straddled her hips, and he was perched on her lap.
Immediately, she began to squirm, bucking away from him. “St-sto….” The protest was caught in her throat, tears pricking her eyes. She couldn’t scream. Couldn’t…. The sound couldn’t escape. But Diana tried to headbutt him, writhing in her seat as she tried to get him off of her.
Damien laughed softly. His weight kept the chair rooted in place, despite it not being bolted down. Her eyes were wide and panicked. Heart racing. Get off, she wanted to scream. Get off, get off, get…. But it couldn’t leave. “If you want to be stubborn, that’s quite alright,” he soothed, hand caressing her hair. When she tried to headbutt again, his hand fisted tightly in the strands and forced her head back. “I understand, Diana, I do. I’ve been through this…. And I’m going to help you. You’ll see, I promise.”
She shook her head, tears swimming in her eyes as her muscles went taut, trying to escape. A condescending tsk spilled from his lips as he shifted on her lap. “I wish you hadn’t fought me so hard last night…. It would have made today much easier. This next part is going to hurt just a bit.”
The hand that had been caressing her forearm found one of the stings on her shoulder. Before she could brace herself, he squeezed until it burst. A yellowish pus mixed with blood gushed free. Despite herself, Diana hissed through her teeth at the sharp pain. “There, there….” Damien cooed, not releasing the wound until every last drop had been extracted. “Breathe, it’s alright….” His hand, covered in pus, patted her cheek. She couldn’t resist a small flinch. “You’ll see eventually. Don’t worry, I’ve waited a long time for you. I can be patient.”
When she didn’t answer, he tsked again and moved onto the next stinger-filled welt. By the seventh sting, Diana couldn’t hold back her screams.
people who torment bugs are the weakest link and I'm not joking
"oughh I have a phobia" ok? I have a phobia of dogs, I hate them and I'm terrified to even be around them. if one barks at me I cry. and yet you don't see me going out of my way to torture and kill them, do you?
i just had a dream (nightmare?) of a giant black centipede following me immortal snail-style, except instead of killing you when it reaches you, it literally just crawls on you, and now i'm terrified
