#whump snippet

[withdrawingramen]

i think shame & its manifestations in whump is not talked about enough. like i love when whumpee is physically unable to tell caretaker about all they went through, not only because it is insanely distressing to relive but also because it's humiliating. 'how can someone be so cruel?' is another question, but we're also talking 'how did i let that happen to myself?' from whumpee's perspective. often times post something traumatizing whumpees develop this deep-seated feeling of hopelessness & helplessness & misguided anger which is just in sweet words not cool

because think about it, the whumpee could not stop anything from happening to them. there's always this notion of having to stand up for yourself, but whumpee didn't even get the chance to. who should you be angry at? whumper? the system? yourself?

the fact that it happened is so terribly real and if paired with the conditioning of whumper & possible victim blaming, the shame eventually turns into this twisted form of denial, where whumpee is unable to confront the fact that they were hurt so bad and it just turns into oh my god i hate that it happened to me. i want to erase that it all happened. i wish i could live just one day forgetting it all and wake up thinking what was i so stressed about? i wish i could walk past whumper and think 'who were they again'? nobody should know about this because i cant deal with it myself and i don't know what i'll do if it all goes out

yk what im talking abt?

[cpt-winters]

Sudden Collapse *Team Leader Edition*

Come on, pull yourself together.

Leader leaned his hands on the table, squinting at the map sprawled across it and blinked a few times as it blurred in and out of focus.

"Leader? You were saying..?" Teammate Two prompted.

"Right," he started again, ignoring how the room span as he lifted his hands from the table. "So if we plant charges on...on the..." his voice trailed off, his thoughts slipping through his mind like sand. He dug his nails into his palms, willing himself to concentrate.

"You alright, boss?" Teammate One asked, their brow creased as they stepped closer.

"Fine," he dismissed as the team exchanged confused and concerned glances.

Just wanting to get through the briefing, Leader took a slow, deliberate breath before continuing. "If we plant charges on the w...west generator, that should... should buy us- enough t-time to... to..." Leader stumbled through his words, his sluggish mind unable to navigate the fragmented thoughts as another wave of nausea rolled over him.

He vaguely registered a muffled shout from Medic.

"'m fine," he slurred, reaching out for something to stabilize himself as his body swayed dangerously. He hadn't even realized he was falling until his head slammed against the floor.

"-oss? Boss!"

[inevitable-pretty-words]

Content – intimate whumper, hero x villain, villain with magical powers, fantasy whump, psychological whump, memory alteration, forced submission, dub-con kissing

"I'll probably have to erase your memories. Just as a precaution" Villain's calm voice rang out in the small room as he paced back and forth, not even looking at Hero.

"You're joking right?!"

Hero didn't want his voice to sound so hysterical. He also didn't want to endure Villain's serious look any longer, which only made him more aware of what a terrible situation he was in.

His eyes lingered on random objects, desperately searching for a way out. But he didn't find it. The Villain was blocking his path to the door and Hero realized painfully that there was no chance of getting past him and escaping through the narrow corridor. Not when he's like this. Not now. The only exit was the window he was standing next to. His heart skipped a beat as he thought about what this meant for him, but still, against all reason, his hand slowly moved towards the window handle.

"I don't advise it. You'll break your legs. And then I will come down to you and erase your memories anyway. You will only suffer unnecessarily" Villain said in an almost completely indifferent tone of voice, but there was a hint of concern in it.

Hero snorted, even though he knew Villain was right. And he hated him for it. He also hated the concern in his voice. As if he ever cared about his life and happiness.

"So I should just let you do it, right? Do you realize how ridiculous you sound?!" Hero didn't want to scream, not again. But he couldn't help but be overcomed with emotions.

Villain stopped and looked at him for the first time since the incident.

"Yes. That will be better. For you. For me. I don't want to fight."

Villain continued to maintain his mask of indifference, and Hero hated the fact that he couldn't read his true emotions. He would have preferred anger because it was predictable, but now he had no idea what to expect.

"There must be another way. Anything else. I can stay silent and pretend I didn't see anything, I can..."

Villain interrupted him with a joyless laugh.

"We both know it won't work. You'll open your dirty mouth and blurt everything out at the end. Or worse, you'll try to help me. I won't let you do this." With each word, Villain got closer to Hero, who could no longer move back, pressed against the wall. He glanced out the window again, but quickly shook his head. The consequences would be too great.

So he risked looking into Villain's eyes and saw no uncertainty in them. He swallowed.

"I could at least try..." his voice was quieter this time, more shaky due to Villain's proximity. Great.

"Would you like to continue pretending to be a hero? It didn't work out last time."

Hero grimaced at the reference to recent events, but did not comment on his words, refusing to be provoked.

There was a sudden tension in the air, full of heavy memories that each of them preferred to keep silent for now.

“So you can see that I have no other choice, my dear,” Villain said after a long moment, breaking the silence.

Something about the way he said that endearment made Hero's heart skip a beat, but he quickly came to his senses, remembering his threat.

"You're an escapist, you know? You would do anything to avoid the consequences, to start over..."

Instead of the expected anger, Hero saw only calmness in Villain, with a hint of amusement at his feeble attempts to distract him to escape.

"What's wrong with escapism, hmm?" he replied, tucking a strand of hair behind Hero's ear.

Hero shuddered, his thoughts made no sense, and for a moment he focused only on the touch on his cheek, on the warmth of Villain's hand, on the knowledge that if only the situation was different, he could kiss him here and now.

"Don't try to avoid it," Villain whispered tenderly into his ear, aware of the effect it was having on him. "Just give up. Submit. It'll hurt you less than if I had to force you to do it."

But I don't want to have my memories deleted, Hero wanted to say, but the prepared words disappeared from his head as soon as Villain ran his hand through his hair. Hero sighed.

Villain suddenly pulled away to look into his eyes. Hero closed it in a sudden panic.

"What exactly do you want to delete? How many days?" he managed to say in a trembling voice.

"Just today," Villain assured him, smiling. "Removing more memories would affect you too much. And we don't want that, right?"

Hero just nodded, not noticing the strange gleam in Villain's eyes.

"And if you're going to forget anyway..." Villain approached him again and kissed him gently on the lips.

Hero had no idea what had just happened. His heart was racing and he felt that his cheeks were completely red. He kept repeating the question in his mind: why, why, why, why, why? But he received no answer.

Villain placed his hand on his blushed cheek again and stared into his eyes as if he wanted to remember the sight. And then he kissed him again, this time on the forehead.

"Sorry." Hero heard a quiet whisper and didn't know how to react. And if any of his reactions would have changed Villain's mind at all. Probably not.

That's why when Villain looked at him again, Hero didn't close his eyes.

A sharp, stabbing pain immediately shot through his head, and Hero couldn't help but hiss and crouch down as if it would protect him.

But Villain then moved his hand to his chin and forced him to straighten up and look him in the eye.

"You're unconsciously resisting, that's why it hurts. Stop it, Hero. Give up, enough of this fighting. It will be better for you this way" his sweet, calm voice made Hero start to calm down involuntarily. The feeling that he was going to cry disappeared. The pain subsided.

And then, as soon as he felt someone infiltrating his mind, searching through his memories, Hero submitted and everything went dark.

[cryptidwritings]

"Aren't you tired?"

Caretaker looked up from their book, smiling. It was a habit. Whumpee wasn't even looking at them this time.

"No. I'm okay."

It was a lie. Every time Caretaker closed their eyes, they heard the sound of shattered glass and Whumpee's pained and panicked screams rolling underneath the barricaded door before disappearing into the night.

They weren't going to let that happen ever again.

[oddsconvert]

TW: pet whump, captivity, intimate whumper, non/dubcon touching, dehumanisation

The pets head lolls back against it's owners chest, it's heart beating ten to the dozen, almost bursting through their ribcage. Whumper lets out a low hum, nuzzling the tip of their nose into the dip of the pets collarbone, arms hooked tight around it's belly.

"You're the best drunk purchase I've ever made."

[avvail-whumps]

ok so i just saw the prompt that you reblogged on your other account and.. i was wondering if you ever had the time would you write something about a hypnotized whumpee?

content warnings: intimate whumper, hypnosis, conditioned whumpee, non-con touching (not explicit), mentioned non-con (not explicit)

“Aren’t they just so pretty?”

The caretaker says nothings. It’s obvious by the grim expression on their face that they don’t particularly want to encourage the whumper’s behaviour.

The last time they had seen the whumpee, they had been kicking and screaming. Putting up a fuss any chance they got, making life as difficult as they could for their captor. They had this fire in their eyes that didn’t seem to be dying out any time soon.

But now?

They’d almost been surprised by the quietness of the house. The whumper would usually have them restrained in some way, and they’d be writhing and kicking up a fuss, making lots of angry noises.

Instead, they observed their quiet, stiff form on the sofa. There was something eerie about their eyes; blank, unfocused, hardly even blinking. Even when the whumper carded a hand through their head, there wasn’t even a flicker of emotion on their face.

The caretaker was in awe at how complacent they were being.

“What did you do?” They find themselves asking absentmindedly, unable to tear their eyes away. Because they are genuinely shocked.

The whumper hums softly under their breath, scraping the hair away from the whumpee’s forehead. They’re devoid of usual cuts and bruises - the caretaker wonders how long they’ve been like this.

“I tried a new method,” the whumper answers vaguely, steely eyes staring into theirs. “This way, I can’t get bored.”

The caretaker doesn’t realise their confusion flickers in their expression, but the whumper notices it, as observant as they are. They gently run a finger under the whumpee’s chin, who still has that blank, half lidded gaze. Like a China doll.

“If I want them to be an eager little thing that serves to please me, then I can make it happen with just one word,” they hum, snapping their fingers in front of the whumpee’s face, as if to prove a point. They don’t even blink. “I like it when they put a fight, too, but too much noise, and I can simply admire them like this.”

They tilt the whumpee’s head back, just enough to admire their slack expression. “Isn’t it perfect?”

The caretaker’s mind swims. “So, you hypnotized them?”

A cruel smile appears on their face, squeezing the whumpee’s shoulders.

“Yes,” they answer. “Yes, I did.”

They slowly nod. That explained the sudden change, but seeing the whumpee like this, so dazed and so relaxed, they can’t help but shudder. There’s something really eerie about it. That the whumper holds their mind in their palm of their hand, triggered only by simple words.

“Was it hard?” They find themselves asking. The whumper smiles.

“They’re a stubborn thing,” they chuckle, tilting their head. “You know that. But I can programme them to do whatever you or I want.” Their voice drops dangerously. “You can take them to the spare room, if you really want.”

The caretaker immediately cringes, and they shake their head. They feel more disgust towards the whumper than ever before, and they don’t want to imagine what the poor whumpee’s been through already. If they remember it...

“No, thank you,” they grumble. The blank stare is unnerving them. “I’ll pass.”

The whumper chuckles, still running their fingers through the whumpee’s hair. They stop to observe their face, before a crooked smirk spreads across their lips. They tap their nose gently, cupping their cheeks as though they would with a lover. The whumpee does nothing back.

“Your loss.”

[the-baby-storyteller]

“Ahah, I guess they got me!”

Whumpee smiled lightly, laughing to themself as they cradled their injured arm and leg. They hadn’t expected to get hit, weren’t supposed to even have been that much in the fight, really, but somehow amidst the chaos they’d let their guard down and the enemy had taken it as an opportunity.

A foolish mistake, they knew, but at least it lived up to the character they were trying to portray. Holding back a sigh, they lifted their face and looked around to see the expressions that would certainly be similar.

Their team’s faces were not humorous.

Whumpee winced. They were mildly…perturbed. Their team had a tendency to be serious about most things. It was part of the reason why they were so relaxed themselves if only to even it out. But this…they didn’t want them being serious about this. It was too scary.

“Hey, guys,” they piped, looking around at the stony and hard-chiseled faces around them, “it’s not that bad it’s just-“

“Not…,” a voice interrupted

Whumpee turned around from where they were sitting.

“That bad?”

Teammates eyes were both steely and fiery when they met Whumpee’s. Whumpee twinged.

“I-I mean um,” they scrambled, “it’s not like something that hasn’t happened before ahahahah…”

Their laughter died out. The teammates expressions had darkened even further.

Whumpee cringed. How could they salvage this situation? They hadn’t been counting on getting hurt so they didn’t plan for what to do if the team decided they wanted to extend their overwhelming solemness to dealing with Whumpee as well-

“Take them.”

Whumpee jolted.

“Wait, what? I-“

All of a sudden people started moving around them. The area spun into swift whirlwinds of activity as team members cleared the premises, grabbed supplies, picked them up?!-

“Really, guys,” Whumpee protested as they were being lifted into the air. They were not comfortable with this. “it’s fine I- ah!-“

Whumpee yelped as movement jostled their arm and they keened, pulling it closer to them and biting down hard on their lip to prevent further noise. They started breathing harder, seeing only white. They vaguely felt themself being set down against something as they fought through the blinding, hot pain.

Soft, soothing whispered words floated through the air around them and grounded them. Whumpee cringed when a hand touched them, but soon melted into it as it offered sweet, soothing strokes to them and their face. Their hyperventilations turned into slow gasps and then down to weak, light sobs. Eventually, they calmed down enough to open their eyes and see who was the deliverer of such peace to them.

Their eyes opened to Leader in front of them. Leader’s eyes were still hard, but elements of softness, sweetness, and concern were added to them, caring obvious. They sniffled as Leader continued to pet their hair, almost angry at how it managed to soothe them so. Leader had never been one for big shows of affection, and yet…

“Whumpee,” Leader’s voice rang out, “it’s ok. We’re going to help you. Let us. Let us do this for you this one time. I know you live to avoid help or vulnerability,”

Whumpee opened their mouth at that one but was quickly quieted with a finger to their lips.

“Ah-” Leader silenced, “don’t fight me on this one. We both know it’s true,” they reprimanded. Whumpee stiffened uncomfortably, but had to relax back into Leader’s arms to take the pressure off their wounds.

“But you have to let us help you this time.” Leader continued. “It’s okay.”

“We love you.”

Whumpee’s breath hitched. They’d been slowly averting their eyes from Leader’s during the speech, but at those words they jumped back up, making eye contact once more with Leader’s serious eyes.

Love was….they didn’t know about it. It was hard. It was complicated. They were too afraid of it, knowing so much that they didn’t deserve love that they didn’t even want to try it, to try to get it from anyone.

But…

Whumpee stared at Leader’s gaze. They were intent.

“We. Love. You. And we would love it if you would stop trying to distance yourself and prevent vulnerability by putting up your bit of being a goofball because you’re afraid we don’t,” Leader said with a frown.

Whumpee coughed and looked away again, Leader’s constant intent eye contact suddenly becoming too much.

“But at least for now, let us help you. Okay?

Okay…?

Whumpee hesitated.

They glanced up their eyes at the teammates around them. They were all watching them in the scene, engaged and ready to help with supplies and hands whenever or if ever anything was needed.

“…Okay.”

Whumpee saw Leader smile out of the corner of their eye.

“Okay.”

And Leader picked them up. And Whumpee let them.

[whumpasaurus101]

“N-no”

“No? Darling, you know you’re not allowed to say that word to me. Unless you forgot what happenes when you do… because in that case… I might need to remind you~”

[whumpshots]

Whump Snippet Saturday #38

Caretaker has been using their powers on everyone, but the battle is still ongoing. They feel exhausted and shaky, but the task at hand is pressing and important. Their friend's lives are in danger, they can't just walk away because they don't feel like continuing.

But with every passing minute they feel more lightheaded. Even healing doesn't work as good as it should anymore, wounds are closed, but they pain stays or the other way around. Caretaker feels the panic rise in their chest.

How are they supposed to win this fight if they can't heal their teammates anymore?

"I'm trying, I'm so sorry," caretaker sobs as they try to heal team leader's wounds, that close themselves ever so slowly. As team leader tries to calm caretaker down, blood runs out of caretaker's nose, dripping down their chin, running into their mouth ...

Caretaker tries to wipe it away, but the flow just won't stop. As they concentrate the last bit of their powers on healing team leader, their body gets weaker and weaker, only for caretaker to collapse. Blood flows into their hair as they fight against unconsciousness.

[withdrawingramen]

just the visual of whumpee's limp, bloodied and bruised frame supported by two of whumper's henchmen, red dripping onto the floor from whumpee's mouth as they hunch forward weakly in the grasp of the two men, unable to keep themselves conscious any longer and whumper towering over their slouched figure.

[cpt-winters]

Team Captivity Whump - Leader Whumpee Part 1 (Part 2)

Leader’s eyes moved sluggishly across the cramped cell, widening as they met those of concerned teammates. Chains rattled as he shuffled, bracing his back against the wall.

How had they all got caught?

There was no time to voice that question before the heavy steel door creaked on its hinges, a familiar foe stepping in.

A stiff silence persisted as Whumper's gaze shifted over each of them.

“You.” Leader’s heart skipped a beat as Whumper stopped in front of Right Hand, seizing their jaw despite the snarl of protest. “You’ll do.”

“No.”

Whumper stilled, inclining their head to Leader. “Say something, did you?”

“You’re going to leave them alone,” he stated, keeping his voice level.

Whumper merely scoffed, releasing Right Hand from their grip, who wrenched their face away the instant Whumper’s fingers were free of it.

“And why would I do that?”

“Because you’re going to take me instead,” Leader said, tilting his chin up to level his gaze at Whumper as they approached.

“Leader no-” Right Hand cut in, arms jerking against their restraints. “You can’t!”

A ghost of a smile tugged at Whumper’s lips.

“Get the hell away from him!” Right Hand shouted, thrashing against the heavy chains, as Whumper squatted down in front of Leader.

Leader stiffened as Whumper roughly pressed the open wound on his temple, sneering at the blood caking their glove as they pulled away.

“You’re a bold one,” they remarked.

Leader's stomach churned as Whumper leaned in closer.

“I'll fix that.”

[inevitable-pretty-words]

Content – vampire whumper, sadistic whumper, intimate whumper, vampire whumpee, ex-bloodbag whumpee, mentions of past dehumanization, pet whump and degrading language, non-con touch and kissing, fear of mouth whump (pulling out fangs), which doesn't happen, fear of being manipulated

They could feel Whumper's finger touching their upper teeth, one by one, as they tried not to move and keep Whumper's gaze. Whumper was smiling and their pretty red eyes looked like they were shining and Whumpee couldn't understand what in this weird situation made them feel this way. This wasn't torture, not yet, Whumper was just glaring at their teeth without a single word, as if they were deciding what their next move should be, but the prolonged waiting got on Whumpee's nerves.

"You have such beautiful fangs, you know?" Whumper broke the silence, their words made Whumpee frown involuntarily, as they tried to understand what Whumper meant by this.

Whumper removed their hand from their face, although Whumpee thought they could still feel their unwanted touch, allowing them to speak.

Whumpee closed their mouth and gulped, their face showed only pure confusion.

"What? What... did you say??"

Instead of expected response, they only got a scolding gaze and it didn't take long for them to realize what a mistake they had made.

"I apologize, I really apologize, Master, I was just... I was just surprised by your words and..." Whumper interrupted them, closing their mouth with their hand.

"You had all the right to be surprised, darling." Whumpee was sure they heard laughter in their voice. "I won't punish you this time."

Whumpee frowned again, new word couldn't leave their mind, they couldn't stop repeating in their thoughts how their Master called them. What was happening, really? Was this some kind of a new, sick game, using pretty words to describe them, making them feel so nice, even loved to destroy their stupid hopes shortly after?? They didn't know and it was slowly making them anxious.

Whumper catched their gaze and moved their hand to their hair, making the distance between them too small.

Whumpee didn't dare to lower their gaze, even if they felt increasingly claustrophobic, not just because of how close they both were right now, but because of the constant touch and the look that Whumper kept directing at him that they couldn't really identify.

"You said that... my fangs are... beautiful" they felt strange saying words like that, so unusual, like a fever dream. "What does that mean, Master?"

Whumper smiled.

"Exactly that, darling. They're beautiful. You are beautiful."

Whumpee ignored the irrationality of the whole situation, put aside the questions swirling in their head and tried to focus on what Whumper was going to do next instead. It was more important than why the hell they started calling them "darling", using such a sweet tone reserved only for lovers.

"Are you going to... pull my fangs out?" they said quietly, sudden realization made them shiver.

That's why Whumper had touched their teeth before, that's why they were in such a good mood, because Whumpee was going to be tortured. And their pain was the only thing that made Whumper ecstatic before.

They closed their eyes, unable to continue to look at the monster sitting just in front of them.

"Why do you think so?" Unexpected words made them look at Whumper again. "Of course I'm not, your fangs looks prettier in your mouth, sweetheart."

They couldn't stand it any longer.

"What's with those names?!" they dared to say, forgetting to use the word "Master" again. "I'm sorry, I.. I mean, why... why are you calling me that, Master?"

Whumper smiled.

"What, don't you like it?" they teased, confusing them even more, if it was even possible.

"I... I do, I guess? But... I wonder what in my behavior made... made you change your approach to me, Master. I... used to be your pet, right? Your bloodbag, your... your filthy, disgusting human" they spat out the words as if they were burning them. "And now you're calling me darling..." they mumbled, too lost in their thoughts to try to understand them on their own.

Whumper placed their other hand on their cheek and brought Whumpee's face even closer to them. And although their unwanted dirty touch made them want to move away as far as possible, they were grateful that they could feel it instead of the pain.

"Yes. You were exactly like that."

Whumpee grimaced.

"But you aren't a pitiful human now. I turned you. You're more than that."

Whumper brought their face even closer, so that Whumpee could see the small black spots in their bloody eyes.

"I made you so perfect."

Whumpee felt the first kiss on their cheek. They tried with all their might not to move away, to please their Master.

"I destroyed you, made you into a perfect pet, just to turn you into something even better later."

The second kiss was closer to their mouth. Whumpee trembled involuntarily with disgust.

"It was all my precious project, to make a wonderful vampire like you, so full of power and still afraid, so strong and yet unable to say something wrong without the paralyzing fear of punishment" they whispered their sickly-sweet words while kissing them closer and closer to their lips.

"You are my art."

Whumper finally reached their lips and lost themself in a too long, intimate kiss.

Whumpee almost threw up.

[cryptidwritings]

Pocket

My first foray into tiny whump, because I was really inspired by this post and couldn't get the idea out of my head.

Content: accidental caretaker, caretaker new master, tiny whumpee, immortal whumpee, conditioned whumpee, abandonment, magical whumpee, nonmagical caretaker.

...

It was cold. Eight am was no reasonable time to be outside or among a crowd.

Emery stood with a cup of coffee in her hand and a pair of sunglasses on, huddled in her winter coat with four hundred dollars in cash clenched territorially in her pocket.

Hopefully she could get this storage unit for cheap. She couldn't throw a bunch of money around and, judging by the crowd and the cars they showed up in, they had more than twice what she did at their disposal. This was their job, and Emery was there only at the chance to rent the only open storage locker remotely close to her.

She was desperate, basically. The underpaid employee on the phone basically told her to try, but there wasn't a guarantee.

The auction began with a small unit. Dirty, barely anything in it. It went for ten bucks. Emery was cautiously optimistic. Maybe that was an omen to the crowd, but a green light for her. After all, she didn't care what was actually in the locker.

They approached. The unit was opened. Emery took a peak over the crowd on her tip-toes.

"Another garbage unit."

"Pretty sure I saw that same desk going for fifteen bucks. Been on the site three months."

The bidding began, and it went from five to twenty. Okay, no big deal. She put her hand up. Thirty. Then forty.

"Sold! For fifty five dollars. Make sure to pay at the desk."

Emery was shaking. What a rush. She ran to the office, warmer and way more awake.

"Sorry, it's already been signed for."

"What? But... I really need a locker."

"Sorry, dunno what to tell you."

Emery paid. "Is there any way-"

"No. Empty the locker by tomorrow or we'll have to charge you, okay?"

Fucking fantastic.

By the time she opened the locker, she had almost forgotten just how much stuff was actually in it.

The door slapped open with an echoing bang, and she stepped inside. She started with the big things up front. A desk and bedroom set. She took pictures and placed them for free with pickup.

She kept going, finally having cleared a path to the back where a large piece of furniture sat in the back corner, covered by a painters cloth. Emery pulled it down, gawking at a large, and really heavy, armoire.

It was the nicest piece in the unit, which had plenty of room for her things. Maybe she could sell it? Make some money to spend?

She began her investigation by looking at the back. The flashlight on her phone found nothing. Then she moved to the doors; outfitted with ornate brass pulls and hand carved vines encircling them. She pulled it open, assessing the doors and finding a little marks on the inside. Unreadable.

Emery turned on her flashlight again, this time turning it to the inside of the cabinet. It was full of little trinkets. Tiny ceramic animals, ballet figurines made of china, porcelain dolls that looked... expensive as fuck.

Then, in the very back of the bottom shelf, there was a glass box. It was the biggest thing in the cabinet; about eight inches long and six inches wide. She lift it from its spot, careful not to knock anything over. Maybe it was something rare. She took a look, surprised.

It was a charming miniature bedroom with a wooden bed and nightstand, complete with a crochet circular rug, a cozy chair, and a light hanging from the glass roof with wires that led through the base to a battery underneath. She turned it on, and that's when she spotted a little person with green hair lying in the bed, asleep.

It looked so real.

Especially when it... opened it's... eyes?

"What the fuck!" She almost dropped the thing, but caught it as a little scream came whistling out of the glass. She put it on a shelf that matched her height, and witnessed for herself the little thing... the little person, pushing themself off of the floor and fixing their upturned nightstand.

"Oh no. Oh no." Their voice was worried as they cleaned up quickly, glancing at Emery as she gaped at them.

"H-hello!" They said, nervously, still attending to the mess. "I'm s-sorry I scared you."

Emery didn't answer, too shocked. It was talking... to her.

The little thing looked at her again, giving her it's full attention. "I... I'm sorry... master didn't like my room to be messy... I... do you..." their face twisted and they began to cry. "I don't want to make you mad. P-please don't put me back in there!"

"Oh..." Emery snapped out of her stupor. "No. I... I'm sorry I just can't believe you're... alive?"

The thing... whatever it was... was still crying but put on a smile.

"Thank you! Yes. I-" it sniffed. "I didn't mean to scare you. M-my name is Pocket."

"Pocket?" Emery said. "What... are you?"

Pocket smiled, their cheeks turning rosy. "I'm a pixie!"

"A pixie." Emery relaxed back, realizing she had dropped her phone on the ground in all the excitement. She picked it up, groaning at the cracked screen glass. "Damn it, all."

"Are you upset, master?"

At that, Emery looked back up at... Pocket, whose rosy cheeks suddenly were sapped of color. Their emerald-green eyes flooded with tears again.

"Oh, no!" Emery reassured, holding up her phone. "I just cracked my phone. But it isn't your fault!"

They beamed at the reassurance but couldn't stop their tears. They hid their face behind their hands a moment, taking small breaths. When they removed their hands, it was as if they weren't crying at all, and their emerald eyes had turned a bright peridot.

"Oh good! I'm so glad you're not upset! I-"

"Hello?"

Emery turned to see a man at the entrance of the unit.

"Are you the one who asked about renting this locker?"

"Yeah, that's me. Am I taking too long?"

"No, not at all. The other tenant fell through, actually. Do you still need it?"

Emery's eyes widened. "Yes! Um, just give me one-" She glanced at pocket, who was already lying back in their bed, still as before. She blinked, suddenly feeling as if their interaction might have been a dream.

She turned back to the man. "Nevermind. I'll follow you."

[jakkon-and-rose-topic]

MASTER POST - Chronological Order :]

Here's my new master post!

My main blog is @the-ellia-west

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Characters

Jakkon (Jak, Horns) - A Male Satyr and certified Whumpee who's been through hell and back and isn't done suffering. Very much an Alcoholic. 31 in human years.

Rosenia (Rose, Petals) - A Female Rose-themed Fae and Jak's sister-in-law. She's tired and stressed, but she loves Jak a lot as a brother and will do anything to help him even though he doesn’t want her to. 29 in Human years.

Eveny (Evie, Ev) - A Female Lilac-themed Fae Who was 2 years younger than Rose. She was very adorable and sweet, Married to Jak before she died at about 26 in human years.

Rune (Runie) - Eveny and Jak's son. He was about 3 or 4 in human years when he died and was a very sweet, innocent little baby.

Phennim (Finn) - A Male Harpy who was Jak's former best friend before the fire that killed Eveny, where Finn Saved Jak and Jak doesn't want anything to do with him anymore. Nemesis/Rival relationship.

Morena - An elven witch who is kind and formal to everyone, trying to help wherever she can with her magic and potions. She has a mutual respect with Jak, and a major crush on Finn.

Silas - A Sentient Statue with Major Daddy (Patron God) issues who just wants everyone to know they are loved.

Wildrun (Wild, Wil) - A Phantom/Mist Noble's son, who really dislikes his adoptive abusive family and HATES Jak's guts. He just wants to have fun and be free.

Pherun - Baby (Satyr who looks Like Jak's son)

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PLEASE LEAVE COMMENTS

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Scenes (More to be added) - They hop all around the timeline

Love - Jak and Eveny Just after their Wedding

Grief - Jak after Eveny's death

Gone - Jak and Rose at Eveny's Funeral

Forget - Jak's intro to Alchoholism After TRAUMA

Empty - Is Life worth living anymore?

History - This one takes place on a mundane evening before the inciting incident

Arena - Jak and Rose's intro from someone else's POV

Dogs - A scene I need to edit, which shows Jak's terror of Dogs

Rivalry - Jak and Wild's Rivalry

Swimming - Jak and Silas bond over their mutual inability to swim

Defense - Jak kills a guy

Gift - Rose & Jak Wholesome Moment

Eynalis - The party

Letting go - Jak Tells Rose To forget him

Argument - Tension

Withdrawals - *Jazz hands* The Poll winner, here, ya sick degenerates.

(Other Stuff)

A Memory

What Used to Be

Rune's Fate

Eveny's Fate

Jak's Fate (?)

Fae and Nonhuman Details

How everybody met

Jak's Psychology #1

Jak's Psychology #2

Jak being a Dick Compilation

Incredibly Accurate Picrew of the main 2

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Go follow @corinneglass @i-hate-happy-endings @fantasy-things-and-such @cybercelestian @pastellbg @nkikio @darkandstormydolls @aalinaaaaaa @thelazywitchphotographer

[avvail-whumps]

Royal Bought: Sampling #5

previous · masterlist · next

content warnings: vampire whump, defiant whumpee, human auction house, captivity, manhandling, minor blood

The vampire’s grasp was unrelenting, but that was to be expected when Luke had done something as stupid as spit in his face. 

He could still taste the sticky glob of blood between his teeth, pooling from his split lip, a numbing, throbbing sensation having replaced the aching pain by now. The tip of his boots clipped against the edge of the stairs as he was unceromiously hoisted up, his eyes watering. 

Luke heard the clang of the door being pushed open, revealing a more modern interior as he was led — or better yet, dragged — down the corridor. It was buzzing with workers passing by, mostly vampires, but even then, Luke caught a glimpse of some of the blank faced humans working obediently. 

It sent a shiver down his spine. 

No one really paid attention to them, all except the occasional glance, no doubt due to Luke’s bloodied face and the way he was being manhandled down the corridor. Was it uncommon for humans to fight back? He didn’t think it was that, so much. They were merely glancing at him as if he was this wild, untamed dog with no manners. 

The vampire eventually came to a stop in front of a door, pushing Luke inside the room with a hard shove. He staggered, the grip on his hair having been released, a cry of relief coming from his sore scalp. The door was shut behind him, and even though Luke wanted to wrench his head around and send a deadly glare towards the creature, he was more taken aback by one sat on a comfortable looking couch in front of him. 

This vampire looked older, his lips pulled into a calming smile. 

The room was strange to Luke. He had grown up in a camp in the middle of the wilderness, making use of anything they could around them to live. There were things in here that he had never seen before - more namely, the light source of the room. There were no windows here, and yet, the place was not shrouded in darkness. 

Luke’s eyes wandered around in confusion. 

“Welcome,” the older vampire hummed kindly, gesturing to the space in front of him. “Please, take a seat.”

There was a table with rectangular sheets of paper and what seemed to be some sort of small kit of tools. Luke’s eyes narrowed in suspicion, throwing a subtle glance over his shoulder. The previous creature had closed the door behind him, remaining in the room. He was looking at Luke with disdain etched into those hardened features.

“There’s no need to be afraid,” the older vampire lulled, drawing Luke’s attention back to him like a magnet. He swallowed uneasily at the pleasant aura the vampire was exuding. His voice was soothing and calm. Why? Wasn’t he here to be sold off? “I know this all might be a little new and confusing for you. Let me introduce myself: my name is Silvan. And you must be Luke.” 

Luke shifted uncomfortably at the knowledge of his name, uttered with such confidence. Silvan must have been quite an old vampire, considering the skin on his pale face was slightly weathered, and there were hundreds of years lingering in his eyes. He was wearing a tailored suit, black on dark raspberry sorbet, contrasted against his greying hair. 

Silvan’s eyes were intense, even when Luke wasn’t looking at them, and it was like they were stripping every personal detail from him with ease. His voice was like smooth velvet when he spoke, low, dulcet tones coming from his tongue.  

“You lived beyond the Collared Forest, am I correct?” 

The first vampire moved silently behind him, as if his feet didn’t even touch the ground. When Luke glanced at him again, he had retreated from the door, boxing him in. Unlike Silvan, this was a clear warning to sit down and do as he was told. 

Luke’s throat bobbed as he swallowed, the taste of copper still fresh on his tongue. Against his better judgement, his legs managed to gain some of their strength back, and he begrudgingly circled around the plush couch, sitting opposite the older vampire. The material was incredibly soft, and Luke wondered what it was made from, how it was shaped in such a peculiar way, and if everything here was this comfortable. 

“Why do you care?” Luke gritted out, his narrowed eyes watching the older vampire like a hawk as he reached for some soft tissues out of a box, holding them out for him to take. He didn’t. 

“Ah, I’ll take that as a yes then, I suppose,” he mused, brow cocked in amusement. His pointed eyes flitted over to the other vampire with a hum. “His blood?” 

“He was misbehaving,” he sniffed codly, nose turned up. “He’s ill mannered and has a ridiculous temperment.” 

Luke was almost offended. They were talking about him as if he couldn’t hear them. 

“The scent will spread fast, Silas,” the older vampire sighed deeply, his head tilted and hands back in his lap. He didn’t look like he was even considering Luke’s blatant rudeness for ignoring the tissues handed to him. 

“So do rumours,” Silas spoke smoothly. “It won’t matter in the end.” 

Luke’s fingers twisted into his thighs. The older vampire’s gaze had almost softened for a brief moment when his eyes wandered back over to him, as if remembering that Luke was here and they had a job to do. Judging by the kit on the table and the way the other boy had informed him that humans were hoarded off for “sampling”, he figured this was exactly that. A sampling of his blood to determine if he was expensive produce, he didn’t doubt. 

“The process can be pleasant if you just behave,” Silvan smiled warmly, speaking to him as though he would be inclined to take him up on that advice. “You’re very important to us. We don’t want to have to hurt you to keep you in line.” 

He found that hilarious; vampires weren’t exactly a beacon of truth. The sticky blood on his face and the numbness of his lip was a reminder that they had no issue hurting their livestock if it meant keeping them in line. 

“Bullshit,” Luke hissed, his nose wrinkling in disdain. “Important? You’re selling us off like cattle.” 

“Cattle?” The older vampire mused. “You’re not cattle. We pride ourselves on taking care of our merchandise. We make sure you’re all healthy, fed well, given the proper care and attention when you need it.” 

“You sell us,” Luke breathed, his voice almost breathless from even having to utter such horrifying words. 

“What happens when you’re bought has nothing to do with us,” Silvan informed firmly, as if that justified the crowd of humans they had awaiting their horrible fate down below. “But here, Luke, you’re safe. If you don’t behave, then we, unfortuantly, have to take the necessary precautions to keep you in line.” 

Luke licked his lip. The flesh flared with a raging intensity for a brief moment, and he could map out the distinct tear. Almost to make a point. Silvan noticed it, but he didn’t comment, head tilted in curiosity. 

“Physical violence will, of course, be enforced if you don’t cooperate,” the older vampire hummed. “But as I’m sure you know, we have much better, and much tamer, methods. They can feel good.” 

He made sure he wasn’t looking at Silvan’s eyes. He felt himself shivering at the memories of Justinian’s compulsion, not wanting his own bodily autonomy to be stripped away from him like that so easily. 

“Feel good?” He echoed bitterly. 

“Of course,” Silvan smiled. “Some things can be quite euphoric. Compulsion can relax the mind and the body. Even a feeding, if handled properly, can feel good for you, too.” 

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” 

“Many humans quite enjoy it,” the older vampire chuckled softly. “They offer themselves up willingly. That’s the price of cooperation in this place. As a human who grew up beyond the Collared Forest, I don’t expect you to understand fully just yet.” 

Luke’s chest bubbled with an irritated scoff. His leg was bouncing anxiously at a continuous pace. 

“What does that have to do with anything?” He growled slowly, not missing the way Silvan gestured to Silas for a brief moment, who stepped around the table to collect the tissues the older vampire handed to him. Luke suddenly went tense on the couch when Silas turned to face him again. 

“You are somewhat of delicacy,” Silvan hummed, treading carefully as if he was pondering on the words as he said them. “It’s rare for there to be humans who lived so far from our territory here. You’ll cause quite a stir in the markets once word spreads around. Especially if the scent of your blood is anything to go off.” 

His fingers twitched, itching to reach for his necklace and squeeze it tight for any sort of stability. His heart began racing even faster than before, throwing him for a loop. His adrenaline surged as Silas stepped closer. 

“Am I supposed to appreciate that? That I’m good money for you?” He hissed coldly, leaning away from the vampire as prowled closer. “Stay away from me.” 

His demands were ignored. 

“You want to sample this blood?” Silas asked, his nose wrinkling in disgust at the sight of Luke’s face. A hand closed around his forearm, yanking him back across the couch with a force that gave his shoulder an ache and his skull a wobble. 

“No,” Silvan hummed, rising from the seat himself, and leaning down to collect something sharp from the tool kit in front of him. “I’d like it fresh from the vein. But, please. Wipe his face - and let him struggle.” 

Maybe it was a cruel demonstration of how no matter how hard Luke fought against this, there was nothing he could do against them. No matter how many times he thrashed, ignored the throbbing pain from the tight holds, or retaliated with his own kicks and smacks, there was nothing he could do. 

Silas had him easily pinned down on his back, one single hand locking his wrists together above his head. The vampire’s knee crushed into his ribs, pressing down uncomfortably onto his lungs, careless of Luke’s comfort as he wiped the blood from his face. Luke’s legs kicked out, breathing heavily between clenched teeth, screaming muffled curses and insults against the hand clamped over his mouth, tissues soaking up any fresh blood from his wound. 

Silvan was hovering over him now, and Silas easily wrenched his head to the side, exposing the flesh of his neck. Goosebumps exploded across the expanse of skin, and squeezed his eyes shut tight.

“It’ll sting only for a moment,” Silvan warned him calmly, the feeling of cold hands prodding against his neck making him squeal. He felt a sharp prick, his body seizing against his own will. The older vampire pressed something cold against the area, gave it a couple swipes, and then drew away. Silas’ disgruntled expression darkened for a second, letting Luke stew in the position for a moment, before finally letting go of him. 

He slapped a hand to his neck, sitting up so fast he’d almost gone dizzy. 

“What did you do?” He snapped, his voice still trembling from the hysterics he’d built himself up to. His heart was pounding hard against his ribs. Silvan pinched the small, blood coated needle with his fingers, opting to ignore Luke for a moment. He swiped the needle swiftly against his tongue, giving himself a moment to taste the blood. Silvan then hummed, folded the needle between a white napkin, and placed it down on the table. 

“Interesting,” he merely commented, and Luke awkwardly rubbed the side of his neck. “Though, I am not suprised. It’s guaranteed his blood will attract many well-off vampires.” 

Silas dumped the bloody tissues in the bin. He didn’t look pleased by the situation at all, his eyes darkened and his expression grim. He wasn’t fatigued by Luke’s struggle at all, having not even broken a sweat, it seemed, or put in hardly enough effort to even quicken his breathing compared to him, who was still trying to catch his breath. 

“He’s rabid,” Silas sneered. “Doesn’t matter how attractive his blood is. No one will take him with such an imputent temperament. None that could match the price, certainly.” 

Silvan took a seat once more, throwing one leg over the other languidly as he observed Luke with those gleaming eyes, as if calculating exactly what he had in store for him. He clenched his jaw, trying not to let any slither of fear pass over his face. He didn’t want to give them the satisfaction if his fight caused them this much trouble. Luke wasn’t going to make himself easy to sell. 

“We have plenty of time to prepare before the auction,” Silvan informed, though he seemed to be talking to Luke as well. He refused to catch his eye. “We’ll give you an opportunity to settle into your circumstances, Luke. I understand this is difficult for you, but there is no denying the inevitable.” 

Bitter resentment, as well as this cold, crackling helplessness cut through him like a knife. His voice had almost lost its strength. “Fuck you…”  

Silvan only smiled warmly. 

“I’ll be sending you to Ileana, now,” he explained, his hands interlocked on his lap casually. “She will take care of everything from there. She’s be your handler, and believe me, our aim here is to take very good care of you. You’ll be provided quality food, clothes, and a room to stay.” 

Luke bristled. “Lucky me, huh?” 

Silas’ eyes narrowed an inch. “She will also be teaching you how to best accommodate your master, or mistress. It won’t be good for you to misbehave, Luke. We’re giving you the benefit of the doubt because of your…” He gave him a subtle once over. “...unique upbringing, but push your luck, and we will, unfortunately, have to risk completely stripping your mind.” 

He remembered the humans he’d seen down the corridor. Lifeless eyes, blank faces, mindlessly following their orders. An empty shell to be used. A horrible shiver rolled down his spine at the thought, and he was sure Silvan caught on to the way his heartbeat quickened.

“You don’t want that, do you, Luke?” 

“I don’t want any of this,” he croaked. 

“Well,” Silvan hummed, unsympathetic. “That is something you will have to come to terms with.” 

The older vampire suddenly straightened, glancing at a unique looking contraption on his wrist. Luke eyed it wearily. 

“We need to press on and sample the rest of the humans,” Silvan smiled, his gaze flickering over to Silas with a beaming smile. “Please take him to Ileana and bring me the next one.” 

Luke’s expression soured when Silas grasped his arm tightly, yanking him onto his feet. He gave a firm tug, but he wasn’t going to shake the vampire’s grip from him, not without a miracle. He could feel Silvan watching him go intently, his voice rising when he got to the door. 

“Good luck, Luke,” the older vampire grinned, flashing his fangs. His voice went right through him, making his stomach twist. “Have a pleasant stay.”

tag list – @whumpatize-me-captain @whump-me-all-night-long @softvampirewhump @d-cs @obsessednerd505 @suspicious-whumping-egg @sapphirechao @sparrowsage @excessive-vampires

[shywhumpauthor]

Distant

Cw: past and present torture, scar/body shaming, self depreciation, isolation, all hurt/no comfort, creepy whumper, emotional manipulation, gaslighting, noncon touching, extremely vague implications of potential non-con relationship

They separated themself because of their work. That’s what Leader told themself. Getting caught up in the dynamics of the team would only ever be a distraction from the job they had to focus on.

They put distance for a reason. They only interacted the others during meetings or missions. They ate, slept, and planned in their own chambers, far away from the common area that the team shared. They didn’t talk with them, only giving orders when necessary. They led the team, strong even from afar. They were efficient and calculated with everything they did. It wasn’t isolation, it was tactic.

Any personal connections would only distract them, cloud their work and blur the lines between strictly coworkers and the strong familial bond that the others seemed to share. Sometimes Leader would walk by, only reason they were outside their own room being some sort of necessity, and see them. All of five of them, huddled on a couch barely big enough to fit three people, laughing and fooling around as some movie droned on the television. A few plush throw blankets shared among the group. A bowl of popcorn balanced in Teammate’s lap, while Youngest reached over Medic to grab a handful. A loud, shared laugh when that popcorn flew a moment later and smacked Hero in the face.

Leader had walked in and snatched the remote, clicking the TV off.

“We leave at five tomorrow,” they snapped, their lips pressing together as they fixed a glare across the team. Watching as each of their eyes dropped in turn.

“Sorry, Leader,” Right Hand muttered, their posture straightening as they sat up and pushed the blanket off their legs.

Words rested heavy on Leader’s tongue, but they clenched their jaw and swallowed them back. They set the remote down none too gently on the end table, the plastic hitting loud against the wood. Stalked out of the room a moment later, pausing just outside the hall when they heard Youngest’s voice.

“What’s their problem?” The newest teammate whispered, sound carrying just enough so Leader could hear. Something in their chest tightened, a cold emotion seeping through their gut.

“Don’t mind them,” Right Hand mumbled back, words obscured slightly by a shuffle of movement. “They’ve always had a stick up their ass. It’s not personal.”

Leader quickly walked away.

They couldn’t get close. The walls were there for a reason. The team might not necessarily like them, or even respect them, but they listen, and that’s all Leader needs them to do. They weren’t there to be friends with anyone. They were there to lead.

That’s what they did. They led mission after mission, never ending with anything other than overall success. Sure, sometimes there were hiccups, bumps in the plan but success was success, even if hard earned. If they all came back to base, intact and breathing with whatever supplies they had been sent to collect or whatever villain they had been ordered to defeat conquered, it was a success.

Success. They had destroyed the weapon Whumper was building. That’s what the plan had been. Capturing the criminal would have been a nice bonus, but it wasn’t the plan. The plan that was successful. The ride to return to base, the six of them packed in the open back of a military grade Jeep, there was an air of pride that settled across the team. Exhausted, worn, but well-earned satisfaction.

Right Hand sat with one arm around Youngest’s shoulders, holding them against them as the vehicle rocked over the uneven roads. The kid was out cold, dead tired. They had done well, Leader had been watching. They did everything right, just the way they had learned in training. Fought back three henchmen at once, helped hold the line of defense while Leader went to complete the mission. If anyone earned rest, it really was them. A bruise bloomed across their jaw, a small split tearing their eyebrow, but they seemed to have avoided any serious blows.

Teammate sat to their other side, looking dead tired but smiling softly. One hand fooled with Youngest’s hair, the other resting close to their chest wound in gauzy white bandages.

Hero and Medic sat close, against the wall that separated the body of the vehicle from the canvas tarp section the team sat in. The former was bandaging Hero’s leg, which had a nasty looking slit running down nearly the entire length of their thigh to their knee, speaking to them quietly.

Leader sat separate from them all, by the back door where the tarp would flip up and the gate would open when it was time for them to exit. A low ringing buzzed in their ears as they focused on a flickering spot of light, one that just managed to filter through a gap in the canvas. Nausea clawed at their stomach and crept up their throat, the sting of bile making their eyes burn as they forced their breathing to remain steady. They clutched their jacket tightly around them, the thick fabric doing nothing to soothe the continuous chills that raked up their spine. One arm wrapped around their abdomen, holding the coat closed over them while their other hand was stuck through the open zipper, palm pressing firm against their side.

They didn’t think it was bleeding too badly, but their dark jacket would turn bloodstains invisible so they had nothing to go off of but the warm, sticky liquid spilling past their fingers. It had definitely slowed in the past half hour, which they knew was a good sign. Pain painted darkness around the corners of their vision, but they were able to blink back the clarity. That was also a good sign.

Only a few more minutes until they were back to base. Until they could slip out of the truck and away to their chambers. Medic would take care of the rest of the teams’ injuries, they didn’t have to worry about them. Right Hand would give the orders for the night, though there wasn’t much to do other than rest and recuperate. It would all be taken care of. If Youngest were to question where they were, Hero would roll their eyes and say something like “they’re mad we didn’t catch Whumper. Just let them sulk,” and that would be the end of it. They doubted they would ask though. It was clear the newest teammate didn’t like Leader, which was fair enough. They were just the asshole who ordered the rest of them around, the obnoxious commander that no one liked but they were too scared of to not follow orders.

A long time ago, long before Youngest joined the team, before Medic and Hero were ever officially assigned to their squad, they had tried. They had tried to form the kind of bond they saw across the team. Before they were Leader, back when they were under Mentor’s command. They had never quite fit in to the dynamic. Leader had been painfully aware. They tried not to notice the way the atmosphere would change when they entered a room, the way their team would address them politely but the tension beneath was clear. The unease, unsettlement.

Leader didn’t blame them. Back then, they hadn’t bothered to hide. They would walk into training with a tank top and shorts, scars and mangled flesh practically on display. When they bore Whumper’s marks not with shame but anger, a drive for revenge they dreamed about enacting.

The first time they had heard Mentor talking to Commander, they hadn’t really been surprised. More hurt than anything, quiet voices floating through the hall after combat training. The pitying words laced with a disgust only Leader could hear. “What happened to them?” But concern was the last thing in their tone. That was the first time, hearing how clearly they spoke behind Leader’s back, they realized just how warily the others acted around them. How they walked on eggshells whenever Leader entered a room. They didn’t think anyone really noticed—or cared—when they pulled away after that. When they retreated to their chambers, started eating meals in their room. Opting to train alone rather than with the group. Wearing thick long sleeved shirts whenever they went anywhere outside the privacy of their own room. And then even when they were alone. The ugly, uneven, raised scars only ever seemed to mock them, until they couldn’t bear to look at them.

Leader squeezed their eyes shut with a shudder, pain rippling across their side.

The mission had been a success. They destroyed the weapon.

All because Whumper had let them.

The villain had intercepted them the moment Leader had split off from the group to fulfill their part. Had wrapped their hands around their throat and shoved them against the wall with enough force to knock the breath out of them.

“Oh Leader, it’s so good to see you again.” Whumper grinned, their thumbs digging against Leader’s throat hard enough to make them gag. Only laughing as they scrambled to claw at the grip restraining them. “You really should come visit more often. I was starting to miss you.”

It still hurt to take a deep breath. The hood of their jacket pulled up and their chin tucked down, the bruises that were still settling into an angry red obscured. They couldn’t imagine swallowing.

“How badly do you want this, Leader? What would you do to make sure your team leaves here alive?” Whumper had asked.

“Anything. Please.”

Anything was a very broad category. Leader had meant it. Anything. Whatever you want. Just let them leave. Leader’s head throbbed as they leaned it back against the canvas. They had to be almost home.

“They don’t know, do they?” Whumper asked, a blade dancing between their fingers as Leader stripped off their jacket, then their shirt. Folded them with trembling hands and set them aside.

“No.” Leader answered, truth weighing heavy on their voice. Whumper only tipped their chin, a silent order that rang loud through the room. The back room, the very weapon that Leader was supposed to destroy constructed right in the center of the lab. They lowered themself to their knees besides it, letting their head dip in submission.

Their back ached. The rail dug into their spine, sending a small jolt down their back at every bump in the road. They would be back soon. Deep breaths. Slow inhale, slow exhale. Only a few more minutes until they’d be able to retreat to the only haven they had.

“You haven’t forgotten, have you, Leader?” Whumper crouched in front of them, dragging the flat of the blade down Leader’s cheek. Twisting it so the tip traced across their bottom lip, barely scratching the skin as they dragged it down their chin, their neck.

“No.” Leader responded quietly, fighting to remain still as the blade traced an old scar down their sternum. Drawing a faint line of red over the raised skin. “No sir.”

The road changed from gravel to dirt beneath the tires and Leader almost cried with relief. A couple minutes. Only a few hundred more seconds until they could disappear. They watched as Teammate lightly shook Youngest’s shoulder, rousing them. As Medic began to pack their supplies back into their first aid duffel. Something twisted in their stomach.

“You were always so good for me,” Whumper whispered, the tip of the knife resting just above Leader’s naval. Their other hand raised to cup the hero’s cheek, thumb brushing over a faint scar that split their cheekbone. Their touch was so gentle, so caring Leader couldn’t help but lean into it. Shame and longing burning in their chest as Whumper smiled sadly at them.

“Oh you poor thing. Surrounded by your team but so, so alone.” They let the commander rest their head in their palm, watching the emotions dance behind Leader’s eyes. “I’ve never hurt you as bad as they’ve been, have I?” Their voice was barely audible, but the truth rang through the room. Tears stung Leader’s eyes, a single one slipping from the corner and trailing down their cheek. Whumper tenderly brushed it away.

They could still feel the hands against their skin. Phantoms of touch lingering over their face, brushing away the tears Leader fought back with every sliver of strength they could muster. Something was eating away at them from inside, tearing them apart piece by piece. They stumbled up as the truck finally stopped, not even waiting for the engine to turn off before they opened the back gate and climbed out, movements uneven and graceless.

“You really need a win, don’t you?” The words seemed to echo in Leader’s mind, leaving their ears ringing. They let their eyes slip shut, just for a moment. They could almost forget where they were. They could almost forget the tip of the knife resting against their abdomen. They were drowning in the touch, the care from hands that had only ever hurt them. They weren’t sure if they wanted to come up for air.

They nodded against Whumper’s hand, slowly opening their eyes once more.

They were in the base before any of their team got out of the truck. They moved through the halls in a daze, following a route in their mind that they weren’t quite paying attention to. Their hand shook as they typed the code to their room into the keypad by the door, legs wobbling beneath them as they stumbled inside.

They made a straight path for the bathroom, fumbling off their jacket as they went. Blood soaked their undershirt, plastering it to their side but they tugged it over their head, ignoring as it pulled at the wounds.

They snatched a hand towel from the rack it hung on, the white fibers turning red the moment they touched it. They pressed the linen to the wound, swallowing back a hiss. The cuts weren’t bad, but something about it made the gashes sting worse than they would if the towel was soaked in alcohol. They would throw it out later. Not worth trying to wash out. Same with their undershirt.

The mission had been a success. The weapon was destroyed. Gone, Whumper’s plans wrecked. But Leader had failed their assignment. They were supposed to be the one to destroy it, and they hadn’t. Villain had torn apart their own work. Ripped it to shreds right there and burned the remains. Set the whole damn room on fire. Leader could still feel the heat flush against their cheeks.

They let the team escape, though they had the forces to subdue them all. They let them walk away unscathed and celebrating a success that was given to them.

“Hold still for me, alright?” Whumper murmured against Leader’s ear, dragging their empty hand down Leader’s bare side. Feeling the goosebumps rise beneath their fingertips as they stopped along a familiar set of scars by the bottom of their ribcage. Let their palm rest over the marred skin for a few long moments before moving to grip the hero’s arm, holding it still as they raised the knife. Leader shuddered and bit their lip, letting their weight sink to rest on their heels. Their other hand clenched against their thigh, nails digging into their palm.

They couldn’t hold back a gasp as the tip of the blade plunged deep into their skin. The pain was sharp and bright, fire licking below their flesh as Whumper slowly twisted the knife downwards, following the path of a raised scar. Their other hand held Leader’s arm, just above their elbow for stability. Their grip firm, comforting as they hummed a quiet reassurance.

“You’re doing well, Leader.” Whumper said quietly, gaze focused where the knife split the skin, precise and dangerous. “Your team doesn’t recognize how hard you work. They’re fools. All of them.”

“I’ve always seen your dedication. Your strength. You can’t show them your pain or they’ll think you’re weak.”

Whumper’s hand moved up their arm, resting on their shoulder as they began the next deep line. Leader winced and Whumper hushed them.

“I’ve hurt you. I’ve pushed you past your limits, broken you. But I have never thought you were weak.”

Leader pulled the towel away from the wound, grimacing as they did so. They moved to the sink and fumbled with the faucet, putting a clean corner of the towel under the water. They leaned heavily against the counter, slowly bringing the cloth to dab away at some of the drying blood.

The knife dropped away from their skin as a bead of blood rolled down their torso. Whumper’s hand left their skin, pulling aside their own jacket’s hem so they could slip the blade back into its sheath. They shifted onto their knees, even with Leader’s height as they brought both of their hands to either side of their face. Cupping their cheeks with a care Leader had never felt before. Thumbs running soothingly over their cheekbones.

“Never forget who you belong to,” Whumper murmured quietly, pulling Leader’s face forwards so they could press a kiss to their forehead. Lips warm and possessive against their clammy skin, lingering for just a moment before pulling back.

Leader could still feel the heat against their forehead, sticking to their skin as they cleaned the area around the cuts. A small collection, maybe eight lines in total, neat and perfectly in line with the old scars below. Two letters, letters that had once been lost among the dozens of other marks and blemishes, now highlighted in red. Making sure they’d never forget.

They heard a small buzz, vision speckled as they looked down. Their communicator still clipped to their belt, the small screen on top lit dull green with a message. They could only make out the first few letters of the contact, but they knew who it was. Right Hand, probably to confirm they should take over the mission review. They’d take their answer whether Leader responded affirmative or not at all. They didn’t bother to reply.