Pov: Your Future Husband Comes To Your Rescue

Okay but whump scenario where the whumper is forcing the whumpee to scream in order to draw out their friends.

The whumpee tied up, refusing to scream because it would spell doom for their allies. Whumper grins and says, "Oh, I'll make you scream for sure..." before they began to torture the whumpee. Beating them, slashing them up with a knife, whipping them, you name it. The whumper wants them to scream loud and clear to lure their team to the whumper.

Whumpee screaming from the pain involuntarily, tears streaming down their cheeks from both the torture and the guilt that their screams would inevitably draw out their team to their deaths.

Turning the whumpee’s head

-The whumper grabbing them roughly by the chin and forcing them to look them in the eye

-Or pulling them closer so they can cut/burn/whatever them in just the right spot

-OR carefully turning their head so they can “admire” their work, and the whumpee is either too exhausted or too conditioned to resist despite their gentle touch

-Caretaker trying to turn a semiconscious whumpee’s head to look at a face wound, but they flinch away thinking it’s the whumper

-”Don’t look at them/it. Look at me. Just me. Focus on me and everything will be okay.”

-Caretaker telling a feverish whumpee who’s lying in bed to turn their head to the side so they can hold a cold compress to the back of their neck

-Or so they can clean a wound 

y’all understand

FEBUWHUMP2022 DAY 8, ALT 7: BLINDFOLDED

@febuwhump

CWs: creepy/intimate whumper, vague noncon touching, stress position

Whumpee is scared.

They try not to show it, but trapped in complete darkness, not knowing where or when Whumper is going to touch them next...it's hard. It's impossible, really, to hold back the gasps that come each time the monster's fingers trail over their back, and then disappear.

And then run over their chest, and gone again.

And then slide along the inside of their thigh, and again, gone.

Their mouth is free, but they promised, they promised themselves they wouldn't beg, just minutes ago when they'd heard the door open...

"You're really something else," Whumper tells them, and that makes them whimper again, helplessly, because this can't be happening. Not really. One moment they were on their way to Caretaker's, the next—

They don't know. They were just here, blindfolded and confused. But surely Caretaker will come for them. They will.

Whumper's breath ghosts over Whumpee's neck, and they flinch, swinging forward a bit, all their weight forced up on their aching tip toes, the rope around their wrists keeping them above their head cracking on whatever it's attached to.

"Wh...what do you want?" they ask finally, when they've gotten as steady as they can again, trying not to sound as desperate as they are.

Whumper takes Whumpee's chin in their hand, and pulls them forward, far too close.

They chuckle softly, as Whumpee wiggles, off-balance, and quietly say, "You."

Key

Whumper handcuffs Whumpee’s wrists behind their back and puts the key on a chain around Whumpee’s neck, where they can’t reach it.

whumper 4 & whumpee 14 maybe? :)

Whumper 4: “Let's see what's more important to you. Your dignity, or their safety?” / Whumpee 14: “I'll do anything!”

Okay so I'm trying to do some different things with these prompts, so here, have some team whump for once. And a defiant whumpee because I realized I go for quiet ones way too often 🙃 Anyways, I hope you like it Anon <3

-

It’s Whumpee’s fault that they were captured. If Whumpee had been a little faster, a little smarter, Whumper wouldn’t have reached them. If they hadn’t been caught with a blade against their neck, their team wouldn’t have been forced to let go of their weapons and let themselves be captured to save Whumpee’s life.

It is Whumpee’s fault, even if no one dares recognize it. Maybe it’s because they are the youngest member, the one the rest of the team sees as their younger sibling. But the lack of blame on their part does nothing to alleviate the knowledge – if it weren’t for Whumpee, the whole team wouldn’t be locked in a cell right now, hands shackled in front of them and the heaviness of anticipation in the air.

When the door opens, all four of them get up in unison. A true team, Whumpee thinks with a lump in their throat. A true family. One they might’ve ruined.

“So, I see you are all settled in,” Whumper smirks, walking inside with a line of guards close behind. “Have my men been treating you well?”

“Oh yes, feels like a much-needed vacation,” Whumpee replies dryly.

Leader shoots them a warning glance, but all Whumpee can think about is their family’s wrists surrounded by metal because of their failure.

Whumper raises their brows, utterly unimpressed, and looks around the room, eyes wandering through all of them.

“Tell me Whumper, how long did you spend planning this? Did you dream about the moment you’d catch us so you wouldn’t be so alone anymore?” Whumpee smiles, and then wider when Whumper’s eyes slide from Caretaker to them. “I bet it’s awfully lonely here. I mean, who would put up with you? So, my question is: is all of this just so you can have at least a little bit of company you didn’t pay for?” they continue, gesturing at the guards standing against the wall.

The smile on Whumper’s lips doesn’t move, but their eyes grow darker at each word that leaves Whumpee’s lips.

“Whumpee, shut up,” Leader says through gritted teeth.

“But I didn’t finish,” they pout, tipping their head and flashing Whumper a grin. “I was just about to give Whumper some tips. You know, if you want to seem intimidating, you have to work on your tactics sweetie, because right now all you look is pitiful. I’d say you could–”

“Say one more word, sweetie, and I’ll make you pay for each of them with blood,” Whumper says, any trace of a smile gone.

Whumpee only blinks innocently.

“See, this is what I mean, you have to up your captor game, Whumper, you look like–”

“Please excuse them, Whumpee doesn’t know what they are talking about,” Caretaker cuts in, wide eyes locked on Whumper’s. “They do that when they are scared, they don’t mean it. Just tell us what you want for our freedom.”

“What? I am not scared, I'm biting my tongue trying not to laugh–”

“Whumpee stop,” Healer says from their side. It’s barely a whisper, but it carries all of their fear, and Whumpee feels it like a punch to their gut. Their fault. That fear is their fault.

“As I was saying, you look pathetic Whumper, and–”

A hand around their throat stops them this time, pushing them back against the wall with a loud thud. Whumper looks down at Whumpee as they squeeze, only tight enough for Whumpee to know who’s in control.

The team loses it. Three screams sound at the same time and through the corner of their eyes, Whumpee sees Leader, Caretaker, and Healer throwing themselves forward, only to be held back by the waiting guards.

“Go on Whumpee. Tell me all about how pathetic I am.”

They open their mouth, but only a breathless gasp leaves their lips. Whumper smirks.

“Not so funny anymore, huh?”

They open their mouth again, and this time, Whumpee spits right at Whumper’s face – saliva hits and stays on their nose. Whumpee smirks back.

Whumper blinks once before letting Whumpee fall to the ground clutching their throat and fighting for air. They look up just in time to see Whumper wiping the spit away.

“Please, they don’t know what they are doing!” Caretaker shouts, thrashing against the two guards that hold their arms.

With a wave of their hand, Whumper sends one of their guards to grab Whumpee by the arms and pull them up, shoving them toward the door when they don’t resist.

“Whumper! If you want to hurt one of us, take me. Torture me if you will, I won’t fight,” Leader says in a calm voice that barely betrays the fear underneath the words. Whumpee can still see the stiffness on their shoulders and the clenching of their jaw, though. Whumper can too.

“We’ll give you what you want, just don’t touch them,” Healer tries.

Whumper simply turns to the door.

“Don’t worry, I’ll give them back to you,” Whumper says over their shoulder. “As soon as I’ve taught them a lesson or two on how to treat their betters.”

Whumpee doesn’t look back when their team shouts threats and pleads behind them. The mere idea of how much despair must be etched on each of their faces is enough for Whumpee to feel tears pricking their eyes. They are the reason their team was captured, Whumpee tells themself as they hear the door lock behind their back. It is only fair for Whumpee to be the one to hurt.

They aren’t taken far. A door right beside the cell is opened for them, and all Whumpee does when they are pushed inside is suck in a sharp breath and square their shoulders.

“Where are all the jokes now, Whumpee?” Whumper enters the room right behind them and flips the light switch.

The room isn’t big – it’s about the same size as the cell. The only addition to the new one is a small cabinet on the side and a mirrored wall. Whumpee doesn’t dare look at the stains on the floor that look disturbingly like dry blood.

The guard places Whumpee in front of the mirror, and there they stay.

“Jokes?” they repeat, mock shock lacing the words, “I was trying to help you be a better bad guy and you call it jokes? This is exactly why you look like such a–”

“Say one more word, and I’ll have my men bring Caretaker here instead of you.”

The words die on their tongue, swallowed along with the bitterness of fear.

“Ah. I thought that might be it,” Whumper nods, pacing around the room. “You got them captured and now you want to make up for it, huh?”

“And then people say I’m the one who can’t stop talking,” Whumpee rolls their eyes, trying to ignore the squeeze in their heart.

“Do you see that mirror behind me, Whumpee?” They do. It’s the one right in front of them, of course they do. “That is a one-way glass. Do you know what that means?”

“My team is watching this,” they breathe, looking at the mirror for the first time. Only their wide eyes look back.

“Yes. Pity we can’t hear them,” Whumper takes a step closer, stopping right in front of Whumpee. “Because I bet they’ll scream beautifully when I do this,” they say as their closed fist flies into Whumpee’s stomach, making them gasp and double over in pain.

Whumper chuckles and steps away as Whumpee holds back a moan and leans against the wall to keep standing.

“Now, what are we going to do about all those insults?” Whumper muses, crossing their arms and staring at Whumpee as they fight to breathe.

“How about you let my team fucking go and then–“

“Did I allow you to talk, Whumpee?”

Whumpee looks up and bares their teeth. “I don’t need your permission to fucking talk, you fucking creep.”

“Alright, I know where to start. Whumpee, kneel.”

They only laugh. A genuine laugh, that shakes their shoulders and shoos fear away for the time it lasts. “Yeah, right.”

“You can kneel, or I can whip you until you can’t stand anymore. It’s your choice,” Whumper says.

“And you can kiss my ass. That’s all the choices I’m giving you though,” Whumpee smirks, straightening up.

Their captor sighs, but instead of keeping their promise, they tip their head to the side and smile back.

“Let me rephrase this. Whumpee, kneel, or I can whip Caretaker until they can’t stand anymore. And then I will whip Leader. And sweet Healer last, just so I can hear their lovely screams while the others have their backs ruined.”

The sound of Whumpee’s knees hitting the floor echoes around the room, but it doesn’t hurt as much as the idea of their team being hurt in their place. Neither does Whumper’s laugh.

They only watch as Whumper goes to the cabinet and takes something from the drawer. Something made of leather.

“Put it on,” Whumper says, handing it to Whumpee. They laugh when they look at it, but this time there’s only incredulity in the sound.

“You want me to put on a muzzle?”

Whumper raises their eyebrows.

“No fucking way,” Whumpee says, throwing the thing on the floor.

“Did you know that I can have the air passages to your team’s cell closed, Whumpee?” Whumper looks back over their shoulder at the mirror. As if Whumpee could forget that their family is watching this. As if they could ignore the despair they know they are all feeling. “How long do you think it’ll take until they pass out? How long until the air goes out completely and they start convulsing on the floor, fighting for one last breath that you didn’t allow them to take?”

Tears sting their eyes, and though Whumpee fights them, they can’t help the shiver that runs down their spine.

“I bet they would forgive you. They don’t even blame you for getting caught, do they? But you and I both know that all of this is your fault. You already took their liberty, will you take their lives now too? In the name of what, dignity?”

Whumpee looks down at the muzzle, thrown between Whumper’s feet and their knees. Pictures themself putting it on. They feel sick.

“Guards!” Whumper calls, and pure dread fills Whumpee’s veins.

Whumpee reaches for the muzzle. It feels cold in their hands, but the fear feels even colder when they look up at the mirror, watching themself kneeling on the floor, holding the muzzle in their shackled hands. What is their team thinking? Are they screaming and fighting to get to them? Are they watching in silent horror?

“Let’s see what’s more important to you. Your dignity, or their safety?” Whumper’s eyes are locked on Whumpee’s when they look up.

“If I do this, will you promise me you won’t hurt them?”

“Oh no, I’m not promising you anything, dear. Where did that idea come from? You insulted me in front of my men and my prisoners. Every time you open your mouth I debate cutting your tongue off. Why would I make you any promises?”

“Why would I do this if you'll hurt them anyway?” Whumpee snarls, clasping the leather and clenching their jaw.

“Guards, cut the team’s air off,” Whumper commands, eyes still boring into Whumpee’s with disturbing intensity. Drinking in their panic.

“Wait–”

“On second thought, bring me Caretaker first. I want to see this one scream for their family before they are all dead.”

“Whumper, I’ll–”

“Bring the whip along with them. We’ll have some fun.”

“Whumper, please–”

“What are their lives worth to you, Whumpee? Really? What would you do to save them? Because it sounds to me like you wouldn’t so much as put on a muzzle, so please tell me, what would you do for them?”

“I’ll do anything!” Whumpee yells, choking on the images Whumper painted so, so terribly vividly. On guilt. On love. “I’ll do anything, just don’t fucking touch them.”

“Well, then why am I still hearing your voice?” Whumper croons, nodding at their hands. Though Whumpee can see the amusement in their eyes, all they think about is their team’s screams when they were taken from the cell as they raise the muzzle to their face. With their family's voices sounding in their mind, echoing with each beat of their heart, they find that it isn't hard to do it at all.

It’s with Caretaker’s soft murmurs when Whumpee has trouble falling asleep in their ears that they bite on the bit. Leader’s gentle hands guiding Whumpee to the correct position when they were learning how to fight is the memory that guides them as they fasten the muzzle behind their own head. And it is with Healer’s affectioned smile whenever Whumpee asks them to bandage the most meaningless wounds shining in their mind that they hold still when Whumper places a finger under their chin and tilts their chin up.

“Look,” Whumper whispers, shifting to the side so Whumpee can see their reflection in the mirror. So their team can see it too.

Their eyes shine with unshed tears. They had never realized how small they look when they aren’t using their words to make themself bigger. How their wrists look so very thin surrounded by metal. But there’s only so much Whumpee can look at before their eyes fall on the muzzle.

It covers half of their face, stiff leather locking their mouth shut. They look… defeated. Young. They look so terribly young with that thing covering their mouth, only big scared eyes and empty defiance left.

“So much prettier when you’re quiet,” Whumper sighs, letting out a low chuckle. “Why don’t we work on the lack of respect, now?”

When they unsheathe a knife and let the sharp tip shine near Whumpee’s face, they can’t help but pull away with a scared whine. The guards are there in an instant to hold them still as Whumper laughs out loud and presses the blade against Whumpee’s chest, delighting in their muffled screams as it draws a line of blood across their skin.

On the other side of the mirror, though Whumpee can't hear them, their team screams themselves hoarse as they watch Whumpee’s blood run and pool around them. They don’t stop even after Whumpee is left in a bloody, sobbing heap on the floor for them to stare at.

-

Prompts from this list

Whumper Weekly, Chain series: Wrists to neck

Add an iron collar and attach the whumpee’s cuffs to the collar. This is reduces the whumpee‘s movement and use of their hands and arms. This is especially useful if your whumpee has a violent streak and has a tendency to attack their whumper or tries to defend other whumpees. If you have captured a team of would-be heroes, I recommend placing the leader in this type of restraints— this makes the leader helpless and dependent on their team to help them eat and drink, if you decide to feed your captives. The whumpee restrained in this manner also can’t get up if they fall, which is excellent for those who attempt escape often.

Masterlist

Hiss

Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10

Warnings: restraints; kidnapping; pet whump; blood; biting, defiant whumpee

Whumper surveyed their new pet as they knelt on the floor, their arms bound behind their back. Whumper was very pleased. This one was very….pretty. “Welcome, my pet.”

“Pet?” Whumpee tilted their head. “That’s a first.”

Whumper frowned. “Yes, pet. This may come as a–”

“Wait, like pet pet?”

Whumper took a slow breath. New pets always took training. This one was proving to be…difficult. “I am your master now. You will listen to me!”

Whumpee rolled their eyes. “Listening has never really been my thing.”

“Then you will learn,” Whumper sneered. They cast about for their crop. This one was testing their patience. 

“I’m assuming you would much rather a warm cuddly pet. Never had a dog. Mother abhorred all things with fur. The man who raised me, he had cats.” Whumpee continued to ramble on.

“What are you going on about, my pet?” Whumper asked as they snatched their riding crop from the desk.

Whumpee’s eyes grew wide as Whumper brought the crop close to Whumpee’s face. Whumper brought it under their chin, lifting it slightly. “I-I was just saying I don’t have much practice with pets.”

“Well, I can teach you, pet.” Whumper whispered. “You were around cats?”

“Sometimes. Not too often. My sister is allergic. But,” Whumpee’s blue eyes shined brightly as Whumper ran the crop down Whumpee’s body. “But I did have a pet once.”

Whumper cupped Whumpee’s face delicately, crop poised to strike if needed. “Oh? My pet had a pet? And tell me, pretty, what did you have?”

The blue eyes turned icy as Whumpee twisted in Whumper’s grasp. “Snakes.” Whumpee bit down on Whumper’s hand that cupped Whumpee’s face. Whumper howled and attempted to strike Whumpee with the crop, but Whumpee lunged forward, shifting Whumper off balance. 

The two of them fell into a heap on the ground, Whumpee thrashing violently as they continued to bite down on Whumper’s hand. Whumper’s pained shrieks drew the attention of their minions who flooded the room and one of the minions hooked two fingers in Whumpee’s nose forcing Whumpee to release Whumper. 

Whumper jumped up, snatched their crop and slapped Whumpee across the face. “That was a bad pet! How dare you bite your master!” They slapped Whumpee again. 

Icy blue eyes stared up at Whumper, defiant as ever. Whumpee licked the blood off their lips. Whumper’s blood. “Hiss hiss, motherfucker.”

June of doom, day nineteen:

That’s going to be one hell of a scar : cage // pliers // scrape

CW: team Whump, leader whump, threats, carving/ cutting ( explicit), blood (explicit), intimate whumper, scary whumper, evil whumper, creepy whumper, defiant whumpees, multiple whumpees, knife mentioned, torture (explicit and graphic), mention of past injury, fear of darkness?, Self sacrifice

Very long and very late I am sorry, enjoy

*~*~*~*~*

“Leader? Leader!” Medic whispered through the darkness, rousing Leader from their light nap. “Leader?”

“I’m here, Medic,” said Leader, voice reassuring. Leader was sitting with their back against the wall, no, not wall. Leader turned with a groan, their muscles still heavy with sleep and their last fight with Supervillain. Leader’s hand found cool metal bars and that woke them up immediately.

Their last battle with Supervillain… Leader remembers their team sweeping in just in time, just as Supervillain’s fist came down on their temple and darkness swallowed them.

Fuck.

“Supervillain has us?” Leader asked quietly.

“He used you as leverage. Told us to surrender or he’d kill you. I’m sorry Leader.”

“No,” said Leader with a grunt, sitting back against the bars. No wonder they were aching all over. “No don’t be sorry. I would have done the same thing. Where are you?”

Leader squinted against the darkness trying to locate Medic, or anything for that matter. They could barely see their nose in front of their face.

“I’m— I think I’m in a cage,” said Medic. Their voice came from the right. Leader lifted their arm through the bars trying to feel for another cage but felt nothing. They took a sharp breath as the reaching movement aggravated a stabbing pain in their ribs. “Leader?”

“I’m okay,” said Leader through grit teeth. Fuck, Supervillain had gotten a few good hits on Leader. Their upper lip was sticking to their nose from no doubt a trail of blood. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah… we’re all good. Supervillain just took us he didn’t touch us, we were just worried about you…”

“We? Supervillain took all of you?”

A blinding light flashed on and Leader shielded their eyes in the crook of their elbow and heard a couple of familiar moans from the sudden brightness.

“I thought I heard voices,” came the rumbling voice of Supervillain. There was a smile in his voice that set Leader’s nerves on edge. Leader lowered their arm, blinking quickly trying to adjust to the sudden burst of light. Their eyes settled, taking in the room they were in.

Leader was right. They were in a cage. Solid steel bars lined every edge except the bottom which was just a thick metal edge. Leader could fit comfortably sitting down but there was no way Leader could even think about standing in the cage unless they were on their haunches or kneeling. Even then they’d have to bend their torso, there was probably room for Leader’s head again above them and that was it.

Bastard, forcing them to sit like dogs in cages. Leader’s hand clenched into a fist at their side, glaring up at Supervillain as best they could.

Supervillain stood in his stupid grey three piece suit perfectly tailored to his muscular frame. He wore a charcoal grey overcoat and a black scarf over it and had his cane in both his hands, holding it horizontal as his cruel grey eyes focused on Leader in their cage. Face as expressionless as always, impassive, neutral… every part he could control except his grey eyes. His haunting grey eyes that showed exactly what emotion he was feeling. The only part of him that gave Supervillain away.

“Hey let us out of here you psycho!” Youngest yelled, kicking at the bars of their cage. Leader’s eyes went to them. They were the furthest from them on the left. There was a cage between them — where Rogue sat, glaring at Supervillain — then Youngest’s cage after.

Supervillain turned their head to Youngest’s cage and Leader’s heart dropped. “Sprightly little thing aren’t you?”

“How ‘bout you let me out of this cage and I’ll show you how sprightly I can be, hmm?!”

“Youngest,” Medic said, warning in their voice, to shut up or else. Supervillain walked over to Youngest’s cage and crouched down, putting their cane through the bars. Youngest scrambled back, but there wasn’t anywhere to flee to and their back hit the bars with a gentle thud. Leader watched as Supervillain’s cane rested easy on Youngest’s throat.

Youngest swallowed, the cane bobbing with the motion and put a hand up to grab it, but Supervillain batted it away and struck Youngest’s cheek with the cane. Youngest’s cheek whipped to the side with the impact.

“Supervillain!” Leader yelled now at the front bars of the cage, while Medic cried “Get away from them!”

Supervillain didn’t do either. Instead they kept their gaze on Youngest and lowered the cane to Youngest’s throat again, digging into it: “How ‘bout I chain you up and muzzle you for your insolence, hmm? Will that put manners on you?”

“Supervillain,” said Leader, voice hard. “Leave them alone. If you want to hurt somebody, hurt me!”

Supervillain turned their head and their piercing grey eyes found Leader’s. “Hush, Leader. It’s rude to interrupt someone. You’ll get your turn.”

Supervillain turned back to Youngest, and Leader and teammates could only watch helplessly from their stupid tiny cages. Leader’s heart was pounding out of their chest through their ears, as Supervillain used the Cane to force Youngest to look at them. An angry red welt was growing on Youngest’s cheek and they stared at Supervillain with a mixture of fear and hatred.

Supervillain tilted their head. Then asked with their horrible, matter of fact way: “Would you like to be immobilised completely and gagged, Youngest?”

Youngest shook their head side to side. “Use your words,” said Supervillain and Youngest swallowed, then spat out a contemptuous no.

“No what?” Supervillain asked, and Youngest’s entire face scrunched up in disgust. Leader saw their hands ball into fists at their sides. Leader also saw the tremble in their hands before they made them into fists. The fear coursing through their veins masked with their anger.

Supervillain pressed the cane into Youngest’s throat and their hand shot up again but stopped at Supervillain’s soft: “ah-ah-ah. No what, Youngest?”

Humiliation burned red on Youngest’s face as they said: “no, sir.”

Supervillain retracted the cane and stood in one swift movement. “Good. You can learn.”

Supervillain then turned to Leader with his grinning grey eyes. “They have a lot of potential, Leader. You should be proud.”

“Let them go, Supervillain,” Leader said.

“Why would I let them go? I have you all right where I want you. Except for you of course, Leader,” said Supervillain, walking towards Leader’s cage. Leader moved so they were sitting on their arse in the cage, legs stretched out in front of them and back against the bars, craning their neck to keep Supervillain in view. Supervillain stood directly over Leader’s cage looking down at them with a subtle hint of a smirk tugging at the edge of his lips.

Supervillain’s voice dipped, his rumbling deepening as he practically purred: “You I want on display. As a warning and a trophy as to what happens to those who oppose me.”

“In your dreams,” Leader snarled and Supervillain laughed, putting their hands on the top of Leader’s cage. Leader fought the urge to grab Supervillain’s hand and yank them down on the cage just to wipe that smirk off his stupid face.

“Sometimes Leader, if you work hard enough, your dreams can come true. Especially now that I got your little gang here too. You’d do just anything to protect them, wouldn’t you?” Leader’s heart sank at his words, their mouth going dry. That’s why they were here. Because of Leader. Because of Leader’s weakness to them.

“If you touch them—“

“I promise I won’t lay a finger on them,” Supervillain said, “as long as you do as I say.”

“No, Leader!” Rogue hissed from the cage to Leader’s left. “No you can’t let him—“

“You’re not sacrificing yourself for us,” said Medic, tone final. “We’ll get out! We’ll find a way, Leader. We always find a way. He just wants you we’ll be fine!”

“Yeah Leader, I just want you. You gonna make your team suffer in your place?” Supervillain asked with their hideous smiling rumble. Leader stuttered out a breath through their nose, even though it felt like they couldn’t breathe. Supervillain was asking something so impossible of them… and Leader didn’t want to just go along with it as horrible as that sounded.

They didn’t want to be the Leader and sacrifice themselves to Supervillain’s sadistic machinations, but if they didn’t… if they didn’t Supervillain would subject his team to them instead. Their team. Their family.

Leader swallowed hard, eyes focused on Supervillain’s cruel grey ones and nodded, just once. Supervillain’s lips spread into a proper smile now, and they got to undoing the lock on top of Leader’s cage. To the protests from Leader’s team.

“No! Leader no! Supervillain! Hurt me instead, hurt me please!” Medic demanded, pleaded, while Rogue just started kicking at the hinges on their cage and yelled in frustration when they got nowhere. Youngest was dead silent as Supervillain lifted the door of the cage and grabbed Leader under the shoulder and helped them out of the cage.

“Easy. Easy, there you go,” Supervillain praised, letting Leader sit back against the cage, sucking in a sharp breath. Supervillain moved his hand down to Leader’s ribs and Leader shot a hand out, stopping him, breathing heavy and cutting into Supervillain with a glare. Supervillain’s expression remained neutral, yet his eyes were a playful chiding. “I gave you that injury, Leader. Do you really think you can deny me seeing it? Do you really want to risk your teammates getting matching bruises?”

Leader’s glare softened to one of furious shame, as they let go of Supervillain’s hand and allowed him to lift Leader’s shirt up to Leader’s ribs. The cold smile on Supervillain’s face looked wrong. Strange. His hand on Leader’s ribs was surprisingly warm, as he pressed his palm against it and Leader sucked in a breath, clenching their jaw.

“Does that hurt?” Supervillain asked with his rolling rumble like falling stone.

“No. I’m just peachy— ow!” Leader cried as Supervillain dug their fingers into Leader’s ribs. Leader jerked to the side but Supervillain held them firm until Leader was gasping for breath, protesting: “Okay! Okay! It hurts!”

Supervillain removed his hand and dropped Leader’s shirt. “Good,” he said and stepped back. Leader looked at him, then Rogue was shouting in warning as Supervillain’s cane cracked against Leader’s bruised ribs. Leader crumbled to their knees, mouth open in a silent scream as they fell, then gasped again on the ground. They were on one hand and their knees, their other hand cradling their ribs protectively.

“Leader! Leader!” Medic was crying, but Leader just sucked in a sharp breath and raised their head to Supervillain again. Eyes narrowing.

Supervillain let out a loud sigh. “Still so insolent,” he said slowly, and cracked the cane against Leader’s jaw. Leader cried out, struggling to get their balance but it didn’t matter. Supervillain kicked at Leader’s injured ribs again and Leader went down, hitting off the stone floor and curling up protectively around themselves.

Leader opened their eyes to see Rogue reaching out for them between the bars, but they weren’t able to reach Leader. Leader saw a flash of grey fabric before a polished shoe slammed down on Rogue’s hand, driving the heel into it.

“No,” Leader gasped out with a pathetic wheeze. “No…” they said again, getting to their knees and grabbing at Supervillain’s foot. “Me… only… me…”

“Hear that Roguey? Only Leader, so stop trying to help or I’ll just hurt Leader more, yeah?” Supervillain said, lifting their foot from Rogue’s hand and grabbing Leader by the hair. Leader groaned as Supervillain yanked them up to their knees. “Get up, Leader. To your feet, come on now. I have a lesson to teach you all.”

Leader cried out as Supervillain yanked them up by the hair further and got to their shaky feet, holding onto Supervillain for balance. “Good. Very good. Now give me your hands.”

Cold fear washed through Leader’s veins at the command. Not their hands, they wanted to say. Anything but their hands. A punch to their ribs and Leader almost doubled over, but Supervillain used the pain as a diversion and cuffed Leader’s hands together in front of them. The cold metal snapped closed over Leader’s wrists, tightened to the point that Leader wondered if they would cut off their blood flow.

A strong hand under Leader’s chin directed their head up to look into those vindictive grey eyes. “Can you stand on your own?”

“Maybe if my ribs weren’t aching right now,” Leader grumbled, channeling all their pain, all their hatred into their glare they shot into the fathomless steel grey sea. Supervillain let Leader go, but Leader was ready this time. Both feet planted on the ground, knees bent, hands kept low in front of them.

The side of Supervillain’s lips quipped at Leader, as if they were impressed, but Leader could also very well be drunk on pain right now so they weren’t sure if what their eyes showed them were real.

Supervillain took off his black scarf first, then his overcoat and hung them on a hook that was nailed into the door. Next came the suit jacket and he stopped there, hanging that up too. He uncuffed the cuff links from his dress shirt and began rolling up his sleeves.

“Thought you were going to treat us to a striptease,” said Leader, forcing their usual devil-may-care smile onto their face. Supervillain flashed a smile too and then Leader’s head was thrown back, fresh blood dripping down their nose as Supervillain grabbed their hair to bring them up again.

“See, Leader, it’s not your fault per se, but with you being the Captain of your little team, your cute lil quips have spread like a wildfire throughout your ranks. Which means not only do I want to torture you to the point where you can’t even think about any witty comments, but I also want to wring it out of your teammates too.”

Leader’s hands shot up at the mention of their teammates and Supervillain smiled a handsome smile, as if he was happy to have touched a nerve.

“So you think I’m witty?” was all Leader said and Medic let out a tired: “shut up leader.”

“See?” Supervillain said, hand tightening in Leader’s hair. “Even they know when to stop.”

Leader just grinned exposing their bloody teeth. They had gone full feral, anything to piss Supervillain off. Anything to keep him off of their teammates. Just bait him. Bait him. Bait all his anger. All his frustration. Don’t even let him think about touching their team.

“Are you going to put me in my place or is you talking the torture?” Leader asked, tired. Supervillain could still that spark of defiance in Leader’s face and he let his mask of indifference shutter down over his own face.

Supervillain turned Leader and began dragging them towards the darkness behind the cages. Leader dragged their feet, their boots scraping along the ground as they were pulled against their will into the deep dark. Fear clasped their heart in a vice as they went stumbling after Supervillain’s long strides.

Lights flickered on around them and Leader could feel all the blood drain from their face. It looked like a fucked up medical room, with tools and utensils on the walls perfectly hung and cabinets full of god knows what.

And in the middle of the room was a metal table. Leader started struggling more now and Supervillain grinned as he felt the pull become more desperate. Supervillain turned to face Leader and revelled in the panic winding through their features. Supervillain yanked Leader forward and shoved them back onto the table. Leader fought them, trying to push Supervillain away but even on a good day they knew they wouldn’t be able to.

Supervillain wrestled Leader down, yanking their cuffed wrists above their head and hooking them to the end of the table. Leader yanked them down with all their might but they wouldn’t come loose. Supervillain watched Leader struggle until they stopped, lazy grey eyes going to Leader’s, raising his eyebrows, he asked: “no witty remarks?”

“Do your worst,” is what Leader said and Supervillain grinned.

“Oh I intend to,” said Supervillain stepping away from the table and walking over to one of the walls, grabbing a pliers from it and walking back over. Leader felt adrenaline pump through their veins a little too late if you asked Leader, but they tugged on the cuffs all the same just for something to do. Somewhere to put their fear.

Supervillain left the pliers on the metal table then walked back to the cages. The panic seized Leader’s throat as they leaned up, straining against the ache in their ribs, against the strain on their arms and cried out: “Supervillain! Don’t touch them! Just me, remember?!”

The clang of the handcuffs off the metal table was ricocheting through Leader’s ears like a storm of bullets from their struggling but they didn’t care. They saw Supervillain bend and pick up something from the floor and turn to walk back to Leader.

Leader calmed down a bit after seeing it was Supervillain’a cane. “Don’t worry Leader. I only have eyes for you. This just requires a more personal touch,” said Supervillain with his rolling voice, a hint of humour rounding his words. When Supervillain stopped beside the metal table Leader was chained to, he clicked a button on the handle and the hidden blade shinked out of the end of the cane.

The dagger had been a nasty surprise when Leader first felt it slice across his cheek. Supervillain had kept it a secret until Leader finally had the advantage over him in a fight, and then that shink changed the entire pace of the fight. That just seemed to be the general theme of Supervillain and Leader’s relationship.

Supervillain always seemed to have the upper hand.

Supervillain twisted the bottom of the cane and it came loose, the black metal of the cane becoming the hilt of the blade at the bottom. Leader tugged at the handcuffs again. They felt too exposed. Too readily waiting like a lamb for slaughter, they needed to do something.

“Nerves getting the better of you?” Supervillain asked, voice quiet as he placed the cane on a table to the side. “I can always drag Medic over here instead if you prefer.”

“You wouldn’t live to see tomorrow if you did,” Leader hissed and Supervillain smiled down at them.

“Just making sure. Now, to business,” said Supervillain. They grabbed Leader’s shirt and cut it loose with the blade. The cool metal scraped against Leader’s abdomen and chest causing a shiver to run down their spine. Supervillain turned back to face the cages and said louder so everyone could hear: “is everyone paying attention? Good. This is what happens you just don’t know when to stop and piss me off. Pay attention Youngest.”

The harsh tug of metal and Supervillain smiled to himself, turning back to Leader. All helpless and angry below him. Supervillain nearly sighed and stopped his work to just bask in how long it took him to finally get Leader here. Right where he wanted them, to finally hear them scream and not be able to fight back whatsoever.

Not with their hands.

Not with their words.

He wanted them broken, and hollow, to be moulded into something more after Supervillain was finished with them. The potential just sat idle under their skin and Supervillain would be the man to bring it out into the sunlight. That untapped nugget of something extraordinary.

Supervillain walked around the other side of the table, dagger in hand, then hummed, walking to the other side again. Mouth screwing up in concentration. Then, mind made up he sighed and climbed onto the table, straddling Leader’s waist with a knee on either side.

“At least buy me dinner fir— uhst,” Leader gasped as Supervillain pressed their ribs with his fingers.

“I need you to hold still for me now Leader, and tell me when it hurts.”

Supervillain wished he could have photographed the beautiful confusion on Leader’s face before he leaned over them, pinning their shoulder to table and started carving the first initial of Supervillain’s name just below Leader’s right shoulder.

Leader screamed as Supervillain dragged the blade through skin as if it was as easy as paper, thrashing in their restraints and screaming. Trying to loosen the handcuffs from the hook or jab a knee into Supervillain’s side, crotch, leg — anything. Anything to stop the pain that burned through Leader’s shoulder.

“Hold still. Almost there,” said Supervillain and placed a steadying hand on Leader’s bruised ribs to keep them down. Leader opened their mouth in a silent scream, trying to alleviate the pressure by sucking in their stomach and pushing it out. Twisting, writhing, turning— nothing could make them feel better.

Supervillain leaned back and smiled down at Leader. Leader was just happy they had finally stopped, but it didn’t stop the stinging pain from the deep cuts that were still bubbling warm blood down Leader’s torso and onto the table. To Leader’s horror, Supervillain reached back and picked up the pliers they had left on the edge of the table.

Supervillain brought them down to Leader’s fresh cuts and Leader shook their head, tears streaming down their face. “Supervillain— don’t- don’t!”

“Sssh,” Supervillain cooed, pressing a bloody finger to Leader’s lips. “Relax. I just need to make sure it’ll last.”

That sentence did anything but reassure Leader and before Leader could tell Supervillain that they would rate him poorly on yelp, the pliers was in his skin. The metal bites opening Leader’s flesh, ripping them further apart. Leader screamed from their gut, like a banshee, except worse because they knew merciful death wasn’t coming after the torture. It was just more torture.

Leader was in and out of consciousness by the time Supervillain was done, blinking hazily up at the monster above them. “Good. Done. You did so good. That’s—“ supervillain said with a laugh. “That’s gonna leave one hell of a scar, Leader. You’ll die with that one.”

“Go fuck yourself,” Leader croaked, voice hoarse from screaming. Supervillain tutted them.

“Leader. Leader. Leader. Where’s your usual banter, hmm? No funny input? I didn’t expect you to break so soon.”

Leader couldn’t even tug at their restraints in protest anymore. Their body was exhausted from healing and the adrenaline leaving their system. Supervillain lifted the bloody pliers so Leader could see it and sighed.

“You know the pliers was fun, but I think a clamp would be much more effective at ensuring scarring, wouldn’t you Medic?”

Leader barely heard Medic’s desperate reply. “Please… Supervillain. Please, let me look at them. I can heal them, make sure—“

“Enough. I don’t want them healed. I want them suffering. Although I do enjoy this whole family trauma thing, it does spice up the torture a bit.”

Supervillain was off Leader them and Leader nearly passed out with relief. Until their eyes followed Supervillain to the wall again and they pulled out a medical clamp, and the breath was taken from them.

Supervillain wasn’t done with Leader… they weren’t finished yet.

Sure enough Supervillain climbed back on top of Leader in the same position as before with their blood slicked knife in hand and a clamp in the other.

“You… you’re… I thought—“

“You thought we were done?” Supervillain asked and then laughed. A humourless, evil sound. “No. No. That was just the initial of my first name, Leader. How else will people know I tamed you if I don’t write my last name too?”

Distantly Leader could hear Rogue and Youngest shouting, protesting, calling Supervillain ever name under the sun and screaming. Pleading.

It all melded together in the static in Leader’s brain.

“In all honesty, Leader, you should be thanking whatever God is looking down at you that I don’t have a double barrel last name or we’d run out of body parts.”

Supervillain leaned over and pinned Leader’s left shoulder before getting to carving again. Leader screamed and cried and screamed some more and eventually, mercifully, they passed out on the table.

It is clear to this anon that you like collar whump. Thus I humbly ask for it to happen to any of your characters, no preference who, I just wanna see it.

BLESS YOU ANON

I decided to use my Bad Caretaker series OCs :>

—

“Hey, Tobias, can I see you for a minute?”

Tobias stiffened at Isaac’s voice, glancing nervously up to where he’d poked his head into the room. He looked almost unconsciously towards Michael and Jacob, who were quietly discussing strategy over a game of chess. Michael made brief eye contact, a curious look in his eyes, but he turned back to the game.

“Sure,” Tobias said, trying to keep his voice from shaking. It still did, though, a little.

Tobias’ heart rattled in his chest as he followed Isaac back to the room. Isaac wasn’t looking at him, which meant he couldn’t gage whether he was angry or happy. Or excited. That was worse.

Isaac held the door open for him, hand brushing his back in a way that made Tobias flinch. When the door closed behind him, Tobias turned around to see Isaac smiling. His heart fell to the floorboards.

“You’re so cute when you’re panicking,” Isaac grinned, eyes flicking over Tobias’ trembling form.

Tobias ground his teeth. “Don’t call me that.”

Isaac stepped closer, watching the way he stiffened, eyes falling to the floor and turning distant. “How do you expect me to help myself, when you look like that, love?”

His breath hitched. “Stop.”

Isaac caught Tobias’ chin in his hand, tilting it up to see his face. “You know, I really don’t think I will.” He let go of him and stepped back. “On your knees, Toby. I have a surprise for you.”

With a shaky breath, the boy lowered himself to the floor, watching Isaac with big, scared eyes. “Isaac--”

He shushed him, turning to grab a bag from a drawer. Tobias watched it carefully, and Isaac rattled the bag with a teasing grin when he noticed. “What do you think it is, Toby?”

Tobias just shook his head in mute fear.

Isaac walked towards him again, running a hand through Tobias’ hair and forcing his head back before crouching down to be level with him. He set down the bag and placed his other hand over the boy's throat, just tight enough to make him feel claustrophobic.

“Your pulse is racing.” His lips curved into a devilish smile. “Take some deep breaths for me, Toby. I wouldn’t want you having a panic attack.” Isaac waited a moment while Tobias obeyed, then slowly, slowly squeezed his hand tighter.

Tobias jerked against him, but Isaac used the hand in his hair to press him back against the wall, climbing over his legs to straddle him when he tried to buck him off. Tobias’ mouth hung open in a desperate need for air, and it just made Isaac cinch his hand tighter at the sight.

“Relax. I’m not going to let you pass out,” Isaac murmured, holding his hands there for a slow count of three more seconds before finally releasing him.

Tobias choked on air, coughing and slumping forward into Isaac's chest as he tried to take in enough air to make the world stop spinning. Isaac wrapped his arms around his shaking shoulders, weaving fingers loosely through his hair. Tobias struggled weakly, trying to push away.

Isaac relented, pressing him against the wall while he reached for the bag. “You’ll have to wear a turtleneck for a few days. That’s going to bruise.”

Tobias’ throat bobbed as he swallowed.

“Do you want your surprise now, Toby?” Isaac grinned, not waiting for a response as he pulled out a leather collar with a neat buckle in the front.

Tobias jerked away in horror. “No.”

Isaac just leaned closer, emphasizing how trapped Tobias truly was. “You know I don’t like that answer, Toby. Now be good and let me put this on you.”

Tobias stared at him with glassy eyes before lowering his hands to his lap, clenched into fists. Isaac muttered “good boy” and slid it around his neck, buckling it tightly in the front so it was flush with his skin, restricting every breath ever so slightly.

“I knew you’d look good like this.” Isaac took the boy’s face in his hands and turned it gently from side to side, admiring the placement of the collar. “You’re perfect, little Toby.”

His lip trembled. “I don’t want to be,” he breathed, just barely loud enough to hear.

Isaac laughed, cinching a finger underneath the collar and watching as he struggled to breathe. “I think we both know that what you want doesn’t matter anymore.”

Climbing off of him, Isaac retrieved a leash from the bag and waggled it menacingly, drinking it Tobias’ reaction. The poor boy was pressed as close to the wall as he could make himself, shoulders heaving as he tried to breathe through the panic. His eyes were wide and glassy, horrified.

“Isaac, don’t—”

Isaac took a step towards him, feeling a thrill of pleasure when that was enough to make Tobias fall silent, helpless tears gathering in his eyes. Isaac clipped the leash onto the collar’s ring. He tugged against it, pulling the leather taut and forcing Tobias to fall to his hand and knees.

“Look at you, Toby. A perfect little pet for me.” Isaac held the leash tightly so Tobias had no chance to pull away.

“I’m not,” he said through gritted teeth, but Isaac ignored him, kneeling down to grab his jaw.

“Do you know how much I wish I could just keep you like this? If I had it my way, I’d never let you out. You’d be chained and collared at my side, crying those pretty tears for me forever. Wouldn’t you like that?”

Tobias sobbed into Isaac’s hand, and Isaac sighed happily. “I want you to see yourself, like this. How much you were meant for this.”

Standing up, Isaac pulled him forward, dragging him across the floor to a full-length mirror that was propped against the wall. He grabbed a handful of Tobias’ hair, wrenching his head up to face himself in the mirror. Isaac crouched next to him, pressing his face into the boy’s hair.

“See how good you look like this?” He muttered, feeling how Tobias quailed against him. The boy’s eyes were fixed on the mirror, tears rolling down his cheeks. He seemed frozen, unable to look away. “Can you really blame me for doing this? This is what you were made for, Toby.”

He sobbed, eyes falling closed as more tears soaked his face.

“Let’s see how a week of wearing that collar breaks you down,” Isaac said, running a hand over the smooth leather pulled tight around the boy’s neck. “And remember, no one else can see you like this. You’re mine.”

—

Bad Caretaker series taglist (lmk if you want to be added or removed): @ros-is-writing @sunflower1000 @temporary-whump-sideblog @hurting-fictional-people @madrono-but-i-am-not-a-fruit @cupcakes-and-pain @sideblogformindtrash @starnight-whump @trans-writes @freefallingup13 @chartreusephoenix @multifandoms-multishipper @firewheeesky @lave-whump @misspelledwitch @tropes-for-my-md-daydreams @journey-the-panda @shameful-indulgence @briars7 @sometouchofmadness @stab-the-son-of-a

16th hour — #2 Marked

Masterlist/ Previous

CW: themes of captivity, violence, sexual assault(not detailed) , and dehumanization.

Samuel's consciousness flickered like a sputtering candle as he awoke in the dim, grim confines of the transport truck. His limbs felt leaden, the remnants of the sedative dulling his senses. The air was thick with a pungent mix of sweat and despair.

He wasn't alone. As his vision cleared, he saw others huddled in the cramped space, their faces reflecting the same horror and helplessness that he felt.

A stifled sob drew Samuel's attention to a girl about his age, her shoulders shaking with each breath. Her eyes were red and swollen, tears carving tracks down her grimy freckled cheeks. Across from her, a boy thrashed against his cuffs, his voice a raw scream of defiance and fury.

"Fuck this! Let me out, you bastards! You can't do this to us! We're people, not animals!" His words bounced off the metal walls, unanswered.

"You fucking bastards! Let me out! Let me out!" His shoulders pounded against the walls of the truck, the sound echoing in the confined space. "I'll kill you! I'll fucking kill you all!"

In the opposite corner, another boy had a girl pinned against the side of the truck, his intentions horrifyingly clear. Her terrified whimpers and pleas for mercy filled the air. He wanted to move, to stop the atrocity, but his limbs felt like lead, the sedative still dulling his reflexes.

"N-No, please... don't..." she begged, her voice breaking.

The boy's eyes were wild, filled with a mix of panic and desire. "Shut up! We're nothing now anyways. Might as well enjoy myself for the last time."

Samuel's stomach churned with a mix of fear and revulsion. He forced himself to move, his voice a raspy whisper. "Don't."

The boy turned his head towards Samuel, his eyes narrowing in anger. "Stay out of this pretty boy."

The girl looked desperately at Samuel, tears going down her eyes. Desperation fueled his movements. He stumbled forward, his body protesting every step. He threw himself at the big-bodied boy, their bodies colliding in a tangle of limbs. They hit the floor hard, the impact jarring Samuel's already aching side.

The boy looked like he was about to punch Samuel if only his hands weren't cuffed behind him. The attacker snarled, his hands closing around Samuel's throat. "You should have stayed out of it, hero." His grip tightened, cutting off Samuel's air. Spots danced in his vision as he struggled, his hands clawing at the man's wrists.

Just when the other boy could take any other action, the truck lurched to a stop, throwing everyone off balance.

The doors swung open, blinding light flooding the space. Uniformed men began pulling the captives out one by one, their expressions devoid of compassion. The girl that was about to almost get raped by the boy mouthed a thank you though it seemed broken.

The outside world was a stark contrast to the darkness of the truck. They were in a large, enclosed compound, the high fences topped with barbed wire. The air was thick with the cries and shouts of other captives, a symphony of suffering.

He was lined up with the others, their fates hanging by a fragile thread. The compound was a cacophony of fear and confusion. Captives of all ages and backgrounds milled about, their expressions a mix of shock, anger, and hopelessness. The sobs of "I don't deserve to be here." and lifeless voices of "Why am I here...?"had filled the room.

A stern-looking man in a uniform walked down the line, his cold eyes assessing each captive with dispassionate precision. He was flanked by guards, their expressions as hard and unforgiving as the concrete beneath their feet.

"Why are you doing this to us?!!" A guy demanded, her voice shaking from anger and fear. "YOU CAN'T DO THIS TO US!!"

Somehow seeing this rose up the voices of other people, as they tried pushing and breaking the cuffs behind them. The middle-aged man simply hummed, before swishing his hand to a guard.

The uniformed man smiled looking over at the clipboard in his hand, but the smile was a cruel, empty expression. "You're 'L,'" he said, his tone filled with proffesionality.

Before he could respond, a guard stepped forward, a branding iron in his hand, its tip glowing red-hot. The boy screamed as the iron seared his flesh, the stench of burning skin filling the air. His cries echoed through the compound, a harrowing reminder of their new reality. The guy buckled to his knees with small sobs, unable to hold his weight any longer as some officers dragged him away. The branding had left a cruel "L" on his shoulder, marking him less than human.

The other captives recoiled in horror, the entire place filling with uncomfortable silence. Some were weeping openly, others staring in stunned silence. Samuel's heart pounded in his chest, his breath coming in short, panicked gasps. He knew his turn was coming, and the thought of that searing pain made his stomach churn with dread.

After a few torturing hours, his legs were basically throbbing with pain from standing for too long. The line had been going on, with the man marking with certain people as "L", "B" or "S", which was followed with agonizing screaming and crying that managed to send a flinch down Samuel's spine every time. He tried thinking about what they could've meant but every time he was interrupted by either shouting or the cracking of a taser when people became too violent.

"Step forward," the guard commanded, his eyes locking onto Samuel.

Samuel's legs felt like they were filled with lead, but he forced himself to move. He stumbled forward, his entire body trembling. The guard with the branding iron stepped up, the heat radiating from the iron making Samuel's skin prickle. The stout man looked at Samuel, and was just about to say something before Samuel cut him off.

"Can I ask something?" He blubbered out before he mentally slapped himself for thinking without speaking. The man only raised his eyebrow in question and signed his hand in a way as if to say 'go on.'

"I-Its just.. I-I thought the ones who were classified as livestock w-were the ones who were from lower class.." Samuel couldn't help but think how egoistic he must've sounded but right now that was the least of his worries.

"Samuel. Samuel Dawson. Son of Edward Dawson and Juli Wood. Mother passed away on your birth so your Father married Camila Fletcher. Your mother was classified as livestock." Samuel basically froze, his mind struggling to process what the man just said. He had been livestock by birth..?

The man simply smiled at Samuel, continuing with his now torturing claims. "Spotted many a time taking pity on livestock. Having arguments about livestock having rights. Secret letters to the government as well to consider dropping down the livestock system. My, my Mr. Dawson. And you ask why you're livestock."

The man laughed, though Samuel didn't think it was funny. "We cannot have anyone disrupting our system. It is the way it is and it will be as so in the future as well."

Before he could react, the man nodded and the guard pressed the branding iron against Samuel's shoulder. The pain was instantaneous and excruciating, a fiery agony that made him scream until his voice was raw. His vision blurred with tears, the world narrowing to the searing torment and the smell of his own burning flesh.

When the iron was pulled away, Samuel collapsed to his knees, gasping for breath. He was dimly aware of the others being branded, their screams mingling with his own. The agony in his shoulder was overwhelming, a constant, burning reminder of his new status. He looked at his shoulder, and the disgusting sight of broken flesh and blood among a red covered "L" made him want to puke.

Just when he thought it was over, the man in the uniform frowned, looking at the mark on Samuel's shoulder. He gestured to another guard, who approached with a different branding iron, this one marked with an "S".

"No no nononno!!" Samuel tried backing away. What the fuck was going on?! He already got branded! Fuck he can't do this again!!

"There's been a mistake," the man said, his voice devoid of any hint of apology or compassion. "You're not an 'L.' You're a 'S'."

Samuel barely had time to comprehend the words before the second branding iron was heated. Unlike the first guard, this one moved more methodically, examining Samuel's shoulder for a spot not marred by the initial brand.

Before Samuel could react, the second branding iron pressed against a fresh part of his shoulder, the tip glowing with the same cruel heat. The second iron seared into his flesh with a new level of agony, the pain even more unbearable as the two brands burned into his skin. He screamed again, the sound raw and primal, tears streaming down his face as he felt his consciousness waver.

Samuel's vision swam with spots, the pain overwhelming his senses. When the iron was finally removed, he collapsed completely, his body unable to take any more. His mind drifted in and out of consciousness, snippets of conversation filtering through the haze of pain.

"Get him to the holding for 'S' class." He heard someone say, but he couldn't see who it was. The words were getting more distant or was it the people who were? There was a strange ringing in his ears and he could feel something cold dripping down his arm. He tried to lift his head, to see who was speaking, but his body felt heavy and unresponsive.

The coldness spread through his veins, numbing the agony, but leaving him disoriented and weak.

Samuel's breath came in shallow gasps, his chest rising and falling with effort. His eyelids grew heavy, the world tilting dangerously around him. The voices of the guards and the other captives melted into a distant murmur, fading into the background like an elusive dream.

And then, with a final, desperate attempt to stay conscious, Samuel succumbed to the overwhelming exhaustion and pain. His body slumped forward, darkness swallowing him whole.

He had always been scared of the dark but this time he felt comfort in it. As if it was keeping it away from the troubles that seemed to keep mounting up on him.

Taglist: @anutz1234 @ash-reh @whumped-by-glitter @catnykit @morning-star-whump

@paperprinxe @octopus-reactivated @whumpdemonium @watermelons-dont-grow-on-trees @noeul-whumpppss

@nuriiz134 @fox-fox234 @carosbee @writingphoenix @carolinethedragon

@birch-pictures@fable-bug-real @possumhoe @evagran @somebody327

@someoneoninternettt @classyanchorlove @kiratheperson @boahamcock @pyromaiow

@imarandomgamer @edward-mybeloved @skribl @aleki-lives-here @roskarovio

@pentagramstars @ossknsma @abbyreader23 @cluelesscameraman @alphabet-egg

@whumpifi @cheesemctoastnuggets @deputydeputyp @thelazywitchphotographer @isntthisblank

@demetercabingreen-thumb @noeul-whumpppssssss1234(let me know if you want to be added or removed <3)

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