MadMarsii

𝗣𝗮𝗿𝘁𝘆 𝗔𝗻𝗶𝗺𝗮𝗹

Hero had grieved long enough. Determined to reclaim her life, she accepts an invitation to a friend’s party—but she isn’t prepared for the night’s main attraction: the man who took everything from her. Bloodied. And wearing a leash.

Contains: villain whumpee, hero whumpers, used as a party entertainment, nsfw

(𝗗𝗼𝗻'𝘁) 𝗹𝗲𝗮𝘃𝗲 & 𝗛𝗼𝗹𝗱 𝗺𝗲 𝘁𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁

When Hero finally arrives home from work, they find Villain in their living room. But their enemy is not there to fight.

Contains: your daily dose of cuteness, hero x villain, overworked hero

𝗧𝗵𝗲 𝘀𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗶𝗲𝘀𝘁 𝘄𝗲𝗮𝗽𝗼𝗻

Cornered and running out of options, one of the heroes makes a tough decision: he buys a living weapon.

Contains: living weapon, hero caretaker

𝗠𝗮𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝗼𝗳 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗱𝗮𝗿𝗸

The servant had been reluctant to take the job. The villa was remote, the advertisement vague, and the employer suspiciously eager to hire. But the salary... For that kind of money, the risk seemed worth it.

Contains: Vampire who likes to play games with his employees (he hunts them for fun. And for blood.)

𝗦𝗼𝗿𝗿𝘆 𝗜 𝗹𝗶𝗲𝗱

Hero with PTSD is back on the job. It doesn't go well.

Contains: betrayal

𝗦𝗶𝗱𝗲 𝗘𝗳𝗳𝗲𝗰𝘁𝘀

There’s a reason why power boosters are forbidden.

Contains: death, regret, self-cuffing

𝗪𝗼𝗹𝗳 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗹𝗶𝘁𝘁𝗹𝗲 𝗴𝗼𝗮𝘁

When Whumpee doesn't listen and has to face the consequences.

I am shocked by how many whump tropes you managed to smash into a single chapter. there were so many of my favorites represented in it!

Ooooooh, I am so happy you enjoyed it!!! Comments like these make me so excited, thank youuu!

Speaking of favorite whump tropes... I have a question for all of my

LOVELY PARTY ANIMAL READERS

I wanted to play a little game with you. What are your favorite torture/punishment methods??? What would you like to see? What has always intrigued you, but is not explored very often?

Anything is welcome, from good old whipping to waterboarding to whatever twisted little methods your pretty brains dream about!

Send them all my way please!

(I have no idea how many people respond, but maybe, we could do a poll? If you'd like).

Anyone can send as many ideas as they wish! I'll be (excitedly) waiting in my ask box, comments, messages or tags!!!

Please let me know!

I wrote this. Hated it. Deleted it. And wrote it again. This is the (hopefully better) result.

This work is inspired by this series by @jumpywhumpywriter.

CW: party, public torture, restraints, blood, burn marks, multiple whumpers

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The new gown was perfect.

Hero turned in the mirror.

They layers of black tulle were soft and curled around her body like smoke. She watched all the tiny crystal shimmer across the fabric like long-forgotten stars, finding their way through the darkness.

It was hard to resist the image of Villain slowly undoing the lace.

Stop.

She tried to bury the thought deep in her brain.

Hero wished her twisted mind would finally swear off this insanity, but after the bath, it only changed shape. Morphed into something much more ridiculous: napes kissed with soft lips. Heated bodies pressed into each other.

He is a murderer.

A murderer!

She let out a slow breath and set off. There was a party she had to attend.

Hero was early. One of the first, actually.

She walked under her Agency’s banner decorated with dark-red flowers, and into the grand hall. There weren’t many people yet. She caught a glimpse of Superhero and Olli—the two lounged in elegant armchairs beside the dance floor, engrossed in a lively conversation—and few others, faces she recognized from conferences and previous parties.

But all she could see was Villain.

He was in the middle of the ballroom, illuminated by the soft golden glow of chandeliers. Secured in a heavy structure that resembled a doorframe. There were no door, though, only metal shackles hanging from all four corners. They held Villain suspended, his arms and legs spread wide, putting him on display for everyone present.

The promised entertainment of the night.

Hero felt a pang of jealousy.

He was hers, and no one else was allowed to see him like this. No one.

She approached him.

His head hung low, chest raising with slow breaths, and the muscles in his arms taut from the strain of his binds.

“Villain,” she spoke and he lifted his eyes, sunken and painted with bruises.

An almost-sneer crept over his face. He looked too exhausted to muster anything more. “Did you come to play, too?”

Hero let her eyes roam over his body. Bright red circles had been painted onto his skin, forming neat rings around his nipples and belly button. Around his groin.

God… What did they want to do?

As if reading her thoughts, Villain looked to where Superhero was sitting. “They said we’ll play darts.” His voice was hoarse. “Oleander thought that having smaller targets would be more fun.”

God.

Hero made her way to one of the tables. She grabbed a tablecloth and brought it back, then wrapped the white fabric around Villain's hips and tied it between his legs.

Villain stared at her. “Thank you. I didn’t expect— Thank you.”

“You belong to me,” she reminded him, but her heart hammered, as rapid as a hummingbird’s wings. “I can’t have other people looking at you.” It might have been a threat, if not for the softness in her voice.

Villain stared at her and she stared back.

A murderer, voice in her head whispered, and she knew. Of course, she knew. She just couldn’t find the will to care. Not when he looked at her like that, with this kind of… fondness.

She turned on her heel before temptation got the better of her, before she undid Villain’s binds just to see what would happen then.

Her gaze landed on Olli instead, as she charged toward them.

The other hero rose to their feet. Their eyes flicked over her before dropping away.

“I’m sorry,” they said before she could speak. “I saw you covering him.” Their glance shifted to Villain. “Thank you. I know I did overstep.”

Superhero laughed. “I told you no one is interested in dangling dicks.” They grinned at Hero and waved with both hands. “You look sooo pretty, Bunny!”

Oleander couldn’t help a small smile. “You do look breathtaking.” Their gaze lingered on her, remorse softening their features once more. “Will you forgive me? Please?

Hero had expected their usual smugness, their careless nonchalance they wore oh so effortlessly. But the sincerity in their eyes was hard to miss.

She exhaled.

“I have no right to him, really,” she admitted. It was the truth. But it pained her nonetheless. “He’s hurt both of us.”

Olli smiled again, their familiar playfulness slipping back into place. “Well. I’ve been meaning to ask..." They held out a hand to her. “Will you dance with me?”

Hero did.

She didn’t know where she found the courage nor when she became so comfortable with Olli’s hand wrapped around her hip, but it was so freeing to finally forget. To just dance and have fun.

When they finally stopped, pink cheeks and tall glasses of champagne in hand, Hero couldn’t help herself and finally looked at Villain. She did quite a good job of ignoring him when they spun around the dance floor, but now, her eyes kept drifting toward his hunched form.

He looked like a man half-dead.

His chest barely lifted and darts stuck from his body in all angles, leaving red traces of blood all over his skin.

“Go check on him.” She felt Olli’s breath brush her ear and shot them an uncertain look. She couldn’t have them thinking that she cared.

Because she didn’t.

Not one bit.

“Don’t worry,” they gave her a reassuring smile. “I’m not the jealous type.”

Her chest tightened.

Hero felt that going after Villain would be confessing to her deepest, most twisted truth.

She took a deep breath.

Downed her drink.

… and did it anyway.

She squeezed between the guests, forcing her pace to remain measured, as she stalked closer to the construction.

This time, Villain didn’t look at her.

He remained slumped in his restrains, dark hair covering his face. The strands were matted together with something that reminded her of fluffy cream cheese, and he smelled of red wine and blood.

She took hold of his jaw and carefully lifted his head.

Someone had fastened a bow tie around his neck and Hero couldn’t help herself and sneer at the irony. There were new bruises forming along his throat. She wondered whose fingers stole his air and painted his skin in red. Who took the candle and added ugly, bulging blisters to the collection on his torso and thighs.

Villain’s eyes fluttered open.

“Please,” he rasped. Hero had to strain her ears to hear him. “Help me.”

She felt a pang in her chest. Still holding his face, she slowly inspected the lock fastened around his wrist.

“Yes, Bunny,” Superhero giggled, and Hero flinched. “Save the man that killed your mother.”

She hadn't realized Superhero was standing beside her. Their voice was cheerful, as always, yet she still couldn't shake the feeling that she had done something unforgivable.

But her friend only gave her a wide grin and unlocked his cuffs.

Villain crumpled to the ground.

He was too weak to remove the darts still sticking from his meat. He looked like a piñata, used and broken, discarded by the guests who had already lost interested in him as they danced around. Blind to his suffering.

Superhero nudged him with their foot.

“Come on, pet. Don’t you see that Bunny came to play?”

Villain was in a horrible shape. Hero watched him struggle to focus. His gaze darted aimlessly from one point to another, dazed and confused. He couldn't seem to hold on to a single thought.

“I can’t take it,” he muttered. “I can’t, I can’t.”

Superhero kicked him again, stronger this time. “Focus, pet. What is your purpose?”

“To entertain. But I can’t. I can’t.”

“I don’t know, Super,” Hero spoke slowly, as if saying this out loud would make her a criminal, too. “When is it enough?”

“Whenever you say, Bunny,” their voice was so gentle. “This is all for you.”

For me.

Hero thought she was going to be sick.

All for me.

Her stomach twisted, and the room spun around her. “I... can I take him aside?”

“Of course.”

She grabbed Villain by the hair and dragged him through the crowd of dancers toward the corner of the room. Ignoring his whimpering protests, she didn't stop until they reached an empty chair.

There, she finally let him go.

Villain sagged to the ground. His hands shook as they struggled to support his weight. “I can’t please I can’t I can’t—”

“Shh,” Hero cupped his head again. “You’re doing so good. Taking it so well. You’re such a good boy.”

That seemed to restore some of his strength. His eyes finally met hers for a fleeting moment, and he straightened ever so slightly.

Hero let go of his face.

Villain glanced down at his battered body, staring at it for one second, two, three, and carefully wrapped his fingers around one of the darts.

Hero went rigid.

In an instant, she imagined him burying it in her eye.

But Villain made no move against her. One by one, he pulled the darts free. When he was finished, he held them out to her.

“Here. You can play. But I don’t know how much more I can take.”

“Oh.”

Hero took the darts and set them on the table. She sank down into the chair and pulled Villain closer, placing his head in her lap. With careful movements, her fingers threaded through his hair, lightly twirling a few strands.

Villain closed his eyes. “I’ve seen you on the dance floor.” His voice was incredibly weak. “You danced with Oleander.”

Hero hummed.

“Are you two friends?”

She slowly massaged his scalp. “I suppose we are.”

This time, Villain was the one to hum.

Silence settled between them.

They remained that way for a while, until Villain opened his eyes and turned toward Hero. Unlike usual, his gaze didn't immediately skitter away.

“I wanted to tell you something...” he said, sounding almost drunk. “You look really pretty today.”

Hero froze.

He couldn't possibly mean that.

She was his captor.

His… tormentor.

And he was the worst of villains. Sharp. Observant. Dangerous in more ways than she could count, so he had to know. He had to notice her weakness for him.

And this was his way to toy with her.

Before Hero could say anything, Villain closed his eyes again. His head tipped to the side, the last of the tension draining from his body. A second later, his weight sagged heavily into her lap.

“Hey, Villain.” She gave him a gentle shake. He didn't react.

A knot tightened in her stomach.

“Villain?”

She tapped his cheek. When that got no response either, she slapped it lightly.

Nothing.

Her eyes shot to Oleander, and they didn’t wait and ran toward her. “What happened?” they glanced down at Villain, then froze.

“He- Is he dead?”

---

Previous ⇺ Masterlist ⇻ Next

Can you write something about side effects of hero power boosters? I think it could be so much fun! (If you want to of course.)

Thank you!

Side Effects

CW: death, physical trauma, hurting a friend, self-handcuffing, chains

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Villain’s head rolled through the dust and came to rest against a shattered wall.

Hero stared at it.

They didn’t mean for this to happen. They just wanted to counter the blast Villain had sent their way. They didn’t expect— they just flicked their finger.

The force that followed was something far more powerful than Villain (or anyone, as matter of fact) could handle.

Hero blinked slowly and looked at the amplifier bolted directly to their wrist bones. Only a small part of the device was visible on their skin, now glowing with an eerie light.

It pulsed.

In sync with their heartbeat, Hero realized.

The rest of the apparatus lay buried beneath their flesh.

The city groaned around them. Broken steel shifted. Fires crackled in distant ruins. Somewhere, far away, people were beginning to cheer. They must have noticed the fight was over—they just didn’t know yet what a horrendous act Hero had committed.

They looked at the severed head once more, blood slowly pooling around it, painting the rubble in red.

Hero’s stomach twisted.

Their hand went to their mouth, slowly. Boots crunched over broken concrete behind them.

“Hero?”

The voice snapped them out of the trance. They turned just as Researcher scrambled down a slope of rubble, her white coat covered in dust and blood.

She wasn’t supposed to be here.

She wasn’t a field worker—she belonged in the lab, buried beneath stacks of research notes and glowing monitors, arguing with heroes for yet another set of their blood samples.

Shame washed over their face.

Hero had distanced themselves from Researcher months ago, after they accused her of not doing enough. After they ran off to a black market and bought the amplifiers.

They didn’t tell her about this little secret. They hadn’t spoken since the argument, and Hero had done everything in their power to keep it that way.

Yet, when they saw Researcher slip on the demolished walls, something inside them broke.

Their face cracked with a quiet sob.

They reached out to her, another sob forcing its way from their throat. “Please,” they choked out. “Get them out of me!”

Researcher crossed the debris of the smashed furniture and slowed, staring at the devices protruding from Hero’s wrists. Her expression tightened.

“You idiot,” she whispered, but there was no anger in her voice. Just worry.

And Hero hated themselves much more because of it.

They felt tears begin to roll down their cheeks. “How bad did I fuck up?”

Researcher didn't answer. She looked over to what was left of Villain, his empty eyes staring back at her, then she turned to Hero.

A pulse tore through them, and the ground shook. Dust lifted in a slow, trembling ring around their boots as the amplifiers stuttered under their skin

Panic seized Hero.

They pressed their arms against their body and took a step back.

“Don’t come closer!” It was too easy to imagine her head snapping clean off her throat.

Researcher ignored them, eyes locked on the unstable gadgets half-awake under their skin, and made her way closer.

Hero could feel the heat rolling off of them in suffocating waves. Their entire body was shaking now.

“I can’t—”

Another pulse.

Hero cried out this time.

They clawed at the metal embedded in their skin, drawing blood, but the mechanical components stayed firmly in place. The amplifiers flared brighter, and a sharp jolt ran up their core.

They doubled over.

A wave exploded from their hands, sanding Researcher flying backwards. She hit the ground hard enough to crack concrete.

She didn’t get up.

Hero stared at her unmoving body being slowly swallowed by dust.

The energy still hissed around their hands, but it felt distant now—like it belonged to someone else. Their mind refused to catch up with what their body had done, looping the moment over and over in jagged fragments.

Then, finally, they came to themselves.

Their gaze snapped down to the pouch still hanging at their belt.

The containment cuffs.

They had brought them for Villain—power-restrictors designed to suppress any ability, to lock it down long enough for rest of the team to disable the enemy. They hadn’t expected to need them for themselves.

Their hands shook as they forced the mechanism open, fastening the restraints tightly around their own wrists.

Instantly, the power inside them dulled.

The exact moment, they broke into a run.

“Researcher!” they cried as they dropped to their knees beside her. They scooped her in their arms, the hand-cuffs getting in their way.

“Hey,” they pleaded. “Can you hear me?”

Her face lolled to a side.

Hero checked for visible bleeding first, hands trembling as they hovered over her body. There were no obvious wounds—no immediate pooling, no fractures jutting through skin. They pressed two fingers to her carotid, leaned closer to listen for breathing.

Hero exhaled in relief.

She was alive, for now. But they dreaded the moment her condition worsened. Their cuffs wouldn’t allow them to perform proper CPR.

They searched her pockets and found her phone, their thumb hovering for a moment before forcing it to move across the cracked screen

This is Hero. I hurt Researcher. Send a team to Stark’s Pavilion. Bring anything needed to incapacitate me.

Then they waited with her still form, their fingers idly threading through her hair as they whispered soft, calming words.

When the team arrived, Hero stepped aside and watched the medics swarm around Researcher. They fitted her with a neck brace, attached a pulse oximeter, and placed an oxygen mask over her face before loading her into the ambulance.

Hero explained to the others what had happened, and then climbed into the armored van.

No one argued, but there was uncertainty in everyone’s eyes. Hero had to prompt the team to restrain them before things got worse. They held out their wrists, steady, and allowed heroes to chain them to their seat. A second set of chains followed, fastening around their ankles and locking tight, until there was no room left for movement.

The door behind them closed, and Hero let out a shaky breath.

I wanted to re-read it but also I got really inspired and wanted to mark it down to write something similar one day and wanted to credit you for the inspiration. Would you prefer me not to, since you didn't like that story?

it's not about me not liking the story—i loved the idea—but i was not vibing with the execution.

I don't remember if it was your story or you rebbloged it, but I remember reading it on your blog! This was a long time ago, so I'm aware you may not remember that story, but I decided to give it a try :')

oooooh, hello.

That sounds familiar. To be honest, I re-read some of my stories, and absolutely hated them, and then deleted them. 🫣

I think it was one of those.

Those were one of the first things I have ever written, and I think my style changed quite a bit since then. I might try writing something like then again!

June of Doom 2026 | 14. "You'll have to do better than that." (servant – darkness – trembling)

CW: All the fun staff: bites, blood-drinking, vampires!

---

Money.

Servant loved them… and hated them.

Especially now, with the villa looming above him, shrouded in night. No lamps around, no light coming from inside. Just complete, all-consuming darkness.

Was this really the place where he was supposed to start working?

He approached the front door.

He didn't like it. Not one bit. Who expected their employees to work after sunset? But damn, he needed the money.

“Hello?” he said.

The road to the villa was narrow, meandering under tall trees, completely cut-off from the rest of the neighborhood.

He swore. If this is how I’m gonna die-

The door opened, but there was no one.

Okay. Not creepy at all.

Servant tried to look inside and see other workers, the employer… anyone, really. But the door looked as though it led straight into a black hole—a dark, frightening void.

He took a deep breath. Only because you pay well… “I’m coming in!”

He stepped inside, his pupils widening as they searched desperately for even the faintest trace of light… when he heard the door close behind him.

The hairs at the nape of his neck prickled, and a chill ran down his spine, as if something had actually touched him.

Oh, how he hated this.

But the money. You need them. You do it for them.

His eyes finally adjusted to the dark, and he gradually made out the outlines of cabinets and sofas in the waiting room.

And then he saw the… thing.

First, he mistook it for a coatrack, but slowly, he recognized the silhouette of a human. Just… standing there. In complete darkness.

He couldn’t move. He stared at it, his mind too shaken to actually do something, his heart rabid, pounding like a mad man.

And maybe he was.

God, he hoped he was.

Then two eyes glinted in the darkness.

Before Servant could do anything—cry out, run, or even throw up his hands—the thing was on him. It slammed him against one of the cabinets, its face so close he could feel its breath on his neck. He caught a glimpse of sharp, pointed teeth.

Oh. He was gonna die.

The monster seized his wrists in one hand, the other closed around his jaw, tilting his head back. Servant could feel the rapid pounding of his carotid arteries, and the thing could feel it too.

It leaned in, its nose lightly brushing against his skin… then a hot, wet tongue traced the frantic pulse beating in his throat.

Servant whimpered.

He tried to wrench himself free, but the thing held him still, laughing. “You’ll have to do better than that.” It’s voice was velvet. Smooth, rich, and entirely at odds with the monster standing before him.

Servant closed his eyes.

First, he felt its lips.

Then, the unmistakable sharpness of two beastly fangs. They pressed into his skin with a sharp, burning sting, and Servant tried to pull free again.

It was useless.

The thing smiled against his throat… and it drank.

Servant could feel the pull, the pressure of its lips at the wounds, his own body betraying him—pumping blood straight into the monster’s mouth.

His knees turned to jelly.

He had never been good with blood, honestly. He'd fainted from something as minor as a blood draw—for fuck's sake—if the creature hadn't been holding him up, he was certain he would have lost consciousness already.

A low, ecstatic sound escaped the monster’s lips, and its eyes fluttered shut. For a moment, it seemed lost in the sensation. Then, as abruptly as it had attacked, it pulled away and dropped Servant to the ground.

It smiled.

“You’ll be my favorite,” it whispered before disappearing back into the darkness.

Servant remained on the floor, trembling and bewildered. Scared half to death. He hugged his knees to his chest and stared with wide eyes toward the place where the creature had vanished.

His body and mind felt frozen, incapable of movement.

Until another sound snapped him out of it: a soft tapping, the scrape of something moving inside the cabinet he had been pinned against.

A wave of horror swept through him.

The cabinet door creaked open.

A girl crawled out on all fours, petite and not nearly as scared as she should have been. She rose to her feet, brushed off her servant's clothes, and smoothed a wrinkle from her sleeve. Then she turned to him with an outstretched hand.

Servant stared at her.

“Well?” she said. “Are you coming?”

He stared some more.

“The house won’t run itself.”

“What…?” he managed. Blinked. “What?”

The girl rolled her eyes, grabbed him under the arms and hauled him to his feet.

“I think I have… almost died.”

“Oh please,” she scoffed, lighting an electrical lantern. “Don’t be a baby. Everyone gets bitten on their first day.”

“… What?”

“You’ll get better at hiding as times goes on.”

“What? But… I—” the words died on his lips. He looked around. “We need to get out.”

Was she really that simple? Hadn't she seen that thing sink its teeth into his neck? How close it had come to ripping him apart?

Servant wanted to shake some sense into her. “What if it comes after us again?”

“Master never feeds more than once a night.”

“What?”

“It’s a little game. We hide. He hunts. And if he finds us, he gets to drink.” She turned to him, smiling. She definitely had a screw loose. “But don’t worry. Master is very reasonable. He never takes too much.”

She couldn’t be serious.

Maybe that thing had hit her in the head and she-

“Besides, have you seen the health insurance benefits?”

Oh. Right.

He had seen them.

And the generous vacation, all in black and white in his contract.

“It’s kind of fun, actually,” the girl continued, as she led him deeper into the villa. “And look… you’re not even bleeding anymore.”

He touched the spot where his… employer had bitten him.

Sure enough, he found no trace of the wound. No moisture, no scabbing. His skin was still sensitive to the touch, but even that lingering ache was quickly disappearing.

They arrived at a room with a sign on the door: Household Manager.

Here, the girl finally turned on the lights, though they remained dim.

“Master is a bit... photophobic,” she explained, setting the lantern on the table.

And there, Servant saw the contract.

And the sweet, sweet number at the bottom of the page.

His salary.

---

Oh, boi, YES I DO.

First of all, I am so sorry this took me such a long time—this ask have been sitting in my inbox for weeks.

So. Here we go:

①

The list needs to start with one and only @the-modern-typewriter. They are the reason I have tumblr in the first place and I love their everything. Every story they have ever written.

If you want my TOP favorites, search anything that involves vampires or scary villains.

②

Now, we move to an absolute machine-of-a-writer: @jumpywhumpywriter. They have SO MANY stories that are SO GOOD. I am (unfortunately) very scatterbrained person and I have read just a few of them.

But I present to you my latest obsession: A Life in the Hands of the Enemy – story about the funniest Hero x Villain duo I have ever read (and also: Hero is forced to be Villain's living weapon—could this get any better?)

For those who know me, adding Emaciated Villain Used as Entertainment at a Hero's Party is no surprise. There is something about the good guys having the villains in their power.

Last but not least, I would like to mention Immortal Deity Fights Mortal Human. This rubbed the right spot for me—I just love powerful figures being taken down.

③

Who do we have next? @oddsconvert!

They have three active series, but I am reading (and utterly obsessed with): A Taste of Your Own Medicine. It plays with one of my favorite tropes—role reversal. So, if you interested in whumper-turned-whumpee while he's forced to share cell with his previous whumpee, THIS IS FOR YOU.

④

Another favorite of mine is @befuddled-calico-whump.

Their story Wildfire gave me the best whumperflies (I LOVE Lex's mind—the rhymes??? Gets me every time!!!) It's villain-turned-whumpee-turned-living weapon and IT'S AMAZING. Go read it.

⑤

There was a one-shot story from @gingerly-writing that I've read years ago. Yet, from time to time, I remember it. So it definitely belongs on the list:

(It doesn't have a name, but let's call it) Supervillain and his Right Hand. I don't want to spoil the twist... but I give away this: IT GAVE ME SHIVERS.

⑥

Writer who has many little stories, @neongalaxiie, and I have read a lot of them, came up with something absolutely hilarious.

I mean, it looked real is about jokster villain and captive hero, who is forced to endure his shenenigans.

⑦

Another that comes to mind is @macknus.

It's while since I read this, but I still remember the story vividly: Pinned down. It's about winged whumpee and cruel whumper and it's absolutely DELICIOUS.

So, that's it, for now. It's very possible I've forgotten some (my brain isn't good with remebering things), but I hope you find some new favorite stories!

June of Doom 2026 | 8. Collared, protective

Okay, guys, I LOVED writing this and my exam season brain kept coming up with ideas... so expect more parts. Hope you like it!

CW: living weapon, treated as a thing, collared

---

Sitting in Handler’s office felt… wrong.

Everyone knew his methods were deeply questionable, and that heroes should stay as far away from him as possible. But the saying goes: desperate times call for desperate measures; and Hero was both desperate, and in need of a weapon.

He looked around, for what felt like the millionth time. The white walls stood tall and cold, and Hero was sitting in cerulean armchair—one of mismatched pair of red and blue—and he was waiting. He wondered whether Handler always let his customers wait. If, maybe, he wanted to show off his power.

“What a pleasure, Eclipse.”

Hero turned. He didn’t like Handler using his hero name. Not here.

He stood in a doorway, his hair ash-blonde and undercut, and nose curved into the beak of an eagle. A welcoming smile played on his lips. “It’s rare to see one of your kind here.”

Hero pressed his lips into a thin line. “Thank you for taking me.”

“Of course. Can I offer you something? Coffee? Tea?” Handler didn’t wait for an answer and sat down opposite him, crossing one leg over the other. “So. What brings you here, my friend?”

We are not friends.

“I need a weapon.” It hurt him to admit it, and even more when Handler’s lips curved into a pleased smile.

“And I have plenty to offer. But first, we should go through your preferences. What do you want it for?”

Hero bit the inside of his cheek. Handler was going to make this as unpleasant for him as possible.

“Rakehell.” Villain, who made most of the heroes quit, after he crippled all of the members of the Big Five, and killed one of them. After he managed to steal the national treasure and make the detectives look like complete idiots, and he had fun doing it—the bombs and fire and dead civilians and all.

Handler smiled. There was something in his expression Hero didn’t like—but then again—he didn’t like this whole situation.

“Do you opt for male or female?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“Do you want it for sexual uses too?”

Hero reddened. “What?!” The word came out far louder than he intended; exactly the kind of composed, heroic impression he had hoped to make.

“Sometimes you wouldn’t believe what clients demand,” Handler chuckled for himself. “It’s difficult to explain that my weapons are not trained in that area. They may be a little… stiff.”

Hero hated this idea a little more with every passing second. That’s not how one should talk about human beings—and he definitely should not be doing business with Handler.

But heroes didn’t have enough people.

And he needed a good fighter.

“So?” asked Handler. “Do you want it for sex?”

“No… God no.”

Hero, still taken aback, didn’t even want to imagine how the other buyers treated their weapons. He shifted in the armchair, hoping this conversation would soon be over.

Handler seemed to have opposite opinion: “Do you require any special skills?”

“…No?” Hero hesitated.

He really wasn't prepared for this.

But Handler didn’t seem to notice the pause, continuing without missing a beat: “What is your preferred method of punishment?”

“Eh… What?”

Handler laughed. “You heroes… I am asking how you would like to punish your weapon if it fails. Some are more suited to corporal punishments, while others are more effectively disciplined through starvation or isolation in confined spaces.”

Handler waited with patient smile on his face.

“I don’t want to punish them.”

“No problem. I have weapons that manage to punish themselves on their own-”

“Wait! No!” blurted out Hero, digging his nails into the armrests. “That’s not what I meant.”

“No?” Handler considered him, for a while, before he stood. “I think I have the right one for you. Should I bring it in?”

Suddenly, this felt so much more real. Hero swallowed and looked toward the door. What would this weapon be like? Cruel and merciless, as the rumors of Handler's other creations suggested? How would they feel about Hero? Could they even feel anything?

“You don’t need to worry,” Handler said softly. “If you don’t like it, we can choose a different one. But I believe this one is the best fit.”

Hero nodded.

And Handler brought the weapon in.

It was a man, tall and lean, who followed his master with his chest squared and his head slightly bowed. He came to a stop in front of Hero, keeping enough distance not to crowd him (not that it worked) while remaining close enough to be properly observed. Clasping his hands behind his back, he stood perfectly still.

Hero stood up (it felt wrong being the only one sitting) and studied the newcomer, waiting to see if he would return his gaze. The weapon, however, continued to stare obediently at the floor.

And then Hero noticed it: a leather collar around Weapon’s neck. It seemed needlessly cruel, and Hero couldn’t help himself and wondered if this wasn’t a bit too much.

He shot Handler a sharp look. No one was going to treat his people like that.

He turned back to the weapon and smiled. “What’s your name?”

“It doesn’t have one,” answered Handler instead. “We always let the new master to decide.”

“Surely you must have called him something.”

Handler chuckled. “Yes, we do use placeholder codes. This one is MX-1A.”

That was hardly a name and Hero couldn’t help himself and feel sorry for the man. But Weapon didn’t look distraught—he remained still, the only movement the steady rise and fall of his chest. Hero tried to find his eyes once more.

“You can pick your own name,” he promised. “Are there any that you like?”

At last, Weapon lifted his head. His uncertain eyes flicked to Handler, then back to Hero.

Handler laughed. “It’s not made to choose for itself. You’re confusing it.”

Hero hated how Handler kept calling the man it. As if he were a mere thing, not a living person.

“Look into my eyes,” he ordered, but his voice remained gentle. Weapon obeyed. “Do you want to go with me? Rakehell is dangerous.”

Weapon nodded. “Yes, master.”

Hero let out a relieved breath. He had feared that Weapon would seek answers from Handler once more, but his tone was firm. Confident. He was not pressuring Weapon into doing anything that would go against his convictions.

“Thank you. I want you to know that you will never be forced into anything with me. You are a free man. Whenever you want to leave—you are allowed.”

Something flashed in Weapon’s eyes.

Fear, Hero realized.

Weapon dropped to his knees and bowed low, his forehead hitting the ground. “I will be a good weapon to you, master. Please. There will be no reason for me to leave. Please.”

“Oh, dear hero.” Handler’s voice was soft, almost pitying. “They are like pet fish you release into the pond—dead. They cannot function without their master.”

This was so much worse than Hero had expected. How did you even force a person to submit so thoroughly that they would die without having someone to serve?

He had to hold from curving his face into the picture of disgust, into lashing out at Handler and showing him what happens when you set Eclipse against you. But he still wanted—needed—Weapon. He wanted to get him out of here as quickly as possible. Show him, what life could look like.

After they dealt with Rakehell, of course.

“I’ll take him,” Hero said slowly, trying not to focus on the fact that he was buying another human. “How much do you want?”

Handler smiled, the whites of his teeth flashing for the briefest moment. “Oh, dear friend.” He crossed to the cabinet under the window, and took out a leather strap.

Leash, Hero realized.

“I have a generous discount for you. Call it my contribution to your noble cause.” He handed him the leash, as if mocking. “Besides, it’s a good advertisement—there’s value in having heroes seen with my weapons.”

Hero felt bile climb up his throat. For a moment, he was tempted to hurl the leash back in Handler's face.

“I’m not using it.”

“It will think you don’t want it.”

Hero looked back at Weapon. Though he still knelt motionless, there was a stiffness in his shoulders now, a hint of unease creeping into his expression.

Hero stared at the leash for a moment before forcing himself to step forward. Weapon lifted his chin, exposing the ring on his collar. An invitation to attach the leash on. Hero's fingers felt clumsy as he clipped it to the collar, but Weapon looked relieved.

Relieved.

And Hero hated it. Hated what it said about the life Weapon had lived before this. Yet he wrapped his fingers around the leash and led him out of the building.

---

Sorry if I delivered my opinion in a way that felt like a criticism to you, the writer. I was actually criticizing her in a very meta way, but I believe she is very interesting and you are depicting very complex emotions in a compelling way.

That "I don't understand" was a way to say: "Well, this is a character that is very ambivalent and has a lot of different feelings".

Like, my instinctive reaction to her is... "well, I get your resentment! But why is your idea of punishment... rape?"

She does not want to rape him, but at the same time she presents him with sexual extortion, which in my opinion is enough, haha.

She practically said: "Be mine or get tortured/face superhero".

Like, I think you are cooking, because you are giving me lots of feelings towards her, very negative ones, haha.

I didn't think you meant it in a bad way at all!

And even if it had been criticism—as long as someone is kind and constructive—it's good to see feedback and know what I can improve on!

You're right about Hero. To be honest, I've gone much further with her than I originally intended (thanks to my amazing anons—if you have ideas, don't hesitate to send them my way. They might end up in the story).

Part 5 wasn't even supposed to happen according to my original plan! (And this is where I feel Hero's involvement was at its greatest—she was the one who agreed to Olli's plan.)

In Part 6, Hero wasn't having any sexual thoughts at all—as you said—she doesn't want to rape Villain. She kinda wants his devotion (I say kinda because she doesn’t really know what she wants), and she got it with the terrible plan (again... kinda?). Now she simply went to wash him, and it never occurred to her how that must look from the villain's perspective after everything that had happened.

Of course, that doesn't change the fact that horrible, horrible things happen in my story, and that she is a big part of them. I'm curious myself to see how I'll manage to bring it all together. I haven't written much in my life, and what little I have written certainly wasn't this dark and twisted.

Helloooooo!

That's right! This hero comes from my absolute love for conflicted characters.

Hero hates Villain. He killed her mom. He killed Sparrow and Blue, and he killed many more, all of them in a gruesome manner.

Part of her wants to see him suffer for this. Feel the satisfaction of him going through the exact things he happily caused himself.

But also:

She's never been violent person and there is this second voice in her head that feels pity for Villain.

And those two sides fight with each other.

Yes. She knows that what she's doing is wrong (she often calls her mind twisted and evil), yet she feels that Villain deserves it in a way. And she can't decide which side is right.

Aaaaand also, I'm not a professional. 😅 I do this for fun, and even though I have a basic idea of where the story is headed, I change the direction very often—I just write what feels right in the moment and deviate from the original idea quite a lot. I post as I write. When I look back at the story, there are many things I would do differently—but I can't change them now.

So I might not have conveyed the story in the best way, and I'm sorry for that.

I hope I'll get better at storytelling as I continue writing. I have amazing readers here, and they deserve the best. ❤

Hero had grieved long enough. Determined to reclaim her life, she accepts an invitation to a friend’s party—but she isn’t prepared for the night’s main attraction: the man who took everything from her. Bloodied. And wearing a leash.

Contains: villain whumpee, hero whumpers, used as a party entertainment, nsfw

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Part 7

Part 8 – comming soon

This series is inspired by the amazing work of @jumpywhumpywriter: Emaciated Villain Used as Entertainment at a Hero's Party.

I just wanted to check in and see how you're doing lately (I noticed there's been no activity on your blog for awhile, so I figured I'd pop in and say hi)

Feel free to answer this in as short or long of a reply as you want, or not at all if you're not feeling up to it. There's no pressure :)

Hellooo, my lovely doves!

If you don’t mind, I'll use this ask for a little life update.

Per usual, I am very busy (so sorry to everyone who sent lovely asks). Unfortunately, things I need to do in real life are not finnished yet, so please, take the latest update as a very short ressurection. I will not be active here for at least a month or two.

I check the site from time to time, but don’t expect anything big. Thank you for understanding.

Second thing. Someone asked me for tumblr recomendations—I promise I'll put them together, sorry you are waiting for such a long time.