#Hero whumper

[shywhumpauthor]

You Can’t do This

Cw: kidnapping, restraints, torture, mentioned mouth/eye whump (doesn’t actually happen), non-con touching, knives, threat of asphyxiation/choking

“Wait- wait,” Villain sputtered, the words tripping over their tongue, snagging in the back of their throat. “You can’t- Hero, this is illegal- you can’t do this!”

They twisted their wrists against the restraints that bound them to the chair, flexing their fingers to try to relieve a fraction of the pressure. The movement only pushed the cables deeper into their skin, dragging a hiss from their clenched teeth.

A warm hand wrapped around their neck from behind, turning their exhale into a wheeze as their head was shoved against the back of the chair.

“Since when have you cared much about what’s legal?” Hero responded, amusement adding a drawl to their words. They circled the chair, grip on Villain’s neck adjusting so their palm lay against the villain’s wind pipe, fingers digging into the sensitive skin on the side of their neck. Just enough pressure to fear, for Villain to feel the threat of their airway being crushed, but not enough to cut off their breathing. Not yet.

“He-Hero, this isn’t funny, stop.” Villain grit out, shrinking as far back as the chair would allow. Hero only pressed closer, moving in so their legs were on either side of Villain’s, their ankles bound to the chair legs.

“Was it funny when the roles were reversed? All those nights I spent tied up in your basement, bleeding and cold? Was it funny then?” Hero hissed, their other hand raising to Villain’s face with the speed of a strike. Barely in time, Villain braced themself, only for a warm hand to press against their jaw, fingers brushing over the curve of their cheekbone. The touch was stark against the chill in the air, a misplaced comfort—artificial. Hero’s stroked their thumb below Villain’s eye gently, before coming to a pause with both hands cradling either side of Villain’s face. “Was it?”

“No, no Hero, it wasn’t,” Villain’s voice wavered now, threatening to crack. “You can’t do this, you’re s’posed to be the good guy-”

Hero stepped back suddenly, tearing their hands away from Villain’s face like their skin had turned toxic. Villain tried to ignore the ache that swelled in their chest as the cold air drowned any remnants of the warm touch in moments.

“I guess I am, aren’t I? The ‘good guy’?” Hero repeated, turning their back to Villain. They stepped to the side of the poorly lit room, to something that resembled an old workbench, their body blocking Villain from seeing what they were doing. “I wonder what the press will say about your sudden absence. They’ll publish anything I tell them to, you know? I could feed them some story about you fleeing the city, the country even, and your name would be forgotten in a week.”

Hero turned around, bracing their palms against the workbench and leaning back.

“Everyone always believes the good guy, don’t they?” Hero shook their head. “No one cares about another pesky street criminal, do they? All they care about is Supervillain, the papers would move on from you the next day and you’d be forgotten. You wouldn’t even get one of those ten year follow-ups.”

“Hero, let me go. You can’t do this. You can’t,” Villain twisted their arms against their restraints in one last pitiful attempt to free themself, accomplishing nothing but to make Hero chuckle.

Hero pushed themself forwards, striding closer. It was only then Villain noticed something in their hand, slender and orange—a box cutter, they realized quickly, as the hero closed the distance between them in three steps.

“Tell me exactly what I can and can’t do, Villain? What can’t I do to you?” Their hand twisted in Villain’s hair, shoving their head back against the chair while the other flipped out the blade on the box cutter.

The words died in Villain’s throat. Their lips parted, eyes tracking the blade as Hero lifted it up to their face.

“I can do anything I want to you.” Hero’s eyes stared directly into Villain’s as they placed the blade against their skin, just below their eye. “You should be glad, your eyes look so pretty when you’re scared. Otherwise I would’ve plucked them out by now,” Hero began to move the blade to the side, putting just enough pressure to split a thin line of red below Villain’s eye.

Villain didn’t dare breathe as Hero paused, gritting their teeth against the sting as they felt the blade puncture a bit deeper. A drop of blood rolled down their cheek like a tear.

“I thought about this moment every night in your basement,” Hero muttered, pushing the edge harder into Villain’s flesh as they followed the track of the blood, drawing a half suppressed yelp from Villain as the pain suddenly intensified. “Planning out exactly what I would do to you, how I’d pay you back for everything you’ve done to me.”

Hero accented the last word with a sudden sharp twist, finishing the line to Villain’s jaw before pulling their hand back. Tears burning in the corners of Villain’s eyes, welling faster than Villain could suppress them.

“Ple- please, Hero, you can’t,” Villain’s voice trembled, any thoughts of maintaining their dignity gone with their fear.

Hero’s palm cracked against their bleeding cheek, catching them off guard. Pain like fire burned from the cut, their head snapping to the side with the force of the blow.

“This will be your only warning,” Hero began, their empty hand grabbing Villain by the chin and tugging them back to look at them. “I do not have the same reservations about your voice as I do your eyes. Another word from you, I’ll cut out your tongue and shove it down your throat and it’ll be the only food you get for a month, got it?”

[whump-place]

When a Villain Whumpee is shown off at a heroes party.

They are a trophy, a symbol. A reminder to the city that it doesn't matter how bad things turn out, the heroes will always be there to save the day.

Whumpee knows they deserve it, but still.

No one can see their malnourished body under those expensive clothes the heroes got for them.

No one can see the bruises on their ribs, the dislocated shoulder that aches under the soft coat they were given.

But what's even worse.

Whumpee knows that even if someone did actually notice, they wouldn't care.

No one would care for a villain like them, after all.

[clickerflight]

Jasper

Jasper from @fleur-a-whump's story here.

I adore villain whumpees. Especially when they were trying to change and were met with hostility!

Other Whump art list

[automeris-io-moth]

Short #1

“Oh my,” Civilian heard in the distance, a fog blurring their sight, and the unshakable feeling of exhaustion confusing their head “poor little thing, left for dead.” 

The figure approached, kneeling in the ground beside them, softly grabbing their head with both their hands, guiding it upwards, towards them, stroking their sweaty hair, wet with something sticky, something dark and too agitating to think about at that time and place. 

A weave of nausea quickly catched up, forcing Civilian to react, moving in a quick motion their head to the side, throwing up all over the floor beside them and the stranger handling them with so much care. 

“Oh love, that can’t be good,” the figure continued, pulling them close once again, a handkerchief cleaning the corners of their mouth with light taps “what do you say I take you home? I can make it all better, I bet that you’re feeling quite uncomfortable right now.” 

Civilian nodded absentmindedly, only half processing what they were agreeing to, immediate relief from their pain and turmoil coming right before self preservation. Vampire related incidents were on the rise in the city, it was an open secret. 

The stranger smiled warmly. 

“I’m glad,” they said, twisting the young person in their arms to carry them comfortably to the elegant white car waiting for them, door opened, man waiting beside it “you’re gonna be the perfect example for Hero, he needs to learn how dangerous they are when rejecting their sires help, they must not have even realised they left you there dying.” 

The stranger sighed, getting them inside the car, resting Civilian’s head over their lap, not caring for the blood and grime staining their pants and car seats. 

“Don’t worry, pretty thing, I’ll take care of you until they are capable, even if that takes a couple decades.” 

_

Masterlist

[the-three-whumpeteers]

The whumpee was only ever known as the villain’s child, someone who could cause as much as destruction as their parent- but the whumpee wouldn’t ever do that. The heroes don’t believe the whumpee will be different, specially not the whumper, who decides to take the whumpee out of the equation before they can cause any trouble, and since nobody particularly liked the whumpee, they turn a blind eye at the torture the whumpee is forced to endure.

[fleur-a-whump]

Overloaded (#2)

late night sparks

guys guess what!! little villain guy has a name!! it’s Jasper and we love him dearly. also team leader��s got a name too, it’s Miguel, but we don’t really care about him because he’s a bitch. plus new character reveal: Chase, a teammate. he is also, unsurprisingly, a bitch.

Content: ex-villain whumpee, hero/leader whumper, manipulative whumper, collars, electrocution (for realsies this time), implied referenced abuse of a minor, referenced bullying, bad team dynamics, adult language

in which Miguel gets worse. takes place probably a few months after "preventative measures"

previous | masterlist | next

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jasper's back was sore. And his arms. And his everything.

He sat kneeling on the kitchen floor, determinately ignoring the pins and needles that pricked at his calves. He couldn't stop, couldn't take a break till the floor was spotless. Chase had once again threatened some mixture of violence and telling on him to Miguel for insubordination if he didn't do the man's chores. 

Big man-child, Jasper thought bitterly.

So, here he was, scrubbing well past midnight, after having spent the day straining his powers in the lab and doing his own chores. 

Jasper sat back to indulge a long, dramatic yawn. He nearly jumps out of his skin when an impatient ahem cuts through the previously dead silent kitchen. His bleary eyes take several long moments to focus on Miguel, leaning against the doorway. The hero would look casual if it weren’t for the peeved look on his face. Jasper’s stomach does a somersault.

Sheepish, Jasper drawls, “Heyyy, Miguel…”

Miguel is not amused. “What the fuck are you doing out here,” he snaps.

Jasper squeezes his hands into fists to quell the tremors. He stutters, “J-just cleaning.”

The villain can hardly finish the statement before the unsettling and painful electricity of the collar arcs through him. His muscles seize and ache and burn and it feels like death and he can't breathe—

Just as quickly as it began, the electricity stops. He gasps and collapses to the side, just barely able to catch himself on his forearm. Small, choked-off whimpers escape him as he tries to catch his breath and keep his volume to a minimum. His father never liked to hear him whine.

Jasper continues to shudder as his powers go haywire. The typically comforting restless skittering of his own electricity under his skin now burns as it travels across the newly fried neurons. More than that, it feels wrong for such a core part of his being to cause him pain. The feeling is everywhere, from the tip of his nose to his toes, and it is everything. Little sparks and crackles of energy fly from his shaking hands as it becomes too painful to completely contain his powers. Simply existing—not to mention actually using his powers—will be painful while his body tries to recover from the unnaturally strong current, engineered just for him.

As his body gradually backs down from its state of panic, ire at the punishment surges within him. The hero didn’t even let him explain. It was Chase who ordered him to do his chores; ordered him to not leave this room until it was spotless.

“I was just following orders!” he bursts.

Oh shit.

A quick glance at Miguel and his quirked eyebrow lets him know just how badly he just fucked up. And even if it didn't, the second burst of electricity from the collar definitely spells it out for him.

A guttural groan escapes his clenched teeth as he feels the current worm its way through his neurons, igniting them. The burning, all-encompassing pain is all he knows. Spots cloud his vision. Seconds feel like minutes, feel like hours, feel like eternity, until he wonders if that's all he'll ever feel. Nothing but the gut-wrenching pain of his greatest gift, so deeply intertwined with his being, turned against him and ripping him apart from the inside out. 

And then, it stops.

Jasper’s body fully gives out this time, his chin bouncing off the tile and teeth clacking painfully. He's a pitiful mess of useless limbs. His muscles feel like jelly and yet are still forced to endure the waves of aftershock, twitching and spasming irregularly. Each movement is agony.

He gulps oxygen, having still been out of breath from the first shock. He can hardly hear his own moans and whimpers bouncing around the kitchen with each breath over the ringing in his ears, and he has zero energy to control them this time.

A hand lands on his shoulder, and he can't help the delayed but violent flinch that ripples through him. But the hand is soft, gentle, as it pulls him to lie on his back. It guides his hand to rest on someone's chest, to follow as it rises and falls rhythmically. He latches onto it, using it as a guide to breathe and bring himself back to reality. Another hand gently cards through his loose curls as he works to steady his breathing and his vision clears. If he eagerly leans into the gentle touch, well, he can blame it on his delirious state.

When Miguel's face finally comes into focus above him, a shiver runs through him, and he averts his gaze. He'll blame that on his still-spasming muscles.

Miguel’s soft voice calls for his attention again. He focuses back on his leader’s face, haloed above him by the bright kitchen lights.

“There you are. You're alright, it's okay,” he soothes.

The hero lets Jasper relish the contact a moment longer before gently returning his hand to his own chest.

Jasper swallows the whimper at the loss.

Miguel lets out a long-suffering sigh. It gives Jasper whiplash how suddenly the familiar weight of anxiety settles back in his chest.

“I don't like doing that, man. You know better than to be in the common areas after your curfew, and you definitely know better than to talk back, bud. I don't wanna have to punish you, but the rules are rules for a reason. Yeah, they're to protect the team, but they're also to protect you. What if you'd had another episode with your powers?”

He decidedly doesn’t think about the ‘episodes’ Miguel is referring to. Still, the disappointment in his savior's voice hurt almost as much as the electricity. His eyes flood with tears as guilt settles like a rock in his stomach. The hero was right. He knew the rules, and he agreed to them. Anything to stay. Anything to be good.

His voice breaks, small and shaky, as he says, “I-I'm really s-sorry, Mig-guel.”

The villain’s not one hundred percent sure what exactly he's sorry for, but, fuck, is he sorry.

“Okay, that's alright, don't cry. I think you've learned your lesson. You're fine.” 

The words should be comforting. The edge to his tone, however, is not. Jasper blinks hard to clear the tears, not wanting to annoy him. That was another thing his father didn't like.

Miguel brings him back to the present, asking, “Why are you cleaning the floor anyways? That's not on your list for this week.”

Jasper swallows hard past the lump still in his throat. He’s afraid of what Chase will do to him if he tells Miguel and Miguel decides he doesn’t like that. However, he’s more “Chase s-said I should be busy all the t-time to k-keep me out of trouble…”

Miguel hums in thought, ever casual as Jasper trembles on the floor below of him. 

“I actually like that idea. We wouldn't want you getting bored. You'd be helping the team out a lot too, taking some work off our plates so we can train more. I'll work on the new chore schedule in the morning.”

Jasper bit his lip. He could read between the lines.

“A-and, my training?”

“We can reduce it some,” Miguel says, thoughtful. “I know you've been struggling to keep up.”

He makes it sound like a kindness, voice full of sympathy. No matter how gentle the tone, Jasper has to blink the tears from his eyes again. He knew he wasn't the strongest or the most capable, but that was the point of training. He'd never be good enough to redeem himself without the chance to train.

Miguel sighs again and stands. He suddenly reaches towards him. Jasper has to carefully control the urge to flinch, not knowing what to expect from the movement. He never knows what to expect.

Miguel simply holds it out towards him, however, expectantly. It takes Jasper a moment to realize he's trying to help him up. He takes the hand after that moment's hesitation and wavers on unsteady feet as the blood finally rushes back into his legs. He blinks spots from his vision, gripping Miguel for dear life until he's sure he's not going to pass out.

The hero gives him an easy smile, clapping a hand on his shoulder just a bit too hard. He nudges him in the direction of the bedrooms.

“You look tired, man. I think it's time for bed,” he all but coos.

It sounds like a caring gesture, or at the very least a joke. Jasper knows it's an order.

He dutifully mumbles, “Goodnight,” before making his way to the door slowly. He knows he probably looks like a newborn fawn as his jittery body tries to carry him to his bed.

“And Jasper?”

A slight jolt of anxiety stops him as he turns back to his leader.

“If I catch you out past curfew again, we're going to have an issue worth more than a little jolt, understand?”

“Yes, sir,” the villain says, too tired to bite back the honorific once totally engrained in him.

He doesn't notice the way Miguel preens at the submission.

“Attaboy, Jasper. Goodnight.”

The praise rings hollow after the night's events, but as he makes his way back to his room, dead on his feet, he allows the praise to warm him. 

He'll take what he can get.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

jasper doesn't deserve this :( but he will get more >:)

tags!! lmk if you wanna be added (or removed, I added some extra people)!!

@whumpsday

@sergeant-jasper (yo i didn't even realize lol)

@watermelons-dont-grow-on-trees

@crystalrose141

@aloafofbreadwithanxiety

@paingoes

@elizaisnotokay

@quaggasus

[whump-and-other-misfortunes]

Hero had noticed that Villain seemed a little distracted during their fight—not bantering as much as usual, fighting back halfheartedly. Still, they had expected Villain to dodge their attack in time. But when Hero sent out another blast of their ice powers, it hit Villain square in the chest, knocking them into the wall behind them. 

Hero gasped as they watched Villain crumple to the ground, clutching at their chest. “Oh my god.” 

Villain groaned, staring down at the ice spreading across the front of their suit. “Fuck. You got me good, huh?” they forced out. The laugh that followed was on the verge of hysterical. 

“God, Villain, I’m so sorry,” Hero said, rushing to them. They knelt down in front of Villain, pushing their shaking hands out of the way so Hero could inspect the damage. Ice had pierced through their suit, seeping into Villain’s chest. Thanks to their own fire powers, it most likely wouldn’t be fatal—Villain's body heat had already begun counteracting the ice. But it looked like it hurt. 

Villain’s eyes were distant when they looked up at Hero, and their lips were tinged blue. “My fault,” they said, teeth chattering. “Should’ve been paying attention.” 

Hero shook their head. “No, no it’s not your fault. Shit, I'm sorry, I knew you were having an off day and I still…” 

Villain wrapped their arms around themself as shivers wracked their body. “S-so cold. And tired.” 

“You have to stay awake,” Hero instructed, though it came out as more of a plea. “Keep your eyes open, okay?” 

The ice was beginning to melt away already, but the effects would probably last longer. “You’ve g-got your chance to t-turn me in now,” Villain said, forcing themself to keep their eyes on Hero. 

Hero sighed, pushing Villain’s hair back. “Not gonna happen. I’m taking you home where you can have some hot soup and lots of blankets, and then rest. And maybe when you’re feeling better, you can tell me what had you so distracted today.” 

“Why?” Villain asked incredulously. 

“I did this. Now I'm going to fix it.” Hero didn’t tell them about the guilt and the looming fear that always followed them. The constant underlying threat of their powers being too strong. Or that they might lose control, like they had today. One of their worst fears had just come true and it was only by luck, or maybe a miracle, that Hero had hit the one person who couldn’t be killed by their ice powers. 

“If you w-wanted me to c-come home with you, you c-could've just asked,” Villain joked. 

Hero couldn’t help but smile—at least Villain was with it enough to still tease them. “Don’t fool yourself. Once you’re all better, we go back to being enemies.” 

“Yeah. Obviously.” Hero pretended not to notice the way Villain’s smile faltered. “You’d have t-to take me to dinner f-first, anyways. I’m not that easy.” 

“Well,” Hero said, “I can at least make you chicken noodle soup, so hopefully that counts for something. Now, come on, let’s see if you can stand…” 

[pigeonwhumps]

Superhero's pet

WoW's birthday event: day 9: aftermath of rescue | sickness | "you're burning up"

Taglist: @painful-pooch @i-eat-worlds @a-funeral-romance @rainydaywhump

Caretaker's rescued Villain from Superhero from years in his 'care'. But that doesn't mean things are easy, especially when he's still her boss.

The blame for this goes entirely to @echo-goes-mmm.

1.9k

CWs: Villain whump, pet whump, severe self-dehumanisation, past dehumanisation, past animalisation, asking for punishment, past torture

Caretaker prepares for work quickly and silently nowadays. She needs the extra time, because she has someone else to look after now.

Villain. Superhero's former plaything. The test case in the new villain rehabilitation programme.

Or, as they call themself – pet.

They wanted to be called dog. They were called dog. But pet somehow seems like a slight improvement. They use that now, for themself.

They have the same routine every day Caretaker works, and it seems to help. She wakes them up once she's completely ready to leave. She'd gladly leave them asleep, but the one time she tried, they panicked and hurt themself. She hasn't tried since.

She shakes them gently awake. They're asleep on a human-sized pet bed in her room, snuggled under a large blanket until only the tip of their satin bonnet is visible.

They wouldn't take the bed in the spare room, insisting that "pets don't deserve beds," and she wasn't letting them sleep on the carpet. This was the compromise, when she realised even a room to themself was too much.

They wake and push themself immediately to their hands and knees, reaching out to kiss Caretaker's trainers. She takes a step back.

"Hey, buddy. You don't need to do that, remember?"

Villain trembles, forehead dropping to meet the hard carpet. "Your pet is sorry, Mistress. Please punish it."

"Not happening. Come on, get dressed and then it's time for breakfast."

Caretaker turns her back as quickly as possible as Villain starts stripping without a care who's there. She's not sure she wants to know what Superhero did to make them like this.

They won't take off their collar, insisting that it'll make them a "bad dog", but there's no bell any longer and she's working on the tag.

"Your pet is dressed, Mistress."

"Good pet." She hates the term, but they practically glow when she calls them it so maybe it's worth it? "Follow me."

Villain crawls behind Caretaker, settling into a knelt position when they reach the kitchen. She stifles a sigh. They've come on since she brought them home, but there's still a long way to go. The number one priority of which is to get them to eat like a person.

"What would you like to eat this morning, Villain? Crumpets or toast with jam?" They were their two favourites before they vanished, she knows. And they're edible with fingers, which... Caretaker doesn't ever want to watch them eat like an animal again.

"Whatever Mistress desires."

"Well I would desire you to make a decision. It's okay, I won't punish you for it."

Villain pales, visibly trembling again. "May this pet... may it have crumpets, please, Mistress? It understand if it requires a reminder of its position instead, but please show mercy on your pet for following your instructions." Then they cringe away, repeating under their breath in a monotone, "Good dogs don't ask for mercy. Good dogs take what they're given. Good dogs need regular reminders."

"Shh, buddy. It's okay, I'm not going to hurt you."

Villain's breath hitches. "Please remind this pet of its place, Mistress. It needs regular reminders, This pet is a bad, bad dog and it needs to learn its place."

Caretaker winces. Why does 'dog' sound so much worse than 'pet'?

"You're not a bad pet. You're very good already. Is that where your scars are from?"

"Some, Mistress. This pet requires maintenance."

Caretaker nods, glad she's already eaten. She sets the dog bowl in front of them. "Eat your breakfast."

Villain obediently lifts a crumpet (and god, at least they're using their hands now) and hunches over it, eating like they'll never be fed again.

For all Caretaker knows, that could be a plausible possibility in their mind. Did Superhero threaten that? Villain is still underfed.

She watches as they polish off their meal. As she has before, she wonders if she's using the right pronouns anymore. Sure, it/its are conditioned into Villain, but that doesn't mean she shouldn't use them. Does it?

"I'm going to work today, Villain. While I'm gone, I'd like you to clean the dishes and look after your goldfish. You can go out on the balcony if you like, but no further outside. I'm sorry, we can't risk it yet. Is that clear?"

"Yes, Mistress."

"Good pet."

Caretaker bends down and scratches behind their ear, which they lean into eagerly. "Stay safe."

Then she leaves, unable to think of anything else to say.

_

Superhero has asked to see her.

Superhero has asked to see her.

Caretaker would be nervous normally, because now she's finished her training he only ever calls her in when she's failed, but now... what if he's found out about Villain? As a technopath it was simplicity itself hacking into the system to investigate the rehabilitation centre, but what if she left some trace of herself behind? Online, at the centre itself, in her behaviour over the past few weeks... she could've done anything.

As she walks through the building, she passes many people, some of whom smile or call out greetings. She wonders just how many know what Superhero's been doing.

She hadn't. Villain had been missing for two years and god, she was so naïve. Believing Superhero's reassurances (when she dared to ask) that they were being well taken care of, and he'd visited himself, the conditions were completely up to scratch. They should be no worry of Caretaker's now. His terrible lies that make her blood boil.

She knocks on his office door and waits for a response before entering.

"You wanted to see me, sir?"

His eyes are ice cold behind his smile. "Yes. I wanted to ask how you're doing."

"Sir?"

"After Villain's escape. I notice your success rate is down recently."

"Oh." She twists her fingers behind her back. Of course she has, she's not arresting anyone else to be hauled off and tortured into Villain's state or worse. "I'm sorry, sir, I've just been worried about Villain." Not a lie. "I'll do better."

"Mm." He steeples his hands together under his chin, watching her steadily with the gaze of the agency's golden boy, and it's in moments like these that she's reminded of how brutal his training was. How unforgiving. "Any idea where he could be?"

Her mind flashes back to a morning during Villain's first week with her, when they'd licked spilt jam off the kitchen floor because "bad dogs don't waste food".

"No, sir."

"Pity. As their nemesis, I expect you to do better."

"I expect you to do better, Caretaker. We'll try again in an hour."

Caretaker shivers. At least she no longer has to be trained by Superhero.

Why did she ever like and trust him?

"Sorry, sir."

"Let me know if you find anything. Dismissed." He flicks a hand towards the door and she exits obediently. You don't argue with Superhero, even if you're not trying to keep a low profile.

Às soon as she's far enough away, she leans against a wall and closes her eyes, breathing hard. She is so, so glad she doesn't regularly carry a knife around with her. Stabbing Superhero 47 times in the chest might be a slight giveaway that she no longer likes him.

_

Caretaker returns home to the smell of chemicals and Villain kneeling on the freshly-cleaned carpet, behind an array of implements. Lighter, matches, fire poker, broom, knife, bleach, rope, salt...

"Villain, what..."

"You have been stressed, Mistress, and this pet is overdue its maintenance. This pet thought that this might help, as it did Master." Then they say somewhat proudly, "This pet used its initiative, as you requested. Has it pleased you, Mistress?"

The pieces finally click and Caretaker stumbles back, hand flying to her mouth, horrified. Villain thought... Caretaker would want to torture them because she was stressed? More than that, they fetched all these torture implements and brought them together in an effort to please her, knowing how they would be used?

"I... put those away, Villain, please. We won't be needing those tonight. And once you're finished go and wait in the living room. I think we need to talk again."

"Yes, Mistress." They pick up the first implement (a hammer) and crawl awkwardly towards the cupboard where the DIY stuff is kept. Caretaker thinks about reminding them they can walk, but they're shaking so much already. It probably wouldn't do any good.

She changes into something more comfortable before turning the kettle on, her own hands shaking. God. It feels like every day she discovers some new, despicable thing Superhero has done. Forget the knives – she could kill him with her bare hands.

She used to just be able to relax after work. Those were the days. But– she can't very well just leave Villain. They're her responsibility, and she's their only option.

Sighing, she carefully carries two cups of chamomile tea into the living room and sets them down on the coffee table. Villain is knelt in what must be the most uncomfortable corner of the room – difficult to find, as the place is tidier than she's ever seen it.

"Will you come and join me on the sofa, please, Villain? Or at least beside the sofa, if it makes you feel more comfortable."

She's sure they'll do that, they always do, and she arranges soft cushions on the hard carpet to make it more comfortable, since the rug doesn't reach far enough. At least she's always had far too many cushions.

She lives in hope that one day they'll feel comfortable enough to start using furniture again.

"So, first things first. Thank you for cleaning the house so thoroughly. It's never been so sparkling. You didn't have to, but I'm very grateful you did. And I'm proud of you for using your initiative, please keep doing so. However, stop bringing me torture implements. That's an order. I'm not going to punish you, Villain, and nobody deserves being hurt by any of that. Understand?"

"Yes, Mistress. This pet apologises for not letting you choose the method of punishment completely. It will do better in future."

"No, that's not what I–" She cuts off, pinching her brow. She's not going to get them to understand, at least not yet. "Thank you, buddy. Now, why don't we both relax? I'll find us something we'll both like."

"Yes, Mistress."

They settle for an episode of Great British Bake Off in the end. Not that Villain ever comments either way, but they did when they still fought each other and if Villain lied to her about their preferences then that's their own fault.

Villain rests their head on her lap and watches the screen sideways, eyes half-closed. Caretaker rubs small circles into their shoulders.

She feels so incredibly guilty for arresting them in the first place. She's responsible for this, albeit indirectly. The Villain she knew would never have forgiven her.

Speaking of which...

"Why are you never angry with me, Villain? I'm the reason you were tortured for two years."

Villain glances up from under their lashes for just a second.

"Good dogs don't bark."

[a-class-attempter]

In public, Whumper would use their healing powers for good. They were seen as a national hero, going to hospitals and healing grave injuries and illnesses, saving hundreds of lives a day. But in private, they like to have a little fun. Today, they had whumpee, a pesky little nurse who had caught Whumper taking a different playtoy from the hospital. That little brat was currently in a coma in Whumper’s cellar.

Whumper spent hours with Whumpee, discovering the limits of the human body. Their hands were covered in blood, as was the entire room. Whumpee was barely breathing with the tight leather collar around their neck and half their guts lying on the floor. The only thing that kept them alive was Whumper’s powers, forcing their heart to keep beating.

[whumppromptoftheday]

villain stumbles into their apartment and collapses onto the couch. their partner walks into the room and sighs, "why do you keep going out there?"

"if I don't...hero will have time to gain complete control. i have to stop that happening."

[snowshowerwriting]

Whumptober Day 2: Trust issues | Role Reversal

It's 11:59 Wednesday somewhere in the world still...

TW: Post-battle/fight disaster, off screen death, hints towards abusive dynamics

The Villain couldn't breathe. Debris crashed all around them, and the air was filled with dust and ash. It took the villain a few seconds to orient themselves upright again, knees shaking as they stared at the wreckage ahead of them. When the reality set in, their heart sank.

Everything was ruined. The lair was broken and bent beyond recognition. The home they had once shared with friends, with people who were like family to them was gone within seconds. The Villain took one shaky step forward, and then another before breaking out into a run towards where the piles of wall and debris sat.

They kneeled on the rubble and began to dig through it. There was only one thing in their mind right now- to find the Supervillain, to know that he hadn't died. The only sounds were the fragments of brick being tossed to the side and the ringing in the Villain's ears. Although they were calling out for the Supervillain's name, they could barely hear their own voice beyond their panicked thoughts. They couldn't take in a proper breath between heaving sobs.

"Villain!"

Very vaguely, the Villain recognized the voice of the Hero far behind them in the aftermath of the battle. This wasn't supposed to happen, the Hero wasn't supposed to take it this far, and the Supervillain wasn't supposed to be hurt, he wasn't supposed to be dead.

"Villain!" This time, a strong grip had taken hold of their arms and spun them around. Villain's breath hitched as the shock began settling, and the numbness in their hands went away. They hadn't realized how badly their body was scrapped up until the Hero squeezed their hands. Every little mark lit on fire.

"Gods, are you okay? What are you doing there?" The questions were accompanied by gentle hands brushing the villain's bangs back. Villain recoiled at the touch, almost stumbling back at the unsteady ground. "Don't you dare fucking touch me!" The venom in the Villain's voice had caught both the hero and themself by surprise.

The Hero stared at the Villain, confused at first and then they tried to approach the Villain again. The shock had left the Villain now, and anger began brewing anew within their veins. "Don't you dare take another step to me," they seethed. Between the blurred vision and the anger and panic buzzing in their body, the villain didn't notice the hero's expression darken. They didn't notice the change in the hero as the reality of the Supervillain's death settled in. What would they do now? Their home was wrecked and their one true friend was gone and-

The villain was forced to look up, their face being held in the sharp claws of their enemy. They couldn't help the choked-up sob as the Hero kneeled down to meet them on the ground. All the kindness in their eyes disappeared, replaced with the cruelty the villain had seen during the making of this destruction.

"Get yourself together, Ok?" The Hero's voice was low. Quiet, and yet, the Villain could still feel the goosebumps rise on their arms and the hair on the back of their neck rise. They tried to get themselves together, through their trembling hands and relentless tears and all. "You're ok," the hero told them, and the villain could only nod yes. "You'll be fine with me, if not better." The soft voice did nothing to hide the threat.

The Hero's nails dug into their cheeks, a subtle warning before they stood up. "See?" the hero sighed, and rested their hand on the villain's shoulder. "Come on, let's go see the rest of my team. We'll get you back in the base and into the right shape." The villain bit their lips to hold back another outburst and nodded. As the hero led them out of the rubble, they couldn't help but look back. Their home was gone now. What safety existed has been destroyed. Where would they go now?

aaaa not the proudest of this honestly. Maybe I'll rewrite it someday? Anyway, I'm starting to get back into writing after, what? 2 years? This snippet is honestly not the best work but.. hopefully, by the end of October, I develop into a better writer? Idk, we'll find out

[jumpywhumpywriter]

When Morally-Gray Meets Morally-Good

Warnings: violence, several hero whumpers, villain whumpee, torture, blood, betrayal

Sidekick attacked with vicious intent, landing crushing blows on Villain's cowering, bloodied form while Lead Hero watched on approvingly, encouraging it. Second Hero stood close by as well, though she wasn't enjoying witnessing the beating as much as Lead Hero seemed to.

It wasn't fair; Villain's hands were left uncuffed but he was on the ground as Sidekick attacked mercilessly on his defenseless figure while he screamed and wailed in pain, begged for mercy. There was no point to it; it was violence for the sake of violence, in Second Hero's opinion. Revolting.

Lead Hero had claimed it would give Sidekick some battle experience, help him to be a future hero... but the brutal beating Second Hero was witnessing was no training session.

Second Hero kept waiting expectantly for Lead Hero to call Sidekick off the victimized Villain, put an end to the cruel game, but he never said anything, just watching without intervening as Sidekick beat the life out of Villain with blow after blow. Blood painted the tiled floor in smears and spatters, like some horrible form of art.

Villain's agonized shrieks rattled in Second Hero's head, and she shifted anxiously on her feet, knowing the awful sounds would haunt her dreams for weeks. She was shy and timid, and it took a good amount of effort for her to muster the courage to speak.

Second Hero cleared her throat gruffly to snatch her leader's attention.

"Aren't you going to stop them?" She said pointedly, gesturing at Sidekick.

Lead Hero laughed impassively, giving her a surprised look. "Why? Sidekick is getting the opportunity to hone his skills on a real target. It's good practice."

"Sidekick is going to kill them if he keeps it up," Second Hero said in a clipped tone. She was usually the quietest team member, a person of very few words, the one who always stayed out of arguments. Hardly ever even used their voice. But her leader's actions were troubling her deeply.

Lead Hero shrugged, pulling something out of his pocket that she realized was a large pocket knife. He tossed it carelessly to Sidekick.

"Now's a good time to test out your weapon training," Lead Hero called out to him. "Remember what I showed you about the proper ways to hold a blade. Make me proud."

Sidekick grinned viciously, eager to please before turning back to Villain, who was crumpled in a bloody, groaning heap on the ground.

Villain's swollen, bloodshot eyes instantly flicked to the blade as Sidekick advanced on him again, and they went huge with pure terror. He tried and failed to push himself up with his restrained arms, trying desperately to scoot away, or get to his feet and flee. He was slipping on his own blood that pooled on the tiled floor beneath him, and couldn't coordinate his mangled legs, trembling and shaking all over.

Sidekick slunk toward him with predatory grace, a bloodthirsty grin on his face at how Villain recoiled and shrunk away from him, cowering pressed up against far wall with nowhere to go, cornered

"That's enough," Second Hero said suddenly, stepping forward. "We are supposed to be heroes -- not murderers."

Lead Hero rolled his eyes. "What's the big deal? They're a villain anyway. No one cares what happens to them."

"That doesn't give us a right to kick a man when he's down."

"They would." Lead Hero sneered, glaring hatefully at Villain's broken form.

Second Hero's blood went cold at that, her gut twisting with disgust and disbelief. How could the man she looked up to as leader be so heartless? This was a side of him she'd rarely seen.

"I said that's enough," Second Hero raised her voice, scared but for once standing her ground as Lead Hero finally swiveled to give her his full attention, one eyebrow raised in annoyance. Villain's screams pierced the background as Sidekick launched into another vicious attack with the knife while Lead Hero and Second Hero stared intensely at each other for several beats, the charged tension between them snapping taut like a rubber band...

"If you don't stop this, I will," Second Hero growled, her tone filled with grim resolve.

"Don't you dare even think about--" Lead Hero never got to finish his threat.

Second Hero's eyes went dark as she spun back toward Sidekick, who was standing over Villain with the blade to his throat, about to deal the final blow.

"...This 'training session' is over." Second Hero's hand twitched, and a shadow wolf came streaking out of a corner, running up and sinking its teeth straight into Sidekick's forearm with a snarl.

Sidekick screamed in pain and jerked back, yanking his arm out of the wolf's jaws in a mess of ripped flesh.

The injury was sizzling and smoking, the shadows burning hot as they touched him.

"WHAT IN THE--" Sidekick's furious roar was cut short by another wail as a second wolf appeared, streaming darkness and shadows from its fur, that latched onto his ankle, dragging him away from Villain.

"Second Hero, stop!" Lead Hero boomed angrily.

Second Hero flinched, but didn't let up until her wolves had dragged Sidekick to the door, dropping him ungracefully before coming to flank Second Hero as she firmly planted herself between Villain and the two people she once considered her closest friends. It was a terrifying sight, of Second Hero wreathed in dark tendrils of black smoke she could bend to her will with two deadly predators at her sides.

"Enough pain, enough torture," Second Hero croaked, her voice cracking as she glanced behind her at Villain's shivering form curled up on the floor in a puddle of blood. "You're taking it too far..."

"I know what I'm doing," Lead Hero snapped harshly, fuming at her intervention. "How DARE you attack Sidekick! You're on the same team!"

Second Hero shook her head. "No. We're not. Not after what I just witnessed '

"I never took you as being queasy," Lead Hero scoffed in disbelief. His eyes started to glow with power -- fire powers, Second Hero knew -- but she wouldn't give him a chance to use them on her. She wouldn’t let him overpower her.

She flung her hands out in front of her with a shout, and the two wolves streaked forward in perfect unison, lunging at Lead Hero and dragging him to the ground.

Lead Hero struggled fiercely, slashing at the wolves with a blade he whipped out, but the blade passed right through them, because how can you fight something as intangible as darkness itself?

One wolf snapped its teeth down on his wrist, and Lead Hero screamed as his flesh burned at all the points of contact, making him drop the weapon. The other wolf placed its massive front paws on Lead Hero's chest, baring its teeth with ears pinned back as it held him down.

Lead Hero's wide eyes flicked over to Second Hero, who averted her gaze guiltily. It looked like her leader was finally realizing just how serious she was.

Second Hero was used to being looked down upon for her constant silence, her hesitancy to argue against friends or allies. But that also led people to frequently underestimate her. Because while Lead Hero was indeed leader of the team, with one of the strongest superpowers of them all... Second Hero was stronger, when she wanted to be. Lead Hero often forgot that about her, how truly dangerous she could be in the rare moments her anger spiked from submission into aggression.

"You'll pay for this," Lead Hero barked hatefully. He hated that she'd gotten the upper hand so easily, taken him down with barely any effort. It was outright humiliating.

The wolf standing on his chest snarled loudly, and Lead Hero's mouth instantly clicked shut, as he stared up into the amber eyes shrouded by shadows.

Second Hero shook her head sadly. "Always so reliant on force and threats to get your way," she said flatly. "If you learned a little compassion, you'd be an even greater hero."

"That's what makes you weak," Lead Hero spat, finding his voice again despite the menacing beast pinning him down. "You're too soft-hearted to be a hero. Can't get anything done."

"Oh, I can get plenty done," Second Hero retorted. "And the fact that I don't need to resort to violence to do that says a lot about your incompetence, despite your boasting."

That seemed to leave Lead Hero speechless, his mouth flapping as he tried to speak.

Second Hero turned away from him, coming over and crouching down in front of the huddled villain, who instinctively raised an arm defensively to block whatever blow he anticipated.

Second Hero gently grabbed the arm and lowered it to get a look at Villain's bashed face. His eyes were swollen, leaking tears of pure pain down his cheeks, and she could see him fighting winces as the salt from them ran over the open wounds on his skin. Blood streamed steadily from his badly broken nose, flooding down his chin to drip into his lap.

"T-Thank you," Villain wheezed in a raspy voice that was hoarse from screaming.

"I'm sorry I didn't step in sooner," Second Hero said softly. The damage was nauseating to look at. She slipped an arm behind Villain's back, carefully helping him to his feet. But he almost immediately collapsed, slumping against her with a weak moan, and she tightened her grip to keep him from falling.

Second Hero slung one of Villain’s arms over her shoulder to hold him up, practically dragging him toward the door to get him medical help.

"You traitor!" Lead Hero snarled, and started struggling harder under the massive shadow wolf pinning him as she walked past with Villain. “Villain is a monster, he doesn't deserve your sympathy!”

Second Hero paused, casting him a cold, dark glance, and when she spoke, her voice was deadpan, devoid of all emotion. “...And neither do you.”

Suddenly, one of her shadow wolves sank its fangs into his calf, and he shrieked in agony as it viciously shook its head before letting go.

“That injury will prevent you from walking far. Don't try to follow me.” Second Hero turned her face away, and the two wolves backed off from Team Leader and Sidekick, fading into wisps of black smoke.

“Consider this my resignation,” she tossed over her shoulder, and then she was gone, taking Villain with her.

Masterlist

@lumpofsand

@isikedmyself878

@scoundrelwithboba

@iamheretohurt

[thekittyburger]

One of my favorite tropes has got to be a sick villain waking up on the hero's couch, initially calm with the knowledge they're comfortable and being looked after, until they try and move and find their hands cuffed above them

[whumpwillow]

Okay but think of a villain, madly in love with his hero. So much so that he was changing his evil ways and becoming a better person and feeling genuine joy after so many years of pain and loneliness. He was reluctant at first but now the hero’s arms are the only place he feels completely safe in.

But to the hero it was only a plan to have him under control. And when they get what they want they just give him up to the authorities, betrayed, alone, possibly badly mistreated in prison. And he just stares, taking the kicks and punches without saying a word. Because of course that was bound to happen, he's a horrible criminal

Bonus if eventually hero regrets it and misses him and goes to save him but he already seems so broken

bestie that’s literally so mean

[whump-place]

When Whumpee has to be the bad guy, the villain in the eyes of society but that is in reality protecting everyone from a greatest evil.

They are the villain, they have destroyed schools, killed 'innocent' people, but finally, after being the villain for so long they achieved their goal and saved the world from the shadows.

The only problem is that Hero's team found them.

Whumpee is now held captive by a group of Whumpers that hate them, and that won't listen to their pleas and screams that everything was for a great good.

Whumpee is all alone, crying, in a special cell made just for them. The heroes doesn't have to be fair or civil with them, nobody pities a villain. They deserve it.

They deserve it.

[the-three-whumpeteers]

The whumpee knew that associating with someone like the villain would only bring them trouble, but they would’ve never expected to be treated like a lesser being. The heroes had captured the whumpee to interrogate them about the villain, and many members were not above torturing the information out of them. A lot of the times, the whumpee didn’t even know the answers to the questions they were being asked, but none of the heroes believed them.