#Whump that isn’t hero villain whump

[chaotic-orphan]

Merry Whump of May, Day 31:

“Thin ice” : lighter // chronic pain // dead ends

Okay look, is it long? Yes, but does it make up for not doing the entire Merry Whump of May? Absolutely. This is all you’re getting, and if you are inconsolable as to why, we’ll it’s the last day of May, okay, enjoooyyy

*~*~*~*~*

It was early. Too early to be awake, but somehow Whumpee was reaching for their phone that was blaring their call sound and put it to their ear, mumbling a tired: “hello?”

“Hello Whumpee.”

Whumpee was out of bed at the voice. His voice. Bare feet padding on hard wood floor, and looking around their room for any sign of an intruder. Their heart pounding against their chest, suddenly wide, wide awake.

“I’m sorry, did I wake you? My apologies.”

The phone was shaking in their hand, though they made their voice hard as they said: “I’m hanging up.”

A deep, reverberating laugh from the other end of the phone and Whumpee’s hand stopped shaking as ice flooded through their veins, sticking them to the floor, a shiver running up their spine.

“I have missed you, and your little adorable rebellious spirit.”

“Give me one fucking reason why—“

“And I see you’ve fallen back into bad habits in my absence. That just won’t do, Whumpee…” Whumper sighed and Whumpee had to stop the apology threatening to fall from their lips.

“How did you get my number?”

“I think the real question you should be asking yourself is how did I get your address?” Whumpee threw themselves at the window, grabbing the curtain in their hand and tearing it open. Eyes scanning left and right down their street and seeing no one. “No. Try again.”

Whumpee hung up, dropping the phone on their bed and listened. They put their ears to the floor, listening for any creaks, any sound. Breathing, anything. They jumped as the phone started ringing again and they just stared at it, breath coming out in short panicked gasps and fuck they were having a panic attack. Over a ringtone.

Whumpee reached with trembling fingers and answered the phone to a very pissed Whumper.

“Whumpee, Whumpee, why do you vex me so?” Whumper was singing down the phone gleefully and it made Whumpee want to scream. Whumpee walked to their door and opened it, peeking their head down the hall to the rest of their apartment.

If Whumper was here they would have heard his singing. Which meant Whumpee could breathe in peace for a few merciful moments.

“You’re not here,” said Whumpee, and then they listened again, quiet. Waiting.

Go on you bastard, call my bluff. Prove me wrong.

Whumpee could practically hear the smile at the end of the phone as Whumper said: “okay. Maybe I’m not, but I bet I made you poop your pants just a little bit.”

“You fucking sadist.”

“Watch your language, Whumpee. You’re on thin ice already, do you want that ice to break? I can pay you a personal visit if you keep testing my patience.”

“No!” Whumpee said, a little too quickly and Whumper chuckled again lightly on the other end of the phone.

“Good. So now that I have your attention… tell me. Did a little bit of pee come out?”

“I’m hanging up.”

“Oh Whumpee. So difficult. And after I went through the trouble of leaving a gift for you. It should be at your door. Go fetch it for me first and open it on call, then feel free to hang up, Whumpee.”

Whumpee’s ribs felt like they were caving in on their lungs as their eyes zeroed in on their front door. They walked down the half staircase of the loft and walked to the door.

A voice in their head criticising them for still obeying Whumper but they had to know. Had to know if they were there this morning. Had to know if they actually knew their address.

Whumpee’s hand reached up to the lock, then hesitated. What if this was just a trap? They’d open the door and Whumper would be waiting there in a blind spot.

“How do I know this isn’t a trap?” Whumpee demanded and Whumper chuckled lightly.

“It’s not a trap. Why, you hesitating at the door like a little coward, Whumpee?”

Whumpee huffed out a breath and hated that Whumper still knew them so well. That they didn’t change since their time in Whumper’s care. That no matter how much they wanted to think they moved on, they were still trapped in the past with Whumper’s name stamped all over their skin.

So Whumpee opened the door, and poked their head out, looking left and right and seeing no one. Then they stepped out and looked over the railing to the car park and found nobody waiting. They finally set their eyes on the small box waiting outside their door and picked it up, walking back inside and locking their door.

“You have it yet? The anticipation is killing me.”

“Yeah,” said Whumpee, voice cracking. “I have it.”

“Well come on now, don’t leave me in suspense. The card first whumpee.”

And still Whumpee obeyed and tore the card away from the parcel, putting the phone on speaker phone and laying it on the table. Whumpee pulled the card from the envelope and saw a teddy bear looking sad reading: “Sorry for your loss,” in cursive letters.

Whumpee opened it and saw just an address inside. The inner card reading: “Here for you whenever you need me.”

“I’m not going to this address,” said Whumpee putting the card down and picking up the parcel.

“Well, not to make you eat your words, Whumpee but— are you opening the package? Oh good. I won’t spoil it the fun, keep going.”

Something heavy fell out of the package, hitting the carpet floor with a dull thud but Whumpee didn’t pay attention to that. Instead they stared at the photograph in their hand and they wanted to get sick.

It was Caretaker. Tied to a chair, arms behind their back head hung low and blood… so… so much blood and Whumpee wanted to cry and curse and scream. They said they got out. They said Whumper would never know. The idiot.

“What was that? You’re never coming to the address? Should I put Caretaker out of their misery then or?”

“No!” Whumpee said too quickly and shut their eyes. Realising too late their mistake. Their display of emotion. Pathetic. Stupid.

Whumper just laughed down the phone. “Good. I should see you soon then? Let’s say, twenty minutes? If I hear a siren, Whumpee, I’ll make sure Caretaker knows that it was your fault they have to die.”

“Whumper, wait. Twenty minutes isn’t enough time for me to—“

“Well how about you make it happen, Whumpee? A little incentive for you, every minute you’re late, is another cut for Caretaker hmm? How about that?”

“You fucking—“

“Do you really want to waste time with that foul language?” Whumpee hung up and resisted the urge to throw their phone at the wall. They ran upstairs, pulling on a hoodie and a grey tracksuit and their runners before rushing downstairs again and grabbing their keys.

They unlocked the door, eyes going back to the table where they left their phone. Then the shiny metal on the ground below it. It was a lighter. It was Caretaker’s lighter. Their heart broke a bit but the took the lighter with them and ran out the door, not bothering to lock it.

They’d get Caretaker free.

Just like Caretaker did for them all those months ago.

Whumpee expected to pull up outside a deserted industrial park where a single lone warehouse waited for them and Whumper watched their every move.

They didn’t expect to pull up to the poshest hotel in the city and have a valet take their car to the parking lot, handing them a ticket in return for their keys. Whumpee didn’t have time to question it, as they ran into the lobby looking for Whumper. They still had a few minutes. Surely, surely.

Two security guards with a sign in their hands reading: “Guest of Whumper” had all sorts of bad news written all over it. For one, the two security guards were twice as tall as Whumpee and twice as broad. They were also wearing ear pieces which they just knew were on a constant live feedback loop to Whumper.

Whumpee wanted to hesitate. To run the other way. To grab their car and go and never look back, but they didn’t have the time. Which is exactly what Whumper wanted. They wanted Whumpee panicked and acting rashly because that was easier to control.

So instead of running Whumpee walked over to the security guards and handed themselves over. “Your name?” One of them asked and Whumpee told them.

The guards nodded, then moved. One stepping in front of Whumpee and extending a hand to the elevator. “Right this way, Whumpee.”

When they got into the lift, Whumpee’s nerves flared up again and they got the sudden urge to run. All that energy stored in their legs, adrenaline pumping going nowhere… it would exhaust them before they even got to the danger.

One of the guards put a key into the lift’s door panel, and keyed in a code and all Whumpee’s best laid plans turned to dust right before their eyes. Their plan of getting in, outwitting Whumper and running into the sunset with Caretaker all dashed by a simple fucking key and an elevator that was taking them God knows where.

Instead of going up or down, the lift moved backwards and then up, and Whumpee swallowed hard, putting their shaking hands deep into their hoodie pockets. To at least hide how much they were shaking.

“We have been instructed to…” one of the guards began, then coughed slightly, almost embarrassed. Whumpee looked up to see the hulking brute blushing at the command they had been given to follow. It was the strangest thing Whumpee had ever seen, and they’ve seen everything that should have been buried in Whumper’s dark, dark imagination.

The other guard took up the slack, and said: “we were instructed to give you these. Our boss said you’d know what to do.”

Whumpee looked over their shoulder at the other guard who held up a pair of pink, fluffy handcuffs and Whumpee rolled their eyes, staring forward again.

“I’m not putting those on.”

“I don’t blame you,” said the first guard, which prompted the second to elbow the first.

“The boss said you had to.”

“Well the boss doesn’t pay my salary,” said Whumpee matter of factly. “So there is no way I am putting those stupid things on.”

“He doesn’t pay you?” the first guard asked. “That’s rough.”

“Ron!” the second guard cried. “You’re not supposed to chat this much.”

“What the boss doesn’t know won’t hurt him,” said Ron and Whumpee found themselves leaning towards liking the tall, strong security guard with morals.

“And when he finds out we haven’t carried out his orders to the letter guess who’s wages get cut?”

Whumpee’s heart dropped as they heard Ron sigh. “Ah shit. Sorry kid, but my daughter wants to go to college. Can you put them on?”

“No,” said Whumpee and prayed that the doors would open mercifully so Whumpee could flee the slowly shrinking metal cage that they were currently trapped in.

“Easy way or hard way, last chance to do it nicely,” the second guard said, warning and intent colouring their voice cold and still whumpee refused to play ball.

“Kid… there is literally no room to fight or flight right now, and I don’t want to get blood on my suit, so please? Put your hands behind your back. We’ll put them on loose, I promise,” and just because Ron said it so nicely Whumpee put their hands behind their back and fought the flinch at the sound of the handcuffs clacking on. They pulled their wrists apart, testing the metal, and swallowed when they realised there was barely an inch of give on each side.

The doors dinged and opened and Whumpee wanted to scream. If they just held out for five more seconds, they would have had control of their arms.

“Go on kid,” said Ron with a gentle push, and Whumpee let themselves be pushed. The other guard stayed in the lift while Ron escorted whumpee through the mansion hidden inside a hotel. That way it wasn’t like they were knowingly walking into the lion’s den. It was like it was against their will.

Whumpee didn’t even take in the extravagant decor or the winding halls they travelled before stopping in front of a black door. Of course the door was black. It was Whumper, of course the door was black.

“I was told to knock twice then leave,” said Ron and Whumpee nodded. Ron raised their fist to the door and stopped before knocking. “Hey, something’s not sitting right with me, so if you need the code for the lift it’s 7839, but you’ll need a key as well, I just…”

“It’s okay,” Whumpee nodded, committing the number to memory. “Thanks for that.”

“Yeah,” said Ron and then knocked twice. “Okay. Good luck.”

They needed a key. Whumpee needed a key to open the keypad and put in the code to freedom which they knew Whumper would never give them. Even if they somehow managed to grab it from Whumper, with their hands behind their back, they didn’t know which halls led to freedom and which one’s led Whumpee back to dead ends.

Whumpee steeled themselves as best they could.

Then the door opened.

*~*~*~*~*

@themerrywhumpofmay for the second and final time, your prompts were delightful, thank you for sharing them

[stillboredman]

Thought / Prompt

CW: torture and angst, my love.

I need to see a character who successfully withstands / escapes brutal, and I mean brutal, torture…

Only to be questioned by their own team.

I mean, “No one could have stayed strong through that. What did you tell them? Not nothing, don’t give me that bullshit answer again. We need to know what they know - and stop fucking crying, this isn’t about you and your goddamn pride. Just be honest. Like, fuck, do you want this to become an official interrogation? Cause for Christ’s sake, Ethan, I don’t want to hurt you, but I will. What did you TELL THEM?”

There’s just. Something so terrible.

About being in the hands of your friends, being safe again.

Just for the people you love to rip it all away.

[deckofaces]

Wrong Thoughts, Dead Values

Tw: whump, corrupt agency, assumed dead hero, arguing, cursing, cuffs, overall grim atmosphere

part one || continued from this post

“Let them put the cuffs on..” Leader whispered. Their fists were clenched in anger but their voice remained steady and calm. Their outburst could get their whole team in worse trouble. They had to push away their anger, they were the leader, their team’s safety came first. 

Guilt rose up in their chest. Their situation, this whole situation was already screwed up in more ways than one. They let their emotions take hold at the completely wrong time. Despite all the emotions swirling around inside their head, their face looked neutral and they relaxed their hands. They couldn’t afford another outburst. Not when the odds looked bad already.

Leader took a couple deep breaths. They did their best to shove their anger deep down far far away where they could no longer reach. It would be fine. It had to be fine. They would talk to Supervisor calmly, they couldn’t afford to screw up anymore. Their previous mistake already brought unwanted consequences, they felt horrible for it.

Speaking of consequences, the cuffs they were going to be forced to wear were not normal handcuffs. A chain did not connect on each side. Rather, they were a piece of tech that looked like a tight metal bracelet for each wrist. It slowly injected a serum that quickly blocked the powers of supers.

They looked over at Fighter and saw they stopped pulling away from the officer. They visibly tensed when their arm had been grabbed.  They heard an audible snap as a cuff closed onto each wrist. 

Teammate swayed a bit on their feet, chewing on their bottom lip. They did not want to but they also reluctantly let the officer do the same to them as they did to Fighter. They held back tears, they were all quite literally powerless in Supervisor’s office now. The cuffs were power suppressants. 

Leader had been the last to feel the cool metal touch their skin, they shivered as they no longer noticed their magic flowing through their body. They felt empty like that, as though they were missing a piece of them now. The rest of the team felt quite similar, the cuffs made the air in the room shift to encompass a sense of disheartenment.

“Precautionary my ass..” Fighter muttered under their breath, subconsciously picking at their wrists.

“Excuse me?” Supervisor snapped at them. “Do we have an issue? Or are you going to follow your captain’s footsteps and cause a disruption in my office?”

Fighter glanced at Leader who shook their head in response. They looked back at Supervisor with a scowl on their face while they reluctantly answered. “No. There will be no issues from me.”

“Good good,” Supervisor said calmly, which only seemed more infuriating to the group. “Now what was so urgent that you were willing to cause such a disturbance?” They folded their hands on their desk, eyes narrowing at Leader while they spoke.

Leader took another deep breath after Supervisor’s stare. They fidgeted with the soft fabric of their shirt, they knew bringing up Hero almost guaranteed another “disturbance” in their words. But they still found that the words came flowing out of their mouth anyways. They had no choice, they were given almost no information. “Why wasn’t Hero safely back at the van like the order on our watches said?”

“They were nowhere to be seen..” Teammate hesitantly added. They were looking at the ground, they couldn’t meet the higher-up’s eyes.

“Were they even ever at the van?” Fighter accused. Unlike Teammate, they were glaring full on at their boss.

“We lost their vitals on their watch. We assume Hero is dead. We have not found a body but their vitals showed nothing to suggest they are alive,” Supervisor answered simply. 

Leader choked on a sob. They looked up and saw Teammate blinking back tears and Fighter appeared as if they might strangle their supervisor. 

Leader had a whole new wave of questions, their answer only added to their growing pile of concerns. 

“Why would- why would you say they were safe? We could have gone back and helped them! We could have- they could have been standing here with us right now! And then we wouldn’t be having this conversation!” Leader sputtered, tears were starting to fill their eyes too. Their hold on their plan to stay calm started to quickly slip away.

“You and your team’s safety became more important at the time. Villain is a high ranking villain and can cause a lot of damage. Hero made a mistake and got too close too quickly. We had to evacuate everyone after we lost contact with them,” Supervisor explained. 

Teammate flinched when Fighter slammed their hands down on their wooden desk. “You are saying Hero’s safety became irrelevant as soon as you lost contact with them? That they are disposable as soon as they made a mistake?!”

“You twisted my words. Step away from my desk please,” Supervisor said.

Fighter didn’t step away, rather they leaned closer to their boss. Leader or Teammate didn’t try to stop them, they were voicing both of their concerns for them. “Have you bothered to search for our friend’s body? Have you talked to their family? Or have you already given up because you all are cowards who have lost all sight in the values of this institution? Hero might be dead so you have zero hope at all that they could be alive? That their-“

“Step away from my desk or the officer will escort all of you out of this room!” Supervisor shouted, interrupting Fighter. 

Leader put a hand on Fighter’s shoulder and gently guided them back so they could stand in front of the desk. “Supervisor, their watch could have just been destroyed. If no one is available to search for Hero, let us.” Leader wiped their eyes, they could only pray and have hope that their boss was wrong and Hero was alive.

Supervisor shook their head, standing up from their cushioned swivel chair. “Absolutely not. It is too dangerous and they are likely dead. You are under no circumstances allowed to search for Hero. There will be a service for them later this week.”

“No!” Leader sounded more desperate this time. “There could be a chance that they are alive, out there somewhere, maybe even in trouble! Please let us search! We are a hero team, we need them!” They could not give up so easily, Leader refused to let that happen. They were responsible for their whole team. They would do whatever it took to get their friend back.

“My word is final,” Supervisor stated. They walked over to the door and opened it. They whispered to the officer before addressing the team that scattered their office. “This officer will take you back to your room. Despite my request, you all still created a scene in my office. Your cuffs will stay on until tomorrow morning. Goodbye.”

They all started to protest but the officer ushered them out of the office. They begrudgingly let themselves be escorted back to their room. It could have gone worse but it also could have gone a million times better than it had. 

…

Leader sat down on their bed when they arrived at their shared room at last. Fighter and Teammate sat across from them. 

“That was such bullshit!” Fighter threw their hands in the air. “As if those fuckers even care.”

Teammate nodded in agreement. “Yeah.. I’m sorry I didn’t say much-“ They looked down at their hands. “That whole argument and situation was so screwed up.. all of it..”

Fighter rubbed their back. “It’s okay, don’t worry about it,” Leader said, sighing. “I don’t think it could have gone any better. They’ve been that stubborn as long as I’ve been here.” But it didn’t make it any less disappointing and frustrating.

Leader groaned as they thought more about the whole argument. “I still think Hero is alive somewhere. From what I could find on a handful of news articles, Villain is a stupidly proud person. They always leave the bodies of the poor victims they’ve killed before disappearing back to where their base is. I want to find Hero, I have to find them- I- if this is right, I think they are still alive- I need to find them..“

Teammate reached over and held Leader’s hand. Their captain stopped talking, they didn’t even realize they had gone into such a panicked tangent. They blinked a few times, their free hand felt their quilt on the bed, regaining stability. 

A tear ran down Leader’s face. “I’m sorry- I didn’t mean to ramble like that-“

Fighter interrupted them. “Hey, it’s alright. We are all upset. We will find them. If you think I want to listen to Supervisor, you are completely wrong.”

————

Tags: @justalittlecorrupted, @onlywhump, @laffy-taffy-creations, @rainy-knights-of-villany

Next part

[hey-that-hurt]

I’d make such a good villain. Controlling the heroes is easy. Literally just take a hostage, ideally multiple. It’s best if the hostages are important to your hero, but not crucial.

Once you have your hostages, make sure to secure them such that they can’t be dramatically removed from danger by a well-placed energy beam knocking the gun from your hand or anything of that sort. Distance yourself, and secure your position. Anchor yourself against the hostage for support, or perhaps hold your hostage(s) behind a window or other barrier. Perhaps the best option is to keep your hostages in an undisclosed location live-streamed to the hero.

Once your leverage has been secured such that no clever heroic rescues will be happening, you can start wielding it. Don’t let them stall, get right to making them surrender. Hurt one of the hostages if needed to get the point across.

Once you’ve secured your hero, the hostages aren’t quite as necessary but they may still prove useful. Do with them what you will.

Now that you’ve acquired a hero, the possibilities are endless! There’s benefit from simply removing them as an obstacle of course, but you can always make them suffer for ever daring to stand in your way.

[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?”

[0vinosparv]

Please don’t fantasize abuse

If you’ve been around the hero x villain tag long enough, you’ve most likely stumbled across whump prompts. Whump is not my cup of tea, personally I find it hard to read, but if its done RIGHT, then I’ll have no problem in reading it.

But for the love of GOD, don’t think that Whumpee getting their ass beat day and night by Whumper is “hot”.

Not trying to be the fun police, but when I saw somebody tag “kinky” underneath some effed up whump writing prompts about whumpee getting absolutely trashed with metal objects, I lost a piece of my soul.

Some lunatic shoving a knife in your chest is not kinky, being forced into submission isn’t kinky, and getting beaten to death isn’t kinky.

If you have a problem with what I’m debating, please hop off the internet and reconnect with nature, take a shower, get a therapist, do something.

Thank you.

[maybeitsalivescribbles]

DAY 14: Toys/gifts

“No !” yelped Grandchild, their head buried into their pillow. “I don’t want to hear a word from you.”

Retired Superhero closed the door, sat on a chair, and asked:

“Why?”

“Because! I know what you’re going to say!”

Grandchild sat up and exclaimed, throwing their arms around:

“In my time, I was the greatest hero with the greatest power! In my time, young people had to grit their teeth and carry on! In my time, kids with superpowers knew how to control themselves and-”

Their breath hitched, and they hiccuped:

“A-and- didn't throw their teacher around and sent her to the hospital-”

Their lip wobbled a bit, and they began to cry. Retired Superhero hummed, and opened his arms, but Grandchild recoiled. Their grandfather was always looking so solemn and intimidating in their dark suit. The only touch of color was the non-binary pin that he’d put on since the day they had made their coming out. The old man coughed a little, then searched his pockets to retrieve a small package.

“It’s for you.”

Grandchild hesitated, but curiosity got the better of them. They opened their gift, revealing a wooden box, with a carved rabbit on the top.

“You give me...a toy?”

“It’s an old toy,” said Retired Superhero. “My grandpa gave it to me when I was about your age. You see, he hadn't telekinesis like us. He could take powers away.”

He pursed his lips:

“I had trouble to master my abilities, too, so he gave me that little rabbit. I could store my energy away in the box, until the time I was sure I could control it for good. You’re the only person who can give it away and give it back, at any time you want. It can’t be stolen.”

Grandchild looked at the box, at their grandpa, then asked:

“B-But- isn’t that cheating? Ain’t I supposed to control my power on my own? Aren’t you the one who said that willpower is the greatest power of all?”

“I still think so,” smiled Retired Superhero. “But even the greatest power can’t do everything on its own, just like a powerful person can’t do everything by oneself. Sometimes, things need a little... help.”

Grandchild didn’t answer anything, but this time, they initiated the hug.

*

Back to the Hero x Villain Masterlist

Whump/Horror Masterlist

[whump-and-other-misfortunes]

Whumpuary 2024 Day 1

1. (Jan 01-02) Captivity / Snow / Secret Revealed

cw physical whump/injury, whumper turned caretaker, captive whumpee 

Villain glowered at the struggling captive at their feet. “Well, isn’t this something. When Supervillain said they had a present for me, I was shocked enough as it was. Imagine my surprise when I found out they had managed to capture the pesky little snitch who’s been mucking up all my plans. Selling my information to Superhero and almost getting me caught at that jewel heist last week.” 

A weak noise of protest came from their enemy, likely muffled behind a gag. There was a cloth bag over their head, concealing their identity, and their hands were bound behind their back. It was an exhilarating sight to finally have them kneeling at Villain’s feet, completely at their mercy. 

“What was that?” Villain taunted when they attempted to talk around the gag. “You’ll have to speak up, sweetheart. I’m busy thinking of all the fun I'm going to have with you.” 

They kicked the hero sharply in the side, knocking them onto the ground. With their hands tied behind their back, they had no way of catching themself and their head smacked into the concrete, followed by a choked noise of pain. The hero curled in on themself when Villain’s foot connected with their stomach. It felt so unbelievably good to finally let out their anger on this nuisance who had been giving them so much trouble. 

Villain knelt beside them, grabbing onto the hood that concealed their enemy’s identity. “Now,” they drawled, “let’s see who’s under here. I want to see the fear in your eyes and watch you cry while I teach you a lesson.” 

They pulled the hood off and felt their blood run cold. A familiar pair of eyes blinked up at them, teary and full of betrayal. “Hero?” they asked in disbelief. 

Hero whined, flinching away when Villain hurried to remove the gag. There was a nasty bruise forming on one cheekbone and dried blood under their nose—clearly Supervillain had already had a turn with them before dropping them off at Villain’s lair. 

“Oh my god, Hero, I’m so sorry,” they apologized, hands shaking as they helped the other sit up. Thank God Villain hadn’t gotten any farther. “What’s going on?” 

Hero sniffed, looking up at Villain with a mix of hurt and anger. “You were about to beat the fuck out of me, that’s what’s going on.” 

“No—no, I…” Villain focused on untying Hero’s hands—if they ended up punching Villain once they were free, well, Villain knew they deserved it. “Supervillain told me they had caught the person who’d been selling me out to Superhero. I—I had no idea who they were bringing me.” 

“Supervillain is a filthy liar and an opportunist, don’t you know that by now?” Hero said, rubbing their wrists once Villain finally undid the rope. They hissed in pain, glaring at the angry red marks on their skin. 

Villain pushed their hair back gently, inspecting for damage where Hero’s head had hit the ground. Luckily, it didn’t look too bad—they'd probably just be sore for a bit. “So you’re not the one who’s been selling my info?” 

“You think I would?” Hero asked earnestly, meeting the other’s gaze. “Of course it wasn’t me. It was Supervillain, you idiot.” 

Suddenly, the pieces all fell into place. Fuck, it was all so obvious—Villain really was an idiot, weren’t they? “They were trying to frame you—shift the blame off themself and get me to take you out at the same time.” 

“Two birds,” Hero agreed. 

“I’m going to kill them,” Villain growled, eyes darkening with rage. “I’m going to torture them slowly until they’re begging for my forgiveness and then I'm going to kill them.” 

Hero smirked and punched their arm halfheartedly. “I told you no killing, remember?” 

“Ugh, you’re no fun.” Villain sighed melodramatically. “…Is a little torture okay, though?” 

Hero rolled their eyes. “A tiny bit, I suppose. But can you take me home first? I’m so tired.” 

Villain frowned, cradling Hero’s face in their hands. “Yeah, of course,” they said, more quietly. “I'll take you home, and get you cleaned up and tucked into bed. I’m sorry about all this.” 

“Thank you.” They let Villain pull them into an embrace without protest. “Just make sure to give Supervillain my regards.” 

“Anything for you, Hero.” 

[hufflepuffwritingstuff2]

Okay so I remember a convo we had in call about loving writing wings but you dont usually write them cuz whump wings are usually amputation which you don't mess with, and I dont want whump in general soooooo what about:

Villain has wings, was tortured by supervillain, rescued by hero, still has their wings but they are in bad shape. So hero is helping a shy/withdrawn villain straighten them out, treat their wounds, etc, and then when they are done villain just quietly asks them not to stop touching them cuz it's really calming and they fall asleep ♡

Bonus points for:

-villain being touch starved

-villain blushing, hero calling them cute

Hi Crewe! I would be more than happy to write this for you! Thanks for requesting this, here you go! P.S. I’m sorry it’s so short, I’m not experienced in writing winged characters so I hope it’s okay!

Villain sat perched on an ottoman, while Hero entered the living room with a fresh roll of bandages. They sat behind Villain and examined their wings. Hero cleaned the blood off of Villain’s wing with a damp cloth, applying medicine to the wound then wrapping it in bandages. Villain’s breath suddenly hitched, and Hero quickly pulled away.

“Sorry, I’m trying to be gentle,” Hero said with a sympathetic wince.

“N-no, it isn’t that,” Villain admitted.

Hero tilted their head, puzzled. They started to preen Villain’s feathers for them, and the criminal practically melted into the touch.

“Villain?” Hero asked.

When they received no response, it clicked. Hero began to stroke Villain’s feathers softly, their touch light and gentle. After several minutes, Hero pulled their hand away.

“Don’t stop,” Villain pleaded quietly.

Hero smiled softly. They returned to stroking Villain’s feathers. Villain turned, revealing a blush decorating their features.

“You’re so cute when you’re blushing,” Hero remarked.

Villain’s blush deepened, hiding their face in their good wing. It was only when Villain’s eyes started to droop, and they began to sway on the ottoman did Hero stop petting their wings and circle around to face them.

“Getting sleepy?” Hero asked.

“Hm,” Villain hummed in response.

“Here, come with me.”

Hero took Villain by the hand and led them up to their bedroom. They arranged the pillows and blankets on the bed to accommodate Villain’s wings. They helped Villain climb into the nest.

“Well, uh, if you need anything… you know… just call for me…”

Hero went to leave, but Villain reached out for them weakly.

“Please stay,” they whispered.

Hero blinked, a light blush creeping into their features. Hero nodded mutely, climbing into bed with Villain. Villain covered them with their good wing and snuggled closer to them. Hero carded a hand through their hair until Villain drifted off. Hero made a mental note to destroy Supervillain the minute they got the chance.

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[sunnynwanda]

Hi, sorry to bother!

I’ve had this idea lately but I wondered if you would like to write it, feel free to ignore it if it doesn’t convince you btw

Pet hero whumpee but not the docile type of pet, more like superhero/supervillain has conditioned/deshumanized them to be like some sort of rabid, aggresive pet that attacks anyone who isn’t their “owner”

Maybe they’ve been missing for some time already and when villain (or any other character you want to) finds them, they worry about the fact that hero is attacking them and doesn’t seem to recognize them at all

I hope you’re having a nice day✨✨✨

Master

Warning: dehumanisation, conditioning, pet whump and everything that comes with it, mentions of physical and psychological abuse, graphic injuries, suffocation, blood, gore, murder. I have no idea how I wrote this. Please do not interact if any of those might be triggering for you.

The door opens with a taunting creak, the sound reverberates off the empty walls. Villain takes a tentative step in, glancing around for any traps. The apartment looks perfect in its apparent abandonment - not a thing out of place, no sign of a fight or kidnapping. Hero had been gone for a little over three months. Just like that, no traces left behind, no warnings - nothing. It's like they vanished into thin air. Evaporated. Villain didn't know why or where they went. They had no idea who to contact or what to do about Hero's sudden disappearance. The only thing Villain did know was they missed their nemesis. 

Oh, they missed Hero like crazy. 

They still recalled the brawl they had the day before. Villain was attempting to cause a riot in the city stadium for the fun of it; Hero had been their ordinary cheeky self as well. Nothing new to the usual scheme of things. They took turns delivering the blows and tumbled around a bit; Villain ended up restrained against a wall and accepted temporary defeat despite being capable of obliterating the entire stadium - Hero included - with a flick of their wrist. Both were accustomed to the game plan and felt no need to deviate. The next day, Villain seized a bank and demanded Hero's presence - per standard procedure.

Except, Hero never came. 

They robbed the bank despite not needing the money and departed in a sour mood because nothing was supposed to be of more importance than their battles. Villain expected Hero to return the next day and intended to make them apologise relentlessly for such disrespect.

Needless to say, that wish never came true. 

After a week of waiting in vain, Villain started suspecting something was off. They spent the following weeks in search of any clues to decipher Hero's mysterious disappearance, any clues that could lead them to Hero's whereabouts - to no avail. 

That is, until today. Villain pulls the letter out of the envelope and unfolds it. An invitation to Superhero's estate. Villain hums, scrunching their nose. That's the last place they want to go to, but at this point, they'll resort to anything to find Hero.

Little did they know that finding Hero would be the least of their concerns.  

Villain exits the apartment, making their way outside the city right away. A deep-set sense of anxiety pushes them forward, a feeling of urgency and despair. They can't comprehend what it is yet, the idea building in their subconscious mind, but they can tell it's bad. They can tell it's entirely vile.

Villain doesn't bother announcing their arrival, instead sneaking over the high fences and past the numerous guards. They walk into the manor, darting past the hounds that roam the first floor, and climb to the second floor, where Superhero's study is. Their hands shake with dreadful anticipation. 

Villain pushes the door open, and in the same instant, something lunges at them. Their first guess is that it's another dog, but the assumption soon proves untrue. The creature withdraws at the sound of a whistle, skipping back to the leg of its master.  

"Good boy," Superhero smiles, brushing Hero's hair the wrong way. Villain watches in shock as Hero turns their head to the side, leaning into the touch and licking Superhero's palm like a dog. 

"What the-" Villain breathes out, too stunned to form a coherent thought. They stare with widening eyes at whatever is left of their Hero as they rub their head against their owner's leg, looking for praise. But when their gaze lands on Villain, Hero's expression shifts to pure rage. They snarl, aggressive and aggravated. Villain's voice is barely audible behind their growls. "What have you done?" 

"Me? Nothing much," Superhero grins, hooking their fingers into Hero's collar and pulling at it harshly until Hero starts to choke. "I've taught them what they really are. What they deserve to be."  

"But why?" Villain glances at them, seeing insanity in Superhero's eyes. They look back at Hero's dehumanised form on all fours. Their back is arched in what Villain assumes is a defensive stance. Their mind is reeling, running a hundred miles an hour. They cannot grasp the situation in full yet, refusing to believe that the creature in front of them is indeed Hero. Their Hero. "W-why?" 

"Why, you ask?" Superhero drawls, fisting Hero's hair and tugging with brute force. Hero falls onto their back, letting out a whimpering whine. Villain turns away, unable to take the sight of them in such a state. "You think I haven't noticed the little play you two have devised? Your little game of back and forth?"

"What are you..." Villain starts, getting up from the floor. Hero jumps up, preparing to attack. Superhero zaps them with a shocker, sending their body back down with another loud whimper. "Stop! Please... For the love of God, stop!" Villain yells, their lips and hands trembling in desperation. 

"Hero failed. Their purpose was to defeat you. They could have done it months ago," Superhero explains, using their foot to prompt Hero's chin up. "They chose not to. They betrayed their pack, so they needed to learn how to be a good dog." 

Villain shudders at the impassive tone of their voice. "You've conditioned them into submission. You've turned them into an animal, you monster!" They spit out, their eyes flaring up with newfound rage. Their fingers curl into fists as they look around the room, trying to find a solution. An escape.  

"No, I've made him my pet. I'm a patient master," Superhero caresses Hero's cheek and rubs their ear, their touch looking almost soothing until their fingers squeeze, digging into the skin on Hero's chin. "Now, attack."

Hero switches into a fight mode with a snarl, their teeth glimmering white in the dim-lit room. Villain dodges the attack by jumping to the side and reaching out to take hold of Hero's head, prompting them to meet their gaze. 

"Hero, it's me!" Hero's pupils are dilated and empty. They seem incomprehensive. "Please, Hero, it's me, me..." Villain pleads, tears brimming their eyes. For a short moment, something seems to flicker behind Hero's gaze. But, Superhero blows their whistle, and Hero loses all sense of self again, attacking Villain with renewed vigour.  

"No, no, no," Villain tries their best to hold Hero back without hurting them. Their voice is thick with emotion when they speak again, struggling to contain Hero.

"Look at me! Please, just look at me..." Their expression is nothing short of begging, but Hero remains unaffected. With no other choice left, Villain grasps Hero's collar, hooking their belt through it and securing it. 

Hero is rabid against their leash, thrashing on the ground as Villain stands, facing Superhero. 

"No matter how far you take them, they'll always be my pet," Superhero hisses, crossing their arms over their chest with an unmistakable sense of victory. They are so confident in their conviction that they don't bother to arm themself.

"You still don't get it, do you?" Villain lets out a dark chuckle, but there's no humour behind it. "It's not them that betrayed the pack by refusing to defeat me. They could never defeat me in the first place. It was me. I'm the variable you didn't take into account," Villain growls through gritted teeth, taking a step towards Superhero and wrapping a hand around their forearm. "And I will burn you to ashes." 

Before Superhero can register it, their skin starts melting off their body, the tangy smell of burnt flesh filling the room. In mere seconds, Superhero's body hits the floor, their moaning sounding like music to Villain's ears as fire washes over them. Hero howls, tagging at their impromptu leash, but Villain remains unyielding. They kneel next to them, ripping the whistle off Superhero's neck, then wrap the belt around their knuckles, forcing Hero to their feet. Villain cups their cheeks, their fingers tender on Hero's clammy skin, and looks into their eyes in hopes of finding recognition - all they see instead is fear.

Primal, animalistic fear.

They gulp down the lump in their throat and blow the whistle, watching Hero's eyes light up in recognition of their new master. 

Villain knows it's going to be one hell of a journey to get their Hero back. They know it will take weeks, if not months, of constant grind to heal what was so thoroughly broken and even then, Hero might never return to their former cheerful self. But they also know there is no one more worth fighting for. 

Villain misses Hero like crazy. And they will have them back. 

Masterlist

A/N: Hello, darling! Oh, it's not a bother in the slightest! I'm glad to have you here. I have to admit, for the longest time, I had no idea if I would be able to finish this story. It felt very raw, very painful and hit a little too deep. But at the same time, I felt the need to explore the theme, both as a writer and as a psychologist. So, thank you for this request. I hope it turned out how you imagined it. Love, xo Sunny

Taglist: @marvellousdaisy @alltimelowing@lateuplight @surplus-of-sarcasm@betwist@excusemeasibangmyheadonawall @enemies-to-idiots-to-lovers@miaowmelodie @thatonerandomauthor @hhabaddon@burningoutlikeicarus @daemonvatis @weepingcowboywolfbat @thelazywitchphotographer @kaiwewi @soul-of-a-local-bard @pigeonwhumps @aflyingsheepnamedrose @thatneptune @ohwellthatslifesstuff @worldsfromhoney@thiefofthecrowns @crow-with-a-typewriter @qualityrabbitsoup @stargeode@villain-life @villainsblood @whumpifi @glassthedumbass @silviathebard @misskowe @ayeshaturnedtoashes4444

[b0amagination]

Tastes of Whumptober: Day 20

Did you know? Hero and villain prompts were some of the first whump content I intentionally consumed! I will forever be salty that mainstream superhero content could never live up to those prompts.

Content warnings for: Gun violence, threats of death, and mildly suggestive comments

Giving Permission to Die

“So? What’s the plan today?” The villain shouted across the room at the hero whose captivity he’d been in for… a week, now. Maybe more.

“Finally giving you what you want,” he responded with a shrug, playing with the knife in his hands. Flip it over, switch hands. Flip it over, switch hands.

“You don’t look prepared to present me with your corpse.”

“Oh, my death wouldn’t end your sentence, my love.” The flipping game was getting boring, and he picked at dirt under his nails using the blade instead. “You’d be chained up here with the rotting thing until you passed away yourself. Not punishment enough for your crimes, but it’s better than letting you roam the streets.”

“Sounds like you’re not giving me what I want then.”

“Be glad my greatest sin is telling lies.” A pointed glare accused him of crimes he’d plead innocent to, yet again. The knife moved to scratch an itch with the flat of it. 

“You sure that torturing a man isn’t higher on that list?”

“The pen is mightier than the sword, love.” A gesture with the damned thing now. He pushed down the urge to point out the obvious differences between that little thing and a sword. But the dick joke was funny in his head and didn’t involve initiation of a measuring contest.

“And your forked tongue doesn’t salivate ink. Swords can make quick work of those.” 

“Oh, shall I try it out on yours?” The hero stuck out his tongue at him.

“Put me out of my misery first.”

The knife plunged into the floor and he stood, never taking his eyes off of the villain.

“That. That’s what I’m talking about. Always egging me on. Trying to make me go too far.” He stalked forward and pulled a pistol from the inside pocket of his jacket. Entirely concealed from the outside. “I’ll go too far today. Just for you.” 

“Cute prop.” He hid the way his body shivered at the sight, praying the hero wouldn’t call his bluff. He was chained to this wall by his ankles, wrists, and neck. It wouldn’t be useful to put himself in a more vulnerable position.

“Here, let me fire. Maybe you’ll believe it then.” The gun aimed at the concrete beside his head but he paused. “Oh, who am I kidding. I should save your hearing for the last few minutes of your life.”

Foam earplugs were thrust into his ears and held still while they extended to block the canal, and the other did the same for himself. 

“Now, where was I?” Of course, shouting loud enough to bypass the earplugs. He aimed only a foot to the left of the villain’s head, pulling away as far as he possibly could, and fired. 

The sound ricocheted around the room, admittedly too small to facilitate gunfire, and he grinned at the way his victim flinched, eyes going wide. He walked forward and plucked the bullet out from its newfound pocket in the concrete, scattering dust and chunks that had stood solid just moments before. 

It was still warm from being shot and he dropped his knees, pressing it into the villain’s hand and folding up fingers to protect it. It trembled in his grip. 

“Do you believe me now, dear?” he spoke low into their ear, making sure he could still hear the threatening tone.

“Leave. Put that damn thing away and leave. You won’t shoot me and I know it.”

He cradled his cheek with the gun. And slid it up to sit against his temple. 

“How confident are you?” 

“Deadly so.”

BANG.

The world was fuzzy from the shot. The noise too close to his head, bleeding into his vision despite the protection. He looked down at his hands to see the blood dripping down them, spraying from his forehead. But only the bullet rolling in his palm greeted him. 

“Oops, guess the magazine was out.” 

Comprehension was a struggle. His forehead burned, but without blood… the hero’s thumb reached up and he flinched back uselessly as it rubbed over the not-hole. It came back covered in soot, wiped against his jaw like it was nothing. 

“What…?”

He released the magazine from the gun and presented it. Empty. 

“You were right. I didn’t shoot you.”

“You…”

“Pulled the trigger? Absolutely. Let’s rectify that little mistake, love.” Another magazine from his pocket, showing the bullets loaded inside, and shoving it into place. 

Then the front sight pressed against the villain’s lips, wiggling between them and scratching his teeth. He shook his head, turning it to the side. 

“No, no. You asked me for this, baby. I’ll follow through for you.” His hand steadied his chin, squeezing his jaw, and the muzzle jammed into the teeth with the threat to break. He had no choice but to let it in.

Gunpowder was a repulsive taste. Ash and acid. Then metal, still warm from recent discharge, but cooling rapidly. He guided it in, not stopping when teeth clamped down in an attempt to ward it off. The muzzle pressed toward his gag reflex when the trigger guard finally brushed his lips and he sighed, a whiny pathetic thing. 

“C’mon. Nod, babe, and I’ll pull the trigger. Hero’s honor. To save those in need.”

Nothing. He held him by the back of the head, devious smile aware of each action’s connotation, and twisted the pistol to force it further, making him gag on it. 

“Tell me to do it. I’ll let you die. I’ll blow your fucking brains out, sweetheart.”

The hammer clicked back. His finger inched toward the trigger. The villain held his breath, unmoving.

And then the gun ripped out of his mouth, sight tearing across his cheek and lip, splattering his blood across the floor where it flew and spun to a stop at the other end of the room.

“Right. Don’t ask me again.”

[chaotic-orphan]

Delirious Villain x Hero Caretaker, part 3:

Read part one Here

Read part two here

TW(for all parts): panic attacks, sick villain, delirious villain, sick Whump, villain hates being sick, fear of being sick, past whump, older brother whumper, PTSD, family Whump, sibling Whump, forced to vomit, graphic depictions of fever and illness and hallucinations, panicked whumpee, hero caretaker, villain doesn’t want help, graphic depictions of throwing up, sweat, heavy manipulation

I know it took me a million years to upload this part, but I finally understand the writers WIP jokes now better, so, ahaaaah… eheh… ahem, anyways.

*~*~*~*~*

They wiped their eyes on their sleeve, eyebrows knitting together as they settled down again, lying on Villain’s shoulder, tucked up next to them cozy.

“Villain?”

“Yeah Hero?”

“The… your brother beating you… it doesn’t explain why you hate being sick,” Hero said. Villain laughed a little and Hero felt the vibrations on their cheek.

“Right, yeah. After a while, when we were older… I think I was thirteen, he was sixteen. We all got a takeaway from the local Chinese place. We were eating it at the dinner table, and it was all fine and good. Then after Brother told me to come with him. I remember I didn’t want to at first, but my mum insisted I do, so I did.”

“He walked up the stairs to the bathroom and when I got in he locked the door.”

“Did you enjoy your food?” Brother asked, arms folded across his chest, leaning against the door. The years had only made him taller, more handsome and broad. High school had turned him into an idol around town and everyone knew his name.

“Yeah, I did,” said Villain. “It was nice. Did you enjoy yours?”

“Yeah, I did,” said Brother, black eyes locked on Villain’s. His mouth twisted up into a pondering pout. “But I mean, I’m allowed enjoy unhealthy food because I work out a lot. You don’t.”

“I do,” Villain protested. “I work out everyday after school, and I’ve been eating well, the diet you gave me I’ve been doing it all to the letter, Brother, I swear.”

“Okay, so if I check your school bag downstairs I won’t find chocolate bar wrappers will I?”

Villain froze at the question. Brother pushed off the door, looming over Villain, backing them up until Villain’s legs hit the side of the bath and they sat on the edge of it, shrinking down small, but Brother kept crowding them.

“That’s what I thought. It doesn’t matter how much you work out or what diet you follow if you’re still going to eat junk food. You are what you eat, Villain. People who eat takeaway and junk food get fat. Do you want to be fat?”

“No, no, I don’t Brother. I’m sorry. I’ll stop. I pro—“

Brother’s hand shot out, wrapping around Villain’s throat and hurtling them back against the wall of the bath, their legs flying up as they fell.

“I am so sick of you and your fucking promises, Villain. They mean nothing. You know why? Because you are nothing. Yet you keep trying to worm your way out of the consequences. My patience is running thin.”

Brother squeezed Villain’s throat harder and Villain gasped and flailed, trying to escape to get air to breathe. Brother was stronger than them though, and held them there a moment longer before letting up and walking to the bathroom sink with a long, drawn out sigh.

“I’m sorry,” Villain gasped, hand’s going to their throat. “I’m sorry, Brother.”

“Sorry isn’t good enough,” Brother said, gripping the sides of the sink and staring into the mirror. “I have tried with you, Villain. I have tried so hard to make you better. To make you perfect, likeable, loveable, anything more than this pathetic thing you are, but you make it so hard! Why can’t you just be better? Fucking god fucking damn it!”

Brother turned to face Villain in the bath, walked over to them and grabbed them by the collar of the shirt yanking them out. The motion was too quick for Villain to register, they couldn’t get their legs under them in time. Villain’s legs folded against the edge of the bath as Brother dragged them out, their knees hitting the bathroom floor with a heavy thud.

“Even your body knows where it belongs,” Brother hissed. “So why don’t you?!”

Brother dragged them to the toilet and flipped up the seat, dragging a struggling Villain to it. “No! Get off me! Mum! Dad! AGH—“

Brother laced his fingers through Villain’s hair and slammed his head against the toilet bowl. Villain bit his tongue with the impact, the taste of iron flooding his mouth and nose as his body was becoming more loose and struggles ceasing slightly.

“Look what you make me do! Just obey! Obey and all this will be easier on you, Villain. I’m doing this to help you! To make you better. Stronger, and you fight me the entire way!”

Brother let go of Villain’s hair and left them kneeling in front of the toilet. Villain spat some of the blood into the bowl in protest.

“What do you expect me to do?” Villain asked, the fight gone out of them. They just wanted this beating to be over with as soon as possible. They wanted to sleep.

“You’re going to throw up your dinner.”

Villain turned their head to Brother, eyes narrowing into a glare. “No I’m not.”

“Yes you are.”

Villain put two hands on either side of the toilet bowl and stood up. Brother grinned, though his eyes betrayed the emptiness of it. The malice behind their smile. The sick twisted enjoyment of Villain being defiant.

“Getting brave now, are we?” Brother hummed, head tilting as they regarded Villain. Fists balled by their sides and that hatred fuelled glare told Brother he was in for a fight. Good. “You’re throwing up your dinner tonight, Villain. The choice is whether you want to do it, or I do it. Either way you’re not getting out of here until you do.”

“Hope you’re ready for the long haul then,” said Villain and they struck first. Brother hummed as Villain’s fist connected with their jaw.

“Maybe you have been working out,” said Brother, and he swung his fist. Villain ducked under Brother’s arm and used his momentum to shove him forward. Villain didn’t wait to see if he fell or how far, he turned to the door, unlocked it and bolted out of it and down the stairs.

Brother’s footsteps followed close behind, haunting Villain as they desperately ran to the front door, unlocking it and yanking it open. A hand slammed it shut above their head and Villain yanked at it with all their strength but it barely budged open again before clicking shut.

“Kids!” Dad said from the kitchen and Villain ran to them. To help them, save them. Brother yanked on the hood of Villain’s jumper, choking them but Villain scrambled out of the stupid jumper and kept running, fixing their t-shirt as they ran into the kitchen.

“Why are you two—“

“Brother has been beating me,” Villain all but screamed. He panted as his lungs tried to catch up with him, swallowing air like it was free pizza at the arcade. “He’s been beating me, all the time. That’s how I get the bruises. That’s how I get the cuts,” Villain said, showing them his patchwork arms that he hid beneath his hoodies and long sleeves.

Well not anymore. No more hiding. Screw that. Screw protecting their psycho older Brother.

Brother walked slowly into the room, crossing his arms and leaning against the doorframe, Villain’s jumper in his fist. Black eyes watching Villain as they spoke. Completely unfazed.

“That’s why I’m wearing jumpers in July. That’s why I haven’t worn shorts all year. He has been beating me, cutting me, hurting me— and neither of you ever lifted a finger. Ever noticed how much he was hurting me, but you know now, so please… please…” Villain begged, tears flooding his eyes and streaming fat and fast down his face. “He told me I have to throw up the Chinese we just ate. He locked me in the bathroom with him and told me either I did it or he would make me. Make me throw up.”

The more Villain spoke, the louder the silence became as their parents looked both shocked and horrified at what Villain was telling them, but didn’t say anything about it.

“Please,” Villain sniffed. “Please say something. Tell him to fuck off. To stop hurting me please. I can’t live like this, I can’t.”

“Oh sweetheart, come here,” said Mum and Villain ran straight into her arms. She wrapped him in the warmest, tightest hug he had ever had and shushed him as he cried. Running gentle fingers through his hair. “It’s okay. We’ll sort this out, okay?”

Villain nodded against her shoulder.

“You want to explain what Villain just said, Brother?” Dad asked and Villain felt warmth flood through their chest as they realised that mum and dad believed them. They actually believed them, despite what Brother had told them all this time.

Brother let out a sigh. Villain turned to face him, stepping out of their mum’s arms and slightly in front of her. Inky black eyes followed Villain’s movements and settled on their face as they spoke.

“Villain is out of control,” said Brother, voice calm. “Ever since we were kids he has been picking fights with kids for no good reason, so I’ve been trying to help him out since he came into secondary school. He doesn’t… he just doesn’t listen. Everyone else, listens! He just again and again refuses my help.”

“Your help is making sure I can’t wear proper clothes anymore you dick!” Villain yelled, a hand on their shoulder calmed them as their mum shushed them.

“See what I mean?” Brother said, gesturing at Villain. “They have these outbursts all the time! I tried to reason with them for years, and I’ve just grown impatient. The only thing that Villain responds to is violence. It hurts me as much as it hurts them, but it’s just a fact.”

“That doesn’t give you a right to hurt them,” said Dad and Brother shook their head with a scoff.

“It does. Do you know how hard it is to be perfect? I have worked my arse off trying to make you both proud of me. Trying to be the best, I just want to help people, you know this. I want to be good, and join the Hero program. I want to make the world a better place.”

“That still doesn’t explain cutting and punching your brother, Brother,” Dad scolded, glancing back at Villain’s arms. “You have left them with scars!”

“That was the last resort, Dad! That was after they got into another fight at school with a teacher no less.”

“What fight?” Mum asked and Villain stiffened under her comforting hand.

Brother sighed again, more dramatically this time and ran his hand down his face, before finally stepping into the kitchen. Villain took an instinctive step back, their back hitting Mum. Brother didn’t even smile like they usually would at Villain’s fear. It sent a shiver up Villain’s spine.

“I think you should sit down,” said Brother, tone somber and heavy. He pulled a chair out for himself and sat down. Mum and Dad shared a look then did the same. All in their usual places. Mum and dad sitting across from each other. Brother and Villain sitting across from each other.

Brother threw Villain’s hoodie onto the table and Villain took it back hesitantly, before throwing it back on.

Hiding.

Again.

It felt like one nail in their coffin.

“Ever since we were kids,” Brother began, looking at Villain. “I have been protecting Villain from getting into trouble as much as I could. Which means, if he got into a fight with another kid I would smooth talk the other kid until I knew they wouldn’t tell a teacher or their parents or anything.”

“Why?” Dad asked.

“Because…” Brother said, throwing his hands up in a useless gesture. “I had built this pristine reputation. Everyone liked me. Everyone wanted to be friends with me, and then Villain comes along and gets into fights left and right, I didn’t want people to think bad of us. Or for either of you to be troubled by Villain’s fighting.”

“Is this true, Villain?” Mum asked, and Villain’s heart sunk to the bottom of their stomach.

Villain swallowed helpless, looking from Mum to Dad to Brother. “I— yes, but I wasn’t fighting for bad reasons! I promise!”

“How many fights did you get into?” Dad asked and Villain was quiet. “How many fights a week, then, Villain?”

“I—“ Villain said with a sigh, shoulders sagging. “I didn’t keep count.”

“There was that many?” Mum asked and Villain shrunk in their seat.

“There was about three fights a week,” said Brother, and Villain glared at him.

“No way there was three!”

“You just said you didn’t keep count,” said Brother matter of factly.

Villain turned to their parents and said: “I wasn’t fighting just to fight. I was fighting like how Brother fought. For people being bullied by other people. And sometimes even for brother—“

“Punching a bully only makes you a bully, Villain,” said Dad, shaking his head.

“Say that to the people being bullied! I was a bully, but I was a bully of bullies!” Villain protested. “The bullies were afraid of me, so they left other people alone.”

“There’s no need to raise your voice, Villain,” Dad chastised and Villain bowed their head and said: “sorry.”

Dad turned back to Brother then. “And Brother, you didn’t need to take this on board for us. You should have let those kids call home so we would know what is going on with Villain as it happens. We are the parents, not you.”

Brother had the audacity to look humbled by the reprimanding. “I’m sorry dad. I just thought… I’m Villain’s big brother. It’s my job to protect them. To help them. To guide them through the troubles of High school and now that they’re older they can’t think fighting solves everything. Especially not fighting with teachers.”

When Dad turned to face Villain again, and Mum was looking at Villain too, Villain saw the way Brother’s repentance morphed into a twisted grin. As if they already knew that they had won Mum and Dad over.

“What was the fight with your teacher about, sweetheart?” Mum asked gently.

Villain frowned, foreboding settling on their chest like a breezeblock, as they realised, it didn’t matter what they said. Somehow brother would twist the story and make themselves look good. They needed to be convincing and tell the truth.

“They said that Heroes were stupid, that they ruined our city and brought all the psychos and Villains into the spotlight, said we were wasting our taxes on them when they destroy our buildings and roads with their fighting.”

Even retelling the words that stupid teacher used made Villain’s hands curl into fists by their sides, how dare they say such a thing. Bet they wouldn’t be so cocky if a Villain was holding them hostage and a Hero saved them.

“And what did you do?” Dad asked.

Villain raised their head, chin jutting in the air and said: “I told him that it was very rude of him not to appreciate how hard the Heroes work to keep us all safe. Then he got mad at me and—“

Brother snorted from across the table. All heads turned to face him. Brother had the audacity to look innocent, but their eyes held that same knowing stare, twinkling with confidence that they could win their parents to his side.

“That’s not what I heard happened,” said Brother and Villain nearly lunged for him, but with the table in the way they wouldn’t be able to reach over and punch him. “I heard you called the teacher an idiot and caused a riot in your class over Heroes and Villains and where teachers fit into the spectrum.”

“That’s a lie,” Villain hissed, slamming their hands on the table. Brother beamed at that.

“See? Villain has issues, anger issues! They can’t even handle me telling the other side of the story.”

“The other side of a story you made up in your head, Brother! You’re lying!”

Brother sat back in their chair, smug, and scoffed. Folding their arms across their chest they said, “fine. All Mum and Dad have to do is call the teacher and they’ll tell them what really happened.”

“And?” Hero asked, voice gentle and soft and safe.

Villain hummed, a wry smile on their lips. “They went to fact check Brother’s story.”

“And what happened?”

“In the time it took them to make the call, Brother had me upstairs, wheezing, winded and over the toilet, spidery fingers down my throat.”

“Christ, Villain!”

“I know,” Villain said with a small laugh. “I guess the fear started there… and Brother… they knew how much it got under my skin, more so than the cuts and bruises, so he kept doing it. In school, out of school, on the way home. He was relentless.”

“And where is he now? Brother, I mean.”

“He was here earlier but I think he’s gone now, I think, shit, I must have been hallucinating or something,” Villain said, eyes widening slightly.

“Let’s just hope you start feeling better tomorrow, Vil.”

“I better. I’m looking forward to your chicken soup,” Villain hummed and Hero laughed.

“You just spent the last twenty four hours throwing up and all you can think about is food?”

“I’m a simple person, Hero, and your soup is like a miracle cure.”

“You’re putting a lot of hope in this soup,” said Hero and Villain laughed, cuddling closer to Hero.

“No, I’m not. I just— Hero… thank you for everything today.”

“You’ve done it for me before,” said Hero, “remember the food poisoning incident? That was not pretty.”

“Just take the compliment, crime fighter,” Villain murmured sleepily. Hero just smiled and kissed Villain’s head and said: “okay, Vil. I’ll take the compliment. Go to sleep.”

Villain’s soft, even breaths was Hero’s answer, and they smiled, and closed their eyes as well. Holding Villain closer than they ever have before.

*~*~*~*~*

Continued here

[whump-in-the-closet]

Recommended Stories

Just a compilation of whump stories by other writers that I’ve enjoyed. No, no one asked for this, but here it is anyway. Since I’m always looking for new stuff to read, I imagine that this list is going to grow. But for now…

(this isn’t in any particular order and they’re all SFW as far as I’m aware)

Our Man Flint by @dismemberment-on-a-tuesday-night

Poetic prose that lures you into the story. A vampire hunter is forced to face (quite literally) his worst nightmare.

Erebus & Terror by @brutal-nemesis

There’s a gradual loss of humanity as the prince of a fallen kingdom is turned into a science experiment. Gore, suffering, and a protagonist you love to hurt.

Diamonds to Dust by @kira-the-whump-enthusiast

Some fantastic villain whump, with a sprinkling of angst. Family dynamics involve a distraught brother as a caretaker.

Jane’s Pets by @another-whump-sideblog

Nasty captivity and heavy torture featuring an immortal twelve year old whumper and her human pets. A very relatable protagonist and cast of characters.

Ongoing Untitled Story by @verkja

Fantasy adventure whump with some cool worldbuilding and three morally grey main characters. Oh and btw? The world is ending.

Kane & Jim by @whumpsday

Whumper turned whumpee and whumpee turned caretaker. Vampire whump and some truly horrible torture methods. It’s fantastic.

Seven Series by @whump-queen

Objectification and pet whump, hoo boy. A roller coaster of BBU suffering and a sad whumpee who’s in way over his head.

Waking Dreamer by @painsandconfusion

An intriguing magic system with a very whumpy plot that only gets worse and well developed characters.

Sunlight and Embers by @whither-wander-whump

Fantasy setting and a rebellion in the making. A prisoner is recruited from the dungeons to be used as a pawn in the rebellion and the plot continues to thicken.

Betrayed by @suspicious-whumping-egg

Hero and Villain whump. A hero is betrayed by their team and left at the mercies of the opposing side.

Hero and Villain Story: Behind the Masks by @whumpering-heights

Hero and Villain whump, but with a villian who does not deserve what he’s been put through. There’s an unlikely bit of mercy from someone you’d least expect. As the kids say, it’s right in the feels.

Weapons Don’t Weep by @wolfeyedwitch

A human weapon in a dystopian setting is rescued by a team of rebels. Dehumanization and angst with hopes for a recovery arc.

The Second Wave by @there-will-always-be-blood

Whumper turned whumpee and is furious about it. A morally-grey (she’s more than happy to commit murder) type of protagonist and an antagonist you want dead.

Liliholm and Page by @yet-another-heathen

Vigilante whump with a cinematic feel and characters who are vividly human, whether whumper or whumpee. God-tier whump will have you gripping your screen.

[lili-loves-whump]

writing prompt

*the lonely hero mesmerised by a painting of them in a museum wondering who was able to capture their essence perfectly*

the villain is also an artist

lili-loves-whump presents:

My Muse

“Isn’t it amazing?”

“Remarkable!”

“This is extraordinary…”

Hero hummed their agreement to the people around them. The piece was truly spectacular.

“I shall never- not ever- forget this piece!”

Beside them, a young girl stood, hands pressed into her cheeks. They were warm with colour and bright against her pale skin. "This is a really good art, person."

Hero chuckled and shrugged. The piece in question was a mix of warm-toned colours: auburn, and orange, and deep hazelnut. They were splashed against a pale background, and looked sort of like a landscape.

The girl had shuffled on, but Hero continued to watch the piece.

They weren't quite sure what everyone else saw- to them, it looked slightly like a colour palette for their face- whispy brown hair, deep hazel eyes, orange peekaboo dye. But who was the artist anyway?

Another man was next to them now. He was tall, with curly blonde hair that fell over the edge of his eyebrows. He smirked at Hero.

"Admiring the art, I see?"

Hero nodded slowly. What was with the art? Why did everyone enjoy it so? It did kind of look like them, if they tilted their head.

"It looks like you, if I may say."

Hero's eyes widened, and they looked up at the stranger, then back at the painting. "I guess you're kind of right," they mused, tapping their ear with a finger in thought.

"No, not literally," the stranger replied, "but your essence, kind of. Your personality- who you are."

Hero shrugged, and the stranger must have walked away, because they didn't say anymore, but they were right. Somehow, the abstract painting that looked like a landscape in the sunset had Hero's exact vibe. But who would know that?

"Enjoying my art?"

Hero rolled their eyes. Why was everyone talking to them? They wanted to expect the art in piece for God's sak-

"Your art?" they echoed, shuffling their feet.

Villain stood next to them, wringing their hands. "Yes," they said, slowly, "my art. I applied to have it shown in this museum, and I won." They laughed nervously, eyes darting to their companion. "You like it, then?"

Hero nodded quickly. "It's very nice- to meet you, as well."

Villain chuckled. "Of course..."

"Hero."

"Ah, lovely name. I am Villain. I must say, you look slightly of my muse- the person I based the painting of. But no matter, they aren't around. Well, I must be leaving now. Enjoy!"

And as Villain sauntered away, Hero felt the vague pull of familiarity drain from them.

[jumpywhumpywriter]

A Life in the Hands of the Enemy -- Villain reluctantly saves Hero's Life part 22

Warnings: captivity whump, cruel Villain whumper, forced living weapon, captive Hero whumpee, shock collars

"These can generate almost as much heat as you can, upwards of 2,000 degrees Fahrenheit. So I have you to thank for the inspiration.”

Amber shivered uneasily, mind wandering to all the damage Zack could do with those after they beat Supervillain.

Her train of thought was interrupted when he handed her a leather mask that matched the suit she was wearing. "For your oh-so-secret identity," he teased.

Amber scowled as she fitted it on her face, and Zack put a matching one on his own, before walking over and opening the front door. He stopped Amber when she tried to walk out, expression more serious than she was used to seeing.

"Listen carefully. Don't use my real name in the field, and I won't use yours either. From this point onward, you are Hero, and I am Villain. Understood?"

Amber nodded grimly, and Zack stepped aside to let her out. He led her to a sleek black car that looked just like so many others, nothing about it screaming 'I belong to an evil crime lord'. Amber didn't know what she'd been expecting, but it wasn't this.

"Fancy ride, isn’t it," Zack joked as he hopped in the driver's seat. Amber got into the passenger side with an exasperated eye roll. The instant she shut the door Zack hit the gas, tires squealing as the vehicle lurched into motion, speeding down the street.

"Pretty sure you're going double the speed limit right now," Amber harped angrily, struggling to get her seat belt on.

"I'm a villain. Laws don't apply to me," Zack answered flippantly.

"Ugh, you're so annoying," Amber groaned inwardly. "Do you even know where we're headed?"

"Yes. I was watching the news live and Supervillain is currently making a stand against authorities at that giant museum downtown. They're working on evacuating the surrounding areas of civilians because of how dangerous it's getting. And apparently Supervillain brought some friends with him. It's pure chaos, we're walking into a literal war zone between SWAT teams and Supervillain's goons."

"Great, as if the odds couldn't get any worse," Amber grumbled, bracing herself against the door of the car as Zack took a particularly sharp turn.

And when they arrived, Amber realized that Zack hadn't been exaggerating. The scene was hectic. Fleeing bystanders and civilians were running like mice away from the museum, screaming in terror. And the whole front of the museum itself was in shambles, collapsed from what looked like explosives judging from the damage. Armored SWAT vehicles were positioned outside the entrance, people in military gear taking cover behind them.

Zack jumped out of the car and Amber followed, shocked at the extent of the damage. Even some of the buildings surrounding the museum were partially or completely destroyed and collapsed.

"Here's what's going to happen," Zack said urgently. "You need to go and talk to the SWAT teams, get them to back off so we can go in and take control of the situation -- go clear a way for us to reach and fight Supervillain. I'll work on blasting a hole to get inside, it looks like Supervillain's barricaded himself inside the museum to buy time for whatever his plan is."

"I don't take orders from you!" Amber snapped.

"You will if you want to win this," Zack growled confidently. "SWAT will listen to you because you're a familiar hero. They won't trust me."

"Gee, I wonder why?" Amber drawled pointedly.

"Cut the snark. We need to have each other's backs here, even if we're rivals. Can you trust me, if I'm willing to trust you, just this once? We can go back to being enemies after the fight’s over. But we need to work together for this to work, or we'll both get ourselves killed. Can you do that?" He held out a hand, waiting for her to accept.

Amber searched his face for a lie, for any hint or trace of familiar manipulation, but all she could see was genuine sincerity for once, brutal honesty from him. She hesitated, the sounds of terrified screams piercing the background... before she shook Zacks hand with grim resolve and determination. "I'll trust you... once, only because I have to. After this, no more," she growled.

"Understood." Zack broke away and took off at a dead sprint toward the side of the museum, while Amber ran toward the SWAT teams.

⏪️ Back Next ⏩️

Masterlist

@scoundrelwithboba @lumpofsand @isikedmyself878 @iamheretohurt @fleur-a-whump

@ay5ksal @otterfrost @sausages-things @i-don't-know-sal @togzy

@whump-till-ya-jump @cravesunconditionallove @whumpwritinglover222

[doorlampwrites]

A snippet inspired by @reds-whump-prompts's hostage prompt list

"You could at least be polite about it," the civilian muttered.

"Oh, sorry, did you want to feel important?" the villain said. "Alright. You're the most valuable hostage I could ever hope for! I’m so glad I have you instead of anyone with a real connection to the hero."

"Don't take your anger out on me," the civilian snapped. Being trapped in the villain's base was bad enough. "It isn’t my fault you failed."

"Well, I’m pissed. So deal with it."

The civilian squeezed their eyes shut, anger bubbling up in their stomach. They were only good at keeping their mouth shut half the time.

Their regular walk back from work, usually so calm, had been interrupted by an attempted kidnapping. The intended target had slipped away, but the scene had left the civilian standing there alone in the early darkness of winter.

A simple "you'll do" had sealed their fate. Two simple words, but packed with so many different implications.

Perhaps it was silly of the civilian to feel dismissed from those words—a bottom barrel find. It didn't matter what the villain thought of them, but it still stung.

"You'll look good in the news at least. 'Hero fails to save civilian.' Exactly what I want to hear."

"You're a bitch," the civilian said.

A hand grabbed their hair and yanked it back roughly. "What was that?"

"I said you're a bitch," they hissed.

A fire roared in the villain's eyes. The civilian fully expected them to hit them, but surprisingly they relented.

"You're not worth sore knuckles."