#and relationship to whumpee

[atinydragon]

hehe I'm cooking up some whump ocs :>

[loreleiloon]

"Are you lonely?" whumpee asks, picking at their tattered clothes. Whumper seems surprised, "What do you mean, you silly thing?" Whumpee avoids whumper's hand when they try to pet them. "You only talk to me because I can't leave, right? If--if you had some--" they struggle to find the words, "if you didn't need me, would you let me go?" A hard line furrows whumper's brow, "Why would I not need you, whumpee?" Whumpee can't quite meet their eyes, "I...do you even need me now?" Whumper leans over whumpee, voice low as teeth graze their ear, "Let me show you how much I need you..."

[defire]

I like the light face pats/slaps that are kind of aggressive-affectionate, except the relationship IS NOT LIKE THAT

Face pats

Content: noncon touch, injuries

Like with secret whump, whumper obnoxiously getting handsy with whumpee, who has to laugh and pretend to like it even though the "pats" sting

Or pre-party, whumper's hands going down whumpee's body making sure they're all dressed and in shape for showing off, finally ending with a pat-pat on the cheek and "look at you, outshining me."

Pats an arm after a beating, revealing just how hurt whumpee still is as they hiss in pain and clutch protectively over the spot

Or with captive whump, whumpers pretending to sympathize and whumpee jerking their face away with a grimace

Mocking little slaps with the rhetorical questions and "huh? Huh?" Turning into real slaps when whumpee doesn't answer

Light slaps to whumpee's face to make them flinch toward the camera

[a-class-attempter]

Caretaker sees Whumpee for the first time after their rescue. Whumpee is like a parent to Caretaker and to see Whumpee reduced to scarred flesh on a hospital bed breaks them.

Caretaker stays with Whumpee for days, barely getting any sleep. When Whumpee finally wakes up, they hold Caretaker close.

“Do you want to know what kept me alive?” Whumpee asks.

Caretaker, so overcome with a mix of terror and relief, can only nod.

Whumpee squeezes Caretaker’s hand. “You did, Caretaker. I lived so I could see your face again.”

[justbreakonme]

Whumper that treats pet whumpee like a lapdog meets whumpee who had lived their whole life touchstarved and hated equals the most toxic but enjoyable relationship either had ever had.

Whumper likes how whumpee leans into their touch, the way they panic when they leave the room.

Whumpee relishes the “best” treatment they’ve ever had, and chalks up the overly close and possessive nature of it to love.

[macknus]

Cocky Whumpee

“Just in case you didn’t know,” Caretaker said, glaring at Whumpee. “You don’t have to act like a piece of shit all the time.”

Whumpee didn’t look at them. “I can literally make anyone do whatever the fuck I want, Caretaker. I’m basically a god.”

“You’re such a dick,” Leader huffed.

Whumpee shrugged. “Tell me I’m wrong and I’ll stop acting like I’m better than all of you. Prove me wrong.”

Whumper, who was silently gazing out the window, pushed off the wall and walked towards Whumpee. Whumpee smirked as he approached, lifting his chin stubbornly to look Whumper in the eyes. He wasn’t afraid of the brute. Not when he could make him twirl like a ballerina or bark like a dog with a single sentence.

“Whumper, I want you to—” the punch to Whumpee’s jaw sent him spinning, rocking on his heel. “I want yo—” a punch to the diaphragm and Whumpee doubled over himself, trying to suck in the air that was stolen from his lungs.

Whumper didn’t let up. He snapped his palm against the underside of Whumpee’s chin and punched him to the ground. Whumpee’s brain seemed to rattle in his skull as his head smacked against the floor, but Whumper wasn’t done.

A boot came down on his throat and Whumpee wheezed, choking and gasping, his legs kicking out at Whumper but Whumper didn’t seem to notice nor care as he stared down impassively at Whumpee.

“You need breath to issue commands, like a human,” Whumper told him. “You need a jaw in tact to be able to communicate effectively,” he continued, pressing down on Whumpee’s windpipe harder. “And you need a fucking reality check, clearly, if I could take your arrogant ass down with five moves.”

Whumper forced a smile onto his lips that didn’t reach his eyes as he let up on Whumpee’s throat and turned away. “Some god you are. I certainly won’t be praying to you.”

By the time Whumpee recovered, Whumper was gone, having left the room whistling to himself. Whumpee sat up, looking pointedly at Caretaker and Leader.

Leader smirked. “I would chastise him for that, but you did ask to be proven wrong. He just obliged.”

“Bastard,” Whumpee hissed. The humiliation stung more than the slowly ebbing burn in his lungs and throat. He could get his revenge on Whumper. Easily. But his blown ego and pride scurried off into a corner of his mind and hid while he gathered himself enough to get to his feet. “Stupid brutish pig.”

“High praise coming from a god,” Caretaker murmured, a smile on their face as they kept their eyes fixed on the newspaper in their hands.

“Oh shut up, Caretaker.”

“Never,” Caretaker said with a grin. “I think that’s gonna stay with you for a while. Whumper’s probably telling everyone what you likened yourself to before he knocked you on your ass.”

Whumpee groaned as they glared at the entrance to the common room. He ran a hand down his face and sighed.

Great. Just great.

*~*~*~*~*

General Tag-list: @anxious-mess19 @scoundrelwithboba (lmk if you want to be added or removed)

[chaotic-orphan]

Delirious Villain x Hero Caretaker (5)

Read part one here // Continued from here

Heed the TW (and mind yourselves please <3):

TW: emotional abuse, physical abuse, mental abuse, vomiting, forced vomiting, violence, elements of psychosis, psychosis episode-like symptoms, vulnerable whumpee, intimate whumper, older brother whumper, young sibling whumpee, gaslighting, manipulation, sick whump, sickness whump, illness whump, reuniting with whumper, PTSD, facing whumper who gave PTSD, bad family relationships,

~*~*~*~*~*~

Villain eyed Superhero wearily. Despite all their training, all their progress, Superhero had a height and weight advantage over Villain. His broad shoulders stood proud, supporting his stupid head, with his smirk that made Villain’s stomach crawl. They needed to get out of here, to get help.

They wouldn’t make it to the door in the condition they were in, so that was out of the question. His eyes flicked to the couch where he was asleep not a few minutes ago, which felt like a lifetime now. He couldn’t see his phone. He needed to call Hero, but maybe it was tangled in the blankets?

“I can see the cogs turning, Vil,” Superhero said with a happy sigh. “If you’re hoping that your precious Hero comes to save you in time, don’t. They’re too busy saving someone worth saving.”

“Shut up!” Villain growled, pushing at Superhero’s chest with their free hand. “Get off of me!”

Superhero chuckled, tsking and shaking his head at Villain’s outburst. Villain’s heart didn’t forget to beat after that, the guilt at his Brother’s disappointment didn’t still affect him. It didn’t.

“Where are your manners, Vil? Jeez, does Hero just let you run wild? That must be so annoying for them.”

“Hero loves me.”

Superhero leaned in, dark eyes glittering with malice. “Oh yeah? Then why aren’t they here looking after you?”

Villain’s face scrunched up. “Because you sent them away!”

“Or are they just so tired with you that they had to get out of the house for a while. It seems like the latter to me. God, I remember how annoying you were. Nobody, not even Hero has enough patience to handle you.”

“Hero loves me,” Villain said again, this time a little quieter.

“No. They don’t. They probably just feel sorry for you and how pathetic you are. Like a wounded baby bird whose wings are too weak to make it fly.”

“My life doesn’t concern you anymore! You don’t have to interact with me on a daily basis! Please let me go. Please, Brother, please.”

Superhero pressed a finger to his lips. “Shush. No begging yet, Vil. It’s unbecoming.”

Without warning, Superhero yanked Villain off the wall and was about to throw him to the floor when the pair froze. Villain’s ringtone played mutely from the bedroom. Villain’s eyes widened.

Hero.

Superhero recovered quicker than Villain, a cruel grin on his face as he started dragging Villain towards the bedroom. He got a hand on the back of Villain’s neck and shoved him down so Villain had to walk awkwardly bent over. Superhero opened the door to the bedroom and saw the phone lighting up on the bed.

He threw Villain to the ground beside the bed, laughing as Villain stumbled before he hit the floor with a groan, grabbing Villain’s phone off the bed.

“Aww, Vil. It’s Hero. Probably calling you to tell you that they’re leaving you.”

“Shut up,” Villain hissed, rubbing their hip that took the brunt of the impact.

Superhero turned Villain’s phone to Villain so they could see the picture of Hero laughing, ice-cream in hand, a dollop of mint chocolate chip on the tip of their nose.

“Cute,” Superhero said with a scoff, then put his finger in his mouth and mimed vomiting. Superhero waited for Hero to hang up before scrolling through Villain’s phone. Superhero raised their brows, glancing at Villain over the phone. “You seriously don’t have a passcode or something?”

“Don’t need it.”

Superhero scoffed, turning his attention back to the phone. Villain moved to get to their feet when Superhero’s stare snapped to them. “Don’t move or I’ll kill Hero.”

That froze Villain in their movements, their heart hitching at Superhero’s easy threat. Superhero didn’t seem too bothered by it and soon his face split into a wide smile.

“Aww, look Vil. Hero text: Superhero,” Superhero paused, grinning down at Villain pointing to himself. “That’s me.” Then went back to reading. “Superhero said that he was short staffed, and sent me to West-point so I will be home later than usual. Sorry for leaving you again, there’s soup in the freezer if you feel up to it. I love you. xx.”

Villain tightened their hands into fists by their sides, clenching their jaw against every word that Superhero read. Hero was going to be home later than normal? West-point, that was at least an hour by metro from here and who knows when they’d get home… especially because—

Villain raised their gaze to Superhero who was grinning above them. “You weren’t short-staffed, were you?”

“Of course not,” Superhero said with a smirk. “I just had to get Hero away from you for a while. Hell, even Other Hero and Sidekick should’ve gone to central hospital but I asked for them to be transferred to West-point so we could have some long overdue family time.”

Superhero tapped on Villain’s phone a little longer and grinned after locking the screen, pocketing the phone in his back-pocket. “Just in case you get any ideas.”

Villain glared at him from the ground, a sudden overwhelming helplessness returning to him that he hadn’t felt since he was a kid. Since he moved out of his family home. Now it came back with a viciousness that threatened to drown him and left him clawing against it just to keep his head above the water and his breathing even.

“Now,” Superhero said, inspecting Villain with his piercing gaze. “What to do with you.”

“Just leave,” Villain tried. “Please. I don’t— I’m not apart of your life anymore. You don’t— you don’t have to do this.”

“Vil, Vil, Vil,” Superhero sighed walking towards Villain. “Family doesn’t quit on each other. They never give up on you. I know I don’t have to try and fix you, the truth is I never did. I just wanted what was best for you.”

“Yeah right! You just wanted what was best for you! Can’t have your little brother embarrass you in public!”

Superhero, to Villain’s surprise, softened at that. Villain didn’t trust it for a second.

“You’re right,” Superhero said with a breath. “I was so worried about what kind of shame or embarrassment you would bring on me. I didn’t want people associating failure with us.”

Superhero crouched in front of Villain, tilting his head to the side. A strange smile on his lips, that Villain couldn’t quite discern. It looked whimsical and yet sad, wait— was that a genuine smile? No. It couldn’t be.

“It’s because I saw our potential, Villain,” Superhero said with a scoff. “Y’know, it’s stupid, but when I worked so hard to be Superhero, to become the best and bring prestige to our family name… well, I pushed you hard too because I always imagined that it would be something that we’d do together. Something we’d achieve together. The best brother Superhero duo in history.”

Villain’s heart cracked a little, a swarm of guilt spilling out like a leak in a dam, constricting his chest. Villain longed to reach out, to close the distance between them to apologise for not being able to live up to Superhero’s expectations.

To tell him that Villain tried. He really fucking tried, but Superhero was always stronger, faster, better than he was and he couldn’t be the same.

He didn’t though. He tightened his hands into fists and stared at Superhero who looked six feet deep in fond memories and regrets.

“I’m sorry, Vil.”

It felt as if time stopped. As if the Earth stopped turning, and the world stood frozen. The moment right before a car crash, or something inevitable happening; the cusp that hides between moments like a trapdoor spider, waiting until you lowered your guard before attacking and killing you.

Villain’s voice was a whisper: “what?”

Superhero swallowed, forcing himself to meet Villain’s gaze. “I’m sorry, Villain.”

There was no joke or humour in Superhero’s face as he said that, again. Apologised? Again! But— but— Villain’s brain was fried from their flu because this must be another trick? Another hallucination. Superhero being sorry for something? Feeling remorse?

“I’m sorry about what happened on the outside, how people perceived us, what you said and did outside the house that I didn’t even think about how it all must’ve effected you. I’m sorry that I wasted all that time trying to correct your behaviour outside the house when really,” Superhero’s hand shot out like a viper to grab Villain by the throat, slamming him back against the wall. “Really I should’ve focused more on your manners and knowing your fucking place.”

Superhero stood, bringing Villain with him and threw him across the room. Villain tried to catch themselves before their face hit the wall by throwing their hands out, but they landed awkwardly on their wrist and the pain ricocheted down their arm. Villain hissed, retracting their arm but they didn’t have time to react before a hand was in their hair and bashing their skull against the wall.

Once. Twice. Three times.

Villain went dumb from the impact, their brain struggling to comprehend what was happening, but the pain. They felt the pain spread like wildfire through their skull.

The hand in their hair tightened and Villain cried out as they were dragged across the bedroom, back towards the kitchen. They tried to gain purchase on the ground with their knees, but Superhero was moving too fast for them to keep up.

Superhero paused two feet from the doorway. Villain didn’t know why, they just slumped to the ground like a dog in shade during a heatwave. They just needed to catch their breath. Or pass out. Either was a good option.

Superhero didn’t seem to think so. He lifted his hand suddenly, dragging Villain’s head up to look Villain in the eye. Villain hissed, hands clawing at the strong grip on his hair. Superhero grabbed Villain by the throat, slamming his head back into the wall.

Villain groaned at the impact, moving his hands to try and dislodge Superhero’s hand from his throat. “God. You really are pathetic, aren’t you? Did I not teach you anything?”

Superhero stepped back, dropping all contact from Villain who struggled not to slump down the wall to the floor.

Superhero took two steps back, running a hand down his face, pinning Villain to the wall with a harsh glare. Villain’s entire body was trembling at them, struggling to keep themselves up in case they needed to bolt. But Superhero’s eyes caught every tremor, every flinch or wince.

“You’re still fucking ruining everything. It’s all you ever do, isn’t it?”

“Fuck off.”

“You really don’t know, do you? You make people weak, Villain.” Villain froze at the emotion colouring Superhero’s voice. “You make people weak, because they feel like they need to look after you, or take care of you. For fuck’s sake, you can barely stand by your-fucking-self! You needed Hero to take days off of work to mind you while you were sick, like some fucking child! Do you know how embarrassing that is!”

“My life doesn’t concern you anymore,” Villain spat, tears pinpricking their eyes.

Superhero scoffed. “Doesn’t concern me?”

Superhero studied Villain’s face, the wince after Superhero spoke. Then recognition flashed on his face, putting two and two together.

“You didn’t tell Hero that we’re related,” Superhero said, tilting his head to the side, a smile gracing his lips at Villain’s silence. “Oh that is… that is hilarious. The person you love the most? You’re keeping secrets from them?”

“We are not related,” Villain said, their voice coming out stronger than they felt in that moment. “You are nothing to me. I left you and Mom, and Dad. I left. I made a life for myself, a life where I’m loved by somebody. Why can’t you be happy for me?”

“What, you think Hero actually loves you?”

Villain flinched at the words. “Oh you do, don’t you?” Superhero cooed, walking towards Villain again and grabbing their face in his hands. “Oh. You poor fucking idiot. You have no idea how much Hero hates you, do you?”

Villain’s eyes glistened with tears. Superhero slammed Villain’s head back into the wall.

“Do you?”

“Just leave… leave me alone,” Villain begged, tears finally spilling over his eyes. “Please.”

Villain’s hand reached up and curled his fingers around Superhero’s wrist, weakly tugging at it.

“I can make them love you again,” Superhero whispered. “I know how. I can make you worth something in their eyes, isn’t that what you want?”

Villain sniffled, nodding. Superhero cooed, brushing the sweaty hair back from Villain’s face. “I know. I know you’re scared, but big bro’s here now, hmmm? Come on.”

Superhero pulled Villain away from the wall gently, taking Villain’s wrist in his hand. “Come on.”

“Where are we—” Villain asked, their voice hitching, wiping away their tears with the sleeve of their shirt. “Where’re we going?”

Villain’s mind only registered they were walking towards the bathroom when Superhero opened the door. Then they started pulling against Superhero’s hold.

“No! No, no, no, no, no!” Villain cried, going limp and yanking backwards. Superhero dropped Villain, cursing at them for the sudden weight. Villain took the opportunity to roll onto their stomach, pushing themselves to their hands and knees and rushing forwards. They threw themselves to their feet, stumbling slightly, almost rolling on their ankles but they were standing. They bolted for the door to the bedroom, slamming their shoulder into the doorframe as they propelled themselves out and towards the front door.

A hand caught the back of their shirt and Villain cried out. They were yanked backwards, their head slamming off the doorframe to the bedroom. Villain fell like a sack of bricks and Superhero let them.

Villain blinked up bleary-eyed at the ceiling, the world swimming in a whirlwind of colour. Two Superhero’s appeared above Villain, shaking their heads, as if they were disappointed parents looking down on an unruly child.

“Look at what you did,” Superhero said, the words coming in and out of focus like pulses. He leaned down, crouched above Villain. Then a hand passed over his face and Villain’s head whipped to the side. They whimpered. “Ah. There you are,” Superhero said, only one of him now. “Still with me, Vil.”

Another slap and Villain whimpered, weakly pushing their hand against Superhero’s. Superhero easily batted it away, opting to instead pinch Villain’s cheeks between their thumb and forefinger and dig their fingers in until Villain’s mouth formed an O and they cried out.

“Listen runt, I didn’t want to hurt you! Don’t you see? I’m trying to help you. You’ve clearly let yourself go since the last time I saw you, and nobody, not even Saint Hero will love you if you’re fat and disgusting. You want to be worth Hero’s love, don’t you?”

Tears welled behind Villain’s eyes and they tried to turn their head away, not wanting to face Superhero and the truth in his words. Superhero didn’t even let Villain flinch in any direction before his grip tightened.

“Don’t you want to be someone worthy of love?” Superhero asked, his voice imperceptibly soft. Villain let out a pathetic yes, their voice muffled by Superhero’s hold on their face. Superhero’s features smoothed out and he nodded sympathetically. “I know. Come on, let’s get you up. I’m just trying to help you be worthy of Hero.”

Superhero helped Villain to sit up, openly crying now. Superhero nodded his head compassionately. “I know. I know. Shh. It’s okay. Big bro’s here now. He’s going to make everything better. Ssh. Don’t worry. Come on, runt.”

Superhero helped the wailing Villain to their feet, guiding them towards the bathroom again. Villain, resigned, followed along because they didn’t want to get hit again. They didn’t want to try and fight back and get beaten again. They didn’t want to be ugly for Hero, they wanted to be worthy of them. Hero was brilliant, perfect, why would they settle for anything less than that? God, Superhero was right.

Superhero gently pushes Villain to their knees, and tells them to: “open up.”

Villain felt the familiar fear creep back up their spine, making their hair stand on end. They shook their head, making to stand up but Superhero kept a hand on Villain’s shoulder, keeping them in place.

“Come on. You said you wanted to be worthy of Hero, right?”

Villain deflated. A part of them wanted to be perfect, to listen to Superhero and just give in, save themselves the pain. The other part was screaming at them, telling them they were worth more than this. That they hated this, and that Hero loved them no matter what. Strangely the voice telling them to fight sounded an awful lot like Hero’s.

“It’s okay, you don’t have to do anything. I’ll do it all, remember?” Superhero coaxed, his fingers tracing Villain’s jaw and resting at their bottom lip. “Come on, Villain.”

Villain didn’t protest, but they didn’t fight Superhero either, so when his fingers pushed past Villain’s lips, Villain didn’t move. Only when they went far, hitting Villain’s gag reflex did Villain start fighting him.

They shot up from their knees on instinct, but Superhero’s hold kept them down, his other hand going to the back or Villain’s hair and pulling it, yanking their head back so he could shove his fingers down further.

Villain whined, shaking their head. They didn’t want this, they didn’t want this! Villain felt bile climbing his throat and he jerked forward, but Superhero didn’t move his fingers and they hit the back of Villain’s tongue. Villain felt the warmth climbing his throat, gripping the toilet seat and ready to vomit.

Superhero pulled his fingers out at the last second, and Villain heaved. It was only bile that came out, green-hued see through slime, because Villain hadn’t eaten in days.

Superhero clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth. “Hmm. That won’t do. We’ll go again.”

Before Villain could protest, Superhero’s fingers were in his mouth again, unmerciful as they shot to the back of Villain’s throat. Villain grabbed Superhero’s wrist, pulling his fingers out. “Don’t fight me, Vil. We agreed.”

Superhero’s fingers hit Villain’s throat again, and they felt the muscles in their neck contracting as another wave of nausea hit them. Panicking and wanting Superhero to just let them go, Villain clamped their jaw around Superhero’s hand.

Superhero yelped, then roared and yanked their hand out of Villain’s jaw. “I’m—” Villain gasped, but Superhero cut them off with a punch to the face. Villain’s head veered down, hitting off the edge of the ceramic toilet bowl with a dull thump.

A hand in their hair and their head was wrenched back. Superhero’s fist flashed in the corner of their eye, and struck the same place in their jaw, keeping them straight.

“I thought we agreed that I—” punch. “Know” punch. “Better.” A sharp slap deafened Villain as Superhero released them again, their head snapping to the side. “I don’t want to hurt you, but you force me to, Vil. I hate to see you like this, but as your older brother I’ll do what I have to do, to make you a better person.”

A sharp kick to the stomach, once, twice, three times and Villain lurched forward, crying out and swallowing hard to keep the rush of liquid crawling like a tidal wave up their throat. Superhero grabbed Villain by the throat. Leaning his face in closer to them.

“Come on, Vil,” Superhero said sweetly. “You want to look your best for Hero, don't you? You want to deserve them, right?”

“Pl—please,” Villain stammered, choking on Superhero’s tight grip. “Just lemme— go.”

“Stop fighting me, runt, I'm just trying to look out for you.”

Superhero pinched Villain’s jaw between his thumb and index finger, his nails digging into their cheeks, drawing blood, and forcing their mouth open. His fingers found the back of Villain’s throat, pressing down on Villain’s gag reflex.

Villain felt the muscles in his throat tighten, the bile burning acidic up their throat and they lunged forward, Superhero withdrew his hand from Villain’s mouth, but kept pinching their cheeks so Villain couldn’t swallow. Only when he was satisfied that Villain was about to hurl did he let go, grinning down as Villain spewed into the toilet.

A lot more than last time, their stomach ached as they vomited. A momentary pause and then another bout reared its head and tears streamed down their face, sobbing as they let the feeling run its course out of them.

Superhero patted Villain’s hair like a dog. “Good, see. You did so good.”

“What are you doing?”

Villain froze at the voice. Superhero’s hand stopped rubbing Villain’s hair, but he didn’t remove it from Villain’s head. Hero rushed in, going to Villain’s side and get grabbing their face in their hands, thumbing away the tears.

“Villain, shhh. Shhh, it’s okay.” Hero cooed. Villain sobbed against Hero’s hands, the gentle touches. They weren’t worthy of this kindness. They didn’t deserve Hero’s caring love. This was pity. They pitied Villain, that’s why they looked so caring in that moment. Not out of love. Why was Villain so weak to melt at the kindness, they should be worthy of them! Hero shouldn’t have to see Villain like this. “I’m here now. It’s okay.”

Hero glanced back at Superhero, eyes narrowed into a glare. “What are you doing here?!”

“I knew you would be away for a while today, Hero. And I knew you would be worried sick about your ill partner so I thought I would come and look after them for you.”

Hero’s eyes found Villain’s, searching, scanning for any sign that Superhero was lying. Villain was skittish and heaving, not meeting Hero’s eyes. There was something wrong, was it just vomiting? Being sick? No, this was different. Villain was incoherent and violent last time, now they were just… subdued and lifeless and terrified.

“You stepped over the line, Superhero,” Hero said firmly, eyes burning down at their lover. “Please wait in the living room while I help them to bed.”

Superhero’s eyes met Villain’s over Hero’s shoulder, a sadistic smile on his lips. He brought a finger to his lips and pointed down at Hero. Then drew a line across his throat and mimicked Hero being killed.

“Of course, Hero,” Superhero said easily, while Villain’s trembles intensified. Hero waited until Superhero had walked out the door before looking back at Villain.

“Vil, oh my god, I’m so sorry. Are you okay? I’m so sorry, I should have never left you.”

They’re just saying that because you’re weak, Villain thought.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t ask Superhero to come. I didn’t know they would do something as crazy as this!”

They’re tired of you. They don’t love you, if they did they would have never left. You’re exhausting, you wear people out.

“Come on, Vil. Talk to me.” Hero said, leaning forward and pressing their forehead against Villain’s. Villain could feel Hero’s warm breath fanning against their face. They weren’t even worthy of this. “Shhh. Vil, it’s okay. I’m here now and I’m not leaving.”

When Hero wrapped their arms around Villain, Villain couldn’t hold it together anymore and they broke down into sobs that wracked their entire body. Their fingers turned to claws in Hero’s shirt, bunching it and holding on and not wanting to let go.

They were weak, they were so weak that they made the people they loved weak for them. It bled through from Villain into them, and now they were breaking Hero’s heart. They didn’t deserve Hero’s heart. They didn’t deserve any of this comfort and warmth and love.

Hero held them tightly and kissed their hair and cheek and anything their lips could reach, whispering reassurances and telling them that they loved them.

When Villain’s sobs had calmed down to mere whimpers and sniffles, Hero moved them, putting one hand under their legs and the other under their shoulders and lifted them like they were a baby. Villain curled into Hero’s embrace, a deep red blush filling their face with warmth.

Hero shouldn’t have to do this, to be the strong one. Villain was the strong one! God what happened to them?! Why couldn’t they just be perfect for Hero?

Hero put them into bed, lying beside them under the covers. They tilted Villain’s head down to lie on top of Hero’s chest, hearing their heartbeat. They were a tangle of limbs.

“What about,” Villain sniffed, “Superhero?”

Hero’s eyes darkened. “Let him wait. You’re my priority, Villain. You always will be. Never forget that.”

Villain sniffed, fresh tears streaming down their cheeks. “I love you Hero.” They said even though it broke their heart to say that. Weak! So weak!

“I love you more than you’ll ever know,” Hero whispered into Villain’s hair, kissing the top of their head.

*~*~*~*~*

[whumpingandsmilinglikeanidiot]

Your average whumper, except that they are, at the same time, a heavily-conditioned, obedient, and loyal whumpee to another whumper.

[loreleiloon]

Blind Whumper

Whumper who depends on whumpee for everything and they never let them forget that. Whumper who feels whumpee up to "know what their body is like." Who always needs whumpee's hand to guide them. Who acts possessive when whumpee talks to a stranger for too long. Who makes whumpee sleep in the same bed with them because whumper has night terrors and needs whumpee near them. Whumpee can't tell them "no" because whumper is blind and needs this. When they cry at night beside whumper, they'll feel a shift. "What is it, whumpee? Why are you crying?" "I'm not--I'm okay," whumpee will try to say before whumper wraps their arms around them and kisses them, holds them, loves them. Whumpee clings to those moments. It's the only time everything feels calm, normal, safe. Whumper's kindest to them when the world is quiet. But the world isn't quiet during the day. So whumpee tries their best to keep the house still as possible. They walk on tiptoes, gingery avoiding every creaking floorboard because whumper refuses to put rugs down. Their heart jolts in their chest whenever they hear whumper shuffling along, taking slow stalking steps through each room. Whumpee holds their breath as whumper walks past, hoping, praying whumper doesn't notice their presence. They just need a moment alone. They don't want to complain, but it's just so much. Then a floorboard creaks, their chair settles, and whumper stops, tilting their ear in whumpee's direction. A grin twists their lips as they grope towards the frozen whumpee, "There you are...I missed you."

[defire]

Gang whump prompt

Whumpee is in medical school when they are kidnapped by a mob boss to be a live-in doctor for their injured members.

[pretty-face-breaker]

Am I Forgetting Anything?

c.w. reunion of an abuser and victim, mention of smoking, creepy whumper, manipulation, past torture

After the kidnapping, Nick and Hayko have their first mutual conversation about their past.

—

Mount Royal Park is grey today. A pelt of low-hanging clouds sheathe the sky. Wind moves slowly through the trees. Hayko breathes deeply and smells rotting leaves and too many cigarette butts scattered near the benches.

Nick is in his good mood clothes. Black tee, black jeans, plain coat. Hair tidy and tucked behind his ears. All of it unassuming in the way a knife in a kitchen drawer is unassuming. He’s leaning back on the bench easily, elbows folded so they’re not touching Hayko, and probably thinking that makes him a gentleman.

Hayko, as always, wants to punch him in the mouth.

They’re watching two squirrels go at it in the grass. There’s an acorn involved. One keeps lunging, the other keeps dodging, squealing every time the first one makes contact. It’s been five minutes and neither seems ready to let go.

“You know,” Nick says suddenly, eyes still on the squirrels, voice all honeyed amusement. “I really thought you’d pick somewhere more public.”

Hayko doesn’t answer immediately. He’s too busy watching the squirrel on the offensive finally snap. The smaller one lunges forward, tackles the other with a shriek, and wrestles the acorn out of its claws.

“I prefer not to waste energy trying to act comfortable,” he replies flatly. “Spectacles make me tired.”

Nick laughs in delight when the squirrel darts off victoriously and the other one spirals in circles, confused at the loss.

“So let me get this straight.” His voice is bright. “You didn’t want the illusion of safety, so you chose the objectively less safe option?”

Hayko still doesn’t look at him. His eyes follow the loser squirrel as it scampers up the nearest tree. “You don’t need seclusion to fuck my life up. You do fine in crowds.”

Nick hums. Pleased with that, apparently.

The wind picks up. Hayko shivers but doesn’t adjust his hoodie.

His classroom had been chaos all week. Every command went sideways, every lesson plan deflated midway through. He’d gone from excelling in his gentle authority to a ghost pacing the room. They could smell it on him. The fear. The humiliation, ripe as blood. 

Nick stretches his legs out and casts him a sidelong glance. “Vlad know you’re all the way out here?”

A pause.

“He knows.”

—

After Nick dropped him off, Hayko had barely made it through the door before bolting to the bathroom. He didn’t even look at Vlad. Just rushed past him, slammed the door, and vomited like his body had finally recognized it had ingested poison.

Which, in a way, it had.

The wine, under duress. The cells from Nick’s mouth after the kiss he still couldn’t understand—born of stupid, manic grief. The cigarettes, plural, when he’d told himself it would just be one. 

Vlad had come in after him wordlessly and held up his hair as he dry-heaved, cleaned the corners of his mouth with a wet cloth when it was over. Made him strong Russian tea and sat beside him on the bathroom floor as Hayko sipped at it, trembling and cold. The whole place had reeked of anxiety.

Vlad hadn’t ask him what had happened.

After an hour silently staring at the tile grout and feeling like he might puke again, Hayko had told him, flat and detached. Like reciting his own case notes.

Vlad had taken his hand and held it firmly. Hayko had always liked that unyielding fort in his mind, how little he let anything phase his force of will. “It doesn’t matter if you don’t want comfort,” he’d said, voice low. “Or if you think it’s your fault. It isn’t. It will never be.”

Hayko had nodded. Because what else could he do?

They’d gone to bed at some point, though the transition was a blur. Hayko remembered laying there, staring at the crease of unhappiness in Vlad’s mouth, feeling it wrap around him like a second blanket. He hated it. Hated the way Vlad worried. Hated himself for being the reason. Hated Nick, violently, for making him into this thing that needed to be cared for and swaddled again like a brittle bone that kept breaking.

And as always, they would survive this.

Hayko hated needing to.

—

Hayko tugs his hoodie closer around him, half from chill, half because it’s something to do with his hands. This is getting uncomfortable and he wants to leave and he’s incandescent with rage that he just can’t. He supposes he shouldn’t have gotten too comfortable with his autonomy.

Nick seems to sense that Hayko’s resolved to ride out the hour like it’s court-mandated community service—gritting his teeth through it all stony until the clock runs out.

So, of course, he provokes.

“Saw the fight between Jessie and Luke,” he says idly, as though noting the weather. “Yesterday. Messy.”

Hayko’s jaw clenches as rage flares up immediately. He forces it down with a breath, just like Dr. Carter coached him this week. In through the nose, out through the mouth. Anger is a wire waiting for contact.

“If we’re going to keep doing this, you stay the fuck out of my personal and professional life,” Hayko spits. “That includes my school. You don’t belong anywhere I’ve been invited.”

Nick doesn’t reply immediately. He shifts, leans forward a little, and his smile tightens—just a hair. “It’s sweet that you think you control how I spend my free time.”

Hayko turns to him now, really looks at him, and lets his voice cut like a blade. “I do. You don’t want one-sided communication. You don’t want death threats and venom. You want cooperation. So if you want me cooperative, then you’ll know your place. Stop pretending this is normal. We’re not exes running into each other at brunch. We’re international fucking criminals. You’re a degenerate sadist who still gets off on playing shadow puppeteer with my life.”

That does it. Hayko sees the flash in Nick’s eyes. That dead-eyed coolness Nick wears when Hayko’s gotten under his skin and he’s trying not to show it.

After a moment, Nick exhales slowly, measured. “I’ll avoid mentioning it to you.”

Hayko closes his eyes briefly and prays for strength. In, out. He finds his center again, however thin and tenuous. Then: “What else do you want to know that you haven’t already unceremoniously dug up?”

Nick leans back and mulls it over. “Not much, I’ll admit. Between your medical records, your lesson plans, your little weekend walks with Vlad…” His grin returns in a milder version. “There’s not a lot I haven’t learned. Hope you’ll forgive the invasion.”

He forces himself to stay still through each tendril of violation sliding down his throat. To give Nick nothing. Any flinch would be lapped up immediately.

Because he doesn’t believe he’s changed. Not really. People—things—like Nick don’t change. They simply adapt and become more visually palatable, like poison in a prettier bottle.

Nick continues, too pleased with himself. “But I do still want the trivia. What are you reading these days? What’s your favorite food? Favorite club?”

Hayko huffs a humorless breath. He sees the line, the bait, the glint of the hook. “Bothered that I’m seeing other people?”

Nick’s smile remains, but his eyes narrow immediately.

“Yeah,” Hayko says, tone turning sharper and sensing a tender spot. “I go out for drinks. I fuck strangers. Teachers flirt with me and I let them. I was never yours. Usually, when someone belongs to you, you don’t have to spend this much effort trying to prove it.”

Nick goes still. There’s no mask now, not even the forced charm. Just that slowly darkening mood, curling in him like a tide pulling back.

“Your flings don’t mean anything,” he says coolly, voice almost too calm. “They’re barely passable trauma coping mechanisms.”

Hayko raises an eyebrow, lips twitching. “Sure that statement wasn’t a cope in itself?”

Nick’s brow lifts, sharply, in warning. Hayko sees it and rolls his eyes, smiling anyway.

“You’re not the only one who can get off on hurting me. Thanks for initiating me into masochism, though. I really owe that one to you.”

“Are you antagonizing me on purpose?” 

“No shit.” 

Hayko sighs and looks at the ripped up tufts of grass where the squirrels were fighting, frowning at how ten minutes of their stupid animal kingdom instincts managed to mess up a perfectly respectable grass patch. Though, his own stupid instincts have destroyed a lot more.

“What… did you even want from me?” Hayko asks, feeling profoundly tired. 

He’s turned the question over until smooth, screamed about it in therapy, let it ruin night after night of sleep. He’s sewn together Nick’s piecemeal admissions and extrapolated from the facts—sadist, obsessive, some flavour of psychopath, enjoys having power over him, and is physically attracted to him. Saved his life so he feels entitled to him and therefore entitled to hurting him. 

“You keep asking that like you don’t believe my usual answers,” Nick responds coolly. 

Hayko’s hand twitches in his lap. “You don’t love me.”

“I do love you.” Nick’s arm creeps closer to him on the bench. “Love is relative. Denying it because it’s unconventional won’t do you any favors.”

Hayko laughs quietly. “Love requires understanding and there’s nothing you really understand about me. Except for my worst parts. And how finely I can be broken—” 

“In the beginning,” Nick interrupts with a long-suffering sigh, like he’s explained this to Hayko too many times. Like Hayko’s the one being unreasonable. “Yeah. You were entertaining and I really just liked tormenting you. Fine.” 

“There’s that honesty,” Hayko hisses.

“But then—”

“You found out that you’d rather torment me in your home?” 

“I started to learn things about you,” Nick cuts in. “How clever you are. Your naive do-goodism. Your work ethic. Your sheer will. Those are admirable qualities, my love. As well as your habits, hobbies, temperament.”

“Don’t fucking call me that,” Hayko bites out slowly. “And good for fucking you. You learned my personality after basically breathing down my neck for two years. That doesn’t mean anything except that you can scour for new things to manipulate me with.”

Nick leans in. Hayko leans back, shifting away from the heat of his proximity. For a moment, Nick seems content just breathing his air, studying him at a near-distance with something almost unreadable in his eyes. Then, quieter, voice lowered and tonally opaque—“Do you want an apology?”

Hayko’s breath falters. His voice trembles as he replies, not looking at him. “No.” He doesn’t have to say why. They both know. “You’re not sorry about any of it. And pretending you are won’t do me any favors.”

“I could do it in the spirit of things. Since we’re reconciling.”

Hayko’s hand tightens against the edge of the bench, white-knuckled now, his whole body tensed like wire. He can feel the throb of blood behind his teeth, the pump of it coursing through his chest like he’s moments from bracing for a blow. “You kidnapped me at gunpoint and forced the reconciliation,” he says, voice low and shaking with anger. “This is psychotic diplomacy. You’re not going to mindfuck me into thinking it’s something else.”

Nick watches him, unmoving. Then, a small smile curls the edge of his mouth like Hayko’s missed the punchline to some private joke. He leans back again, finally returning the space he’d invaded. His posture relaxes.

“I don’t feel remorse much,” he says evenly. “Told you that before.”

Hayko doesn’t shift. He barely breathes. 

“But,” Nick continues, almost thoughtful, “I regret what I did insofar as it meant I had to chase you halfway across the continent.” He looks at him. “I really did miss you, you know.”

The silence between them stretches. A shadow passes over Hayko’s face. “I missed my toys too, after I smashed them to pieces as a kid,” he mutters. “So I get it.”

Nick exhales a dry breath and tilts his head toward the park, eyes following the treeline. He shifts slightly, crossing one ankle over the other to stretch.

“I missed your company.”

Hayko stays silent for a few seconds, parsing that admission and wondering if he should give it any more weight than he would give any of Nick’s schemes. It’s more vulnerable, but Nick knows how to leverage vulnerability when it gives him an inch of forgiveness.

“I want you to admit what you did,” Hayko says at last, quiet. “I don’t want your humanity.”

Nick rolls his tongue slowly across the tops of his teeth, as if considering what might cost less—compliance, or performance. As if calculating whether this confession undermines the manipulation of the past hour.

“Fine,” he says, flatly. “I carved my initials into your shoulder. Kidnapped you. Held you captive. Beat and tortured you. Broke into your house. Coerced you into representing criminals. Coerced you into moving in with me—though, I’m not really giving you that one,” he adds with a lazy wave of his fingers. “Continued to torture you during your stay, mostly for fun. Mostly to get under your precious Vladimir’s skin. Drugged you. Provoked you. Strung you up like a ham.”

“That’s enough,” Hayko whispers, voice cracked open.

Nick doesn’t stop. “Cuffed you to a radiator,” he says mildly. “Am I forgetting anything?”

Hayko closes his eyes.

He sits with the silence, lets the weight of it settle across his shoulders. There it is. No denial, no reframe. Not even his usual tightrope act of rationalization. He said it. All the things Hayko survived and catalogued, the memories he’s been trying to bury with work and therapy and sheer will—confirmed like a ledger.

So Nick knew. He knew exactly what he did. Which means he knew it was wrong.

Which means he did it anyway.

Something in Hayko’s chest goes brittle and hollow, and for a second he regrets ever asking. There’s a strange comfort in doubt, in believing maybe Nick was just deluded. That it was all some twisted justification he’d convinced himself of. But now there’s no confusion left to soften the awareness. A man who knew, who still knows—and didn’t care.

"But you love me, right?"

His voice is nearly inaudible, more exhale than question, as if speaking it aloud might make it less hideous.

Nick smiles. “I love you,” he says warmly. “So much that I want to destroy you, really.”

Hayko’s breath wavers.

This is beyond anything he knows how to metabolize. He doesn’t know how to hold himself upright in this tetherless conversation. The worst part is that Nick’s clarity doesn’t calm him, like he’d hoped. It undoes him. 

Because it means Nick could’ve stopped.

And then Nick moves.

Stands up in a smooth motion, brushing imaginary lint from his sleeves, casual as anything. Hayko flinches like something’s been yanked out from under him.

“Hour’s up,” Nick says breezily. “You’re free to go.”

Hayko just stares at him slack-jawed, his eyes tracking the slow arc of Nick’s hand lifting in a jaunty, mocking wave. Then Nick turns, walking off down the path and not sparing him another glance. Hayko watches the shape of him getting smaller. And smaller.

And something in him cracks.

He lurches to his feet, heart pounding, the words leaving his throat before his brain can catch them.

“We’re meeting again tomorrow!”

His voice hits the air like gunfire, ragged and loud and furious. It shocks even him.

Nick slows. Glances over his shoulder, smirking faintly and saying nothing.

—

@doveotions @thewhumpstuff @thatsthewhump @adamantem-rose @lonesome–hunter @whumpsorbet @whumpasaurus101 @lektricfergus @downrivergirl914 @burtlederp @redwingedwhump @nicolepascaline @ifbtnna  @whumperfully​​ ​@brittaunfiltered09 @absolute-bean-loverr @alexmundaythrufriday

If you like my stuff, consider supporting me on ko-fi! :D

[generic-whumperz]

[evil-by-noon]

Alright so Hero and Supervillain right? Except Hero is OBSESSED with Supervillain. She has a respawn power so is really the only one who can go up against Supervillain regularly. She was originally actually a much more subtle stalker before Supervillain became a villain.

Then, she realized she could follow Supervillain AND get clout, plus draw Supervillain's attention more, as Hero.

Supervillain hates her with a burning passion and finds more elaborate and excruciating ways to kill Hero each time as a sort of deterrent for seeking her out, but it doesn't work...

Of course no one has any sympathy for Supervillain, she spends literally all her time doing essentially terrorism... And meanwhile everyone is incredibly sympathetic and admiring of Hero for trying to stop this menace.

Supervillain might capture Hero at some point and perhaps even torture her, but after Supervillain is captured and Hero has power over her, it's really fucked.

Or maybe Hero does successfully persuade Supervillain to stop her evil deeds... Maybe they do start that relationship Hero fantasized about, except then Supervillain slowly realizes that Hero is creepy as fuck.

Maybe Supervillain realizes Hero is disturbed and uses it to her advantage? Plays into it... (Maybe to then realize it's way worse than she thought and she's out of her depth.)

[whumpy-wyrms]

happy pride month to THESE GUYS

[graceful-not]

*grabs you* if the members of the found family aren't at least a little bit fucked up about each other what's even the point man. if the lines aren't even a little bit blurred when it comes to roles what's the point. buddy. pal. what's even the point of having a found family and then imposing strict nuclear family roles unto them, or never allowing the roles they do have to be bent or broken. what's even the point if one character (assuming they're the same age) is ALWAYS being taken care of by the other without it being related to one of their arcs. what's even the point if the found family doesn't take care of each other. what's even the point if they're normal about having people they are so so close to so as to trust with nearly everything and stick with and sweat bleed and die for. what's even the point if the roles arent flexible and based on a foundation of trust over any kind of imposed relationship, and the dynamics shift for what is needed in the situation. what's even the point if they're not a little bit in love about it. they need to LOVE EACH OTHER. what's the point if they are being kept at a distance the same to that of an acquaintance and it's not part of their greater arc or bc of their character. let them sleep together. let them cuddle. let them kiss (not necessarily romantically!!! on the forehead or the hand or a little peck on the top of a head). I'm so sick of sanitized found families I need them to care about each other so much it hurts they need to think about the others way too much do you get it. I don't want it to be a replacement for a real family I want them to Frankenstein together a new creation it needs to be elevated it needs to be bleeding and raw it needs to be REAL I want it to be ALIVE. WHY are your found family dynamics so fucking DEAD!!!! STOP SHOVELLING ROTTING MEET INTO MY MOUTH I CAN TELL ITS DEAD I CAN FUCKING TELL WHEN ITS DIVIDED SO CLEARLY BY CARETAKER/WHUMPEE WHY IS IT SO ONE-WAY THE FAMILY TAKES CARE OF EACH OTHER THEY DONT NEED TO BE JUST ONE ROLE. A PERSON CAN BE A FATHER A MOTHER A MENTOR A TEACHER. A BROTHER AND FRIEND IN SOLIDARITY OR EVEN A LOVER IF IT IS NEEDED. DO YOU GET IT. DO YOU GET IT.

[pretty-face-breaker]

one of my favorite tropes has always been faux/very very strained/idk what to call it domesticity between a whumper and whumpee and i think you do it so well with nick and hayko! i now give you list of things i have imagined about them:

going on a nice date! but hayko has to wear long sleeves no matter the weather so nobody sees the bruises :)

cooking dinner together! but the knife nick is cutting vegetables with is the same one he used on hayko just a few nights ago :)

hayko wearing nick's clothes! but it's because all of his are covered in his own blood :)

i could go on but theyre your boys not mine. all this to say i love them and you have such a gift when it comes to writing

YESSS. The strained domesticity.

Every moment wrought with fear.

Every artifice of kindness coming with the knowledge that it's a negotiation between them. The unpredictability of it.