#ex-whumper

[paingoes]

Crash Out

Itch

(Content: ex-whumper, whumper turned whumpee, physical violence, addiction, past abuse, fainting, minor insects/insect bites, minor ableist language, homophobia mention)

The old irritation was back and biting. Throwing his phone into the creek had helped a little bit. Being away from the throne had helped a little bit. The drugs only ever made it worse and the drugs were all he had. He twitched endlessly. He hadn’t realize how badly he needed it until the urge was right on top of him.

He couldn’t break anything around Lorelai. The only time he’d tried that, she’d starting packing her bags, and they’d had to pay the hotel staff off for the damages. It was the closest she’d come to leaving him, right then and there. Nonstarter. 

She noticed it this time, but she mistook it for withdrawal. He was seldom down long enough for the lapse to start really hurting, but she could still see the signs when they came. She ran her fingers over his temple in an attempt to be soothing. It only made the burning worse. He bit into his own hand just to feel the pressure.

Another club. Better maintained on the inside than the others had been. It was a pity they had set it out in the middle of the swamp like that. The whole city was built on top of the wetland. The air burned with heat even at the darkest time of night. Lorelai had bought a pointy pair of pink sunglasses and a snapback that said LIFE’S A BEACH. She lost both of them an hour after they had entered the club and soon after he lost sight of her all together.

Thank god.

He knew so intuitively what he had to do. His knocked his shoulder straight into the boy’s side as he passed. The drink spilled and his hands didn’t leave his pockets. The club was crowded and his movement was subtle enough for the whole thing to look accidental, if you weren’t paying close attention.

“Say excuse me, asshole.” He heard the boy hiss out from behind him. Paris had to wipe the smirk off his face before he turned around.

“Who the fuck do you think you’re talking to?” It melted into a glare. He didn’t need to force the irritation into his voice; it was right beneath the surface. He only needed to reshape it. It did not de-escalate from there.

The kid swung on him. Paris slipped to his right. He knew it was unfair. He was — for once — the more sober one in the exchange. His reflexes were overtrained. It didn’t matter. He’d been given an opening. He swung back. 

He pulled the punch, the same way he would have if it had been Delta. Not trying to kill him. Not even enough to seriously injure him. Just to do it. He got a few hits in just like that. There wasn’t any adrenaline in his body. All that existed was release.

It was a very funny feeling when the other party fought back.

The fight had to be mutual; he knew that ahead of time. He wasn’t crazy enough to just beat a stranger unprovoked. Still, the resistance he received came as a surprise. He wasn’t used to encountering it while in this headspace. In spite of what he’d planned, it caught him a bit off guard. Not enough to change the outcome, just kind of diminishing what he could get out of it. It shifted back into a normal fight just as soon as the kid had recovered. He was so fucking sick of those. The way they were matched up was decent, though. He gave more than he got, enough that he was momentarily sated. 

The bouncers got in the way before he could finish, though. They dragged both of them outside, practically throwing them onto the pavement. Paris landed on his feet, twisting out of their grasp. The other boy landed roughly on his side. All too familiar. The boy sat up, trying to struggle to his feet. The only reason Paris didn’t immediately kick him back down was because he was aware on some level how hard the concrete must be. No broken bones. That was a rule.

He shook his wrists out, ready to draw even more out of the encounter if he could afford it. He rolled his eyes as the club’s doors opened again and the boys’ friends came to the rescue. God fucking dammit.

He was right — the concrete was hard. They were all so fucking drunk and uncoordinated, but there were a lot of them. It was like fighting a moving wall. He wasn’t ready to be on the defensive. Not while he was like this. The most Delta had ever given him in return were cat scratches — sometimes electric shocks, if he was really freaking out. He’d barely even feel them until afterwards. Here, the sharpness of the pain took him out of the mood instantly. The one it forced him into was even stranger. For some reason, he started laughing. One of their fists caught the side of his face. Another half dragged him backwards, making him lose his balance even from a sitting position. He got the preternatural instinct to protect his skull. He felt the hard edge of someone’s boot collide with his interlaced knuckles just as soon as he did so. He’d just barely spared himself the head trauma.

“Not the head, dumbass,” One of them slurred. 

“Yeah, dumbass.” Paris was still laughing hysterically. Someone kicked him in the stomach, cutting him off mid-breath.

“He’s fucking insane. Like, mental sickness.” The boy he’d initially started the fight with had started to walk away. “Leave him alone.”

“Pussy.” Paris coughed. He flinched as one of the shapes above him moved, but another hit didn’t come. They withdrew.

He sat up slowly. His knuckles were bloodied, though he did not know if it was his or not. He glanced back at the club doors. The bouncers had been watching the whole thing. They shook their head. No re-entry. As if.

When he was back on his feet, his vision immediately got spotty. He thought it was another insect hallucination, but the movement was much more rapid. Like ink blots. The only reason he bothered to distinguish was because the hallucinations did not usually take up his entire field of vision. They didn’t threaten to take him down again. He blinked in and out of wakefulness and somehow did not stop walking until he heard the sound of waves crashing. Nobody could see the ocean at this time of night, only the darkness that held it. The beachgrass was right off the road. He took about five steps into the sand before he collapsed.

==========

It was the that heat first woke him up. The sun had only just risen over the ocean and already it was unbearable. All his skin felt dry and course. He rose his head up slowly from the dune and immediately regretted it. He hadn’t felt the soreness until he moved; it did not go away again once he stilled.

He blinked. A small caiman laid within the reeds a few feet from his face. They watched each other for some time. Little insects crawled rapid and clumsy throughout the pale grass and into the sand. There was an itch in his arms and his calves. He knew he’d spent the better part of the night getting eaten alive. 

He crawled up through the sand. The pavement was too hot to touch; he forced himself to rise. He shook the sand out from his shirt and hair. The sweat that was forming on his skin moistened it, coating him in a gross, muddy substance. The gnats buzzed incessantly. His mouth felt like cotton. Hell on fucking earth.

He trudged the path back to the motel room. He was lucky the spatial memory was still holding up, foggy as all his other facilities had become. Otherwise he’d have been totally lost. Lorelai…wasn’t as good with directions. Hopefully she’d made it back okay.

When he entered into the room, Lorelai was sitting up in the bed in just her camisole. The blanket was crumpled up around her. She looked up expectantly as he walked in. She wasn’t alone.

“Oh my god, you’re still alive.” Lorelai gawked. “Did you get kicked out of the club?”

“No,” he lied.

“So you just left me there alone for no reason?” She asked.

“Yes.”

“Very cool of you. I was worried.”

“Clearly not that fucking worried.” His eyes traced over the girl sitting cross-legged on the bed beside her. She was wearing Lorelai’s hoodie, which was technically his hoodie. She was also hitting his vape. She didn’t take any visible offense.

“I should probably head out, anyway.” The girl unfolded her legs and stepped into her slides. She gave Paris a quick once-over as she stood up. “You’d better take some Nexgard. The sand fleas burrow.”

He could immediately feel the itch, even knowing it was psychosomatic. She slipped the door open.

“You’ll call me?” Lorelai called after her hopefully. The girl winked without smiling and disappeared behind the closing door.

Paris held one open hand up in the direction she had left in. The universal — one-handed — what-the-fuck? gesture.

“What?” Lorelai’s tone was defensive. “You’re not my boyfriend.”

“We are on the damn lam and you’re inviting people back to our room?”

“Relax. She’s rebel. She was at Occupy.”

He could’ve guessed. Any breed of deviant sexuality typically signaled rebel allegiance. God knew Empire wouldn’t have them. That didn’t necessarily put his mind at ease, but he’d have preferred to be caught by one of the rebel groups over Nezu if it really came down to it. Lorelai held up a large envelope from the nightstand.

“She asked if I could drop this off for her at Coda since we’re already headed North.” She smiled a little.

“Fuck no.”

“Well, it’s my ship and I’m driving, so we’re probably gonna. But we can talk about it.” 

There was definitely an edge to her voice. He didn’t answer, knowing there was nothing he could do but irritate her further. He moved past her.

“You should shower,” she suggested helpfully.

“I’m gonna shower.” 

……..

tags:

@catnykit @snakebites-and-ink @vivulapom @scoundrelwithboba @whatwhump

@pumpkin-spice-whump @deluxewhump @fuckass1000 @fuckcapitalismasshole @defire

@micechomper @writereleaserepeat

[fleur-a-whump]

Overloaded (#1)

Preventative Measures

so like. this is a thing. been toying with this little guy in my head for a few weeks and like, almost nothing is concrete but I'm hoping I'll turn it into a series.

content: ex-villain whumpee, hero/leader whumper, manipulative whumper, just like a LOT of manipulation, collars/collaring, referenced electrocution, low self esteem, subtle threats, guilt trips

I've never done this before, let me know if I missed something!!

masterlist | next

----------

Villain has finally been given a chance. A chance to prove he's more than what the whole city has always thought of him, more than what his father raised him to be. He wanted to do good in the world. The heroes were finally giving him a chance to be more than they've always thought of him. 

...or so he thought.

He gulps as he stares at the shock collar in Team Leaders hands. It's a small thing, sleek and unassuming. But he knows exactly what it is because Team Leader had shown him how it worked.  The man is currently speaking to him nonchalantly. Villain should really be listening to the hero that holds the key to a better life. But that collar... shakes Villain's faith in Team Leader. Just a little.

"Villain," the man says shortly. Impatiently. Shit.

Villain jumped to attention, nerves only growing worse. 

"Sorry, sorry! I'm just-just a little confused. I thought... I was a part of the team..." He tries to keep the heartbreak out of his voice. He doesn't quite succeed. 

"If you'd listen..." the Team Leader sighed deeply. Villain was going to throw up. 

Team Leader began again, speaking slowly as if to a child. Or a stupid person. Villain thinks he fell into the latter column. "I was just saying this will help you better mesh with the team. I'm sure you've noticed people are a little nervous with you around."

Hostile. Villain would use the word hostile.

"Given your past, everything you've done," the man drawled. Villain can't hold back a wince. 

"So, to ease their worries, and allow them to see how great I know you can be, this is just a little precautionary measure. A bit of a show."

Ryan swallowed thickly.

"So... It wouldn't be used..."

He tries to keep himself from thinking about electricity burning the sensitive skin of his throat as it shoots down his spine and into his skull to paralyze him. He's familiar enough with the feeling; he doesn't need to imagine it.

Team Leader gives him an easy smile. "As long as there are no issues, of course not."

"...Issues?"

"Oh, stuff that'll never happen. Just breaking any of the rules."

Villain arched his brow, slightly dubious. "Rules.”

"Yeah, like, follow orders, don't fraternize with any of your old contacts, don't leave our level, don't work unsupervised, don't harm the team. Stuff you've been doing this whole time."

"Wait, don't leave the level?

"I mean, that's pretty obvious, bud. If we can't see you, we can't know that you're following the rest of the rules."

He nods mutely, gaze wandering. this whole thing just. He didn't know. It hurt.

Team Leader gently tilted his head up. "Villain, I'm only doing this because I trust you. I know you'd never do anything that could jeopardize your place here."

He doesn't trust that Villain is a hero though, obviously. That he's good. Because Villain could never be good. Not now. Not after all he's done. 

No, he can only hope to do good. And the only way he'll be able to do that is with the team. If this is what it takes to ease his team into working with him, if this is what it takes for him to stay, then he'll do it.

"O-okay."

"Atta boy, Villain! I knew you could do it, man."

Villain nods, trying to give him a smile.

Team Leader moves towards him all too quickly, and he can't help the flinch. The man doesn't seem to notice—or at least he doesn't acknowledge it—and is soon once again gently tilting Villain's chin up from where it had fallen. 

Villain fights the urge to lean into the touch.

While he's distracted, Team Leader swiftly brings the collar, already disengaged and bent open at the hinges, and presses it to Villain's skin. 

Villain jolts at the cold metal and fights to swallow as it's closed around his neck.

The locking mechanism clicks right up against his spine. He can't help the shudder that trickles down his back at the finality of the sound.

"I'm so proud of you, bud," Team Leader says with a big smile and a ruffle of Villain's shaggy curls.

The tightness in his chest eases, just a little. A little part of him flares in anger at how easily he's comforted. He doesn't deserve the comfort.

But he's trying. The collar now fit snuggly around his neck, like it was made for him, is proof of that.

--------------

ps ex-villain whumpee on the hero team but whumped by the hero team is my all-time favorite trope and it is so hard to find I have finally hit the point of needing to produce my own story to scratch the itch

[whumpbees]

Whumpees having a moment of defiance, of bravery-

Only to have whumper shut them up with a single look.

[cepheusgalaxy]

Intimate whumpers who exploit whumpee's touch-starvedness my beloved

[oros-ash3s]

Takes place in the AVOIDANCE arc

༉‧₊˚.

TW: Domestic abuse, toxic relationships, dehumanization

One thing I don’t think I talk enough about Atlas and Daphne’s relationship is how completely messy they both are.

Seen in past fics, Atlas is very compliant and excuses Daphne’s behaviour more often than not. He doesn’t break things off with her even as much as it’s obvious that he’s uncomfortable with her, his desperation to not be alone overtaking any logical thought. And Daphne uses this, pushing him around, prodding at all his vulnerabilities, isolating him from his friends.

But Atlas is not completely delusional to the way that she is. In fact, he and Daphne fight. A lot.

Atlas has a difficult time controlling his emotions. It was what he was built to do, for so many long, tired years. But through the torture and brain damage and memory loss, this training ended up reversing, the little voice in the back of his head always reminding himself to hold his tongue suddenly disappearing from his mind. By the time he is 21 he still struggles with this, blowing his fuse quicker than ever.

With Daphne, he can either get uncontrollably angry within seconds, or become extremely compliant just as fast. Just as he can’t tell when Daphne will either be sickeningly sweet or bitter and cold, no one is able to tell when he’ll snap and lose it or just take it with a sort of angry silence.

He screams at Daphne a lot. When her treatment finally becomes too much, he unleashes all his anger onto her, yelling and screaming in a way that is all too familiar to how he was when he first escaped Eden. They get into these extreme fights, most of the time in the privacy of her apartment, and most times, Daphne ends up overpowering Atlas, in some way or other. Threatening him, throwing things, scaring him. Anything to regain the control she has over him. But sometimes, Atlas storms out, yelling about how they’re over.

Daphne always laughs, and yells back at him that he’ll be back. To her credit, it’s true. No matter how many times they fight, no matter how many times she hits him, or pushes him too far, or insults Wren and Alastair, or embarrasses him.

He always comes back.

༉‧₊˚.

“What the fuck is your problem?”

Daphne stumbles back at his push, expression flickering for a second from the smug look she had been previously wearing, souring instead. Atlas’ words are growled, that low, inhuman noise falling from the back of his throat. He is too angry to care, fists clenched as he glares all squinty-eyed, violet eyes glowing faintly.

The space on the couch where Alastair used to occupy is now empty.

Great. Just what he fucking needed.

Daphne feigns innocence. “What? I can’t even kiss my boyfriend now?” She asks with an annoyed huff, irritation tensing her movements. This outburst was not one she was expecting — not in a place so public, the common rooms open for anyone to enter at any moment. But then again, she’d been toeing the line with him lately. It was only a matter of time before he exploded on her. Again.

Oh well. Not like it was going to change things. He could throw a hissy fit all he wanted, what did she care. She wasn’t the one yelling, after all.

“You know full fucking well what you were doing. You were— You were just trying to mess with him. Trying to hurt him.”

Atlas shakes as he speaks, voice raising with every word. There are many things he can let slide, many things he’ll allow. To avoid a fight, to keep the peace. But this, this he won’t allow. Not again. Not from his fucking girlfriend. Anger clouds his judgement, and although she may have hit him before, may have said shit to him before, this suddenly seems all the worse. Because for once, she isn’t even trying to pretend. She’s treating him plainly as Wren and the others have called it out.

Like he’s no more than a fucking toy on display.

You’re better this way, 792. This is better for you. You don’t know what you want, what you need. But we…. we do.

He wasn’t anyone’s fucking pet.

༉‧₊˚.

I love you and I hate you, and I'm losing my mind

And you tell me all the time that

This will pass and that I'm gonna be fine

We're such a mess together

You make me lose my temper

— “Using You” by Mars Argo

taglist \\ @ohagiwrites @bloodinkandashes @corinneglass @icantthinkofablognameatm @vesanal @inky-anathemata @bioniclechronicles @seastarblue @gr3yhellh0und @aalinaaaaaa @shadow-of-tea-and-tea @robinshandhurts @ieppiq @sugaredparchment @lunaeuphternal @ifmasonbasonwasawriter @steh-lar-uh-nuhs @blackboxwarrior-mkultra @lancedoncrimsonwings @sharkblizzardblogs @scoundrelwithboba @cepheusgalaxy @cacophonyofwords @theink-stainedfolk

[distracted-obsessions]

For Villain Stuff: Ex-Villain has joined the team and they're all pretty tense at first. But they all begin to warm up to Villain ever so slightly-nothing too crazy, but not nothing either. Villain even becomes something a little almost like friends with A. But then something happens. Maybe a member of the team/the whole team is just very stressed and Villain does something slightly off at the wrong time, and the stressed teammate/whole team except A just goes off on them saying terrible stuff. It's so bad that Villain runs off/leaves. Then the next day, A has to find out what happened from the remorseful teammate/team and how Villain is gone. And this makes A realize how they all, them included, really should have given Villain more of a chance and A tells the rest of the team how hard Villain is trying.

Then also the even more awkward situation once Villain comes back, still feeling slightly betrayed by the team and assuming A feels the same way too, as the others try to apologize/make up for it and A tries to regain their friendship.

Hero woke to the sound of an alarm. It was their least favorite sound by far since it wasn't their personal alarm but the 'everyone get up right now before we all die' alarm.

They rolled out of bed, not bothering to put on daytime clothes as they stumbled towards the war room. They found the team already there, all of them looking grim, and Villain noticeably missing.

Hero winced, remembering yesterday. Teammate had been in one of their moods yesterday and Villain had made a joke about them being a prickly bastard. Teammate had snapped back at him, saying that he was one to talk with the kind of 'prickliness' he used to show the team. Villain had laughed it off but then the others had piled on, mentioning things he had done and it had gotten a little personal. Personal enough that Villain had just left the room without a word.

"Hey, guys," Hero said, rubbing his eyes and yawning. "Villain still sleeping?"

The team all shared glances but said nothing.

"Leader?" Hero asked hesitantly. "What's going on? Where's Villain?"

Leader sighed, turning her attention to the computer screen. It showed a list of various villains, fences, and identity brokers. "He's gone. We don't know where or if he left with anything but his tracking anklet was on his bedside table. And he's nowhere in the base."

Hero felt the blood drain from their face. They knew yesterday was less then pleasant but was it really enough to make him run? They glanced over Leader's shoulder and realized that the list was a list of Villain's former associates. They felt a flare of rage at that being the teams first thought. It was almost enough to overpower their own guilt for thinking the same.

"Oh come on!" Hero said, pressing a button to t,urn off the screen. "He's not going to just run back to villainy after one bad day!"

Leader gave them a confused look. "What do you mean, one bad day? What bad day?"

"I mean yesterday." Hero looked around at the team finding only confused faces. "You guys were pretty rough on him, you know."

"We were just talking shop," Youngest said. "We do that all the time."

"But do we do it in front of the villains?" Hero asked. "He was really uncomfortable. He left the room."

"It wasn’t that bad," Teammate said, rolling their eyes.

Hero turned to Teammate and raised an eyebrow. "You personally called his life's goal that we thwarted only like two months ago 'a child's temper tantrum'. I don't think I'm the only one who thinks that might be a little hurtful."

Teammate sipped their coffee and said nothing.

"Anyway, he didn't just go back to villainy over that!" Hero said firmly. They remembered the look on Villain's face as he left, clicking through his phone as he mumbled about knowing who his real friends were. "...Probably," they added, less sure.

Leader came over and put a hand on Hero's shoulder. "It's ok, Hero. We'll find him. And we'll deal with any consequences that arise."

Hero nodded and walked back out of the war room. This was going to need daytime clothes.

...

Eight hours. Eight hours and no sign of Villain. Hero was not one to give up hope but they knew how good Villain was at disappearing when he needed to.

Hero had just been ready to take a break for lunch when they heard the sound of someone hissing and spitting, probably while being dragged in handcuffs. They knew the sound well but there was something familiar about it.

"Will you lay off?! I know where we're going! I live here, remember?"

The whole team turned towards the door and watched as four cops dragged Villain into the war room. They threw Villain into the room and Villain, who's hands were cuffed behind his back, stumbled forward and just barely managed to twist his body to sit in the chair that Teammate pulled out for him. His glare was vicious.

"Where the hell did you find him?" Leader asked, staring at Villain in surprise.

"I went out to get an Irish Coffee," Villain said, passing that same glare to Leader.

"Six states away?" One of the cops asked.

"Without your tracker?" Leader asked.

"Or telling anyone?" Teammate asked.

Villain squirmed around until he was sitting down in the chair properly, looking like he was trying to pretend that he wasn't pouting. "I spent my twenties in that town. I wanted that specific Irish Coffee. I took public transit. I used my agency ID. I didn't exactly try to hide. What, did you want me to leave a note?"

"Preferably," Leader said. She sighed and waved the cops away. They left, leaving Villain and the team alone.

There was a moment of silence before Villain leaned forward, rattling the cuffs. "Can I get these off or have I been officially been given villain status again?"

"Villain, now really isn't the time for you to be defensive. You're the one-"

"No, I think I can be defensive all I want!" Villain said. "How long did it take for you to put out an APB? I know you canceled my card after what, 30 minutes?"

"Villain," Leader started. "You have to understand that-"

"No! No, you have to understand! How long do I have to work with you to get some trust? I thought that I might have enough trust that you would at least wait a full day before assuming I fell back into old temper tantrums." He looked Teammate when he said that. They didn't meet his eyes.

Villain sighed. "Look. Just uncuff me. I'll go put my tracker back on and I won't take it off until whatever new tracker you ordered while I was gone gets here."

Leader sighed again and helped Villain out of the cuffs. "Look, we just need more communication. Ok?"

Villain shrugged, standing and rubbing his wrists. "Great. I'm going to put the tracker back on and then make myself an Irish Coffee." Villain frowned. "Since the cops spilled mine."

The team watched Villain leave again and Hero looked at the other three before calling out, "Am I invited?"

Villain poked his head back in, looking at Hero critically. "Did you cancel my card?"

"No?"

"Of course you're invited! I'll make you one." Villain smiled at Hero but Hero couldn't miss the slightly vicious note in his eyes as he walked out. Hero followed after and glanced back at the team.

"You all need to figure out how to fix that." Hero pointed at them in turn then walked away to follow Villain. I'll have to fix my end.

[bilightningwhumper]

Duct Tape- Rex (Boy)

For Issue No 38 of @whumpers-monthly

A Hero's Promise Masterlist

CW/TW: blood, fictional racism, dehumanization, implied transphobia, implied fade-to-black noncon ending

[Some context: Boy (later to be named Rex) is a rescued to-be-reformed villain, but not all the heroes are happy about that]

Boy

“Grab it!”

Boy didn’t have time to react as his arm was yanked had before he was thrown into a nearby supply closet. They let him go, but not before pushing him into the shelves on the back wall. He winced, gripping the shelves to stay upright, his ribs screaming. The door shut with a firm snap behind three masked men. Two stood over him while the third locked the door.

“Wha- ugh!”

Stars danced in his eyes as he fell to the floor, his jaw throbbing.

“Shut up, fae scum.”

He couldn’t tell which of the men were talking. Probably the one who punched him.

“Make sure it doesn’t have any weapons on it.”

Kicking out, Boy tried to stand again, only to be pinned to the floor by a boot on his back, grinding into his spine. Still, he struggled despite it.

These were supposed to be the good guys. Harper told him that. So what was going on? There was no way they didn’t know he wasn’t allowed weapons. So why would he have one? Why attack him? Had he done something wrong leaving the assessment?

“Help! Somebody, hel- guh-”

Another boot swung into his line of vision, hitting him square in the nose. He could taste iron. Hopefully it wasn’t broken.

“I told you to shut up, bastard. Where’s the… here.”

The sound of thick tape being unwound and ripped was his only warning before duct tape was forced over his mouth as his head was held in place.

He couldn’t breathe. Pain radiated through his limbs. It only got worse as they wrenched his arms up behind his back. More duct tape was wrapped tight around his wrists. They rolled him over, making it harder to breathe through his blood-clogged nose. Those groping hands made their way up his sides to- fuck. Fuck!

“Somethin’ on his chest, boss.”

The assumed leader of the crew’s eyes glittered through the slit in his mask. “Well, well, looks like the fairy is hiding something. Tear its shirt off and let’s see what we find.”

Boy’s eyes widened as he kicked out again, trying to get free even as spots danced in his eyes. “Mmm, mmm!”

It was no use.

They hauled up by his arms, the leader left to rip his flimsy shirt down the middle. All of them froze as they took in the binder around his chest.

He glared at them, trying to hold onto some kind of dignity. Even if his vision was going in and out of focus, he just needed to hang on. Just until someone… No, those were the good guys. Someone would save him… Right?

His resolve quickly crumbed as the leader spoke, a smile clear in his smug voice. “Well, boys, looks like we have a special treat on our hands.”

Everything went dark after that.

I haven't made a masterlist yet, so let me know if you want to be on a taglist for A Hero's Promise before (or after) I do. [now made the masterlist, but you're still welcome to ask to be on the taglist!]

[fuckclimatechange]

does anyone have series recs for villain whump?

Ive read almost every villain whumpee story i can find on this app but pls lmk if u have any recommendations!!

[clickerflight]

Whump week: It made you stronger

@week-of-whump

Masterlist

Part 6

Yooooo! Last one. This last bit was so good to write, and so cathartic to write. I know this was my story, I know what I did, but it still HURTS! Actually, if I need to cry on demand, I think about Ichimaru and it gets me every time.

Content: centipede monster whumper, ex slave whumpee, mention of minor death, mind control, grief, creepy whumper

.................................................

“So, this is where you ended up.”

Souka stood, weapons at his sides. He was grown now, older, wiser, and more powerful than he had been when he had last seen the woman standing in front of him. 

Leara, the lady of the household he had been a slave in. The lady of the household where his best friend had died in his arms. The lady of the household where, just that evening, all of the slaves had been freed. 

Souka was grown, now, and he was the kind of hero he had been named after. A slave who rose up to free others, and strike down the masters. 

“I almost didn’t recognize you,” she churred. “It’s good to see you again. You look quite well.”

He sneered at her. He had exhausted his voice already for the day while directing slaves to safety, and he very much doubted this woman knew any form of sign language. 

“What, nothing to say to me, oh great Souka?”

Souka simply lifted his weapons, ready to cut down another blight. 

“Oooh, how scary,” she said, and it hit Souka that she wasn’t begging like the other ones. She wasn’t groveling or ordering servants about. She simply smiled, and he noticed, not for the first time, that her teeth were sharper than they should be. 

Souka had been too young, too inexperienced to see it when he was 14. Now he could, though. 

The woman began to transform as she stepped forward, lengthening and segmenting. 

“You know, your namesake was my slave at one point, too. He escaped, much more on his own merit than the way you go away,” she hissed, her body becoming chitinous. Souka avoided her eyes. He knew what she was, now. Her body became longer and longer, awful clicking legs echoing on the walls as she circled the room, blocking the exits with her centipede body. 

“He came back, he rescued slave after slave,” she said, twisting and contorting to try and catch Souka’s eye so she could weave a spell over him. “Then he came here. To me. He was more prepared though.”

Souka struck. She flinched back, but he managed to sever a couple of legs. She screamed, twisting and striking at him, and he dodged quickly to the middle of the room, sword at the ready. 

“He was slower than you, I suppose,” she grumbled. “But you’ll fall, all the same. He came here and looked me in the eyes, declared that he was the savior of the slaves, but he was already mine. I suppose you’re a little smarter than him, hmmm? Or maybe you learned your lessons a bit better as a slave, not to look your betters in the eyes.”

Souka took a deep breath. He wouldn’t rise to her jibes. He stayed calm and rushed her again, this time getting in a deep cut on her body and dodging away as green blood oozed from the wound. 

Leara dove for him over and over again, only getting wounds for her efforts before she scuttled back, circling and guarding the exits again. 

“Oooooh, you’re little white haired friend would be so proud of you, wouldn’t he? He’s the one who named you, right?”

Souka didn’t flinch, he didn’t let a single tell show on his face that she was broaching a painful subject. 

“Ah, yes. Ichimaru. That was his name, right? He was older than you by a little, protective little thing. Sickly little thing. Did you know at that time that he was putting so much of his hope in you because he knew he wouldn’t make it out?”

Souka continued to study her for an opening, planning his next attacks, but her words stung. He hadn’t known at the time. He’d guessed at it later, but never let himself dwell on it.It had hurt too much.

 He had let Ichimaru build him up slowly over months, let himself hope that maybe there was more to the world than being a nameless slave who knew nothing but pain and work, and then-

“It’s always annoying when the slaves get sick. Their work slows down and whipping them at that point only loses me workers. And while that is annoying, it is almost fun. I like watching the moral sink even lower than it was before, watching everyone cry for the lost connections. Watching you, my little hopeless slave boy, weep over that cold dead body for hours was so much fun. You had really dared to think you’d be getting out of here. That you’d be something someday. And then you lost everything once again.”

Souka could feel his hands shaking. He remembered that night. He remembered the pain and the anguish. He still cried at night, sometimes, thinking about Ichimaru. If only he could have survived just a little bit longer. Then Anisha would have taken both of them in and he would have gotten help. 

“I heard you and your ilk were looking for where his body was buried. Wanted to give him a proper burial, hmmm?” Leara asked, still trying to catch Souka’s narrowed eyes. “Don’t worry, I took good care of it. I am a very big centipede, no? I need a lot of food.”

Souka didn’t even think. Red took his vision and he attacked, desperately needing to inflict pain on this evil creature, make her feel even a fraction of the pain he’d been through. 

She was ready for him, though. She struck faster than he could process with the grief flowing through him in waves, and the best he could do was close his eyes as she wrapped her horrible segmented body around him, pinning his arms to his sides and forcing him to drop his weapons. Her awful legs poked at him as she squeezed him, keeping him from moving as they parted his hair so his eyes were clear of everything else. 

He flinched when a leg touched his face, the end covered in tiny hooks that pulled unpleasantly at his skin. 

“And look at all of you now. That pain made you stronger. Now you’re the hero Souka 2.0! I could make you my warrior! And since you absorbed the Torsha amulet you will last even longer than the last one,” she said with a croon. “Come on, pet. Open your eyes.”

Souka shook as he tried to free himself, the legs tapping and pulling at his face, trying to pry his eyes open. There was only so much strength to be found in eyelids, and the prying little legs were winning. Souka rolled his eyes up as much as he could, following his eyelids, trying to pry his head away from the terrifying grasp Leara had on him. 

“Come on now, child,” Leara said, annoyed. “It won’t hurt. I expect it would be a relief. You won’t have to think about anything. I can take the pain away.”

Souka tried to find his voice, but all that came out was a wheezing gasp, his throat aching at the effort. He writhed again when his fingers came across something wet. It was one of the wounds from before and he dug his fingers in, tearing it open farther. 

Leara screamed, dropping him on instinct and he scooped one of his swords up, turning and slashing across her belly. 

“You filthy little beast!” she shrieked, striking at him. Her blow was ineffective, bouncing off of his impervious skin and he held his ground, watching for her head out of the corner of his eye. She rounded on him, ready to wrap around him again and he ducked to the side, swinging his sword. 

With a clean snick sound, her head fell to the ground and her screaming stopped immediately. Her body skittered around the room still, searching and twitching as it went. After about 20 chopped off limbs, the body collapsed to the floor, unable to support its weight. 

Souka stared at his fallen enemy. He mouthed and signed to himself; to the body on the floor. 

I should have come back sooner. 

@whumpsday

[whump-is-love-whump-is-life]

Oooooo

You guys know ‘fuck, marry, kill’

Now for the whump community I present:

✨whumpee, whumper, caretaker✨

Name three characters and have the other person decide who should be the whumpee, whumper, and caretaker!

Actually I’m turning this into an ask game

[fleur-a-whump]

Overloaded (#2)

late night sparks

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

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

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

previous | masterlist | next

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

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

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

Big man-child, Jasper thought bitterly.

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

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

Sheepish, Jasper drawls, “Heyyy, Miguel…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I was just following orders!” he bursts.

Oh shit.

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

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

And then, it stops.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jasper swallows the whimper at the loss.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“A-and, my training?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And Jasper?”

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

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

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

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

“Attaboy, Jasper. Goodnight.”

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

He'll take what he can get.

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

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

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

@whumpsday

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

@watermelons-dont-grow-on-trees

@crystalrose141

@aloafofbreadwithanxiety

@paingoes

@elizaisnotokay

@quaggasus

[whumper-whimsy]

drugged ex-prince whumpee being used as an example/trophy at the parties that Whumper— who had recently overthrown the king— throws...

[w4nd3r3r123456]

okaykay, so i've read alot of oneshots or stories about Whumpee's who heal instantly and how Whumper uses that to their advantage, but i've never seen anyone rlly expand on it too much.

Whumpee who heals instantly, even if it's around bullets. Whumpee who heals so insanely fast taht everytime they get whipped, Whumper's ripping the leather out of their skin. Whumper who likes to cut Whumpee and then stick their finger into the open wound as it heals around them just out of curiosity. Putting live insect into the cuts. placing larger objects that stop the wound from healing.

Team or friends find Whumpee littered in not only scars, but many many odd lumps. Doing ex-rays and having to remove tens of rusting bullets from them, which is obviously a struggle.

[ladyladywhump]

Whumpy Eating Prompts

(TW: dehumanisation, insect eating, cannibalism, starvation)

Ex-hivemind whumpee eats in time to a specific beat as the rest of their species does. Gradually, over time, they forget more and more of the beat till they're eating to their own one. Cue panic and fear.

Whumpee is allowed out and is ostensibly living an okay life. Only, if they eat anything that they aren't allowed to eat, Whumper will find out and Whumpee will be in trouble. (Perks of owning the entire town I guess)

Non-human Whumpee is forced to eat living creatures. Insects are their usual meal (they try to chew so that there's less moving around as they go down Whumpee's throat but there's so many it's hardly worth it. They. Move. So. Much.) but when they're better behaved, they get to eat something a bit nicer, like a little bunny or a badger.

Whumpee is told that they're allergic to many things that they aren't allergic to so that Whumper can control what they eat and also to scare them with the idea that they could be killed by some well-meaning Caretaker if they left.

Whumpee is made to eat rotten, expired food that makes them ill. They're so much easier to keep when they're ill, none of that running nonsense. And they're so adorable!!

Whumpee is forced to eat out of a dog bowl like they're an animal. The constant dehumanisation and the bowing of their head to do so...

Cannibalism. I think it speaks for itself.

Vampire whumpee force fed human food that they will inevitably throw up.

Poisonings. Whether it's done to a captive whumpee or to a whumpee who thinks they're safe only to be drugged in a restaurant or a friend's house and dragged out to a van.

Whumper isn't aware of Whumpee's allergies (supposedly)

Immortal Whumpee isn't allowed to eat at all. What would be the point? They can just stave and come back to life instead of wasting crucial supplies.

Whumpee is the one being eaten (cannibalism 2)

Whumpee is really hungry on their period. It's a shame that nobody cares when they're in captivity.

Whumpee picks drugs over dinner. They know they should regret it. Maybe they do.

Whumper eats a giant feast while Whumpee is forced to sit by their side without any food. Bonus points if the waiters keep asking if Whumpee wants any food and despite the rumbling in their stomach, they're forced to decline.

[melpomenelamusa]

Melpómene´s whump stories archive

To celebrate the new year, I've decided to share with you some of my favorite whump stories I read this year as a thank you to all the authors who share a little bit of their world with us 💜✨

My plan is to update this list annually and have it function as a sort of personal archive for me, hehe, but you can use it too if you'd like! ����

Melpómene's personal favorites:

🩸Shattered (by @oddsconvert): An anti-human-blood-drinking vampire doctor tries to save the life of a human who for years was the bloodbag of a vampire I really hate.

🔪Total $hit$how (by @befuddled-calico-whump): 5 misfits escaping prison for their criminal records are hired by a mysterious organization to stop another mysterious, but more evil, sci-fi organization (Benji, my son).

🩸Blood and tears (by @whumpisgoodwhumpislife): A little half-vampire is suffering too much and a human decides to take care of him and protect him (They are both my babies).

🪄Forsaken (by @inhurtandincomfort): A young wizard, condemned by a pact he made with a misterious entity in the past, is trained and used as a living weapon by a malevolent institution in a fantasy world. Ft. some loser boy mad scientist.

🎣In troubled water (by @whumpisgoodwhumpislife): A little mer anglerfish suffers. That's it. Also known as "my poor fish baby".

Others amazing stories I've read/I'm reading:

📸Smile for the camera! (by @morning-star-whump ): A boy is kidnapped by a psychopath from the deep web. His parents and his little boyfriend try to find him (Andre Vazquez is the best character).

👑Darius & Mianu (by @geode-crystal): A traumatized prince and his faithful knight/boyfriend want to live happily ever after, but something always happens.

👹The Bahkauv (by @deluxewhump): Three friends decide to buy a magical creature to study; but what seemed like nothing more than a monster or an animal may turn out to be a companion.

⚡Overloaded (by @fleur-a-whump): The son of a supervillain wants to join the good guys, but discovers that "heroes" can be just as cruel as villains.

⚓Voyagers (by @sorrowful-hyacinth): A jerk sea captain captures a jerk mermaid prince and they torture each other. They both deserve it because they're such bastards, but you also feel bad for them and it's complicated.

⛓️A taste of your own medicine (by @oddsconvert): Whumper gets kidnapped and torture along with his ex-whumpee by an even evil whumper. Only one person is having fun here.

👨‍👦With me (by @greatgigintheskiess): A bitter guy living in the woods accidentally rescues a little boy who escaped from an evil laboratory. Parental caretaker my beloved.

🪐Humanity Collector (by @rabbit-flaying): A cosmic creature who likes to collect human things decides to add a real human to its collection (A cosmic horror one-shot).

🧵Writemas 2024 (by @tildeathiwillwrite): A woman suffers the mysterious death (or murder?) of her husband. This is the kind of story I would love to read in a printed book and recommend to my entire family.

🦌Whumpcember 2024 (by @kabie-whump): An evil wizard has turned Santa's reindeer into humans, who now have to live with their new bodies. A series of shorts with very interesting and cute characters that I definitely need to keep reading if I could.

🪢My favorite stories by @writinglittlepains: Speedster, Aleksander's Plight and Sweet Fins are my favorites!

⚖️Guilt & Revenge (by @what-if-i-just-did): A traumatized ex-bully is kidnapped by the kids he used to bully as a kid because he couldn't afford therapy and is brutally tortured by those who actually happened to be the ones who needed therapy.

🫂We Are TroubleD (by @whumpty-dumpty-doo): Two best friends are kidnapped by a guy who originally planned to capture one of them for ransom, but now is just torturing them for fun.

⛈️Ventis and friends (by @kabie-whump): A half draconic half air elemental and his varied adventures in a fantasy world *kindly slaps Ventis* This bad boy can fit so much trauma in him.

🛡️Drusus & Keme (by @whumperofworlds): Don´t know why it took me so long to add the whumpable husbands to the list. There´s whump! And fluffy married love! And used as bait!

🪦Curse of Withering (by @sir-fenris): A magical boy with the power to kill everything he touches is imprisoned and used as a living military weapon.

🎀Pretty whumpee (by @string-of-broken-hearts): Pretty whumpe and carewhumper. I really need to know the context, I'm so intrigued.

👿Karma's B*tch (by @whumpthusiast): A pathetic guy kidnaps the wrong woman and now it backfired.

[thewhumpcaretaker]

🖤 Protective Caretaker Trying to Hold Back 🖤

Maybe Caretaker doesn’t know whumpee that well, or they have a formal working relationship with strict standards. Maybe whumpee is an ex pr an enemy or really dislikes them for some reason. But for one reason or another, Caretaker is the last person whumpee would turn to for help.

Yet Caretaker can SEE that something’s wrong, and it’s driving them insane with worry. They can’t eat. They can’t sleep. They’re pacing around in protective fury. But they have to play it cool.

Caretaker trying to keep a straight face while talking to whumpee and not show pity. The whole time, their fists are clenched in sympathetic rage, nails biting into their palms.

Does whumpee notice? Maybe they react with annoyance at Caretaker’s concern, confirming that it’s not their place. Or maybe they seem to want to connect, but stop themselves with a muttered, “Forget it, I shouldn’t be talking to you about this.”

Caretaker talking to whumpee’s friends/teammates and trying desperately not to ask how they’re doing.

Caretaker noticing a bruise or a strange, dead look in whumpee’s eyes, or even just whumpee being absent. They can’t think about anything else for the rest of the day.

In the mirror: “It’s none of my business, it’s none of my business, it’s none of my business…”

Caretaker encountering Whumper and trying not to attack on sight.

After a tense conversation with Whumper and/or whumpee in which they all pretend nothing is wrong, Caretaker goes on the other room and starting vomiting, crying, screaming into a pillow, etc.

“Oh yeah, didn’t you hear?” And they tell Caretaker something terrible that happened to whumpee. “I’m sure they’re fine though. Wait, why are you shaking?”

The day after Caretaker learns what happened in full, their room is trashed. They’ve torn apart everything they could get their hands on in an effort to quell the vengeful, protective anger. But it wasn’t enough. The weapons are gone, and Caretaker is nowhere to be found.