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#villain whump
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The whumpee was only ever known as the villain’s child, someone who could cause as much as destruction as their parent- but the whumpee wouldn’t ever do that. The heroes don’t believe the whumpee will be different, specially not the whumper, who decides to take the whumpee out of the equation before they can cause any trouble, and since nobody particularly liked the whumpee, they turn a blind eye at the torture the whumpee is forced to endure.
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Imagine a spoiled royal, heir to the throne, part of a powerful bloodline that gives them "divine right to rule". They're raised to be cruel, and told their heritage puts them above everyone else.
And then one day, it's revealed before the entire court that it's all a lie. The royal was switched at birth with the child of a servant. The real heir has been serving in the palace all this time, unaware of their birthright. Maybe they're even someone the faux-royal had been particularly cruel to all their lives.
The ruling family is quick to push out the false heir---blood is more important to them than any illusion of family---and welcome the servant with open arms.
Maybe the false heir is banished from the kingdom they were raised to rule. Maybe they're imprisoned so the truth can never come out. Maybe they're made a servant, now at the beck and call of someone they'd thought beneath them.
Does the true heir take pity on them, or do they seek vengeance from years of abuse? Does the royal family have any regrets, or have they always been cold, only concerned with holding power? What do the servants and commoners do, now that the arrogant "heir" has lost all power and protection?
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whump-in-the-closet · 8 months
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Villain curled up in the alley, next to a dumpster. A half-opened bag of trash spilled out onto the ground. They toed aside a plastic bottle, watching it roll into the middle of the alley.
They watched a boot stop it from rolling any farther.
Villain drew back, instinctively covering their head with torn hands—still unhealed, still throbbing.
The wearer of the boots came closer, kicking aside the trash to grab Villain’s wrist.
“Please, please, you can’t—not again” Villain slipped back into begging as if it were a reflex. As if they had never been gone. As if the past two days of freedom had been nothing.
Supervillain hauled Villain to their feet. “Don’t worry. You’ve simply forgotten your training.” They tightened chains around Villain’s wrists and slapped their shoulder in an almost friendly way. “I’ll remind you.”
Almost friendly. Mostly terrifying.
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epiclamer · 6 days
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This is the post you all have voted for… (i settled for smutty hurt x comfort since you guys were so close)
@save-the-villainous-cat happy two year anniversary baby <3
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It wasn’t the end of the world, Villain had been injured in battle countless times before and it was never a problem. But, god, there was so much blood.
They weren’t a very optimistic person by nature, but things had never looked worse for them than at this precise moment. Stumbling blindly through friendly, neighbourhood complexes and past steadily blurring townhouses. Villain could practically feel their demise impending.
“Hey there, stranger~” The criminal gulped, eyes shooting around like a cornered animal looking for an escape. “You’re in pretty rough shape to be standing on two feet…”
Their eyes locked in on a figure—somewhere at the back of their mind they were flooded with a sensation of ease, though they couldn’t quite pinpoint why. They continued to stumble forwards and practically into the stranger’s arms anyways, for whatever reason it felt right.
“Easy— Easy there, Villain… just relax I’ve got you, I’ll take good care of you, huh?”
Warmth spread through the criminal’s mind at the sound of the other’s voice, then down into their muscles before seeping deep to their bones. They blinked and when they opened their eyes again they were laying in a tub, their feet resting at the tap where hot water poured down and into the bath.
For a moment they panicked, but a hand found its way to their shoulder and grounded them back to the present. They knew that hand, they knew that touch.
Hero.
“I’ve got you, baby~” They teased, grinning from ear to ear as they fiddled with the temperature to the water with their free hand.
It all came rushing back to the villain; the fight they had picked with their superior—on purpose—and whatever hope they had left dragging their feet to the hero’s house in a desperate attempt for attention survival.
Hero’s touch was warm where it laid by their collarbone, heating the skin to a feverish degree as it began stitching the villain back together. See, Hero’s powers only worked through touch (something the villain had learned a very long time ago purely on accident), but as much as their touch held only kindness, it did not extend to their healing abilities.
Because, god, did it ever hurt. Painful in some sick and horribly pleasurable way that Villain couldn’t seem to stop craving.
Their collarbone snapped back into place, the bone mending itself back together and their eyes flew open along with the sob that was wrenched from their throat. They flailed, partially to escape the hero’s torturous touch, partially to fall further into their grasp.
“Hey, hey, it’s okay… deep breaths remember?” The crime-stopper’s hand moved down their chest, giving their upper half the gift of a breath as they pained the rest of them.
The villain’s relief was only present for a fleeting moment, as they felt the hero’s fingertips trace the edges of the gash to their chest. Already the ripped skin pulled taught and their torn muscles seized up, under command of the other’s touch.
Villain knew what was coming.
They squirmed, the bath water submerging their legs in its warm embrace, Hero’s hand teasing at their wound, they couldn’t help but try and pull away. “Please—”
The hero shushed them, bringing their free hand to cup the villain’s chin. “I’ll be quick, I promise.” They pressed their hand flat against the gaping hole that should have been the villain’s abdomen, jolting them.
Villain screamed, it was dry and rugged, they recoiled from their nemesis but the only other thing there to hold them was the bath water. “Please, H-Hero, please—” Three more seconds and the criminal was sure to pass out.
Then it stopped. Before the villain could beg again, before they could lose consciousness, the pain stopped.
Cautiously, the villain’s eyes fluttered open, their enemy smiled sweetly back, fingertips now tracing the completely untouched abdomen of the villain’s. They looked normal, they looked okay, even after everything the hero had managed to restore them to their previous glory.
“You okay, gorgeous?”
Villain’s eyes met the hero’s once more, they were gentle yet somewhat mischievous. They nodded, brain completely fogged, maybe from the pain, most likely from the hero’s distracting gaze.
The area still pulsed with the ghost of a previous slash, but there was nothing, just the heat from the hero’s hands. It left a sweet aftertaste on their exhausted mind.
“Think you can handle another round tonight?” They waggled their eyebrows in emphasis, removing one hand to shut off the water to the bath as it began to cover the villain’s stomach.
Villain glared, but only for a moment, some of their usual snideness returning to their demeanour. “Can y-you be a little nicer?”
Hero hummed, eyes glued to their own hands as they made their way down to the inside of the criminal’s thighs, their hands beginning to resume their previous healing glow even under the water. “Really? I thought you liked it rough?”
The villain’s cheeks turned red, but they didn’t have time to retort before the hero placed their hands back against their skin and shut them up with a moan.
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gingerly-writing · 8 months
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Prompt #3477
"You can't keep me as a pet," the villain spat.
Their captor raised an eyebrow. "You're smart enough to know that I absolutely can. Whenever I like, for as long as I like."
"Someone will realise. Someone will come for me."
They sighed. "You're smart enough to know that's not true, either."
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whumppromptoftheday · 26 days
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Hero runs out of the room, tripping over their feet, "I'll come back with help, I promise."
Villain watches them leave, ropes digging into their wrists. "Hurry."
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whump-a-la-mode · 1 year
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You’ve Heard of Scientist Whumpers, Now Get Ready for Scientist Whumpees!
Whumpee chained to their lab desk, working as the chain clinks with their movements
Whumpee being forced to keep up with ridiculous schedules, Whumper demanding impossible results in impossibly little time
Whumpee being monitored and abused by the guards in their own lab
Whumpee being forced to experiment on their friends
Whumpee sitting alone at night, after they’ve been locked in their cell, stitching up their own wounds
Whumpee working themself to exhaustion until they collapse in their lab, on their feet
Whumpee being held captive in their own lab, now taken over by Whumper
Whumpee being forced to go to conferences, pretending everything is okay, with Whumper by their side the whole time
Maybe Whumpee was once a mad scientist, a danger. Now, they’ve been captured, and the heroes intend on making them work. But, what if the heroes aren’t so nice after all?
Whumpee being beaten and reminded what a monster they are, and that this is the only way they can ever be worth anything to the world
Whumpee being forced to watch as their work is destroyed and they have to start over
Whumpee being too traumatized to ever return to their profession, trembling at the very sight of a beaker
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letters-unsending · 3 months
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No. 50
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Hero and Villain, fake relationship
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“How are you feeling, dear?”
“My ears keep ringing,” Hero sighed, tucking his icepack further into his neck, “and don’t call me dear. There’s not a soul who needs to hear that anymore. It’s just us.”
“Oh, it’s just us, isn’t it?” Villain smiled and leaned back their head, as if in bliss. The movement exposed a dark cleft of red. A cut ran like spilled wine down from their lips and to the gully of their clavicle, and it gleamed with a satin sheen, obscenely fresh. Hero averted his eyes.
“Yes, just us,” Hero agreed, indulging in Villain’s cryptic mood, “unless we’ve got ourselves a visitor you’re not telling me about.”
“I would tell you. I’ll always tell you,” Villain turned their head back down, leveling Hero with a stare, “this is our home after all.”
Hero stared back and wondered if his ears were ringing Villain’s words into nonsense. Beneath his gaze, Villain sprawled, languid and liquid as a cat, in their armchair.
They’d bought the chair–a chaise so high-backed it looked like it’d grown wings–the first week of their contract and displaced the original furniture that had come with the pre-furnished house. Quickly thereafter, they’d taken to redecorating the rest of their temporary rooms with utmost fervor. Decor spilled out, the chair its center point: fur rugs, velvet throws, glass-shaded lamps.
“You can keep the house,” Hero blurted, “it's not ours anymore. Contract’s over.”
“My, how generous,” Villain smiled wider, snake-like, and Hero feared they would bleed from the strain, “would you really leave this all to me?”
“Sure, you seem comfortable here,” Hero shrugged, “you put a lot of time into the place. I don’t want to get in the way.”
“You’ve decorated over the past year as well. Don’t give me all the credit, darling.” Villain waved their hand, nails flashing in the light. Following their fingers, Hero recognized his coat tossed over the back of Villain’s chair. Pens and papers, which he’d sworn to clean up, lay sprawled over the oil-dark coffee table.
“I only left a mess. That’s hardly decor.”
“It could never be a mess.” Villain reached a hand back and rested their palm over Hero’s coat. “I enjoy your additions. They make the place feel lived in.”
“Lived in,” Hero echoed, “guess it helped with our cover. Probably made this whole sham marriage look real enough.”
Villain’s face turned flat. The curl of their smile snapped like elastic, pinching into a terse line, and a bead of blood rounded their chin as they spoke.
“Why are you still wearing the ring?”
Hero let go of the icepack and it tumbled into a heap in his lap. “If it bothers you, I’ll just go on and take it off.”
“It does not.” Villain drawled, sweeping out their hand. “I am far from bothered.”
Their ring and its exquisite gem fluoresced upon their finger, a beacon casting its gleam over the mountain of their knuckles.
“It just, you know, feels wrong to take it off after so long.” Hero muttered, squeezing at his wrist. “I even have tanline from it.”
Villain smiled again, soft, but their skin still broke. Blood slipped along the underside of their jaw and Hero swallowed; he could almost feel it roll down his own throat.
“You shouldn’t have taken the bandage off.”
Hero glanced once more at his ring, before pushing himself off his chair. Pain shot like a bolt through his wrist. Staggering, he snagged a tissue from a box on the coffee table and then shuffled toward Villain, who met his approach with gleam in their eye.
“I don’t like being restricted.” Villain explained as Hero propped his hip into the chair arm and leaned over. “I couldn’t speak or move my head with that infernal contraption on.”
“Must’ve been hard for you to be so quiet.” Hero grabbed Villain’s chin and tilted their head back. “You had a long time for reflection in that hospital, didn’t you? Might be why you’re being so odd.”
“I didn’t need time to reflect,” Villain murmured, suddenly quiet, “I have considered this for a long time.”
“And what have you considered?” Hero set the tissue upon Villain’s skin, feigning focus, avoiding Villain’s gaze crawling shamelessly over his face.
“You.”
“Me?” Hero dabbed their throat, careful of the scab. He moved his steadying hand to the side of Villain’s neck.
“The both of us, [Hero].” Villain grabbed Hero’s wrist, draping their fingers and the gleaming ring over his arm, trapping Hero’s touch to his throat. Their carotid pulse drummed against his fingertips. “You see, my dear, I want to keep living in this house. I want to keep my ring. You must understand what I mean when I say this.”
“[Villain], you couldn’t possibly–”
“Will you stay?”
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whumpwillow · 10 months
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Okay but think of a villain, madly in love with his hero. So much so that he was changing his evil ways and becoming a better person and feeling genuine joy after so many years of pain and loneliness. He was reluctant at first but now the hero’s arms are the only place he feels completely safe in.
But to the hero it was only a plan to have him under control. And when they get what they want they just give him up to the authorities, betrayed, alone, possibly badly mistreated in prison. And he just stares, taking the kicks and punches without saying a word. Because of course that was bound to happen, he's a horrible criminal
Bonus if eventually hero regrets it and misses him and goes to save him but he already seems so broken
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bestie that’s literally so mean
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the-broken-pen · 4 months
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“We absolutely should not be doing this,” the hero whispered, but there wasn’t any heat to it. The other end of the line rustled as the villain laughed.
“There are a lot of things we shouldn’t be doing. Namely, I shouldn’t commit felonies, you shouldn’t talk to a felon…” their friend trailed off.
This time, the hero was the one who laughed. Outside, a bird began to chirp with the sunrise, and the villain sighed.
“Time distance.”
“Time distance,” the hero agreed, and by god if the miles weren’t a wound in itself.
“You should sleep,” the villain murmured. The hero hummed.
“Probably, yeah.”
Neither of them hung up.
“If I promise to call tomorrow, will you go to bed, please? For me?”
The hero sniffed, eyes heavy as the sun peeked through their blinds.
“Promise?”
“Pinkie.”
The hero slumped backwards. “I won’t hang up though.”
The villain laughed, softly, with an affection the hero didn’t want to think about.
“I’ll do the heavy lifting, once again,” but the hero knew they smiled as they said. The line clicked off.
—————————
“Hey, Sunshine. Committing nefarious acts of kindness and good deeds, I take it?”
“Hey,” the hero was breathless, hand pressed against their side. It came back bloody.
Any humor dropped from the villain’s voice in an instant.
“You’re hurt.”
The hero managed a pathetic laugh, flinching.
“Just a little.”
“It doesn’t sound like a little.”
The hero eyed their wound, swallowing.
“Absolutely just a little.”
“It’s a good thing you’re the kid of a hero, because love, you absolutely suck at lying.”
The hero tried to pretend something didn’t warm in their stomach at the endearment.
“I have…bandages. And antiseptic. And some good old natural dirt to rub into it if all else fails.”
The villain sighed on the other end of the line, and the hero knew they were rubbing their brow. For some reason, despite the pain, it made the hero grin.
“I’m fine,” they promised, and when the villain stayed silent, they said it again. “I’m fine.”
“If you die I’ll be mad at you.”
“Fairly certain that is the wrong sentiment for a villain to have towards a hero—“
“Has the bleeding stopped?”
The hero slapped some tape around the edge of the gauze, blood still dried around the edges.
“Yes.”
The relief was palpable.
“Good. Go to bed.”
“You’ll call again?”
“Promise.”
The hero smiled.
“Pinkie.”
The villain hung up.
—————————
“You wouldn’t happen to have a flamethrower I could borrow, do you?”
The hero blinked, holding the phone away from their face for a moment.
“I’m sorry?”
“Oh, don’t be, I just need one,” the villain snorted, and a loud crash sounded in the background.
“What on earth are you doing?” Concern rolled in the hero’s gut. The villain laughed.
“You’re going to want plausible deniability sunshine.”
“Right,” they paused. “But why a flamethrower?”
“It has flames, it throws them, what else could I ask for in an object?”
“I can throw flames.” Even though the villain couldn’t see it, the hero let a spark flicker on their finger tips.
“And again,” the villain’s voice lowered. “What more could I ask for?”
The hero didn’t have a response to that, but the villain somehow, like they always did, knew that.
“Any bruises I should know about?”
“And what would you do about them? You live on the other side of the country,” the hero teased.
“I can steal a fighter jet in less than half an hour.”
The hero blinked at the seriousness in the villain’s tone. They laughed, nervously.
“Please don’t do that.”
The villain sighed. “You ruin my fun.”
“I haven’t arrested you, so I think that should get me brownie points.”
“You live on the other side of the country,” the villain parroted.
“I could get there faster than a fighter jet,” the hero said. The villain snorted again.
“Will you—“
“Call again? Pinkie.”
The hero smiled. “Promise.”
The villain hung up.
—————————
The hero picked up the phone on the third ring, smiling.
“Hey trouble maker, what’s—”
All they got in response was a pained wheeze.
“Villain,” the hero said, gut plummeting. “Are you okay?”
“Fine,” the villain bit out, breath short. “I’m okay.”
“You don’t sound okay.”
The villain gave something that was either a laugh or a sob.
“Mhm.”
“What’s going on,” their voice broke, and the villain fell silent.
“It’s going to be okay,” they murmured. And the hero knew.
Innately, in a painful, wretched way, they knew.
“My dad is there.”
Their dad, the superhero. Their dad, who had forbidden them from ever speaking.
Their dad, who wanted the villain, their villain, dead.
The villain made a quiet noise of ascent.
“I’m coming—”
“You won’t make it.”
The hero stilled.
“How bad is it?” Their hands were shaking. They couldn’t find their suit, why couldn’t they find their suit—
“Too fast for a fighter jet,” the villain tried, voice too light and wet with tears.
The hero slammed a drawer closer, throwing open the door to the basement, searching for something, anything.
“I can be faster,” they grit out, breathless. Their chest hurt.
“Not that fast.”
“Please,” the hero sobbed, and on the other end of the line, the villain did too.
“Don’t do this to me.”
“I don’t want to,” the villain swore. They coughed, and it was a deathly thing.
Something slammed in the background on the end of the line, and the hero’s fingers clenched around the phone.
“What was that?”
The villain let out a pained whine, phone crackling as they shifted away, before their voice came over the speaker again.
“I’ll call again tomorrow.”
The hero’s face was wet.
“Promise?”
The villain let out a small sob, but they still sounded like they were smiling, soft with affection.
“Pinkie.”
The hero didn’t mean to say what came next.
“I love you.”
The villain didn’t even pause, breath hitching. “I love you too.”
The line crackled.
“Sunshine, I need you to do something for me now,” the villain rasped, voice choked with pain and tears and love and fear. “I need you to hang up.”
The hero forgot how to breathe.
“No—”
“Please,” the villain took a sharp breath through their nose, and it sounded painful. “Just this once. I can’t do it this time.”
“Villain,” the hero began, but the villain cut them off as something crashed in the background once more.
It sounded like a building falling.
It sounded like the hero breaking, too.
“Sunshine,” the villain pleaded. “Just once. I’ll-I’ll call you back. I swear.”
They could both taste the lie.
The hero sniffed.
The villain sobbed.
And for the first time, the hero hung up.
The villain never called them back.
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pigeonwhumps · 20 days
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Superhero's pet
WoW's birthday event: day 9: aftermath of rescue | sickness | "you're burning up"
Taglist: @painful-pooch @i-eat-worlds @a-funeral-romance @rainydaywhump
Caretaker's rescued Villain from Superhero from years in his 'care'. But that doesn't mean things are easy, especially when he's still her boss.
The blame for this goes entirely to @echo-goes-mmm.
1.9k
CWs: Villain whump, pet whump, severe self-dehumanisation, past dehumanisation, past animalisation, asking for punishment, past torture
Caretaker prepares for work quickly and silently nowadays. She needs the extra time, because she has someone else to look after now.
Villain. Superhero's former plaything. The test case in the new villain rehabilitation programme.
Or, as they call themself – pet.
They wanted to be called dog. They were called dog. But pet somehow seems like a slight improvement. They use that now, for themself.
They have the same routine every day Caretaker works, and it seems to help. She wakes them up once she's completely ready to leave. She'd gladly leave them asleep, but the one time she tried, they panicked and hurt themself. She hasn't tried since.
She shakes them gently awake. They're asleep on a human-sized pet bed in her room, snuggled under a large blanket until only the tip of their satin bonnet is visible.
They wouldn't take the bed in the spare room, insisting that "pets don't deserve beds," and she wasn't letting them sleep on the carpet. This was the compromise, when she realised even a room to themself was too much.
They wake and push themself immediately to their hands and knees, reaching out to kiss Caretaker's trainers. She takes a step back.
"Hey, buddy. You don't need to do that, remember?"
Villain trembles, forehead dropping to meet the hard carpet. "Your pet is sorry, Mistress. Please punish it."
"Not happening. Come on, get dressed and then it's time for breakfast."
Caretaker turns her back as quickly as possible as Villain starts stripping without a care who's there. She's not sure she wants to know what Superhero did to make them like this.
They won't take off their collar, insisting that it'll make them a "bad dog", but there's no bell any longer and she's working on the tag.
"Your pet is dressed, Mistress."
"Good pet." She hates the term, but they practically glow when she calls them it so maybe it's worth it? "Follow me."
Villain crawls behind Caretaker, settling into a knelt position when they reach the kitchen. She stifles a sigh. They've come on since she brought them home, but there's still a long way to go. The number one priority of which is to get them to eat like a person.
"What would you like to eat this morning, Villain? Crumpets or toast with jam?" They were their two favourites before they vanished, she knows. And they're edible with fingers, which... Caretaker doesn't ever want to watch them eat like an animal again.
"Whatever Mistress desires."
"Well I would desire you to make a decision. It's okay, I won't punish you for it."
Villain pales, visibly trembling again. "May this pet... may it have crumpets, please, Mistress? It understand if it requires a reminder of its position instead, but please show mercy on your pet for following your instructions." Then they cringe away, repeating under their breath in a monotone, "Good dogs don't ask for mercy. Good dogs take what they're given. Good dogs need regular reminders."
"Shh, buddy. It's okay, I'm not going to hurt you."
Villain's breath hitches. "Please remind this pet of its place, Mistress. It needs regular reminders, This pet is a bad, bad dog and it needs to learn its place."
Caretaker winces. Why does 'dog' sound so much worse than 'pet'?
"You're not a bad pet. You're very good already. Is that where your scars are from?"
"Some, Mistress. This pet requires maintenance."
Caretaker nods, glad she's already eaten. She sets the dog bowl in front of them. "Eat your breakfast."
Villain obediently lifts a crumpet (and god, at least they're using their hands now) and hunches over it, eating like they'll never be fed again.
For all Caretaker knows, that could be a plausible possibility in their mind. Did Superhero threaten that? Villain is still underfed.
She watches as they polish off their meal. As she has before, she wonders if she's using the right pronouns anymore. Sure, it/its are conditioned into Villain, but that doesn't mean she shouldn't use them. Does it?
"I'm going to work today, Villain. While I'm gone, I'd like you to clean the dishes and look after your goldfish. You can go out on the balcony if you like, but no further outside. I'm sorry, we can't risk it yet. Is that clear?"
"Yes, Mistress."
"Good pet."
Caretaker bends down and scratches behind their ear, which they lean into eagerly. "Stay safe."
Then she leaves, unable to think of anything else to say.
_
Superhero has asked to see her.
Superhero has asked to see her.
Caretaker would be nervous normally, because now she's finished her training he only ever calls her in when she's failed, but now... what if he's found out about Villain? As a technopath it was simplicity itself hacking into the system to investigate the rehabilitation centre, but what if she left some trace of herself behind? Online, at the centre itself, in her behaviour over the past few weeks... she could've done anything.
As she walks through the building, she passes many people, some of whom smile or call out greetings. She wonders just how many know what Superhero's been doing.
She hadn't. Villain had been missing for two years and god, she was so naïve. Believing Superhero's reassurances (when she dared to ask) that they were being well taken care of, and he'd visited himself, the conditions were completely up to scratch. They should be no worry of Caretaker's now. His terrible lies that make her blood boil.
She knocks on his office door and waits for a response before entering.
"You wanted to see me, sir?"
His eyes are ice cold behind his smile. "Yes. I wanted to ask how you're doing."
"Sir?"
"After Villain's escape. I notice your success rate is down recently."
"Oh." She twists her fingers behind her back. Of course she has, she's not arresting anyone else to be hauled off and tortured into Villain's state or worse. "I'm sorry, sir, I've just been worried about Villain." Not a lie. "I'll do better."
"Mm." He steeples his hands together under his chin, watching her steadily with the gaze of the agency's golden boy, and it's in moments like these that she's reminded of how brutal his training was. How unforgiving. "Any idea where he could be?"
Her mind flashes back to a morning during Villain's first week with her, when they'd licked spilt jam off the kitchen floor because "bad dogs don't waste food".
"No, sir."
"Pity. As their nemesis, I expect you to do better."
"I expect you to do better, Caretaker. We'll try again in an hour."
Caretaker shivers. At least she no longer has to be trained by Superhero.
Why did she ever like and trust him?
"Sorry, sir."
"Let me know if you find anything. Dismissed." He flicks a hand towards the door and she exits obediently. You don't argue with Superhero, even if you're not trying to keep a low profile.
Às soon as she's far enough away, she leans against a wall and closes her eyes, breathing hard. She is so, so glad she doesn't regularly carry a knife around with her. Stabbing Superhero 47 times in the chest might be a slight giveaway that she no longer likes him.
_
Caretaker returns home to the smell of chemicals and Villain kneeling on the freshly-cleaned carpet, behind an array of implements. Lighter, matches, fire poker, broom, knife, bleach, rope, salt...
"Villain, what..."
"You have been stressed, Mistress, and this pet is overdue its maintenance. This pet thought that this might help, as it did Master." Then they say somewhat proudly, "This pet used its initiative, as you requested. Has it pleased you, Mistress?"
The pieces finally click and Caretaker stumbles back, hand flying to her mouth, horrified. Villain thought... Caretaker would want to torture them because she was stressed? More than that, they fetched all these torture implements and brought them together in an effort to please her, knowing how they would be used?
"I... put those away, Villain, please. We won't be needing those tonight. And once you're finished go and wait in the living room. I think we need to talk again."
"Yes, Mistress." They pick up the first implement (a hammer) and crawl awkwardly towards the cupboard where the DIY stuff is kept. Caretaker thinks about reminding them they can walk, but they're shaking so much already. It probably wouldn't do any good.
She changes into something more comfortable before turning the kettle on, her own hands shaking. God. It feels like every day she discovers some new, despicable thing Superhero has done. Forget the knives – she could kill him with her bare hands.
She used to just be able to relax after work. Those were the days. But– she can't very well just leave Villain. They're her responsibility, and she's their only option.
Sighing, she carefully carries two cups of chamomile tea into the living room and sets them down on the coffee table. Villain is knelt in what must be the most uncomfortable corner of the room – difficult to find, as the place is tidier than she's ever seen it.
"Will you come and join me on the sofa, please, Villain? Or at least beside the sofa, if it makes you feel more comfortable."
She's sure they'll do that, they always do, and she arranges soft cushions on the hard carpet to make it more comfortable, since the rug doesn't reach far enough. At least she's always had far too many cushions.
She lives in hope that one day they'll feel comfortable enough to start using furniture again.
"So, first things first. Thank you for cleaning the house so thoroughly. It's never been so sparkling. You didn't have to, but I'm very grateful you did. And I'm proud of you for using your initiative, please keep doing so. However, stop bringing me torture implements. That's an order. I'm not going to punish you, Villain, and nobody deserves being hurt by any of that. Understand?"
"Yes, Mistress. This pet apologises for not letting you choose the method of punishment completely. It will do better in future."
"No, that's not what I–" She cuts off, pinching her brow. She's not going to get them to understand, at least not yet. "Thank you, buddy. Now, why don't we both relax? I'll find us something we'll both like."
"Yes, Mistress."
They settle for an episode of Great British Bake Off in the end. Not that Villain ever comments either way, but they did when they still fought each other and if Villain lied to her about their preferences then that's their own fault.
Villain rests their head on her lap and watches the screen sideways, eyes half-closed. Caretaker rubs small circles into their shoulders.
She feels so incredibly guilty for arresting them in the first place. She's responsible for this, albeit indirectly. The Villain she knew would never have forgiven her.
Speaking of which...
"Why are you never angry with me, Villain? I'm the reason you were tortured for two years."
Villain glances up from under their lashes for just a second.
"Good dogs don't bark."
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antagonistic characters who vanish only to reappear months later, a shadow of their former selves and carrying physical and emotional scars my beloved
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whump-in-the-closet · 9 months
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Villain stumbled forward. “No—oh god, no.” Their blood turned to ice, horror spearing through them. Anything but this.
Hero dragged Villain’s sidekick behind them, a finger hooked through the protégé’s metal collar— a suppressor for their abilities, but tightened to the point of bruising. Hero kicked Villain’s sidekick into the ground, nodding to Villain. “Found them a few weeks ago. Lost and drunk and hating the world.”
Villain took a shaking step forward, eyes on the pile of trembling clothes that was Sidekick.
“A pity that someone so young is already trying to destroy the world.”
“Sidekick?” Villain whispered.
No answer.
Then. “What did you do to them?” It came out as a snarl.
Hero grabbed Sidekick’s jaw, forcing them to look up. They turned their face towards Villain, allowing Villain a good look at the bruises. At the black eye. At the open gash that ran across their forehead. At the sharp cut that sliced from lip to chin. Smaller knife-cuts down their throat.
Sidekick sobbed, closing their eyes. They mouthed, I’m sorry. Again and again. I’m sorry i’m sorry i’m sorry—
Hero smiled. “I re-educated them.”
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seasonscourt · 16 days
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#1
A whirlwind of rage, Hero threw the door open, stomping forward to slam their hands down on the desk in Superhero’s office.
“Why do you have to tear Villain down like that, Superhero?”
Superhero looked up calmly from the papers they’d been reading and looked Hero in the eye
“Simple. They don’t have the temperament for this job—”
“What?”
“—they’re not like you, Hero, not like us.” Superhero continued calmly, breezing over Hero’s interruption.
Hero just stared incredulously at Superhero for a moment before launching heatedly into a defense of their friend. “They’re the best trainee in the academy, more than that they’re the best person I know! Villain deserves more than anyone to graduate from the academy and go pro as a hero”
“Exactly. They’re too good, they won’t be able to to make the real decisions, seize the right opportunities. They’re simply not selfish enough. Not when it comes down to it, not like you” Superhero jerked the pen in their hand at Hero as they finished. Hero reached out in retaliation snapping it out of their hands and into the desk.
“I’m not like that.”
Superhero raised a doubtful eyebrow at Hero.
“You sure about that? Why don’t we test that little Hero?”
Hero took a step back.
“What do you mean?”
Superhero stood up and gestured at the door.
“I mean you’re formally dismissed, send Villain in”
.
Villain re-entered the training room dead quiet, eyes gazing into nothing. Hero took a step towards them concerned and slightly apprehensive.
“Villain, what happened?”
Villain slowly turned to look at them, and the moment Hero caught their gaze they burst into tears.
“Villain!”
Hero ran forward, gathering Villain in their arms as their legs buckled slowly pulling the both of them down to sit on the floor
Hero’s voice was soft as they asked Villain again what happened, but Villain could only shake their head mutely before crawling into Hero’s lap and clutch desperately at them as they sobbed into their shoulder.
Hero hugged them back letting them stay together like that for a what seemed like hours
“Hero?” Villains finally voiced with their head still buried in Hero’s neck.
“Mm?”
A whimper, “Hero, please.”
“Shhh, just calm down. You’re okay, just breath , it’s okay” Hero rubbed soothing circles on the sobbing Villains back as Villain sobbed into their shoulder.
Hero glanced up at the smirking Superhero watching them both through the door, and felt a flash of irritation run through them.
They clutched their arms a little harder around Villain’s waist. Having Villain, smart, closed-off kind, lonely Villain, crying and vulnerable and in their lap and clinging to them felt like utter perfection. Damn it. Superhero had been right, they weren’t a good enough person to give this feeling up. Not when this felt like everything Hero had ever wanted.
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blackrosesandwhump · 7 months
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How to Whump Your Hero (or Villain)!
For those times when you have the perfect whumpable hero or villain and don't know what to do with them. Use this generator to get ideas!
You have your character. What do you use to whump them?
Axe
Bandages
Barbed wire
Blindfold
Branding iron
Cage
Chains
Club
Coffin
Collar
Dagger
Drugs
Duct tape
Fishing line
Gag
Garrote
Gibbet
Handcuffs
Hatchet
Knife
Manacles
Operating Table
Oxygen mask
Pistol
Pitchfork
Plastic
Poison
Rapier
Rope
Scalpel
Scythe
Spear
Straightjacket
Stitches
Sword
Syringe
Taser
Whip
Using this random number generator, for example I get #5 Branding iron. Time for some painful branding for my poor villain!
Happy writing!
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the-three-whumpeteers · 7 months
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The whumpee expected their interrogation to be plain and easy to handle- after all, none of the heroes seemed to have a single cruel bone in their body, but they were wrong. The heroes turn to torture almost immediately, and the whumpee sees first hand just how sadistic and merciless the protectors of the city really were.
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