Whumperee haven

mia || she/they ✨ask and requests open✨

[mannerofwhump]

‼️Masterlist‼️

Intro post -> includes favourite tropes, (kind of) squicks, and favourite whump blogs!

My series:

Till Betrayal Do Us Part -> whumper turned whumpee, pet whump

Whumptober:

2022

[yougivemewhumperflies]

I think I need like 30 chapters of royal whumper turned whumpee. A nice, delicious slow burn of whumper making worse and worse choices, followed by the tables completely flipping on them, then a nice, delicious slow burn of revenge as they are the whumpee. I want the revenge going too far, whumper-turned-whumpee getting double, triple the punishments they dolled out.

I want all the arrogance and pride to crumple into a sad little ball.

[bloodiedbriars]

Whumpee turned Whumper

“Yeah, you remember this one? You always liked how I screamed when you used it on me. Let's see how you sound.”

“Funny how quiet you are now that you're the one in chains.”

“Not so chatty now, are you?”

“I could just escape, and I will. But first, I want you to know what it feels like.”

“How did you always put it? Oh, right. ‘Beg better.’ Take your own advice before I take your finger off.”

“You always took your time cutting into me. I think I might just go to town with a steel pipe. I'm not as patient as you were.”

“I could stop. But… you never had mercy either, did you?”

“What's wrong? Can't take a taste of your own medicine?”

“Remember when you left me to starve? Well, as my final trick I am going to walk out of that door and not come back. Have fun wasting away.”

“You should have fucking killed me when you had the chance. Because I am going to make this hurt.”

(AI-less Whumptober, Day 22: Changed Dynamic)

[sacredwrath]

Arc 2b Part 1. Clean up

Helloooo back again only a year late... Its fine. We're back in time a little but it's fine, trust me you'll like it here >:)

PTSD, fear, implied past trauma, alcohol, unhealthy mindset, unhealthy coping mechanisms, whumper turned whumpee

A boot jabs into Adrian's side, jolting him into consciousness. He leaps to his feet, heart hammering, taking in his surroundings. Warden Mathew Gould, his commanding officer stands over him, face dark with fury. And he's in a cell. Again. Not good.

His heart skips a beat. 

No no no- That's not right. He's in Jesse's cell. Jesse's empty cell, with his tools still scattered across the floor. His tools. 

"What's this Morgan?" The ice in his tone makes Adrian's limbs lock up.

Coward. He forces himself to stand straighter.  

"Sir, I- they-" He touches his head and his fingers come away bloody. He can't remember exactly. His head feels like it's being crushed in a vice. 

"One of your prisoners escaped Morgan. You let them get ahold of your tool bag. They knocked you out and walked out right out over your corpse." 

"Sir-" Warden Gould holds up a hand cutting him off. 

"I don't want to hear your excuses. Get this mess cleaned up then my office." He turns, leaving Adrian alone in the cell.

...

Adrian tries to slow his breathing. Each tool goes into the bag with careful precision. He takes his time, wiping each one clean. Even the ones he hasn't used in weeks. He's disgusted by the slight tremor in his fingers. 

He's good at his job, he reminds himself. One of the very best. In fact, this place wouldn't run without him. This is one slip up. It's getting better, he's getting better. Gould knows that. He wouldn't do anything to jeopardize his performance. Oh yes he would he cuts off the thought, steadying his breathing. 

Gould will need an explanation though. He tries to sort through the tangle of memories in his head. It feels like mashing his brain with a fork. 

Jesse's screams, his rage spurring him on, channeling everything he has into making that… thing hurt. He was getting somewhere. He was, before he let his anger get the better if him.

He could've killed them. Wanted to kill them. Wanted to hear them shred their vocal cords on his fury. He'd lost control.

And then... blackness.

Despite what Gould thinks Jesse had been in no condition to walk out of here on their own. Let alone attack and incapacitate him. Hell, they couldn't even stand on their own and that was before.

But did it matter? Whether they walked out, crawled out or fucking flew out, they were still gone. And it was still Adrian's fault. They were his prisoner, his responsibility and he had failed.

...

By the time Adrian reaches the door to his room he's trembling so bad he struggles to even fit the key in the lock. 

Dread churns his stomach and tries to claw its way up his throat. 

He drops his bag on the floor, and slams the deadbolt home, but even here doesn't feel safe. The stone gray walls and furniture, the utilitarian bed, the empty kitchenette suddenly feel more like a cell than his tidy bedroom. 

He's not a prisoner, he reminds himself. Not a prisoner. He is Intelligence Specialist Adrian Morgan, a free man. His Commander needs to speak to him. He failed today and has to be disciplined, but he's still a free man. 

He could simply choose to not go, he won't, but he could. 

Someone behind him chuckles and he whirls round. No one there. 

Gould will be waiting, wondering where he is. He can't keep him waiting 

It's irrational, his weakness forcing him to base actions. He shouldn't be this afraid. Shouldn't be afraid at all really, but he grabs the chair from his kitchen table and wedges it under the door handle. Giving it a kick for good measure he stumbles to his kitchen. He can't stop the goddammed shaking!

Fuck!

Trying to regain his composure he fills a glass with ice from the freezer and pours a generous dose of his strongest whiskey. He downs it in a single swallow. Then a second, and a third. 

He forces himself to stop before he can finish the fourth, slamming the glass down and sloshing liquid over his hand. 

It's a bad idea to drink before but he can't force himself to the office without it.

weak

A wave of dark reckless energy rushes in with the liquor. He bares his teeth and barks out a bitter sound he can't quite make sound like laughter. 

Fucking get it over with 

He's better than this. 

Better than this fucking whining.

He remembers the fear in Jesse's eyes, in so many eyes, but this is different. He's not like them. This is not the same. He is a free man. A free man who made a mistake. Made a choice to go easy on his prisoner. Actions have consequences and he can own up to his when he makes them. Next time he'll just do what Gould says. It won't work, he won't get the information, but at least it won't be his fault when things go wrong. But that's not true. He knows that's not true. Next time will be his fault. Next time will always be his fault

Next time

He grabs the bottle, pouring whiskey down his throat. 

Next time. No matter how good he gets, no matter how hard he tries, there will always be a next time. Isn't there anything more than this?

He shrieks in sudden fury, hurling the bottle across the room. It smashes above his bed sending a shower of glass and whisky over his pristine white sheets. 

It's not fair, it's not fair its not fair- he crushes the feeling. You deserve it. You know you do.  You made a mistake. A free man has to own his mistakes 

His hands are trembling even worse than before and his jaw aches with the effort of holding back nausea. He will not be sick. He drops to the floor. Giving in, for a moment, to the weakness. Pressing his back into the corner between two cabinets, safe safe safe safe safe safe safe thinking back to the door and the lock and the chair. Safe right now. Safe. He digs his nails into his biceps. Jagged breaths that he grabs and twists into calm, into silence. 

Not allowing a single sound to escape him. He holds his breath, chest still, face blank

He clings to himself. Pathetic

Calm 

When it's done he feels far away. Hollowed out. A free man has to own his mistakes 

It is weakness to avoid the inevitable. Weakness  

Legs unfold beneath him. They're almost too heavy to lift. Numb like they belong to someone else.

Too late to give a fuck now he drains the last of the whiskey in his glass. Numb lips, numb throat he doesn't even taste it. 

Tearing the chair from under the door he throws it to the side not even hearing the crash. 

He sways, trying to lock the door behind him, fit the tiny key into the tiny lock, but his hands won't obey him. Numb fingers fumble and the keys slip through his fingers. He stares at them on the floor. They seem to be moving slightly, trembling with the alcohol. Shaking like everything else. He leaves them laying.

Recommended reading order Previous

Chronological Previous

Masterpost | Next

(If you wanna be removed from the tag list just let me know. I know this is from like forever ago also if I forgot anyone also lmk)

Tag List :) @whumpacabra @turn-the-tables-on-them @kiichu @whatwhump @jay--o @kira-the-whump-enthusiast @syncopein3d @fuckclimatechange @keeper-of-all-the-random-things @mannerofwhump  

@randomfixation @hellodecisionparalysis @starsick1979 @yougivemewhumperflies

[spookyboywhump]

#12 from this ask game for Zander and Cain, please!

Ehehe :3c

12. What's something you want to ask the other? Answer each others question if you can.

“Why didn’t you let me go after your father died?” Zander asks, his arms crossed. It seems like a question he has dwelled on before, something that has bothered him for a long time.

“I- this is a ridiculous question-“ Cain starts, But Zander gives him a stern look, causing him to back down. “What good would it have done?” He snaps instead, and Zander has to resist the urge to hit him.

“Well, I could’ve gone home to my family.” He says bluntly.

“Yeah, I could have let you go home, I could have let you run off and try to turn me in for everything, but I wasn’t about to do that! It just made more sense to keep you.” He says with a huff. His arms are crossed and he’s looking away, like a kid who’s pouting.

“You also get to ask me something.” Zander reminds him, and Cain seems to think about for a moment.

“Why did you ever help me?” He asks, and Zander raises an eyebrow, unsure of what he means. “When my father… hurt me. Why did you get so angry? I’d done the same things to you.” He says, and Zander shrugs.

“I just don’t like seeing people hurt. Even you. Maybe if it had been someone else, anyone other than your father maybe it would’ve been satisfying but… it wasn’t. It was just upsetting.” He tells him. Cain seems to accept this answer, some of the tension from the previous question leaving his body. He doesn’t look as angry anymore, just… somewhat sad, recalling how those incidents went down.

[whumblr]

Graveyard shift

Crossed out - Continued from ch. 17 - Prologue

-

“I see you have some spare time, Varga.”

Words he did not want to hear mere minutes away from a much needed nap. Lucas opened his eyes, stared at the ceiling for a moment and suppressed a groan into a gritty exhale as he rolled on his cot to sit up.

“A seventh day for rest. As is mandated by the warden in the rules,” he said as he pushed himself up and wearily walked towards the bars of his cell where the warden was waiting for him. Keeping a literal iron wall between him and Nero felt somewhat safe. Even though the door was open. And could be opened at all times.

“Which is superseded by new orders from said warden,” Nero grunted with an approving nod, satisfied that the rules were taking root in that stubborn mind, and actually rolling along for once in his life with Lucas’ jests. Not completely in the way that Lucas would want, but it was a start. “I have a job for you.” He pushed the cell door further open and beckoned at him. “Come with me.”

So much for his one and only free Sunday to recover…

But he’d learned quite well what happened when defying the warden’s orders; both by getting schooled on the rules and with practical experience. So he followed.

They walked past Nero’s office, mercifully. At least the job didn’t involve cleaning his office or being smashed to bits.

Nero led him outside instead. Okay? Strange. But the chances of getting a beating behind closed doors were getting smaller. Which was good? Lucas wasn’t really sure what to feel. A job? He wanted to believe that, but the heavy feeling in his stomach told him to be weary.

They crossed the courtyard and all eyes instantly were on them and people stepped aside to let Nero pass. The inmates weren’t exactly on high alert, especially considering Lucas was tagging behind in the warden’s trail, keeping up like an uncertain little duckling, meaning the target was already acquired. Unsurprising. Conversations around them continued, but Lucas noticed the covert little side-eyes.

Nero didn’t seem bothered by the attention and kept marching on. He didn’t even look behind him to see if Lucas was still following him; of course he was. Lucas would follow him to his doom.

And Lucas realised that as well when they rounded a corner of the building and found a gate. Leading outside. Beyond the grounds. To the woods.

“Wait…” he started, breathless, watching Nero open the gate. “Where are we going?”

His question was of course ignored. He stood absolutely frozen in place. The gate swung open, the gate to hell. Silence and Nero’s expectant sharp gaze prompted him to at least take a step forward. “Am I in trouble?” he tried again, a little more panicked.

Nero held the gate open for him, allowing him to pass first, and locked it again.

No answers. Not even words. With a simple wave of his hand, he signalled for Lucas to walk ahead of him.

No more trailing behind, no more ‘trust’. Outside the prison, Nero would keep his eyes on his prisoner at all times. As if Lucas would even dare to take a single step off the little trail taking them deeper into the woods, let alone try to make a run for it. His jelly legs wouldn’t let him. And the mere idea of Nero chasing him through the woods… now that was some nightmare fuel. Yeah, he’d dream about that tonight.

Lucas had imagined his first steps outside of the prison grounds a little differently. Something along the lines of feeling relieved, joyful, surrounded by people… Instead, his heart pounded against his ribs as he actually was on the run, and his stomach swirled with dread. It felt like he was walking to his death.

Was Nero finally fed up with all of this? Lucas glanced back. There was no gun on the man’s belt. Never was. Not that he needed it. He could just break his neck with his bare hands and leave him here to fertilize this forest.

Calm down, Lucas chastised himself. He said he had a job. Can’t do a job when dead, he tried to fool himself to keep the panic down.

For a few blissful minutes, the deception worked. A job. In the woods. Something only he could do. Nothing wrong with that.

Until they went over a small hill and he stopped dead in his tracks. A sharp little gasp broke free and his eyes roamed over the plot of land in front of them.

He forced his mouth back shut when Nero stepped past him.

“Keep walking.”

“What is this?” Lucas still asked, hurrying after Nero who strode forward with big steps, unbothered by the branches and unstable path.

Nero stopped at the clearing. The forest floor was uneven; patches of grass, heaps of leaves, but most of all because of the mounts of sand.

They weren’t exactly neatly placed in a row and there were no crosses or stones, but it was unmistakable.

This was a make-shift graveyard.

A trail of darker earth zigzagged between the lighter heaps of sand. Some of the graves had flattened out over time and some had a stump of wood at the head, indicating that part of the plot was already… occupied.

He took a light step aside, more raising his feet to see where he was standing then actually moving, checking if he wasn’t standing on someone’s grave. A queasy sensation now swirled in his stomach that only increased the more his brain started to make sense of where he was. His hand automatically moved up, covering his mouth, his fingers trembling against his cheek.

Nero walked over to a tarp and threw it open to reveal a fresh patch of earth. He took one of the shovels, rammed it into the earth and stepped back, his eyes on Lucas.

“Dig.”

It was like all the earth under his feet just crumbled and he fell into the darkest hole. A deep chill ran over his entire body and for a second he stood frozen in place.

He hesitantly took the shovel. Waited for some kind of explanation, which of course didn’t come. He glanced again from the grave to Nero, whose expectant gaze didn’t contain much patience.

This wasn’t happening. This couldn’t be happening. He cannot be serious. But Nero was always as serious as a heart attack as he had proven again and again.

His body moved on autopilot and he barely even noticed he was already digging.

Digging his own gr—no. No!

His logic centre was analysing the spare bits of dialogue and what had happened in great detail. Nero wouldn’t have said he’d had a job for him if he was just going to kill him. He would just grunt something along the lines of ‘follow me’ and give just as much explanation as he did now.

This was pure intimidation. Nothing more.

Emotion, however, easily overtook reason quickly; he couldn’t keep his legs from shaking. His heart was pounding. Another swirl of nausea washed over him and he thought he was actually going to be sick.

His battered body protested against the hard labour. Each scoop of dirt weighed a ton. And the thick roots didn’t make the dig any easier either. Every bruise and wound strained under the effort. His dislocated finger, while safely back in its joint and at least not broken, shot rays of pain up through his arm every time he lifted the shovel.

And every time he hit something more solid than just sand, his stomach lurched with fear that he just hit a dead body.

Luckily – or not, depending on what he was hoping for that very second – he didn’t stumble upon anything.

“Is this for me?” he finally unearthed enough courage to ask.

Nero remained as silent as the graves around him and just watched him.

“Because…” Lucas fought to suppress a hiccup and turned away to dig at a fresh corner. “I can do better. You don’t want to do this.”

The only sounds that followed were those of his shovel sticking into the earth and his own groans of effort. The silence was unbearable and only invited his mind to keep on screaming thoughts of doom even louder.

He blinked away tears. Swiped a sleeve over his forehead, pretending to wipe away beads of sweat.

“Whose grave am I digging?” he tried again after a while. “Whose graves are these?!”

Silence. Nero stood there, hands resting on the handle of another shovel, like a general looking down on his troops. His singular troop.

Slowly but surely and with tremendous effort, Lucas sank deeper into the ground and Nero loomed over him even more menacingly than ever.

His body was on the verge of collapse, but he would be damned (literally) if he were to succumb here and lie in his own grave. He was convinced he’d never open his eyes again if he took a break here. So he continued the assault on his body and mind purely on adrenaline.

Until finally, he heard the single saving word.

“Enough.” Nero beckoned him to come back up.

Lucas clambered out of the grave. It wasn’t a full six feet deep, but he still had to drag himself out on his front. He walked to the end of the grave, where Nero was pointing.

“Turn around.”

With a shudder, Lucas did as he was told and faced the grave, trying his best to keep his breathing steady and his tears from falling.

He waited for the hands on his neck. Just a twist and it would be over. Or would he blast him unconscious with the baton and just let him fall forward, cover him up, facedown into the—

Nero walked past him to stand on the side of the grave and Lucas exhaled.

“There are men buried here,” Nero started. “Some had the misfortune to die in an incident. Some were murdered by their fellow inmates. I made the killers dig the graves in the middle of a freezing night, as a warning.” He paused, and looked at one of the distinct patches of ground to his left.

Lucas briefly wondered if these killers were inside that patch now too or were still roaming around in the same prison he occupied… Both options seemed bad. Then again, he might have shared breakfast with other killers as well.

“Others, however,” Nero continued, and his voice grew more ominous. “Others didn’t, shall we say, have their own best interests in mind.”

Lucas nodded shakily, eager to show he was listening and learning. He could relate.

“Technically,” Nero continued in a lighter tone, “they aren’t dead. Their corpses lay here. But on paper, they’re still alive. Serving out the remainder of their sentence.”

In his state of mind, it took a while before all the ramifications actually fully hit his brain. Very far away in his brain, a shocked ‘oh my god’ kept rolling on repeat, but very numb and only focused on his own preservation. If he were to die here, now, no one would find out for a long time.

“So the question for you is: do you want to be alive? Or do you want to be alive on paper?”

“Alive! For real. No technicalities,” Lucas bumbled.

Nero looked at him for an uncomfortably long time.

“Very well.” He inspected the grave. “You can do the rest should I ever go back on that decision…”

Lucas nearly tipped over face-forward into the grave as every muscle unclenched in sheer relief. He stumbled as his knees gave but he forced himself not to collapse. Sharp inhales sounded like sobs, came back out shuddering.

“Put the tarp back and we’ll go.”

Words failed him so he just nodded and covered the grave. Where it would patiently wait for him.

The intense stress slowly left his body as they walked back and his brain started making connections again. Fear changed to bitterness.

“That man I found, my client…” he started, his tone clipped with repressed anger and his voice was shaky. “Why wasn’t he buried here?”

He heard a soft sigh behind him and Nero took a while to answer. “His condition worsened overnight and one of the guards thought it was best to call an ambulance. The man died on the way to hospital.”

Oversight. So Nero didn’t fully control everything yet. That lighted a very dim spark of hope.

Nero escorted him back to his cell.

“Enjoy the rest of your day off.” From anyone else, it would have been a cruel jab, but there was no malice in his tone and Nero marched off.

As soon as he was out of sight and earshot, Lucas finally had the luxury to give in to his body’s needs.

He collapsed right then and there. His knees hit the cell floor. His legs splayed out under him. He gulped in deep breaths, in and out, until they were no longer hitching or shaky.

He was alive.

And now that the fear of death had abated, the only thing that remained was rage.

He had to get word out. He had to!

Because Ava might not be able to set foot inside of this prison, she could still dig around for evidence outside of the grounds. And he would present it to her on a goddamn silver platter.

-

Tag list: @gala1981 @chaotic-orphan @lolrpop @andithewhumper @tippytappytyping @suspicious-whumping-egg @cherrychupachup @alexmundaythrufriday @defire @withdrawingramen @light-me-on-pyre @treasureguardingdragon @notactuallyluska @fortunately-cool-penguin @b0amagination @a-watcher-watching @whumplicity @morning-star-whump @mannerofwhump @jumpywhumpywriter @whumpasaurus101

[theidiotlozer]

Some of the best Whump storys [Tumblr & AO3]

Want something new and whumpy to read? Look no further! Here’s some of the best of the best:

Kidnapp/captive whump:

• MoneyMakers - @coldresolve

• In the woods somewhere - @knivestothroats

• Professional//Victim - @victimeyez

• The Professionals - @knivestothroats & @victimeyez

• SV-240 - @galaxywhump

• Felix and the man - @blurryeyeswhump

• Guns for hire - @avvail-whumps

• Consequence of action - @squishablesunbeam

• Play pretend - @oddsconvert

• Forever be mine - @montammil

• Home is where the hurt is - @whumblr

• Tavi & Damien - @spookyboywhump

• Brother’s keeper - @darkthingshappen

• Cat and mouse - @t0rture-memoved

• A taste of your own medicine - @oddsconvert

• Fifty-eight days - @peachy-panic

• A lamb in the woods - @ex1ledbrethren

• The rare bookseller - @oliversrarebooks

• 340 Days - Moneyfraud

• Dangerous savior - Tenuous

• His boys - Pissedoffeskimo

• The little voice - Redsilverbeet

Pet whump:

• Z2 - @deluxewhump

• Max and Carlo - @deluxewhump

• Seven - @whump-queen

• Love/Joey - @highwaywhump

• Wren/Zander - @spookyboywhump

• Solitaire - @doumidas-whumps

• Do no harm - @peachy-panic

• Kane & Jim - @whumpsday

• Niner - @milk-carton-whump

• Brody - @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi

• Dax - @ocean-blue-whump

• Whispers in the dark - Krynn_Evergreen

Comment if you have any recommendations of your own! 👇

[whumpetywhump]

Whump List ON: Special Agent Todo Hinako

Shoji Yasuhisa

01:

– Punched in the gut, winded, collapses to his knees

02:

– Tasered, collapses, shouting in pain, struggling to get up

– Accidentally reveals a scar on his arm

04:

– Flashback: Loses control and attacks someone, bleeding from the arm

08:

– Hit over the head, collapses, passes out

09:

– Held hostage, tied up, gagged, tasered during an escape attempt, gasping in pain, too weak to move, cuffed to a pipe in a burning building, rescued

TW: Contains themes of suicide, child abuse and noncon

[a-sentient-cup]

poll test

if my calculations are correct

this is gonna

have an absurd amount of time until it expires

but i don't know if it's repeatable

Choice 5

Voting ended onOct 30, 2025

[whumptober]

WHUMPTOBER 2025: PROMPTS LIST

Welcome to Whumptober 2025 — The Eighth Year!

WHUMPTOBER is a month-long, prompt-based creation CHALLENGE (think: Inktober, but whumpier). There are four prompts for each day of the month, giving 124 for you to play with! There is also a list of 18 alternative prompts that can be subbed in for any day to give participants as much creative freedom as possible.

All prompts are meant to serve as inspiration without being taken literally (e.g. you don’t have to include the exact wording of prompts into your work). Feel free to run rampant on interpretation. For example, if the prompt is “flame", you could create something with reference to a candle/campfire, your character could have suffered a burn, or the flame could be a reference to an ‘old flame’ - an old relationship. It’s truly down to you!

You can produce work in any media you choose, including but not limited to: writing, visual artwork, photo/video/audio edits, paper crafts and elaborate recommendation lists (not just a list of links). You can participate as much or as little as you want (i.e. you don’t have to do ALL the prompts if you don’t want to) and prompts can be used in any order. They are also free to use even after the event ends.

Please make sure to read the Event Info and FAQ carefully, as most of your questions will be answered there already. For everything else, you are welcome to come to our ask box or ask questions in our Discord server here.

Information on how to TAG is here.

This year’s AO3 Collection can be found here.

This year’s playlist can be found here.

The ‘Anatomy of a Whumptober Prompt’ post can be found here.

And our 'Resources for Writing Sensitive Topics’ post is here.

We’re very excited to see the community come together for yet another year of Whumptober! Go ham with the prompts, and support your fellow creators - we wish you all the best of luck, but most importantly: HAVE FUN!

Happy whumping,

Mods Vanne, Yenn, Kitty and Surro

Text versions of the prompts, including a google doc format, are posted below the cut!

A Google Doc of the prompts can be found here for easy copy-and-pasting!

Whumptober 2025 Prompt List

No. 1: “Please don’t cry” Lamb to Slaughter | Ceremony | Beg for Forgiveness

No. 2:  “You’ve got a lot of nerve to dredge up all my fears.” Prophecy | Sewer | Taking Accountability

No. 3: “I look in people’s windows, transfixed by rose golden glows.” Isolation | Candlelight | Found Family

No. 4: “Don’t be scared, I’ve done this before.” Non-Human Whumper | Iron Rod | Loss of Powers

No. 5: “My panic’s at the ceiling, but I’m face down on the carpet.” Quivering | Dream Journal | Phobia

No. 6: “No grave can hold my body down.” Caught in a Net | Medical Restraints | Pinned to the Wall

No. 7: “Tell me that you’re okay, and I’m fine.” Trapped with the Enemy | Elevator | Pushed Beyond Breaking Point

No. 8: “Oh horror, oh horror, what did you see?” Self-Inflicted Injury | Held at Gunpoint | Dissociation

No. 9: “We’ll make it alright to come undone.” Touch | Flashbacks | Scalding

No. 10: “There’s nothing you can ever say, nothing you can ever do.” Without Consent | Secrets | Lips Sewn Shut

No. 11: “Can you get through all the pain inside you?” Hidden Injury | Laceration | Forced Reveal

No. 12: “It’ll be for nothing.” Cardiac Arrest | Sacred Place | Withholding Medical Treatment

No. 13: “How dull is it to pause, to make an end, to rust unburnished.” Never Enough | Insignia | Forced Retirement

No. 14: “In the end, it’s worthwhile.” Ignoring an Illness | Body Bag | Wounded Caretaker

No. 15: “You can take a break, if you just tell me that it hurts.” Failed Rescue Attempt | Body Part in the Mail | Live-Streamed Torture

No. 16: “I’ve had the rug pulled beneath my feet.” Repressed Trauma | Permanent Marker | Disorientation

No. 17: “Tell me there’s a hope for me.” Internal Bleeding | Coma | Redemption

No. 18: “As the world caves in.” Dystopia | Ruins | Environmental Whump

No. 19: “You’re on your own, lost in the wild.” Dehumanisation | Living Weapon | On Patrol

No. 20: "That's New." Symptomatic | Fancy Event | Resignation

No. 21: “Sold my soul, broke my bones.” Kneeling | Makeshift Splint | Brainwashed

No. 22: “All the battles I want to win, nothing mattress but giving in.” Self-Sacrifice | Collar | Hunted for Sport

No. 23: “How’d I get to this place?” Intubation | ICU | Choking

No. 24: “I must confess that I feel like a monster.” Came Back Wrong | Painful Transformation | Amnesia

No. 25: “Have you earned your stripes?” Lost Faith | Collision Course | Left to Die

No. 26: “Nothing like a relapse to rehash the kid who was scared.” Relapse | Drawn Curtains | Power Cut

No. 27: “Would you even want me, looking like a zombie?” Surgical Scars | X-Ray | Bedside Vigil

No. 28: “I could always see straight through you.” Backstabbing | Constellation | Creative Restraints

No. 29: “I hope you see the sun someday in the darkness.” Fainting | Broken Dishes | Last one Standing

No. 30:  “I’m putting my trust in an entire half-empty glass.” Burn it Down | Mirror | Confrontation

No. 31: “Even with the smallest cuts. You can still lose so much blood.” Bleeding Out | Gunshot Wound | Rescued by the Enemy

Alternatives List:

"A smile so bright, he’s the devil in disguise.”

“I hear you’re alive, how disappointing.”

“If all my days are numbered, why do I keep counting?” 

Concussion

Viral

Suicide

Immortality

Jealousy

Organ Theft

Ziptie

Deal with the Devil

Yearning

Innocent Bystander

Unreality

Soulless

[whumblr]

Goumon Baito-kun no Nichijou (Daily Lives of Torture Part-Time Job)

This is a world where killing and torture are legalized. Sero, a part-time worker at a torture company, enjoys torturing people every day with his senior colleague, Siu. With the addition of new part-timers Mike and Hugh, fun torture life continues!

..................Is for us? 👉👈

[evil-by-noon]

It's not my fault I just thinks it's really cool and hot when a villain absolutely fucking demolishes a hero's physical body, self esteem, mental health, and general ability to function ever and then says smth super victim-blamey and then keeps them locked up in their house until they get inevitably rescued. And then after the hero gets better a little then they get kidnapped again or otherwise re-stuck with the villain and retraumatized. It's so #relatable or smth idk

Also collars

[jumpywhumpywriter]

Mind over Mind - Hero Whumper Villain Whumpee

Warnings: torture, violence, forced compliance, mind control

Summary: Hero almost loses the fight against Villain... until she uses her unique powers to flip the tables.

Villain and Hero had been fighting for only an hour when both of them started to falter from exhaustion, but that's just the kind of fights they got into. Quick. Intense. Violent. Bloody. The kind that's hardly survivable for long.

Hero wielded two wickedly sharp daggers in her hands, while Villain had one in his left, and a serrated hunting blade in the other. Their weapons clashed together repeatedly, showering sparks onto the ground as they fought fiercely for the upper hand, both of them covered in sweat, bruises and dozens of vicious injuries inflicted by their opponent.

"Don't you ever know when to give up?" Hero grunted through gritted teeth as she blocked yet another one of Villain's attacks.

"Nope, apparently not," Villain sneered, and slashed a blade across Hero's ribs, slicing open a deep gash that made her cry out in pain. It was all the opening he needed. He didn't give her a chance to recover.

Villain closed the distance between them and brutally pummeled Hero with a series of quick blows, too fast for her to block or dodge. He punched her gut hard enough to crack ribs, before landing another blow on her jaw with a concussive amount of force, making her head snap back -- and the peak of the fight was over just like that.

Hero faltered and stumbled back with a broken, rattling wheeze, falling to the ground, and Villain descended on her like a bird of prey, wrapping a strong hand around her throat and lifting her up to pin her against a wall, squeezing hard.

Hero's eyes widened as she clawed desperately at the hand cutting off her air, thrashing uselessly in Villain's grip with slowly failing strength.

"The real question is... do you know when to give up?" Villain chuckled coldly.

Blood trickled from both corners of Hero's mouth as her terrified gaze locked with Villain's.

STOP! A booming voice suddenly roared in Villain's head, making him jerk back in surprise, losing his grip on Hero so that she crumpled to the ground, gasping and choking and coughing blood, her eyes still locked intensely on Villain.

Something brushed against Villain's mind that made him shiver, like claws brushing lightly against his brain, wandering and prodding uncertainly, as though searching for a hold. Then those claws turned sharp, deadly, sinking in.

Villain's whole body went stiff, muscles locking in place as that same voice spoke again.

That's right... obey.

Villain's blood went colder than ice, his face going pale as a slow, stretching pain spread through his body, setting every nerve on fire with excruciating agony as it sank into every part of him.

His mouth gaped, he tried to speak, but couldn't find his voice.

He was rooted to the spot with fear as Hero slowly picked herself up off the dirt, gasping and panting as she caught her breath, rubbing her neck where Villain's hand had been mere seconds away from crushing her windpipe.

She straightened with a groan, staggering a little before finding her balance, one arm wrapped protectively around her bleeding midsection. Then a crooked grin that was part-grimace broke out on her face as she spat out a mouthful of blood.

"My, how the tables have turned," she taunted, though it came out in a shallow, weak rasp of air.

"H-How..." Villain breathed, eyes enormous as they watched Hero with sudden wariness.

Because I never reveal all my playing cards, the voice echoed in his head. It sounded like Hero's -- but her mouth hadn't moved.

My single biggest advantage is letting people underestimate me, the voice continued.

Fear -- genuine, raw fear pulsed through Villain's entire being when he tried to move -- but physically couldn't.

He swallowed hard, fighting to tamp down the rising panic and maintain any shred of composure.

"W-What are you doing... how are you doing this?" He snarled, finally snapping out of the shock.

Hero limped towards him until she was inches away, the icy blue depths of her eyes boring into his, full of righteous anger.

"Surprise... my superpower isn't limited to super strength." She grinned wolfishly at his confusion, the utterly bafflement on her enemy's face.

Funny, isn't it? It's almost like... you don't have control over yourself anymore.

Again, Hero's mouth didn't move.

Hero bent over and picked up Villain's own fallen dagger, pressing it into his hand and resting the tip against her chest without a glimmer of fear.

"Go ahead, give it your best shot," she purred. "All it takes is one little push to kill me... try it if you can."

Villain shuddered as those strange mental claws tightened on him.

He gripped his dagger hard, mustering every inch of willpower in him to end it, to finally kill his greatest enemy, be rid of the menace -- his hand trembled, but he couldn't bring the blade forward.

"Don't tell me you're too weak for murder," Hero mocked with a dramatic gasp.

Villain's brow furrowed, and he held the hilt tighter, pushing, yanking against those restraints shackling him in his own mind. The blade jerked forward an inch, but no more than that, and Hero let out a cold, heartless laugh, easily swatting the weapon out of Villain's hand before roughly grabbing his jaw hard enough to bruise, forcing him to look straight into her cruel eyes.

Villain let out a weak whimper, ashamed that the sound even slipped out. But he was injured, and in pain, confused, and so, so scared... fear was a new feeling for him. He was the most powerful villain in the entire city, strong enough to beat Hero on several different occasions -- but never had he been rendered so vulnerable, so useless before, like a puppet with strings, at the complete mercy of his enemy.

Hero carefully wrapped her other hand around his throat, and step by deliberate step, backed him up until he was pinned against the opposite wall. She applied the same pressure that Villain had put on her windpipe earlier, and Villain's chest started heaving as he struggled to keep drawing air. His eyes went huge with disbelief, he couldn't even fight, his arms weren't working right. None of him was, bound and chained by some invisible force.

Spots danced in his vision, and right when he thought he would pass out the pressure on his neck vanished, leaving him taking great gulping gasps of air.

Hero leaned in close, her head right next to his face.

"Doesn't feel very good, does it?" She hissed into his ear before pulling back.

Her fingers trailed down his chest, almost seductively, running over the shredded lines of his suit where long gashes had sliced through and ripped the leather. They stopped at his stomach, grazing over a particularly deep slash right below the ribs.

Villain shuddered with a wince, a low moan escaping him, and he cursed himself for it.

Hero stared at him, then dug her fingers viciously into the wound, never breaking eye contact, her expression deadpan and impassive.

Villain screamed in sheer agony and writhed, which was more like weakly twitching against the bonds holding him in one place.

Hero took her fingers out, and Villain was left trembling all over with pain, his injury throbbing. His head lolled forward, breathing harsh and ragged as he recovered.

"Huh, even agony can't let you break free," she murmured aloud, as though she were experimenting with Villain, testing the limits of her ability. It was dehumanizing, degrading, and flat-out terrifying to know that Hero could do whatever she wanted to him. Holding his life in her hands.

"S-Stop it... L-Let me go..." Villain croaked. He couldn't help the shakiness in his voice, and Hero's eyes lit up at hearing it. "S-Since when could you even do this?" He added.

"Since always," Hero answered flatly. "I just never show it. I don't use this power often, because it is unfathomably taxing on my body in ways you couldn't even imagine, but today... today I'm feeling violent." Her teeth bared into a feral grin, making Villain shiver uneasily.

"I haven't practiced using it much, so I'm curious to see what potential... motivations might be enough for your willpower and desperation to let you break free of my hold." She tilted her head to one side, a lethal predator in every slight movement. "I can break you in so many ways beneath the surface," she whispered dangerously.

"Let's see how strong your resolve is, hmm?" Hero's gaze dropped down where a dagger was, and she stomped on the hilt, skillfully flinging it up into her waiting hand.

Villain whimpered again anxiously, squirming and eyeing the bright metal, and she pressed the blade against his lips.

"Shhh... all you have to do is raise your left hand when the pain becomes too much, and I'll stop," she said mischievously. A deadly game for her, toying with her new victim like a plaything.

Hero leaned close again, her breath ghosting above Villain's carotid artery as she scraped her teeth lightly against his neck, teasing, violating his space.

She trailed the sharp edge of the blade down his bare arm, not breaking skin at first as she smiled coldly. Then she sliced it deep without warning, tearing a ragged wail from Villain as she started carving into his flesh over and over again while her enemy screamed his throat raw.

Villain tried desperately to push her away, to stop the excruciating agony, do something but stand there and take it... but he couldn't. He physically couldn't.

Tears of pure pain spilled out of his eyes and rolled down his cheeks, hiccupping sobs breaking up his breaths at the sheer intensity of it, every time the blade left a fresh mark of fire in his flesh.

He could feel the warm blood sliding down his arm to drip on the floor with every pounding heartbeat, endless suffering. It was worse when she switched from his arm to the sensitive skin of his abdomen, and he screamed and yelped and cried out as the metal bit his skin repeatedly. Hero showed no signs of stopping anytime soon.

Eventually the screaming devolved to agonized moaning and pathetic whimpers as Villain lost strength, his throat burning fiercely in the aftermath of all his loud cries.

Now, listen closely...

That voice returned in his head, and his stomach churned with dread. He couldn't take any more torture. Any more pain. His whole body was blazing with it.

Take the knife from my hand, and put it against your throat...

Hero held the dagger in her hand invitingly, stained with Villain's own blood.

Villain moaned as his shaky hand automatically lifted to take the blade, then his body betrayed him by resting the sharp, cool metal right under his chin. He swallowed against it, throat bobbing fearfully.

Saw through your neck.

Villain's eyes widened with terror, hand trembling as he fought against the mental claws Hero had sunk into him. But it was no use. The blade started slicing through his skin, and Villain closed his eyes, another teak leaking out as he accepted his fate.

...Now stop. Villain's body instantly obeyed, stiffening in place.

Villain took a rattling breath, cautiously opening his watery eyes to gauge Hero's expression, which was dark and unreadable.

I want you to remember this moment, her voice hissed into his mind, remember that I held your life in my hands... that I could have killed you right now... and I want you to run away from here with that memory, and the scar on your neck will remind you of me every time you look in the mirror. Run, and never come back. If I EVER see your face again... I will not stop.

And suddenly, a rush of cold washed over Villain, an aching absence of a hollow void that opened up, and Villain collapsed on the ground, panting as he felt those vicious mental claws retreat, releasing him at last.

Hero stepped back, eyes narrowed. "You have ten seconds to remove yourself from my line of sight before I change my mind. Run, or die. Ten."

Villain peered dizzily up at her, his face pale with blood loss. "...You're bluffing," he wheezed in disbelief.

"That is a theory you're certainly welcome to test. Nine." Hero's face stayed harsh and cruel, and Villain lurched to his feet with a gasp, not willing to risk the chance she'd given him.

He stumbled into an awkward, adrenaline-powered run, limping heavily away as fast as he could while Hero's voice trailed after him.

"Eight... seven... six..."

She never got to five before Villain was out of sight, slipping away into a dark alley. Gone. Never seen or heard from again.

I appreciate any and all feedback from my peers! 😁 (and if anyone has any other Hero x Villain prompt ideas or things they'd like to see more of feel free to share them and I might write a story for it)

Masterlist

@scoundrelwithboba

[whumpthusiast]

Karma’s Bitch Masterlist

Character appearances

Prologue

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Part 7

Part 8

Part 9

Part 10

Part 11

Part 12

Part 13

Part 14

Part 15

[vvvvvivacious]

it's all over now

[funfettiheart]

Perfectly balanced

[thriftyshark530]

Whumper torturing a captive whumpee so often that whumpee starts reacting before they feel any pain.

Screaming before any contact is made. Begging for mercy before they're hit even once. Flinching at the cell opening. Tears forming as whumper caresses their skin. Desperately trying to negotiate their own release while whumper prepares their weapon of choice. Of course, whumper could play into this and torture whumpee without ever touching them. After all, why break what's already broken.