verendus

I’ve been getting a lot more into vampire whump lately, which I would say is really thanks to the story The Rare Bookseller by @/oliversrarebooks (I literally can’t get enough its so fucking good) so here’s a little thing I did :D

cw: blood, mind control, brief mention of a muzzle, vampire whump

Continuation 

———————————————————————

The world buzzed around him, liquified by the fuzziness seeping into his brain. It was hard to tell where he was now, almost as if the knowledge had slipped his mind, as part of him knew that he had been well aware of the fact mere seconds ago.

Reality felt distant, almost as if he was sitting in the confines of his own mind. 

Unlike usual, his mind was not filled to the brim with nonstop stress and thoughts, but was now rather empty. The sensation of such contrast to his normal self was immensely unsettling, yet at the same time coated with a pleasurable calm, drowsiness.

It was… nice.

And it shouldn’t be. He shouldn’t feel like this at all. Only a slight part of him could make out the situation, a mystical hand gripping his head and squeezing out his brain, and it alarmed him to no end.

He felt like a thrall.

He felt like thrall, and he was a vampire.

He tried to grasp for a reasonable explanation, who had managed it, why, how, yet he could barely manage to even recall where he was. It was completely overwhelming, taking him over completely, and leaving him swimming in a maze of cloudy haziness. 

Docile. Fuzzy. Blank.

Then, the blank faded. Slightly.

It was a voice, and a very nice one at that. The sound enveloped every inch of him, thick and saccharine. Almost recognizable, but not. The realization was only a flicker of light in his brain, before it slipped through like water. The half thought was utterly overtaken by the words.

“I know you’re hungry, dear.” The sudden sensation of a deep rooted hunger, almost starving, bubbled up in his stomach. It was almost as if it had always been there, constantly nagging at him, now amplified by a thousand. He yearned for the hunger to be fulfilled, even subsided at the least.

“Do you feel that? The overwhelming reality, one that you have ignored for far too long? In pursuit of foolish moral ideals?” He did feel it, there was not a doubt in his being. A soft hand pressed gently to his chill back, beginning a faint rub on his shoulder blade. It was pleasurable, almost as much as the instinctive action of licking his thin fangs.

“You’re utterly starving, darling, I know. You know what you’re so hungry for, don’t you?” He did. Even if the realization was being rejected by his faint self, all of him knew the answer.

The thick, rich, enrapturing answer.

As if compelled by the words flowing through his ears and mind, his head tipped into a slight nodding motion, the sleepiness pounding into his head.

“Say it.” 

Against his own will, his lips began to part.

“Think it.”

The word filled his brain, capturing his undivided attention.

“Want it.”

He most definitely did. 

The rubbing on his back ceased, the fingers gently pulling away. He didn’t mind, too distracted by the need pulling at him. He barely registered the sounds around him, the swift slicing of a knife, a muffled, pained whimper.

As soon as they had left, the fingers returned, this time twisting through strands of his neatly kept hair. 

“You want it terribly, don’t you? I can tell, I always have.” The familiarity began to eat at him slightly. “What a shame it would be to have a vampire, a lord even, who refused to drink blood? To prey upon foolish humans? To own a thrall? It would be such a shame, wouldn’t it? It would, isn’t that right, Lord Theodore?”

Through the globby haze, the thought leaked in. She was talking about him, he knew that. He was Lord Theodore. He refused. 

Yet, he felt himself nodding along, still, eager to please her. Her, he then came to the realization, was Scarlett. Even if he was not placed under a layer of fabricated calm, it would not come to a surprise that she of all people had found a way to twist her former friend into the thing he hated most.

“But you want those things, those experiences. Don’t you, dear?” Begrudgingly, his mouth watered at the thought. “I know you do, so very badly. Can’t you just smell it?”

Almost immediately, he felt his nostrils unplug, becoming clear as day. At least clear until a mind-bending aroma filled them to the brim, ripping him from anything close to a thought. His stomach felt as if someone was ripping it apart from the inside, starvation clinging to his entire self. 

“Open your eyes, darling. Open your eyes and you can fulfill the hunger that claws at you.” Upon the command, he did exactly that. 

His pupils instantly settled into the darkness, glossing over the figure in front of him. It practically made no difference to him that the person, the human, was chained and muzzled. He practically paid the sight no mind. He especially ignored the desperate feeling, knowledge, that he knew the human as well. A friend maybe. A good friend, even. The information was being barred from his mind, too enveloped in the obsession already having taken a hold on him.

He was much too focused on the dark, glistening dribbles of liquid seeping from a cut on the human’s leg. He couldn’t help but stare hungrily, greedily licking his knife sharp fangs once again.

“Go on, no one is stopping you. Everyone knows you want it.” Every word that slipped from her mouth, coated in a voice like butter that licked his ears, pounded into his head. As much as he attempted to hold himself back, he was unable to stop his body from operating without him.

For a second he hesitated, then began to carefully make his way to the delicious substance. He was crawling, hands and feet chilled upon the icy floor. 

His mouth painstakingly slowly traveled over the cut, fangs-bared, and hovered inches above. It took all strength to merely shift his eyes to meet hers, bloodshot and puffy, coated with wet tears. She was practically pleading with him, even if they both knew there was nothing he could do.

“It will get rid of the pain, Theo, and return with unmatched pleasure. We both know you would give anything for the hunger to go away. As much as you praise your defiance, you were never good at hiding your hunger. Just give in to your urges, Lord, as animalistic as they might seem.”

I would love to see him breaking free, only to get re-hypnotized, this time with the knowledge of what's going to happen...

But anything continuing that story would be great!

-- @oliversrarebooks

Open Your Eyes (part 1 kinda???)

I’m super glad you liked the first one so much! Fun fact, it was actually part of the very, very early idea for Coming Back to Bite You! Of course, it’s extremely different now, but I find it interesting :) This will kind of clear up some of the story I had in mind!

cw: hypnosis, restraints, lady whumper, vampire whumpee & whumper, human whumpee, conditioning, vampire bite, blood drinking

———————————————————————

How long had he been there? Weeks, days? Held back by the steel, glittering metal of chains, eyes tucked and wound tight to a close? How long would she insist on keeping him there? Torturing him with her mind boggling ability?

When would she finally decide he was to her standard?

“Wakey, wakey, love.” She purred, singing her words with hot breath that beat against his ear.

Back. She was back. And for Theodore, that could only mean things would get worse.

Theo swallowed, thick saliva running down his dry and shriveled up throat. “Scar… Scarlett…” he croaked, voice crackling with affliction.

“Hush, dear, there’s no need for you to speak.” Silence befell him as a finger swiped down his lips, shushing him with a spark of hypnotic force. Another hand danced gently down his scalp. “Remember what I said, baby? Keep your eyes wide open. There’s someone here to see you.”

“Eyes… openn…” he mewled beyond his own accord, obliging her training with eyelids peeking open, still draping his vision with drowsiness.

“Smart boy. So easily entranced now, aren’t you?” He could hear clearly the grin in her voice. The wicked, twisted one that came alongside knowing she was getting her way. Getting exactly what she wanted. Even while enthralled it made him sick. “I bet you’re happy about that.”

He wasn’t, not one bit, but Theodore couldn’t help obeying when she made it feel so disgustingly good. Still, with just his remaining, last bit of fight, he lazily fixed his vision to that of the concrete floor.

Just as he’d unfortunately expected, Scarlett took quick notice of his defiance. “Come on, don’t make this difficult. Look up.”

- Whumper asking Caretaker what they'd do to get a specific part they need to repair Whumpee.

- The Team entering Whumper's lair, ready to get their android back. "FriEnds..." they hear, above them. And they look up and they see Whumpee, maybe not entirely whole, dangling by the neck on a noose. "TurN... Back..."

- Caretaker repairing the android. "You are crying," it says. Caretaker continues working and just nods. "...Why?"

- Whumper hacking the android and reprogramming it, marking its own team members as 'enemies'. Then sending it back :3

- Whumpee overheating trying to help their team to escape.

- Android Whumpee 'hiding' 'injuries': turning off its warnings. "What's that red light?" Caretaker might ask. And Whumpee just turns it off going all, "Probably an error."

have them flinching away from caretaker's soft touch because they believe they don't deserve it‼️‼️‼️

have a caretaker gently massage living weapon whumpee's shoulders, soothing words further adding to whumpee's overall confusion before they eventually lean into caretaker's warm touch‼️‼️‼️

“Whump” isn’t really the right word for what I’m referencing but I can’t think of anything else.

I want a Whumper who bought their Whumpee because they just wanted a companion. Someone else in the house, someone to help with the chores, someone they can just chill and watch a movie with, someone to sit at the table with them while they eat.

All the centered stories I see with tropes kinda like this are always recovery centered, like a second hand pet bought from some shady dealer who is insanely traumatized both physically and mentally. And their owner is always like some sort of radical caretaker, encouraging them to find their humanity again and whatnot.

They still have to be a Whumper, but they don’t have to be *bad*. Just let both them and Whumpee be content with their dynamics.

Whumpee has to wear a collar, but Whumper doesn’t care that much if they have it off in the house—just be sure to have it on whenever they go out or have company over.

The rules aren’t strict, and neither are the consequences if they break them, but there’s still repercussions. They break something? Just a slap on the wrist, a warning or whatever. They enter a room they were told not to? Go to the corner, you can bring a rug over to kneel on, just stay there until Whumper says they can move. Dinner isn’t done by the time Whumper gets home from work? Well then, they can have the leftovers tomorrow morning, but tonight they don’t get to eat. If they don’t finish their chores in time, or if they forget to switch the laundry from the wash to the drier, they might earn themself a slap and a yelling at, but Whumper will move off it quickly and make up for it with a cup of hot cocoa after Whumpee finishes their task.

Whumpee gets a crate, of course, but Whumper doesn’t really lock it anymore. Sometimes Whumpee will sleep on a little cushioned mat in the corner of Whumper’s room, sometimes on the couch in the living room, sometimes curled in Whumper’s bed tucked under the warm covers. They’re allowed on the couch, or they can kneel by the coffee table, whatever.

Whumper doesn’t have a dungeon in their basement. They don’t have a collection of terribly sharp knives or beaded whips or spiked restraints. They have the shock collar they were given with Whumpee’s purchase, and the cuffs, but those were both tucked away in a box somewhere in the attic. Whumper never even bothered to put batteries into the remote.

~

Concept: A Hero and Villain pair who are identical twins

~

"It's twice the income!"

"That you're stealing." Hero waved the stolen bills in the air for emphasis.

Villain crossed their arms over their chest and scowled. "You don't seem to have a problem with it when the rent's due."

"I shouldn't have to bring it up every time, you know this already!" Hero threw the money down and stomped out of the room.

Villain sighed and collected their hard earned money off the floor. Regardless of what Hero said, they still had to put in a lot of effort to earn it - probably way more than their heroic twin, too.

~

Sidekick watched their partner intently. Their eyes were glued to the computer screen on their desk, an intense focus on the game they were playing keeping their attention. Since they were distracted, Sidekick decided now would be as good a time as any to ask.

"Do you think they're up to something?"

"Hm?" That was more of a reaction than Sidekick expected. Usually it took a few tries to get Hero to notice they'd spoken.

"Villain."

[Hero] stiffened for just a hair of a second before their shoulders slumped, forcibly relaxed. "...Probably." They tried to go for nonchalant and were mostly successful. "You know how they like to be meticulous with their plans. Whatever they're up to, I'm sure they're just running in circles overanalyzing the last time we kicked their ass."

Sidekick hummed but didn't make any further comment.

Internally, [Hero] both sighed in relief and cursed their twin. Sidekick was getting suspicious.

It had been a week already. A week of no Villain sightings. A week of 'Hero' acting off.

A week of Hero being sick in bed and Villain doing hero work in their stead.

~

"I could be a hero if I wanted to." Villain didn't know why they took such offense. It was a stupid argument - one they shouldn't even be having.

Hero caught the edge in their voice, just like they always do. The animosity between them had dissipated by this point. There wasn't any heat left in their fight anymore. "You'd make a great one."

Villain's shoulders slumped. This was the kind of defeat they both hated. The kind where no one got to win. "I just... don't want to."

"I know." And they did know. Villain hated that they knew, the depth at which they understood, but they were also grateful for that.

If the flow or voice of my writing changes unexpectedly in this one, that’s because I skipped around like crazy and wrote adjacent chunks of this at totally different times. 😅😅😅

CW: Brainwashing, mind control, captivity, corruption, dehumanisation, somewhat creepy whumper, bad ending (for the hero anyways 😈). I think I got a little unhinged with this one….

Hero was brought before their enemy, held between two of Villain’s goons.

“Villain.” Hero glowered. The villain came closer and looked them over.

“I’ve finally caught you,” Villain said, smiling. “Oh, you’re going to do great things for me.”

“I’ll never help you!”

“Not of your own free will, you won’t. But I believe I’ve found a way around that.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

Villain didn’t elaborate. Hero was taken to a dark room and forced into a chair with a gratuitous number of restraints. They tried to fight, but eventually ended up strapped down. And then more thoroughly strapped down. Restraints all over their limbs, across their torso, then something that wrapped around their forehead.

“I’d tell you that resisting is useless, but I don’t expect you’d listen,” Villain said from off to Hero’s side. “Well, I’ll see you later, Hero.”

Hero could hear the infuriating smile in Villain’s voice even though they weren’t looking at them. Hero growled slightly and tugged against the restraints—which didn’t give way, of course, Villain wasn’t that careless.

Hero heard the door shut, and just like that they were left alone in the darkness.

…

At first, Hero wasn’t sure what Villain had been talking about. Of course, they weren’t happy about the restraints and captivity, but none of it seemed out of the ordinary. They could handle this. Villain’s insinuations made them a little nervous, though. Villain wasn’t the type to make idle threats.

When they got bored and irritated enough, Hero tried shouting. No response. Still, they felt they could handle this. It’s not like their nemesis’ smug face was much better than isolation anyways.

…

It wasn’t just isolation that they were dealing with. Hero wasn’t certain how, but Villain was messing with their head without even speaking to them. It hadn’t been immediately obvious, but it was too consistent and drawn out now for Hero to explain it away as just their imagination. Lies were slithering their way into Hero’s mind in a manner similar to their own thoughts, but far too methodical to be just that. Sometimes Hero even experienced feelings that didn’t belong, however briefly. Hero knew they were lies, and could consciously reject them, but they couldn’t block them out.

Hero figured the most likely culprit was the weird band thing Villain had put across their forehead. It was thick and clunky enough to have some weird technology in it, and it didn’t seem a necessary part of their restraints. Hero wiggled and thrashed their head as best they could, but it seemed to be fixed in place too well for them to get it off that easily.

…

Hero had bruised themself struggling. Probably scraped a little too. They were sore in countless places from pulling and fighting against the restraints, but it had all been in vain. Nothing seemed any looser, and that horrid device was still well affixed to their head.

They were not giving in. With a physical struggle having proved useless, Hero turned their efforts at resistance inward, focusing on fighting whatever Villain was trying to do to them in their own head rather than in the physical world.

…

Hero was agitated. They didn’t feel quite right. They couldn’t be sure that whatever Villain was using on them wasn’t already having an effect. They countered it as best they could with their own thoughts, but they couldn’t be sure.

…

Hero felt sick. It was like what Villain was doing made them all messed up inside. They weren’t sure if it was a psychosomatic result of an emotional reaction they were having, or if some part of Villain’s treatment actually had a physical effect on them, but Hero was feeling nauseated. And just…off. They squeezed their eyes shut and made a sound that was a little too pathetic for their taste. They didn’t feel right. They wanted out.

…

Hero was still feeling unwell when Villain checked in on them.

Hero was transferred to a different room and restrained in a different position, but they were kept just as secure as before. Their captor strode into the room, seeming far too comfortable for Hero’s liking.

“Villain,” they spat, jerking ineffectually against their restraints with the automatic urge to fight their nemesis.

“Got some fire left in you, I see. Tell me, do you still remember your name?”

Hero cursed Villain instead of answering. Of course they still remembered their name, but they weren’t giving Villain any information that might make Villain’s nasty little project easier.

Villain was unphased by the vitriol. “Hmm. Sounds like it’ll take a while.”

“What will take a while? What exactly are you doing?”

Villain shrugged with the slightest of smirks. “Don’t worry about it. By the time you find out for sure, you won’t mind. Now unless you have something productive to say, I think we’re done here.” Villain beckoned to one of their henchmen.

“No! Don’t put me back in there!” Hero wished they could have said that in a way that sounded remotely threatening, but they just sounded desperate. They couldn’t let Villain change them, couldn’t lose themself.

“I’m afraid there’s not much of an option. Unless you’ve miraculously decided to change sides?”

“I’m not helping you. I’m not helping you.” Hero pretended they were only saying it to spite their captor, and not saying it partially to reassure themself. “I won’t do it.”

“We’ll see.”

Hero screamed and fought as Villain dragged them back there, but it wasn’t enough. Villain had them secured too well for it to result in anything but a few more scrapes and bruises.

Hero went back to the darkness, back to the restraints and the sickening feeling of Villain’s messages sidling their way into Hero’s brain.

…

They tried to fight it. They really did. But Hero couldn’t keep it up all the time, not for this long. They found themself slipping. Not listening really, but letting things through. It wasn’t right, and it wasn’t what they wanted, but it was easier.

They picked up their efforts at resistance again when they caught themself, but the fact that they caught it happening multiple times was telling enough. 

…

Hero’s humanity felt further out of reach than ever before. It didn’t really feel like a person anymore. That wasn’t a good feeling. Hero wept.

…

It couldn’t remember its name. That was distressing. It wasn’t supposed to be able to feel distress, but it did. It wished it didn’t.

…

It had been told its name was 491. It supposed that must be true.

Something was still wrong, though. Its feelings weren’t quite right. It didn’t feel like this was how things were supposed to be. It knew things were meant to be this way, really, it just didn’t feel right. Maybe it just needed more time.

…

The weapon didn’t feel distressed anymore. It didn’t feel much at all. Villain had fixed it. It was working better now, not experiencing incorrect feelings or going against what it was made for.

It wasn’t going to fight against them any more. It would do what it was told, as it was meant to. It wouldn’t struggle anymore, or have bad emotions like it had when it was working wrong.

It understood what it was, and who it belonged to. It was a weapon, forged by Villain and for their purposes. The resemblance it had to real people was a testament to Villain’s craftsmanship rather than any sort of indication of its humanity. Its maker and owner was very skilled, and someone more than worthy of its best.

…

It didn’t know how long it was before Villain got it out of its restraints. Not that such things mattered to it. It was Villain’s to keep where they wanted, and they needed to make sure it was fixed and working right.

“How are you doing now?” they asked once it was freed and standing.

“Operating properly, sir.”

Villain grinned. They ran their hands over the weapon, inspecting, and it stayed in place and let them. Villain looked over it hungrily.

They slapped its face. It showed no reaction except to turn its head to face forward again afterwards.

“Perfect,” Villain purred, leaning on its shoulder and twirling a finger in its hair. 491 didn’t react to the handling.

Villain grabbed its hair and pulled its head back, exposing its throat. Not a very strategic position to put the weapon in, but of course its owner could do whatever they wanted with it. “Will you tell me what you are?” they breathed into its ear.

“Your weapon, sir.”

“That’s exactly right.” They released it and righted its head. “And you have no problems with that? No problems with doing whatever I say?”

“Of course not. That’s what I’m made for.”

“Yesss. Perfect.”

Villain took a step back and looked over their weapon once more. They were smiling, with something like victory in their eyes.

“Your precious hero agency won’t stand a chance,” Villain said gleefully.

“Sir?” 491 didn’t understand; the hero agency didn’t belong to it, nor did 491 think of it as precious.

“Oh, don’t worry about it. It’s just…a figure of speech.”

Vampire keeps their thrall hypnotized so they do all the chores without making a fuss and so they don't accidentally hurt themselves bruising or spilling any of their precious blood.

Whumpee breaks out of it randomly by something silly like a sneeze and comes back to hella confusing circumstances.

WOHEO Masterlist

Love this sm. Kinda mad cause I wrote all of it and then realized I was originally gonna go in a very different direction😭

cw: hypnosis, dehumanization, vampire whumper, human whumpee

———————————————————————

Nevan smiled contentedly to himself as a pile of dust flew into the pan. The broom, brittle and old scratched against the hardwood flooring of the mansion. Satisfied, he carefully poured the dust pan’s contents into a nearby trash can.

He had almost done all of the cleaning for the abode, the only room left being one of the many dedicated for storage. Nevan always felt exceedingly proud of himself for fulfilling his sanitation duties so well, even if there wasn’t much to clean when he repeated the same tasks every single day.

Darius liked his home spotless, and Nevan was more than happy to oblige to the wills of his master. Cleaning was the one thing he was notably good at, subsequently making it his sole job in Darius’ home. Besides being a food source, of course.

Transferring to the next room to be cleaned, Nevan was giddy with the thought of receiving his promised reward. 

Cleaning was his purpose, his sole job in life, so there was really no need for a reward. Yet, Darius was so kind hearted and generous, that he always promised his thrall a reward for his work. Whether it be presenting him with another place to cleanse or an extra feeding for that week, Nevan was over the moon simply with knowing he had pleased the vampire.

Nevan studied the mess he was presented with. The storage rooms were always a bit arduous to take care of, mainly due to the overwhelming clutter that had formed over centuries. 

He began with a smaller brush, sweeping the tops of boxes and junk. Before he knew it, whatever dirt inhabited the room had unsurprisingly mixed with the air, floating into and itching at his nostrils. 

He leaned his head back, readying himself for a sneeze.

Seering pain sliced through his brain as his body forcibly doubled over, almost as if splitting his head in half. Nevan clutched his head desperately, stumbling and slipping over his feet. He pulled frantically at his hair, the agony spreading to his scalp as well.

The human dropped onto sore knees, expelling a distraught whine. He panted heavily, attempting to settle himself. 

Luckily, after an endless repetition of deep, calming breaths, the pain subsided into a faint throb. Nevan groaned, rubbing at his tear prickled eyes. Out of reach thoughts danced inside his mind, too rapid to be coherent.

Holding his head in one hand, he forced open his soggy eyes. Gazing down at his own lap, confusion began to settle in.

How did-? Why was he…? Cleaning supplies?

Clutching the short broom in his hand, he noticed what was under it. “What?” He groaned, grabbing at the fabric covering his lower body. Whatever it was, it was large, frilly, and itchy, a terrible combination.

Nevan felt around, pressing his palms to the floor and pushing himself onto wobbly legs. He clung to a tall stack of cardboard boxes, his knees buckling. He took in the room, filled to the brim with piled up rubbish. 

Particularly, Nevan’s gaze landed on a long, thin mirror several feet away. He shuddered, digesting the image of the figure reflected. 

It was him. The reflection held Nevan’s eyes, Nevan’s moles, Nevan’s nose, yet they looked so different. Like a failed clone. His hair was lengthy with a healthy shine, his face and body meticulously clean shaven, and he wore a grand, luxurious dress. 

Worrying of all, were the achining wounds in his neck. Red, oozing and sore, Nevan gaped at the sight.

It couldn’t be him. Nevan didn’t do those things. He kept his hair short and easily manageable, he never gave a second thought to body and facial hair, and he sure as hell had never been very comfortable in a dress. He began grabbing at the excessive tool covering his thighs, trying to ease the irritation on his skin.

Once again, the burning sensation returned full force, tearing apart his brain in a wave of remembrance. 

Fear settled over him, a whimper catching in his throat. He was in a vampire’s home. Caught in a web of mind-bending magic, and by some miracle had broken through. His breathing quickened, short and frantic. 

What would he do? What could he do? If he got caught, there wasn’t a chance he’d ever get the opportunity to escape again. Maybe the monster would be so angry, they’d kill him.

“Nevan? Are you almost finished with your chores?” His heart stopped. Nevan lifted a trembling hand to his mouth, pushing his back against the objects behind him. “Where are you?” They called. 

Nevan slid down the boxed, landing on his bottom. Darius was close. Too close. If he tried to leave now, he would surely be caught, but the same was ensured if he didn’t.

Footsteps picked up, the clicking sound of Darius’ heels growing closer. “There you are.” Carefully, Nevan turned his head to face the beast, meeting a wicked grin. “Are you ready for your reward? I’m especially hungry today.” They said, adjusting the collar of their jacket.

Nevan let out a whimper and a snivel, alarms blaring inside his head. The vampire paused, studying him, his smile contorting into a confused frown. “What’s wrong? What did you do? You shouldn’t look like that.” 

Just, Whumpee knowing that the Heroes won't afford them the same consideration as other villains. Even if the Heroes aren't actually trying to kill them they can do far more damage to Whumpee then they would a regular or even super powered humans.

It's not a big deal if the Heroes rip Whumpee's limbs off or leave them blind and deaf. Maybe it's because they don't see Whumpee as a person or maybe it's just because, well, they can always be repaired, right? They always turn up for another fight eventually so it must be fine.

But they don't see the way Whumpee struggles to put themself back together, desperately scrounging for spare parts they don't have. Or how many painful mistakes they make trying to repair themself when their hands are shaking from the damage. How every repair job is a little bit less stable, how every hit does just a bit more damage than it used to.

They certainly don't see the terror. Whumpee's utter desperation to not get caught. As dangerous as Whumpee is, they know that once they're captured there's no hope they'll ever get free again. They'd be pathetically easy to keep contained. Their limbs could be removed, their senses shut off, their very memories hacked into and revealed. They'd be stripped bare, helpless in a way no other convict would be.

Worse, they could be reprogrammed. Their selfhood and freewill edited away in the name of national security.

No, Whumpee can't afford to be captured. They'll make sure no one ever sees how vulnerable they are. The cost of failure is too high.

A sidekick and a henchman are forced to work together, when neither can find their superior. Hero hasn’t been seen in weeks, and villain has been absent for more than two months. While searching the two came across each other, and vowed to make things temporary.

They do everything they can to not get along. It doesn’t stop themselves from constantly enjoying the small moments in each other’s company. Don’t expect sidekick or henchman to mention it though.

Searching becomes part time, when the two also start to take up their superior’s responsibilities. Eventually sidekick is the new hero, and henchman is the new villain. They throw in the towel on finding their superiors, their friends.

It isn’t until a supervillain surfaces, that the two are forced to work together again. Banding together to fight off the supervillain, neither were happy to find that supervillain was far more powerful then them.

Bested, the two shift their glares off each other, and to the supervillain before them. Supervillain savors every moment in their defeat. Their exhausted breaths, the bloodied pavement, the pure shame on both of their faces.

The hero or villain switching sides (forcibly or willingly) is like my kryptonite

cw: cursing, restraints

———————————————————————

Assistant hesitantly knocked his clammy knuckles against the door. 

One, 

two, 

three knocks.

No answer.

Not that he expected one of course. He gradually turned the doorknob in an attempt to notify the owner of the room that they had a visitor. Assistant leisurely poked his head in, grinning, but not enough to agitate his company. 

“Hey, I’m here, uh, with your food.”

Assistant paused for a moment, sure to make no sudden movement, and watched as a pair of eyes glared daggers at him from across the tight room. Once he knew he would receive no verbal recognition, Assistant bumbled in and plopped down into an uncomfortable plastic chair. 

The pair of eyes remained locked onto him.

“Still salad…again. Sorry about that, food is kinda limited when, y’know, you’re in a base for outlaws.” Assistant chuckled slightly.

No reaction came from the person strapped to the bed.

Sweat began encompassing Assistant’s bony fingers, as he gripped tighter onto the two food trays that he was carrying.

“I-I did grab us some steak though! I made sure to grab some before it was all gone, just for you. I know how you like, uh, meat.” While he was talking he had watched the person deliberately turn their head to look in the other direction, at the wall, rather than at Assistant. Assistant gingerly placed the two trays full of food onto the lean table next to him.

“You don’t know anything about me.”

The words were spit out bitterly, coated in displeasure. 

Villain talked to him. Villain had of course talked to him before, they’re best friends, but this was the first time since his disappearance that when communicating he hadn’t screamed, shouted, or insulted Assistant. It was obviously meant as a means of causing displeasure toward his captor, but it had not mattered. Assistant was beyond jubilant, his body flooded with euphoria, but he had forced himself not to show it, so as to not irritate Villain more. 

“I-uh,” Assistant struggled to search for a correct answer, hesitant to give the wrong reply. The room went silent for a moment, the air thick and stuffy. “Villain, I really, really, don’t know what's going on with you, but-”

Villain’s firmly restrained hands balled into fists and his head whipped around to face Assistant. 

“That’s not even my name! You criminals are all insane if you think I have some-some, stupid past with you! You’re all dumb idiots who are either trying to mess with me, or you’re just all stupid!” Assistant recoiled as Villain furiously fought against the mountain of restraints working to contain him, getting his face as close to his foe’s as he could muster, and continuing his ranting.

“You really think that I’m just gonna let you people mess me up?” Hero let out a boisterous laugh. “You really think I’m gonna believe some stupid made up sob story about me? You’re all fucking idiots. You and all those disgusting villains. You’re probably the most pathetic villain I’ve ever had to look at! I hate you, I hate you, I hate you! Let me out!” 

Assistant lifted his right hand, using his powers to curl firm vines over Villain’s limbs as another added restraint, as he backed towards the door. Once opened, Assistant quickly yelled out to any possible passer-bys for medical assistance. Villains yelling became louder, insults among the worst kind, and screams of fury. 

“You’re gonna sedate me? Again? Just as I thought! You fucking coward!”

“Whatever makes you speak such foolish accusations?” Hero flushed.

The dragon hadn’t quite mastered transforming into a human yet. Her form was mostly human. The plains and edges of her body were cold and gaunt as a statue. Anybody could look at her and deduce that her towering height and sculpted body were inhuman—too mystical and uncanny to be human—but to her credit, she could almost pass. Though her other features such as the claws at the end of her long fingers and her nearly glowing purple eyes offset how close she managed to get.

Villain narrowed her eyes and took a sinuous step forward. “The last knight who came made it far. He was skilled. He made it past my defenses and all the way up to the window.” Hero’s eyes darted to the small window—the only escape from the tower, too high for her to climb out of without assured death. “Then…he fell. How odd, isn’t it?”

Hero’s mouth was a desert, her tongue dry as it brushed the roof of her mouth. “He slipped. It must’ve been my jarring beauty.”

The villain slammed a hand down on the desk, and Hero winced. “Oh? He slipped?”

“I said that, didn’t I?” Hero retorted.

The hairs on the back of her neck stood upright as she faced her captor’s glare. Searing. Piercing. Flaming. Villain had a beauty that was intimidating—her features were sharp as a sword and her glower as scorching as the flames she breathed. She was a dragon. She was a villain.

Hero wasn’t meant to stay in the tower. No, a prince or a noble knight would come along and save her. Then, she’d be wed, and the dragon would be vanquished.

“I’m no fool, princess.” Villain seethed.

“Really?” Hero crossed her arms. “You’re the one that kidnapped a princess, knowing the whole kingdom would send forces to rescue me. If you were going to get bored of killing knights then you should’ve kidnapped a maiden or a peasant.”

“I collect treasures.” Villain stood back up to her full height, and she strolled to Hero’s other side, circling the captive like prey. “That knight was the best in the land, and then he suddenly slipped? Improbable.”

Her voice was a purr in Hero’s ear, her lips brushing warm on her skin.

Hero swallowed and stared at her bottle of ink, focusing on the candlelight flickering in the glass instead of the dragon breathing onto her. “Accidents can always happen. I can only imagine how much adrenaline was pumping after making the grueling journey to the tower and fighting a dragon.”

“Would it be possible that you pushed the knight out the window?”

Hero’s cheeks heated up. “No, I did not. Your accusations are inane and meaningless. One day, I’ll be rescued from this tower by an honorable man and your head will be on a spike.”

Villain narrowed her eyes, and Hero clenched her jaw so hard that it ached.

Hero had pushed the knight from the window and she did want to stay, but she could never admit either of those because not only would the entire kingdom think of her as a disgrace to her royal blood, but she’d also be sacrificing her pride by admitting Villain was right..

The dragon hooked a finger under Hero’s chin, careful to keep her claws from piercing the other’s skin, and forcing the other to lift her head. “You’re hiding something from me, and I will find out what it is.”

Hero’s heart drummed against her chest. “I’d like to see you try.”

Villain strolled back to the window, her skin gradually transforming into shimmering scales. “By the way, princess, I hear they’re sending a king next…from the neighboring kingdom. Heard of him?”

Horrified, Hero’s eyes widened. “Superhero?!”

“Ah, that’s the name.” Villain smirked. “Are you going to push him out the window, too? Or are you going to think of something a little more classy?”

Her wings popped out her back, and before long she was back to her dragon form, a long tail curled around the tower as she climbed up to her perch at the top.

There were many nobles and royals that Hero couldn’t keep track of, but if she knew a name, then it was Superhero’s.

I’m going insane I’ve been writing so much lately it’s crazy

I reallyyy like this one, so I hope you enjoy!

I wrote a part two as well :D Part two

cw: restraints, mild cursing, hypnosis/conditioning, pet whump

———————————————————————

Villain couldn’t move.

The countless restraints made sure of that.

They also ensured his instinctive panic upon gaining back consciousness. He struggled, fought against the leather straps, but of course the fight was futile. Even while squirming so determinedly, he was stuck.

Almost immediately upon his awakening, the room echoed with boisterous screams and shouts. Some were made from confusion, some anger. “Where am I!? What the fuck’s going on!? Let me out! Let me out! I’m going to fucking kill you!” Furious spittle flew from his mouth.

He could barely make out the area around him, only being able to make out a few cluttered tables. Villain continued spitting malicious roars at seemingly nothing.

Minutes passed.

So many minutes, he had no way of telling how many. 

His voice had become hoarse and strangled from the screaming. His words were slowing, quieting, coming to a stop. No one was there. He was alone in a strange place, strapped rigidly to an uncomfortable chair.

“Just fucking… show yourself already… asshole…” No response.

A click.

Villain would’ve looked if he could, but the noise came from behind him, and his head was currently not allowed that type of movement. Or any, really. 

His raspy voice picked up slightly. “Fight me… dickhead…” The determined steps approached closer, until the mysterious figure had walked right past him, practically ignoring the man strapped to the chair.

As the figure walked past, Villain caught a mumble stumbling from the figure’s lips. “Fuck. I missed the best part.” In return Villain forced his voice to return out of pure rage, but continued insults did nothing to catch the attention of the person rummaging around the room. 

A faint hand reached to the ceiling, and with another slight click a singular lightbulb lit across the room. Villain could make out the person a bit better now, their stretched frame, their long silky dark hair. Every step of theirs was determined, made with purpose as they circled around several locations. 

Superhero.

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