A whump enjoyer’s blog || No smut!!! || Just a writer trying to support other writers and artists ;) || Asks are open! Ask me anything or request a prompt!
Hello! I’ve seen people make these kinds of posts to live at the top of their blogs and I figure- why not?
I’m secret-w-l or swl for short and I’ve been a part of the Whump community for a minute now.
I reblog posts I like, and I try to reblog as often as I can! Reblogging is how we see each other’s works!! It’s so important on tumblr and I encourage new users to reblog constantly. It’s how you meet people and engage in art and conversation!!
People like to list the things they like so here goes mine:
-used as bait
-kidnapping
-bound and gagged
-damsel (m or f!) in distress
-Hero x Villain // Civilian x Villain // Hero x Civilian (so, Hero Whump, more succinctly)
-Royal Whump
-Non-human Whump (so I’d say fantasy falls here too!)
-Drugged Whump
-Team Whump
(( I’m sure I have more, but I cannot think it up. Always feel free to ask or tag me in a post you suspect I’d like! ))
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I will be steering my blog clear away from nudity, NSFW, smut, and other similar content. I am not saying these kinds of posts don’t have their places, but I am personally not comfortable with them.
A few things that are also not my cup of tea:
-treating Whumpee as a “pet” or animal.
-medical Whump (needles! 😖)
-character death (this one is dependent on the story, but generally I’m a fan of happier endings)
-military Whump
Again, these things are not my personal favorites but I have nothing against others who enjoy these things and welcome friends from each corner of this incredible community!!
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I am a writer by heart- I have a couple of works here on my blog but what I’d love to circulate the most are my Whump Writers Prompts! These are posts in which I write a snippet of a scene and you finish it out in a reblog! I’ll tag my full collection of them here!
Really, I’m here to enjoy the fruits of this community. I felt like a totally insane person until I learned about the Whump community. When I learned that I wasn’t alone. People are so so cool. Especially you people. Thank you for making me feel welcomed around here. You’re all awesome!
Let’s become mutuals so we can see each other around here all the time! I can’t wait to meet you guys!
One minute they were asleep, having dozed off on the couch while watching TV and the next there was a strong hand covering their mouth. Before they could even wake up fully they were dragged to the ground. The sound of duct tape being torn from the roll filling their ears as their arms were wrenched behind their back.
Whumpee was left on the ground, squirming and yelling uselessly into the tape over their mouth.
Maybe they could see Whumper (And friends?) taking their valuables. Maybe they couldn't.
That's not important. It's what's at the end that matters.
Whumper isn't planning to untie them after all.
They'd be stuck until someone finds them, or they manage to break the tape. How long could that take? Hours? Days?
What would be worse for Whumpee? Being left there, alone and helpless; or having Whumper decide to steal Whumpee along with the rest of their haul?
“Good news, Sweetheart,” Moriarity flashed a crooked, leering smile. He had never revealed his name, thus Jessie had mentally assigned him the rather appropriate nickname of Professor Moriarity. “Someone has agreed to pay your ransom.”
Jessie lifted her head, her eyes flooding with sudden hope. She tried to force it down, remembering that he had lied to her before. But she couldn’t ignore the way her heart had fluttered at those words. Even though she knew that nobody would come for her. She lived alone and had no family, except a few distant relatives who had never even cared enough to invite her for Christmas. And then there was Daniel, but he was only a friend… and Moriarity didn’t even know about Daniel.
“Who?” Jessie’s voice trembled.
“That is a secret between me and them. You don’t get to know yet.” Moriarity chuckled. His refusal to tell her dashed her hopes completely. It must be some sort of sick joke of his. “They’ve promised to deliver the money within the hour, we’re going to meet them now. We’ve got to get you ready to go.”
Jessie curled her body into a tighter ball, tugging at the sleeves of her ragged hoodie as if she could disappear inside of it. She didn’t want to go anywhere with Moriarity, even for a supposed ransom. She didn’t believe him.
“Come on, girl, off with the sweatshirt,” Moriarity snapped. “If you’re going to be like that, then you lose the privilege. Now hurry, before I change my mind and go without you. I’ll get my ransom and you’ll stay here.”
In answer, Jessie wrapped her arms around her knees and hid her head. She wouldn’t go so far as to verbally argue with Moriarity, she was too afraid to do so, but neither could she comply. It was snowing outside and all she had beneath her hoodie was a thin t-shirt and a pair of shorts. It was what she had been wearing when she was kidnapped, days ago. Or had it been weeks? She had lost count. She had been at home when he found her, in her little apartment, just sitting on the couch watching old reruns of I Love Lucy. The thought of it hurt her. She desperately missed the safe, comfortable feeling of home and freedom.
“I have to do everything,” Moriarity sighed longsufferingly as he advanced, tugging at the hoodie. Jessie panicked, pushing his hands away and slipping out of its comforting warmth without further hesitation. She couldn’t bear to have him touch her. He hadn’t hurt her much, just manhandled her a little, but she was terrified of him. Who knew what he was capable of?
“So you’re going to be compliant now? Excellent.” He grinned again. “Then open your mouth, girl.”
Jessie obeyed, her body trembling as she closed her eyes tight and opened her mouth. She heard the rustle of fabric and then recoiled slightly as it was pressed against her tongue. It was jammed in until her entire mouth was filled, cutting off her air. She breathed hard through her nose, whimpering as her jaw was roughly forced shut and duct tape pressed firmly over her closed lips.
“Good. Perfect.” Moriarity was laughing. “Now turn around and put your hands behind your back.”
Getting up on her knees, Jessie pivoted and held her hands out behind her back, wincing at the feel of tape wrapping around her wrists. Her vision was cut off then as Moriarity bound a bandanna over her eyes… and then pushed her forward to lash her ankles together with the tape before pulling her roughly to her feet.
“Now you’re ready.” She could hear the satisfaction in his voice. What sort of twisted delight did he get out of this? She shuddered, feeling sick to her stomach. She was suddenly terrified that she would throw up in the gag. It was suffocating her… she couldn’t breathe… she tried to cry out, but all that came out was a muffled moan. He didn’t react as he dragged her along, his fingers seeming to burn into her skin.
She fought against the rising panic as she tried to focus on the sounds and sensations around her. First there was a sudden blast of strong, icy wind, and then she heard the hum of an engine, and a car door opening… and she was picked up and shoved inside, pushed onto the floor and covered with a blanket, head to foot. The blanket smelled funny and she writhed in disgust. There was a low laugh from Moriarity, sending shivers down her spine, and then she felt a hand on her arm again… and a pin prick… and she felt her body going limp. The panic grew stronger, swirling around her until she could barely see straight, and somehow she managed to cling to consciousness.
It seemed an eternity before the vehicle pulled to a stop. And Jessie waited, dizzy, nauseous, and only half-conscious. She was nearly stifled under the heavy blanket, her hair lying tangled over her face, sweat trickling down her back. Her arms ached from being bound in this unnatural position and the gag was choking her.
The car door up front slammed as Moriarity got out. Jessie could hear voices, although she couldn’t distinguish words. Her heart raced. That… no, that couldn’t be… but… yes, it was Daniel’s voice! She screamed wildly, trying to force her voice around the suffocating gag as she struggled, hopelessly tangled inside the blanket. Whatever Moriarity had injected into her, it had only just barely beginning to wear off and her movements were feeble.
Daniel’s voice outside grew urgent, and then angry. Jessie screamed louder, praying that he would hear. She tried to kick her bound feet against the door and when that didn’t work, she tried to slam her head against the floor. She fell silent a moment, stunned as stars shot at her from the pitch-black darkness. Something that sounded like a scuffle was going on outside and her stomach lurched with fear. Moriarity didn’t intend to let her go. He was going to kidnap Daniel too.
Jessie couldn’t stop screaming. Over and over she cried out, forcing muffled groans and jumbled words through the thick wad of cloth in her mouth. Her head rushed dizzily and the stars seemed to explode before her eyes. And suddenly, the door by her head was open and the cold wind hit her full-blast.
She jerked away at the feel of a hand on her arm, trying to curl herself into a ball again. If her mouth had been free, she would have bitten that hand as hard as she could. And then there were two hands, and they were pulling her from the vehicle, clawing off the blanket as if it was something poison… and she felt herself wrapped in the gentlest, tenderest, warmest embrace. She caught her breath and let go, letting herself sink into those strong arms. Because she knew that Moriarity could never hold her like that.
“Shh, it’s okay,” Daniel was whispering, holding her so closely that she barely felt the cold. “Police are here, they’ve got the kidnapper… he won’t bother you again.”
Jessie whimpered in relief, trying to turn her head to hide her face against his chest, breathing in the faint scent of sandalwood that always hung around him. He was moving quickly, carrying her somewhere… and then she heard another car door opening and closing as Daniel slid into the back seat of a vehicle, holding her on his lap. She was wrapped in another blanket, warm and sweet-smelling, and the blindfold was taken from her eyes. She could have wept just to see his face… his deep brown eyes flooded with concern.
“Jessie…” he murmured. “My Jessie…” and his voice broke. He reached up, fingers fumbling gingerly with the edge of the tape pressed over her mouth. He pulled it away so, so slowly, his brow furrowed. He winced at even the slightest movement she made, terrified to cause her pain. The duct tape gone, he gently opened her lips with his fingertips and took the cloth from her mouth. She gasped, her chest heaving as she drew in desperate gulps of air.
“Are you alright?” He lifted her chin, scanning her face. “Are you hurt anywhere?” He moved to her wrists, carefully peeling the tape from her skin. She sucked her breath in as the tape tore a layer from her skin and his movements slowed, the worry in his eyes deepening. He only managed to halfway free her hands when she suddenly choked on a sob and burst into tears.
“Oh, Jessie…” he wrapped her in a bear hug, his arms completely enveloping her. His right hand moved to her cheek as he pressed her head against his shoulder, brushing the hair away from her face and pressing a chaste kiss on her forehead. Her sobs became uncontrollable, wracking her body as she struggled for breath.
“Jus’... hold me…” she gasped out. “Don’... don’t let go…”
He clutched her tighter, cradling her as he rocked gently back and forth. She nuzzled her face against his shoulder… focusing on the fabric of his shirt beneath her cheek, already damp with her tears… and his muffled words of comfort, whispered into her hair.
“I’ve got you, Jess,” he whispered. “I’ve got you. You don’t have to be afraid anymore.”
“I know you’re just the librarian,” the warden sighed, leaning against the desk as Skye sorted through a stack of books. “But I need your help with something. Your resume said you had worked a bit in therapy…”
“Just with books, strictly books,” Skye glanced up as her hand lingered on a copy of The Count of Monte Cristo. “I read to people, have them read to me, it helps calm them, gets their minds focused on other things. I’ve worked in a few trauma centers before. Which is why I came here, to the prison.”
“Then you’re exactly what I’m needing,” the warden nodded in relief. “Gather up a book or two and come with me, I’ll explain on the way.”
Skye scooped up Monte Cristo and hugged it against her as she hurried down a long corridor in attempt to keep up with the warden’s long strides. He was speaking of a dangerous prisoner, a man so dangerous that the guards were afraid to work with him, so they left him alone in solitary confinement. It was strange, his explanation… it seemed that no one had really seen him committing this violence the warden spoke of, it was only his criminal record that had them so terrified. It was a high-profile case, the details shrouded in mystery, and Skye couldn’t make much sense out of the jumbled explanation the warden gave her. But the thought of it was frightening her.
“Don’t be worried, Miss,” the warden added, as if sensing her fear. “He’ll be kept restrained while you’re with him. You’ll be perfectly safe. All that we ask is you spend a bit of time with him. I think he needs a calming sort of presence.”
So saying, he stopped in front of a cell door and pushed it open. The guards who had been sent ahead to restrain the prisoner were there already… and Skye stopped dead, Monte Cristo slipping from her fingers and falling to the floor as she stared in shock. The scene that met her eyes was one of brutality, like nothing she had ever seen before. The prisoner… a tall young man about her age… was on his knees, struggling wildly as the guards fought to twist his arms behind his back. He cried out, throwing his head back in frustration and pain as his arms were tied, the ropes pulled tight. His body was writhing in attempt to get away from their rough hands, but they held him down forcefully.
One of the guards seized the prisoner’s head in a vice grip, forcing it still as the other tried to gag him. The prisoner clamped his teeth shut instantly and it took both of the guards working together to pry his jaw open enough to stuff a handkerchief inside. Another strip of cloth was bound over his mouth, viciously tight, turning his anguished roar into a muffled groan. When they finally stepped away, the prisoner was kneeling bound on the floor, his body trembling, wracked with strangled sobs. He looked more like a wounded animal than a dangerous criminal. Skye read terror in his eyes, not viciousness.
“Well, that’s what you have to work with, Miss Skye,” the warden shrugged as he nudged the prisoner with the toe of his boot. “His number is 5604. I’ll be back in an hour for you.”
And the door was swung shut, leaving Skye alone with the prisoner. He didn’t seem to notice her, his head bowed, his chest heaving as he tried to draw ragged, gasping breaths through the gag, almost choking on it. He drooped a little further to the ground, quieting as he switched to breathing hard through his nose. Every few seconds, a violent tremor passed through his body. He was shaking like a leaf in the wind. Skye moved closer, tentatively, to kneel beside him. A pair of glasses lay on the floor beside him, where they had fallen when first the guards began to bind him. She picked them up, turning them over in her hand for a moment before reaching out to brush her fingers gently against his cheek.
He raised his head quickly, glancing at her with startled blue eyes. He strained at his restraints, forcing words through his bound mouth that she could not understand. Gently, she wiped the dust from his glasses and then the tears from his eyes before slipping the frames back onto his face. A note of curiosity crept through the pain and terror in his eyes as he looked at her. She reached behind him, fumbling with the strip of cloth they had gagged him with. It came away after a few minutes of struggle with the knots and he tried to spit out the handkerchief still stuffed in his mouth, but there was too much of it.
“Shh, it’s okay…” she whispered. “I’ve got it…” Something about her voice seemed to calm him and he relaxed slightly, opening his mouth to let her pull the fabric out. The gag had left deep red marks on his cheeks. He tried to speak, but she shook her head as she lifted a bottle of water to his lips. He drank deeply, his eyes fluttering shut in relief as she ran gentle fingers through his hair. His frantic sobs had subsided into quiet sniffs and he leaned wearily against her hand.
“You poor thing,” she murmured, her heart flooding with pity. “No, don’t try to talk, it’s alright. It’s not books you need though… they don’t understand, do they… the brutes…” she laid her hand against his lips when he tried again to talk. “I’m only here to help, I promise. My name is Skye, I’m the prison librarian. They thought it would help for me to spend time with you.”
“Skye…” his voice came out in a halting, raspy whisper. He smiled half-heartedly. “My name is Ethan. And in spite of whatever they told you about me… I’m not a wild animal.”
“I didn’t think so,” Skye grinned sympathetically. “Do they do this to you often?”
Ethan shrugged, wincing. “More than enough. They’re scared of me.” A bitter laugh followed this statement and his eyes hardened.
“Have you been here long?” Skye picked up the book she had dropped and ran her fingers over the cover.
“Too long. Six months nearly, I think…”
“Well.” Skye attempted to make her smile more cheerful. “Let me see what I can do to help. I have an hour to be here. Can’t we make you more comfortable?” She glanced around the bare little cell, noting the cot in the corner. There really wasn’t much else in the way of furniture. But she couldn’t leave him kneeling here on the concrete.
“If you turn me loose, they’ll never let you back in here again.”
But Skye ignored his protests as she struggled to free his ankles.
“Nonsense. There is no way you could enjoy a story all cramped up like this. I’ll have it out with the guards about this, it’s absolutely inhumane, the way they’re treating you.” She had left his arms bound, hoping by this to compromise with the guards. Helping him to his feet, she guided him as he stumbled to the cot. He sank onto it in relief, falling back against the wall and closing his eyes.
“Please…” Skye murmured, reaching out to brush her fingers against his arm. “Tell me how I can help.”
“Just… just stay with me a while…” he whispered. She sat beside him on the narrow cot and for a moment, his body stiffened. Slowly, little by little, the starch went out of him and at last he slumped against her, his head falling limply against her shoulder. Somehow, impossibly, in spite of all he had been through… he was trusting her. Perhaps a gentle touch was all he needed.
"Are you paying attention, whumpee?" Whumper snapped their fingers in front of their captive's face. "I'd hate to have to repeat myself."
Whumpee nodded, resisting the urge to roll their eyes. Being kidnapped was bad enough; they could deal without the theatrics.
"As I was saying," Whumper continued. "Every noise you make, I add another round of restraints. Please, feel free to see if I'm bluffing."
Whumpee shifted in their seat as much as they could. A length of rope bound their wrists behind them to the chair, a bundle of cloth tied around their mouth gagging them. Still, they didn't make any noise. Why give their kidnapper the attention they so clearly wanted?
"So....you're planning on being uncooperative?" Whumper asked. Whumpee shrugged in response.
"Well that's just no fun," they replied, unstrapping a knife from their side. Without hesitation, they plunged it into Whumpee's thigh. A muffled scream forced itself out involuntarily as Whumper cheerfully grabbed a roll of duct tape.
"See?" They asked, wrapping a layer of tape around Whumpee's mouth and chin. "Isn't this so much more entertaining?"
They brushed a tear from Whumpee's face as they casually removed the knife, bringing on another gasp of pain. "Oh, dont worry. We're just getting started."
Whumpee cowered in the corner, arms shielding their face. Blood from their broken nose smeared the concrete in front of them. “I’m sorry,” they whimpered.
“No, you’re not,” Whumper growled, looming closer. They drove a steel-toed boot into Whumpee’s unprotected stomach. Whumpee gasped, doubling over, pressing back against the wall.
“Say it louder,” Whumper ordered, raising their fist.
"I'm sorry!" Whumpee cried, shaking. “Really! I swear I didn’t—”
“Quit playing dumb!” whumper snapped. “Give me a reason I should keep you alive, after what you did.”
“I… I…” Whumpee stammered, eyes wide with terror.
“I think you need to be taught a real lesson,” whumper mused. They turned to the two guards by the door. “Take them to the room.”
“No—no! Please… Please!” Whumpee pleaded. Their gaze darted around the room, searching for an escape as the two guards approached. “Don’t!”
“Shut them up,” Whumper said coldly.
One of the guards stepped up to Whumpee, kneeling so they were face to face. “Open your mouth.”
Whumpee stared back, frozen with fear.
The guard grabbed Whumpee’s shoulder and gripped it painfully tightly, pulling them forward. “In case you forgot,” the guard whispered, “I’m the one with the gun. Now open your mouth.”
Slowly, cautiously, whumpee obeyed, squeezing their eyes tightly shut. A dirty rag was shoved into their mouth. Whumpee gagged at the acrid taste, cringing as duct tape was fastened over their lips. The two guards dragged whumpee upright, positioning them in front of whumper.
“Such a shame, to ruin a face like yours,” whumper said sadly. They traced whumpee’s bruised chin with a delicate finger.
“Mfffffhh,” whumpee protested through their gag, flinching at the touch.
“Oh, be quiet,” whumper said. “Go ahead, take them,” they commanded, waving a hand. Whumper watched with a smirk as whumpee struggled against the two guards.
“Bring them over here. Let’s get a good look at them!”
Whumpee’s captors pulled them up and dragged them over in front of Whumper. The rope tying their wrists together pinched their skin, and they growled angrily through the gag between their teeth. As they’re dropped to their knees, Whumper grabbed their hair and pulled them up to lock eyes. The glare between them was intense, until Whumpee snarled and lunged toward Whumper. Whumper nearly lost their grip, but held fast and laughed loudly with his associates at Whumpee’s weak attempt.
“Looks like we’ve got a fighter here!” They grabbed Whumpee’s chin and held their head up. “How about we have some fun with this one?”
Villain getting rougher and rougher with his hero-turned-brainwashed-toy because he’s desperate to get a reaction. To see that old spark. Because he’s too proud to admit that maybe this isn’t what he really wanted.
idk there's just something so wonderful about a Whumpee who hears rescue nearby and mere seconds before they can shout, Whumper just stops them. either by gagging them, or threatening to kill whoever comes by, or something else. and the light of hope dims in their eyes.
They pushed the hero back against the wall until their cheek was digging into the concrete. The hero groaned and tried to fight back, but they were already aware that they were too tired to actually do anything.
Earlier, they had fallen onto their bad knee and truth be told, they were glad that the villain pressed themselves against them. It meant they didn't have to put their entire weight on their shaking legs.
Still. A little bit too humiliating.
"Oh, what a sore loser you are," the villain purred, lowering their voice and pressing their cheek against the hero's. It was as intimate as usual, however, this time the hero didn't have any energy to flirt back, nor any to fight back. The villain leaned back a little and there it was. A kiss on the back of the hero's neck. "You really sucked today."
"Yeah, I'm aware." The wall was cold against their skin and the hero felt tired enough to be nauseous. They tried to concentrate on the villain instead of the pain, after all, the villain didn't need to know about the horrible stinging in their entire body. The villain didn't need to know that they'd been on their feet for over 24 hours now.
"Hm. Don't worry. I feel merciful." The hero could feel the villain's lips on their skin again and this time, their opponent bit gently into their neck. The hero took in a shaky breath and froze, too overwhelmed to even register what was happening. They knew the villain was possessive, but this? This was definitely new.
"No kidnapping today?"
"No," the villain said. Their hands travelled down the hero's body, almost as if they were searching for weapons. "No kidnapping today."
Their hands stopped on the hero's hips and suddenly, they realised what the villain was after. They grabbed the hero's handcuffs and put them around the hero's wrists with no hesitation.
"Hey-"
The villain pressed them against the wall again, their lips brushing the hero's ear.
"Did you think I wouldn't notice? That's almost an insult, no?" they asked. Their fingertips brushed the hero's palms gently. "Or perhaps, you didn't want me to notice? In which case I am even more offended."
"I don't think it would have made a difference."
"Probably not," the villain agreed. "A fight where you don't go all out isn't fun, though."
The villain let out something close to a frustrated sigh.
"Your knee again, I presume?"
"Yeah," the hero said.
"You're still doing that physical therapy thing?"
"Nah, I quit after two weeks. It was ridiculous," the hero admitted. The villain turned them around, touched their jaw and raised their head, forcing them to look up at them.
Their gaze was horribly intimidating.
"I...I could make another appointment," the hero suggested. "Once a week, maybe?"
"Three times a week."
"Maybe two?"
"Three times a week," the villain repeated and the hero understood. They nodded and their heart in their chest was drumming relentlessly.
"Alright, sweetie," the villain said. The hero could only yelp as the villain grabbed them and threw them onto their shoulder. The villain had never carried them before. At least of all over their shoulder and handcuffed.
"Are you crazy?" the hero hissed.
"In front of which police station would you like me to toss you?"
Amateur Female Hero x Male Villain Doctor (pt. 2)
Doctor Villain has been running tests on her for hours.
She's rigged up to a machine that beeps in time with her heart and displays her vitals on a side screen. Her wrists are still clamped down, but at her sides, so she doesn't quite feel like a trussed up lab rat.
Her hospital smock is much more comfortable than her suit would have been. When did he ask her to change into it? Was it at the start? Or just a few hours ago?
Hero can't even remember if he brought her through the green door today or yesterday. She has no concept of time because there are no windows in this place and no clocks hang beyond the green door.
He's been humming the same 90's pop song for half that time, only interrupting the chorus to remark on where he's inserting the next needle, or reading back her vital signs.
"What are all these tests for?" she asks finally, unsure if he'll even answer truthfully.
"Hm? Oh, making sure you're stable. Status quo, if you will," he says. "And monitoring what status quo even looks in that hot mess of a blood type you have."
He adjusts a dial under the screen. The image shifts to show an infrared scan of her body. Bright orange fills her body outline, but some spots show a deeper red.
She shifts as far as she can in her bed to look. "What's the dark red?"
"Pockets of stronger body heat. There's always some irregularities in the body heat, but yours are particularly uneven. And large. I think," he turns her one of her wrists under the straps, "it may have something to do with your sporadic powers."
He spreads open her palm, testing her pulse. "That's strange...your hands are cold. Conceringly cold, even."
"They've always been cold," she says, watching him work. When he looks up questioningly, she adds, "even before my powers started showing up, I mean. Doctors couldn't figure it out. I guess that's when I knew I was meant to be a supe."
"Or anemic," he remarks, returning to the computer. "But any problem goes away with enough money, doesn't it?"
"You think I'm rich?"
He grins devilishly at her from his mobile desk, "No, I think your family is rich. You're not getting this kind of kid-glove treatment at your age unless mummy or daddy are paying those bills."
Hero rolls her eyes. So what, he guessed that correctly. But he doesn't know who her family really is. And yes, she might be naive, but she's not stupid. Yet.
"Okay, and so what?" she says, shrugging off the accusation.
He gasps in mock intrigue, "A trust fund baby. How well do I know that type."
"Fine, whatever. Everybody says trust fund kids are assholes, anyway, right?"
"Well, I'd agree with that. But then, I'd have to be an asshole."
Confused, she meets his eyes. The ghost of a wink answers her and his smile turns genuine. Something flutters in her stomach but she doesn't hold eye-contact long enough for the feeling to grow into a mistake. This ordeal is staring to annoy her.
"Look, that medicine is just to wake up my dormant gene. I have powers, okay? They're just--"
"Show me, then, Starflower." Tired, she turns away from him, but he moves his chair closer to the bed. "No, no, that's not to say you're lying. I want you to show me what you can do."
She won't look at him until she feels his hand on hers again.
"Not until you unstrap me." She hears him sigh, but whips her head towards him before he can speak. "I'm not a psycho, Doctor. I'm not a fucking lab rat, either. I've done everything you asked. I'm already gonna be chewed out by Superhero for getting kidnapped on my very first solo mission!
She can't even bring herself to say it was a stupid, routine patrol. She hates herself enough as it is.
"All I'm asking for is just the tiniest shred of humanity if you could just--" she has to get a grip. She can't cry. Not in front of a villain. Inhaling deeply, she says calmly, "If you're gonna make me your circus monkey, at least take off the leash so I can dance."
An odd look passes over his face. Confusion, denial, rebuttal, even sadness?
"That's an interesting choice of words..." he says finally.
Hero frowns. What does he mean by that? Before she can ask, he presses a button under the gurney and both straps release her wrists.
"Go wild," he says, sitting back in his seat.
Gingerly, Hero sits up in her bed. It feels strange to use her powers without her suit on. Feels more like she's a test sample under a microscope. But it's just them, just Doctor. She doesn't have to do it for long.
Closing her eyes, Hero spreads her fingers.
"I can do mini explosions," tiny bursts crackle from her palms. He rolls closer, leaning forward. "I can make a sparkler effect, too. It's really good for distraction--" she flares them in his face. With a shout, he stumbles out of his chair, covering his eyes, "before I use my final power!"
She shoots another jab of ice.
"Fuck!" he yells and she sees red staining his white coat at the shoulder.
"Dammit, not again--" she forces her focus and shoots volts from her fingers.
The eletricity catches him square in the chest. Villain writhes on the floor, but she hears him shouting a jumble of words she can't understand.
That's her cue to leave. Now.
Hero runs to the door, cranking the wheel. She barely manages to get the door open when a heavy blow strikes her to the ground.
"Wait--" Villain reaches for the door, then he freezes.
Someone is lurking in the doorway, stood over the unconscious Hero. "So glad you had everything under control, Doctor."
Villain rubs his wounded shoulder, laughing guiltily. "Hey, Supervillain."
need a defiant whumpee who just absolutely Refuses to break
Whumpee who needs to be constantly gagged bc they Will try to bite and spit on whumper.
Whumpee who, even in the thores of absolute pain, is glaring daggers at their whumper. Eyes glowing from all the unspilled tears and wrath
Whumpee who snarls back and doesn't follow commands uncaring of the extra pain that will follow
Whumpee who, even if they stop physically trying to fight back, still refuses to break. They can scream and cry from pain but they will Not let fear replace their anger.
Of course its not about "whether a character would break down" but "what would need to happen for them to break down".
Defiant whumpee who doesn't fight back as passionately over time. Who stops biting because they hate how the gag feels. Who looks away instead of keeping eye contact with the whumper.
Defiant whumpee who is still so so angry, but now it's also directed at themself for giving in.
Wrong place wrong time where Whumpee gets home from vacation early and gets walks into a home invasion or they visit their friend just to walk in on them getting beaten up ....in any case whumpee is at Whumpers mercy now who wanted no witness to their crime
"They loved me! They punished me because they loved me! They did all that because they believed I could change for the better, that I wasn't a lost cause!"
Whumpee running through the woods as a giant monster chases after them. Whumper finding a cute creature in their territory and wishing to keep them as their little pet.
