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Thoughts on villain + right hand whumpers? 👀 or multiple whumpers in general?
I feel that, much like with multiple whumpees, having multiple whumpers can definitely increase interest in a story, for me at least.
However, one of the big things for that is when not all the whumpers are equal. Maybe one of them is more of a "forced to hurt" type of whumper or one of them thought it would be a quick thing and don't know how to respond when their buddies decide to keep the whumpee(s) around for a little longer.
Additionally, no two whumpers are going to have exactly the same style of whumping. Maybe this one is just purely sadistic and likes to hear the whumpee(s) scream, the begging won't do anything except make them enjoy it more. Maybe that one is colder and more cruel and does not appreciate their whumpee(s) making noise while being whumped.
Creating tensions between your whumpers can really amplify a whump story from my perspective (another reason why I'm so excited for The Kind Commander) because they offer a new layer of complexity to the story.
Haha, sorry this got kind of long.
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em-writes-stuff · 1 year
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whumpcember day 18
@whumpcember
prompt: betrayal
characters: henchman, villain, hero
warnings: stabbing, blood, character death
150 words
---
“I’m sorry, Villain,” Hunchman says, towering over him. “I have to.”
Villain shakes his head, “No you don’t.” 
The dagger plunges into Villain’s chest and his mouth falls open. His voice fails him when he cries out, falling forward as Henchman rips the blade from Villain’s heart. 
Someone steps out from the shadows and quietly applauds Henchman, “You did good.”
Henchman lets the dagger clatter to the ground and turns around, smiling gently when they see Hero. “He was a bad guy.” they say, then a moment later, “Right?” 
Hero sighs and nods, “He was one of the worst. Let’s get you out of here, yeah?” 
Henchman nods and lets Hero take their arm and lead them away from the growing pool of blood. They ignore the way her eyes linger on the shining blade with an evil glint. 
Villain wasn’t going to win anyway, this was the best outcome. 
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lumpofwhump · 2 years
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Cold Comfort
Content: Lab whump, carewhumperee, reluctant whumper, reluctant caretaker, henchman whumper, cold whump, comfort… sort of.
(Continued from this post)
Your subject needs to start giving us more, the Director had told Barclay. Do whatever it takes to make that happen.
Easier said than done, the young Lead Technician thought as he headed for Varin’s cell. These days, the process of extracting the valuable substance from the subject’s frail body hadn’t gotten him much more than a trickle. The only thing it accomplished was nearly killing Varin, leaving him it emaciated, its skin ghostly pale.
Still, saying that wouldn’t have ended well for Barclay. He was already on thin ice with the Director.
He opened the door to the cell with a loud clang, causing Varin to startle awake with a gasp. But in its eyes, Barclay could see something like… was that relief?
“Don’t look so excited,” he told it curtly. “Today’s not going to be fun for either of us.”
As he approached, though, he saw that Varin’s day hadn’t been going well to begin with. It was sopping wet and shivering uncontrollably.
Really…?!
He’d check who was on cleaning duty last night. It looked like they needed a reminder that they would be easier to replace than this subject.
“Hang on,” he told it, shaking his head with annoyance as he closed the door and headed for the nearest supply closet.
Despite his earlier warning, the subject’s face lit all the way up when he came back with a couple towels and a fresh gown.
“Here,” Barclay said, dumping the items on the floor between them.
Varin made no move to take them though, still huddled in on itself for warmth and staring up at Barclay with wide, pleading eyes. “C-can you…” it ventured shakily. “Please, I… I’m so cold.”
The towel’s right there, dumbass, now get moving, Barclay almost snapped. He stopped himself, though, if only barely. The more stressed the subject was, the harder it was going to be to get anything from it.
“Alright,” he grumbled, picking up the towels and approaching Varin. He wrapped one of them around its thin body, and then set to drying off its face. The hosing-off had unsurprisingly done absolutely nothing about the numerous mats and tangles in Varin’s hair, nor about its smell. He worked quickly and efficiently, trying to get this over with as soon as possible.
Even so, Varin leaned into his touch.
He stopped short. He wasn’t supposed to allow this sort of thing. Touch was supposed to be on staff’s terms alone. The policy for dealing with an overly affectionate subject was to physically discipline it and then leave it in isolation for at least 48 hours.
But he needed something to show for himself today. He’d barely survived the last time he’d disappointed the Director.
“Just, don’t get used to this,” he finally conceded.
Varin nodded, but still its eyes shone with gratitude as it stared up at him, daring to lean in closer against him.
Barclay went rigid and broke off eye contact as he finished drying it off and reluctantly helped it change into the fresh gown. He pulled away before it could try to cling to him again, turning away to open his bag of medical equipment.
“Let’s get this over with.”
I needed to finally write something for Barclay, as the guy has been taking up an inordinate amount of brainspace for the past two months.
Varin and the Director, meanwhile, are @skinofafish’s characters.
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letitbehurt · 3 months
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Whumper grabbing Whumpee’s chin or yanking on a fistful of hair, forcing them to look.
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celestiallights515 · 3 months
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Snippet 1.3
Previous
"Do you have ay idea how much of a threat hero truly is? How badly you could've been hurt?"
Henchman hesitated once again, but their wince of pain when Villain held their face and drew their eyes to theirs was enough of an answer to soften Villain's gaze. They heaved a sigh, gently releasing Henchman's face.
"What did Medic say--Never mind. i'll go speak with them myself. Don't move."
henchman followed orders, spending their remaining time pondering Villain's actions. The softness of their grip and the tone of their voice, most strangely of all the soft concern with which Villain watched their face. They'd even brought them directly to the infirmary as opposed to their office, and as it turns out had asked Medic not to let them leave until their injuries were documented and treated.
Time managed to pass agonizingly slow and all too fast at the same time, before Henchman heard Villain's quick footsteps beating a staccato rhythm at the door.
...
Henchman's face was pale and laced with an all too familiar taste of fear. Despite the ease of their actions and coolness of their voice (practically a confession, by the way) their intentions hadn't gotten through Henchman's head.
Unfortunate, but a conversation for another time, one much more private and much more comfortable for Henchman.
"It seems you have a much better idea of the threat hero poses now than I thought you did. Fortunately for you, I have some errands I have to run, so here's what's going to happen,"
Villain's hands are twitching at their sides already, so they fold them behind their back to keep the movements from henchman. Villain's sure they noticed, but the wariness on their face keeps them from asking questions. They wouldn't want to know anyway.
"I'm going to take you back to the infirmary, where you will be treated further. I've already spoken with them about the procedure I expect them to follow, so know that I expect you to cooperate with them."
Villain had spoken to Right Hand while Henchman was in the infirmary, ironing out the next steps: Hero's death and Henchman's recover at the top of the list.
They’d wanted to stop, to look at each of Henchman’s injuries individually and see to it that each had been treated and dressed. They wanted to ask if Henchman was in any pain, if they were scared of Villain or remembering their fight with Hero, what could have possibly possessed them to get into a fight with them in the first place.
They were exhausted. They transported Henchman back to the infirmary, giving Medic one sharp look to remind them of their prior conversation. Henchman was to receive treatment for every cut and bruise regardless of if Medic thought it necessary or not.
Then Villain left, if nothing else then to make sure they didn’t do something stupid.make sure they didn’t say something they shouldn’t. It was difficult enough to keep reminding themselves that taking care Henchman’s injuries would only serve to confuse and worry them further. They didn’t need more on their plate.
But how they wish they could.
Next
Short one today, next part hopefully tomorrow or the next day. Thank you all so so so much for the notes and kind words!!
Tagging: @nameless-beanie @crow-with-a-typewriter
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shywhumpauthor · 1 year
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A Whumpee who is so touch starved that they will do literally anything for just a ghost of contact but who also hates being touched for whatever trauma reason, so they’re stuck in this hellish limbo between their desire to just be held by someone and the awful prickling feeling they get whenever someone so much as brushes against them.
Bonus points if their master/caretaker/teammates/whomever within the context has no problem being affectionate but they just won’t do anything unless they are literally asked or something of that sort.
This opens up a lot of potential for some really soft emotional scenes
(prompt 12)
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hadesstan · 11 months
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June of Doom Day 13
"Say something"
| Rescue | Broken Promise | Weak |
Cw: The tags above, implied beating, betrayal
Sorry for formatting I'm writing on mobile. I'm also close to death with this cold so i apologise for the state of this.
...
Sidekick lay, broken and bloodied, in the middle of the street.
Villain had spotted them, about ten minutes ago, and battled off Other Villain, and Henchman had arrived soon after. They crouched next to Sidekick, rolling them onto their back to reveal the myriad of bruises.
"Who did this," Henchman growled.
"Other Villain," Villain told them, looking down at Sidekick in pity. "From what I've heard, Hero sold them out."
Sidekick groaned, their eyes fluttering as they fought to stay awake.
"Sidekick? Sidekick it's me, Henchman."
"They promised," they muttered, "they promised they wouldn't."
"Sidekick, what are you talking about? Come on we have to get you out of here."
Henchman, with some help from Villain, hoisted Sidekick to their feet, arm around them, holding them up.
"Hero promised," there were tears in their eyes, "they promised they wouldn't sell me out."
Henchman's grip turned tighter in anger as they led Sidekick away, towards their car.
"Hero will pay, Sidekick, I promise."
Sidekick just slumped against them and Villain helped carry them to the car and buckle them into the back seat.
"Hero will pay," Henchman repeated, and Villain nodded.
"This went too far."
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whumperofworlds · 11 months
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"Ow! Wh-what are you doing?! Let me go!"
Caretaker's heart nearly stopped at the voice that was coming from the recording. Their eyes grow wide as a soft gasp escaped their throat.
Whumpee.
"Shut it," Whumper's voice spoke. Caretaker could hear shuffling and struggling, likely from Whumpee's end. "You're just our little hostage against Caretaker. Once they show up trying to save you, they're in for a surprise!"
"B-but why?! What did Caretaker ever do to you?!" Whumpee asked, grunting.
"I said shut it!" Whumper growled. "They had ruined my life, so they're getting what's coming! And I'll start by hurting you..."
"Pl-please!" Whumpee begged, as Caretaker could hear more struggling. "Don't hurt Caretaker! Leave them alone, please!"
A soft thump resonated from the recording device, and Whumpee let out a cry of pain.
"Shut the hell up," Henchman spoke next. "Now be a good little captive and stay still while we tie you up nice and tight!"
Whumpee whimpered, as their struggling began to cease. The last thing Whumpee whispered before the recording ended was:
"Caretaker... please don't come for me..."
Once the recording ended, Caretaker gritted their teeth in anger. Their eyes narrowed, as they gripped the arms of their chair. How dare Whumper took Whumpee. How dare they hurt them.
Without another thought, they rushed out, weapons ready. They had to save Whumpee, even if they die trying.
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iwritewhump · 7 months
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"take me with you" + stumbling + too weak to move
day 21 of @whumptember
692 words
warnings: captive whumpee, signs of abuse, neglected whumpee
---
Hero’s house is cold and dark, keeping Villain on edge as he sneaks down the basement hallway. He pushes open a door and peeks past the door frame. 
Hero sleeps soundly in her bed, blanket drawn up to her chin and a calm expression on her face. Villain rolls his eyes and closes the door again, making sure he doesn’t make a sound. 
He moves down the hallway and pushes open another door, frowning when the light from the moon reflects off a toilet. He sighs and starts to close the door again, but stops when he sees a thick chain across the floor. 
Cautiously, he opens the door enough to walk into the room. He closes the door behind him and turns his flashlight on, shining it through his fingers to dim the light as much as he can. Following the chain, he looks behind the shower curtain and nearly gags. 
Curled up in a small ball, Henchman stares up at him. The chain is latched to a cuff on her ankle and the skin is rubbed raw. She whimpers and tries to curl more into herself, the chain rattling noisily against the marble tile. 
Villain shakes his head and squats down in front of her, “I’m not gonna hurt you, but you need to stop moving. You’ll wake Hero up.” 
“No, no, no,” she murmurs, staring blankly at him. “I didn’t know, you have to-you have to trust me. I didn’t know.” 
He reaches out to wipe the tears from her face, but stops when she tenses and closes her eyes, “Know what?” he asks gently, “What didn’t you know?” 
She doesn’t answer. 
He takes a deep breath and shakes his head to clear it, then looks at his watch. “Shit,” he mutters. He stands up and looks back at Henchman, eyes lingering on the bruises littering her skin. “I’m running out of time.�� 
“No,” she begs, reaching out to him, “Take me with you.” 
“I will, I just…have to get something first, ok? I’ll be right back. Don’t make a sound, Hero needs to stay sleeping.” he whispers. 
He turns the flashlight off and opens the door again, leaving it open enough so he doesn't have to turn the handle to get back in. 
The next room is locked, Villain curses and kneels in front of the handle and picks the lock as quickly and quietly as he knows how, just loud enough to make it take twice as long with him stopping after every click and scratch. 
Suddenly, the lock clicks open and Villain coaxes the door open, wincing as it creaks. Once it’s open enough for Villain to slip past, he walks into the room and turns on the computer and plugs the flash drive in. After an absurdly long thirty seconds, the computer beeps and Villain pockets the flash drive. 
He leaves the room and pushes back into the bathroom, barely waiting for Henchman to open her eyes again before grabbing her ankle and finding the lock. She winces and tries to pull her leg back, but even with the loose grip he has on her, she’s too weak. He swiftly picks the lock and lets the cuff clatter onto the marble before taking Henchman’s arm and helping her stand. 
She falls, hands gripping Villain’s shirt to keep standing. He mutters quietly and wraps an arm around her waist, ignoring her grunt of pain when he presses his hand into a scab. Her cheeks puff out from her trying to keep quiet and she buckles over in pain. 
“I…I don’t think I can walk,” she whispers. 
Without a word, Villain puts his other arm behind her knees and lifts her up. He runs out of the bathroom, not worrying about the noise. Up the stairs and out the front door before Hero’s nightside lamp turns on, Villain huffs with effort to put Henchman in the car without jostling her anymore than he already has. She stays quiet, only making a noise when he’s too rough. 
He mutters apologies and closes the door, then jumps into the driver seat and speeds away just as Hero’s door opens.
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kaiwewi · 1 year
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Guilty Conscience #11
[Masterlist: Renegade Rescue Squad] [Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4] [Part 5] [Part 6] [Part 7] [Part 8] [Part 9] [Part 10]
Synopsis: Henchman and Harper take care of Villain and the little hero. The group finally leaves Other Villain's lair.
tw: blood
“Hey there, kiddo,” Henchman cooed, deep voice as soft as he could make it, and crouched down to inspect the hero’s injured leg. “Aw, you poor baby, that must be painful. Mind if I take a closer look? I promise I’ll be extra careful.”
The little hero shot Henchman their darkest scowl yet – how dare anyone have the audacity to call them a ‘baby’? – and straightened their back.
“Don’t patronise me.” Despite their endearing stubbornness, the expression on their face strongly suggested they’d rather curl up in a corner and have a good cry than pick this fight. “I’m fine. Other Villain hardly did anything. I’ve had worse.”
What a gruesome thought. Even among Supers – a demographic notorious for getting involved with violent crime – no one this young (or anyone really) should ever see the inside of Other Villain’s torture dungeon, receive a beating, then witness a murder, and still be able to confidently declare they’d been through worse.
And yet, that gritty tenacity the hero had shown…
Harper tsked. “Kid’s got a point. They aren’t bleeding too bad” – her sharp gaze fixed on him, on the stain on his shirt – “and neither are you. So? That Other Villain’s blood? Where is that maladjusted waste of organic matter and breathable air?”
The little hero huffed a surprised laugh.
He merely cringed.
Other Villain’s absence had to come up sooner or later. Harper noticed such things. Whether it was an addition or omission of subtle details in a report, something small and half-hidden in the periphery of her vision, or a tactical bypassing of conversation topics – somehow, she knew. It was uncanny.
That intuition was part of what made her an asset. His entire operation wouldn’t have made it far without her. For what was a villainous ambulance service without its unrivalled getaway driver, and Harper was the best. (He was convinced she’d still be the best if her intuition were the only ace up her sleeve.)
He adored her.
He’d still rather not address the issue that was Other Villain… but he pointed at the door to the stairwell anyway; and of course, when Harper went looking, Henchman followed suit.
Half of him wanted to accompany them. The other half would have loved to make a run for it.
His trembling legs refused to budge either way, so he sat down. He couldn’t stand any longer, his head was swimming and his throat was locked so tight he couldn’t get a proper breath down his airways and Henchman would never look at him the same again because he was a fucking murderer now and he was so cold without his jacket and why was he spiralling now when he should be over this already and tears were pooling in his eyes again and—
The hero gave him a gentle nudge. “Hey, your friend’s coming back.”
He looked up, dazed, to find Henchman walking over, casually unzipping and shrugging off his fleece-lined, between-seasons hoodie jacket. Without a word about murders or death or Other Villain, Henchman kneeled down in front of him, helped him out of his blood-soaked shirt, and smiled.
“Hey love, it’s all right. We can talk about this whenever you’re ready. Just breath, slow and steady. You’re okay. I’ve got you.”
The thick, plushy fabric of Henchman’s jacket (about three sizes too big for him) settled warm and heavy around his bare shoulders, wrapping him up in a comforting bubble of residual body heat and the smells of home: Bax’s beloved incense sticks, the eco-friendly laundry detergent Thief insisted they should all use, the smoke of Doc’s favourite brand of cigarettes, Henchman’s perfume with its smoky vanilla note, and the faintest whiff of sweat.
He fiddled his arms through the sleeves and allowed Henchman to zip up the jacket for him. Then he buried his face in the collar and inhaled deeply. The scent washed over him like the promise of forgiveness. For the first time in hours, he didn’t smell blood.
Henchman shrugged apologetically. “Been wearing that for a few days. Hope it’s not too smelly...”
“No,” he mumbled, “I like it. Thanks.”
The last remnants of his composure slipped from his grasp then, and once the tears had started falling, they kept coming.
Henchman scooted closer and put an arm around him. His head came to rest against Henchman’s shoulder and Henchman’s free hand ruffled his hair, affectionate and protective. The two of them remained in that position until he managed to calm down and was no longer sobbing and babbling half-coherent explanations and apologies.
He didn’t give a damn what Harper would think. And he almost didn’t care that the hero had witnessed half of his meltdown, until Harper had returned and had had the good sense to fetch the wheelchair from the van and cart the kid away, all the while muttering something about this not being what she’d signed up for when she’d joined the crew.
But when he and Henchman finally caught up with Harper and the hero, she was in the middle of entertaining the kid, flaunting her abilities for them by giving the van an illusionary makeover.
The plain white of the van’s exterior morphed into a complex design: navy blue swirling like smoke against a background of anthracite, adorned with ivy tendrils the colour of rose gold, softly bobbing as if stirred by a breeze. As he opened the sliding door, the ivy twined and curled to adjust its pattern around the empty space.
The hero watched the show, mesmerized. After receiving a large glass of juice and a few painkillers, their initial reluctance had begun to fade and was gradually replaced by a livelier attitude. They then spent the better half of the drive back to base asking questions: What was that button for? Why where there so many valves? Where were the cables coming from? Did the self-built ambulance have all the equipment a normal ambulance had? How many people had the team treated? Did they have doctors and a clinic for their patients?
Under the guise of showing the hero the equipment, he and Henchman even got to check the hero’s pulse, blood pressure, blood oxygen and blood sugar levels, and breathing. Afterwards, he allowed the kid to perform the same examinations on him.
“Your car is so cool,” the hero said. They’d taken off his mask.
With their face finally freed from blood and their scratches and abrasions sanitised and bandaged, that small smile tugging on the hero’s lips looked less like a nervous coping mechanism and more like the tentative beginnings of genuine optimism.
———
taglist: @d-cs @whumpycries
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“are you...scared of me, henchman?” hero asks.
henchman tenses. “the last time i saw villain, they were coming to see you. its been weeks and i haven’t heard from them.”
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redd956 · 2 years
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Prompt 1
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.
Supervillain takes pride in watching the fear bleach their faces, when they coo, “You two put up a far weaker fight than villain and hero. I’m sure you’ll be just as easy to break though...”
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lumpofwhump · 2 years
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Summer of Whump, Day 3: Façade
Content warning: Head injury; passing mention of child sexual abuse and domestic violence.
Summary: A hero's sidekick sets out to rescue his villainous counterpart from a villain who's made a deal with a demon. (Part 1/3)
--
"I'm off to deal with Villain," Hero called out. "Hold down the fort while I'm gone, would you?"
Sidekick jerked to attention. "That guy again?! Hang on, I'm coming with."
Hero looked back at him, her eyebrows raised. "I didn't realize you had such strong feelings about him."
Sidekick flushed. "I-it's not like that! The guy's a creep, dragging that girl around with him to do his dirty work for him. What is she, like, 16?!"
"Oh, you mean Henchwoman? So that's what this is about," Hero said with a mischievous little smile, causing Sidekick to redden further. Her face quickly took on a more serious expression. "Seriously, though, be careful. Just like you, she's made her own choices."
"Look, just because Supervillain burned you, it doesn't mean everyone's like that," Sidekick countered, folding his arms. "So can I come or not?"
Hero rolled her eyes and beckoned him toward the door. "Fine, whatever. Just don't be surprised if it's some child molester or wifebeater you're whisking off to safety instead of Henchwoman. If nothing else, Villain's got some warped sense of justice in who he goes after."
--
The blood of a thousand unwilling victims. The fear of an entire people. The corruption of one innocent soul. Those were the terms of Villain's compact with the Demon.
If he held up his end of the bargain, he'd gain the power to make everything right in the world. Erase all suffering, past, present and future. With that sort of power, he told himself, he could even fix all the damage he'd end up causing along the way.
But if he failed, or gave up at this point…
He swallowed, his hands shaking as he slid on his gloves.
At least he'd made some headway on the fear part of the agreement so far. And once he got around to the bloodshed, he figured the soul corruption piece would take care of itself. Assuming someone who could make a deal like this could ever be called innocent in the first place.
"You really don't have to go with me," he reminded - almost pleaded with - Henchwoman as she stood waiting for him at the door. If this was the night where he actually, finally managed to kill someone, he didn't want her to be there to see it. From what little she'd told him about her life before he'd found her, she'd seen more than enough for someone her age.
"Sure I do," she insisted cheerily. "Someone's gotta be the distraction, right?"
He nodded with a weak smile. He should've never involved her in this. "Only a distraction, though. I'll grab Corporate Executive and bring her back to the base while you take the long route, alright?"
She nodded, her expression way too bright for someone thinking she was about to help with a high-profile kidnapping.
If everything went as planned, though, there'd be no captive to tie up in the basement of Villain's lair this time.
--
Things were not going as planned, Sidekick thought with dismay. As it turned out, Villain's latest target was none other than Corporate Executive Supervillain, so Hero was hardly at her best tonight.
The only good news was that Villain was also caught off-guard by his would-be victim. Until Hero had stepped in to stop her ex from leveling a few city blocks, Villain had been getting his ass handed to him. He staggered away dizzily through the debris toward a back alley, blood streaming down face from a large gash on his forehead.
Sidekick wasn't about to let him go that easily, though. Supervillain might have had death squads kill labor leaders in countries that produced her company's products, drained the life force of an entire alien race to use as an energy source, and broken up with his boss by text message, but she was still a person, dammit. Besides, if he took down Villain, he might finally be able to save --
Henchwoman.
Sidekick skidded to a stop before he crashed into the costumed young woman who'd swooped down and jumped off her hoverscooter between him and Villain.
"VILLIAN!" she shouted in a high, panicked voice as Villain collapsed against a wall. "Sir, are you alright? Please, sir, get up!"
He made her call him sir?!
Sidekick clenched his fists in rage, but forced himself to relax, giving her what he hoped was an easygoing smile. "Hey. Don't… you don't have to worry about him anymore, okay? You're safe now, I've got this."
Henchwoman's face clouded over with doubt. Fear, even, as she looked to the ground. Finally, she got up, a glowing smile on her face. Before Sidekick knew what was happening, he was in her arms, with her head resting against his chest. He could hardly believe it. He could hardly breathe.
"Thank you," she whispered.
Then she drove a chunk of concrete hard into the back of his head.
As he collapsed into unconsciousness, she met his stunned expression with a gentle smile. The one he'd always hoped she'd look his way with when he finally rescued her.
--
Next
@summer-of-whump
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em-writes-stuff · 1 year
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salve
@whumpril day 6
medic, villain, henchman, hero
360 words
warnings: branding, burns, implied future violence
---
The smell of burnt flesh hangs in the air, Hero leaves the room, slamming and locking the door behind him. Villain’s trapped in the room with it, it suffocates her and she thinks she might die from it.
Henchman rolls onto his side, his arm cradled against his chest. He stifles a whimper and breathes sharply in and out, keeping the tears in his eyes from falling.
Villain watches him try to convince himself that it’s not as big of a deal as they both know it is, watches him shake it off like Hero didn’t just brand him, like he’ll be able to ignore this like any other scar. They both know it’s not. 
The door unlocks and opens and Medic scurries in the room with them. It coughs and pulls its shirt over its nose and mouth, “I told him to open a window.” it mutters to itself. “He never listens to me.” 
Villain says a silent thank you and watches the light filter into the room. Medic turns with its hands on its hips and frowns, “Just Henchman?” 
Villain nods, “He’s not going to keep me alive for much longer, what would be the point?” 
“I guess,” Medic shrugs. 
It drops a small bag onto the ground next to Henchman and unzips it. Rifling through the bag, Medic keeps an eye on Henchman until it finds what it’s looking for, “Here we go,” it says quietly. “Stay still. This is going to sting going on but it’ll keep infection away.” 
Before Henchman can pull his arm away, Medic squeezes the tube and a huge glob comes out on Henchman’s arm. It holds his wrist tightly and spreads the salve around the burn, making sure that it covers the whole brand. 
It stands up and turns to Villain, “You’ll need to reapply it every few hours and keep the dirt out of it. He should get as much rest as he can manage so it heals faster. Hero wants it to look nice.” 
Villain takes the salve from it and tucks it into her sleeve, she nods and Medic leaves the room, leaving the door unlocked behind it.
---
part two?
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lili-loves-whump · 1 year
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o1 & o5- hero x begrudgingly worried villain (nemesis style) ?? if you can
second o5 request istggggg
lili-loves-whump presents:
Frozen Fingies
shoutout to my friend Ava for choosing the name lmao
Hero had been in this situation before. Obviously. But their immunity wasn't completely developed yet, and the cold was beginning to set their bones on fire. They huffed out a cold breath and gritted their chattering teeth.
At first, they could walk, talk, interact, laugh, you name it. Apart from a quiver in their voice from trembling teeth, you wouldn't be able to tell the room's temperature was set to 3 degrees Celsius.
Superhero had promised that their immunity would set in within the hour. They'd been in the metal box for about three now, and they hadn't improved in what felt like a lifetime.
"S-Superhero?" Hero called, teeth vibrating. Their hands were shaking and jerking now too, each movement borderline painful. "What?" Superhero called, their voice echoing through the speakers sharply. Hero flinched slightly, drawing in a cold breath at the pain. "Can I come out now?"
Over the coms, Superhero sighed. "I don't know, Hero, can you?"
Hero burned with embarrassment and frustration, tucking their jerking muscles further underneath them. They hit the icy metal and made Hero squealed softly. Over the coms, Superhero said something, but Hero could barely hear it, they were too focused on trying to divert warmth from their core.
Suddenly, Superhero screamed, and something squelched, and the door to the room pulled open with a rush of warmth. Hero's eyes fluttered as they stood on shaky knees, clutching their elbows.
"Hero? I thought Henchman was in here." Villain. grumbled, shivering slightly. Hero rushed forward, knees jerking. Eventually they gave out, and Villain was forced to thrust forward and catch Hero before they hit their head.
"You're warm," Hero muttered, eyelashes fluttering. They spasmed under Villain's grip. "And you're not," Villain said, scooping them up carefully. "I guess Henchman can wait, let's go get hot chocolate."
Hero nodded softly. "That sounds nice."
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feel free to request some on the bingo, lovelies <33
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shywhumpauthor · 10 months
Text
Employee of the Month
Not sure what this is or what the point of it is. Just take the whump. No editing because no
Cw: torture, murder, graphic depictions of death/killing, interrogation, restraints, a lot of violence, mentioned non-con nudity (non-sexual), implied mass murder/killing, reluctant Whumper
Henchman reeled back as a fist slammed into the side of their jaw, snapping their head to the side and causing them to sway in their restraints.
By now, they had lost any hope of standing, left to hang by the thick metal shackles around their wrists that held their arms up, the cuffs biting into their skin hard enough to leave ugly bruised indents that wept droplets of crimson down their forearms.
They could barely keep their legs beneath them, much less try to bare weight on them. From the awkwardness of the height they were restrained at, they would only be able to stand really if they stood on the tips of their toes, which left them scuffling around, the muscles up their calves cramping as they tried to keep from rocking back and forth.
Blood dripped from a wound on their temple, leaking into their sight and tinting their vision with a stinging red that they quickly tried to blink away. Tears clung thick to their eyelashes and their cheeks, mingling with the blood smeared across their face from their broken nose and turning it to a watery pink that ran down to their neck and chest.
Breathing was becoming increasingly difficult as they let their head fall forwards, hoping that the motion would deter some of the blood from trickling down the back of their throat and suffocating them. Their lips were parted, each breath coming in as a wheeze. It felt like their lungs were full of something, thicker than water and warmer than it should feel. Each inhale was work, the breath scraping against their windpipe all the way to their lungs.
Breathing out was a bit easier, with each exhale a bit of red tinted saliva dribbled from their lips, the bottom which was split so badly by the right corner that they couldn’t close their mouth fully. It had been ripped open by their own teeth, a result of one of the first punches thrown against them, whatever plating beneath the Hero’s gloves turning what would be a bruise into a mauling of blood and fractured bones.
“Tell me,” Hero growled out, grabbing Henchman’s jaw with the same hand that had just struck them, wrenching their head towards them. Henchman could feel their heavy breath against their face, they hadn’t been pulling any punches. Somewhere distant in Henchman’s mind, they envied how Hero could draw in so much air with such ease, so little effort, while they were left to gasp and try to get the oxygen they so desperately needed around what felt like their collapsing windpipe.
Henchman had broken ribs before—it was almost guaranteed in their field, after all. It sucked, which was an understatement. It was miserable, but bearable.
This, this was beginning to border on unbearable. The pain was worse than anything they had ever felt, sharp piercings of pain drilling through their chest and spreading out through their torso. The pressure was awful, building and building against their lungs until everything lapsed into a blur of pain.
“Tell me what villain is planning.” Hero repeated, their voice sharper as their nails dug into Henchman’s face, scraping the skin when they ripped their hand away in frustration when they received no answer, letting Henchman’s head fall again before quickly slamming a knee into their gut.
“I don’t care how long it takes, this will go on until you fucking talk.”
And it went. On and on, but Henchman had already lost all track of time—consciousness was only a muddled depth of agony and exhaustion. It was a miracle, or a curse, that they hadn’t passed out, but through the haze Henchman was able to piece together enough thought to maybe come up with some sort of explanation. They hadn’t really noticed it, lost between the burn of the stun gun Hero had used and the sting of the fresh lashes across their back, but at some point they were sure they had been drugged. A small prick along the side of their neck, followed by a rush of awareness that hadn’t lasted long.
It was hours. Felt like days. There wasn’t a patch of skin anywhere on their body that wasn’t marred by some bruise or cut. At some point, Hero had tapped out, but they had been quickly replaced by some lower grade Agency member.
That was some sort of relief. While Hero’s aggression had been fueled by genuine hatred towards Villain and anyone associated with them such as Henchman was, Associate had no connection with them. Really, they seemed almost reluctant to take part. There was no emotion behind their actions, and every so often they would even pause for a moment to take a break, but some part of Henchman wished to think they were doing it to allow Henchman a moment to rest.
At one point, even, someone had lifted their head up, though Henchman wasn’t sure who. Their eyes had been so swollen with bruises, vision impaired with tears and blood, they couldn’t see much of anything. The touch hadn’t been rough, dare they say gentle even, carefully parting their lips to trickle a bit of water from a bottle down their throat.
“…Hero, we need to stop, they can’t-”
“I don’t care. You are not stopping until they talk.”
“But- Hero, I don’t think they’d be able to speak now anymore-”
“Keep. Going. That is an order, Associate.”
And so it kept. A bucket of cold water dumped over their body, exposed as all their clothes had been cut to shreds on the floor, showing where there was still space to inflict more pain. They weren’t cold for long, as Associate began to hold a lighter to the existing gashes.
“Hero, I don’t know what to do anymore. They’re not going to talk. They can’t. You need to cut them down, let them rest a bit-”
“You are in no position to be telling me what to do,” Hero snapped. “Get the hell back in there before you tor their fucking pl-”
The door flew inwards with a sharp kick, bouncing off the wall of the little conference room outside the interrogation chamber. A loud bang split the air, quickly followed by another, and both Hero and Associate were dead before their bodies fell, brain matter splattering across the one-way glass behind them that viewed in on the interrogation chamber.
Villain stepped forwards, a flicker of rage cutting across their indifferent composure as they saw past the gore.
They had a limited number of bullets, but to hell with that, they pulled back the hammer and shot at Hero again, the bullet splitting open their skull and ripping their jaw from them as it passed through the crown of their head.
And damn, if Villain didn’t have Henchman as a priority, they would have shot the bastard again. They would have used all their damn bullets, and then they’d rip Hero’s gun from its holster and shoot until they weren’t even recognizable as human.
They did not deserve the mercy of a quick death that Villain had given them, but it was too late to change that. Villain would come back, they settled, after Henchman was home and healing, and kill every damned person who had ever touched Henchman.
Villain shoved their gun into its holster, quickly stepping over the carnage to the door.
The closer they got to Henchman, the hotter their blood boiled.
They’d kill everyone in the whole fucking agency.
—————————————————
I still only want to hurt Noah. Like seriously, that’s the only thing I want to write rn. Ugh
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