#villain whump

[befuddled-calico-whump]

Imagine a spoiled royal, heir to the throne, part of a powerful bloodline that gives them "divine right to rule". They're raised to be cruel, and told their heritage puts them above everyone else.

And then one day, it's revealed before the entire court that it's all a lie. The royal was switched at birth with the child of a servant. The real heir has been serving in the palace all this time, unaware of their birthright. Maybe they're even someone the faux-royal had been particularly cruel to all their lives.

The ruling family is quick to push out the false heir---blood is more important to them than any illusion of family---and welcome the servant with open arms.

Maybe the false heir is banished from the kingdom they were raised to rule. Maybe they're imprisoned so the truth can never come out. Maybe they're made a servant, now at the beck and call of someone they'd thought beneath them.

Does the true heir take pity on them, or do they seek vengeance from years of abuse? Does the royal family have any regrets, or have they always been cold, only concerned with holding power? What do the servants and commoners do, now that the arrogant "heir" has lost all power and protection?

#today in 'very specific whump prompts' #i just like it when a character loses everything #especially if they're super arrogant/an asshole #and then everyone who they've hurt gets to make a choice! #whump #royal whumpee #villain whump #whumper turned whumpee #whumpee turned whumper #fantasy whump #i almost want to write this but i have too many sticks in the fire #whump prompt

[whump-in-the-closet]

Villain curled up in the alley, next to a dumpster. A half-opened bag of trash spilled out onto the ground. They toed aside a plastic bottle, watching it roll into the middle of the alley.

They watched a boot stop it from rolling any farther.

Villain drew back, instinctively covering their head with torn hands—still unhealed, still throbbing.

The wearer of the boots came closer, kicking aside the trash to grab Villain’s wrist.

“Please, please, you can’t—not again” Villain slipped back into begging as if it were a reflex. As if they had never been gone. As if the past two days of freedom had been nothing.

Supervillain hauled Villain to their feet. “Don’t worry. You’ve simply forgotten your training.” They tightened chains around Villain’s wrists and slapped their shoulder in an almost friendly way. “I’ll remind you.”

Almost friendly. Mostly terrifying.

#whump #whump writing #whumpblr #whump prompt #whump community #whump ideas #whump scenario #villain whumpee #villain whump #villain

[epiclamer]

This is the post you all have voted for… (i settled for smutty hurt x comfort since you guys were so close)

@save-the-villainous-cat happy two year anniversary baby <3

It wasn’t the end of the world, Villain had been injured in battle countless times before and it was never a problem. But, god, there was so much blood.

They weren’t a very optimistic person by nature, but things had never looked worse for them than at this precise moment. Stumbling blindly through friendly, neighbourhood complexes and past steadily blurring townhouses. Villain could practically feel their demise impending.

“Hey there, stranger~” The criminal gulped, eyes shooting around like a cornered animal looking for an escape. “You’re in pretty rough shape to be standing on two feet…”

Their eyes locked in on a figure—somewhere at the back of their mind they were flooded with a sensation of ease, though they couldn’t quite pinpoint why. They continued to stumble forwards and practically into the stranger’s arms anyways, for whatever reason it felt right.

“Easy— Easy there, Villain… just relax I’ve got you, I’ll take good care of you, huh?”

Warmth spread through the criminal’s mind at the sound of the other’s voice, then down into their muscles before seeping deep to their bones. They blinked and when they opened their eyes again they were laying in a tub, their feet resting at the tap where hot water poured down and into the bath.

For a moment they panicked, but a hand found its way to their shoulder and grounded them back to the present. They knew that hand, they knew that touch.

Hero.

“I’ve got you, baby~” They teased, grinning from ear to ear as they fiddled with the temperature to the water with their free hand.

It all came rushing back to the villain; the fight they had picked with their superior—on purpose—and whatever hope they had left dragging their feet to the hero’s house in a desperate attempt for attention survival.

Hero’s touch was warm where it laid by their collarbone, heating the skin to a feverish degree as it began stitching the villain back together. See, Hero’s powers only worked through touch (something the villain had learned a very long time ago purely on accident), but as much as their touch held only kindness, it did not extend to their healing abilities.

Because, god, did it ever hurt. Painful in some sick and horribly pleasurable way that Villain couldn’t seem to stop craving.

Their collarbone snapped back into place, the bone mending itself back together and their eyes flew open along with the sob that was wrenched from their throat. They flailed, partially to escape the hero’s torturous touch, partially to fall further into their grasp.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay… deep breaths remember?” The crime-stopper’s hand moved down their chest, giving their upper half the gift of a breath as they pained the rest of them.

The villain’s relief was only present for a fleeting moment, as they felt the hero’s fingertips trace the edges of the gash to their chest. Already the ripped skin pulled taught and their torn muscles seized up, under command of the other’s touch.

Villain knew what was coming.

They squirmed, the bath water submerging their legs in its warm embrace, Hero’s hand teasing at their wound, they couldn’t help but try and pull away. “Please—”

The hero shushed them, bringing their free hand to cup the villain’s chin. “I’ll be quick, I promise.” They pressed their hand flat against the gaping hole that should have been the villain’s abdomen, jolting them.

Villain screamed, it was dry and rugged, they recoiled from their nemesis but the only other thing there to hold them was the bath water. “Please, H-Hero, please—” Three more seconds and the criminal was sure to pass out.

Then it stopped. Before the villain could beg again, before they could lose consciousness, the pain stopped.

Cautiously, the villain’s eyes fluttered open, their enemy smiled sweetly back, fingertips now tracing the completely untouched abdomen of the villain’s. They looked normal, they looked okay, even after everything the hero had managed to restore them to their previous glory.

“You okay, gorgeous?”

Villain’s eyes met the hero’s once more, they were gentle yet somewhat mischievous. They nodded, brain completely fogged, maybe from the pain, most likely from the hero’s distracting gaze.

The area still pulsed with the ghost of a previous slash, but there was nothing, just the heat from the hero’s hands. It left a sweet aftertaste on their exhausted mind.

“Think you can handle another round tonight?” They waggled their eyebrows in emphasis, removing one hand to shut off the water to the bath as it began to cover the villain’s stomach.

Villain glared, but only for a moment, some of their usual snideness returning to their demeanour. “Can y-you be a little nicer?”

Hero hummed, eyes glued to their own hands as they made their way down to the inside of the criminal’s thighs, their hands beginning to resume their previous healing glow even under the water. “Really? I thought you liked it rough?”

The villain’s cheeks turned red, but they didn’t have time to retort before the hero placed their hands back against their skin and shut them up with a moan.

#ahhh this sucks I’m so sorry #i love you babyyyyy #Thank you for putting up with me for the past two years— #i love love love you baby!! #heres to the next two thousand years!’n #hero x villain #villain #villain x hero #hero #drabbles #fantasy #imagines #scenarios #hero and villain #villain and hero #heroes #villains #heroes and villains #villains and heroes #heroes x villains #villains x heroes #whump #whumpee #whumper #caretaker #villain whump #villain whumpee #hero caretaker #supervillain whumper #healing powers

[gingerly-writing]

Prompt #3477

"You can't keep me as a pet," the villain spat.

Their captor raised an eyebrow. "You're smart enough to know that I absolutely can. Whenever I like, for as long as I like."

"Someone will realise. Someone will come for me."

They sighed. "You're smart enough to know that's not true, either."

#prompt #my prompt #heroes and villains #captivity #whump #villain whump #captured villain

[whumppromptoftheday]

Hero runs out of the room, tripping over their feet, "I'll come back with help, I promise."

Villain watches them leave, ropes digging into their wrists. "Hurry."

#whump #whumppromptoftheday #whump prompt #villain whump #villain whumpee #hero whump #whumpee #whump dialogue #whump idea #hero whumpee

[whump-a-la-mode]

You’ve Heard of Scientist Whumpers, Now Get Ready for Scientist Whumpees!

Whumpee chained to their lab desk, working as the chain clinks with their movements

Whumpee being forced to keep up with ridiculous schedules, Whumper demanding impossible results in impossibly little time

Whumpee being monitored and abused by the guards in their own lab

Whumpee being forced to experiment on their friends

Whumpee sitting alone at night, after they’ve been locked in their cell, stitching up their own wounds

Whumpee working themself to exhaustion until they collapse in their lab, on their feet

Whumpee being held captive in their own lab, now taken over by Whumper

Whumpee being forced to go to conferences, pretending everything is okay, with Whumper by their side the whole time

Maybe Whumpee was once a mad scientist, a danger. Now, they’ve been captured, and the heroes intend on making them work. But, what if the heroes aren’t so nice after all?

Whumpee being beaten and reminded what a monster they are, and that this is the only way they can ever be worth anything to the world

Whumpee being forced to watch as their work is destroyed and they have to start over

Whumpee being too traumatized to ever return to their profession, trembling at the very sight of a beaker

#whump #whumpee #whumper #whumpblr #scientist whumpee #whump prompt #whump ask game #whump writing #whump community #hero villain whumpee #villain whump #hero villain whump

[letters-unsending]

No. 50

////

Hero and Villain, fake relationship

////

“How are you feeling, dear?”

“My ears keep ringing,” Hero sighed, tucking his icepack further into his neck, “and don’t call me dear. There’s not a soul who needs to hear that anymore. It’s just us.”

“Oh, it’s just us, isn’t it?” Villain smiled and leaned back their head, as if in bliss. The movement exposed a dark cleft of red. A cut ran like spilled wine down from their lips and to the gully of their clavicle, and it gleamed with a satin sheen, obscenely fresh. Hero averted his eyes.

“Yes, just us,” Hero agreed, indulging in Villain’s cryptic mood, “unless we’ve got ourselves a visitor you’re not telling me about.”

“I would tell you. I’ll always tell you,” Villain turned their head back down, leveling Hero with a stare, “this is our home after all.”

Hero stared back and wondered if his ears were ringing Villain’s words into nonsense. Beneath his gaze, Villain sprawled, languid and liquid as a cat, in their armchair.

They’d bought the chair–a chaise so high-backed it looked like it’d grown wings–the first week of their contract and displaced the original furniture that had come with the pre-furnished house. Quickly thereafter, they’d taken to redecorating the rest of their temporary rooms with utmost fervor. Decor spilled out, the chair its center point: fur rugs, velvet throws, glass-shaded lamps.

“You can keep the house,” Hero blurted, “it's not ours anymore. Contract’s over.”

“My, how generous,” Villain smiled wider, snake-like, and Hero feared they would bleed from the strain, “would you really leave this all to me?”

“Sure, you seem comfortable here,” Hero shrugged, “you put a lot of time into the place. I don’t want to get in the way.”

“You’ve decorated over the past year as well. Don’t give me all the credit, darling.” Villain waved their hand, nails flashing in the light. Following their fingers, Hero recognized his coat tossed over the back of Villain’s chair. Pens and papers, which he’d sworn to clean up, lay sprawled over the oil-dark coffee table.

“I only left a mess. That’s hardly decor.”

“It could never be a mess.” Villain reached a hand back and rested their palm over Hero’s coat. “I enjoy your additions. They make the place feel lived in.”

“Lived in,” Hero echoed, “guess it helped with our cover. Probably made this whole sham marriage look real enough.”

Villain’s face turned flat. The curl of their smile snapped like elastic, pinching into a terse line, and a bead of blood rounded their chin as they spoke.

“Why are you still wearing the ring?”

Hero let go of the icepack and it tumbled into a heap in his lap. “If it bothers you, I’ll just go on and take it off.”

“It does not.” Villain drawled, sweeping out their hand. “I am far from bothered.”

Their ring and its exquisite gem fluoresced upon their finger, a beacon casting its gleam over the mountain of their knuckles.

“It just, you know, feels wrong to take it off after so long.” Hero muttered, squeezing at his wrist. “I even have tanline from it.”

Villain smiled again, soft, but their skin still broke. Blood slipped along the underside of their jaw and Hero swallowed; he could almost feel it roll down his own throat.

“You shouldn’t have taken the bandage off.”

Hero glanced once more at his ring, before pushing himself off his chair. Pain shot like a bolt through his wrist. Staggering, he snagged a tissue from a box on the coffee table and then shuffled toward Villain, who met his approach with gleam in their eye.

“I don’t like being restricted.” Villain explained as Hero propped his hip into the chair arm and leaned over. “I couldn’t speak or move my head with that infernal contraption on.”

“Must’ve been hard for you to be so quiet.” Hero grabbed Villain’s chin and tilted their head back. “You had a long time for reflection in that hospital, didn’t you? Might be why you’re being so odd.”

“I didn’t need time to reflect,” Villain murmured, suddenly quiet, “I have considered this for a long time.”

“And what have you considered?” Hero set the tissue upon Villain’s skin, feigning focus, avoiding Villain’s gaze crawling shamelessly over his face.

“You.”

“Me?” Hero dabbed their throat, careful of the scab. He moved his steadying hand to the side of Villain’s neck.

“The both of us, [Hero].” Villain grabbed Hero’s wrist, draping their fingers and the gleaming ring over his arm, trapping Hero’s touch to his throat. Their carotid pulse drummed against his fingertips. “You see, my dear, I want to keep living in this house. I want to keep my ring. You must understand what I mean when I say this.”

“[Villain], you couldn’t possibly–”

“Will you stay?”

#writeblr #villain #writing prompt #hero #prompt #villain prompt #writing #hero prompt #hero x villain #drabble #fake relationship #fake marriage #hero and villain #heroes and villains #Hero and Villain team up #tw: blood #hero whump #villain whump #idk they’re both in pain

[whumpwillow]

Okay but think of a villain, madly in love with his hero. So much so that he was changing his evil ways and becoming a better person and feeling genuine joy after so many years of pain and loneliness. He was reluctant at first but now the hero’s arms are the only place he feels completely safe in.

But to the hero it was only a plan to have him under control. And when they get what they want they just give him up to the authorities, betrayed, alone, possibly badly mistreated in prison. And he just stares, taking the kicks and punches without saying a word. Because of course that was bound to happen, he's a horrible criminal

Bonus if eventually hero regrets it and misses him and goes to save him but he already seems so broken

bestie that’s literally so mean

#love it tho #whump #whump prompt #willow answers #answered asks #whump prompts #whumpee #whump tropes #basically villain whumpee will always be the best #villain whumpee #villain whump #betrayal whump #hero whumper #hero x villain

[the-broken-pen]

“We absolutely should not be doing this,” the hero whispered, but there wasn’t any heat to it. The other end of the line rustled as the villain laughed.

“There are a lot of things we shouldn’t be doing. Namely, I shouldn’t commit felonies, you shouldn’t talk to a felon…” their friend trailed off.

This time, the hero was the one who laughed. Outside, a bird began to chirp with the sunrise, and the villain sighed.

“Time distance.”

“Time distance,” the hero agreed, and by god if the miles weren’t a wound in itself.

“You should sleep,” the villain murmured. The hero hummed.

“Probably, yeah.”

Neither of them hung up.

“If I promise to call tomorrow, will you go to bed, please? For me?”

The hero sniffed, eyes heavy as the sun peeked through their blinds.

“Promise?”

“Pinkie.”

The hero slumped backwards. “I won’t hang up though.”

The villain laughed, softly, with an affection the hero didn’t want to think about.

“I’ll do the heavy lifting, once again,” but the hero knew they smiled as they said. The line clicked off.

—————————

“Hey, Sunshine. Committing nefarious acts of kindness and good deeds, I take it?”

“Hey,” the hero was breathless, hand pressed against their side. It came back bloody.

Any humor dropped from the villain’s voice in an instant.

“You’re hurt.”

The hero managed a pathetic laugh, flinching.

“Just a little.”

“It doesn’t sound like a little.”

The hero eyed their wound, swallowing.

“Absolutely just a little.”

“It’s a good thing you’re the kid of a hero, because love, you absolutely suck at lying.”

The hero tried to pretend something didn’t warm in their stomach at the endearment.

“I have…bandages. And antiseptic. And some good old natural dirt to rub into it if all else fails.”

The villain sighed on the other end of the line, and the hero knew they were rubbing their brow. For some reason, despite the pain, it made the hero grin.

“I’m fine,” they promised, and when the villain stayed silent, they said it again. “I’m fine.”

“If you die I’ll be mad at you.”

“Fairly certain that is the wrong sentiment for a villain to have towards a hero—“

“Has the bleeding stopped?”

The hero slapped some tape around the edge of the gauze, blood still dried around the edges.

“Yes.”

The relief was palpable.

“Good. Go to bed.”

“You’ll call again?”

“Promise.”

The hero smiled.

“Pinkie.”

The villain hung up.

—————————

“You wouldn’t happen to have a flamethrower I could borrow, do you?”

The hero blinked, holding the phone away from their face for a moment.

“I’m sorry?”

“Oh, don’t be, I just need one,” the villain snorted, and a loud crash sounded in the background.

“What on earth are you doing?” Concern rolled in the hero’s gut. The villain laughed.

“You’re going to want plausible deniability sunshine.”

“Right,” they paused. “But why a flamethrower?”

“It has flames, it throws them, what else could I ask for in an object?”

“I can throw flames.” Even though the villain couldn’t see it, the hero let a spark flicker on their finger tips.

“And again,” the villain’s voice lowered. “What more could I ask for?”

The hero didn’t have a response to that, but the villain somehow, like they always did, knew that.

“Any bruises I should know about?”

“And what would you do about them? You live on the other side of the country,” the hero teased.

“I can steal a fighter jet in less than half an hour.”

The hero blinked at the seriousness in the villain’s tone. They laughed, nervously.

“Please don’t do that.”

The villain sighed. “You ruin my fun.”

“I haven’t arrested you, so I think that should get me brownie points.”

“You live on the other side of the country,” the villain parroted.

“I could get there faster than a fighter jet,” the hero said. The villain snorted again.

“Will you—“

“Call again? Pinkie.”

The hero smiled. “Promise.”

The villain hung up.

—————————

The hero picked up the phone on the third ring, smiling.

“Hey trouble maker, what’s—”

All they got in response was a pained wheeze.

“Villain,” the hero said, gut plummeting. “Are you okay?”

“Fine,” the villain bit out, breath short. “I’m okay.”

“You don’t sound okay.”

The villain gave something that was either a laugh or a sob.

“Mhm.”

“What’s going on,” their voice broke, and the villain fell silent.

“It’s going to be okay,” they murmured. And the hero knew.

Innately, in a painful, wretched way, they knew.

“My dad is there.”

Their dad, the superhero. Their dad, who had forbidden them from ever speaking.

Their dad, who wanted the villain, their villain, dead.

The villain made a quiet noise of ascent.

“I’m coming—”

“You won’t make it.”

The hero stilled.

“How bad is it?” Their hands were shaking. They couldn’t find their suit, why couldn’t they find their suit—

“Too fast for a fighter jet,” the villain tried, voice too light and wet with tears.

The hero slammed a drawer closer, throwing open the door to the basement, searching for something, anything.

“I can be faster,” they grit out, breathless. Their chest hurt.

“Not that fast.”

“Please,” the hero sobbed, and on the other end of the line, the villain did too.

“Don’t do this to me.”

“I don’t want to,” the villain swore. They coughed, and it was a deathly thing.

Something slammed in the background on the end of the line, and the hero’s fingers clenched around the phone.

“What was that?”

The villain let out a pained whine, phone crackling as they shifted away, before their voice came over the speaker again.

“I’ll call again tomorrow.”

The hero’s face was wet.

“Promise?”

The villain let out a small sob, but they still sounded like they were smiling, soft with affection.

“Pinkie.”

The hero didn’t mean to say what came next.

“I love you.”

The villain didn’t even pause, breath hitching. “I love you too.”

The line crackled.

“Sunshine, I need you to do something for me now,” the villain rasped, voice choked with pain and tears and love and fear. “I need you to hang up.”

The hero forgot how to breathe.

“No—”

“Please,” the villain took a sharp breath through their nose, and it sounded painful. “Just this once. I can’t do it this time.”

“Villain,” the hero began, but the villain cut them off as something crashed in the background once more.

It sounded like a building falling.

It sounded like the hero breaking, too.

“Sunshine,” the villain pleaded. “Just once. I’ll-I’ll call you back. I swear.”

They could both taste the lie.

The hero sniffed.

The villain sobbed.

And for the first time, the hero hung up.

The villain never called them back.

#writing #writing community #creative writing #snippet #angst #heroes and villains #fic writing #ficlet #writing prompt #writblr #angst prompt #no happy ending #sorry y’all #I’m alive #….they might not be tho #whump #villain whump #hero x villain #villain whumpee #I feel kinda bad about this one tbh #instagram comments make me feral ngl #young writer #writers of tumblr #death #wounded #phone call #long distance #sorry y’all this one got long #I passed all my finals btw

[pigeonwhumps]

Superhero's pet

WoW's birthday event: day 9: aftermath of rescue | sickness | "you're burning up"

Taglist: @painful-pooch @i-eat-worlds @a-funeral-romance @rainydaywhump

Caretaker's rescued Villain from Superhero from years in his 'care'. But that doesn't mean things are easy, especially when he's still her boss.

The blame for this goes entirely to @echo-goes-mmm.

1.9k

CWs: Villain whump, pet whump, severe self-dehumanisation, past dehumanisation, past animalisation, asking for punishment, past torture

Caretaker prepares for work quickly and silently nowadays. She needs the extra time, because she has someone else to look after now.

Villain. Superhero's former plaything. The test case in the new villain rehabilitation programme.

Or, as they call themself – pet.

They wanted to be called dog. They were called dog. But pet somehow seems like a slight improvement. They use that now, for themself.

They have the same routine every day Caretaker works, and it seems to help. She wakes them up once she's completely ready to leave. She'd gladly leave them asleep, but the one time she tried, they panicked and hurt themself. She hasn't tried since.

She shakes them gently awake. They're asleep on a human-sized pet bed in her room, snuggled under a large blanket until only the tip of their satin bonnet is visible.

They wouldn't take the bed in the spare room, insisting that "pets don't deserve beds," and she wasn't letting them sleep on the carpet. This was the compromise, when she realised even a room to themself was too much.

They wake and push themself immediately to their hands and knees, reaching out to kiss Caretaker's trainers. She takes a step back.

"Hey, buddy. You don't need to do that, remember?"

Villain trembles, forehead dropping to meet the hard carpet. "Your pet is sorry, Mistress. Please punish it."

"Not happening. Come on, get dressed and then it's time for breakfast."

Caretaker turns her back as quickly as possible as Villain starts stripping without a care who's there. She's not sure she wants to know what Superhero did to make them like this.

They won't take off their collar, insisting that it'll make them a "bad dog", but there's no bell any longer and she's working on the tag.

"Your pet is dressed, Mistress."

"Good pet." She hates the term, but they practically glow when she calls them it so maybe it's worth it? "Follow me."

Villain crawls behind Caretaker, settling into a knelt position when they reach the kitchen. She stifles a sigh. They've come on since she brought them home, but there's still a long way to go. The number one priority of which is to get them to eat like a person.

"What would you like to eat this morning, Villain? Crumpets or toast with jam?" They were their two favourites before they vanished, she knows. And they're edible with fingers, which... Caretaker doesn't ever want to watch them eat like an animal again.

"Whatever Mistress desires."

"Well I would desire you to make a decision. It's okay, I won't punish you for it."

Villain pales, visibly trembling again. "May this pet... may it have crumpets, please, Mistress? It understand if it requires a reminder of its position instead, but please show mercy on your pet for following your instructions." Then they cringe away, repeating under their breath in a monotone, "Good dogs don't ask for mercy. Good dogs take what they're given. Good dogs need regular reminders."

"Shh, buddy. It's okay, I'm not going to hurt you."

Villain's breath hitches. "Please remind this pet of its place, Mistress. It needs regular reminders, This pet is a bad, bad dog and it needs to learn its place."

Caretaker winces. Why does 'dog' sound so much worse than 'pet'?

"You're not a bad pet. You're very good already. Is that where your scars are from?"

"Some, Mistress. This pet requires maintenance."

Caretaker nods, glad she's already eaten. She sets the dog bowl in front of them. "Eat your breakfast."

Villain obediently lifts a crumpet (and god, at least they're using their hands now) and hunches over it, eating like they'll never be fed again.

For all Caretaker knows, that could be a plausible possibility in their mind. Did Superhero threaten that? Villain is still underfed.

She watches as they polish off their meal. As she has before, she wonders if she's using the right pronouns anymore. Sure, it/its are conditioned into Villain, but that doesn't mean she shouldn't use them. Does it?

"I'm going to work today, Villain. While I'm gone, I'd like you to clean the dishes and look after your goldfish. You can go out on the balcony if you like, but no further outside. I'm sorry, we can't risk it yet. Is that clear?"

"Yes, Mistress."

"Good pet."

Caretaker bends down and scratches behind their ear, which they lean into eagerly. "Stay safe."

Then she leaves, unable to think of anything else to say.

_

Superhero has asked to see her.

Superhero has asked to see her.

Caretaker would be nervous normally, because now she's finished her training he only ever calls her in when she's failed, but now... what if he's found out about Villain? As a technopath it was simplicity itself hacking into the system to investigate the rehabilitation centre, but what if she left some trace of herself behind? Online, at the centre itself, in her behaviour over the past few weeks... she could've done anything.

As she walks through the building, she passes many people, some of whom smile or call out greetings. She wonders just how many know what Superhero's been doing.

She hadn't. Villain had been missing for two years and god, she was so naïve. Believing Superhero's reassurances (when she dared to ask) that they were being well taken care of, and he'd visited himself, the conditions were completely up to scratch. They should be no worry of Caretaker's now. His terrible lies that make her blood boil.

She knocks on his office door and waits for a response before entering.

"You wanted to see me, sir?"

His eyes are ice cold behind his smile. "Yes. I wanted to ask how you're doing."

"Sir?"

"After Villain's escape. I notice your success rate is down recently."

"Oh." She twists her fingers behind her back. Of course she has, she's not arresting anyone else to be hauled off and tortured into Villain's state or worse. "I'm sorry, sir, I've just been worried about Villain." Not a lie. "I'll do better."

"Mm." He steeples his hands together under his chin, watching her steadily with the gaze of the agency's golden boy, and it's in moments like these that she's reminded of how brutal his training was. How unforgiving. "Any idea where he could be?"

Her mind flashes back to a morning during Villain's first week with her, when they'd licked spilt jam off the kitchen floor because "bad dogs don't waste food".

"No, sir."

"Pity. As their nemesis, I expect you to do better."

"I expect you to do better, Caretaker. We'll try again in an hour."

Caretaker shivers. At least she no longer has to be trained by Superhero.

Why did she ever like and trust him?

"Sorry, sir."

"Let me know if you find anything. Dismissed." He flicks a hand towards the door and she exits obediently. You don't argue with Superhero, even if you're not trying to keep a low profile.

Às soon as she's far enough away, she leans against a wall and closes her eyes, breathing hard. She is so, so glad she doesn't regularly carry a knife around with her. Stabbing Superhero 47 times in the chest might be a slight giveaway that she no longer likes him.

_

Caretaker returns home to the smell of chemicals and Villain kneeling on the freshly-cleaned carpet, behind an array of implements. Lighter, matches, fire poker, broom, knife, bleach, rope, salt...

"Villain, what..."

"You have been stressed, Mistress, and this pet is overdue its maintenance. This pet thought that this might help, as it did Master." Then they say somewhat proudly, "This pet used its initiative, as you requested. Has it pleased you, Mistress?"

The pieces finally click and Caretaker stumbles back, hand flying to her mouth, horrified. Villain thought... Caretaker would want to torture them because she was stressed? More than that, they fetched all these torture implements and brought them together in an effort to please her, knowing how they would be used?

"I... put those away, Villain, please. We won't be needing those tonight. And once you're finished go and wait in the living room. I think we need to talk again."

"Yes, Mistress." They pick up the first implement (a hammer) and crawl awkwardly towards the cupboard where the DIY stuff is kept. Caretaker thinks about reminding them they can walk, but they're shaking so much already. It probably wouldn't do any good.

She changes into something more comfortable before turning the kettle on, her own hands shaking. God. It feels like every day she discovers some new, despicable thing Superhero has done. Forget the knives – she could kill him with her bare hands.

She used to just be able to relax after work. Those were the days. But– she can't very well just leave Villain. They're her responsibility, and she's their only option.

Sighing, she carefully carries two cups of chamomile tea into the living room and sets them down on the coffee table. Villain is knelt in what must be the most uncomfortable corner of the room – difficult to find, as the place is tidier than she's ever seen it.

"Will you come and join me on the sofa, please, Villain? Or at least beside the sofa, if it makes you feel more comfortable."

She's sure they'll do that, they always do, and she arranges soft cushions on the hard carpet to make it more comfortable, since the rug doesn't reach far enough. At least she's always had far too many cushions.

She lives in hope that one day they'll feel comfortable enough to start using furniture again.

"So, first things first. Thank you for cleaning the house so thoroughly. It's never been so sparkling. You didn't have to, but I'm very grateful you did. And I'm proud of you for using your initiative, please keep doing so. However, stop bringing me torture implements. That's an order. I'm not going to punish you, Villain, and nobody deserves being hurt by any of that. Understand?"

"Yes, Mistress. This pet apologises for not letting you choose the method of punishment completely. It will do better in future."

"No, that's not what I–" She cuts off, pinching her brow. She's not going to get them to understand, at least not yet. "Thank you, buddy. Now, why don't we both relax? I'll find us something we'll both like."

"Yes, Mistress."

They settle for an episode of Great British Bake Off in the end. Not that Villain ever comments either way, but they did when they still fought each other and if Villain lied to her about their preferences then that's their own fault.

Villain rests their head on her lap and watches the screen sideways, eyes half-closed. Caretaker rubs small circles into their shoulders.

She feels so incredibly guilty for arresting them in the first place. She's responsible for this, albeit indirectly. The Villain she knew would never have forgiven her.

Speaking of which...

"Why are you never angry with me, Villain? I'm the reason you were tortured for two years."

Villain glances up from under their lashes for just a second.

"Good dogs don't bark."

#whump #whump writing #wow birthday whump #wow birthday whump day 9 #aftermath of rescue #villain whump #hero and villain #hero whumper #hero caretaker #villain whumpee #pet whump

[befuddled-calico-whump]

antagonistic characters who vanish only to reappear months later, a shadow of their former selves and carrying physical and emotional scars my beloved

#thinking of no one specific but if i could put this in every piece of media i would #fave <3 #whump prompt #villain whump

[whump-in-the-closet]

Villain stumbled forward. “No—oh god, no.” Their blood turned to ice, horror spearing through them. Anything but this.

Hero dragged Villain’s sidekick behind them, a finger hooked through the protégé’s metal collar— a suppressor for their abilities, but tightened to the point of bruising. Hero kicked Villain’s sidekick into the ground, nodding to Villain. “Found them a few weeks ago. Lost and drunk and hating the world.”

Villain took a shaking step forward, eyes on the pile of trembling clothes that was Sidekick.

“A pity that someone so young is already trying to destroy the world.”

“Sidekick?” Villain whispered.

No answer.

Then. “What did you do to them?” It came out as a snarl.

Hero grabbed Sidekick’s jaw, forcing them to look up. They turned their face towards Villain, allowing Villain a good look at the bruises. At the black eye. At the open gash that ran across their forehead. At the sharp cut that sliced from lip to chin. Smaller knife-cuts down their throat.

Sidekick sobbed, closing their eyes. They mouthed, I’m sorry. Again and again. I’m sorry i’m sorry i’m sorry—

Hero smiled. “I re-educated them.”

#heehoo #whump #whump writing #whumpblr #whump prompt #whump scenario #villain whump #sidekick whumpee #whump community #hero and villain #hero and villain whump #villian sidekick #manhandling #shock collar #ofc the infamous chin tilt #and the ‘what did you do to them’ #fun yk?

[blackrosesandwhump]

How to Whump Your Hero (or Villain)!

For those times when you have the perfect whumpable hero or villain and don't know what to do with them. Use this generator to get ideas!

You have your character. What do you use to whump them?

Axe

Bandages

Barbed wire

Blindfold

Branding iron

Cage

Chains

Club

Coffin

Collar

Dagger

Drugs

Duct tape

Fishing line

Gag

Garrote

Gibbet

Handcuffs

Hatchet

Knife

Manacles

Operating Table

Oxygen mask

Pistol

Pitchfork

Plastic

Poison

Rapier

Rope

Scalpel

Scythe

Spear

Straightjacket

Stitches

Sword

Syringe

Taser

Whip

Using this random number generator, for example I get #5 Branding iron. Time for some painful branding for my poor villain!

Happy writing!

#whump #whump ideas #whump tropes #whump inspiration #writing inspiration #idea generation #whump writing #hero whumpee #villain whumpee #hero whump #villain whump #whump prompts #whumpy things #whump things #whump words #prompts #story prompts #writing prompts #writing ideas #writer's block #random prompt

[the-three-whumpeteers]

The whumpee expected their interrogation to be plain and easy to handle- after all, none of the heroes seemed to have a single cruel bone in their body, but they were wrong. The heroes turn to torture almost immediately, and the whumpee sees first hand just how sadistic and merciless the protectors of the city really were.

#whump #whump prompt #whump scenario #whumpee #aramis stabs someone #whump prompts #whumper #hero whumper #villain whumpee #villain whump

[seasonscourt]

#1

A whirlwind of rage, Hero threw the door open, stomping forward to slam their hands down on the desk in Superhero’s office.

“Why do you have to tear Villain down like that, Superhero?”

Superhero looked up calmly from the papers they’d been reading and looked Hero in the eye

“Simple. They don’t have the temperament for this job—”

“What?”

“—they’re not like you, Hero, not like us.” Superhero continued calmly, breezing over Hero’s interruption.

Hero just stared incredulously at Superhero for a moment before launching heatedly into a defense of their friend. “They’re the best trainee in the academy, more than that they’re the best person I know! Villain deserves more than anyone to graduate from the academy and go pro as a hero”

“Exactly. They’re too good, they won’t be able to to make the real decisions, seize the right opportunities. They’re simply not selfish enough. Not when it comes down to it, not like you” Superhero jerked the pen in their hand at Hero as they finished. Hero reached out in retaliation snapping it out of their hands and into the desk.

“I’m not like that.”

Superhero raised a doubtful eyebrow at Hero.

“You sure about that? Why don’t we test that little Hero?”

Hero took a step back.

“What do you mean?”

Superhero stood up and gestured at the door.

“I mean you’re formally dismissed, send Villain in”

.

Villain re-entered the training room dead quiet, eyes gazing into nothing. Hero took a step towards them concerned and slightly apprehensive.

“Villain, what happened?”

Villain slowly turned to look at them, and the moment Hero caught their gaze they burst into tears.

“Villain!”

Hero ran forward, gathering Villain in their arms as their legs buckled slowly pulling the both of them down to sit on the floor

Hero’s voice was soft as they asked Villain again what happened, but Villain could only shake their head mutely before crawling into Hero’s lap and clutch desperately at them as they sobbed into their shoulder.

Hero hugged them back letting them stay together like that for a what seemed like hours

“Hero?” Villains finally voiced with their head still buried in Hero’s neck.

“Mm?”

A whimper, “Hero, please.”

“Shhh, just calm down. You’re okay, just breath , it’s okay” Hero rubbed soothing circles on the sobbing Villains back as Villain sobbed into their shoulder.

Hero glanced up at the smirking Superhero watching them both through the door, and felt a flash of irritation run through them.

They clutched their arms a little harder around Villain’s waist. Having Villain, smart, closed-off kind, lonely Villain, crying and vulnerable and in their lap and clinging to them felt like utter perfection. Damn it. Superhero had been right, they weren’t a good enough person to give this feeling up. Not when this felt like everything Hero had ever wanted.

#hero x villain #villain whumpee #possessive hero #superhero whumper #trainee hero #trainee villain #writing #hero #villain #whump #villain whump

[oliversrarebooks]

fuck you, I'm a goddamn menace: the truth is...

Prev > Masterlist

This came about as a result of the Choose Your Own Whump poll! The winners were:

secret underground facility

whumpee who is traumatized and hiding it badly

creepily intimate whumper

the corruption was infecting their thoughts, turning them against their allies

tw: restraints, beatings, physical and emotional abuse, drugging, needles, poison, truth serum, mind control

One year after the city's second-most notorious villain, the technomancer Morgan, was taken in by the hero team for medical treatment...

Morgan cracked his eyes open and immediately had to shut them again, blinded by obnoxiously bright lights.

He was woozy, barely awake, and his entire body hurt -- especially his right hand, which was throbbing with pain. It almost felt like some of his fingers had been broken, but he knew from experience that that would hurt far worse than this, unless...

The dreamlike haze slowing down his mind confirmed it. He was on some pretty strong painkillers. It was the sort of thing that would have sent him into a blind panic before, terrified of being incapacitated, but lately he'd been getting used to it. When he'd worked for Salcedo, the city's nastiest supervillain, he never received any form of painkillers, his boss far preferring to use his painful, torturous healing ability to re-injure Morgan and heal him back wrong again and again. A punishment for meeting his defeat at the hands of heroes, or looking at Salcedo wrong, or anything else the boss dreamed up.

That had all changed since he'd officially switched sides. No matter how badly he screwed up, no matter how much he irritated the shit out of the heroes, they always provided him with proper medical care, complete with ample medication. The feel of a hospital bed underneath him confirmed it: he must be in the heroes' infirmary, and that meant he could actually relax. 

He'd have to deal with Arthur, the team leader, and his unwanted concern and pity later, of course. That was absolutely a thorn in his side. He was definitely not looking forward to it.

Morgan shifted slightly, his wrists sore, and realized that he couldn't. He was restrained? And not with soft, comfortable restraints either, but hard metal ones. 

That couldn't be right. The hero team hadn't seen fit to restrain him in almost a year. He'd somehow managed to establish trust with them -- an uneasy, fragile trust, but trust nonetheless -- and he couldn't remember what he'd done to break that trust. The last thing he remembered was fighting his former boss at the city power plant, Arthur shouting his name... and then it all got blurry. He'd been injured, somehow, and he had a vague memory of collapsing into a dirty puddle with the sounds of the fight still raging around him.

He'd been fighting alongside the hero team, on a mission with them, taking out Salcedo's communications equipment and drones left and right. Why would they restrain him now, when he'd been helping them? He used his technomancy to feel out any nearby machines, and found it unresponsive. They'd used power suppressors, too.

The realization forced his eyelids to fly open, and as he adjusted to the painful light, an all-too-familiar ceiling swam into view. Harsh, bare, buzzing fluorescent lighting flickered too close to his face.

He wasn't in the heroes' infirmary at all. He wasn't even in a civilian hospital or a jail infirmary or a psychiatric ward. No, he was in Salcedo's lair, drugged and restrained. The first time he'd been captured since he'd betrayed his boss and started fighting by Arthur's side to stop his plans.

Oh, fuck.

The surge of adrenaline cleared his mind enough to think. Salcedo was going to torture him, that much was certain. Salcedo punished Morgan with beatings, starvation, and torture even for small mistakes -- one of the primary reasons Morgan had finally defected -- so he didn't even want to think about what his punishment for open betrayal would be. The fact that he was still alive at all could only mean that Salcedo was plotting something truly nasty.

Why was he drugged, though? The restraints and power suppressants had him entirely at Salcedo's mercy, and drugs were never a technique he had favored, since he didn't want Morgan's mind dulled to the pain and stress. Since he was already physically restrained, the only answer Morgan could come up with was that the drugs were necessary to compromise his mind. And that wasn't a comforting thought in the slightest.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

He would be rescued, wouldn't he? The hero team would definitely notice he was missing. They'd figure out what happened to him. He'd have to deal with Arthur's smug fucking face over rescuing his stupid ass again, but even that embarrassment was a vast improvement over whatever Salcedo had planned. There was no way Arthur would pass up the opportunity to preen and gloat over his heroism. He'd definitely go out of his way to rescue Morgan for that reason alone.

Unless he didn't.

Unless the hero team decided a half-reformed villain barely in control of his own powers wasn't worth it. Unless they were only putting up with him because it stopped him from being a nuisance. Unless they thought back on the things he'd done as a villain and decided he deserved whatever Salcedo had cooked up for him.

God fucking damn it.

He hated them sometimes. Hated their easy laughter and their camaraderie. Hated the way they awkwardly tried to include him in the group like a weird kid at recess. Hated Arthur's flawless smile, and his sickening dedication to doing the right thing, and how quick he was with a reassuring word, and how he worked so hard he had to practically be forced to rest --

Yeah, he hated them all, and they probably hated him too, and they'd be glad if Salcedo lobotomized him. He never should have defected in the first place. 

Morgan heard footsteps approaching the door, and shut his eyes again just as it opened. The sound of Salcedo's heavy combat boots approaching him was enough to send panic spiking through his heart, but he tried not to show it on his face, stubbornly pretending to be out still.

"I know you're awake, Morgan," said his former boss's deceptively smooth voice. "Don't embarrass yourself."

Morgan didn't twitch a muscle.

"You're a smart man. Or at least, I thought you were before you went and pulled this little stunt. The point is that you know very well where you stand right now."

So do whatever torture you came here to do and spare me your self-important monologuing, he thought. I'd rather have my fingernails pulled out than listen to you.

"You betrayed me, Morgan."

Here it comes.

"I gave everything to you. An unhappy teenager from an unhappy home, like so many others, but you were different from them, weren't you? You had potential. You had brains. And most of all, you had that wonderful little gift of a power. And I gave you everything. I trained you, I funded your lab and your inventions, I gave you food and a roof over your head. I forgave you for all of your many mistakes with only... sensible punishments." 

Morgan tried not to flinch as Salcedo got even closer.

"And yet, you betrayed me."

Morgan tensed for Salcedo's fist a moment before it connected with his cheek, pain blossoming from his shattered cheekbone. The pain was chased by a warm stinging feeling, Salcedo's healing power, before he was cracked across the face again. Breaking faces only to heal them and break them again was one of Salcedo's signature moves, and Morgan could almost tune out the familiar beating, especially since the painkillers dampened the sensation. His ears were ringing, and he knew he'd be severely concussed with his face swollen beyond recognition if it weren't for Salcedo healing him after each punch, allowing him to prolong the beating as long as he liked.

It was only when Salcedo slowed down and gave Morgan's mind enough time to recover from the assault that he finally decided to crack his eyes open. "Is that all?" he said, knowing that his fate was sealed whether or not he provoked the supervillain.

"That was just your punishment for the time you broke into headquarters and damaged some of my henchmen and equipment," he said. "Your punishment for betrayal hasn't even started yet."

"Hm, let me guess what it will be. Is it punching me in the face? Or maybe you want to mix it up a bit and punch me in the kidneys. Or get spicy and kick me in the --"

With no change in expression, Salcedo grabbed Morgan's injured hand and twisted, the bones audibly cracking. Morgan couldn't retain his straight face, and a sad little whimper escaped from his lips.

"Now that I have your undivided attention, allow me to explain exactly what is going to happen to you. Anticipation is half the fun, you know," he said, the sickening green light from his fingertips mending Morgan's bones back into place, a process almost as painful as the initial injury. He pulled a capped syringe full of a clear liquid from his pocket.

"If you're banking on me being scared of needles..." Morgan bluffed while internally screaming. He'd rather have the beating. At least those were predictable.

"Of course not. I'm banking on you being scared of what Marcy in the chemistry department has been cooking up since you've been gone." He tapped the side of the syringe. "It's not quite a mind control drug, but it's a good start -- a combination of potent truth serum that dulls your mind, and a sedative that makes you highly suggestible. The tests we've conducted on henchmen have been most amusing."

"...So what? A truth serum? You think the hero team trusts me with some secret information? They don't. And they have official protocol to change out the passcodes when anyone's captured, so you're not going to get anything useful."

"Oh, Morgan, don't worry your pretty little head. I'm not expecting you to be useful for your information. I have much better plans than that." 

Morgan's struggles were futile as Salcedo pushed the syringe into his arm and pushed the plunger. He didn't know what the fuck Salcedo thought he was going to accomplish with this and didn't want to find out, and he especially didn't want his mind put out of commission for any length of time. 

Salcedo's smug face was both infuriating and unreadable. What was his game? Morgan knew he had better figure it out before -- before --

-- before whatever was in that syringe shifted his mind out of gear. He pulled against the restraints again, shaking his head, as though it would somehow stop or slow the deep fog settling in over his mind. His eyelids grew heavy and lidded as he blinked slowly up at his wretched former boss, the intense sense of dread muffled as it became more difficult to think clearly.

"That looks to be kicking in nicely. I'm guessing you're ready to tell the truth now. Just let it all out," said Salcedo, grabbing his chin and looking into his eyes. "How are you feeling?"

Morgan wanted to spit in his fucking face, but instead... "Groggy. Out of it. What the fuck is in that stuff?"

"It's a miracle drug, isn't it? That's why Marcy is a star employee and you're an also-ran. I only wish I could use this on Arthur. See what the city's shining hope really has buried deep down inside."

"There isn't anything buried," said Morgan before he can think twice. "He really is just that fucking heroic. Makes me sick. ...And jealous." He shook his head again, trying to could do anything to clear that uncomfortable fog. He had the dim feeling that he hadn't meant to say all of that, that the drug was working, but he didn't seem able to resist. The words came out before he could measure them.

"Is that so?" Salcedo chuckled. "Is that why you betrayed me?"

"No, I betrayed you because you're a fucking miserable sack of dicks who beats me for fun," said Morgan, fire cutting through the fog. "You think consequences will never apply to you, that there will never be any repercussions for treating your henchmen like shit smeared on your shoe. I can't wait until they all turn on you. I hope they kick your fucking teeth in."

"How charming," said Salcedo in a strained voice. "Now, I realize you can't help expressing your true feelings while you're high off that drug I gave you, so it would be unfair of me to punish you." 

Then he smashed his fist across Morgan's mouth, allowing Morgan to cough up a mouthful of blood before healing him.

"Listen to me, Morgan," said Salcedo, this time grabbing his face with more force and purpose. "You will listen to me, and you will absorb everything I have to say."

"No, no --" Morgan tried to pull himself free, but he'd always been physically much weaker than his boss, and the drug cocktail wasn't helping.

"You've always been a villain, haven't you? I found you and I molded you int a villain, one capable of terrorizing the city on so many occasions. Have you forgotten that?"

"No..."

"And you enjoyed yourself. You loved making your gadgets, you loved watching the civilians scream and cower. You loved the feeling of power and control. And you still love it."

"I... I do..." he said. He'd been fighting so hard to suppress all of that lately, to show the hero team he could be more than just a villain, that he could do something helpful for a change... but deep down inside, a part of him missed laughing maniacally while riding some mechanical monstrosity through the city.

The truth was, heroics was fucking hard. Civilians were unpredictable and frequently ungrateful, and with the hero team, he was no longer allowed to blow them off and make them someone else's problem. He had to work had. He had to care.

"That's right, Morgan, you miss being a villain." Salcedo's voice was like a snake tightening around its prey. "It's all you were ever good for. It's all you'll ever be good for."

That was exactly what Morgan often felt late at night, in his bunk in the heroes' headquarters, wondering what the fuck he was doing there and how long it could last. "I'm..."

"It's all you'll ever be good for," said Salcedo with more force, letting it sink into Morgan's compromised brain.

"It's all I'll ever be good for," he repeated in a dull voice, resistance crumbling. 

"You hate trying to be a hero. It's too hard. You're awful at it. You're tired, and you want to give up. You want to give in."

He really was so, so tired. "I want... I want to give up..."

"You hate working with the hero team," Salcedo hissed in his ear. "You're jealous of them, aren't you? How they're praised and fawned over while you rot in the shadows, fighting for the smallest scraps of recognition. How they don't trust you."

"I..." A memory flashed through his mind. Arthur convincing him to join in on the team's horror movie night. Julie, the youngest, screaming, while Toshiro criticized the effects. Laughing, eating popcorn, forgetting for a moment who and what he was.

He couldn't forget for long. He could see it in their eyes, in their hesitance, how fragile the trust was.

"You'll never be one of them. They'll never trust you. You're a villain, and that's all you'll ever be."

It was true, wasn't it? They would never trust him. He'd escaped Salcedo, only to spend his time scraping and clawing to get the hero team's trust. Fighting to be something he wasn't, when he knew, he knew, he'd never be good enough for them.

And this was the proof, wasn't it? They weren't coming to rescue him. No one was coming to rescue him.

"You hate them, Morgan. I know you do. You hate them more than anything."

"I... I hate..." The corrupting voice was twisting his thoughts, making it hard to think anything but what he was told.

"That's right," he coaxed. "You hate them. And you hate Arthur most of all."

Arthur. That's right, he hated Arthur. Arthur with his perfect smile. Arthur with his words of encouragement. Arthur telling Morgan that he believed in him, believed he could be something better, as though he had any right. 

Arthur, who probably knew by now that he was wrong, that Morgan was no better than any other villain, who wouldn't be lifting a finger to rescue him from the trap he'd inevitably found himself in.

"You hate Arthur," Salcedo insisted.

"I..."

It should be so easy. It was the truth: he did hate Arthur. And he hadn't been able to resist the serum up until now. Why was he choking on these words?

"You. Hate. Arthur."

"Of course I don't hate you," said Arthur, once, on a quiet, moonlit night, sitting on top of a building, guarding a museum from an impending heist. "You're a clever guy and a hard worker, and you can do the right thing when it really matters. And the villainy? I'm not saying it's okay, because it definitely wasn't, but I get where it comes from. I do. Any of us powered people could've gone down the same path."

"I don't," said Morgan under his breath.

"What was that?"

Morgan's voice caught again. He did hate Arthur. Hated how much he wished he could see Arthur's dumb fucking face as he kicked down the door. Hated how much he wanted to be in the heroes' infirmary, with Arthur checking up on him and delivering a snack or book of puzzles, instead of here.

He hated how Arthur made him want to be something more than just a villain, and how fucking hard it was, all the time.

"I don't hate Arthur," Morgan said more clearly, unable to stop it. "I want to hate him, because it'd make everything so much easier, but I don't. I can't."

Salcedo recoiled in disbelief, a look of shock and disgust on his face. "Oh, for fuck's sake. You can't be fucking serious. He hates you, you know. He's foiled your plans so many times --"

"He doesn't hate me," said Morgan with more confidence. "He said it himself, every time I asked him. And he doesn't fuck around with that kind of thing. If he says it, he means it. It's infuriating."

"Fucking hell. I suspected, but --" Salcedo grabbed Morgan by the front of his flimsy medical gown, pulling him close enough that he could feel hot breath on his face. "Are you in love with him?!"

Morgan froze.

No. Fuck no. That's what he wanted to say. No, obviously not.

But he couldn't.

His head pounded.

"I don't know."

"You. Don't. Know?" Salcedo screamed in his face.

"I don't know!" The fog in his head was so thick, making it impossible for him to think through his words. "I don't know how I feel about him -- or about anything -- or if I'm even capable of --"

Salcedo grabbed his head and slammed it against the medical bed, sending his ears ringing. "Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck! The one fucking thing I wanted you for, the one fucking thing you were going to be good at and you can't even do that right -- what kind of useless, idiot villain can't even hate the man who beats him into the ground once a week --" His laugh was harsh and bitter. "Oh hell, maybe you actually like that. I bet you do. Fucking little freak."

Morgan ignored the insult, trying to push aside the insinuations that he really, really didn't want to think about in this state. Salcedo had wanted him for something. There was a point to all of this apart from psychological torment. He tried to grasp that thought with his slippery mind, recognizing its importance. "What were you going to have me do?"

"Be a sleeper agent. Stoke the fires of hatred within you. Let the hero team rescue you, pretend everything was normal, and then when their guards were down, kill them all."

His chest tightened. "No -- I don't want to -- I won't!"

"Oh, it's beyond obvious you won't. I can see that now. You're not only useless, you're fucking delusional. So it's on to plan B."

"Plan B?"

"Remember these?" Salcedo held up a glass vial. Tiny, iridescent insects were flitting around inside, crawling up the glass and bumping against the lid.

Morgan surged forward in the restraints. "My babies!" he said, in the tone of someone reuniting with a long lost pet. He certainly did remember them -- his mechanical mosquitoes, one of his favorite inventions, which he'd had to leave behind during his semi-involuntary heroic turn. These small drones were easy for Morgan to control with his technological powers. They could be used for surveillance or distraction, equipped with tiny tools, or used to inject small amounts of potent drugs, incapacitating enemies and guards with sedatives or hallucinogens. On one memorable occasion, he'd laced them with the common cold, ensuring that the heroes would stay home while he raided the semiconductor factory. Good memories.

"They're my 'babies' now, I'm afraid," said Salcedo, pulling the vial further out of reach. "It took a while to override your protocols and reprogram them, but I think the effect will be worth it. You always used them for disgustingly non-lethal purposes. I've always wanted to change that."

He shrank back, not liking where this was going. 

"They're fitted with a potent and especially painful neurotoxin, but they won't sting you immediately. No, they're programmed to hide in your clothing until disturbed. When Arthur comes to save you, that's when you'll get the privilege of watching his excruciating death, knowing he died in agony trying to save you."

"No, no, there's no way. He's not even going to come save me, you know, he's --"

"Oh, you fool. He's already on his way." Salcedo shoved a gag into Morgan's mouth, clasping it firmly shut. "Don't want you warning him. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have more important business." He opened the vial, and the little mosquito drones flew out and nestled in Morgan's medical gown, in the restraints, even in his hair. With his power suppressed, he was helpless to control them. He could only watch as Salcedo left the room.

Morgan screamed through the gag, accomplishing nothing but straining his throat. He had to come up with some sort of plan, but his head was swimming from stress and drugs and he couldn't hold on to any one thought long enough to formulate a strategy. 

It didn't matter. Salcedo was wrong. No one was coming to rescue him.

...He must be imagining the sounds of a fight, drawing closer...

Prev > Masterlist

@cardboardarsonist @zeiniszein @crystallizedmidnight @mistythedritten @pigeonwhumps @sowhumpshaped @sparrowsage @sunshiline-writes @dont-look-me-in-the-eye @i-eat-worlds @a-formless-entity

#whump #whump writing #villain whump #villain whumpee #villain whumper #drugging #medical whump #mind control #truth serum #abuse #fuck you i'm a goddamn menace #morgan #salcedo