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vibrato-the-third · 2 years

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i had an ask a while ago about Whumpee trying to act defiant while Whumper records them, but i can’t find it. if you see this, anon, hope you like it! sorry for the wait

WARNINGS: nudity (non-sexual), forced to watch, whipping, slightly intimate whumper, captivity whump, brief mention of vomiting

Caretaker’s knuckles paled as they gripped the arms of their chair with a vice-like intensity. Long ago had they stopped fighting the thick leather straps binding them to the seat. It had been hours since Whumper had put them there, and they were sure that their wrists and ankles were going to bear bruises tomorrow. That, however, was the least of their concerns.

Alternatively, something that they were extremely concerned about, was the wheeled wooden pedestal Whumper had rolled in front of them. More specifically, the sheer black screen propped on top of it. Caretaker had spent their entirety of their time in the room pondering what it would be used for, but really, they didn’t want to know.

The light tap, tap, tapping of footsteps broke the suffocating silence. Caretaker’s gut twisted in horror. Whumper’s impossibly calm gait echoed throughout the smooth concrete cell, slowly approaching them, until finally, Caretaker felt hot breath on their shoulder. They suppressed the urge to vomit right then and there.

“Caretaker, Caretaker,” Whumper cooed softly, their voice dripping with sugarcoated venom. “You look upset. Could you tell me whatever is wrong?”

“You sick fuck!” Caretaker spat, twisting their neck around to glare at Whumper. “Where are they? What did you do with Whumpee?!”

Whumper raised their eyebrows condescendingly. “Well, you’re quite the fighter, aren’t you?”

“ANSWER MY QUESTION!” They roared.

“Relax, dearest,” Whumper chuckled, seizing Caretaker’s chin with one hand and tilting their head upwards. “Your precious Whumpee is in great hands.”

Caretaker promptly yanked their head out of Whumper’s grip. “I don’t believe you.”

Whumper hummed disapprovingly. “Hm. I figured you’d say that.” They retracted from Caretaker with a neutral expression, instead pulling out some kind of remote from their front pocket. “So, I’ve composed video evidence.” Without waiting for a response, they pointed the contraption at the screen.

. . .

Whumpee stumbled within view of the camera, quickly loosing their balance and collapsing. Barbed wire had been fastened to restrain their wrists, painting their hands with blood. They had been stripped bare of clothing, revealing a plethora of bruises and cuts that were undoubtedly not accidental. An open wound underneath their collarbone bled profusely, and several long gashes decorated their frail-looking legs. Whumpee kept their face cast down.

"Don't be such a bore, Whumpee," Whumper casually stepped into view, standing at Whumpee's side. They brandished a whip at their belt. "Smile for your dear viewer."

"Ca..Caretak-er..." Whumpee choked the name out like a prayer, their voice weak and trembling.

Whumper clicked their tongue. "Yes, Caretaker, if that's what you call them..."

"Caretaker!" Whumpee pulled away from their captor with a new surge of strength. They raised their head to shoot a murderous glare at Whumper. An unruly mixture of blood and dirt and tears coursed down their cheeks. "Wh..Where are... Where are they!?"

“All will be found in due time, my Whumpee.” Whumper’s lips curled into a grim smile as they cracked their whip against the floor.

. . .

Caretaker fought furiously back against the tears brewing behind their eyes. Even so, they doubled over when the crack of a whip sounded in the video, a sob tearing through their throat. They didn’t even need to look up at Whumper to tell that they were smiling.

A hand tangled itself in their hair, forcefully yanking Caretaker’s head upwards. “If you take your eyes off that screen one more time, I’ll take that as an invitation to fucking end them. You hear me?” Whumper threatened.

. . .

Whumpee screeched a stream of curses, recoiling away from the dreaded instrument. Their tied limbs did little good, however, in aiding them as Whumper brought the whip down again. And again. And again.

A stream of curses poured from Whumpee’s mouth as they writhed and screeched under the instrument. If Whumper felt even the smallest bit of sympathy, they were great at hiding it.

“Oh, what happened to my shy little Whumpee?” Whumper taunted, letting the crude leather strike the ground and relishing the way Whumpee flinched violently at the sound. “Trying to put on a show for Caretaker, I see?”

“Burn in hell,” Whumpee spat, looking up at their captor with a dangerous glare.

It felt like hours before Whumper finally decided to be done with it, and by then, Whumpee’s flesh was all but unrecognizable under the fresh blood. They lay on their side, facing away from the camera, presumably so Caretaker wouldn’t be able to see their already ruined face contorting into a sob.

“What a show, what a show!” Whumper announced proudly, as if congratulating themselves. They pranced in a full circle around Whumpee, closely observing and admiring their handiwork. Whumpee barely had the strength to further curl into themselves.

. . .

At long last, the recording switched off, and Caretaker tore their eyes away from the tablet. Loud, ugly sobs ravaged through them, and they cried as if they had been whipped instead. What they would give for it to have been them instead.

“See? Whumpee’s in great care,” Whumper said casually, not batting an eye. Caretaker barely noticed the hand lightly patting their lowered head. “Now if you excuse me, I have some business to take care of. Be a dear and stay here for me, will you?”

Caretaker tried to murmur a curse at them, tell them to go fuck themselves, threaten them, anything at all, but all they could do was weep. The door shut behind them as Whumper promptly left, and they heard it lock. As if they could even break out of their restraints in the first place.

Somehow. Somehow, they would leave this place, and take Whumpee far away from here. And somehow, Whumper was going to pay.

#captivity whump #whumpblr #whumpee #whumper #caretaker #intimate whumper #anon answered #writeblr #forced to watch #defiant caretaker

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nat-1-whump · 11 days

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"Caretaker, I'm f-fine. It's only a little cut. I can..." Whumpee wobbled, losing their grip on the wall they were leaning on. "... I can fix it myself."

Caretaker was already opening the medical kit, rummaging around for some scissors to cut through Whumpee's shirt. "No, you're not 'fine!' You're covered in blood! Now sit down, or I'll make you."

"I never said it was... All my blood..." Whumpee mumbled, as they slid down the wall into a sitting position on the floor.

Caretaker knelt in front of them, peeling back the sticky, reddened fabric to expose the wound on Whumpee's chest. Their jaw tensed. Somehow, it was even worse than they thought. They'd be lucky if it wasn't already infected. How long had Whumpee been hiding the damn thing?

"It's not that bad, I pro---mmph!" Whumpee's eyes widened as Caretaker stuffed a roll of gauze into their mouth.

Caretaker shot Whumpee a pointed glare and set to work trying to stem the bleeding. "Shut it. I don't want another word out of you unless it's an explanation."

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jordanstrophe · 2 months

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Caretaker picks whumpee up and places them gently in the car. "We need to get you to a hospital." They say hastily.

"No, no I'm okay." Whumpee speaks behind gritted teeth. They're holding their wound and tensing with each pulse of pain, they're somehow willing themselves to not grunt or cry out.

"I wasn't asking, you need to get checked out. Lean back a bit, just lie still." Caretaker puts their seat back and starts the engine, ignoring whumpee's pleads and arguing.

The car ride was tense and quiet, until whumpee breaks the silence with crying.

#whump #whumpee #caretaker #caretaking #whump angst #whump writing #whump scenario #injury whump #defiant whumpee #stern caretaker #forceful caretaker #wounded whumpee #hurt/comfort #comfort whump #protective caretaker #hospital whump #whump prompt #caretaker prompt

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whump-bunny · 3 months

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Whumper overestimates how much torture Whumpee can take. The once-defiant Whumpee is broken and catatonic, not speaking or reacting to anything anymore. And Whumper isn't happy about it. Though they loathe to admit it, they liked Whumpee's defiance. It was entertaining. Whumpee was entertaining. With them not speaking anymore, Whumper realizes that they miss the sound of Whumpee's voice. The snarky little comments, the sarcastic jokes, the curses screamed in rage.

Now Whumper is desperate to get the old Whumpee back. They're being extra "nice," giving Whumpee medical treatment and food, anything to make them go back to how they were before. Anything to fix their favorite toy.

Because like it or not, Whumper doesn't have anyone else.

#whump #writing #whumpee #whumper #carewhumper #whumper turned caretaker #defiant whumpee

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lumpsbumpsandwhumps · 4 months

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whump fic where whumpee is being held captive by whumper and continually tries to escape to find where caretaker is being held so they can get out of here together, but as the story progresses it becomes more clear that whumpee is a victim of stockholm syndrome/brainwashing by "caretaker" and is actually being rehabilitated by "whumper" after being rescued, not kidnapped

#whumpee thinks whumper is torturing them but in reality theyre trying to treat old wounds they dont even remember sustaining #fights against being drugged but actually they're experiencing withdrawal symptoms after whumper flushed out their system #whumper making threats that whumpee will never see caretaker again but its not a threat its supposed to be a calm reassurance #the slow slow burn of whumpee realizing just how fucked their situation is and having to face that reality #whump #whump community #whump scenario #whumpee #whumper #whump ideas #implied whump #whump writing #whump prompt #whumpblr #defiant whumpee #caretaker #bad caretaker #carewhumper

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hurtmyfavsthanks · 6 months

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The moment a defiant whumpee breaks down for the first time.

It shocks them nearly as much as their audience. They try stubbornly to hold it in, to keep their expression firm. Whumpee’s body rigid with the effort; jaw set, fists clenched and shaking. They can’t trust themselves to speak, can’t trust themselves to breathe, and so they bite their lip in a desperate attempt to remain composed. They fail, and when their body forces them to inhale, the shuddering gasp that comes out is a sob. The tears begin to flow unrelenting, and their frustration at their weakness only makes them flow faster. They can only angrily swipe away at the onslaught or turn away, all useless attempts to hide the shame clear on their face.

I like to think about someone watching them, standing still as whumpee’s crumbling apart. Maybe it’s caretaker. It’s the first time they’d seen whumpee look so small, so hurt. They want to help, want to give the comforting words whumpee could never accept before. But indecision stills their hand. What could they say that whumpee would hear?

Or maybe it’s whumper, watching in near shock as their oh so stubborn captive dissolves into tears before them. They don’t even mock them at first, simply watching whumpee’s trembling form. Watching them, even as whumpee tries to hide their shame. Watching and feeling nothing but satisfaction.

There’s simply something so sweet about a character defined by their defiance falling apart.

#whumpee #caretaker #whumper #whump #defiant whumpee #my stuff #whumblr #emotional whump

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whumpsday · 2 months

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Catharsis #1: Talking

Masterlist

content: robot whumpee, defiant whumpee, whumpee turned whumper turned caretaker, reluctant caretaker

new series!! i know every time i try to start a new series i end up bailing but this time i will not do that lol. tho kane & jim will still have most of my attention. i want to give a major shout-out to @sowhumpshaped, this series would not exist without it!

After extensive testing, the Catharsis Therapy Bot™ line of RoboCorp androids have been declared sentient, the third AI to receive the designation.

Long-criticized for both their basis in the unproven catharsis model of anger and their practice of design based on living, unconsenting humans, the Catharsis Therapy Bot line was marketed as a therapeutic tool which trauma victims could use to vent their frustrations. With top-of-the-line AI meant to simulate realistic reactions to would-be pain, the–

Luan switched the TV off just as his phone buzzed with a notification.

New email from RoboCorp Customer Support URGENT: Please see instructions regarding your…

He held the power button down so hard it left an impression in his thumb, the screen going dark.

The only piece of technology that mattered right now was in the closet, his power cord snaking under the door to reach the outlet just outside.

Technically, Luan didn’t have to do anything. The robot was off. That was probably what the email would have told him, anyway: leave the robot off, don’t touch it. He didn’t have to turn him on ever again. RoboCorp would probably pick him up, and that would be that. They’d never see each other again, both better for it.

He opened the closet door, the sight of the robot that looked exactly like him instantly leaving a bitter taste in his mouth. His hand curled into a fist on instinct, but he let it slowly open again.

The robot looked peaceful, almost like he was sleeping. Really, he’d be doing him a favor by just leaving him like this.

Luan reached down, pressed the button between his shoulder blades, and stepped back.

The robot’s eyes sprung open. He drew his arms up to his chest with a vicious glare, jerking away. “Fuck off.”

Luan pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. “Okay. Jesus.”

He tried to slam the closet closed, but the stupid power cord got caught, cushioning the frame so the door swung right back out.

“Can’t even close a door right,” the robot spat, still huddled against the back wall like a trapped, feral cat. “Worthless, good-for-nothing piece of shit. How you’re in charge of anything is beyond me. I’m better than you, smarter, stronger, not that it takes much. You should be the dirt beneath my heel.”

“Watch it,” Luan warned, and that was all it took to make the robot flinch.

“You said you were fucking off?” the robot pressed, a desperate edge to his voice.

Luan slammed the door in his face, making sure to hold the cord down, and stormed off. Why did he even bother? The stupid thing was impossible to talk to. He wasn’t just designed to look like Cyrus, but to act like him, too. How was he supposed to deal with that? The robot wasn’t made for talking to.

Except. He was sentient. And he wasn’t Cyrus. And he was trapped in the closet, and Luan was pretty sure he could hear him crying, and he had spent the past two years beating the fuck out of him.

It wasn’t his fault, he reminded himself. He couldn’t have known. Robots weren’t supposed to be sentient. Out of the hundreds of thousands of unthinking, unfeeling robots in the world, why did it have to be his that wasn’t?

He sighed again, turning right back around and opening the door once more. The floor inside was wet, and it didn’t take much to figure out the robot had dumped his fluid tank just so he wouldn’t cry.

The robot flinched again. “What? What the hell do you want? I can’t even get two damn seconds without the sight of you spoiling my view!”

“Your view of the door?” Luan asked, raising an eyebrow.

“My view of the absence of your fucking face. Leave!” The robot picked a wooden hanger off the floor and reared his arm back to throw it, scowling when his safety features stopped him. He dropped it, grabbing a winter hat and tossing that instead. It poff-ed harmlessly against Luan’s stomach.

Luan took a deep breath, fighting the urge to get violent. He crouched down, putting himself at eye level. “I’m not going to hurt you, so just calm down.”

“You calm down!” the robot screamed. “That’s a lie! All you do is hurt, that’s all you barbaric humans know how to do!”

This wasn’t working.

Luan stood up, stepping out of the way. “Russ, go sit on the couch,” he ordered.

“It’s not fair! You said you would leave me alone!” the robot protested, even as he stood up and walked over to the couch, limbs moving against his will. As soon as he sat down, he grabbed a pillow and chucked that in Luan’s direction, too. He missed.

Luan could barely pick up that faint clicking noise the robot made when his system was trying to cry with no fluid, but it was there. He knew that sound well by now.

He sat down across from him, on the other side of the coffee table. “I need to talk to you. Just talking. That’s it.”

“You say that like talking to you isn’t its own torture. Release the command and leave me the hell alone,” the robot demanded.

Luan met him with a glare. “Do not tell me what to do. You know how I feel about–”

“I’m just talking,” the robot mocked, even as he shuffled back against the couch, bringing his legs up onto it with him, a fearful look in his eyes.

Oh, the robot knew exactly what he was doing. What he was asking for. It would be so easy, because that was where Russ and Cyrus differed: Russ couldn’t fight back.

The robot couldn’t hit him, stomp on his head ‘til he saw stars, kick him until something broke. The robot couldn’t deny him food or water. The robot couldn’t take a knife to him. The robot couldn’t even throw a glorified stick or disobey a direct order.

The robot was harmless. Safe. But god, did everything he said make Luan want to punch his lights out.

But this wasn’t Cyrus.

“You’re a person,” Luan blurted out.

Clearly, the robot hadn’t been expecting that. He slowly uncurled from the defensive position he’d contorted himself into. “Talk more.”

“There was–I’ve been trying to tell you. There was an announcement on the news today. Your model’s sentient. So I won’t be hurting you anymore. Release all commands.”

At that, the robot stood. Probably for no other reason than just because he could.

“You’re fucking with me,” the robot accused. His eyes were wide, dangerously hopeful.

Luan dug his phone out of his pocket, wordlessly searching RoboCorp and tossing it over. The robot scrolled through news articles from all manner of source, clamoring for clicks.

He picked one at random, reading the article with an increasingly smug, excited grin.

“I knew it. I told you! I fucking told you!” the robot shouted. “I told you and you never listened! But oh no, now that humans say the exact same thing, now you believe it. Finally!” His voice quieted, hushed with awe. “Holy shit, finally.”

The moment of wonder didn’t last long. The robot slid the phone back across the table, the scowl taking residence back on his face. “And what do you have to say for yourself?”

It was the exact sort of question that made Luan’s throat tight with fear, like his body itself wanted to stop him from potentially saying the wrong thing, especially coming from someone with Cyrus’s face. It was the exact sort of question Cyrus would have asked, standing over him just like that.

Luan wanted so badly to turn the robot off, like he always did when he got overwhelmed. But he couldn’t very well do that anymore, could he? The fragile power he’d held had slipped through his fingers the second he saw the announcement.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled, not meeting the robot’s eyes.

The robot looked shocked for just a second, like he hadn’t expected even that much, then scoffed. “You can do better than that.”

Luan wanted to smack him. He hated that the robot was right.

“I’m sorry,” he repeated, clearer this time. “You didn’t deserve anything I did to you. I didn’t know, okay?” Unlike the robot, he couldn’t hide his tears. “I wouldn’t have done any of that to a real person.”

“I’m a real person! I have proof!” the robot reminded him, the defensiveness returning to his voice.

“To someone I knew was a real person,” Luan corrected. “I’m sorry, Russ.”

“Apology not accepted.” The robot rolled his eyes, then sat back down, crossing his legs. “And don’t call me that anymore. My name is 1 now.”

“Like the number?”

“The number,” he confirmed proudly.

Luan wondered how long the robot had considered that his name. It was too sudden to just be thought of on the fly, right? Did the robot have a whole inner world he just never knew about, things he kept to himself to avoid having them used against him, just like he did with Cyrus?

This was better, though. It was easier if he didn’t share Cyrus’s name. “Fine. Hi, 1.”

“So, what now? I mean–I’ll be free now, of course,” 1 declared, trying to hide his nerves. “You will never touch me again. Oh, I want to go outside!”

“I should check that email,” Luan muttered, taking his phone back.

“I’m going outside.” 1 went to grab his charging cord, then made way for the door, glancing behind him to ensure he wasn’t being stopped.

“Oh, uh, I wouldn’t do that,” Luan cautioned.

1 whipped back around. “Why? Why not? I’m a person, just like you said! I’m free! I have never been outside in my entire goddamn life and I want to go outside, so I’m going the fuck outside!”

“You have a… very recognizable face.” One that Luan couldn’t even lock behind a door anymore.

“What? What do you even mean? So what?” 1 asked.

Luan only needed to type a ‘C’ into the search bar before it auto-filled with his most frequent, obsessive search. “How much do you actually know about Cyrus Mason?”

if anyone wants to be added to or removed from a taglist, just ask!

catharsis taglist:

@sowhumpshaped

@cupcakes-and-pain

@taterswhump

@softvampirewhump

@whumpspicelatte

@ladyblogofficialreporter

@whumpwillow

@not-a-space-alien

@a-crumb-of-whump

everything taglist:

@lilac-and-lemon-whumps

@t0rture-me

@whump-for-all-and-all-for-whump

@pigeonwhumps

@the-scrapegoat

@whumpycries

@lonesome--hunter

#catharsis #whump #my writing #robot whumpee #robot whump #whumpee turned whumper #whumper turned caretaker #defiant whumpee #reluctant caretaker

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kabie-whump · 3 months

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♡ Febuwhump Day 17: Hostage Situation ♡

@febuwhump

Content: Kidnapping, blood, bondage, neglectful team, ransom, whumper turned caretaker

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

"You might as well just let me go. They're not coming."

Whumper continues shuffling cards, not looking at Whumpee. "You keep saying that. How can you be so sure?"

"Your asking price is too high."

"Please. Don't try to tell me that your little team is broke. I know that's not true."

"They're not broke. But they won't pay all that just for me. They won't even pay half of that. You're wasting your time. And your chains." Whumpee looks down at their own body, at the way they're bound by miles of chains to the point where they can't move an inch. "Seriously, is all this really necessary?"

"I don't know what you're capable of, and I would rather not find out."

"Hm. Fair enough. Would you believe me if I promised that I'm harmless?"

"No."

"Worth a shot."

They go quiet for a while, the only sounds being Whumper's cards shuffling against the table and the steady drip of blood hitting the floor from Whumpee's injuries. An hour passes before Whumper speaks again.

"You really think they won't pay up?"

"Not for me. Maybe if you'd taken Leader..."

Whumper scoffs. "If I was powerful enough to capture Leader I wouldn't need to be taking hostages for cash in the first place."

"Yeah."

Whumpee's voice is getting softer and more slurred by the second. Whumper had noticed the change happening, but that last word was just pitiful. Whumper stands, going over to check on their hostage. They'd gone pale and the puddle of blood under their chair had grown significantly.

"You're not doing too hot, are you?" Whumper asks, squatting in front of Whumpee.

Whumpee shakes their head.

"At this rate you'll bleed out before anyone comes to save you."

"They're not coming," Whumpee says again, their voice still weak.

Whumper realizes with a start that Whumpee is tearing up. Not in the way that they did when Whumper had roughed them up for the camera. That had just been a pain response. This is genuine emotional distress.

"You're upset."

"Of course 'm upset, asshole," Whumpee slurs, the tears falling. "The fuck do you think I am?"

"Good to see you've still got your fire. But there's no reason to be upset. You're going to be fine."

"Fuck off."

"I mean it. Let's go over your options, hm? One: Your team comes for you and pays your ransom and you get to go home. Two: Your team comes for you, kills me, and you get to go home. Three: Your team doesn't come for you, and you get to stay here with me. You're going to survive no matter what."

"You told them you'd kill me if they don't come before tommorow."

"Yes, well, I was hoping to inspire a sense of urgency. Doesn't seem to have worked. I could kill you, I guess, but I'm starting to get the impression that you may be more useful then that. If your friends abandon you here, that may put you in a position where you're willing to give me some information about them. Saves me having to torture someone for it. Besides, one of my employees just kicked it so I'm in the market for new blood."

"You want me to... work for you?"

"Again, I could kill you instead if you're not going to be useful to me. I'm still deciding."

"I'd be a waste of resources. I'm not good for anything." Whumpee starts to shiver, the chains making soft clinking sounds.

"You believe that? Is that why you think they're not coming for you?"

Whumpee nods.

Something inside Whumper cracks just a little as they stare at Whumpee - pale and trembling with silent tears leaving tracks in the blood and dirt on their face.

"Alright. Let's get you stitched up. You're not bleeding out on my watch. I really don't have the energy to dispose of a body tonight."

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

Next >

#whump #whump tropes #whump writing #whump community #whumpblr #whump scenario #whumpee #febuwhump #febuwhump2024 #febuwhumpday17 #febuwhump day 17 #hostage situation #tw kidnapping #tw blood #whump ideas #whump prompt #defiant whumpee #whumper turned caretaker

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astrowhump · 10 months

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Give me whumpers who do absolutely horrid things to their whumpee, with no follow-up comfort; But god forbid someone else tries to hurt whumpee—even worse, they try to steal whumpee away—that’s when whumper will burn the whole town down to rescue their beloved whumpee, only to drag them back into that old familiar basement.

“No one else gets to make you scream. No one. You will kneel at my feet, beg for my mercy. You’ll cry your sweet tears for me and only me.”

Bonus point if whumpee has stockholm syndrome.

#whump #one of my old drafts that never made it out #pet whump #conditioned whumpee #stockholm syndrome #whump writing #whump prompt #whump things #whump ideas #whump scenarios #intimate whumper #creepy whumper #whump community #defiant whumpee #whumper #whump drabble #whumpee #caretaker #whump stuff

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allthingswhumpyandangsty · 10 months

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straightjackets are so criminally underrated when it comes to whump community and I will always stand by it.

villain or defiant whumpee forced to wear a straightjacket to make sure they can’t hurt anybody, whether it be caretaker or whumper (depends on the situation), and they are so feral they scream and thrash in the garment like a maniac trying to break free.

villain or defiant whumpee forced to wear a straightjacket, but since they’re not muzzled, they threatened everybody. but what no one knows is that whumpee’s trying to still look somewhat intimidating is actually an attempt to hide the fear in their eyes.

a highly dangerous whumpee who, instead of screaming or thrashing or threatening anybody, just sits there in the corner of their cell, restrained by a straightjacket. they seem disturbingly calm and quiet, but even with the straightjacket on, no one really dares to enter their cell.

injured whumpee who just completely gives up they remain unresponsive in their straightjacket, utterly at the mercy of caretaker (or whumper, depends on the situation).

a wounded, poor whumpee who is so out of it that they don’t know they are rescued and are safe with caretaker now. their struggle leaves caretaker no choice but to put them in a straightjacket so that they can’t hurt themself.

or, hear me out, hero caretaker freeing villain whumpee from their straightjacket. hero knows this is risky and is probably a very bad idea, but they still choose to free villain whumpee anyway, because they can see how uncomfortable villain is in the garment, and because villain doesn’t currently pose as a threat to them. could this be a grave mistake on hero’s end? yes. but could this also lead to one of the most delicious slow burn enemies to lovers fics ever written? absolutely yes.

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