#but imma be a brave soldier 🫡🫡🫡

[save-the-villainous-cat]

Make the fluffiest and spiciest hero x villain you can. This is a challenge.

Smut.

Raindrops drummed against the window by the time the hero came home. It wasn’t like them to be late, they rather risked the embarrassing sprint to catch the bus than be late for their usual dinner time but today, traffic had been everything but kind and work was aggrieving them as so often. Days became slow and steady; boring and absolutely despicable with the prospect of falling into bed alone.

Ever since the villain had left for business a few months ago, the hero found themselves in a hole they’d dug secretly. So unnoticeable at first with the tiniest hint that something was wrong not being enough for them to actually wake up and see the pain they were in.

Mad at the disruption, they threw their bag full of bloody and sweaty uniforms into a corner, certain that they would start screaming if their mind would think about work for another second. With just as much enthusiasm, they let themselves fall onto the couch and stared at the ceiling, their breath heavy. As their mind wandered to the villain, as so often, they felt a stinging hungriness that settled into their stomach.

The hero was the only person the villain truly liked. No matter if it was on the battlefield or in bed, the hero had noticed a perfected protectiveness the villain let slip occasionally that made them feel safe and sound. The question why them was always complicated and on some days, the hero felt quite replaceable — maybe because of past relationships, maybe because of anxiety in general, they could never really tell — without the villain giving them any reason to.

Evidently, the absence hurt more than the fights. It was oh so much worse than the screaming and crying and breaking down in the bathroom alone. Because when that really did happen, the villain always managed to talk the hero into opening the door to be held. Comfort was difficult for the villain. Words never really reached their true meaning, emotions couldn’t be explained steadily but they didn’t need all of that. There were times when the villain only hugged the hero and let them cry into their shoulder.

That was enough.

The villain’s broad shoulders could feel like heaven.

When the hero realised they were drifting off into a very sad and distant memory like someone under hypnosis, they snapped out of it, clearing their throat, and ordered the takeout they were craving.

It wasn’t until 11pm that they actually got to eat anything which explained the headache but not the melancholy. Decaying on their couch, trying to read, they found themselves bored to death. They debated if they should just go to bed but they figured another lonely night would (once again) keep them awake for hours. So instead, they skipped through various television shows that burned their last brain cells.

Around one in the morning, the temperature in their apartment dropped significantly, making the tiny hairs on the hero’s spine shoot up. They could see their own breath when they exhaled and they knew — hoped, rather — that it was what they thought it was.

They turned off the TV, blinking the grogginess out of their eyes. Familiarity surrounded them, drenched them in deep longing and as they stood up, searching for their lover, they felt the cold fingertips touch the sensitive skin of their lower back under their shirt.

“Jesus—” Jerking around violently, the hero froze as their eyes met the villain’s. Their features softened. “What took you so long?”

A dangerous ecstasy consumed them from head to toe, ate them raw and left no hair, no bones. The hero was head over heels, completely obsessed with their nemesis and they were, by god, not gonna do anything about it in a million years.

This was their idiot. Their person.

“Is traffic a poor excuse?” the villain asked, crossing arms in front of their chest. Every time the villain tilted their head, the hero could feel their own self-composure crumble.

“You can teleport,” the hero reminded them. A soft smile answered.

“Doesn’t mean I abhor road trips. There’s little space in a car.” The hero’s eyebrows bunched.

“What does that mean?”

“Limited possibilities regarding your position,” the villain said. They looked quite proud of themselves. “I like challenging you. Figuring out your limits.”

The insinuation made the hero blush and as so often, they felt like a sinner walking into a church. Sometimes they wondered if they would burst into flames if they kissed the villain one more time. Being greedy and sleeping with the enemy was wrong but falling in love with them?

Understanding their motives a little too well? That was a free ticket to hell.

“I missed you,” the hero said tenderly. A sarcastic laugh was all the villain managed.

“You missed my body.”

“I missed you.”

Silence. Two pairs of eyes staring into each other a bit too deeply. It was the kind of stare the villain gave them when they edged the hero to a climax. They loved to observe, loved to see the hero’s reactions, loved to feel them.

“You’re rude. Didn’t even knock.” The villain hummed and averted their eyes hastily, almost as if they were embarrassed.

“Sorry.” They took a step forward and snatched the hero’s wrist. Slowly, they led the palm of their hand to their face and closed their eyes. The villain drowned in the touch just as much as the hero: leaning into it, kissing the hero’s hand gently and mumbling words like so soft gave them away.

“I don’t have to stitch you up again, do I?” the hero asked eventually but the villain’s hands were already sliding down their forearms, finding their waist too easily. At this point, it was simple muscle memory. The villain knew where to touch and more importantly with which pressure.

“No, I was careful. I knew I’d get an earful if I wasn’t.” Their hand found the hero’s ass and squeezed gently. It made the hero almost jump. “I’ve been good, I promise.”

“That’s for me to decide, isn’t it?” The hero felt their pulse rushing through their veins. Almost there. Only a few inches and the villain would kiss them. They crucified themselves in their mind.

“Judge, jury and executioner,” the villain purred. They leaned in and their warm breath tickled the skin of the hero’s neck, the tip of their nose brushed the shell of the hero’s ear, forcing a needy heat into the vulnerable spot between the hero’s legs. “Condemn me.”

“I—” Before the hero could respond, the villain pushed them back into the couch and kissed them sweetly. Their mouth was still closed and it could’ve been viewed as very innocent if it wasn’t for the villain’s fingers gliding under the hero’s shirt.

“No.” The hero pulled back with their hands on the villain’s chest. Putting more distance between them wasn’t what they wanted but they needed to make one thing very clear. For a split second, the villain looked horrified. “I get on top today.”

“What?”

“No answer from you for months. No texts, no calls — nothing.” Now it was their turn to cross their arms in front of their chest. Surprisingly, the pounding of their heart helped with the words, made the trail of thought a straight line instead of a whirlpool of words.

“I apologise, I didn’t know you’d—”

“I don’t want an apology. I want you to suffer.” Now, the villain looked concerned but they didn’t have time to say anything. They got flipped around, their back being pressed into the soft couch.

With a mean precision the hero had learnt from the villain, they rocked their hips carefully. Skin rubbing against clothes and clothes rubbing against clothes rubbing against skin — the villain moaned sweetly as their fingers pressed into the hero’s hips. A cruel satisfaction came over them as they watched the villain’s expression. Just a few movements and the criminal was completely under their control.

“Fuck…” Their eyes were closed and their head thrown back, completely caught off guard. Why the hero’s brain drew parallels to a fallen angel wasn’t important. It was important that it was right. They looked like some kind of saint. Something so unholy and untouchable that you wouldn’t hear from them for months.

“Never realised you can be such a good whore for me,” the hero whispered and as they saw the blown-up pupils of their lover, they began to truly enjoy this torture. “You’re always doing the work, always so eager to please. I should’ve known…”

“Please—” The villain’s usually cold body had become a heat pack, making even the hero sweat. Soon enough, the villain’s clothes fell to the ground and as the hero stared at the villain’s bare chest, tiny drops of sweat on them, they learnt something about themselves.

They wanted to lick it up. So they did. They just took what they wanted, what they needed.

The villain moaned pathetically and pulled on the hero’s hair but the hero didn’t stop there. Mouth and tongue travelled down the villain’s stomach in a low and teasing pace which the hero would use later on the villain for the whole night.

“You’re always so spoiled,” the hero said. They bit into the villain’s hip. “But I’m gonna teach you to be nice. I’ll edge you until you learn.”