#hero villain whump

[chaotic-orphan]

Concussed villain gets kidnapped?

Villain showed up on Hero’s doorstep, heaving in breaths as they slammed their fist on the door. Their arm was ridiculously heavy, and it took everything in them to throw it mercilessly against the wooden door. The effects were meagre knocks that Villain prayed Hero would hear.

If Hero was even home.

What if they were working tonight? Fuck, why didn’t Villain think of that? Their head was pounding so they rested their forehead against the cool wood, letting out a shaky, shallow breath, trying not to anger the fire in their ribs. Blood continued to trickle from their hairline down over their eyes and dripping onto their cheeks.

That wasn’t good.

They heard footsteps behind the door and Villain almost broke down there and then, relief flooding them like a tsunami of feeling, washing away everything that was keeping Villain upright. Tears poured down their cheeks at the thought of safety, hero looking after them… their hero. They could tell them about Superhero’s plans.

They could tell them… Villain put a hand against the door and pushed themselves backwards. They would’ve fallen if not for the arm that snaked around their waist. Villain blinked dumbly and glanced down. Arm around—?

Before they cry out or scream in warning a hand clamped over their mouth and Villain was ripped away from the door and into the shadows. Villain thrashed, struggling in their attacker’s grip, all their screams and cries muffled to nothing but silent pleas.

The door opened and Villain’s struggles renewed but Hero wouldn’t be able to see them from here. Hero wouldn’t know they were even there!

“Hello?” Hero asked into the darkness and Villain whimpered against the hands holding them in an iron cage. Villain threw their body forward, back, trying to dislodge their attackers arms but they didn’t budge even a little.

“If you want Hero to continue to draw breath, Villain, you’ll come quietly.”

Villain froze at the voice. That was… Superhero… the reason why Villain was in this state in the first place. Villain’s struggles renewed as Hero stepped out of their house. If they could even sense something was amiss so close to them then they would investigate. Hero would have to investigate, right? And Hero was in danger too!

Villain had to warn them, they had to!

“Hello?” Hero asked, a note of agitation creeping into their voice.

I’m here! Villain wanted to scream. Hero please! I’m right here.

A pinch in their neck and Villain’s fruitless struggles seized, their blood running cold. They flinched as cold liquid was pushed into their neck. No… no, no, no, no. “That’s it, Villain,” Superhero whispered. “Don’t fight it.”

The hazy world blurred even more and Villain fell back against Superhero’s chest, the fight leaving them almost instantly. What did Superhero drug them with?

Their eyelids shut and Villain forced them back open, with a gargantuan effort. The last thing they saw was Hero frown and close the door before their entire world faded to black in the arms of their enemy.

[ownlittleuniverse]

scenario #2 - the hero’s in deep trouble

warning: wounds, implied violence

“What happened?”

”Nothing… and why would you care?” the hero snapped, having no patience for the villain's sudden kindness.

First, they broke their body yesterday during their fight, making the hero look weak in front of their team. Then they break into their apartment through the window, and to wrap it all up in a nice little bow, they had the audacity to ask if the hero was okay. Like they cared about them.

The villain slowly walked over to the hero leaning on their bedroom door. They softly brushed their hands over the hero’s wounds, making the hero wince. The hero hated the way their heart was beating in the villain’s presence.

The villain sighed, slowly lifting the hero’s arm, taking a disinfectant cloth from the first aid kit and quickly dabbing it over the angry bloody skin.

The hero sucked in a breath, and it scared them. Not the pain, no. The villain being so abnormally kind.

The worst part, it felt… good.

The hero sunk into the wood door, their eyes watching the villain’s handiwork closely. The villain's soft fingers stroked their arm as they tended the hero, leaving goosebumps all over, making their breath hitch.

The hero wasn’t sure if the villain was doing it to distract from the pain, or maybe they didn’t even realize they were unconsciously comforting them.

”Let me take care of you,” the villain murmured, still cleaning the wounds and looking them dead in the eyes.

The hero wanted them to. Let the same person who gave them these wounds clean them until the hero sank into their comfort.

They were in deep trouble.

The hero’s breath hitched, their body tensing when the villain's hand swiftly grabbed the hero’s chin. The only thing that didn’t completely scare the hero was that their grip was firm but still gentle.

”Then afterwards—”

The hero’s mouth fell slightly open as the villain came closer and closer to their face, their fingers rubbing back and forth.

Their eyes had that glint in them that killed. All the amusement, all the calmness from before had drained from their face. There was only anger left. The hero gulped.

”—You can enlighten me about the handprint on your face that I didn’t leave.”

[whump-a-la-mode]

Caretaking From The Enemy

The rest of Whumpee’s team has been wiped out, leaving them alone-- And on the run. The longer they run, however, the worse things become. They’re hurt, hungry, barely able to walk

When Whumpee is at last captured, they fight with everything they have left. Of course, that’s not much. Their wrists have grown so thin that they barely fit in the handcuffs

Whumpee wakes up, wondering why they aren’t dead, yet. Do their enemies have something worse in mind?

Yet, when someone comes to visit them, they bring no cattle prod and no whip. Rather, they have food, and pills for Whumpee to take. They ask how Whumpee is feeling-- Do they need anything?

What kind of trap is this?

Starving as they are, Whumpee won’t touch the food, and certainly not the pills.

“Getting better isn’t a choice. Either you eat, or it gets forced down your throat.”

Whumpee eats. They’re absolutely starving, and the food is the best thing they’ve ever tasted. The pills, too, dull the ache in their body

At last, Whumpee is able to rest. Their sleep is wracked by nightmares. When they awake, one of their greatest enemies is standing over them

“You were making a lot of noise. I was worried.”

The rest of the night, they manage to sleep peacefully

The next day, however, there is no peace. After breakfast, they’re taken from their cell. Carried from their cell, in fact. The vulnerability makes them want to scream, but they’re just so tired...

Whumpee is taken too see the team’s doctor. They fight the care at every step, squirming and struggling to escape. It takes half of the team to hold them down so that their wounds can be treated

But why is the enemy treating their wounds? Why do they care?

Over the next few days, Whumpee begins to feel... Comfortable. Almost. It feels wrong, relaxing in the base of the enemy.

But how long until the enemies show their true colors?

[definitelynotamouse]

“I am a weapon,” Whumpee muttered, “I can and will crush anything and anyone in my way.” His voice barely a whisper.

His grip tightened on his sword, he repeated his words louder now, “I can and will destroy anything in my path.”

As he pointed his sword towards the Hero’s team. His hands began shaking uncontrollably, betraying his confident stance.

Even though Whumpee feared facing the Hero’s team, the thought of coming back to Whumper empty-handed terrified��� him even more.

[whumpprentice]

Thinking about a power suppressant drug or device that leaves a hero/ villain weak and dizzy and exhausted or has very harsh side effects . and their rival being furious about it

[writingpromptsworld]

Prompt #67

By @writingpromptsworld

When the villain woke up, they did not expect to find themselves tied to a bed, their hands and legs binded. Their eyes shot out of their sockets, eyebrows frowning, as their hands twitched by their side to be let free. Panic. They could make out a patient gown that they were wearing for reasons unknown.

They struggled against the heavy metal chain that somehow seemed to wait more by the passing second. However, it wasn’t long before footsteps could be faintly heard coming towards them. Realization.

They held their breath, frozen, and their head throbbed in response. The hero. It was the hero, with a grin well too ingrained in the villain’s head, it was impossible to erase it.

They clenched their jaw at the sight of smiling teeth, and snatched at the chains again which in response tightened, and they let out a scream.

The hero shook their head with a sigh. “Don’t. Don’t try to be free of them, they’ll only strengthen in result.” They said.

The villain stayed silent for a moment, after stopping the fumbling around. They breathed heavily, looking at the hero. “Let me go.” They said, weakly, however the hero could detect the underline of threat they were trying to seep into their words. It didn’t work.

“No. I’m having way too much fun seeing you like this. Finally under my control.” The hero mused, smirking slightly.

“Let. Me. Go.” The villain repeated themself, clenching their jaw which increased the hammering of the headache.

The hero simply sighed again, as if in disappointment. They lightly treaded the ground until they were in front of the villain. “How about you stay still and wait until the scientists come, mhmm? They should be here any moment.”

The villain’s heart raced further, fear and confusion and anger filled their eyes, and they couldn’t help but grab at the chains again in order to espace. “What do you mean?” They asked, voice high but at the same time so afraid. And if it were anyone other than the hero, they wouldn’t have detected it. The hero did, however. And they took great pleasure in it.

“They’re going to experiment on you a little. See what goes in that little head of yours.” The hero smiled, delighted.

The villain’s anger only grew, and they tried to wrestle the chains again. It didn’t help, only made them cry out in sheer pain. They threw curses at the hero. Threats, promises to destroy the hero and the city, but it wasn’t enough. The hero had left by the time the villain was too tired to fight. And they had drifted off to sleep, more like fainted of dizziness.

The drugs did work, the hero pondered, walking out of the room.

[whumpshaped]

im gonna try to explain this in the least unhinged way.

villain is a big scary powerful person. there is a whole team of heroes and they just can't defeat this one guy. but then a bigger, more powerful villain comes along, and the original villain offers a truce. they'll join the hero team and work with them to get rid of this threat.

seeing villain's powers from upclose is even more terrifying, but very useful. villain, on their own, can effortlessly demolish the enemies the hero team struggled to defeat before. it's quite... efficient, to have villain on the team. it's kind of great.

..too great.

the leader of the hero team is starting to notice that the rest of the team are getting a bit too attached. theyre flocking to villain all the time, asking for help and stuff. too quick to let their guard down around someone who's still acting like kind of an asshole and was setting buildings on fire just a month ago. the rookies the leader was trying to train are now hanging around villain, asking for tricks and tips and watching in awe whenever villain shows them something. in meetings when leader is trying to explain the plan, whenever villain has another idea, the entire team supports them more. even if villain doesnt have an idea and is just sitting there quietly, the team asks for their opinion anyway.

leader is fuming.

eventually, they defeat the bigger threat. its time for them to part ways again, and leader is eager to kick villain out of their base — but the team doesnt want to let go.

when villain gives a mocking grin and says "well, only one way to resolve this! come with me, then." several people step forward

[wolfeyedwitch]

Hand stomp for Icarus?

With Bloody Outstretched Hands, Part 12: Hand Stomp

Thank you for your patience! Have Luke having a bad day.

CW: hand whump, prejudice against fictional group (superpowers), prejudice-motivated violence

Masterlist

---

Luke was halfway through his PT exercises when Zera came into the gym like a stormcloud. He watched as they all but stomped their way over to the wall of gear while they roughly tugged off their mask. Zera ran one hand through their bright blue hair before donning a pair of boxing gloves, stalking to one of the punching bags, and beginning to attack it like it had insulted their entire family.

Luke finished his set of exercises in a state of bewildered concern. This was far from the younger hero’s normal behavior. Usually Zera was almost disgustingly peppy while in the gym. A normal day would see them bopping their head along to whatever catchy tune they had blaring in their earbuds, enthusiastically running through one of the simulations the gym had to test their teleportation skills. A bad day would have them going through weapon forms at half-speed to ensure they got everything right. Luke wasn’t sure what it would take to get his coworker in this state, and he was almost afraid to ask.

Well. He didn’t become a hero out of an abundance of self-preservation instinct. 

“What’s got you all riled up?” he asked when Zera finally stripped off one glove to grab a water bottle. “Toss me one, too?”

They took a second bottle from the fridge and lobbed it underhand across the gym. Luke caught it in both hands. Nice; the PT was really paying off. A few months back he wouldn’t have had the dexterity or coordination to make that catch.

Zera gave a smile at whatever triumphant face Luke couldn’t help but make. Then they shook their head with a grimace. “It’s Bailey,” they said, setting down their water bottle and pushing their now-sweaty hair out of their face.

It was Luke’s turn to grimace. He understood why they were keeping the villain at their med bay, but that didn’t mean he had to like it. “Are they giving you trouble?”

Zera shook their head. “No, they’re eager to tell us everything they can. Maeve is probably going to have to call the interview, because I’d bet dollars to donuts that they’d push themself way too hard trying to give us info.”

“And end up paying for it sooner rather than later,” Luke said with a nod. Concussions were a bitch, even with a healer’s help. “So they aren’t being stubborn. What’s the problem?”

Zera frowned even harder. “The problem is that this whole thing is incredibly fucked up, Luke. I knew we had PR issues, after Marcus and his apprentice, but apparently the way the villains tell it is even worse. Slipknot was apparently using the threat of us as the stick to keep Bailey in line.”

“What was the carrot, then?” he asked, coming to stand next to the younger hero.

They shrugged. “A place to belong, someone helping them out after their parents died, a chance at making a difference in the world. Take your pick.”

It was Luke’s turn to frown. 

Zera noticed. “What?”

He hesitated. Zera was a good hero, but they were still pretty young, with the naivete that came with it. 

“What? You’ve got that face again. Come on, out with it, boomer,” Zera teased.

Luke shook his head with a huff of laughter. They were right to tease; he wasn’t that much older than they were, though he felt plenty ancient on days his injuries acted up. That didn’t change the difference in experience, though. Zera still had an optimism he’d lost somewhere between his first year as a hero and his extended stay in the ICU after his attack. 

“Just…” he started, trying to get his thoughts in order. “I dunno. I can’t shake the feeling that we’re missing something. This all feels…” He broke off, unable to properly articulate it. 

Zera was already shaking their head. “Hell if I know. But they seem genuine enough. They aren’t trying to downplay anything they’ve done. If anything, they seem like they’re taking on too much accountability.”

He hummed noncommittally in response, but Zera’s words stuck with him as he headed out, leaving them to their workout. That was exactly what it was that had been bothering him. Bailey seemed guilty. They seemed like their conscience was weighing them down like Atlas.

On the one hand, that could have been any number of things. It was looking more and more like whatever relationship Bailey had with Slipknot had been abusive, and guilt was a common response in abuse victims. It could have just been the fact that Bailey had a conscience.

On the other hand… 

He was probably overthinking it. He should talk with his therapist, honestly. This was the exact kind of thing that Heroes League had therapists on staff to deal with. 

On the other hand, why would a supposedly small-time villain be so guilty? Because maybe they weren’t nearly as small-time as they seemed. Some small, unkind part of Luke couldn’t help but think that Bailey had to have done something to be feeling this guilty about. Just because they didn’t know what it was, didn’t mean it didn’t happen. 

The thoughts kept racing through his head like hamsters on a wheel, squeaky and annoying and going absolutely nowhere. They pestered him the rest of the day, no matter how he tried to ignore them. They were still there when he finally managed to get his insomniac ass in bed for the night.

Luke was no stranger to nightmares. He’d been an insomniac long before his injuries, but after? It seemed like any time he managed to steal a few minutes of sleep, some fucked-up nonsense was playing on the movie screen on the back of his eyelids. 

This dream seemed to follow the same recipe as most of them: take one soda of bad memories, add one mentos of dream logic, and shake vigorously. He was a kid, running over rooftops to escape from bullies. The next moment, he was flying over the city looking for a suspect for the Heroes League. He caught them; they caught him. 

The suspect held him over the edge of the roof—no, that was the kids. They caught him; he hadn’t run fast enough. 

Awww, are you scared, you little freak? You should be. Don’t you know we don’t want mutts like you around here?

(I thought you guys had rules about dangling people off buildings?)

He squirmed against the grip of the older boys, the ones who were always first with an insult or cruel “prank” against the kid who didn’t have enough control of his powers to keep from outing himself.

Why don’t you just float away? Get lost! 

Hands shoved him forward and pulled him back. He was falling—backwards? No, forwards, towards the edge of the roof. His hands barely came up in time to break his fall. 

You freaks are ruining the world for normal people! You can’t just run around flaunting what kind of mutant you are and expect us to sit back and let it happen!

(You can’t just ruin people’s lives and expect no repercussions!)

Someone, or maybe multiple, was kicking him. His weight shifted awkwardly on the edge of the roof. No, no, nonono, he was going to fall!

Cheering sounded in his ears, cruel and expectant. 

His legs went over the edge, torso slamming painfully into the side of the building. Now he was just holding on, and his hands were already starting to hurt. 

His fingers went from dull ache to sharp, hot agony in an instant. He opened his mouth to scream— (he… tried to? Was there something over his mouth?) but in true dream fashion, nothing happened. 

He looked up to see one of the bullies with a boot on his hand. The older boy gave an ugly grin and started to grind his heel into Luke’s fingers.

The cheering got even louder. 

Get him! Make him scream!

He looked down at the boot again. But wait, that wasn’t a kid’s shoe. 

That was a combat boot. Charcoal gray, and… familiar.

Luke looked up. 

It wasn’t his childhood bullies standing over him. This figure wore a red and gray outfit, menacing and eye-catching. 

Poppet scowled down at him and shoved their boot forward. Luke’s hand tore on the rough cement of the rooftop, before encountering nothing but air. 

He woke up before he hit the ground.

---

Dun dun dun! He's starting to remember!

Small text in parentheses is from Sadistic Choice.

Taglist:

@heathenville @nonbinary-disaster @kim-poce @whump-world @dolls-circus

@pickleking8 @ghostfacepepper @cupcakes-and-pain @badluck990 @mylifeisonthebookshelf

@pumpkin-spice-whump @deluxewhump @extemporary-whump @whumpwillow @multiple-characters1-acct

@sunflower1000 @fleur-alise @equestrianwritingsstuff @scp-1296 @livingforthewhump

@thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight @suspicious-whumping-egg @kaiwewi @lelly-belly

@neuro-whump @newbornwhumperfly @whumpthisway @whumpcreations @wicked-whump

@heart4brains @myhusbandsasemni @how-to-be-a-hero @kixngiggles @kurochan

@whumpsday @extrabitterbrain @pattonvirglsanders @neverthelass @we-write-as-one

@elrysdoesstuff @whumperflies-and-roses @ha-ha-one @whatwhumpcomments @ramadiiiisme

@towerlesskey @emmanemanemm @pigeonwhumps @whumpycries

[patchworkorphan]

The Hero and the Infant: Part Two

Read part one here

*~*~*~*~*

“Villain.”

The hero didn’t shout it. They didn’t need to. Villain would hear them fine even over all the destruction and screaming and emergency services. Hero just stared from the street up at Villain and Villain looked down at Hero. Hero lifted their hand in a wave and then pulled the cigarette from their lips, exhaling a lungful of smoke.

“Hero –” sidekick began but Hero shook their head.

“It’s okay kid. I got it from here,” Hero said still staring at Villain. “So, you gonna invite me up or do I have to climb twelve flights of stairs?”

Villain just stared. Sidekick moved forward, suddenly hesitant in bringing Hero here. Just as they opened their mouth to say it to Hero, Sidekick was wrenched into the sky by an invisible hand and suddenly Hero and the street were below them.

“Fucking shit,” Hero cursed, flicking their cigarette to the ground as they started running to the apartment building to the left of Villain and taking the stairs two at a time.

Villain stared at Sidekick with a probing, scientific kind of curiosity, like they were able to look under Sidekick's skin and unravel all their secrets with enough determination.

“You’re new,” Villain purred. Their voice like liquid silver dancing its way through the sky to Sidekick’s ears sending a shiver down their spine.

“Yeah. I’m Superhero’s sidekick.”

Villain tilted their head to the side and asked, voice deadpan, “do you know the mortality rate of Superhero’s previous sidekicks?”

Sidekick stared Villain in the eye as they said, “I do.”

“And you took the job anyways?”

“I did.”

“Hmm. Not very chatty. You remind me of an old friend of mine.”

“Forgive me, I don't usually chitchat while floating this high in the air."

"Hmm," Villain rumbled, "how about falling?"

For a single terrifying moment, Sidekick felt gravity's effects on them, yanking them back to earth and they gasped, reaching forward and grabbing Villain's leg like their life depended it.

"NO! Nononononononononono, wait! FUCK!" Sidekick cried as their grip on Villain faltered and they slipped. They fell an inch further in the air before they were suspended again, this time with their back to the ground below, staring up at Villain with wide frightened eyes. The only thing keeping them from the hard tarmac below thirteen stories below and being alive.

Villain turned over in the air, rolling onto their stomach and lying like a schoolgirl on their stomach with two hands supporting their head as they grinned down at Sidekick, drinking in their fear.

"You sound just like my favourite hero, Sidekick. I knew letting you fall would loosen your tongue a bit."

Villain was fucking insane, Sidekick realised, their heart still pounding like a rabbits at seeing a hungry dog catch their eye.

"Hero, I’m guessing?" Sidekick said eventually, though their voice still came out higher than it should have.

Villain smiled a fond smile that went to their eyes and lit up their entire face. “Yes. My dear cantankerous hero, so foul-mouthed."

“I met them today," Sidekick said, just trying to keep Villain talking and keep themselves suspended until Hero was able to talk Villain into hopefully letting Sidekick go. Where the fuck were they?

Villain's interest was piqued and they dove slightly towards Sidekick, grabbing Sidekick by the collar of their shirt and sitting on their waist, legs dangling over either side. Somehow, Villain made sure that even flying in the air, Sidekick could still feel the restrictive weight of Villain on top of them.

"And what did you think of them?" Villain asked.

What did Sidekick think of Hero?

"They were... difficult," was the first word that came to mind. Villain grinned and nodded sagely, agreeing with Sidekick as if it was a sacred moment.

“Nothing easy is worth having, Sidekick. Some parting advice.”

“You’re letting me go?”

“Oh yes,” said Villain with a disarming smile. “Quite literally.”

Sidekick didn’t have time to process Villain’s words before Villain shoved Sidekick down below them and wind rushed through their clothes, through their hair, through them as they fell like a comet to earth. This was how they died.

Then their momentum stopped suddenly, and they were swinging into a brick wall, their arm yanked out of its socket and Sidekick cried out in pain. Craning their neck up, they tried glancing up to see Hero above them, leaning half out a broken window, two feet planted on the sill and pulled Sidekick up despite their cries and cursing.

“God, I know. I’m sorry Sidekick. You shouldn’t have been here, god where the fuck is Superhero in all this!” Hero pulled Sidekick in the window and into their chest before stepping back and setting Sidekick down on the window sill.

“Fucking what the fuck?!” Sidekick mewled cradling their arm to their chest.

“I'm sorry, Villain doesn’t usually act like this,” Hero told them.

Sidekick blinked, pain lancing through their shoulder and down into their chest. “What?”

“They don’t usually act this way. First impressions are everything, but I swear there’s good in them.”

Sidekick blinked at Hero, shaking their head. “You’re defending them?!”

“Well, it’s my fault you see. This whole temper tantrum. I haven’t been returning their texts.”

“You haven’t—” Sidekick asked, then blinked and let out an exasperated “what?!”

“Your shoulder—” Hero said. “It’s dislocated.”

“No fucking shit!" Sidekick mewled. "You yanked it out of its socket!”

“Would you rather be a splat on the concrete? Cause I can still push you out the damn window, kid.”

Sidekick walked to the stairwell, fury and pain mixing in their heavy breaths as they braced themselves against the wall. Hero stepped forward a warning on their lips: “kid, I wouldn’t do th—”

It was too late. Sidekick had already thrown themselves against the wall. A resounding pop echoed throughout the stairs, followed by a sharp shriek of pain from Sidekick as they slid down the wall, breathing harshly through gritted teeth.

Hero opened their mouth, but Sidekick just held up a finger from their good arm and wagged it in Hero’s stupid face: “don’t. Say. A thing.”

Sidekick braced themselves against the wall, sliding up it with a groan of pain and rolled their shoulder. Forwards. Backwards. Then they set their furious eyes on Hero and without a word turned and started ascending the stairwell to the roof.

Hero laughed, stunned at the kid’s resilience, and followed them up the stairs. “Do you want some—”

“Just shut the hell up,” Sidekick said, kicking the door to the roof open and looking down pointedly at Hero who was midway through taking a bag of sweets from their pocket. “And go out and do your job.”

“Yes boss,” Hero said with a smile, putting a fizzy lace through their teeth. They emerged onto the roof, arms spread wide and yelled: “Hey! What the fuck are ya doing?” to Villain who was no doubt still floating in the sky, and Sidekick sat down heavy on the steps and took a few deep breaths.

They nearly just died.

Villain almost just killed them.

They would have killed them if not for Hero, and all they wanted to do was cry, but they were too angry.

“Just go out and do your job,” Sidekick chastised themselves, standing and wiping the remnants of tear trails from their cheeks before joining Hero on the roof.

Crying could come later if they lived that long.

*~*~*~*~*

Continued Here

[an-avid-writer]

What are some pieces of Villain dialogue that make your brain go BRRRR? (Add to my list)

-"I'm growing tired of this game, little mouse."

-"Oh, I love it when you drop to your knees and beg."

-"That's all it takes to shut you up, huh? Close quarters?"

-"I've got you cornered. Now, are you going to do as I say?"

-"Don't struggle, you'll only make it worse for yourself."

-"I won't let them hurt you again. That's my job."

-"What happened to you?"

-"You think I broke you? Darling, I bent you. I could do so much worse."

-"Make no mistake, I won't save you a second time."

-"If you're so eager to see what pain tastes like, then let me show you."

-"That's it. Obey."

-"You've really gotten yourself into a bit of a sticky situation here, haven't you?"

And my personal favorite,

-"Tell me who did this to you. Now."

[whumpsoda]

Fixed part 2

Fixed Part 1 Fixed Part 3  A lot of people liked the first one so I really wanted to continue it a bit!!!

———————————————————————

Villain was at his house.

Villain, his sworn enemy, was in Hero’s house. 

What was worse, was the fact that he appeared ecstatic to be there. Villain was in a kneeling position, the same he had been in at Superhero’s home, a wide smile plastered across his face. He peered eagerly at Hero.

Villain had only gotten on two feet once Hero had rushed out of Superhero’s home, desperate to escape, and It had been evident from the look of awe on Villains face that he wasn’t let outside much, if at all. His sickly pale skin was a telltale sign of that fact.

The entire car ride was silent, Hero fixated on his thoughts, and Villain with his cheek pressed to the window.

Hero now leaned against the cluttered countertop, trying to gather his thoughts. Villain sat right at his feet, eyes piercing into him, which did not help. 

“Sir?” Hero stiffened.

“Yeah, man?” Hero kept his eyes fixed on the wall.

“What are, um, what work do you require of me?” 

In confusion, Hero shifted his gaze to the other man. “Work?” He questioned.

“Yes, sir,” Villain maintained a genuine smile. “Work. That’s what I’m trained for, helping you! Superhero sir helped me so much, so I can help you now.” 

“Oh, uh, no Villain, I’m not like Superhero, I promise.” Hero crouched down, placing a gentle hand to Villain’s shoulder. “You’re okay now. You’re not with him anymore, he can’t hurt you, ‘kay? You don’t need to pretend anymore.”

Unlike Hero expected, Villain did not relax, nor did he begin acting like Villain. Instead, his brows furrowed, and his face fell to a state of confusion and worry. “I- sir, I’m not pretending, I promise! I really, really wanna serve you, please!” Villain was practically begging, his strained smile sending shivers down Hero’s spine.

Hero sighed, slipping his hands over his face. He stood up again, leaning his back against the counter. “Look, I know… you’ve gone through something, shitty, but it’s all fine now! I’m letting you go, Villain. So you can be evil and stuff again, okay?” His eyes met with Villains, and the look of terror on Villain’s face did nothing to ease his nerves. 

“Y’know, I think I’m just gonna call Assistant, your friend, y’know? Maybe she can help you-”

“No! No, sir, no!” Villain was yelling, his weak hands frantically clinging to Hero’s ankles. He pressed his forehead to the cold tile floor. “Please, I’m a good boy, I promise! I’m not evil anymore, an’ I’m not bad! I promise sir, I wanna be a good boy for you, please!”

Hero stared down, mouth agape and wideyed. 

“Please don’t send me back, with- with the villains. I’m not evil anymore, Superhero helped me! I’m made to serve you now, sir, I can’t go back. This is my purpose.”

Hero stared back, slack jawed, as Villain gazed up with pleading eyes. For a moment, neither made a sound.

“Villain, let's get you to bed.” Hero pushed his weight back onto his feet, standing up straight. Hero leaned down slightly, stretching out an open hand to his nemesis.

“But- sir- what about work?” 

“No work, Villain. It’s ten at night, and you look exhausted. I need you to sleep.”

“So I can work super hard tomorrow?” The words made Hero stiffen.

“Yeah, dude, whatever. Just… go to bed now, ‘kay?” Villain timidly curled his fingers over hero's, pulling himself onto shaky legs.

The two carefully made their way to Hero’s bedroom, which was not exactly what one would call clean. Clothes, papers, and unrecognizable items littered the floor, making it increasingly hard for the two to navigate the room without stepping on anything. When they made their way to the at least nice looking bed, Hero gestured to it.

“You… want me to sleep in a bed? In you’re bed?” Villain hung his head low, greasy strands of hair falling in front of his eyes.

“Yeah, sorry, I guess I need to order a bed for you tonight.” Hero chuckled slightly.

“I, um, I sleep on the floor sir.” 

“Villain. Bed, now please.” Upon the command, Villain carefully stepped to the bed, next to Hero, and fixed his eyes on the pristine sheets. He knew it would be so wrong. He should be cleaning, not sleeping, let alone in Hero’s bed.

Hero pressed a tender hand to Villain’s back, steadily shifting him onto the mattress. Villain sat down rigidly, his hands folded tightly in his lap.

“C’mon, lie down.” Hero coaxed. Begrudgingly, Villain placed his back against the blankets under him. Hero leaned to the floor, grabbing a large, fluffy blanket and placing it over Villain’s body. It enveloped his small frame, making it so he was almost completely unnoticeable underneath.

The warmth and comfortability of the blanket felt foreign to him. Drowsiness began to seep into his brain, taking a hold on him. As much as he needed to fight it, part of him didn’t want to. Hero was rubbing his shoulder, sweet, circular motions. “Just sleep now. I have to leave for a bit, but I’ll be back as soon as I can. Goodnight Villain.”

Hero received only a tired hum of recognition in response. As he walked out of the dark room, he watched as Villain snuggled deeper into the soft bed.

…

Hero held his fist to the door, hesitantly knocking his knuckles against it. He had no idea if anyone would answer. He wouldn’t have blamed them if they didn’t. They definitely didn’t know that he knew where they lived, and they definitely would not take kindly to that fact.

Especially since he not only knew where they lived, but he showed up to their place of residence. In the middle of the night. Unannounced.

Yet, moments later, the door opened, but only a sliver. “What are you doing here?” Hero felt his throat run momentarily dry.

“I-I need your help.”

“And why the hell would that be? I’m not coming out so you and your Hero friends can capture me, just like Villain.” A strike of guilt struck through the hero's body. 

“I’m not going to arrest you.”

“Then there's no reason for you to be here, and I’m sure there's no possible reason you could ever need my help. So leave.” Hero watched as they went to shut the door.

“It’s about Villain!” The door opened a smidge more, allowing a faint outline of the figure to become visible.

“What?” Hero swallowed.

“I need your help. For Villain.”

[chaotic-orphan]

Hero villain drabble

Suicidal hero my beloved <3

“This is the part where you beg,” Villain said with a wicked grin on their face.

Hero’s head fell forward, their eyes closed. “Just do it,” they whispered, tears streaming down their face. “Please. Please.”

Hero grabbed Villain’s wrist with the knife in it and brought it closer to their throat until it drew blood. “Please, please, please.”

Villain frowned, a million emotions passing across their stormy eyes. They wanted Hero to beg for their life. They didn’t expect the great Hero to beg for death. Villain pulled away. Without them supporting Hero’s weight, Hero slid down the brickwork, drawing their knees into their chest.

Villain pulled out their phone. “I’ll call an ambulance,” they muttered, but as soon as they said that wild, frightened eyes widened, grabbing their attention.

“No, please! Please. If you don’t kill me they will, please! Please!” Hero wailed, scrambling over and grabbing Villain’s leg, pulling at the fabric. “Please! You— you said if I begged, you would— you’d—”

Villain stared as their nemesis dissolved into sobs, unaware of how to comfort someone that was begging to be killed by your hand. In a split second, Villain made a snap decision, pocketing their phone.

They crouched and grabbed Hero by the hair, yanking them off of Villain. Hero hissed out in pain but didn’t fight. They didn’t struggle.

“I will kill you, Hero,” Villain said, and the relief that flooded Hero was disconcerting. “But not here. I want it to be public. Planned. I want to make sure everyone knows who destroyed the great Hero.”

Hero started trembling in Villain’s grasp. Good. It was working. Villain grabbed Hero’s chin and yanked them close. “So you’re coming with me.”

Hero’s wet eyes widened to the size of saucers as Villain scooped them up and carried them to Villain’s car. “Are you going to behave or do I need to throw you in the boot?”

Hero sniffed, snuggling into Villain’s chest. “I’ll be-behave.”

Villain put them in the backseat. Hero curled up into a ball, facing the fabric of the seat and even from the window Villain could see them sobbing again. They walked around to the boot and called Butler.

“Master Villain.”

“Hello, Butler. I need another room made up for tonight, we will be having a guest stay with us for a while.”

“Of course. How long?”

Villain looked back at the defeated Hero in their backseat. “Until they get back on their feet.”

“Unusually magnanimous of you, Master.”

“Yes,” Villain agreed, disconcerted. “It is.”

“I will have everything prepared before you arrive.”

“Thank you, Butler.”

Villain walked to the driver’s seat, their mind racing at a million miles an hour. They couldn’t kill Hero like this, it was pathetic. As if they just rescued a puppy to abuse it. No, Villain had a thing for strays, so when Hero was ready to tell Villain who abused them, well, they’d better prepare for a whole world of hurt.

[ownlittleuniverse]

Hii, how was your day?

Can you do a Hesitant Hero and A Flirty Villain? Maybe Villain Escapes from the prison and when hero chases them gets caught in a trap in the villain's lair. Hero's can't handle the proximity?

my day’s been pretty chill & good ty for asking, glad to have time to write again :) @marichika04

request #1 - the hero gets caught in the villain’s trap

warning: themes of captivity, suggestive language (not nsfw)

The hero hated admitting they looked forward to these daily checkups, which is why they wouldn’t.

With a keycard in one hand and a list of questions in the other, the hero approached the metal cell door with an intake of breath.

The villain only agreed to talk to them for some reason, adding yet another mystery the hero needed to solve.

The door opened with a beep, revealing the villain lounging casually against the wall, as if they were comfortable, as if they wanted to be there. Their untouched breakfast lay before them.

The hero sighed. “You need to eat,” they muttered, crouching down to the villain's level, glaring at the back of their head. The villain had been in the team's capture for over a week and had barely eaten.

“I’ve fed my dog better.”

The hero suspected they were starving themselves on purpose, perhaps intending to die with secrets still buried in their mind. Yet, a part of the hero also wanted them to eat for their own health, so they wouldn’t waste away.

The villain turned, eyes locking onto the clipboard in the hero’s hand. A smirk spread across their face as they met the hero's eyes. “I’ll agree to answer more boring questions if you give me something edible.”

The hero tried to maintain their courage, but they felt the villain could see through the facade, see their cracks, see how scared they really were.

“You will answer them because you’re our prisoner,” they replied, not missing how their own voice shook slightly.

The villain only smiled, tilting their head slightly, a glint in their eye that the hero recognized.

“What?” the hero gulped.

The villain shook their head, chuckling.

The hero stood, stepping away from the villain, feeling a slight relief with the added distance. Despite the bars between them, the hero felt an unsettling mix of emotions whenever they were close to the villain—an intense nervousness that they couldn’t quite categorize as liked or loathed.

They wished they could make these confusing feelings vanish and needed a distraction. They began scanning the list of questions on their clipboard, pondering when they might finally get answers to these questions from previous days, all left unanswered. The villain's stubbornness was their biggest strength.

“You heroes are so boring,” the villain groaned, standing to grip the metal bars, their fingers flexing around them. The hero glanced up, curiosity killing the cat.

“I would have answered all your questions ages ago if you weren’t so afraid to use more... creative methods, sweetheart.”

The hero tried to ignore the villain’s suggestive tone, returning to their clipboard, though they felt the villain’s gaze burning into them.

The villain didn’t miss how their face flushed. “Don’t be afraid to have a little fun,” they smiled. “If I were in your shoes, all the things I’d do to you would drag the answers right out.”

The hero’s mind flooded with images, their cheeks reddening. The villain wasn’t violent, but their interrogation methods always spiked the hero’s heartbeat in a way that was unsettling.

The hero had been trained to handle painful interrogations, and the villain knew this, which is why they always used these other methods. Their body reacted in a way their mind hated, but their body couldn’t help but adore. It was confusing. It was hell.

“Your threats mean nothing,” the hero said, barely audible, trying hard to suppress the unevenness in their voice. They still managed an erratic heartbeat in the villain’s presence, even though they couldn’t do anything from inside that cell.

“They still made your mind race,” the villain smirked. “And I’m sure���"

The hero heard a sharp intake of breath. They looked up in confusion.

Their eyes widened as they saw the villain’s hands grip the bars like their life depended on it. They slumped to the ground.

The hero dropped their clipboard and rushed over, the worst possibilities flooding their mind. Red seeped from the villain’s crumpled form. They looked like they were at death’s door.

“What—what’s going on?” the hero whispered, their hand moving to check the villain’s pulse. Their skin felt too cold.

The villain grunted, clutching their side, struggling to keep their eyes open. “Your teammates aren’t as nice as you are, darling,” they smiled, blood seeping through their teeth, making their grin more haunting.

The hero’s breathing quickened as they swore under their breath and ran from the room. They wondered if that was why the villain wasn’t eating much. Did the villain think the team had done something to their food? Maybe they had, but why? The hero’s mind raced through possibilities as they sprinted down the hallway.

Grabbing the first aid kit they spotted, they rushed back in.

But the scene that greeted them was a pool of red liquid, an open window…

And an empty cell.

That little bastard.

The hero cursed, bolting to the window just in time to see the villain sprint into oncoming traffic, kicking a poor bystander out of their car and getting in. How did they get down so fast?

The hero needed to act quickly.

Adrenaline surged as they dove out of the window, hitting the ground with a roll. Their shoulder scraped against the pavement, pain shooting down their back and arm. They hissed through their teeth.

They grunted but got back on their feet, signalling to other guards that the hero would handle the situation. The hero wasn’t even in uniform, only a tank top and pants. No weapons, just themselves.

They ran toward the sound of honking cars and panicked voices, watching the villain weave through traffic, picking up speed.

The hero jumped into a car vacated by a startled civilian, slammed on the gas, and shouted, “Sorry!”

The hero could still see the villain’s car in the distance, weaving recklessly through traffic. Sweat coated their palms, blood from their scraped shoulder seeping onto the seat. Their foot pressed harder on the gas.

They’d be in serious trouble if they didn’t return with the villain. The team would get a reputation for letting a villain escape because the hero was too gullible. Too scared. Not fit for the job.

A sharp ache filled their chest. The team already said the hero was growing soft.

Being soft wasn’t bad, but it was bad when someone used it against you.

The hero watched as the villain took a sharp left, their car’s rear slamming into a trash can on the sidewalk, sending metal shards flying. Bystanders jolted back, screams of shock echoing.

The hero followed the turn, the car screeching against the pavement, their body thrown to the side. Breathing felt like a struggle, but they pressed the gas harder, their heartbeat matching the car’s speed.

They tailed the villain’s reckless turns, watching them narrowly avoid collisions. The hero closed in, seeing the back of the villain’s head, imagining their stupid smirk. So close.

The hero slammed on the brakes.

They realized then the person who came running into the street like a maniac, the person they barely missed slamming right into and turning into roadkill, was a cop.

Shit.

The hero watched the villain take a right in the distance.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

They got out of the car without a second thought.

They managed about five steps before a bruising grip halted them.

“What do you think you're doing?” the rookie snapped, gripping the hero’s arm firmly, anger in their voice making the hero flinch.

The hero looked at the scared civilians overwhelming the street with their shaking chatter. They were just trying to go about their day. Now their eyes reflected only terror.

Breathing heavily, the hero stared into the cop’s eyes, which were seeing red.

Without their uniform, they were just another reckless civilian.

“You are going to sit in my car,” the cop gruffed, handcuffs inches from the hero’s wrist, “while I go get your friend.”

The hero didn’t have time to explain or fix this mess.

So they headbutted the cop and ran.

The hero didn’t wait for the officer to recover, sprinting with all their might.

“Stop!”

The hero took the right turn, legs burning, the cop’s shouts fading behind them. Slowing down, they saw the villain’s car parked askew in front of an old, abandoned-looking apartment building.

The graffiti-covered walls looked familiar, but they couldn’t place it. Maybe because it felt like they were dying.

They doubled over, hands on knees, trying to catch their breath. They knew the villain was near, their skin prickling with awareness.

The cop’s pounding footsteps echoed, breath heavy, just about to round the corner.

The hero quickly jumped through a broken window, ducking down.

They tried to breathe quietly, feeling their pulse in their ears. They backed up slowly, crouching, holding the weapon they snagged from the cop unnoticed.

The hero watched the cop pass by, sporting a new bloody nose.

With one finger delicately on the trigger, the hero continued to back up carefully. They needed to find the villain, and then clean up their giant mess.

Their foot caught on something uneven, causing them to stumble. They looked down.

Rope?

The rope tightened around their ankle, lifting their foot in the air.

Their body swiftly followed.

Their head smacked against the dirty pavement, their heart dropping to their stomach.

They groaned, cradling their head, feeling a bump forming as their vision blurred.

Somehow, over their heartbeat, they heard their echoed yelp bounce off the apartment’s walls.

Now the world was upside down.

“I know you’re here!” the cop shouted. “Come out!”

They must have heard the scream.

The hero held their breath, eyes wide, praying the cop wouldn’t glance their way.

They watched the cop frantically search, feeling their pulse in their feet.

Please. Please. Please. Don’t look this way.

After seconds that felt like hours, the cop swore and stomped off, muttering into their radio.

The hero would’ve sighed with relief,

but the rope still dug into their ankle bone.

They looked down—or up, given their position—and saw the cop’s weapon on the floor, just out of reach.

They stretched, arm and hand straining, fingers brushing the metal.

The hero was tired, exhausted. Their breath was uneven, their body shaking.

Their body weight pulled at their ankle, sending tingles through their feet, muscles screaming in protest.

Focusing all their energy, they pulled more, blocking everything else out.

Finally, they inched the weapon closer, feeling the cool metal on their fingertips. Slowly, they grasped the end—

A deafening crack exploded inches away.

They yelped, retracting their hand just in time to avoid a bullet hole.

Pure fear shot through their swaying body.

Hands cradling their head, they tried to block out the deafening ringing in their brain.

The hero frantically twisted, seeing nothing but the upside-down view of the apartment’s walls. No other breathing but their own.

Their vision blurred, seeing double, then quadruple. Their ankle grew numb, pins and needles dancing on the bottom of their foot as the rope dug into their skin.

They saw the cop’s weapon but didn’t dare grab it again.

“Look at you, dangling like a piece of meat.”

The villain’s voice cut through their frantic haze, making the hairs on their neck stand up.

They swung around to see the villain lounging in a chair, examining the weapon that had nearly ended the hero’s hand, holding the rope supporting the hero’s entire body weight like it was nothing.

“How the mighty have fallen,” the villain chuckled, fingers tracing the barrel.

The hero let themselves dangle, the villain’s fingers close to the trigger keeping them compliant. Their pulse pounded in their head.

“I’m not a piece of meat,” the hero managed to say, their voice betraying them with fear.

The villain looked up, eyes narrowing with interest. “I’m aware, darling, and I’m glad you aren’t,” the villain smirked. “Pieces of meat don’t let out the sounds you do.”

The hero’s cheeks flushed with a mix of anger, embarrassment, and something else they refused to acknowledge. The villain knew their fear, like sharks smelling blood in the water.

The villain slowly stood, tossing the weapon back and forth, taunting the hero. The hero glanced between the villain and their still-captured ankle, trying to wiggle free, grunting and crying out.

The villain strolled toward the hero, footsteps like the ticks of a bomb before it detonates.

The hero thrashed, trying to reach the cop's weapon but pushed it away instead.

No. No.

They whined in their restraints, trying to sit up to untie their ankle, their breathing erratic as the villain closed in, the weapon swinging between their hands.

The hero gulped. It could easily annihilate anyone or at the least, leave them with a missing limb.

Desperate, they sat up, managing to get one finger under the rope, a flicker of hope—

“Ah, Ah, Ah.”

The villain yanked the rope hard.

The hero gasped, falling back to meet the villain eye to eye, smirk to scowl.

They could try to escape, but the villain’s proximity was terrifying. The hidden intentions in their eyes, their smirk—they were too afraid to move.

“You know,” the villain began, their tone mockingly casual, “it’s a bit unfair, don’t you think?”

The hero flinched, breath hitching at the villain’s soft hand trailing across their ankle bone, sending shivers up their leg. Their body betrayed them, a mix of dread and anticipation coursing through their veins.

“I give a cop a bloody nose, and I’m labelled the bad guy,” the villain smirked. “You do the same, and you’re still the hero. The difference, I suppose, is that I’m not someone’s good little lapdog.

The hero’s chest heaved with anger. They wanted to snap back, but the villain’s soft touch kept them at bay. They were afraid that if they opened their mouth, only sounds they didn’t want to come out would escape.

Yet they wanted to scream.

They hated the villain for making them feel this way. They had rushed to help the villain in the cell, felt bad, maybe even cared. When did they become so gullible? When were they not naive?

The villain finally released the hero’s ankle, a mix of relief and longing flooding the hero’s mind.

Then they tied the hero’s wrists together, letting them dangle above their head.

The hero tried to regulate their breathing, the rope biting into their ankle, the world still disorienting as more blood rushed to their head.

The villain knelt, eyes level with the hero’s, examining their pitiful state.

Suddenly, the hero felt their tank top crumple under gravity’s pull, exposing their midriff.

The villain didn’t glance, keeping their gaze locked on the hero’s mortified reaction, making the hero’s body tingle.

They reached out, fingers grazing the hero’s waist. The hero sucked in breath.

“Don’t worry, I won’t peek,” the villain teased, fingers lingering before slowly pulling the tank back up.

Their touch was deliberate, disguised as innocence. It sent unwanted shivers down the hero's spine.

The hero’s face flushed, mind racing. The villain leaned closer, breath warm against the hero’s ear. "You know, back when I was captured, I couldn’t help but notice how you treated me. Different from the others. You were...nice."

The hero bit their lip, refusing to respond, their emotions a tangled mess of fear, anger, betrayal, and something else.

“I liked that,” the villain continued, almost thoughtful. “I liked that you were kind, even when you didn’t have to be.”

Before the hero could process those words, the villain pulled them further off the ground. The hero’s muscles screamed, a whine escaping them.

With practiced ease, the villain tied the hero’s hands to their feet, securing the knots tightly. The hero’s heart pounded, breath coming in short bursts, utterly at the villain’s mercy.

The villain’s smirk grew as they stepped back, admiring their handiwork. “We’re going to have a lot of fun,” they said, voice low and dangerous.

The hero didn’t have time to react.

In one swift motion, they pulled the hero’s tank over their head, using it to blindfold and gag them. The hero’s vision plunged into darkness, their screams muffled.

“Shh,” the villain whispered, their voice the hero’s only focus.

The hero’s mind raced with panic and unwanted desire, their body reacting despite their better judgment. They were trapped, helpless, at the villain’s mercy. This game had just begun, and the hero knew they were in for a long, torturous ordeal.

The hero remembered why the building was too familiar for comfort.

Memories that lay in those walls they tried to block out. Not because they hated them—no, because they were deathly afraid of how much they loved them.

[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

[b0amagination]

Tastes of Whumptober: Day 20

Did you know? Hero and villain prompts were some of the first whump content I intentionally consumed! I will forever be salty that mainstream superhero content could never live up to those prompts.

Content warnings for: Gun violence, threats of death, and mildly suggestive comments

Giving Permission to Die

“So? What’s the plan today?” The villain shouted across the room at the hero whose captivity he’d been in for… a week, now. Maybe more.

“Finally giving you what you want,” he responded with a shrug, playing with the knife in his hands. Flip it over, switch hands. Flip it over, switch hands.

“You don’t look prepared to present me with your corpse.”

“Oh, my death wouldn’t end your sentence, my love.” The flipping game was getting boring, and he picked at dirt under his nails using the blade instead. “You’d be chained up here with the rotting thing until you passed away yourself. Not punishment enough for your crimes, but it’s better than letting you roam the streets.”

“Sounds like you’re not giving me what I want then.”

“Be glad my greatest sin is telling lies.” A pointed glare accused him of crimes he’d plead innocent to, yet again. The knife moved to scratch an itch with the flat of it. 

“You sure that torturing a man isn’t higher on that list?”

“The pen is mightier than the sword, love.” A gesture with the damned thing now. He pushed down the urge to point out the obvious differences between that little thing and a sword. But the dick joke was funny in his head and didn’t involve initiation of a measuring contest.

“And your forked tongue doesn’t salivate ink. Swords can make quick work of those.” 

“Oh, shall I try it out on yours?” The hero stuck out his tongue at him.

“Put me out of my misery first.”

The knife plunged into the floor and he stood, never taking his eyes off of the villain.

“That. That’s what I’m talking about. Always egging me on. Trying to make me go too far.” He stalked forward and pulled a pistol from the inside pocket of his jacket. Entirely concealed from the outside. “I’ll go too far today. Just for you.” 

“Cute prop.” He hid the way his body shivered at the sight, praying the hero wouldn’t call his bluff. He was chained to this wall by his ankles, wrists, and neck. It wouldn’t be useful to put himself in a more vulnerable position.

“Here, let me fire. Maybe you’ll believe it then.” The gun aimed at the concrete beside his head but he paused. “Oh, who am I kidding. I should save your hearing for the last few minutes of your life.”

Foam earplugs were thrust into his ears and held still while they extended to block the canal, and the other did the same for himself. 

“Now, where was I?” Of course, shouting loud enough to bypass the earplugs. He aimed only a foot to the left of the villain’s head, pulling away as far as he possibly could, and fired. 

The sound ricocheted around the room, admittedly too small to facilitate gunfire, and he grinned at the way his victim flinched, eyes going wide. He walked forward and plucked the bullet out from its newfound pocket in the concrete, scattering dust and chunks that had stood solid just moments before. 

It was still warm from being shot and he dropped his knees, pressing it into the villain’s hand and folding up fingers to protect it. It trembled in his grip. 

“Do you believe me now, dear?” he spoke low into their ear, making sure he could still hear the threatening tone.

“Leave. Put that damn thing away and leave. You won’t shoot me and I know it.”

He cradled his cheek with the gun. And slid it up to sit against his temple. 

“How confident are you?” 

“Deadly so.”

BANG.

The world was fuzzy from the shot. The noise too close to his head, bleeding into his vision despite the protection. He looked down at his hands to see the blood dripping down them, spraying from his forehead. But only the bullet rolling in his palm greeted him. 

“Oops, guess the magazine was out.” 

Comprehension was a struggle. His forehead burned, but without blood… the hero’s thumb reached up and he flinched back uselessly as it rubbed over the not-hole. It came back covered in soot, wiped against his jaw like it was nothing. 

“What…?”

He released the magazine from the gun and presented it. Empty. 

“You were right. I didn’t shoot you.”

“You…”

“Pulled the trigger? Absolutely. Let’s rectify that little mistake, love.” Another magazine from his pocket, showing the bullets loaded inside, and shoving it into place. 

Then the front sight pressed against the villain’s lips, wiggling between them and scratching his teeth. He shook his head, turning it to the side. 

“No, no. You asked me for this, baby. I’ll follow through for you.” His hand steadied his chin, squeezing his jaw, and the muzzle jammed into the teeth with the threat to break. He had no choice but to let it in.

Gunpowder was a repulsive taste. Ash and acid. Then metal, still warm from recent discharge, but cooling rapidly. He guided it in, not stopping when teeth clamped down in an attempt to ward it off. The muzzle pressed toward his gag reflex when the trigger guard finally brushed his lips and he sighed, a whiny pathetic thing. 

“C’mon. Nod, babe, and I’ll pull the trigger. Hero’s honor. To save those in need.”

Nothing. He held him by the back of the head, devious smile aware of each action’s connotation, and twisted the pistol to force it further, making him gag on it. 

“Tell me to do it. I’ll let you die. I’ll blow your fucking brains out, sweetheart.”

The hammer clicked back. His finger inched toward the trigger. The villain held his breath, unmoving.

And then the gun ripped out of his mouth, sight tearing across his cheek and lip, splattering his blood across the floor where it flew and spun to a stop at the other end of the room.

“Right. Don’t ask me again.”

[jumpywhumpywriter]

Villain's Coffee Shop part 21

Warnings: bleeding, grave injures, mind control, wounded Hero, corrupt Superhero

Inspiration for this one comes directly from the wonderful Anon who sent me THIS ask. So thank you Anon for your great idea for the plot!

Even though she wasn't dead yet, she would be soon if he didn't intervene.

But who could have done this? Villain kept thinking to himself, mind reeling. They were in an agency full of heroes! How would no one notice something like this? Had a villain somehow snuck in and attacked her without anyone seeing?! The odds of that were pretty slim.

"Hero? Hero!" Villain shook her shoulders roughly, and Hero finally jerked to consciousness with a groan, eyes cracking open to stare up at him dizzily.

"Ugggh... Villain?" She slurred weakly. "How did... you get here?"

"Long story, but I'm getting you out," Villain growled determinedly.

"Huh? Why are we leaving?"

"Because you're badly hurt, and -- why do I need to explain this to you?!?" Villain barked. "You're bleeding out, and that doesn't concern you?!"

Hero glanced guiltily at the floor, gaze cloudy and unfocused. "It's my punishment for failure," she wheezed. "For allowing Vito to be brought in so beaten up and mangled – heroes are supposed to bring them in as intact as possible for processing. My punishment’s not done yet -- I can't leave until it's over."

"Nonsense," Villain snarled, growing increasingly alarmed. Hero definitely wasn't acting like herself right now. What was wrong with her?!

"It's my punishment," Hero repeated robotically. "You can't take me anywhere until--"

"Your punish --- did Superhero do this to you??" Villain gawked as Hero suddenly broke out into a terrifying smile that lacked any real emotion other than what could only be described as reverent.

"Yes!" Hero said eagerly, voice abruptly dreamy and soft. "Superhero is helping me be better, he is wonderful and perfect and I would be nothing without his help. I need these punishments to teach me right from wrong."

Villain placed a firm hand on either side of her head, tilting it up and forcing her foggy eyes to meet his and holding her there. "Are you hearing yourself right now?! Something's seriously wrong with you right now! You need to snap out of it!"

"She can't," a deep voice rumbled behind him.

Villain whipped around fast as a snake to see Superhero leaning casually on the doorframe, eyeing him coolly.

"What did you do to her?!" Villain demanded harshly. "This--" he pointed an accusing finger at Hero -- "this is not a punishment! This is torture!"

"You act like there's a difference," Superhero chuckled. "All punishments require pain. It's how we learn. Pain is the world's most useful motivator. There's no room in this Agency for weak ones. Either the heroes under my control adapt and grow... or die. There's no in-between. If a young child presses their hand to a hot stove and gets burned, they won’t do it again, right? Same concept applies here.”

"But--you're supposed to be the good guys! How is this legal? How is the Agency allowing this?!" Villain shouted in rage.

"They aren't. They know nothing about what happens on this floor. It's my territory, and I do what I want in it. No one is permitted to know about it... I make sure of that. Isn't that right, Hero?" Superhero's voice dripped with venom.

"Yes, Sir!" Hero chirped obediently, eyes glassy and glazed. Her smile was crooked, verging on maniacal or insane as she stared at Superhero like her whole world revolved around him.

And then it clicked.

"Holy--you're a--" Villain glanced between her and the enemy in the doorway, eyes widening. His gaze met Superhero's, and his mind abruptly went fuzzy, limbs heavy and tired. "Oh... no... not..." He couldn't form words, his thoughts sinking into empty nothingness one by one, shutting down. He swayed dizzily on his feet, touching his head with wince and trying to stay in control against the strange power latching onto him. But somehow, he couldn't blink, couldn't look away from Superhero's piercing eyes boring into him. Mesmerizing. Commanding all of his attention in a lethal focus.

"You weren't supposed to see this," Superhero's voice echoed in his ears, the sound distant and warped like it was coming from underwater. "I'm afraid I'll have to fix that..."

The edges of Villain vision began to darkness, something rough scraping against his mind that made him shiver—

—Reality came crashing back with a roar and a shriek of pain. Instantly the effect vanished, and Villain was back in control, watching as Mocha viciously clawed at Superhero's face and surged into his panther form, smashing him into the ground and distracting him from his human friend.

Villain felt a wave of gratitude wash over him as he rushed to grab Hero. Where would he be without his amazing three-legged companion to save him once again. He threw Hero over a shoulder and spun around at hearing a pained yowl, seeing Mocha stagger backward favoring a bleeding hind leg. Superhero was holding a pocket knife in one hand as he slowly got back to his feet.

Villain needed to act fast while Superhero was still dazed if he wanted to save Hero. So he ran over to Mocha, and did what he could: drap Hero over the panther's large broad shoulders, shoving her hands into the thick fur. "Hold tight, Hero!" He barked, unsure if she could even hear him. But she must have, because he saw her hands tighten in the fur, and relief hit him like a truck. Then he looked Mocha straight in his feline eyes. "Get her out of here and take care of her," he whispered. "I'll buy you time."

Mocha's ears flicked back sadly, his eyes wide and worried, but he dipped his head in acknowledgement, turning toward the door and leaping for it, smashing straight past Superhero before he could stop the furry beast.

Screams of terror rang out in the halls as Mocha was spotted by employees who scrambled to get out of the way of the charging monster bearing a limp hero on his back.

"You fool!" Superhero snarled angrily, and Villain's attention snapped back to the problem at hand. He needed to get out. Fast.

He dashed for an opening to dart around him and escape, but Superhero threw a fist out and punched him square in the chest with enough force to send him flying and crashing into the far wall of the room, where he crumpled in a heap on the floor with a broken wheeze.

Right. Superstrength. Apparently Villain wasn't the only one with two separate superpowers.

"You're... a Mindbender?" Villain rasped, standing on shaky legs.

Superhero bared his teeth in a feral grin, blood dribbling down his face from where Mocha had raked his claws down it. "I am. It's how I've operated for so long without anyone catching on. Manipulating thoughts and memories, making people forget things I don’t want them to remember… And it looks like I'm not the only one with a dark secret, Villain."

Villain glanced down at his own hands, which crackled with dark energy, shadows at his disposal and ready to defend him.

"You are a clever rat, I'll give you that much," Superhero laughed. "You almost had me fooled. I had a sneaking suspicion you were my rival from the first day you joined Agency, but I wasn't able to confirm it until now. Because my nemesis was a rare Shadowbender, and you never displayed those powers. But now here you are. The mighty Villain. Right under my nose." His expression twisted with hate and was full of malice. "So uncharacteristically selfless of you to take Hero's place," he chuckled coldly, and menacingly stepped in front of the door, trapping Villain in.

Villain swallowed hard, suddenly realizing the terrible position he'd put himself in as he slid into a stable fighting stance.

"We have some unfinished business, if I recall?" Superhero ran a finger along the razor-sharp edge of his fighting knife as he unsheathed it -- the same knife Villain vividly remembered punching through his gut the night he'd almost died. The night Hero had found him bleeding out and saved his life.

His blood went ice cold with fear. Raw, genuine fear. For all his charm and ways of weaseling out of trouble, he might not walk out of this one alive.

"Let's have a redo of our last fight, hmm?" Superhero smiled cruelly, twirling the blade in his hand before pointing the tip right at Villain's chest. "Let's see if you can get yourself out of this one."

Villain made sure not to look straight into his enemy's eyes, avoiding the mind trap. Mindbenders needed full eye contact to manipulate someone, he recalled. And he realized now why Superhero had never been able to entrance him before during previous fights -- because his old villain mask had a reflective visor so Superhero could never make direct eye contact before. It all made sense now.

Villain flexed his fingers, black smokey darkness flickering and coiling up his arms like living snakes. He was backed into a corner with no way out. And that made him all the more dangerous.

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