#possessive villain

[villainousauthor]

"I cannot believe you! I don't wanna even see your face right now." Hero rages, throwing their hands up in disbelief. They're dressed down in their normal civilian clothes, and so is Villain, who's currently looking at them all too pleased.

"I mean, can you blame me?" Villain asks, voice still light.

"Yes! This is the third date of mine you've ruined this month," Hero steps up to Villain, getting in their face, pointing at them as they talk. "What I do outside of my Hero work is absolutely none of your concern."

"Oh please, none of these people have even been worthy-"

"This guy was so nice! I could have really liked him." Hero interrupts, eyebrows drawn down into a harsh glare. Villain grabs the hand currently inches from jabbing them in the chest, holding it tight in their own grip.

"That's part of the problem. I don't want you getting too entwined with any of these lesser people. Your focus should be on me," The Villain's voice was now laced with seriousness, making sure their claim was understood. "Us, our fights, our rivalry. Me."

"Possessive freak." Hero bites back, but doesn't take their hand away.

"Let me make it up to you if it upsets you that much. I'll take you out to dinner."

[villain-enthusiast]

The hero coughed blood.

Fucking shit, they thought frantically, hand pressed over the gaping wound in their side. Their new opponent packed a serious punch, more than what the agency had expected when they sent the hero out to stop them. Somehow they’d escaped, but not without the nasty stab to their stomach.

Class two villain my ass. The hero grunted as they stumbled into an alleyway, nearly slamming their shoulder into one of the brick walls. They slipped into damp corner and sat down gingerly, their breathing shallow. Cold sweat broke out on their forehead.

They shook the sputtering communication device on their wrist. Busted. The hero suddenly realized with disturbing clarity that they would die here if they didn’t get help soon, bleeding their guts out on the floor.

Blinding pain shot through their torso, and they closed their eyes, muscles clenching. They couldn’t stand up, not without passing out. And with their internal bleeding, pressure to the wound would be largely ineffective.

They were so totally fucked.

“Hero?”

The hero’s lids snapped open. The cloaked figure before them dipped and swayed, but they forced themselves to concentrate. No, that wasn’t their assaulter, that was—

“Villain,” they rasped.

“What are you doing all the way out here?” The villain’s tone was mocking, but could the hero hear a hint of concern?

The hero attempted a sloppy smirk as they approached. “Oh, y’know, just decided to get stabbed and die today. Regular hero shenanigans.” Shit, their words were slurring.

The villain didn’t respond, crouching down in front of them. Their fingers brushed over the throbbing cut on their cheek, ghosted over the bruise on their jaw—it was funny, the hero noted, how the villain's first instinct was to check their face—before trailing down to the still-bleeding wound at their side. Their hand paused.

The silence was so thick that the hero could hear their wavering heartbeat in their ears.

“Who did this to you.” The villain’s words were quiet. Deadly.

The hero choked on a disbelieving laugh. “Like you care,” they wheezed, but even they could hear the doubt in their own voice. When the villain continued to wait for an answer, they added, "One of your lackeys.” Their eyes fluttered as a wave of fatigue overwhelmed them.

The villain snapped their fingers. "Hey, stay with me." They gently removed the hero's limp hand from their side, examining the gash. They swore under their breath.

"That bad, huh," the hero huffed.

“This looks like [other villain]’s work,” the villain muttered. “Destroying your comms, letting you escape with a fatal wound, making you think you’ve gotten away when really,” their eyes slid up to meet the hero’s detached stare, “you’re on the brink of death.”

“How kind of them.”

The villain shook their head. “Why were you even fighting them? They’re superhero’s responsibility. You’re supposed to be going after me.” They paused, gaze darkening. “And only me.”

The hero shrugged minutely. “Agency assignment.” Their muscles clenched as white hot pain rattled through them again, leaving them weaker than ever. “Can you just kill me already? That’s what you came for, isn’t it?” They titled their head back against the wall and closed their eyes, feeling their body grow more distant by the second. “Just fucking do it.”

They heard the villain move, and they waited for the knife against their throat or the gun at their temple, but instead, gloved hands slid under their back and legs, lifting them up.

What? The hero shifted weakly, but the villain shushed them and bundled them closer to their chest.

“No questions. I’ve got you,” the villain murmured, holding them tightly as they sprinted down the alley, making sure they didn’t jostle their injury. “You can sleep now. I’ve got you.”

And the hero, somehow feeling safe in their enemy’s arms and too tired to wonder why they were being saved, succumbed to the pull of unconsciousness not a second later.

.

part two

[caker-baker]

Playing Sides

The detective allowed themself tense shoulders and whitened knuckles, if only to properly play the game.

Body language could make and break this meeting, and they needed to be a collection of fearful memories on display for the villain, an offering, appeasement, something else here and there.

If anyone other than the villain noticed the act, they were obviously choosing not to say something, going about their individual days, drinking coffee and politely nibbling on microwaved pastries.

But those people didn’t matter, not when there was something else much more pressing at the table.

“This seems a tad…” The villain sitting across from the appeasing detective took their time looking for the word. “incompatible.”

The detective only spared a sweeping glance at the rest of the cafe. “For you or for me?”

Chuckling, the villain raised their coffee cup to their lips. “Tricky, tricky, tricky. Always is with you.” They took an appreciative sip, eyes never leaving the detective. “What is this act you’re putting on? It’s good, believable, but not enough of a constant for me to place any value in it. I don’t appreciate attempts at flattery.”

The first thought was to argue, because why wouldn’t it be? The detective was a professional, their job was to unearth, discover, and find the final truth, the one answer.

Sitting in front of an anthropomorphized file of contradictions with the ability to lie, could, arguably, make the detective jumpy, twitching to argue and argue and argue until that final truth was revealed.

“Maybe it’s not an act.” The detective finally said, not exactly an argument, but a halfway concession, relaxing their muscles, loosening the vice grip on their coffee. “Maybe I’m scared.”

“But not of me.”

“Should I be?”

The villain offered a closed lip smile, one motion away from baring their teeth.

“I don’t so much mind you, my dear detective friend.”

“I don’t care for flattery, either.” The detective said.

“Good thing it wasn’t flattery. You would notice if I were to compliment you.” The villain watched them, particularly their relaxed hands.

The detective managed to rid the urge to move their hands then and there, stayed completely still even as the chill creeped up their spin.

“No, no, not flattery.” The villain continued. “Merely acknowledging the truth. We have a good deal going for each other.” They leaned forward. “Which is why this meeting worries me, why I was unconvinced of your taut facade, your attempts of appeasement.”

The detective straightened, knowing well enough that the villain was mocking their strategy.

“You were hoping to…what? Beg for some sort of help?”

“No.”

“Ask for something, then?”

The detective stayed silent, looking away as the villain stared them down, goading them on in their silent way.

The two did have a good deal going on, and if the detective was wrong, this could ruin that.

But they weren’t wrong.

“There have been whispers, Villain.”

“There tend to be, yes, old friend.”

“About something, someone, coming.” If the villain wanted to respond, the detective wasn’t going to give them a chance. “Now, you know me, you know us, our usual deal. I play both sides of the fence, just barely. Lately, during some of my data tracking for the heroes, I’ve noticed a disturbing pattern.”

“Oh?”

“I’ve been forced to wonder something, I have a question for you. All I need is a simple yes or no-”

“Going to stop you there.” The villain set down their cup, fixing the detective with a colder, less amicable gaze. “I do know our usual deal, which is why I’m insulted now. You wanted information, pertinent, valuable information about something disturbing, and you were hoping to bargain with your fear?”

“Villain-”

Their eyes widened, the table under their fist began to crack.

“Careful.”

The detective couldn’t hide any body language from that, flinching at the tone of voice, tones, that the villain had - a million low voices all merging into one, horrific growl that sent shivers wracking up the detective’s spine, hurting their very bones.

“My guilt!” The detective spat out, ignoring the building bone nausea. “It wasn’t fear. You’re right. I’m not scared, not yet, but I’m guilty, and I will be terrified depending on your answer. If this ends up a yes, then I’m prepared to offer you something that I cannot take back, Villain. I’ll trade in something terrible for the rest of us, if it means I have the smallest chance to prepare.”

Those wide eyes narrowed, but the cracking table at least stopped, and the million low voices returned to one.

“Do tell.”

“Answer me first.”

“Tricky, tricky, trick.” The villain relaxed into their chair, amused now. “I’ll decide if it’s worth answering, Detective. Seem fair? Ask your silly yes or no question.”

Another sweep around the coffee shop, everything going according to how the detective had set up.

“Normally, your type gets quiet, goes under radar before a bigger stunt is pulled. I keep track, alert the proper channels, make sure not too many civvies are in a particular high risk zone at a given day. Some contacts in other big cities have reached out, said it’s been too quiet, everyone’s been too quiet.”

The villain’s amusement had already been fanned like a flame, crossing their arms and watching the detective lay it out for them as if it was some soap opera.

“I’ll spare you too many details, but I have reason to believe something big is being planned for here.” They held up a hand, watching the villain’s eyebrow quirk up. “I just need to know, yes or no, is this happening? Is my home going to be razed down for a personal vendetta? A final heroes vs. villains?”

The villain looked the detective up and down.

“If you knew the answer to that, what would you do?”

“Let you and yours duke it out with the heroes. Take the place if you want, it’s only a place, but I’d like to minimize civvy death count, Villain. I’d get in touch with those channels and start mass evacuation. I’d start it now.”

“And now the fun part.” They leaned in again. “What could you offer me in exchange for this answer? What could bring you of all people to guilt? You, whom I almost respect?”

The detective swallowed, and placed their bag on the table, letting the villain take a look inside.

Body language would make or break this.

“Power dampening cuffs. A prototype. I can’t guarantee they work. But I’m sure if you and yours worked together, you could figure something out.”

For the first time, the villain seemed surprised, hardly giving the prototype cuffs another glance.

“Detective-”

“I can’t guarantee they work.” The detective repeated. “But in this squabble of yours that may or may not be coming up, you could use these, and they would help, I know they would.”

“Hm. And you’ll let me walk out with these and the current schematics if I answer you? What if I lie? You make the wrong call, and I still have these. Maybe I will lie, maybe I want to see you be horribly wrong at such a cost.”

“You don’t.” The detective wasn’t wrong. They weren’t.

“Why’s that?”

“It would be no fun for you. You couldn’t almost respect me if this was the end of our partnership, my too easy failure.”

There was so much the detective was betting on, and knowing the villain was one of them.

The villain was a villain through and through, conniving, powerful, selfish, dangerous. And sometimes, those traits, the selfishness, carried into these little deals of theirs.

No, the villain wouldn’t want this to end without a bang. The villain would want to string along the detective until there was no more use of them.

“In a way,” The villain said, standing and grabbing the bag. “You’re right. It would be no fun. I don’t just want these, though. I want something else.”

“Answer the question, I’ll see what else I can do.”

The villain stared down at the detective for a long time. A minute. Two. Three. Or maybe it was only three seconds, stretched out into the fraying ends of a perfectly planned meeting.

“Yes.” The villain finally said. “The answer is yes, something is coming.”

The detective stood, not too quickly. “Thank you. I appreciate that. What do you want? Codes to inaccessible areas? You can have them as soon as-”

Reaching across, the villain grasped the detective’s shoulder. “The ramifications of razing this city down, as you so put, were lost on me. How could you and I keep this up if you’re running off, evacuating with the other saps?” They watched how the detective’s eyes flitted to the villain’s hand. “What I want, Detective, is to keep having fun.”

“Villain, there’s not much you or I can do to continue this deal of ours if there’s all out super war-”

“You play for heroes and villains, or, excuse me, just barely.” Their hand tightened on the detective’s shoulder. “Let’s see what sort of fun we can have with that.”

Before the detective could open their mouth, the villain smiled, and the two disappeared.

[wh3nturtlesfly]

CW: Suggestive

“You’re late.” The lamp beside the couch flickered on, and with it Villain’s displeased expression emerged.

“You’re trespassing.” Hero shrugged off their coat and made the rest of the way inside, trying to ignore the glare trained on their every movement. Hero grimaced at the charred fabric of their uniform, a setback that had nearly gotten them hurt tonight.

“You didn’t answer my calls. All six times.”

“I was busy,” Hero rubbed their tired eyes. Muscles sore from the fight, they were hardly in the mood for Villain’s attitude. Their nemesis clearly had other ideas.

It only took a beat for Villain to cross the room, slinking through the shadows with a feline grace. Hero hadn’t caught the movement until Villain was close, eyes dark as they pulled the closet door shut.

“I thought we'd discussed this before,” Villain’s voice had dropped dangerously low. They inched closer, forcing Hero back. “You know I don’t like it when you’re out for so long.”

“It was an emergency,” Hero caught Villain’s wrists before they could fully pin them against the wall. Their partner only scoffed, eyes alight with something dangerous.

Villain leaned close, their lips brushing lightly over Hero’s jaw. Hero shuddered. “I highly doubt it was pressing enough,” Villain edged closer, “Especially not to deprive me of our precious time together.”

The corners of their lips turned up and through half-lidded eyes Villain gazed upon Hero. Their Hero. “Since you decided to be gone for so long-,” they trailed a teasing finger down the Hero’s torso, thumbing at the hem of their shirt and earning a lovely shiver in return, “I’ll show you how much I missed you.”

Villain lunged forward, pressing their lips to the Hero’s throat.

A gasp escaped the crimefighter, words completely forgotten the moment Villain trailed down farther. They worked across the Hero’s collarbone, gentle where their previous battle had left scrapes and burns. Still, when it came to the rest of Hero, they were anything but careful.

With a hand on either side of their waist, Villain bracketed Hero’s form. They pressed closer, a devilish smile gracing their face each time they paused to catch a breath. Hero bit hard on the inside of their cheek if only to keep from falling apart. The feeling of Villain’s lips across their skin was intoxicating and soon they had threaded a hand through the Villain’s hair to pull them closer.

Villain finally managed to meet them at the lips and Hero melted. It was exactly what their nemesis had wanted. A grin overtook their features before they surged forward, taking the Hero all for their own. Villain’s cool fingers managed to wander their way under their shirt and a shiver sent its way up the Hero’s spine. They gasped into the Villain’s mouth, and received a low chuckle in return.

Just as fast as it had begun, Villain broke away, smirking when Hero chased after them. They stopped them with a finger to their lips, “So eager,” Villain hummed and trailed the same finger down the Hero’s jaw, descending further to dip just under the collar of their shirt, “I warned you what happens when you cross me.”

They leaned forward again, just enough to press a chaste kiss to the Hero’s cheek. A sultry smile emerged on Villain’s face. “So now love, have you learned your lesson?”

It took a moment for the Hero to process it, caught up on the pure bliss that filled their core. Slowly their eyes met that of their partners and they managed to get out a small nod.

Villain chuckled, “That’s good.” They held the Hero close, carding a hand gently through their hair. “No other Villain deserves you. You are mine, and I am yours.” Villain’s eyes slid shut, overcome with delight as they trailed their fingers across their Hero’s skin. “Believe me when I say I’ll follow you to the ends of the earth.”

Hero sighed, overcome with delight. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

[amethystpath-writes]

No, No, No

NOT A PR0MPT

I present to you /*…a vampire snippet. Yippee! Tough themes: character death, a little bit of blood- not descriptive, possessive and manipulative villain. Arguably not the worst, but worth mentioning :p

******

“Hero, we need to-” Lover’s voice was cut off with a loud bang. Hero would have screamed if her ears hadn’t rang out first, but the sound was so loud that any and all processors went out the window.

In a daze, she looked behind her. What happened? What was that sound? Was it really Lover’s voice she heard? Where was he? Hero held her head to settle the swaying of her vision.

“I warned him.” The footsteps entering her room was what drew her attention to Lover.

A shrill gasp filled her ears. It was her. Her gasp. Lover’s body. Her tears. On his red chest.

She found him, and oh, how she wished she hadn’t.

“No,” she heard herself say. “No, no, no, no, no!”

“He could have left. I gave him the opportunity to, but oh no. Poor. Hero.”

Hero couldn’t stop the no’s from spilling. She tripped over them, mumbled and groaned and cried, rocked back on her heels and rested her knees against Lover’s back. “Say something. Lover, stay with me, please.”

She hadn’t paid attention as to where the steps came from, where they were going, or even where they stopped. If she had been paying attention, she would know the footsteps stopped where Lover’s head lay, where she was crying and shaking her partner’s body. So much hope, and what for?

“Come on, up you get.”

Hero wasn’t sure of the words leaving her mouth. All she knew was that she was screaming so hard that her voice could no longer be heard. Not by herself, not by the man hefting her over a shoulder, and certainly not by Lover, who Hero now realized was in a pool of something glistening.

The moonlight filtered through so perfectly through Hero’s room at night. It only brightened her room after 3am, so she didn’t get to bask in it often. Had the circumstances been different tonight, Hero would have ran to her window and watched the moon until she could hardly keep her eyes open. The light was bright enough to lull her to sleep, and dim enough that it barely reminded her of what she was as it touched her skin.

“You can’t leave him! You can’t leave!” The pool, she finally realized, was blood. Lover was bleeding out. Of course, his chest was red earlier, when she pressed her head aside it, but Hero thought…well, Hero was in shock. She didn’t think anything.

“The money is in bringing you back alive. No matter for anything else.”

The word ‘money’ did not register in Hero’s brain. This man was being paid to kidnap her by any means necessary, including killing Lover and leaving him to rot on the floor of their bedroom.

She swung her legs into her captor’s legs, trying to aim higher or lower- wherever his more sensitive spots were. She felt disoriented, but she punched and kicked and kneed and-

“You keep doing that and you’re not going to like the consequences.”

But Hero wasn’t good at listening, especially when it came down to large, burly men carrying her over a shoulder. She screamed, “Put me down!” until there was a rasp in her voice.

The man obliged, bouncing his shoulder so that Hero’s body became unhooked from his own. However, he kept hold of her legs so that they acted as a fulcrum. Hero’s body fell back and she had only a moment to realize that she was about to hit the ground.

In the next moment, Hero was opening her eyes against weights on her lashes. She was tired- so tired.

“You look unwell. Go back to sleep, doll.”

Her eyes were already half-closed by the time the voice spoke. She easily agreed with it. She didn’t feel well, as much as she was sure she looked unwell.

But then again, her eyes were opened, and though she was unsure whether it was the same moment, or another undetermined amount of time, she wasn’t susceptible to suggestion.

A groan escaped her lips as she drearily blinked. All she could focus on was the intense throbbing at the back of her head. Hero touched a finger to it. She gasped, not at the pain which erupted at her own touch, but at the fact that everything she thought she remembered, every hazy detail, was real. “Lover.”

“Not quite.”

Her head snapped up, taking in the room she sat in for the first time. And not just the room. Villain.

“Where am I?” she demanded, though her voice shook.

The room was grey, and Hero could only tell by the hand-width slit in the wall, which allowed for one beam of sunlight to come through. Aside from Villain standing across the beam of light, the room was empty.

“You’re home, with me,” Villain said. When Hero didn’t respond, he continued, “I heard you put up quite the fight.”

Why wouldn’t she? Large men walking into her room after her partner just…“Where is he?”

Villain returned her question with a smile. With just the barest daylight seeping through, Hero could only slightly see the wicked teeth that scared her away so long ago, the ones she found her tongue rubbing against in her own mouth. She recoiled from herself.

“You think Lover was your friend?”

“He was my partner.”

He began stepping forward, slowly, as if preparing to comfort Hero. “He was hindering you, my sweet, from your full potential.”

Her gums were throbbing, something that hadn’t happened since she and Lover became an item. Even when the man broke in, Hero felt more confused than fearful or defensive.

“You cannot change what you are.”

“I wouldn’t even be this if it wasn’t for you,” she bit back. Her gums hurt badly enough that a short whine escaped her.

“Do you know why it hurts?” Villain asked. “Your head, your gums, Lover’s death?”

Death? No, he wasn’t dead. Sure, he was injured, and badly at that, but no, Lover wasn’t dead; he couldn’t be.

“It’s because you ran, Hero. I was willing to help you adjust, to grow into what you are, but you refuse to embrace it. You want that pain to go away, don’t you?”

Her pain had nothing to do with her running. If anything, she should have run away so much sooner. In fact, never knowing Villain would have been the best. He was a predator, a killing machine. And now, Hero was just the same- or would be, if she didn’t choose to control her urges.

“I’ve dealt with the pain for long enough.” And it was true, she had. “I don’t need to conform to it, or whatever it is you’re trying to convince me to do. I don’t need this,” she said. “I don’t need you.”

“You love me,” the villain said. “And I know you do because I can feel your heart beating from here.” Here, being two feet away from her. Still, it was a distance that no regular human would sense a heartbeat from.

“I am terrorized by you. I am horrified and I’m scared.” She didn’t want to give him the upper hand or any advantage of the situation, but what didn’t Villain already have? He was suave and he got his way with anyone. He was strong- mentally and physically, and it wasn’t just because of his theory of ‘leaning into vampirism.’ He killed Lover- no, not killed. He hurt Lover, and Hero was going to get him back.

“You’re still thinking of the mortal.”

“Get out of my head.”

“You can come back to me, Hero. That- that temptation is gone, and I’m here for you. I’ll help you adjust.”

“Stay away from me,” she blurted as Villain took a step towards her. “Stay away from me. I don’t want you. I will never love you, Villain. Never.”

Now this…this stopped Villain in his tracks. While his emotions were known for being hidden, now they were ever clear. Anger. Disgust. Vengeance.

“You’ll learn,” he said. “You’ll learn that you need me more than the very blood in your veins. When you’re starved- because you don’t have that little blood bag you called Lover- you will beg me to love you like I did. You’ll beg me to give you another chance. And because I won’t bow to you, bow to you like I did the moment I turned you, you’ll stand in that window until you burn.”

Hero felt the heat of him, the anger pulsating against the beating of her heart. Whether she liked it or not, the two of them were synced.

“When you fall, it will be no one’s fault but your own. I offered my love. You denied it.”

With this, Villain left, and Hero cried in his wake.

[the-broken-pen]

if ur doing requests, I would absolutely looveeee anything w enemies being forced to work together/fake dating <3 thank you!

“Smile, hero,” the villain murmured. “There’s photographers.”

The hero pulled back, looping her arms over his shoulders as he looked softly at her. Cameras flashed out of the corner of her eye, and she grinned at him, digging her nails into the back of his neck.

He hid his wince with a smile.

“Maybe stop trying to rip out my spinal cord in public, love.”

“Sorry babe.” She smiled wider. “I’ll save it for the bedroom.”

His hands settled on her waistline, tugging her flush against him.

“Oh, hero,” he pressed his lips to her ear. “And when my blood is on your hands, what then? The public adores you, but do you really think they won’t slaughter you for ruining their ‘golden couple’?”

She had to turn her face into the side of his neck to hide her snarl, because he was right. Her superiors knew who he was. They knew who they forced her to work with, stand with, fall in love with. And they had her do it anyways, because they looked pretty together in pictures, and the media couldn’t decide if they wanted to be with them or be them.

The perfect pair—the golden couple.

“Hmm?”

She could feel him grinning, real this time, all cat like satisfaction and cruel amusement.

“Go fuck yourself,” she hissed, and he laughed.

“Sorry, what was that?”

She put her palm to his chest and shoved, grabbing his lapel.

“I love you,” she breathed, soft with adoration. Someone cooed, and the camera flashed.

His smile was sharp.

“Oh,” he agreed, “I know.”

Someone reached for her arm, and he caught it before they could touch her. For a moment, just a moment, she saw that writhing mass of power beneath, the darkness he hid so well with a smile.

“Sorry, sorry,” the person apologized as the villain released their hand. “I figured I should introduce myself—”

“Colonel,” the villain greeted, and the man shook his hand. He almost reached for hers, then thought better of it, eyes darting to the villain. Anger flared in the pit of her stomach.

“You’re enjoying yourselves?”

She smoothed a hand down the side of her dress, beaming. “Oh, absolutely, I—”

The villain wrapped a hand around her waist and tugged, pressing her against him. She slammed her foot into his.

“We should be going,” he said pointedly, and the Colonel swallowed once. He disappeared into the crowd and she whirled on the villain, eyes flashing.

“God, can you be less possessive?”

“They know who I am. You think they expect me to play nice, especially when I’m clearly so taken with you?”

He looked out over the floor, eyes catching on everyone who was pretending not to watch them. She glared at him.

“You—’’

“Hero, you’re going to be the death of me.”

“That’s the plan,” she snapped, and his smile was real again. She didn’t resist as he tugged her closer.

“I think maybe I could love you,” he said casually, and before she could manage a response he twined his fingers through her hair and kissed her.

It was like being swallowed by the sun. She melted into him and he kissed her like she was everything, as if he took every breath for one more chance to see her face, every heartbeat for another second to spend with her.

They broke apart, and she was gasping, his grip on her hair the only thing keeping her up.

He winked, smirking, like he knew that and was proud of it.

Her lipstick was smeared on his mouth. He tasted like cinnamon.

This would be splashed across the news by midnight.

“I hate you,” she reminded him, half breathless. At some point her hands had ended up in his hair.

“Maybe,” he grinned roguishly. “But you love the way I kiss you.”

And he kissed her again.

[mentalityofacoolduck]

Prompt #3

Warning: yandere themes

Supervillain assigns Villain to fight Hero. Villain and Hero engage in fights and banters and eventually grow to become good friends, even though they're on opposite sides. As time passes, Villain develops feeling for Hero and decides to confess. Hero rejects Villain, because them being together could put them both in danger. Eventually, Villain's innocent crush turns into something more sinister, and they begin stalking Hero and prevent any other Villain from fighting them. They start acting creepy and possessive, and it eventually gets so bad even Supervillain notices. Supervillain gets so creeped out by Villain's behavior, they take it upon themselves to protect Hero from Villain.

[faenemy]

A pristine suit-

An elegant operatic mask-

Months of planning-

Wasted.

All because a certain someone couldn’t keep their mouth shut. Alas, attempting to scam your business associates is never exactly a good idea, especially when the existing agreement between the two parties is… fragile, to put it gently. Everett had always preached that the only way to run this world, their world, was through connections, the more relations to power, the more people in their pockets, the better. Their dear cohorts, however, seemed to disagree with this sentiment. Otherwise, they doubted they would be here now.

Everett could barely stand to imagine those two, from them proposing this stupid sham of a deal in the first place to ratting them out the second they had a chance, to-

Gunshots echoed through the halls, interrupting their train of thought, being significantly too close for Everett’s comfort. Not a second after, the villain Arcane appeared behind, disheveled and quaking with fury. His eyes shone white as he aimed, then fired, at Everett. Screaming as a bullet embedded itself into their leg, Everrett whipped around toward their attacker. If this was the game Arcane wanted to play, then he should have chosen a different opponent. The room lit up in an electric flash, lights sparking and shattering, before falling into complete darkness. With an arc of their hands, waves of power were sent across the room, scorching all they touched. A violent shriek could be heard in the darkness, but Everett had no time to check if their target had survived, and, grabbing the nearest wall for support, they ran.

It was times like these that they were most grateful to have always memorized the layout of the building, in which an exchange would take place before they had even stepped foot inside. With the help of small surges of energy to light their way, they managed to find their way into a corridor with one flickering, neon exit sign straight ahead. Hobbling over to the door and propping themselves against a wall, Everett reached down to examine their leg. In the dim red glow, red could barely make out the lodged bullet, however, they could regrettably still feel it. They tore at their suit, ripping off a chunk to use as a bandage, hoping to stall the blood loss slightly.

Grunting, they pushed the emergency door open, hit suddenly with the cold night air. A million stars twinkled overhead, but they were not the only thing staring down at them from above. For there stood their now ex-comrade, Forge, a smug grin plastered across his half-covered face, not but three floors over where Everett exited. With no time to lose, Everett raced down the stairs, Forge hot on their heels. The man threw himself over the railing, hoisting himself up onto the floor below.

“How are you feeling tonight, friend?” called the villain, spitting out the last word as though it was fire to the tongue.

“I- What were you thinking, Forge? Never mind, don’t bother answering that, I don’t want to hear your bullshit reasoning.”

“I was thinking about how you don’t seem to help me nearly as much as you hinder.”

With that declaration, Forge aimed a burning punch at them. The wall behind them cracked, melting rapidly at the point of contact. Everett knew that making any physical exposure to Forge would leave them howling and hoping for some damn Neosporin. Another adrenaline-filled day, another flashy fight, another disastrous show. But they could avoid all the pain Forge brought with ease, if only they could stick their performance’s final landing.

Pushing themselves off the fire escape's railing with as much force as they could muster, Everett took one last look at their friend, and the moment their feet left the metal, electrified the entire steel staircase. A look of horror flashed through Forge’s eyes before they were overcome by agony. Everett had heard plenty of screaming and crying in their time, with much being caused by their own hand, but nothing could have prepared them to listen to those of their once closest friend.

A whimper of pain escaped their lips as they landed roughly on the ground below. Everett attempted to rise to their feet but found themselves crumbling under their own weight. If their leg hadn’t been messed up before, then it was safe to say it was now. The impromptu bandage was a bloody mess, Everetts's side ached from where they had hit the ground. Each breath was a struggle as they were left gasping for air. They weren’t safe here, in a hotel parking lot, their now enemy mere feet away. Groaning, they tried to pull themselves away from the wreckage that they had left behind. Their vision swam with stars as every inch of their body cried out in anguish.

Crack

Their back collided harshly with the brick wall behind them, as they were pulled up by the collar and thrown. Their attacker stood, fists raised, prepared to finish what Arcane had started. They say people fight the hardest when backed into a corner, and with adrenaline flowing furiously through their veins, Everett hoped the saying was true. Maneuvering past the first blow, but falling victim to the second, they felt their mask fly off their face, losing what small but valuable protection it had given. When the third hit came, Everett reached up to intercept it, aiming a well-timed kick to their opponent’s gut. Thrashing they were dragged to the ground by their assailant. Their opponent was larger, and more experienced in physical combat, and it showed as Everett found themselves taking a brutal fist to the face, followed by a knee to the gut.

They attempted to end this fight, to throw thunder from their fingertips just to find- nothing. There on their wrist, a suppressor cuff. It had been latched on during the scuffle without them noticing.

Oh God no

Everett felt the blood rushing down their face, they heard the suffering screams, yet they could barely recognize them as their own. They weren’t ready to die, not yet. This wasn't part of the plan. This wasn't in the script.

The brunette braced themselves for pain, pain that would never come. Instead, they felt their assailant's weight lifted from their chest, as they were pulled off the ground and into steady arms. Muffled words were spoken above them, but the sounds meant nothing to Everett, only the warmth and care with which their savior cradled them. Fingers ghosted over the wound on their leg, while Everett couldn’t help but flinch at the pain it sparked.

Shouts echoed, nothing but white noise that fell upon Everett’s uncaring ears as the gentle arms holding them slipped away. They tried to grasp them, to beg their angel to stay, but their body had long fallen into a state of resistance. Though their vision blurred and their head spun violently, Everett opened their eyes to see a blonde woman, hair streaked with vibrant pink, standing defensively in front of them. A white swan-like mask hid her face from view, a stark contrast to the black of her suit. She was a hero then.

Their hero.

Whatever fool had tried to approach the pair was floored in seconds, caught in an unseen web, unknowing of their entrance into the spider’s lair. With a flick of her wrist, their hero tightened the individual’s unseen restraints, circling them before latching a pair of suppressor cuffs onto them. Everett found themselves searching through fuzzy memories for any recollection of a hero with similar abilities or appearance. In their hazy state, all that they could turn up were blanks.

They were pulled out of their musings as raised voices accompanied by thundering footsteps approached.

“Stay here. I’ll take care of this, alright?” the blonde turned her back to them, stepping toward the sound.

Everett stared as the woman lifted herself into the air, suspending herself pointedly overhead, observing as she made an odd motion with her hands. As a man rounded the corner, most likely trying to track Everett down, they were a wanted criminal after all, their hero lunged. She swung downward, the man’s skull collided with the concrete with a horrid sound. A bullet whizzed by her as she flipped back up and into the air. It was less like Everett was watching a clash and closer to them viewing an orchestrated performance. Each maneuver was made in elegant swings and every attack was delivered in graceful leaps. The star themself paled in the glory of the woman before them.

“Are you alright? I mean- You didn’t get hurt any further, right?” the blonde questioned.

The question flew right past Everett, for the woman's mask had been torn slightly in the fight, allowing them a glimpse of soft auburn eyes.

"I.. your"

Though their words failed them, Everett’s vague gesturing toward the hero's face seemed to get their point across.

"Oh, uh thank you, I didn't even notice that."

Through the gap in her mask, Everett swore that their hero's cheeks took on a rosy hue. She bent down, taking their injured leg into her hands and carefully examining it. The hero reached up to her ear, Everett hearing a soft click before she began to speak.

“Primo- yes, I’m alright. There’s a civilian, a staff member?” she shot Everett a questioning look as she spoke. They nodded quickly in reply, having forgotten that they had lost their mask in the fray. Their hero probably assumed they were some poor hotel employee caught up in a villainous team-up gone wrong. A witness who had almost been eliminated for simply being at the wrong place, at the wrong time. They doubted that any hero would treat them with such kindness if they were aware of Everett’s actual profession.

“-needing serious medical attention- Out where the fire escape should lead to, in the parking lot… I have a few wrapped up down here. Yep, I’ll be with you soon.”

Another click sounded, and their hero turned toward them to speak.

“Alright, there’s a healer on their way right now, they’ll be here in a moment, I promise. Just hold on a little longer, ok?”

Though Everett’s head was swimming, they gave their hero a small smile, nodding. Their gesture was seemingly returned by the hero, though the lower half of her face was covered, Everett could swear they felt it. Focusing on the cold brick digging into their skin from behind, they attempted to ground themselves, for they weren’t safe yet. Would the heroes try and move them to a medical facility? They couldn’t risk their identity being exposed, after all. Currently, Everett appeared to be nothing more than a civilian, but if that defense fell, they would be left injured and vulnerable. But none of that would matter if Everett died beforehand, so here they sat, waiting to be saved by the enemy.

Their hero seemed to catch on to Everett’s distress, for out came rambles of fairytales they hadn’t heard since childhood. They wondered if she had used this to calm children down before or if it was what she defaulted to when someone was stressed. Everett couldn’t deny that it was a good distraction from the pain, a hero sitting side by side with a villain, energetically recollecting the tale of Rumpelstiltskin, hands gesturing rapidly in emotion. Telling the villain of a miller’s daughter and an impish man who spun straw into gold. As their hero began to speak of the woman’s second night in the king’s captivity, she cut her story short.

Looking up, they watched as their hero waved someone, they presumed the healer she had spoken of, over. Crouching down, the two exchanged a few words before their hero gave a quick two-finger salute, departing. With a flick of her wrist, the woman leaped into her own unseen web, climbing up and to the entrance of the top floor.

Everett watched as she disappeared from their sight, feeling the healer’s powers spread through their side. The pain spiked and then subsided as their body swiftly rehabilitated itself. Questions flew from the hero’s mouth the second that Everett seemed in a proper condition to answer them. Who do you work for? Why were you attacked? What and who did you see? Why are you wearing a power suppressor? Playing the part of the fool, Everett allowed themselves to burst into tears, crying about how they just wanted to go home, how they didn’t mean to enter the wrong room- how they had been shot at and hit, thrown out the fire escape- Obviously their sob story worked as the healer hastily tried to comfort them, they weren’t nearly as good at it as their hero, and after prying away the suppressor, promised to deliver them to an area in which they would be safe, or at least away from the fighting.

Though the healer remained concerned, Everett could tell they were needed elsewhere, and with little convincing, managed to be left alone just outside the hotel's gates. As the hero turned to leave, Everett heard their communicator click softly, before calling a name, Puppeteer. Like being doused with an ice-cold bucket of water, they were awoken from their stupor. Puppeteer was a recently debuted hero, being on the field as a hero, not as a sidekick for only a few months. Her power? Strings of fate. The ability to create and manipulate linear structures, strings, if you would, being visible to her and her alone.

That was their hero.

With a sigh and no hope of getting a proper ride tonight, they begrudgingly walked to the nearest bus stop. Nothing like being chaffered to a high-end hotel, dressed to impress, and leaving at the end of the night a mess, in multiple ways. At least something good came from the night. Puppeteer, they tried the name out on their tongue, just to find it less than satisfactory. How they wished to speak to their hero freely, to learn who she was under the mask, to call her by her name, and not a title that some higher-up had chosen.

But for now, she was just that, Puppeteer, and they were just another civilian she had saved. Oh, how they hoped to change that fact. How they would.

What have I done AHhhhhhh constructive criticism is welcome but please be gentle cause I'm fragile, thanks for reading and have a lovely day/night

[a-scary-lack-of-common-sense]

ANTAGONIST FIDDLEFORD❗️⁉️❗️❗️💥💥💥 FUCK SHIT UP BABYGIRL, I BELIEVE WOMEN'S RIGHTS AND WRONGS <33

30 years ago, during Ford and Bill's fallout; instead of threatening to steal Ford's eyeballs, Bill just goes ahead and steals Fiddleford's! Which then further leads to Fiddleford parting ways with Ford as his research assistant.

In my perfect world, where my AU is a 40-episode fully animated show; this episode would reveal the seemingly unsuspecting Old Man Mcgucket as the leader of a powerful secret cult of memory erasure. Mcgucket, believing Ford to still be under the influence of "the demon that stares," kidnaps him and attempts to "exorcise"/erase the so-called demon out of Ford's brain.

However, with the metal plate bolted into Ford's skull not only keeping out demons such as Bill, but also keeping them in; Bill is forced to instead take over Ford's body with nowhere else to go. Together with the twins who've come to rescue their Grunkle Ford, they frantically run from a hoard of cultists and their terrifying leader.

The twins discover that their Grunkle Ford's past goes much deeper than they had originally anticipated, and that their Uncle Bill isn't who they think he is....

[villain-enthusiast]

tw: very toxic/possessive relationship and behavior, captivity

“Would it hurt you to smile a little more?” the villain mused, eyes trained on the reflection of the hero in the vanity’s mirror.

“Hard to do when there’s nothing to smile about,” the hero muttered, shifting uncomfortably in their seat. The villain had given them—or rather forced them into—an intentionally revealing outfit for the night.

The hero hated the villain’s parties. They hated the false luxury of it, the wealthy spectacles, the self-conceited conversations of people whose money was bought through blood. They wouldn’t let themselves get swept away in any of it—not when they knew of the people suffering beyond the villain’s gilded walls.

But if they wanted to live, if they were ever going to have a chance of making it out of this hellhole, they had to tolerate it. They had to pretend they liked it all—the sheer shirts, fine wine, the penetrative gaze of the clamoring guests…

“I’ve given you so much to smile about.” The villain tilted their head in a similar way a snake does to analyze its prey. “Silk clothes, a warm bed, good food.” A corner of their lips tilted up seductively before they added, “My love.”

A shudder ran down the hero’s spine and they looked away from the mirror, determined to avoid the villain’s possessive expression.

Fast as lighting, the villain’s hand shot out and grabbed the hero’s chin, forcing their face back towards their reflection. They squeezed their eyes shut. They didn’t want to look at themselves anymore, didn’t want to see how vulnerable they were, laid bare for the the hunger in the villain’s eyes—

“Darling,” the villain purred, the word dripping with venom. “By now you should know what the rules are.”

“We’re not at the party yet,” the hero retaliated. “I don’t need to follow any rules—,”

The villain’s fingers dug painfully into their jaw and the hero inhaled sharply, cracking their eyes back open.

They could do nothing as the villain tilted their head back ever so slightly, just enough to keep their eyes locked on the mirror while the villain leaned down to press feather-light kisses to their exposed throat.

Helpless. Just the way the villain liked it. The hero’s eyes burned with the embarrassment of it all.

“And here I’d thought we were past your disobedient stages,” the villain murmured against the hero’s skin, sending goosebumps skittering down their jugular. “Do I need to remind you who you belong to?”

I don’t belong to anyone, the hero wanted to snap, but they held their tongue, knowing better than to answer with such defiance.

The hand holding the hero’s chin trailed down to curl around their neck, the villain’s thumb fitting right over the hero’s racing pulse. Their free hand brushed slyly over the hero’s bare abdomen, tracing sensitive circles up and down their torso.

It was too much. Too overwhelming. The hero couldn’t stop the whimper that clawed up their throat, and at the way the villain’s eyes flashed with lust, the hero wanted to risk looking away all over again.

“I want you to say it, Hero.” The villain tilted their head in that predatory way again. “Who do you belong to?”

The hero swallowed. Their skin flushed with heat, even with the sparse amount of clothing they had on. They knew what game the villain was playing at, knew what part they had to act, but they still hesitated.

I don’t belong to anyone, I don’t belong to anyone…

The villain’s grasp on their throat tightened in warning, enough for the hero’s breath to hitch. “Say it,” they whispered, deadly.

“You,” the hero bit out. “I belong to you.” Their eyes shuttered as they fought the instinct to close their eyes and pretend that the shame gnawing through them was just as fake as their words.

The villain smirked. “Good.” They let go of the hero’s throat and ruffled their hair in a mocking show of playfulness, as if whatever just happened was all a joke. “I’ll be back in five to take you to the guests.” They made their way to the exit and paused at the doorway. “Oh, and do me a favor and smile a bit more when we get down there. You are mine, after all.”

Only when the door slammed shut behind the villain did the hero finally close their eyes, silent tears tracking down their cheeks as the villain’s words echoed incessantly through their head.

[poobirdy]

a bingqiu witches x xianxia fusion, as prompted by cass and fulfilled as part of an ongoing fundraising event at svsss gotcha 4 gaza!

[caker-baker]

Placate

The hero wanted to believe it was one of their friends, an agency member, someone else, anyone else, they would have taken a burglar at this point.

But no. No friend, agency member, or burglar would leave the front door open so purposefully, so dauntingly.

They knew this day would come, they just didn’t imagine it would be so soon.

The light turned on.

“Where have you been?” The villain asked from the lounge chair, petting the hero’s cat.

It was very obviously a rhetorical question, the villain knew where the hero had been, because now the villain was here, too.

The hero’s eyes flicked down to their purring cat comfortable in the villain’s lap, back up to the villain’s expectant face.

“I was–am on an assignment.” They wondered how fast they would have to be to get their cat and then get to the panic button.

Not fast enough.

If they needed to be placating, they could be. It would what drew the villain to them, they knew that now.

“An assignment that takes six months?” The villain asked, lazily waving their free hand around. “An assignment that gives you this? It’s cutesy, comfortable. Too small for my taste, but you know that.”

It was a test hidden behind poisonously pleasant words.

Will you be telling me the truth? Are you foolish enough to lie?

A question the hero didn’t want to answer, but there were limited options.

Placate, placate, placate.

“It’s my final assignment.” The hero clenched their fists, nails digging into skin, forcing upon them clarity to think, a reminder not to stutter, not to feel. “Going civilian, for my safety.”

“Oh?” The villain’s eyes widened for a fraction of a second. “Do tell. What was so dangerous that your little agency felt the need to give you an identity change?

Another test.

“It was noted that the others–other–other villains,” The hero forced themselves to take a breath in, and clenched their fists even harder. “were targeting me, thinking it would hurt you.”

“Mm.” The villain cocked their head to the side, looking at the hero in an indecipherable way.

Disappointment? Amusement? Hunger?

The hero was never able to tell.

“Well. I can admit my faults, but this is an easy fix, my darling. I’ll handle the others. Now, the car’s been running just a bit too long, so if we could?”

The villain stood, still holding the hero’s cat.

“I can’t.” The hero’s fists unclenched, wondering if their cat could be swayed to jump from the villain’s arms. “I signed a contract. If I re-emerge, I could be considered an active threat, measures would be taken against me, um, I can’t.”

The villain smiled. “Now that is a bigger problem, but I could garner a few solutions. Come along, we can even bring…” They trailed off, looking at the cat’s name tag. “Chestnut.”

“I’ll become a public enemy. I don’t own the name Hero, I just use it, I–”

“And that’s the very problem, isn’t it?” The villain let Chestnut jump from their arms, watching the hero’s shoulders relax ever so slightly. “This day and age of heroics and villainy, it’s all very theatrical. We used to do this because of values, morals, plans for world domination.”

They gave the hero a once over.

“The other heroes are good at the limelight, thrive, even, it’s the whole reason they sign the contracts and take the name, but they can’t beat you in character, and the numbers of casualties in their fights versus yours speaks volumes. You weren’t good at the attention, not until I got to you, at least.”

“And I thank you for the help, but I’m done with the cameras, interviews, the saving people.”

“What a shame. You used to talk about being a symbol, about helping people, a hero through and through, not any of that pretending you’re a movie star. It’s what makes you…”

“Malleable?”

“I was going to say unique. No need for the dramatics.”

When the hero didn’t respond, didn’t move, didn’t even look like they were breathing, the villain’s polite mask dropped.

The hero hated that, how easily the villain could switch around their personality. They also hated the villain’s unblinking eyes.

The villain could blink, the hero was sure, but whenever it was just the two of them, the villain always made sure to be constantly watching.

“As I said, I can think of a few solutions to your problems.” They held out an expectant hand. “Shall we?”

“You were using me.” The hero blurted out. “You weren’t trying to help me be better, you were–you were–”

“I was what?”

“Making me into a tool. You would have turned me into a monster.”

The villain scoffed. “A monster? Please. You would have been beloved by the world, no contract or agency could hold you, you would have been second to none.”

“Except you.” The hero noticed that Chestnut was curling around the villain’s legs, slowly realizing that their best option at this point might have been to turn heel. “I would have been second to none except you.”

The villain smiled again, though it looked more like an animal bearing their teeth in annoyance.

“Eventually not. Once we’ve finished with the others, all the theatrics and the celebrity treatment, we could begin the real work. We could be equals, my darling.”

“You were manipulating me so that you could have the perfect opponent?” The hero felt bile rise in their throat.

There was evidence of the villain using them, solid proof shown directly after that scolding from the agency for allowing a villain to mentor them, but to hear it from the villain themselves was something else entirely.

“Twist my words in whatever way you’ll have. We both win. You won’t have to worry about the performance of being a hero, you can simply go out and save the day how you like. Tell me it’s not tempting. Now, it has been a treat tracking you down, my darling, they hid you well, but I must insist we leave. There’s a long drive ahead of us.”

“No.”

Chestnut had wandered closer to the hero.

“Ah, would you prefer we fly? It’s not my favorite, but–”

“I’m not going with you.” They reached down slowly, picking up Chestnut, hoping to make it look as though they were holding her for comfort.

The villain watched, their jaw clenched, anger barely concealed.

“I made you.” They seethed through an unusually quiet voice. “And if I have to, I will break you, and build you up again.”

The hero took a step back. “Find another hero to manipulate.”

With a deep breath, the villain collected themselves, never breaking eye contact with the hero.

“You know, part of the plan was to make you fall in love with me.” They admitted, taking only a step forward to match the hero’s step back. “Or at least have you grow fond enough of me that you wouldn’t betray me so easily. But obviously, it didn’t work. Lucky for the both of us, I can work with fear. You have an abundance of that, don’t you?”

The hero turned heel.

There was no placating a villain.

[wh3nturtlesfly]

For the prompt event- 13 and N please!

It appears great minds think alike, thank you for the request from both of you!

13, N: Mind Control, “Thought you could run from me, didn’t you?”

“Thought you could run from me, didn’t you?” The voice came from behind them. Hero thrashed in the trap locking their ankles to the floor. The metal cuffs bit back and it was an effort not to topple over. Laughing filled the corridor and along with it, a dark shadow.

“So noble, it must be humiliating to appear so weak, so… helpless.” Finally Villain emerged, crossing the tiles with a feline grace. They circled the area and allowed their hand to trail over the counters. Beakers clinked beneath their touch, filled to the brim with deadly concoctions.

Hero’s hands tightened around the vial in their hands. They had been lucky not to drop it when the trap was triggered. Something so dangerous had to be discarded properly, destroyed for certain.

Villain’s interest peaked. “You’ve found one of my little toys too, how adorable.” They stepped closer and Hero flinched back. Such movements left them stumbling, though Villain snaked a hand around their waist before they could tip back. “Careful, I wouldn’t want your fragile bones to snap. I’ve heard the manacles can be quite unforgiving.” Their gaze fell onto the trap, lips splitting into a grin.

“Let me go,” Hero hissed. Though their arms were still free, they couldn’t risk dropping the solution. Without their legs, their movement was already hindered greatly. It seemed their hands truly were tied, and the Villain knew it all too well.

They chuckled, “You know I can’t do that, not when you have something of mine.” Villain reached towards the Hero who tried to pull away. It was useless. Villain’s hand slid around their wrist easily, constricting until the vial loosened in their hands. They caught it before it could clatter to the floor.

The solution was a deep violet in color. Bubbles swirled around the surface, glittering almost like stars, though what was inside held nothing of beauty. “I assume you know what this can do,” Villain waved the vial in front of Hero’s vision. They let their nails bite into Hero’s skin when they tried to grasp for the object.

“Other than hurting innocent people?” Hero’s eyes narrowed. They winced as Villain’s finger slid up from their wrist, moving to rest under their chin. Deep green eyes locked with their own, piercing as they were forced into Villain’s gaze.

“Hurt, or persuade?” Villain smiled, “Mind control seems to be nothing harmful, especially when it goes down so easily.” The vial swished as they twirled it between their fingers.

“You’re a monster,” they grit between their teeth.

“A monster?” The Villain almost looked offended, “No, nonono…if anything my dear, I am a genius. And you are quite wrong in the purpose of my creation, I would never use it to destroy the innocent,” They yanked Hero forward, “because no one on this wretched excuse of a planet is innocent.”

A pause in breath as Villain took a step back. They marveled in the shadows of their lair, this very room being their favorite place. It was a special delight, seeing the Hero helpless beneath their gaze, and they didn’t intend to spoil it.

Cold in their palm, Villain found their fingers tracing the lip of the vial. The cork top was rough against the pad of their thumb. It's only defense, power unleashed with the simple flick of a lid. “Tell you what,” they let the words roll smooth off their tongue, “I won’t use this on any of your precious people.”

A glimmer of hope shone in the Hero’s eye. This was all too easy. Villain let Hero sit in their pride for a moment, the thought that they had broken through, only to crush it beneath their palm. “You’ll make a much better subject after all.”

Hero blanched, “What?”

“Data can only do so much my dear, and you said it yourself,” They drank in the sight of the solution. Swirling purple, absolutely magnificent, “It would truly be a crime to hurt someone blameless. I must first test it on someone, and to have the big strong Hero beneath my hand- well that’s almost too much of a treat.”

Villain stepped forward and laughed as the Hero fought against their restraints. Bolted to the ground, they couldn’t so much as move an inch.

“No,” the word fell from Hero’s lips as nothing more but a hushed plea. Their eyes darted frantically between the vial and Villain’s gaze. Both were entrancing, endless seas of color that threatened to drown anyone who came too close.

They thrust their hands at the Villain when they came into range. It was a weak attempt, nothing more than flailing limbs and curses. With one hand Villain caught their chin, dragging Hero forward and with the other they held the concoction.

“Won’t it be so lovely to have you? Listening to my every word, I long to own that pretty smile of yours.” They ignored the scrape of Hero’s nails against their skin, even as it drew blood. My, they were so desperate.

“Let go of me!” They screamed, “Don’t!”

Villain raised an impatient brow, “Hold still now darling,” fingers playing around the edge of the glass, Villain popped off the cork. Hero’s response was absolutely beautiful.

“No- no, get that away from me!” They pulled at Villain’s hair, punching and scratching. Villain’s grip never so much as loosened. They held a power greater than anything the Hero could throw at them, and hearing their cries only strengthened it.

“Wait- please!” A scream tore from the Hero’s mouth, echoing off the walls in a chorus of absolute terror. Villain only laughed, grabbing Hero’s face and tipping the vial over their lips.

The liquid flowed from its glass prison, swirling through the air with a glow of brilliant violet. It burned upon the Hero’s tongue, a lick of fire as it was forced down their throat. Their hands flew to their neck and they grasped at the skin as if they could drain it from their veins. Villain only laughed.

What started as a trail of blazing liquid quickly morphed into something searing. Hero could feel it in their skin, piercing their veins and poisoning their mind. They knew how the concoction worked. It started in their bloodstream, shutting down their nerves and filling their mind with a new command. Bones aching, everything would be restructured, everything wiped. The liquid was not only for control, it was strengthening, sending a power surging through the Hero that they alone would never have the freedom to harness.

They cried out, doubling over. It burned, god, everything hurt. Hero was sent to the floor, thrashing along the tiles like a wounded animal. The cuffs bit into their skin, but they didn’t notice. Couldn’t, when each of their thoughts was being stripped away.

First, it was foggy, like grasping at straws. Hero hung onto their memories, nails pricking their skin from clenching their fists so tight. Everything fleeting. They forgot their own name. Forgot their power. It was fading much too fast.

“No!” They writhed on the ground, hands curling round their hair. Tears pricked Hero’s eyes, it was gone so fast, like watching the last of their thoughts slip under the drain. In the metal cabinet Hero caught their reflection. It was almost unrecognizable. They saw their own eyes shift from caramel to darkened violet as they could do nothing but watch. It consumed them, sparkling with the chemicals that left their head pounding.

Hero’s joints grew stiff, no longer under their control. Vision blurred and heart slowed to its own rhythm. Their mind was wiped like a slate, nothing left of them. Only violet. Burning, searing, violet. The substance was their livelihood, coursing through Hero’s veins as they finally fell still.

“Now that wasn’t so hard, was it?” The voice was an echo. It bounced off the walls of Hero’s mind and they couldn’t help but gaze up towards it. Warm hands braced their arms, helping them to stand. They faced deep green eyes. Something lured them to follow such a gaze.

A finger trailed along their jaw, and the touch was familiar, welcomed. “This suits you,” The one before them said with a smile. Their hands came up to smooth the wrinkles in their uniform. “No more writhing in the dust like an animal. You’re perfect this way, all mine- isn’t that right my dear Hero?”

Hero. Was that what they were? A silent command shot through their nerves, compelling them to take the figure’s hand. Villain’s hand, a small voice told them. They felt Villain’s hand upon their cheek, and again those eyes-

“Say it for me love, just so I can hear it myself.”

The words fell from Hero with a mechanical grace. As if programmed, they didn’t even have to think. Fate brought the sentence to their tongue, twirling around until it felt just right. “I…I’m yours.”

“That’s right.” Villain hummed. They pressed a chaste kiss to Hero’s forehead, “I can’t wait to see what we can do together.”

Somewhere deep inside, Hero was screaming.

[rhiangalaxy]

@artsarasp 's System Possession AU has got me in a chokehold Orz

[ID: A Scum Villain Comic. Image one depicts System Possessed!Shen Qingqiu looking cheerful with his hands pressed together and saying "We got the torture labyrinth tomorrow". Shang Qinghua is looking at SQQ with a nervous/horrified expression, holding an unraveled scroll and responding "What?". Image two depicts chibi versions of the two, with SQQ reiterating "We gotta get tortured for eternity tomorrow", with a :3 face and gesturing towards a system box that has the words "New Mission" with a cheering kamoji and blue sparkles. SQH responds "Ohhh, Okay" with a tired nervous expression. End ID]

[bigfatbreak]

What does Tom think of Emilie after meeting her?

the only Agreste he's not massively disappointed with is Adrien himself. It's a good thing that's the only one he plans on sparing.

[thirstywaffles]

When your crush finally loves you back

[ID: Scum Villain fanart of Luo Binghe. He's standing with his arms spread slightly at his sides, palms up. He's smirking and his eyes glint red. There's a large caption across his body that says "i am no longer mentally ill". /end ID]