#villain captive

[macknus]

Febuwhump: Day Six

Prompt: Forced to Stay Awake

Febuwhump Masterpost

Villain was tied to a chair in Superhero’s office. His hands were tied down tight to the arms of the chair, rope wound so tightly around them that every time a finger twitched it sent lightning streaks of pins and needles through his entire hand and forced him to clench his teeth.

Villain sat behind Superhero’s desk, the back of the comfortable, cushioned chair against the wall so Villain was forced to watch Superhero work. And not do interesting work that he could report back to Supervillain with. No, Superhero was doing paperwork. And it was putting Villain to sleep.

Or it would have. If Superhero would let him fucking sleep.

He must’ve been awake for over two days straight by now. Superhero knew that when he captured Villain he wouldn’t be able to stop Villain dream walking to tell Supervillain and Henchman that he was kidnapped and held hostage by Superhero.

So Superhero, ingeniously decided — his words not Villain’s — that he wouldn’t let Villain sleep to be able to dream.

Villain balked at Superhero when he told him. “You— you can’t be serious.”

“Deadly,” Superhero said with a hyena’s grin. “But don’t worry. Supervillain and your other friends won’t be a threat soon enough.”

He could only imagine what he looked like. His eyelids, despite staying open, drooped after the first day and burned with every blink. Superhero has been gracious enough to allow Villain periods where he can close his eyes, but they were only allowed to for ten minutes at a time. Not enough for Villain to go into R.E.M.

Not enough time for him to access his power.

The alarm blared a shrill sound that signified it was time for Villain to open his eyes and Villain moaned. He felt ill. Physically and mentally. His thoughts drifted like tendrils of smoke, stroking his skull before slipping away.

“Open your eyes, Villain,” Superhero sang.

Villain groaned again. “Please… just… a few more—” he heard a thunk of a pen on a desk, the scrape of Superhero’s chair push back and footsteps. Villain’s eyes flew open and he groaned again. Superhero smirked down at him, grabbing Villain by the hair and yanking his head up.

Villain cried out, yanking his head back but Superhero just pulled harder until Villain’s neck was fully extended and he couldn’t move. Villain glared at him, lips curling back into a snarl.

“You look dreadful, Vil,” Superhero commented dryly. “You look like you need a good night’s sleep.”

Villain would have kicked him if his ankles weren’t tied to the legs of the chair. He only got away with kicking Superhero once before he tied his legs down too.

“When I say open your eyes, you open your eyes,” Superhero said softly. “Unless you want the other serum that keeps you awake. You remember that, don’t you?”

Villain shivered despite himself. Oh. He remembered that alright. That’s what had downed Villain in the first place. It was like molten lava scorching his veins, shooting through his body as quick as electricity, burning everything and leaving icy sharpness in its wake. Villain screamed and screamed and screamed.

Hands on him felt at once too hot and far, far too cold. He shivered as if he was verging on hypothermia and writhed as he was restrained and brought to Superhero’s office.

They threw him down in front of Superhero’s desk and he hit the ground hard. Superhero said something, but Villain couldn’t hear. The ropes felt like barbed wire sunk into his skin, cutting his wrists like thorns and stopping him from struggling.

“Or do you need a reminder?” Superhero cooed.

Villain clenched his jaw. “I remember.”

“Good.” Superhero removed his hold of Villain’s hair and Villain’s head whipped to the side. The pain followed after, and the sound of the slap clapped through his ears. Villain felt a coppery tang of blood in his mouth as he looked up at Superhero with a piercing glare.

Superhero’s smirk returned. “See? Now your lips have a little colour at least.”

“I’m going to kill you.”

Superhero laughed as he returned to his desk. “Oh, Villain. By the time I have Supervillain you won’t be able to get near me. You’ll be enjoying a cozy little cell in the Supe-Prison. You can have a nice little reunion with your friends that you were too weak to warn, hmm?”

“I will haunt you,” Villain promised darkly.

Superhero waved him away. “Oh Vil, I have enough fan-mail as it is. Don’t trouble yourself.”

They fell into silence again. Superhero returned to his work, and Villain sat there, useless, and watched. He glanced out the window to the city sprawled below and begged, pleaded for Supervillain to know… to realise that whatever trap he was walking into was a mistake…

*~*~*~*~*

Tag-list: @whump-in-the-closet

[whump-in-the-closet]

whumpee characterizations ? and what it takes to break them

thief whumpee: silver-tongued/ can't keep still/ uses humor as a coping mechanism-> gagged/ stress positions/ a casual whumper whose indifference immobilizes whumpee

royal whumpee: stoic/ proud/ seeks revenge after their imprisonment-> forced to kneel/ public humiliation, dragged around like a trophy, collared, branded etc/ enough scars to look like a constellation on their skin

healer whumpee: kind/ keeps up an image for the sake of others/ skilled in their trade-> pushed to the edge/ others have to take care of them/ hands or fingers so badly damaged they'll never be able to help anyone else again

innocent whumpee: naive/ trusting/ hopeful-> "no one is coming for you"/ left to die/ a whumper who twists whumpee's anger against their friends

bitter whumpee: apathetic/ shrugs off what they've been through/ exhausted-> "I'm fine." followed by collapsing/ vivid flashbacks where they wake up screaming/ refuses to fall asleep after their ordeal

leader whumpee: independent to the point of isolation/ tries to protect everyone/ mentally well-adjusted (mostly)-> set up to fail/ forced to hurt their teammates/ they come back changed, and everyone avoids them

villain whumpee: defiant/ insults whumper every chance they get/ so many failed escape attempts-> non-con drugging, left a shadow of their past selves/ conditioned to obey/ kneeling next to whumper at a press conferences

[gilly-moon]

𝕵𝖔𝖒𝖊𝖎

[queer-book-character-tournament]

Character, book, and author names under the cut

Paul Fleischer/Julian Fromme- These Violent Delights by Micah Nemerever

Will Kempen/James St.Clair- Dark Rise by C.S. Pacat

Shen Qingqiu/Luo Binghe- The Scum Villain's Self-Saving System by Mo Xiang Tong Xiu

Damianos (“Damen”) of Akielos/Laurent of Vere - Captive Prince by C.S. Pacat

[serickswrites]

Do You Trust Me?

Warnings: threat of death, violence, captivity, restraints, escape

Hero tried to pry the power suppression cuffs off their wrists. They had fallen for Supervillain's trap so easily. They cursed as the cuffs remained tight on their wrists.

A scraping sound outside their cell had Hero whirling round, fearful that Supervillain had come to make good on their promise to beat them to death. They raised their fists as they growled, "Come to finish me off?"

Villain's face appeared in the doorway. "No," they whispered back, "I've come to get you out of here."

Hero frowned. Surely this had to be a trapped. "Why, so you can just toy with me until your master is ready to kill me?"

Villain opened the door. "No, do you think so poorly of me?"

"Yes."

Villain held out their hand. "I'm here to rescue you, Hero. I am with Supervillain because..." their voice trailed off. "That's not relevant. Point is, I'm here to set you free. You weren't meant to be caught."

Hero stared at Villain's hand. This had to be a trap. "Do you trust me?" Villain said as they inched closer.

"No," Hero said uncertainly.

Villain sighed. "Well, I'm sorry about this then." They grabbed Hero's hand and teleported the two of them out of the cell.

Tags: @mousepaw @jumpywhumpywriter @knightinbatteredarmor @hufflepuffwritingstuff2 @anightmarishwhump

@steh-lar-uh-nuhs @celestialsoyeon @st0rmm @ay5ksal @pedro-pedro-pedro-pedro-pe

@pepeniascat

[rhiangalaxy]

LQG: Shit I didn't mean to say that out loud.

[ID: A Scum Villain Comic. First image depicts Shen Yuan in an outfit reminiscent of BOTW!Zelda's goddess outfit except with sleeves that fall down the shoulder. He grips one of his arms and looks down to the side as if uncomfortable, saying "I don't know... I feel like I look stupid." The next image depicts Liu Qingge in BOTW!Link's champion outfit. He looks on with a loving expression/smile and says "You look...Wonderful." The last image has both characters in chibi style. SY now looks up to LQG with an amazed expression, his face and body now flushed. LQG on the other hand, looks away with a very flushed face and sweating, his fists clenched with an spiky thought bubble that simply says "FUCK" End ID]

[son1c]

new yoke sonic :^)

the palm tree is great and all, but what about the flickies?? in this backwards world, those little animals are his only friends, so he’s willing to do whatever it takes to protect them. when the chaos council took over, they were in great danger, and bullet made the tough choice to trade his freedom for their safety, acting as an enforcer on their behalf.

[hufflepuffwritingstuff2]

Snitches Get Stitches- part 3

Part 2

Once Hero was stable again, Supervillain took a seat by their bedside.

“What happened, Hero?” they asked.

Hero gulped, casting a quick glance at Villain, who gave a nearly imperceptible nod.

“Um, I had a nightmare,” Hero lied.

“A nightmare?” Supervillain repeated.

“Y-yes, about who hurt me…”

Supervillain, Henchman, Medic, and Villain exchanged glances.

“Have you thought about telling me now?” Supervillain asked.

Hero nodded.

“I-it was a vigilante,” they said, trying to keep their voice even, “I don’t know their name.”

“What did they look like?” Henchman asked.

Hero froze. They hadn’t prepared for this part. Villain stared them down.

“Um, they had blond hair and a scar on their left eye,” they said slowly.

More glances between the teammates.

“Okay,” Supervillain said.

They nodded to the door, and the rest of the team filed out. Hero watched them go nervously. They looked up at Supervillain.

“Rest,” they said, taking the handcuff off of Hero’s wrist, “don’t try to leave yet.”

Supervillain closed the med bay door behind them and walked off with the rest of the team.

“So, they’re lying right?” Medic asked.

“Obviously,” Supervillain said.

“What’s the plan then?”

“To the boardroom,” Supervillain answered, “we have a lot to talk about.”

…

Everyone filed into the room where all of their schemes and plans were made.

“So far we know two things,” Supervillain said, “Hero was stabbed in the side, and they came to us for help.”

“But they aren’t letting us help them very much,” Henchman huffed.

“Who says they aren’t?” Villain asked, “how do we know they were lying at all? Have we even considered that this vigilante might be real?”

Medic gave Villain an incredulous look.

“Seriously? Hero is the worst liar ever- didn’t you see their face?”

“They’re clearly traumatized from the attack, that’s all,” Villain said.

Supervillain looked up at Villain. The pieces clicked together all too neatly in their head.

“Why did you do it?” Supervillain demanded.

Henchman and Medic gave Supervillain puzzled looks.

“Sorry?” Villain laughed.

“Why did you attack Hero?”

Villain’s gaze hardened.

“Because you’ve all gone soft for them. Too soft. They’re pathetic, they’re our enemy, and you’ve all been treating them as though they’re just a rival on the academic team!”

When no one spoke, Villain went on.

“You’re always babying them, pulling your punches, letting them have free reign over the city. And then- then! When I finally go in to get rid of them, they survive, and you pansies actually take them in instead of finishing them off!”

Villain’s quiet tone had risen to a sadistic, rageful volume. They started to laugh.

“I made it so easy for you! So easy! Yet they’re in our med bay instead of a coffin! I ought to-”

A punch to the jaw had Villain crumpling to the floor, out cold. Supervillain wiped the blood from their fist.

“Henchman, take Villain down to the containment cell,” Supervillain said, their voice an icy calm, “Medic, go to Hero. Don’t leave them alone for a second.”

Henchman and Medic nodded. Henchman hoisted Villain over their shoulder roughly, while Medic headed back to the med bay. Supervillain willed themselves to calm down. How could they have been so stupid? So blind? Their own teammate…

Former teammate, Supervillain amended.

Hero wasn’t going to have to deal with them again, Supervillain would make sure of it. They headed down to the containment cell after Henchman.

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Tags: @mythixmagic @infinityshadows @fishtale88 @thelazywitchphotographer @the-beasts-have-arrived @princessofonwardsworld @surplus-of-sarcasm@memepsychowhowantsuperpower-blog @electrons2006 @just-a-space-rabbit @telltaletoad @bacillusinfection @noseyowes @whump-till-ya-jump

@starfields08000 @bluesoulpeace @altvaggie @nvrmorrrrr @leblanced27 @crotchgoblin69 @qualityrabbitsoup

[secret-whump-blog]

Underrated whump trope: when the team is trying to capture a scared and desperate villain whumpee “for their own good.”

[winters-dream]

Human!hero x Vampire!villain

The cell was cold, chilling Hero to the bone as they pushed the heavy door open. Its hinges groaned loudly as it swung open, revealing a dark room still of any life. Dead silence filled the small cell, Hero’s own breathing rang loudly in their ears. A flicker of doubt ran through their head, wondering if they had broken into the wrong cell until they made out an odd shape tucked into the corner’s shadows. A shape that looked suspiciously like Villain.

They took a few tentative steps forward, their eyes slowly adjusting to the dark as they took in the scene in front of them. Villain sat propped up against the wall, scars shining brightly against their paled skin, obviously caused by silver since they have yet to heal. Their  own blood stained their skin, streaks of it painting the floor in various directions. An alarming amount of blood, enough for Villain to die if they were human. 

Their chest heaved up and down feverishly despite not needing to breathe. Their eyes stayed shut as the hero approached them. Hero didn’t know if that was a good sign. 

“Back again?” croaked the villain. Their voice was light despite the obvious pain laced within it. Their whole demeanor screamed calmed and laid back despite the absolute horror scene that has been made of them. “Didn’t break me enough to your liking the last time?”

Hero stood frozen. They didn’t know what to say or how to approach the villain. Their carefree facade did little to convince Hero they were okay. They could see the tension in their jawline, the  caution of every breath they took, the grimace that wanted to creep onto their face. They could have fooled anyone else, but Hero knew them too well.

“The silent treatment, huh?” said the villain. “That’s okay, the sound of your voice makes my ears bleed. I can go without the headache.”

“Villain,” Hero called.

Villain’s eyes shot open at the sound of their voice, a mixture of shock and relief danced over their features. 

“Hero,” they breathed. “What are you doing here?”

Hero stepped forward, crouching down in front of the villain, their hands finding the shackles that kept Villain chained to the ground. They were thick and heavy, each link the size of Hero’s wrists. They dug dangerously into the villain’s own wrists, threatening to cut into the skin.

“I’m breaking you out of here,” said Hero. They gave the chains an experimental tug, letting go with a wince at the pained hiss that left Villain’s mouth.

“My knight in shining armor?” asked Villain. “That’s sweet.” 

They noticed the light blush that dusted over the Hero’s cheeks, visible to them even in the dark. A groan slipped past their lips as the hero continued to feel around the chains. “But it’ll be safer for you if you leave. You know better than I do how unpredictable your precious Superhero is.”

Hero tightened their grip on the chains, opting for trying to pull them out of the floor. “That’s all the more reason why I need to get you out of here before you die.”

“Awe, you care,” cooed Villain, a small smirk made its way to their face. They let out a series of fleeting gasps as Hero pulled on the chains once again. 

They gripped onto Hero’s arm, to prevent them from pulling again. Their soft skin, warm to the touch and thrumming with life. Their pulse beating rapidly below Villain’s thumb, their blood running through their veins. Their sweet scent filtering through their nose. Villain bit their lip, aching for a bite. 

"When's the last time you fed? How long?" asked Hero. And Villain didn't know the answer, couldn't even tell Hero how long Superhero has had them here. The days, weeks, months, all blurred together in an endless cycle with no clear beginning or end. 

Hero huffed a sigh, displeased with the lack of response. They shuffled closer to Villain, hands tugging at the collar of their own shirt which earned a light chuckle from Villain. 

“What are you doing?” they asked.

“What does it look like I’m doing? Come here and drink my blood.”

Hero shuffled closer, a leg tossed over one of the villain’s. The scene almost looked strangely intimate, if it weren’t for the blood that surrounded them and the deathly look on the Villain’s face. Hero wasn’t sure how long Villain had left to live, but they were certain that they were the criminal’s only hope right now.

“Hero, I’m starving,” said Villain. “If you let me drink your blood, I’ll likely kill you.”

Despite their words, they pulled Hero closer, their chains rattling loudly against the floor. They inhaled deeply, the hero’s intoxicating scent flooding their senses. It was heavenly, Villain’s favorite scent.

Hero couldn’t help the small scoff that climbed up their throat. “Since when did you care whether I live or die? Given your reputation of hunting heroes, I expected you to kill me years ago.”

Villain tilted their head to the side, their signature smirk returning to their face. “You’re an unexpected exception. But don’t worry, your last breath won’t be today. I’ll be gentle when I drink from you.”

Their hands traveled down Hero’s back, slowly making their way to their butt, but Hero was quick to divert. They pulled their hands away and pushed them against the ground with a shake of their head.

“I’m only offering you my blood.”

Villain never lost their smirk as they shook their head as well. “Of course.”

They leaned forward, wasting no time to find the hero’s pulse and sink their fangs into their neck. They heard the hero’s pained gasp, but made no move to let up. Hero’s blood was warm, fresh, heavenly on Villain’s tongue. It sated a hunger so deep within the villain, they never knew a sweeter relief. It took every little ounce of inner strength the villain had left within them to not drain Hero dry right now. They took gulp after gulp, finally taking one last drag of the hero’s blood before letting go with guttural sigh. 

They slumped back against the wall of their cell, a smile spread over their lips as they felt the blood do its work and heal what was wrong with them. Their energy renewed, their wounds closing up, their mind clearing and senses more acute. They were forever grateful to the hero and their delicious blood they graciously offered them. 

Their chains rattled, a weak tug at their wrists. They opened their eyes to find the hero weakly pulling at the chains keeping Villain glued to the floor. Their efforts made Villain laugh as they replaced the crime fighter's hands with their own, breaking the shackles off their wrists with ease. They let out a relieved hiss, rubbing their wrists as feeling slowly returned to their hands. They glanced at Hero once more, giving the side of their face a light pat and stood up.

“You did well, Hero.”

Hero could only nod as the villain pulled them along into a stand, their footing uneasy as they swayed. “Let’s get out of here.”

“And just where do you think that is?”

Hero whipped their head around, Superhero standing in the open doorway with their arms crossed over their chest. Hero stood still, like a deer caught the headlights. They’ve been caught. Freeing the enemy. Superhero met them with a disappointed look. 

“Hero, what are you doing?” 

The sound of Superhero’s voice snapped Hero into action as they quickly moved to stand in front of the villain to shield them. A huge wave of dizziness ran over them, their vision coming in and out of focus as they moved. But they stayed their ground, refusing to leave Villain’s side. They noticed the superhero’s eyes dancing over their body, focusing on their labored breathing, their tired eyes, the obvious puncture wounds on the side of their neck, the blood drying around the edges.

“Hero, are you out of your mind?” demanded Superhero. “Feeding that demon? Giving it your blood?”

“They were starving,” defended the hero. “You locked them up and waited for them to die from starvation. That violates our code of conduct, I should report you—”

“Report me? I’m doing the world a favor, keeping that thing locked up.” Superhero placed their hands on their hips, fingers brushing over the stake they had tucked into their belt. They gave Villain a look filled with a mixture of disgust and fear before scolding the hero once more. 

“It’s a demon, a bloodsucking parasite who will stop at nothing to drink away the entire world’s population,” they said. “Demons like this one are always hungry. And you willingly gave it your blood. It knows what you taste like now and will cling to you like a leech. It won’t stop until it’s taken every last drop of blood from your body.”

“If you want to survive at all, you need to kill it now.” Superhero tossed their stake at Hero, Hero catching it clumsily as the large amount of blood Villain took from them delayed their reaction time. They simply looked at the silver weapon before meeting Superhero’s eyes. 

“I’m not killing Villain,” they said. “I’m not like you, I don’t kill people.”

Superhero scoffed, loudly and dramatically. “Listen to you, that demon has you wrapped around its finger. Its charming words and pretty face has you throwing away the very core of your beliefs. It’s not human, it’s not people. Killing it is what’s good for the world.”

Hero’s chest was heavy with disgust at their superior’s constant insistence of calling Villain an ‘it’. They were talking circles around each other. It almost felt like Superhero was a parent scolding a stubborn child, Hero refused to let Superhero win this argument.

“I’m not killing them.”

“You make a poor excuse of a vampire hunter then,” said Superhero. “If you’re so quick to defend the very reason we even need heroes in the first place. Need I remind you, this monster has killed countless humans. Countless heroes. You shouldn't feel sympathy for them, and definitely shouldn't spare their life.” 

Hero simply shook their head, reiterating that they don’t kill people and call it heroism. Superhero’s face slowly morphed from one of disappointment to fear the more they stared each other down. 

“Hero, you’re making a mistake,” they said. Their voice wavered as they spoke, their eyes locked onto the villain with a fearful gaze. “Villain is not someone you should be protecting.”

Superhero took a step forward, their arm outstretched for the hero. But Villain was faster. At a speed higher than Hero could follow with their eyes, Villain had moved to stand between the two heroes with Hero’s stake in their hand. A blink of an eye was all it took and Superhero was on the ground, Hero’s stake plunged deep into their neck.

Hero, too stunned to speak, stared at Villain as they turned back to face them, a wicked grin plastered on the criminal’s face. They pulled Hero close to them with ease, securing their arms tightly around their waist. 

“I really must thank you, Hero,” said the villain. “Superhero was no easy feat. They’ve been on my list for years now.”

It began to click together. “This was all just a plan to kill Superhero?” asked Hero.

“Of course,” Villain’s hand came up to lightly caress Hero’s face, a shock going down their spine from the tender touch. “And you played your part out perfectly.”

“Played my part?” Hero asked. Villain nodded, their face so close to Hero’s, their breath fanned over their face. “You knew I would come save you.”

“Was counting on it. We make a pretty good team, you and I.” Something in Villain’s eyes changed, an idea coming to them. A wonderful idea that left Villain feeling almost giddy at the prospect.

“Why don’t we do just that? Become a team. We can reign terror on the world together, kill heroes together. We’ll be the Bonnie and Clyde of the twenty-first century. Only more dangerous. And more powerful.”

Hero glanced between the villain’s hopeful gaze to the dead superhero on the ground. The superhero they inadvertently helped Villain kill. Bile rose at the back of their throat at Villain’s plan, what they were asking. They wanted Hero to turn their back on the very core of their being. Do evil instead of fight it. 

They glanced at the villain once more, mouth opened to speak. But before they could usher out a single syllable, they lost consciousness, the exhaustion from blood loss finally catching up to them.

Villain grinned.

[gingerly-writing]

Prompt #3477

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

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

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

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

[kittykatninja321]

fanon often depicts Jason with the typical “you’re not my dad” type angst because that’s part of the stereotypical prodigal son and father dynamic people are used to, but when you look at canon Bruce has probably denied being Jason’s father more than Jason has denied being his son. Also, in pre-52 Jason is the one who reaches out to Bruce (even if his way of reaching out is objectively kinda insane) and in nu52 and beyond when Jason is in his redemption era he’s the one who’s doing all the compromising in their relationship

[defectivehero]

Ur reading is always so much fun! I'm excited to see what you have for the bingo 👀

I have a request! Would you consider "They'll come for me" or "Dragging themselves along the ground" with a villain whumpee?

Good luck with the rest of ur writing!! I'm excited to read it all eheh

ahhh thank you so much! I'm excited to write it too, tbh! and yes yes yes! i can do that. mwahahhahaha Ψ(`_´ # )↝

@badthingshappenbingo prompt: They Will Come for Me

"They will come for me," the villain maintains. The truth of the matter settles unpleasantly at the pit of their stomach. They know damn well no one is going to rescue them. This isn't a fairy tale—there won't be a royal figure to dash in and save them. This is the bleakness of reality: cold iron bars, a gnawing hunger digging at their stomach, dried blood crusted along their skin. The villain pushes these sensations aside, attributing their spiraling thoughts to their increasingly unpleasant confinement.

"You don't even seem to believe that," the hero points out helpfully. There's something almost close to worry on her face and it makes the villain sick.

"They're coming back," the villain repeats themself.

"Do you want to know what I think?" The hero hums. It's a rhetorical question; the villain isn't safe enough to weaponize satire and find a witty way to snap back at their enemy. Instead, they just stare at her blearily. The hero paints a sympathetic smile over her lips, a hand rising to grip the bars between them as she crouches down to meet their eyes. "I think you're going to rot down here. Because they left you, and they're not coming back."

The villain remains silent. They convince themself they're trying to save their strength—their silence is not born out of resignation. They pull their knees closer to their chest and curl in on themself, still warily watching the hero as she paces outside their cell.

"I'll cut you a deal," the hero offers after a moment. She continues walking back and forth across the villain's vision.

"No." The villain interjects.

"You didn't let me finish." She says.

"I don't trust you to be truthful." The villain remarks.

"I am being truthful," the hero sighs. She stares at them for a moment, before evidently abandoning the notion of compromise. "But, fine." She shrugs. As she begins to depart, the villain realizes they've just thrown away what could've been their only way to escape. They hear the plea fall from their lips before they can stop it.

"Wait." They implore her.

The hero freezes in the doorway. The villain doesn't need to see her expression to know she's wearing a sharp-toothed smirk. Their enemy swivels back around; indeed, she's grinning like the Cheshire Cat. Damn it. They've played right into her hand.

"Yes?" She asks.

The hero's going to make them say it. The villain grits their teeth and promptly abandons any semblance of dignity and pride. "What's the deal?" They question.

The hero stares at them with a scrutinizing gaze. She seems to be puzzling out the details in her mind. After a moment, she breaks through the silence. "If your little friends come for you within... let's say... a week," the hero offers, "I'll let you go without a fight."

The villain stares at them in disbelief. That doesn't sound believable in the slightest. Surely there's something they're missing here. And while they don't want to think about their friends failing, they have to ask. "What happens if they don't come?" They ask uncertainly.

"If they don't rescue you, you'll remain here." The hero answers smoothly.

"...For how long?" The villain hears themself ask.

The hero studies them. "For as long as I deem it necessary." Forever, then, the villain thinks to themself darkly.

"What's the catch?" The villain demands, after few moments have passed and they've failed to find an immediate risk to this 'deal.'

"There's no catch," the hero says, contrary to their suspicions. "Trust in your allies, and everything will work out. Right?" She looks at them expectantly.

"Right." The villain responds, their mouth dry. It's such a simple thing, yet it feels like an impractical feat. All they need to do is wait for the others to rescue them. So... why do they feel so uneasy? They shake their head and withdraw into the caverns of their mind, suppressing any doubts or reasonable suspicions.

One day passes. Then two. Three, four, five. There is no sign of a savior for the villain to latch onto. The villain's hope begins to morph into despair; they start to dread the sound of the door swinging open at the hero's grip. At first, they had relentlessly monitored the rise and fall of the sun through the sunlight cast across the floor. But after the telltale mark of five days passes, they begin to abandon the notion. They know it's foolish to give up hope with two days remaining, but there's an inexplicable conviction brewing in their chest: one that renders any of their previous expectations to static.

The next time the hero enters the room, the villain doesn't bother with their typical fanfare. "How long has it been?" They cut right to the chase.

The flat line set across the hero's lips is all the villain needs to get their answer. Yet the words their enemy utters are even worse. "It's been a month."

"A month," the villain repeats hollowly. Their ears are ringing. How far will the hero go to ascertain her victory? Why would she choose such a blatant, easily disproven lie?

The hero pays them a sympathetic smile. "We had this same conversation yesterday." She admits. She's staring at them with concern, as if they're a fragile ornament just moments away from breaking.

The villain doesn't believe her. They say as much, in many rather unsavory words. The hero doesn't seem affected by their anger or irritation; rather, she is frustratingly calm. She leaves them silently moments later.

The villain waits until she's gone to take a slow rattling breath, before burying their head in their hands. Their heart is roaring in their ears. Surely the hero is lying. She's messing with their perception of time to instill fear in them. Surely the villain will be freed soon.

Their head is spinning. The blood on the floor is so dark it appears black. The truth of the situation is staring them in the face, but they can't accept it. They can't accept the scars set into their skin; the noticeably more brisk air surrounding the space; the length of their fingernails, which they always file extremely short.

"They're coming back for me." The villain whispers to themself. "They're coming back."

Maybe if they repeat it enough, they'll start to believe it.

©2024, @defectivehero | @defectivevillain, All Rights Reserved. Reblogs are greatly appreciated—just don't steal or share outside of Tumblr, please.

Bad Things Happen Bingo Masterlist

I know this isn't necessarily the straightforward way to write this trope... but ah well. I just like the idea of "they will come back for me," being stated as a way for the villain to reassure themself, rather than a genuine threat or warning to the hero.

anyway, thanks for reading! <3

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[serickswrites]

Anymore

Warnings: captivity, torture, restraints, blood, wounds, hopelessness

"I can't do this anymore," Sidekick sobbed as they tried and failed to break free from the power suppression cuffs once more. "I can't watch Hero torture you to death!"

Villain stared at Sidekick, their hollow eyes filled with sorrow as they stared at Sidekick through a mask of blood. "They're not going to kill me, Sidekick."

"How can you say that? Of course they are! In case you haven't noticed, we're both in chains at their mercy. They've beaten us. They've won! And they're going to make you pay the price with your life."

Villain closed their eyes and sighed wearily. "They haven't won, Sidekick. I'm not going to argue with you. But they haven't won."

"You have a plan to get us out of here?"

Villain shook their head. "No."

"Then how can you be so certain they haven't won? Villain! This isn't funny!" Sidekick was consumed by their hopelessness. They were going to watch Hero torture Villain to death. They had already watched Hero wound Villain over and over again. They couldn't endure it any longer.

Villain gave a wan smile. "Because, I have a plan to get you out of here."

Sidekick swallowed. "I'm not leaving you behind."

"You won't have to...for long. Just long enough to get Right Hand and the rest of the team gathered and lead the assault on Base."

Sidekick shook their head. "I can't lead a team of anyone. I won't leave you behind, Villain."

"You can. And you will. How else are you going to rescue me?" Villain closed their eyes again. "Look, just promise me when the opportune moment arises, you'll take it. Without question. Without looking back. When I get you the opening to get out of here, Sidekick, you have to run. Run fast and run hard."

Sidekick's eyes pricked with tears once more. Villain was going to spare them from watching Villain die. From being there when Hero finally went to far. From being Hero's next play thing. "I will. But I will get you out of here. You just have to hold on until I get back, Villain."

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@pepeniascat

[whumpsoda]

May I suggest a whumper who puts spells on his whumpee’s or hypnotizes them or smth to believe that they’re all a happy traditional family. Whumpee’s all think this is completely normal—even the family dog which used to be whumper’s most resistant captive.

Sorry this took so long… I just had to do this prompt, it’s too good! I hope I did it justice :3

cw: brainwashing, pet whump, multiple whumpees, lady whumpee, captivity

———————————————————————

Villain loved his family. 

Some would never believe him, most prominent due to the means of which he sourced said family, but really, he did love them. Cared for them, even.

“Movie! Movie! Movie!” Youngest squealed, just like the child he believed himself to be, swinging his feet excitedly on the couch. Adorned in his favorite pajamas, bright pink and far too small, he waited for the rest of his family to join him in the living room. One hand was wrapped around a gigantic bowl of delicious smelling and steaming popcorn, the other ruffling through the grease coated hair of his pet.

Hero, with his chin placed atop his former partner’s lap, held a dopey smile and glassy eyes as his scalp was softly scritched at. He shivered with delight, nearly drooling over the blissful touch and smell of food he wasn’t allowed to eat. Villain couldn’t help but wish he had a camera ready to capture such a mind bogglingly satisfying image.

“Watch out!” Medic- or, the former medic, now Villain’s partner- exclaimed, a sweet grin strung across her lips. “Puppy over there is waiting for you to drop something!”

Youngest only chuckled, cheerfully ruffling Hero’s hair. Gleefully, Hero giggled, leaning into the pleasant touch. “Come on, come on! I wanna start the TV!”

“Okay, okay!” Villain yelled back, smiling from ear to ear, watching as Youngest and Hero’s faces both lit up upon seeing their former enemy enter the room. Hero eagerly crawled over to meet him, nuzzling and stroking his face over the fabric of the other man’s pant leg.

Almost, Villain wanted to laugh. His plans and wishes had come perfectly true. His toughest foe and captive, reduced to that of a mere dog. Yearning only for cuddles and treats, too stupid to understand the world around him. No more fight, no more irritating quips, no more screaming, no more Hero. 

The thought made Villain positively giddy. 

Villain searched into his back pocket, holding out and dangling a bone shaped dog treat between two fingers. Hero brightened, sitting up sloppily. “Paw.” Villain instructed, shaking Hero by the hand and dropping the reward between the man’s teeth, right onto his panting tongue. “Good boy!”

“Dad, come on! Come on! Mom!” Youngest called, kicking his feet still, but now in impatient anticipation. 

“I told you, I’m coming!” Medic entered, hair put up into a lazy bun with a plush robe tied around her waist. “I was just grabbing a drink, baby.” She placed a quick peck to the lanky man’s forehead, before adjusting the vibrantly pink clips scattered about his hair.

Youngest’s face flushed, giggling. “Dad, c’mere!”

“Come on, puppy.” Gifting Hero a few pats to the head, Villain gestured him along to the couch before plopping down beside his partner. He hooked his arm around Medic, pushing her head to sit upon his shoulder.

Sometimes, he secretly wished she’d give him little kisses just as she did Youngest. He’d never felt such tender contact before, and most likely never would.

Following example, Hero hopped onto a cushion beside youngest, getting prepared to curl up beside the man in his eyes he deemed as a young child before Medic pointed to him with disapproval. “No.” She scolded. “No dogs on the furniture.”

With a frown he climbed back down on all fours, disappointedly furling into a ball at their feet. Villain watched in satisfaction, bending down a moment later to pat the whining man’s head. 

All the while Youngest fiddled with the remote, just until he managed to get the television turned on. A moment later the screen switched to life, instantly the sounds of a newscast filling the group’s ears.

No.

“Hey,” Villain started, reaching around to take the remote for himself.

He couldn’t let them see anything they weren’t supposed to. Anything that could pull them from their brainwashing, even by the slightest bit. Youngest wrenched it away, barely taking notice, instead captivated by something dancing upon the screen.

The criminal’s heart skipped a beat. That something, just so happened to be himself.

Videos, pictures, recordings, even, of the three’s heroics blared across the screen, regular civilians that worshipped the group pleading for the team back. Other heros as well, begging for their friends and comrades to be found.

Villain clamored for the remote desperately, chest beating with a spark of adrenaline. All three of the other family members were fixed on the TV, brows furrowed as their minds twisted blank, refusing and yet fighting to digest what they were watching.

“Youngest! Give me the remote!” Villain shouted, the other man still refusing to give it up with an iron grip.

Oh, no, no, no, no-

“That’s…” Youngest mumbled, brain gradually working to achieve comprehension.

Medic’s expression was twisted in befuddlement alongside him, frozen rigid in place. “I don’t… understand…”

Please, no-

“Nngh…!” Hero whimpered, shrinking back with fearful puzzlement.

Villain couldn’t fail. Not then, and not ever. He couldn’t let them break free from their conditioning, couldn't allow them to remember, and most of all couldn’t afford to lose them. He’d never had such a loving, happy family, let alone a group of people he cherished so shockingly dearly, and he wouldn’t let his hard work go to waste so easily.

Finally, some button was switched that successfully flicked the screen, turning it to whatever else was showing at the moment. Still shaking, Villain sighed in relief as the other three blinked out from their trance, minds easing and carefully returning with his control still strict in place.

Medic sputtered in confusion. “What… um, sorry…” she mumbled, turning to her partner for an answer. He couldn’t let her know. He couldn’t let her realize, or she would hate him again-

“Momma, my head hurts.” Youngest whined, gripping the sides of his head and dropping into her lap. He scrunched the muscles of his face in an attempt to clear his head.

Still in that of a hazy daze, Medic’s vision still unfocused glazed over, she stumbled over her words. “Mine, um, mine.. too…”

Hero rubbed against her leg in dreaded distress, croaking whimpers scratching from his throat. He clawed the walls of his mind, shoving himself back down in favor of the brainwashing.

“Everything’s alright! Let’s just watch the movie, okay?” Villain brushed them off, trembling, quickly setting up the program correctly this time as the rest of his companions were plagued by bitter affliction. Anything to distract them.

Everything was alright. Everything was fine. He’d caught it just in time, and they weren’t going to remember. They weren’t going to leave him, because he wouldn’t let them.

Not like everybody else. This was different. Villain loved his family, and they loved him.

Didn’t they?

———————————————————————

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[oros-ash3s]

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⋆ Febuwhump 2025 ⋆˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*＊

Day 3 || “Pinned Down”

Exhaustion was wearing him thin. 

With the drugs coursing through his veins, slowly working its way through his bloodstream, turning his limbs to lead, and his battered, bloody body, which was screaming to give up, Atlas was sure it was a miracle he was still conscious, even if barely so. Any lesser soldier would have collapsed within seconds. He was lucky, so goddamned lucky, that the drugs had only begun to take effect as the car pulled out of the alleyway. 

He couldn’t keep this up much longer. 

As the darkened streets of the pitch-black night passed by, his eyelids growing heavier for every minute that ticked past, Atlas knew that he was running out of time. His breathing was slowing, breaths coming out ragged and heavy. His body was giving up, the blood loss and drugs finally taking hold. He knew it was only moments before his eyelids fluttered closed for the final time, and he was lost to Eden’s clutches. 

He and the man across from him both knew it. 

Atlas had never officially met the man before, prior to this night. He was sure they had run into each other, or at least almost had, in one of the many circumstances he and Wren had just barely missed capture in their haste. From the uniform he was wearing, the familiar black material with jade accents, the insignia of an eye resting just above his heart, Atlas knew exactly who he was. One of Eden’s commanders.

And he had fallen right into his trap. 

This mission had been intended to be a short one. It wasn’t one of their high-scale raids, with days of planning and carefully-chosen volunteers. No, it had been only the three of them: Him, Wren, and Alastair. They’d gone to one of Eden’s more low-security locations, a human building on the west-side of downtown. They’d blended in, snuck a bit of information and files out, and been done with it. There were no injuries to worry about, no attacks or pursuits they had to avoid. None of the usual issues to leave him distracted. 

He would’ve been fine – should’ve been fine.

But Alastair came with them last minute, and he’d been pissed. Pissed because they weren’t partners anymore and Wren was still treating him like one, pissed because they hadn’t even bothered to tell him, just dumped Alastair on him as they were leaving, like they got to make all the decisions. Like his voice didn’t count. He’d been pissed because Alastair was a lying, conniving, traitorous piece of shit and he wasn’t about to be used. Not again. 

So he’d gotten distracted, too wrapped up in how Alastair was sitting next to him all timid and nervous like Atlas was the one that had fucked things over, like Atlas was the one that had tried to sell them all out to their sworn enemy, the very man who had been hunting them down for months. The man who had burned him, and who was a drunk, and a murderer, and evil, and Alastair’s secret brother–

So when they set up camp, Wren declaring they were too tired to make the hour drive back to the base, Atlas hadn’t taken all the proper precautions like he usually would’ve, reminding them to set up an illusion. He hadn’t marched around the perimeter of their camp, checking their surroundings for anything suspicious, watching for any figures in the shadows, hidden perched on rooftops. He hadn’t noticed the cameras positioned above the van, or the odd silence that had settled over the street. He had been too angry for any of it, all of his attention set on Alastair’s slumped over figure, as he pathetically tried to make small talk, as if his weak attempts at conversation, the flitting little glances, eyes begging for forgiveness, would make anything better. 

He’d let his emotions control him. It was what he had been trained against, what they had warned him about. Soldiers didn’t have emotions. They didn’t have thoughts or opinions or feelings. It was what made them weak, what made them useless. He had spent so many years of his life dedicating himself to it, ridding the weaknesses that had been ingrained into his brain, pushing down every little emotion that slowed and held him back from his true goal, his mission. And yet, still, his emotions had been his very downfall. 

And now he found himself inside the sleek black van of Eden’s own, two men flanking his sides, pressing him down into the seat, their grip strong as iron as the sedatives slowly took control over his brain. 

His eyes fluttered shut for the millionth time in the past minute, and Atlas sucked in a sharp breath, flexing his fingers. All rational thought had been lost long ago, left in the alleyway with the rest of his dignity. Nonsensical plans swirled through his head, each new one worse than the last. He was growing weaker by the second, the borrowed strength stolen from Wren and Alastair fading from his muscles the farther the car travelled.

The farther they left them behind.  

He grunted, squirming from under his captors pathetically. They didn’t give up, their grip on his arms only tightening at his defiance. 

The man from across from him sighed, straightening up in his seat with a wince. To his credit, Atlas had not gone down without a fight. The blood smeared across the man’s crisply ironed suit was evident of that. The sight of the broken nose and red caked to the side of his face brought a boost of satisfaction surging through Atlas, distracting him from his own injuries, if only for a second. The fact that the man wouldn’t be able to show his face to the general public until his nose healed, lest rumours start about one of the esteemed CEO’s of the kindly Eden Inc., almost made the capture worth it. Almost. 

“Still up, huh?” He leaned forward in his seat, the streetlights from outside illuminating his face, causing the dangerous flicker in his eyes to be all the more unsettling. Atlas vaguely remembered him from the many lectures, photographs, and history textbooks he had read during his rather uneventful years at the warehouse. The face of Eden. Sasha Beneš. From the prim and proper suit, voice as smooth as velvet, and chiselled good looks, he was sure that the man in front of him was the current leader of the media branch, involved in all the politics and communications that came with running a widely known corporation such as Eden. Although he looked a little different with his nose so busted, his usually swoopy blond hair in a disarray from the scuffle. 

The man didn’t seem to be bothered by Atlas’ lack of response. If anything, he was amused, chuckling softly to himself as the boy did nothing but glare through half-lidded eyes, gaze alight with hatred. “Forgot you soldier-types are all trained to resist this sort of stuff,” Sasha muttered, reaching across the seat for something Atlas couldn’t make out. “God, Cato needs to lay off you brats a bit, you’re all too invincible for your own good. That woman doesn’t ever know when to take a fucking break.” He huffed out a breath of annoyance, turning back to Atlas, his eyes gleaming, shadows cutting sharp edges across his face. A beat of silence passing through the van, he held up the item for the boy to see: A vial of swirling milky-white liquid, a needle tip at the very end of it. 

Atlas’ blood froze, the restraints around him suddenly suffocating. 

“Don’t try and resist, kid,” Sasha cracked a grin, looming closer. “There’s no use.” 

Atlas sucked in a sharp breath, opening his mouth, to beg for mercy or tell the man to go fuck himself, he wasn’t sure. But his tongue was suddenly stuck at the back of his throat, the words gone before they could even leave his mouth. All struggle was just met with more force, pushing him down into the seat. It was smooth leather, well-cushioned and comfortable, but right now, it was the last thing Atlas needed. He blinked hard, pushing back the waves of exhaustion that were rolling over him, telling him to sleep, to give up. 

Wren and Alastair. He needed to get out and find Wren and Alastair–

Sasha pushed back his hair, fingers brushing against the soft crook of his neck. Atlas shuddered, every instinct inside his body telling him to fight, to defy him, but with the weight on his legs and arms, pinning him to the seat, he was completely and utterly trapped. 

“You belong to Eden, Zieliński. Don’t forget that.” Sasha whispered, his breath hot against Atlas’ skin. He raised the needle, the tip pricking against his skin, sending Atlas into a paralyzing panic. He had to get out–

“Sweet dreams.”

Sasha stabbed the needle into his neck and everything went black.

masterlist || next

✧ ೃ༄*ੈ✩

I initially had a much different scene planned for this prompt, but when I sat down to write this one I wasn’t really feeling it, so I came up with this instead!! I kinda like it better, tbh. but who knows, maybe I’ll write the other one (featuring post-Elite Atlas), after this whole challenge is over……

✧ ೃ༄*ੈ✩

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