Tumgik
#villain
My favorite Ai villains 🤖
836 notes · View notes
epiclamer · 1 day
Text
Dun dun duuuuunnnnnn
Tumblr media
Whatever it was that the villain had expected to see when they opened the door, this was not it.
Their hero, their nemesis, their enemy; any name, any title could’ve been used here, but it did not by any means describe their Hero. This was not Hero. This was somebody else entirely.
If the term somebody could even be appropriate in this case.
In front of the villain, stood the city’s one and only saviour, covered from head to toe in blood, scars, and scrapes. Someone who used to be, still was? Never was? Had been? Villain didn’t know, but it was unmistakeably this capital’s number one appointed protector.
They gagged—almost retched—towards the floor beneath them. Their senses were completely overloaded, their brain was being flooded by different overwhelming sensations each second: the red of the blood, the smell of the flesh, the taste of the iron.
Villain’s body seemed to freeze at the sight, allowing ample time for their eyes to suck it all in and their stomach to perform aerobatics. “H-Hero—” The words were thick, partially muted by another dry heave.
“Villain.”
They hated the way they spoke with no emotion.
“W-What…” They couldn’t hold back their horror any longer. “What did you do?”
The city’s saviour barely blinked. They turned their head back towards the bloodshed behind them, regarding it with blank eyes. “This? You mean?” They gestured with their hands and specks of blood flew from their fingertips.
Villain couldn’t tell whose blood was whose, some came from the bodies littering the floor, some came from the libertine themselves, it all mixed together; flotsam and jetsam. The criminal could barely stand the sight while holding their lunch.
“This is what I am, Villain. This is what the Agency trained me to be.”
The villain gagged, eyes watering, they cupped a hand to their face. “No…”
“Yes, Villain.”
“Stop.” Their head was reeling, their knees felt weak. When the other stepped forward, the villain stepped back.
“You know it’s true.” They spoke, but it didn’t sound like Hero. “You choose to push the truth away, but we both know what I really am.”
Villain gasped, lungs sucking in fresh, clean, un-bloodied air now that they had stepped out of the room. They needed to clear their head, this wasn’t the hero they knew so well.
“T-The Agency—”
“They trained me. They made me their weapon.”
“N-No—”
“Villain you know it’s true.” They snapped, startling the criminal; they had never known their hero to bite.
To calm their racing heart the villain had to back up again, they had to get away from Hero all that blood. Every step they took jolted their body in a way that shook their core, the other followed after them, tracking bloody footprints across the hotel carpet.
God, they were really going to be sick.
Villain took a deep breath, focusing on the steady in and out of their air. “T-The Agency used you— Hero you’re n-not a weapon.”
The other backed them up and into a wall—cornering them with their frame. “When will you learn, Villain. This is what I am, this is how I was programmed. You can’t fix me.” They punctuated their final statement with a jab to the criminal’s chest, earning themselves a violent flinch from the contact.
The words burnt into the villain’s brain as the other strode off, showing the slightest hint of anger in their step, but aside from that? Nothing. They remained soulless as ever.
That, however, would not be enough to deter the villain. They would simply need a different approach.
82 notes · View notes
thefoilguy · 2 days
Text
Tumblr media
Jason Todd (Red Hood) from DC Comics - Aluminum Foil Sculpture
70 notes · View notes
Note
Mother I'm on my knees and begging for a SPICY fallen angel villain × cursed by the devil hero. May thy pen shine and glamor 🙏🏻
The villain let out a relieved moan.
As they could feel it inside them, hard and hateful, they allowed themselves to close their eyes and enjoy the moment. They took in slow breaths, concentrating, preparing.
Eventually, they looked at the hero and a smile tugged at the corners of their mouth.
“Are you flirting with me?” they asked. One of their hands followed the hero’s collarbone.
“You tell me.” The hero pushed further and caught by surprise, the villain laughed breathlessly. They took the hero’s hand.
Back when they’d been an angel, they’d never felt anything like this. It was a new and exciting feeling. Something only a human body could experience like this.
“I swear,” they whispered. “One day, you’ll find yourself on your knees for me.”
“Is that so?” Another push. Another desperate gasp for air. The hero’s fingers dug into their biceps and the villain’s heart raged in its cage. It was cruel, very cruel.
They looked down at the knife in their chest, at the dark blood that ran down their body. By now, the hero’s hand was covered in it. A “mortal” had complete control over them and they weren’t even hiding it.
“You foul creature,” the villain said. The problem was that it hurt. It was an indescribable pain. The villain had been through all kinds of things like this throughout the centuries. Hell, they’d been tortured for the majority of them.
But this knife in their chest and this person in front of them were for some reason much more effective.
The hero was — in their own way — admirable. For a human, they were very brave. Their voice was sweeter than forbidden fruit.
Something about them excited the villain. They awoke something inside them. Something very ancient.
“I didn’t know your blood is red. So human,” the hero said. They dug their fingers close to the wound into the villain’s skin and there was nothing else for the villain to do but to grunt pathetically.
“You are full of surprises.” Their lips brushed the villain’s cheekbones until the hero let go of the blade and stared at its place there in the villain’s chest. “My immortality doesn’t look this pretty.”
“You can’t kill me like this,” the villain whispered. “You’re not the only who’s cursed. Not the only one who’s been punished.”
They pulled out the blade and let it fall to the ground, eyes wide. It was a horrible feeling, something they hopefully could forget some day. But the hero didn’t seem surprised.
The blood dropped to the ground and formed a little lake.
Clearly, the wound wasn’t closing right away. The villain knew it would take over an hour for them to see the scar. Usually, the bones would take much longer. Blood wasn’t a problem. They had bled for hours, years, centuries before.
“I would have killed you a long time ago,” the villain said. They put their head on the hero’s shoulder, almost embracing them in a strange hug. “I didn’t know your patience back then. I didn’t know your dedication.”
The hero pulled them closer and the blood dropped down the hero’s stomach as well.
“Do you like it? Do you like the way I am?”
“I do,” the villain said. “You are delightful, even though you try to kill me all the time.”
I want to kiss you. What does it feel like? What does it feel like to kiss someone?
“You know I cannot stop.”
“I don’t want you to. I hated you for that as well. I didn’t see you. But now I do,” the villain said. They could barely breathe. Their damaged lungs were filling up with blood but their self-healing body sew them back together. They were on the edge of drowning the entire time. “And I will keep haunting you.”
It was quite clear to the villain now. For the first time in their life, they had a real desire.
“Then I will keep killing you to lift the curse,” the hero whispered. “I look forward to the next centuries.”
83 notes · View notes
the-cypress-grove · 2 days
Text
Prompt: 218
"This is not how I raised you."
"No, you raised me to be weak. You raised me to be your puppet and do your bidding."
"It was necessary."
"And it will be the end of you."
66 notes · View notes
Text
Can we stop normalizing this thing where we give an explanation for every depraved thing a character ever did? Y’all can love a fictional character and own that they’re an asshole too you know that right? This isn’t real life.
36 notes · View notes
sunnynwanda · 14 hours
Note
Hi! Ive been following you for a long while and I love your writing so much!
If you feel like it, could you write a hero x villain, one of which is the type to get touchy and playful when drunk and accidentally confesses to the other like that? With the other being surprised
Ofc you can take it in whatever way you want! :D
Do Your Worst
Warnings: intoxication, slightly suggestive (i guess?), bad flirting xD
Villain was stoic. Cold as ice, unmoving as a mountain. They never flinched, never winced, never recoiled. No matter how strong the blow was, no matter how bad it hurt. No muscle dared to twitch on their carved face, not one sound escaped their pale lips.
They were made of stone - Hero was sure of it. 
Here remembered their first battle with Villain, the power of their blows unmatched, rumbling in the emptiness of the building, concrete crushing under their fists as they chased Villain relentlessly. In retrospect, Hero knows they must have broken at least five ribs, if not more. Yet, the only reaction they got from Villain was a quirked eyebrow - a mocking challenge. A dare to keep going, to give more. Bring it on.
Do your worst. 
Hero hated those words despite having heard them a thousand times before. A spark ignited deep within, turning into lightning, rushing through their veins like a wave. Passion and power. Hero had no idea where to draw the line. Villain was insatiable in their hunger, unstoppable in their pursuit of a thrill. Yet there was no satiating Hero's thirst either - they wanted more. More fire, more freedom. More of Villain.
But Villain was the epitome of indomitable. Impassive. Equable.
All the more surprising was the state they found Villain in today. No, surprising was not the word for what they were feeling. They were struck dumb, astonished, speechless. Anything but surprised as they take in the look of Villain swaying on their feet and coming to a halt in front of them with the sweetest pout on their soft lips. 
"Baby-y," they exclaim, excitement colouring their voice in a way Hero has never heard before. "What are you doing here?" 
Hero staggers back, their eyes blown wide. Villain attempts a smile, their lips curling up to reveal the dimples on their cheeks. Hero feels their heart skip a beat at the sight.  
"Villain, are you alright?" They start cautiously, part of them suspecting that their nemesis has been drugged. 
Villain nods, failing to form a stern expression and setting on an adorable frown. "Mhm. Missed you. So much." Their words come out slurred but manage to send Hero's eyebrows up into their goddamn hairline. 
"You... what?" Hero mumbles out, breath hitching in their throat as they process the words. They are quick to react when Villain stumbles forward, gripping Hero's outstretched arms for stability. 
Except, they don't stop at that. Once Hero steadies them and lets go of their hands, Villain doesn't step back. Instead, they wrap their arms around Hero's waist and rest their chin on Hero's chest as they tilt their head up. 
"Hi, baby," they muse, their pupils dilated from intoxication. Hero's throat goes dry at the sight, their hands twitching to touch Villain's flushed cheekbones, brush their fingers over the sensitive skin, ignite them the same way Villain's words have them on fire. 
"Hi," Hero breathes out, their mind spinning. "You're drunk." They state the obvious, earning a deep rumble of a chuckle from Villain. 
"Mhm," Villain hums, leaning closer, their chest flush against Hero's. "And you're pretty." 
"I- w-what?" Hero stutters out, their brain short-circuiting when Villain's hand slides up their chest to their neck, their fingers brushing the side of Hero's neck. "What are you doing?"
"Hm?" Villain looks up at them, blinking innocently and sending a shiver down Hero's spine. Holy mother of god. 
Hero wants to remove Villain's hands from their body, they really do. But, the moment they actually try, Villain gives them the most adorably heart-shattering pout they have ever seen, and who the hell is Hero to refuse them? 
They sigh heavily, cupping Villain's jaw, their thumb rubbing soft circles into their cheek. "Shh, let me get you home, okay?" They ask, gazing intently into Villain's heavy-lidded eyes. Villain nods, leaning into their touch with unexpected desperation, their lips parted in strained pants.
Hero draws them closer, holding them upright, but almost drops them when their apathetic nemesis yelps. Hero stares at their enemy cradled in their arms when Villain does the unthinkable. They giggle. The sound rings through the air, and Hero all but dies on the spot, their mouth hanging agape for a moment too long, drawing another soft laugh out of Villain, who must have decided to break Hero's mind because they wrap their arm around Hero's shoulders, nuzzling into their neck. 
"I've wanted to do this for so long," they mutter against Hero's skin, sending a flood of lava down their throat. Hero lets out a guttural groan, barely restraining themself from lifting Villain's head from their shoulder and devouring them on the spot. 
"Villain, please," Hero whispers, unsure of what they are pleading for - for Villain to stop or to keep going. Keep ruining me.
Villain shakes their head, their lips brushing against the side of Hero's neck when they speak again. "I won't have the guts to say this when I'm sober," they confess, and Hero freezes, too stunned to move, speak or even breathe.
They can't remember what they need the air for when Villain's cold fingers trace the outline of their lips. They feel intoxicated, Villain's drunken state influencing them in the strangest way possible, making them feel lightheaded like no alcohol ever could. 
"Villain," Hero warns through gritted teeth, struggling desperately to maintain control and composure when Villain stands on their tiptoes, leaning on Hero's chest for stability. "One more word from you, and I won't be responsible for my actions."
They press their forehead to Villain's, their eyes meeting with scorching intensity, Hero's gaze glowing with insanity and desire.
Villain might be made of stone, but Hero isn't. 
Hero is on the verge of falling apart, crumbling under Villain's smouldering hands like they are made of clay. 
"Do your worst," Villain whispers against their lips, and Hero loses it, capturing Villain's mouth, crushing into them with a groan rambling in the back of their throat. 
No, Hero is not made of stone. And neither is Villain.
Tumblr media
A/N: Hi, sweetheart! Oh my, thank you so much :) You have no idea what this means to me and how good it makes me feel to receive requests and notes like this! Love you with all my heart <3 xo Sunny
Masterlist
Taglist: @marvellousdaisy @alltimelowing@lateuplight @surplus-of-sarcasm@betwist@excusemeasibangmyheadonawall @enemies-to-idiots-to-lovers@miaowmelodie @thatonerandomauthor @hhabaddon@burningoutlikeicarus @daemonvatis @weepingcowboywolfbat @thelazywitchphotographer @kaiwewi @soul-of-a-local-bard @pigeonwhumps @aflyingsheepnamedrose @thatneptune @ohwellthatslifesstuff @worldsfromhoney@thiefofthecrowns @crow-with-a-typewriter @qualityrabbitsoup @stargeode@villain-life @villainsblood @whumpifi @glassthedumbass @silviathebard @misskowe @ayeshaturnedtoashes4444
34 notes · View notes
taroba · 14 hours
Text
Did fanart of dis bad bish w/ A big fat mood
😌🖤🩸🎩Black Hat
From Villainous by @alan_ituriel
❌️Do NOT copy, trace or steal my pieces!
❌️Do NOT repost w/out my permission!
instagram
23 notes · View notes
theoasiswinds · 1 day
Text
Tumblr media
There we go.. Fun practice art, my villain Joel.
23 notes · View notes
autumnmobile12 · 1 day
Text
My Hero Academia: Inko
If the DFO Theory is true, I want the plot twist to be that Inko is a former villain who straightened her life out after she found out she was pregnant.
Like that's not even her real name and her 'levitation' Quirk is way stronger than she makes it out to be. Never caught or even identified, but she forged her documentation and paperwork anyway just to be safe.
I'm not saying she resorted to villainy out of maliciousness; it could've been desperation but she always had an exit strategy planned.
35 notes · View notes
whatthehellami · 15 hours
Text
The villain, in their free time, ran a meme page.
21 notes · View notes
trusthevillain · 2 days
Text
"I'm flabbergasted by your inability to receive love. I'm insulted also."
32 notes · View notes
patchworkorphan · 16 hours
Text
Heroic betrayal: part seven
“You must let me show you where you’ll be staying, Hero,” said Supervillain, releasing the chains on Hero’s cuffs and stepping back away from them. Hero narrowed their eyes into a glare, keeping their hands close to their chest as they blinked at Supervillain.
“What do you mean, where I’ll be staying?” They snapped. Supervillain tilted his head as he regarded Hero, a small smile on his lips.
He shrugged. A gesture that should have conveyed a casual thing, but Hero saw right through it. “You can stay in the cellar if you like, though I’d say a bed would be far more comfortable.”
“I’d rather you let me go, or keep our contact to a minimum,” Hero told him. What the hell was he talking about, keeping Hero here? Forcing them to stay? They couldn’t… their brain wouldn’t let them comprehend exactly what this meant. The words just kept repeating in their mind drowning out all sense and reason:
Where you’ll be staying…
Supervillain had planned this, every detail, and Hero didn’t notice. They didn’t know, they didn’t see. Supervillain didn’t let a hint slip about this! Taking Hero captive and not letting them go, and it – though Hero would never admit it – it terrified them.
What if they weren’t as good as a detective as they thought they were? What if… Hero’s eyes studied Supervillain’s face. What if they had only seen what Supervillain wanted them to see?
Supervillain hummed thoughtfully, hands going behind his back. “I’ll show you the room anyways. Give you the tour while we’re at it. We’ll see if you have a change of heart.”
Hero’s nostrils flared as Supervillain turned his back and opened the door Hero initially came through. Supervillain’s knowing smirk remained on his face as he glanced back at Hero. “Come along now, I’m not a patient man.”
“I’d rather stay right here,” Hero told him, voice low. A pathetic attempt at stubbornness. Supervillain inclined his head.
“You can walk out the door, Hero, or be dragged out. Either way, you won’t be staying here. Would you like to keep your dignity intact?” He asked, his tone light and charismatic, his words anything but. Hero hated the way he spoke as if everything was certain. As if he could control everything and it would all work out his way.
Though what Hero hated more was the fact that they knew it was better to comply than to rile him up, so they stood and walked through the door Supervillain held open. They turned their head, looking down the long hallway to their right, where Flynn and Villain were. The door at the end of the hall must be where the kitchen is, but beyond that Hero didn’t know.
Maybe it would be better to know the layout of the house, Hero mused, they could plan their escape more effectively if Supervillain was stupid enough to offer a tour.  Supervillain, instead of turning towards the kitchen, went left, back the way Hero and Flynn came, back towards the cellar.
Hero followed Supervillain cautiously, one eye tracking his figure, the other careful to take note of the layout and the route back to the kitchen if they needed to flee on short notice.
Flee to who? To Flynn? A nasty voice mocked in their head.
At least I know what to expect with Flynn, Hero argued back.
Oh yeah… like how you knew he was a lying, backstabbing villain all this time right?
Hero bit the inside of their cheek instead of fighting with their smug, know-it-all side of their brain. At least when they tasted blood in their mouth, they could justify the pain. They could take their mind off of Flynn and the ache in their chest that they fought so hard to ignore.
Hero’s eyes zeroed in on the door to the basement as they stepped into another hallway. They were half expecting Supervillain to open it and shove them down the stairs before laughing like a cartoon villain and slamming the cellar door closed.
Instead, Supervillain walked past it, and Hero followed mutely, swallowing as they passed the cellar door. Now that it was so close, Hero really didn’t feel like going back there. Back to the cold and defenceless cot in a cell where any of them could come down and gloat.
Where Villain could come back and hurt them again and nobody would stop them.
Maybe a room would be better. At least Hero could barricade the door and break the window or something. They could have a better defensive position. Not be subject to their hosts moods when it takes them. Their nose throbbed at the thought of Villain coming down to their cell again and they shuddered.
Supervillain continued down the hall to another heavy door that looked solid and stiff. There was something strange about it, something Hero only noticed after Supervillain stopped in front of it and raised his hand to a keypad on the wall.
Hero stopped in their tracks. They didn’t want to swap one cell for another, and this one didn’t look as escapable as the cell in the basement. At least there Hero could see out all around them, except for the back wall, but a heavy metal door with an electronic lock would prove far more difficult.
There was a small beep ahead and Supervillain glanced back at Hero over his shoulder. A sly smirk graced his face when he noticed that Hero had stopped following altogether, probably standing six feet back.
“Oh Hero, that’s adorable. Are you frightened?”
“No,” Hero said a little too quickly. A denial. They both knew it. While Supervillain chuckled lightly, Hero wanted to punch themselves. “Where are we going?”
Supervillain’s smile was friendly and carnivorous all at once. “I told you; I’m giving you the tour of the house. Here,” Supervillain said, holding the door open for Hero and gesturing for Hero to walk in first. Hero’s throat went impossibly dry, as if Hero inhaled a pound of sawdust. They swallowed to try and restore some moisture in their mouth because what else could they do?
If they refused to comply, Supervillain would just drag them along anyway and there was no way they could fight back with their powers dampened and their hands cuffed in front of them. The weight of their blades on their back felt heavy in a way they never were before. They were right there… if only they could reach them.
Hero jutted their chin up, steeling their expression as they stormed forward and passed Supervillain, vowing that the moment they got free they would commission thigh braces for their daggers instead. That way they could never be in a humiliating situation like this again.
The room coming into focus drowned out Hero’s plans for new sheaths. Once inside the keypad locked room they stopped short and just stared. It was like the meeting room in the Hero headquarters, except, well… bigger. It was shaped like a hexagon with a domed ceiling that came to a point to let in some light through three skylight windows. The wall in front of Hero had two screens imbedded into it. One played the news on mute that was reporting some local event.
The two walls beside the back one had doors that led off to God knows where, but Hero’s gaze skimmed over them, and went instead to the corkboard on the wall to the left. Pictures of all the top ranked Heroes faces were pinned to the board; Superhero’s, Other Hero’s, and Hero’s were pinned to it. Tears pricked the back of Hero’s eyes when they saw Sidekick’s photo pinned to the wall too, a big red X painted over their face. Hero’s hands shook slightly at the sight… they should have never left Sidekick’s side. They should be at the hospital right now.
Instead, they were knee deep in enemy territory, on a tour of Supervillain’s house. Hero had to pull their gaze away from Sidekick’s face, to study the rest of the room, screwing their lips up tight to try and stop them from trembling.
Hero’s gaze dropped to a desk below the corkboard, where a hero scanner and comms sat, both of them were switched off for now. One Flynn must have stolen… been given. Hero’s hands tightened into fists at the sight. All this time… all this time Flynn was betraying them, betraying the Heroes and he had the nerve to be upset that Hero hated him?
Hero’s gaze flicked back up to Sidekick’s face again and they quickly turned away, looking instead to the giant circular table that dominated the middle of the room. A map of the city was printed on top of it. Hero recognised some of the marks that divided some of the city up. Territories that were occupied or controlled by different groups. Some good, some bad.
Hero stepped closer to the map table, noticing the chess pieces that were spread across it. There was a cluster of white on Hero HQ; the King, two knights, a bishop, a rook, but some other white pieces were dotted throughout the map. There were no black pieces, something Supervillain removed no doubt before Hero walked in. They couldn’t give away all their secrets.
Hero searched the table, making note of the pieces, trying to figure out who they were. A pawn was placed on top of central hospital which made Hero feel sick. They felt Supervillain step up beside them, but Hero didn’t bother to look at him.
“Should I take your silence as a good thing?”
“You can take my silence however you want,” Hero replied. Supervillain hummed beside them. He reached forward and plucked the pawn from the hospital and ran it between his fingers.
“Mmmm, does it have something to do with this?” Hero looked away from the map, lifting their head to stare at the news instead. Supervillain continued undeterred. “It is unfortunate what happened to Sidekick.”
“Don’t talk about them,” Hero snapped.
“What had to happen to them. They were interfering. Hot on Flynn’s scent, we had to dispose of—”
“Shut up,” Hero snarled, whipping their head to Supervillain, and stepping back away from him. “Stop fucking explaining everything you’re doing, or have done, to me like I want to hear your excuses!”
Supervillain cocked a brow at Hero’s outburst. He put the pawn back on top of the hospital, not taking his eyes off of Hero as he did. Hero searched Supervillain’s face, reading it for what he was thinking, and they didn’t like what they found. Realising their mistake too late they took a step back, trying to put some more space between them. Once they could put their weight on their back foot they could kick at Supervillain if he came at them.
Instead, Supervillain clasped his hands behind his back, chewing on words, looking for the best ones before he spoke. Everything was so measured. So controlled. It put Hero off, as if Supervillain was more machine than human.
His gaze wandered to the map, eyes running over everything with a critical eye. “Did you notice anything about the map?”
Hero frowned at the question, their attention turning back to the map as Supervillain walked around the table, stopping directly opposite Hero. They did a quick scan of it, their eyebrows knitting together. Did they miss something? No, they didn’t. The heroes know about the different territories. Maybe Supervillain giving away what heroes they thought were important with the chess pieces but other than that…
Hero’s eyes were drawn to the chess pieces, to the Hero HQ. King, two knights, a bishop, a rook. They saw the other rook and bishop somewhere else, but when they scanned the map again Hero realised what Supervillain was alluding to.
Hero hardened their gaze. “There’s no queen.”
“Very good,” Supervillain praised, and it felt like cockroaches crawled down the back of Hero’s neck. “The queen was far too meddlesome for my liking. Your perfect Sidekick you’ll note is still on the board, that was intentional.”
Hero raised their eyebrows at Supervillain in silent question and froze at his expression. There was no hint of anything human left in him, it was as Hero had imagined Supervillain to look like. Devoid of emotion and yet alive with a vibrant authority that made Hero want to hide away, to cower from — as if Hero was looking directly into the sun, eyes burning but they couldn’t look away.
“An incentive for you, Hero,” he said, his lips twitching up into a cold mockery of a smile. “A gift while you’re here, to make sure you follow the rules.”
Hero recoiled back a step, horror painting their features, as if Supervillain had killed a puppy in front of them and punched them at the same time instead of spoke.
“As long as you behave, well,” Supervillain continued, sea-green eyes drifting down to the pawn over central hospital. Hero’s heart thrummed in their chest and seemed to stop at Supervillain’s next words. “Let’s just say, Sidekick can remain on the board.”
Hero let out a shaky breath that was trapped in their chest, shaking their head. The chain between their cuffs rattled as their hands shook, tears pricking the back of their eyes as their gaze turned accusing and filled with a helpless-fuelled hatred.
“You— you’re threatening Sidekick’s life if I don’t do as you say?!” Hero demanded, voice teetering on the edge of hysterical.
Supervillain tilted his head, as if trying to understand Hero’s emotional response.
“I told you, Hero,” Supervillain began, walking around the table back towards Hero who was too focused on the pawn over the hospital. “We can be civil, this can be a beneficial relationship for us both. I can have you far away from the city, where I know you can’t interfere in the next stage of my plans, and you can rest easy knowing you’re saving Sidekick’s life.”
It was as if the world crumbled underneath Hero’s feet. They wanted nothing more than to collapse there and then, their body flooding with adrenaline as the weight of Supervillain’s words hit them.
It was all too much.
It all felt like too much.
Hero wanted to scream and cry, and punch something— no they wanted to punch Supervillain and Flynn because…
Hero flinched as a comforting hand came down on their shoulder, eyes widening slightly because when did Supervillain get that close.
“It’s a win-win, Hero.” Hero shrugged his hand off their shoulder and stepped back. Wet eyes filled with unshed tears met Supervillain’s sea-green eyes with a helpless kind of hatred. He smiled politely. “You’ll see,” he promised, “in time.”
Hero half expected Supervillain to gloat further, or press Hero on why they were nearly crying, maybe even be cruel and make fun of them. Supervillain walked passed Hero to the door that opened with a beep. Hero followed him with their eyes, biting the inside of their cheek and re-opening the wound.
“Let’s continue the tour, now that we have the unpleasantries out of the way.”
Hero stared at Supervillain, blinked and took a breath and started walking out the door without being prompted this time. They could feel Supervillain’s hungry gaze following them as they submitted compliantly, but what else was there to do? Now that he had threatened Sidekick, who was already in critical condition.
They wanted to be sick. After everything, Sidekick was only in hospital because Supervillain wanted to get to them. They wanted Flynn and Villain to capture Hero and bring them back here, where they— Hero swallowed the sob that threatened to climb their throat — where they would be… staying. Until Supervillain says otherwise.
It all felt so final, so formal, so decided when Hero didn’t make a decision. Supervillain was in control, that’s why he wanted to give Hero the “tour.” Not to show Hero around and let them see all the exits and escape routes, no. He wanted Hero to know that even if Hero knew the way out, even if they knew what doors would be locked and where the keys were, even if escape was within their reach — it didn’t matter.
They couldn’t leave.
If they left, Sidekick would be killed and it would be all their fault.
Again.
“Ah, Flynn,” Supervillain said behind Hero. Hero pulled themselves from their thoughts, raising their eyes to see Flynn standing at the corner between the cellar hall and hall that led to the dining room. He looked worried, his eyes not leaving Hero, who couldn’t quite meet his gaze. “Perhaps you’d like to show Hero to their room?”
Hero felt Flynn’s eyes on them, searching their face, imploring them to look at Flynn but they couldn’t. Their stomach was flopping like a fish out of water, threatening to throw their dinner up any moment.
“Uh, yes. I will, thanks.”
“No problem,” Supervillain replied, mirthful as he strode past Hero and down the hall towards Flynn. He clapped a hand on Flynn’s shoulder as he passed and shot one last look over his shoulder at Hero. Hero met his gaze once, fleetingly, then turned their head away again.
Flynn was the first to move, walking closer to Hero who stood like a kicked puppy in the middle of the hall. When Supervillain turned the corner he smiled a satisfied smile to himself.
It was so easy to get Hero’s defence to crumble, and now that Hero wasn’t a threat to his plans, well… the city was about to change.
Whether it wanted to or not.
*~*~*~*~*
Orphanage roll-call: @princess-bubble-blossom @morning-star-whump @revrevrew-personal @altvaggie
20 notes · View notes
ruckis-vandalizes · 3 days
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
"We were skeptical when she sent for him. We had every right to be given his reputation for being cruel and unusual. So when she sent for him we had assumed the worst. As we gathered ourselves and took our seats expecting a show, something unexpected happened that quickly changed our tune.
He wept."
@6clawdy6 ♡
22 notes · View notes
Note
Yes, yes, we love a bit of hero whump, though may I suggest if it is not too much.... some villain whump? 👀
-💜
Most of the time, the villain could deal with injuries perfectly. In fact, they'd been in med school for several years and had perfected stitching up nearly every inch of their own body. Usually, they wouldn't accept help under any circumstances.
Partly because it felt wrong to bother someone else with their troubles, partly because they were terrified of other people's (non-existing) skills. They couldn't risk it.
But they assumed being placed under house arrest with the hero watching them wasn't exactly usual.
It happened in the middle of a card game between the two of them. A week ago, they would have never agreed to such silly things but after a few days, they had realised there wasn't much to do. No internet connection. No smartphone, no TV. Just this house and a hyperactive hero that couldn't sit still.
Once a week they got to call their parents.
In the exact moment as they put another card onto the stack, the villain felt the stitches open one by one. At first, they simply denied it, made themselves think that it wasn't that bad. They were simply mistaken; it was surely just the usual pain and they were exaggerating.
But the pain increased and they could feel the wetness of the blood trickle down their back. A week ago, before the hero had captured them, they'd been in a pretty rough shape. A swollen face, several nasty bruises and this one stab wound that kept reopening. And stitching their own back? That was more than a little challenge. They hated it, they loathed it.
"I think I have to use the washroom," they said.
"Oh, really? Now that you're losing, huh?" The hero raised an eyebrow. They took these games a little too serious. "Do you seriously expect me to go easy on you because I am the hero? I've been playing this game for years. I have mastered it and I will destroy you, no matter what it takes. No matter what you try, I will-"
"Okay, you win, oh almighty hero." They threw their cards onto the table. It was getting worse. They didn't even know if they could stand up without tripping. Their vision blurred. Everything seemed to turn upside down.
"'Hey, that's not how this works," the hero said. "You can't just give up like that. I was supposed to defeat you."
"M-hm." The villain stood up and for a second, they really thought they would pass out. They took in a deep breath.
"Wait, are you okay?"
"Hm?" The villain didn't find the hero's eyes right away and they could feel their own body sway. God, they needed painkillers, rubbing alcohol, thread, needle... "Yeah, be right back."
They walked past the hero, always in search for something to hold onto but they didn't come very far.
"Oh my god." The hero sounded a little too concerned. The villain thought themselves to be quite a good actor and they weren't even swaying that much. "What the...?"
The hero was next to them in seconds, their hand on the villain's arm. They held onto them.
"What did you do...?"
"What? Nothing, I...oh fuck..." Involuntarily, they grabbed the hero a little too harshly when they felt the wound pulsating.
"Your entire shirt is drenched in blood!" The hero's gaze had hardened and a more concentrated look had replaced their playful smile.
"I got it, it's alright," the villain mumbled. They let go of the hero to drag themselves to the bathroom but the hero had other plans.
"Lay down on the couch," they said.
"You're not my boss," the villain argued. Sometimes, they hated themselves for their stubborness but being nursed by the hero sounded like a greater punishment than even house arrest. Being vulnerable around them, letting someone else take care of them...it sounded like actual hell.
"Please," the hero said. They took the villain's hand and the villain was so confused by this gentle approach that they almost forgot about the pain. They were sure no one else would ever beg to take care of them. When they remembered how violent their capture had been and how many heroes had punched them, they got goosebumps.
They would never tell anyone but they were having nightmares about their fights. Anxiety was eating them up. So, they were almost glad that the hero was observing them at their home.
"It's fine, really," the villain mumbled. "I got it."
"You are bleeding out. You're not fine. Sit down." More or less of their own volition, the villain eventually sat down on the couch. "I'll take your shirt off now, alright?"
The villain's hand was still in theirs.
"Okay," the villain agreed. Their breath hitched and they prepared themselves for the inevitable pain that would follow. However, the hero wasn't rough with them.
"Isn't that from last week?" the hero asked while they pulled the bloody shirt over the villain's head.
"Yeah."
"They gave me an entire protocol about your injuries. There wasn't anything about a stab wound. Just your ankle and your face."
The villain smiled tiredly. "Sounds about right."
It wasn't a big secret that the agency preferred to be silent on how exactly they caught their villains.
Against the villain's burning back, the hero's cold fingers felt heavenly. They put their palm against the villain's skin and pushed them a little forward to see the injury better.
"Did you stitch that yourself?"
"I tried, yeah."
"It looks pretty good," the hero said. "Just give me a second, I will grab everything."
The hero stood up and left for the bathroom.
And the villain sat there, perplexed. When had they ever allowed someone else to even touch them? When had they ever undressed in front of someone else?
What was happening? Were they really this desperate loser who needed comfort that bad?
The villain stared at their hands, their trembling hands. There was no way they could stitch any wound like this, not even if it was on their thigh.
It was more than frustrating, more than a little annoying.
"Is there anything else I should know about? Allergies maybe?" the hero asked. The villain turned around and was surprised to see the hero with all the things they would have grabbed too. There were even painkillers and a glass of water in their hand. The villain shook their head. "Alright. Take this."
All of it was a little...too good to be true. What the hero asked seemed reasonable and their actions were too. The villain swallowed the painkillers and watched as the hero sat on the couch. They pressed a clean towel against the villain's wound and despite their carefulness, the villain hissed.
"Your pain from one to ten? How bad is it?"
"I..." the villain realised they had never thought about it. Usually when they tended to their own wounds they were like a machine, following instructions they had burnt into their system a long time ago. It didn't matter if it burnt or hurt, as long as the wound was closed. But the hero was actually communicating, they were careful and gentle. "...maybe a three?"
"Are you sure?"
"Okay, it's a five." The hero seemed to be another person completely, their jokes and their cheery manner were long gone, yet they were friendly and soft. Apparently, this was the professional side of the hero.
"Do you think it was a clean knife? Your wound doesn't seem to be infected."
"It should have been. Heroes clean their knives regularly, don't they?" For a moment, the hero was quiet and the villain wasn't sure if they had said the wrong thing. They cleared their throat. "Uhm, I can also stitch the wound, if you..."
"No, it's okay. It looks pretty clean, so I'm not going to put any alcohol on it. Don't want to damage your tissue." Woah. The villain had never really cared about that. They'd just drench their wounds in alcohol to kill any infection causing thing, even if that damaged their tissue. "One more thing before I start stitching."
"Yeah?"
"Just out of curiosity. Do you know whom of my colleagues did this to you?"
The villain's stomach tingled. The hero was probably not asking out of pure curiosity.
146 notes · View notes
serickswrites · 10 hours
Text
Make Me Your Villain II
Master list link here(includes chapters, summary, and character bios)
Warnings: referenced emotional manipulation, referenced death, referenced murder, grief, isolation
Liam teleported into the one place he would be safe, the one place that Jude would leave him be. As the decaying walls of the Haven materialized around him, Liam let out a sob. He had been lied to and manipulated for years. And people had died because of it. The Haven was in disrepair. The once resplendent estate of his family had fallen to ruin after a fire when Liam was eight killed both his mother and father and nearly took his life. Liam still had a burn scar on the back of his calf. A fire, Liam realized, Jude had likely started to kill him. And his father.
Liam’s father was a quiet, kind man. Liam was beginning to forget what his father’s voice sounded like, what his face looked like. He could remember his father’s eyes, the same eyes as his own, but not his hair color. Liam’s father had been a lightening wielder, and a powerful one at that. He could call lightening from the sky, pull it from the ground, and send it surging through the world. But he only ever used the power when there was a great need. Liam suspected that his father had given up his power when Liam’s mother came into the picture. Liam’s mother was his whole world. Liam adored her. But as he stood in the foyer, he realized that her face, too, was fading from his memory.
Liam wiped the tears from his cheeks. There was no point standing in the ruins of the place he had called home all those years ago trying desperately to remember the people who raised him. There was no point because they couldn’t help him, as much as he wished they could. The man who had raised him, the man who he thought was one of the best, the man he followed blindly for years, was evil. Jude had to be stopped. And the only way Liam could do that is by rebuilding the Haven first.
It took Liam hours to assess all the damage to the house. The east wing had smoke damage, but overall was habitable once it was cleaned. Between the three bedrooms, kitchen, library, and conservatory, Liam felt that it would be the easiest place to start. Liam was grateful that there was one bedroom and bathroom that was completely untouched. The west wing, on the other hand, needed more help. Two rooms—a sitting room and a bedroom—were mostly ash and blackened wood. Three rooms—the ballroom, bedroom, and dining room—were slightly better with severe smoke damage and partial burns. Liam shook his head. He needed help to repair these rooms.
He decided it wasn’t worth going out onto the grounds. Liam knew the pool, tennis courts, green house, labyrinth, and empty stables were unharmed. Though, they were probably in desperate maintenance needs, Liam didn’t really care. He had no one to share the grounds with.
No one.
Liam was alone. So completely and totally alone in this world. No family, no friends, no one. Liam was certain that Jude had probably already broken the news to the citizens of Hiraethian of his defection. Jude probably even blamed Liam for the recent uptick in crime and destruction. That wasn’t a lie, Liam had done those things. But he had thought they were the right thing. He had believed Jude so completely.
He couldn’t go back to Hiraethian for help. If he did, he was just as likely to be shot on sight or thrown in jail for crimes he didn’t commit. And so he would have to journey to the next town—a mid size city called Oxwell—to see if he could get help with the renovations. It wasn’t likely that a town four hours away would have heard of his crimes.
As Liam settled into the quiet, dark house, he tried not to let his mind drift to the betrayal he felt at Jude. How could he have been so stupid? He was a child of eight. Of course he believed the man who pulled him from the fire. Pulled him, but not his parents. Liam had clung to Jude in those early days. Following him everywhere. Jude had sent him to be alone in his new spartan bedroom. Liam had cried for hours, the shadows gathering around him. When Jude returned to find him, Liam’s shadows had struck. It was then that Jude took Liam to the gym in Sluagh to train. Liam spent days training. Years of his life dedicated to honing his shadows into lethal, powerful weapons.
When Liam turned fourteen, Jude sent him on his first solo mission. It had been such a roaring success—Liam had tracked down a bank robber and captured the man without any bloodshed. After that, Liam spent more time fighting crime—or so he thought—than anything else.
And so to find out it had all been a carefully crafted lie, broke Liam. Broke him more than he had the words for. He knew he had to fight back. Had to fight to save his city, his people. But for now, all he wanted to do was hide. And rebuild.
It took three weeks of teleporting back and forth between the Haven and Oxwell before Liam was able to find a contractor that was willing to travel four hours. Liam was sure his offer to double the contractor’s fee helped. It was just money. And he had plenty of it, though he realized in addition to lying to him for all those years, Jude had also been stealing from him, too.
It took four days of convincing himself that if he teleported the crew in, he might blow his cover. Teleportation was a rare ability, even among those with powers. Shadow wielding was even rarer. And so Liam offered, instead, to house the contractor and crew until the job was completed.
The east wing was restored in four months. In that time, Liam had worked up the courage to return to Hiraethian. Concealed by his shadows, Liam tracked Jude to city hall. He saw Jude meet with the mayor—a man who had commended and expressed undying gratitude for all of Liam’s service—and share a plan to hunt him—Liam—down and execute him for his crimes. Crimes Jude had committed. He realized even as he tried to convince the few civilians who saw through his shadows of Jude’s betrayal, no one would believe him. Jude was beloved. And he had struck first. Liam was the villain of the story. The source of all evil that plagued Hiraethian.
The west wing took another five months to restore. In that time, the contractor had brought in a crew to restore the grounds so at least Liam could enjoy the vast expanse of lands in his exile. Liam was relieved the project was done. Even if it meant he was alone once more. He needed space to think. Space to research. And space to plan on how he would take Jude down. Once and for all.
Tags: @dutifullykrispyland @jesssmolfur @parad0xical2 @st0rmm @keeper-of-all-the-random-things
16 notes · View notes