💭 @whumpknife - Tumblr Blog

Just stay with me for one second, okay? I want you to consider this.

MOON KNIGHT | 1x05 “Asylum”

Something about a winged hero, maybe the villain threatening to or actually grounding them in some way? Winged characters in general are amazing. I love your writing!!

"There's a security system around the whole compound," the antagonist said, as they knelt on the courtyard floor, fiddling with the cage door. "If you try to fly too high, you'll burn those gorgeous wings of yours beyond repair, and wouldn't that be a shame?"

The protagonist watched them, coldly.

The antagonist let the sparrow fly free. It soared up, up, up in a panicked flutter of wings - sensing escape - only to collide with a previously unseen barrier just above the topmost tower. There was a flash of sickly light, and then only singed feathers floating back down to the floor.

One charred, tiny feather landed not far from the tip of the protagonist's wing.

The antagonist offered them a faint smile, from where they knelt on the floor. "Do we understand each other?"

The protagonist said nothing, their attention on all that was left of the bird.

"Judging by the look in your eyes," the antagonist said, straightening, "I think we do."

The protagonist turned to look at the antagonist. They wondered what the antagonist's eyes might look gouged out. It was not, after all, always wise to trap oneself in with a winged creature and consider that safety. People used to know better.

"That was unnecessary," the protagonist said.

"You speak."

"I bite too."

The antagonist grinned back at them, sharp and delighted. "So do I." They took a step closer, and the protagonist couldn't decide if their lack of fear was stupidity or something else. "Don't worry though, I didn't lure you here to hurt you."

"I am not worried."

The antagonist laughed. "No, I imagine a creature like you fears very little, least of all a mortal." They stopped, a metre away, rocking giddily on the balls of their feet. "You can learn to though, I am sure."

"You didn't lure me here to hurt me. But you are capable of it."

"Gosh, you're smart. Did you know that half the people I consulted told me you were feral?"

The protagonist mimicked the antagonist's grin. Their own teeth were much, much sharper. "Maybe I am."

The antagonist gave an admiring sigh. "The other half were more cautious, which is why my employer hired me in the first place. Don't get me wrong, I'm happy to provide you something to attack, for enrichment. But it won't be me."

The protagonist's gaze roamed over them, searching for some other ward that might burn them at a touch.

The antagonist winked at them.

"Of course," the antagonist said. "I knew you were smart. I know exactly what you're capable of. I've seen your angelic work."

"I am no angel."

"You safeguard the weak, even as you terrify them. Horrify them. What could possibly be more divine than that?"

"And you wish to prevent this safeguarding."

"It's nothing personal." The antagonist held their hand up, placating. "I'm not one of those monsters who envies flight so keenly that they would clip another's wings purely out of jealousy, or so no one else will ever witness something so exquisite."

"No," the protagonist said. "I imagine this is not personal for you."

The antagonist's head tipped, questioning.

The protagonist ached, itched, yearned to fly. Their wings rippled, gusting a matching threat of wind across the courtyard. A crack appeared in a far wall.

It was personal for them, the second someone threatened their wings.

The antagonist sucked in a breath, but they still did not look frightened. They looked giddy, eyes gleamed. They stood, impossibly unmoved, even against such force.

It was the protagonist's turn to pause, to consider the antagonist anew. No one had simply stood like that before.

"Take it all down," the antagonist wet their lips, hungrily. "Go on. You still won't be able to fly away. You'll just have to sleep in the rubble."

The protagonist took a step back.

"What are you?" they asked.

"What do I look like?"

"Looks can be deceiving."

"So true!" The antagonist laughed, good-natured and amused, all over again. They reached down to pick up the small token bird cage, clicking the empty cage door shut. "But it doesn't matter what I am. It doesn't even matter who I am. Not to you. It won't save you."

"I'll kill you before I let you leave me here, on the ground."

The antagonist bowed their head. "You'll try. That is your right."

"Maybe I'll fly up anyway. How would your employers feel about that?"

"They wanted me to kill you, so," the antagonist shrugged, "I doubt they'll mind. But I'm more of a put the spider in a cup, kind of person, you know?"

"Do you imagine you are the first person to ever try and hold me?"

"Oh." The antagonist widened their eyes. "Not at all." Their eyes returned to normal, and something utterly cold slithered politely across their face. "But I will be the last. Sing if you need anything, little bird! I'm making tea."

And then, they sauntered away towards the cracked doors, without a care in the world.

#fics

lousolversons

“This body that I’ve brought your mind back into is temporary. It’s already failing. I doubt you have more than a couple of increasingly painful days left. Then I’ll toss you away and start all over again.” - WESTWORLD - S04E06 - Fidelity

#westworld #4x06

the-modern-typewriter

Hi! Your work is simply captivating, it's amazing how you can convey such strong emotions in your stories. If you're still taking requests, can you write a snippet where the villain has captured the hero and needs to hurt them (e.g. a broken leg) to prevent them from escaping? If you could have the villain tautingly/gently comfort the hero after they have injured them that would be great.

Sorry if this has been requested before, keep up the good work! :]

It started with the villain holding up their belt, all soft leather and silver buckle glinting in the overly-bright light.

"Would you like to bite down on this?" the villain asked, oh so courteous. "It might help."

The hero had taken one single look at the villain's face, at the simple baseball bat in their hands, and nodded. They knew the villain after all.

"Hold still, okay?" The villain tucked a strand of hair back from the hero's fear-sweaty forehead. "I'd like to make it a nice clean break. Neither of us wants to to mangle you, hm?"

It wasn't that the words didn't cross the hero's mind; the 'I won't run, I swear' and the 'I promise I won't even try and escape this time' and the 'please'. Of course it did. It was only that none of those declarations would make a difference, and the wait was its own prolonged sort of agony. So was holding still, though.

"Here," the hero mumbled around the belt, instead, pointing with entirely too steady hand to the exact spot. "For the least permanent damage."

The villain beamed at them, all soft and fond around the many edges of them. They hit the spot exactly.

It ended with the villain's arms curled around the hero as surely as shackles, cradling them close, as the hero's vision popped nauseous black spots.

"Shh, shh." The villain pressed a kiss against the hero's hair. "I've got you."

The words made the hero aware that they were still making sound. Raw, keening, involuntarily. They spat out the belt, shuddering, distantly aware of the bite marks tearing the material. Bile clawed up their throat. They felt dizzy. Too hot. Too cold. Their leg -

Well. They couldn't think about their leg.

The villain's closeness was an overwhelming thing; their expensive scent, their warm hands, their breath against the hero's skin. Overwhelming was better than thinking about the leg. Maybe. The hero squeezed their eyes shut.

Stop thinking about the leg.

"You're alright," the villain murmured. "You did so well! Barely even a flinch. And your screaming -" The villain's grip tightened, a reassuring little squeeze of the hero's shoulders. "Just lovely. Perfect."

The villain hadn't always been like that. Once, the words, the praise, would have left something warm fluttering through the hero. Maybe, shamefully, it still did. Given the alternative.

"I'm so proud of you," the villain said. "You break so beautifully."

"Painkillers?"

"Oh, love."

Right. Of course not. What a stupid question. They pressed their face against the villain's shoulder, breathing hard, not sure if they were waiting for the ringing throbbing pain of it to stop, for the world to soften into something more manageable, or to pass out into sweet oblivion. Whatever came first, perhaps.

They did not pass out. Eventually, they even managed to sit up, leaning back heavily against the headboard of the bed. The villain's touch lingered, caressing a tear away from their cheek.

The villain picked up their belt again, head tilting as they considered the hero.

The hero's stomach lurched, twisted, threatened to upchuck every rancid thing in it. Their eyes widened.

The villain clicked their tongue at the hero's expression.

"It's your own fault," the villain said. "You'd hop. You never take reasonable bed rest, do you? You're much too conscientious. Too talented an escape artist."

"I'm not," the hero said. "I'm like, so bad. My focus is shot. I don't - I won't - [Name]."

"Now, now," the villain offered them the belt again. "Don't talk down about yourself. You're magnificent. Brilliant. Utterly deadly. Only person who could ever beat me, yeah?"

The hero swallowed. Their track record, their damn perfect track record, spoke for itself. "We're done, after this?"

The villain offered them the belt again.

"I think we've established it's best you don't talk at all for the next bit."

They would have to be done. They would have to be.

#fics

hrgves

oh my this might’ve unlocked something very dark in me

#i'm ONLY looking at ur titties rn #the witcher

skulandcrossbones

jaskier | witcher s02e05: turn your back

#the witcher

the-modern-typewriter

Hero forced to go on a date with a villain to convince them to help? Hero is terrified and villain is flirty. (Love your writing so much ❤️)

"Oh, good," the villain purred. "You received the clothes I sent you."

The hero's skin prickled under the villain's admiring gaze, heat rushing to their face.

The villain smirked, even though the blush was hardly flustered pleasure, so much as some flushed combination of helpless, frightened fury and humiliation. The villain made a twirling gesture with their finger.

The hero turned in a slow circle, however much they hated putting their back to the villain for even a second. Not that it mattered. The villain was just as dangerous standing in front of them as behind them. The hero still jumped when they turned to find the villain right in front of them, movements perfectly silent. Or maybe the hero's heart was simply pounding too loud to hear.

"You are even more stunning than usual," the villain said. "Now say hello." They tapped their cheek.

The hero leaned in, dizzy, and pressed a quick chaste kiss where the villain indicated.

The villain curled an arm around them, pulling them flush in one easy movement.

The hero squeaked.

Any thought that this could even vaguely be like a normal date, with the same expected courtesies, social niceties and distance, vanished. They really hoped they weren't expected to put out on the first date too. They weren't sure what they do would do if that was the price that the villain demanded in return to their aid.

The hero tried to focus on the main goal, but their every instinct twitched to have the villain so close. It made it difficult to think straight.

The villain inhaled, lips brushing the hero's cheek in turn. "Fear," they said. "Is such an exquisite perfume on you, my dear."

Then the two of them teleported.

The villain's ability was such that they could transport themselves across both great distances, and also great time periods. The only thing they needed to do it was some small thread, an item or even a memory, to connect them to where they wanted to go.

It made them almost virtually impossible to imprison or out-trick.

It also made them the only person the hero knew who could rescue the trapped civilians before it was too late.

Unfortunately for the hero, 'too late' for the villain, given their abilities, was rather less of a ticking time bomb than it was for the hero's stress levels. How long would they draw it out? There were still limits, there had to be. Bringing back the dead on one's own timeline was a rather different skill, after all.

The two of them appeared upon an empty beach, the sky lit the same fading gold as the sand. The air was warm and sweet. There was a picnic blanket awaiting beneath a small marquee like-covering, its hangings entwined with glimmering lights. There was a picnic basket, too.

"I'm told," the villain said, "that you enjoy picnics."

The hero was never going to enjoy a picnic ever again.

Their stomach squeezed, unsure how they were even going to manage to eat anything without hurling. Except, well, they could imagine how well throwing up in the middle of the date would go. They resisted the urge to start running, or at least recoil. They let the villain lead them to sit down instead.

The villain retrieved delicate glasses, too fine for any normal picnic, and poured them - it was the hero's favourite wine, too. Their favourite food. How could the villain know? How intently did they watch?

The hero shoved away another wave of dizziness.

"So," they said. "You said you'd consider helping, if I came to this date with you. I'm here, so-"

The villain clicked their tongue and held up their glass in toast. "Don't be so eager to skip the foreplay, love. You'll need it."

The hero nearly dropped the glass in panic.

The villain smiled, head tilted in that admiring way once more.

"I said I'd go on a date." The hero tried to keep their voice light, careless, suitably at an advantage. "That was it. I said nothing about how long that date would be, or how good it would be. I've shown you what it can be like if I behave, but-"

"But if I don't help you, you'll be a naughty little hero?" The villain bit down on their lip, as if delighting in the idea.

The hero stopped short, feeling like they'd put their foot in a minefield. An active one.

The villain laughed, softly. "Whatever would I do with you, if you did that?"

"You could save them now," the hero tried again, mouth dry. "Come back, after - I'm not going anywhere." There was nothing light or careless in their voice now. "Where would I go? I have no idea where we even are."

And thinking about that, about being somewhere completely alone with the villain...

"And miss that adorable desperation on your face? Sweetheart."

The villain sounded chiding, and the hero shivered.

They gulped down a mouthful of wine but couldn't taste it over the acrid panic burning in their throat.

The villain settled back, perfectly at ease, and set their glass their down. They arranged food on...there was only one plate. One plate, two forks. The villain loaded up a bite, holding the morsel out the hero's mouth, eyes agleam with dark amusement, with a hunger that had nothing to do with the horrifyingly delicious scents surrounding them.

"I'm curious," the villain said, "how far you'd go save them. And the night is still so young! Shall we find out?"

In the end, everyone was saved from the caves and the oncoming tide. In the end, the hero lay upon a picnic basket, cool evening air stroking bare skin and...

And the villain stopped. Arms braced on either side of the hero's head, studying them.

"I said I wanted to see how far you'd go to save them," the villain said. "I didn't say I'd make you do it. When you pick me you'll do it of your own volition."

The hero stared at them, brain un-computing.

The villain smiled, and pressed their fingers to the hero's lips instead, parting them a fraction.

"They're saved, my dear. Have been for a while. Now." They sat up, and pulled back. "Shall we do this again and see what you do next time? I still can't quite predict you...you're incredible."

And time looped back to the beginning of the evening again.

#fics

the-modern-typewriter

hello! I hope you're doing well. perhaps if you're taking requests, could I ask for something? a hero rejected and ignored with the mask off, only finds some sort of recognition in the glory of being a superhero. nobody really sees them behind the facade though - except for a cunning villain whose admiration is nothing short of dangerous obsession. maybe the hero is conflicted between the desire and the guilt of being wanted like this.

thank you for all you do, I really admire your work.

"You want them to love you." The villain spoke softly, with eyes that were anything but. "They won't, they can't. Not really. No one can truly love something which they do not understand."

The hero's mouth felt sandpaper dry. They knew the way the words, the way that the villain was looking at them, should have tripped a hundred different alarms. Mostly it sent a guilty thrill coiling through their stomach. The terror-delight of a rollercoaster, right before it plunged through the biggest drop.

"And I suppose," the hero kept their voice light, teasing, "you think you understand. Does that mean you love me?"

The villain's eyes burned even darker at that question. They hummed, head tilting as they considered the hero.

"Depends on your definition of love." They continued to circle, pinning the hero to the spot with their fluid movements, sinuous as shadow. "Do I feel any particular affection towards you? No." They stopped behind the hero, catching their throat in one swift movement, pulling them back flush, lips pressing against the shell of the hero's ear. "Do I take great interest in you? Certainly." The hand tightened. "One could even say I take pleasure in you."

The hero swallowed. They knew, too, that they should recoil from the touch. Wrench away from the threat-promise of it. They didn't. A shiver ran down their spine instead and they knew the villain felt it.

"I find my thoughts turning to you," the villain murmured, "more often than not. You are a consuming thing."

The hero closed their eyes, and drew in a steadying breath.

"I don't think that's love so much as obsession," they replied. "But nice try."

They couldn't remember the last time anyone had touched them, and it left them a little dizzy. Giddy, even. They wanted to lean in, not pull away, but after their belated moment they twisted and slipped free. After all, if they didn't do that, the villain wouldn't follow. They wouldn't need to. And being followed...well, maybe that wasn't love, but squinting in the half light it could be close. Closer than anything the hero had ever had before. It was, at least, proof of being wanted. Needed, even.

The villain stalked unerringly after them.

The hero wet their lips, heart pounding.

Of course, the villain couldn't possibly really understand them. If they did, they wouldn't still have any great interest in the hero at all. Outside their mask, the hero was no one worth having any particular interest in. Life had proven that more than once.

But in the mask...

In the mask they were a hero, a worthy opponent, someone worth admiring and coveting. And the hero knew, they knew, that the villain's desire was a dangerous thing, and yet there was something intoxicating about it.

"You," the villain said, "are an empty starving pit that the masses project all their hopes and wishes on. And that fills you up, at least for a little while."

The hero faltered, stumbled, not expecting that.

"The problem with that, however, is the at least for a little while." The villain took advantage of the brief hesitation to catch up, hands winding around the hero's wrists like shackles. "Their adoration is empty of understanding, and so the hit of it will never quite scratch the itch in you. Never quite leave you full. I, on the other hand..." They pulled the hero's bloodied knuckles up to their lips, pressing a too gentle kiss, "know you better than you know yourself. I know exactly what you need."

The hero jerked back.

"Ah, ah." The villain's nails dug in, not letting go. There was no twisting easily free that time. "You wanted to be chased, hero. I kindly obliged. Now you're going to let yourself be caught."

The hero laughed, a little shaky. "If you think that's true-"

"Sam."

Sam froze. That was their name, their actual name. But the villain couldn't know their actual name, because that meant that the villain knew who they actually were, and if they knew who they actually were-

"Told you," the villain crooned, "that I know you."

Sam stared at them, wide-eyed, off-balance.

"I know you have no actual superpowers." The villain squeezed their wrists. "Though you are clever, an expert in smoke and mirrors and creating tech. Manufacturing a little magic for yourself in that mask. Enough to fight against people like me, even! Incredible."

Sam's ears were ringing. They tried to take a step back, to jerk their wrists free again. The villain simply moved with them.

"You got so much more interesting when I learned that," the villain said. "Seeing what you'd come up with next..." The villain sighed, dreamily. "Power is power, but you..."

"Let go of me." It came out hoarse.

"What do you think happens when your adoring public finds out that you're a liar and a fraud?" the villain asked, with a sly smile. "When they learn you've been hoarding power that they could use to protect themselves, so that they have to rely on you instead?"

Any thrill vanished. Sam felt a rush of cold.

"I could disable that tech, bit by bit," the villain said. "Unravel you, leave you with no option but to do what I say. But I think you're going to kindly oblige me and take that mask off instead, don't you?" The villain let go, expectantly.

The hero considered bolting, but - where would they go? The villain knew who they were. They hadn't factored in for the villain ever knowing that. What if the villain did tell everyone? The hero reached to remove the mask with trembling hands, with a small click and a whir.

It was over. They were over. If the villain didn't kill them, everything would go back to nothing, and to being nobody and -

"Oh, Sam." The villain took the mask. "You don't understand me anywhere near as well as you think you do."

Sam blinked.

The villain pocketed the mask, and reached out to trace the contours of Sam's face. The look on the villain's face hadn't changed. It seemed impossible that it hadn't changed. Still burning, still intent. Their grip tightened on Sam's jaw.

"You want to be wanted." The villain leaned in, and pressed a kiss to Sam's mouth. "You want to be important." They wrapped an arm around Sam's back, pulling them flush once more. "And I want you to be mine. I think we can come to a mutually beneficial agreement, don't you?"

#fics

my-whumpy-media

#outlast

addicted-to-yaoi

#art

coldresolve-deactivated20221024

Ziptie for your doodle thing :)

#art #eyes emoji

himizuka

You will never be hurt.

#art

the-modern-typewriter

Hey hey. Been following your stuff for a while and your writing never gets old—you’ve been such an inspiration to me, and if I could write like even a fraction as well as you can? I’d considered myself blessed lol. If you feel like, could you maybe do a prompt about a vampire that’s being really possessive/predatory toward a human and the human’s kind of laughing and going along with it until they start realizing that they’re in legitimate danger? Enjoy the holidays, and happy New Year!

“You are mine.” The vampire’s words were a growl against the human’s ear, lips cold against their skin as they pressed hungry, burning, kisses. “Don’t you understand that?”

The human gasped, head tipping back against the wall. The night spun a little from the fruity cocktail they had drank, and the dancing, and this. They couldn’t stop the grin from crossing their face, eyes glittering with mischief as they curled their fingers in the vampire’s hair.

“Yeah?” They rocked their hips forward into their lover. “Nobody in the club seemed to notice.”

The vampire’s grip on them tightened, as the human knew it would, and a shiver ran down their spine. Giddy anticipation.

“I’m just saying,” the human continued, teasing. “Maybe you should prove it.”

The vampire was silent, for a beat, then they laughed. It was a shade off their normal but then they kissed the human again and it didn’t matter. A kiss like that felt like immortality. It felt good to be wanted - wanted by something powerful, and old, and should have been deadly. It made them feel a god.

The human’s breath caught again, as the vampire moved them, blindingly fast. One minute they were pinned up against the alley wall, the next day they were by the car.

The vampire smiled at them, all sharp fangs. “Get in then.”

The human did their best to bite back a grin, already imagining the night to come. Last time the vampire hadn’t let them get out of bed all weekend. They hadn’t even known their sometimes lover owned cuffs, and hadn’t that been a fun revelation. The human pretended to consider, trailing their fingers along the vampire’s arm. “I don’t know,” they said. “That guy back in the bar really was very handsome. Quick with his tongue-oof.” They were in the car, the door was shut, the driver’s door slammed shut and the human was cackling.

They settled back for the ride, fiddling with the radio to find the most obnoxious pop song they could find, sneaking glances at the vampire every so often. Imagining the feeling of their mouth, their hands, their teeth to come. Being bitten always came with its own sort of high.

They didn’t notice when the vampire missed the usual turning.

They noticed when the city lights began to grow less frequent, country side rushing up to meet them, and the vampire kept driving.

The human’s brow furrowed and they straightened from their slump. “Hey. Wait. What -” the vampire wasn’t looking at them. “Turn around.”

The vampire ignored them.

“This isn’t funny. Where are we going?”

“Somewhere that really very handsome guy back at the bar won’t find you.”

The human laughed, but it was a nervous sort of thing now. Uneasy. Was this some kind of game? Surprise get always were one thing, but they weren’t normally in the middle of an existing night out. “Right.” Had they...? “You know I was kidding, right? You’re the one I want to come home to. You don’t need to be jealous. It’s just a bit of fun.”

“I know,” the vampire said. “So we’re going to have some fun.”

They talked the same way as they did when they dragged the human into the usual hotel room, all but ripping off their clothes. Nothing in their tone or expression had changed, but...

The human’s heart hammered.

The scenery blurred past the window that they were driving so fast.

“You’re scaring me, just a little bit.”

“Just a little bit? I’m a vampire. I’m your natural predator.”

“Well, yeah, I guess, but.” Were they being paranoid? They didn’t think they were being paranoid. Any urge to laugh had turned cold. “Look.” Their voice hardened. “Turn the car around right now. I don’t mean fun rollercoaster scary, I mean-”

“You mean,” the vampire said. “That you thought you could get your kicks over having a supernatural lover who could pick you up with one hand, who you could wind up mad with jealousy because it’s hot, who could have all of the power in the world over you...but not ever be in any real danger.”

Yes.

The vampire was still smiling.

This was serious, this was actually happening. Fuck.

Could they throw themselves out of the car? No. The vampire could move faster than they could, even if they made it to run they’d be outstripped in seconds. They could scream for help and then - then what? There were some cars on the road, but they weren’t counting on someone immune to glamour and capable of fighting a...very powerful, very ancient thing.

Bloody hell. Okay. Could they send a text? They slipped their hand in their pocket and came up empty.

They looked at the vampire.

The vampire held the human’s phone up in one hand, and tossed them a roguish sort of wink as if that was still a game. A clever trick.

The human swallowed, hard, mouth sandpaper dry.

The vampire threw the human’s phone out of the car window.

“Okay, you better replace that. That cost a fortune!” Even the indignation came out faint, a little too small, a little too scared. The vampire ignored them. “I’m sorry, alright?” the human said. “I was just teasing, I won’t do it again. I thought it was -” Well, they hadn’t thought the vampire truly minded. They’d seen the dark looks that crossed the vampire’s face sometimes, but honestly they’d thought it wasn’t real. Not in anyway that mattered. Jealousy was a game they’d played. Possession something fun, and hot, and..not this. The vampire’s name came out even smaller - a plea.

The vampire pulled off the main road then, stopped the car, and met the human’s eyes.

“I’m yours,” the human said, near tears. “You don’t need to prove it. Okay? Just - just take me home. You’ve proved your point.”

The vampire considered them, and how had they never seen that calculation before? They’d seen hunger and thought it need, thought it love.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” The human tried for a shaky smile.

The vampire reached out and drew the human into a kiss.

It didn’t feel like power anymore, it didn’t feel good to be wanted.

The vampire kissed them, and kissed them, and kissed them some more until the human’s lungs strained and they tried to pull away but they couldn’t. Their vision blurred. They couldn’t get enough air, and vampires didn’t need it.

The vampire pulled back when the human sagged in their chair, close to passing out. Their beautiful face hazed in the human’s vision, their hand cold on the human’s cheek.

“That’s funny, darling,” the vampire whispered. “Nobody in the club seemed to notice. But, don’t worry. They won’t notice when you don’t come back either.”

The human blacked out to the sound of the vampire driving once more.

#fics

whumpmyworld

Alex Rider (2020)

#alex rider #1x02

the-modern-typewriter

Could you write a nsfw thing for a villain getting information from a spy? If you feel comfortable with it at least, love your blog btw

TW: not consensual, because I can’t really think of a way that scenario is consensual, unless the spy had no idea what was happening in which case they probably wouldn’t be a very good spy

“Well, now.” The villain smiled down at the spy, tracing their fingertips down along the spy’s chest. “I think that moan was the first honest sound I’ve heard from you in all the time that I’ve known you.”

“We said we wouldn’t bring work into the bedroom.” It came out breathless.

“You leave me little choice. I’m much too fond of you to torment you in any other way to gain your secrets, and you’re much too well trained to succumb to pain. It would probably only make you spiteful. Well.” The villain tipped their head, as if considering, still looking much too immaculate given the wreck that the spy was. “At least that kind of pain.” They idly turned the toy up another level and the spy gasped out, back arching on the bed. “You know I’ll give you what you need the moment you tell me what I want to know. No one will be able to blame for you for it.”

“I’m not telling you anything!”

The villain shrugged. Despite the smile on their face, their eyes were dark. Betrayed.

The spy had pretended to care for them, to be their lover, in order to sell their most intimate of secrets. This seemed a fitting ruin, at the end of all things, after all the times the situation had been reversed.

“More fun for me then.” The villain leaned down, teeth and lips hot against the spy’s throat - knowing all the best ways to throw their guard down, to reduce the spy to putty. To take advantage. “I don’t have anywhere else to be.”

They waited until the spy was babbling, waited until they were begging, promising anything and everything let alone the information the villain wanted to know.

Who sent you?

Why did they send you?

Was seducing me their idea or yours?

In the end, the spy had no masks left to them, that clever duplicitous brain reduced to want and need. They were lovely. Twisting, gasping, flushed. Unable to hide anything.

“That’s all,” the spy said. “That’s all I know, I swear!”

“I believe you.” The villain rewarded them with a gentle kiss to their lips. Then, they got off the bed, and turned the toy up yet another level.

“W-wait. Where are you going?” The spy writhed. “You said-” they couldn’t finish the sentence.

“You wanted so badly for me to keep you, to bring you close.” The villain shrugged their jacket on. “Congratulations. You succeeded.” They stopped to look back at the spy, at their pleasure glazed eyes and trembling body. “You didn’t really think I would give you back after that, did you?”

The spy bit down hard on their lip, wide-eyed, like that was exactly what they had expected.

The villain laughed, softly. “Oh,” they said. “Sweetheart.”

It was the same endearment the spy had used with them, for so long, for years. It may have been a life time that they were together.

The villain locked the door on the way out.

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