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the-modern-typewriter · 1 year

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Hey there! Do you mind writing a snippet about a captured hero in a I-have-you-now-my-pretty situation by a dominating seductive villain? And can you make it very dark please? Thank you so much and I absolutely love your writing!

"There now, isn't this much better?" the villain murmured, stroking their fingers through the hero's damp hair. "You're so pretty beneath all the grime and the blood."

"I prefer the grime and the blood."

"I might also prefer you nice and quiet. Consider that."

"Oh," the hero's eyes darkened, "no doubt. What's more attractive than your prey being forced docile, unable to fight back?"

The villain raised a brow, in the reflection of the mirror. "You. Trying to fight me. Failing."

The hero felt bile claw up their throat at that. They resisted the urge to swallow, to tense; it wouldn't do them any good, and it would probably only serve to delight the creep.

The villain seemed to catch it anyway, because they smiled.

"I do like your spirit," the villain mused. They continued to stroke through the hero's hair, carefully and diligently untangling every knots and snarl. "You're beautiful when you're angry. Defiant. You get this fiery, helpless look in your eyes. The blush is also very becoming. So, you see...it wouldn't be half as fun if you didn't try to fight back."

The hero studied them, trying to decide if that was reverse psychology. They might have preferred it if it was reverse psychology.

The villain laughed, softly, at whatever expression they saw on the hero's face.

The hero jerked their head away. It felt good for all of three seconds before the villain reeled them back in with a much harder yank, making the hero's breath catch. They pulled the hero's head back against the chair, baring their throat.

Perhaps as punishment for moving, or perhaps simply because they could, the villain leaned down over their shoulder to press a kiss to the hero's throat. It looked positively vampiric in the glass. The hero half expected teeth. They hated that they shivered. They hated that they couldn't look away, in the spirit of car crashes, natural disasters and other terrible fascinating things.

The villain's smile edged a fraction sharper, a fraction smugger. They held the hero's eyes as they trailed more kisses along the hero's neck, across their racing pulse, until the hero was taut.

"Go on," the villain whispered. "Tell me not to touch you again. Dealer's choice on if you try a threat, command or plea."

"I think I might prefer me nice and quiet."

"Mm." The villain straightened. They turned their attention to the hero's appearance again, considering. "I knew you liked me too."

"That's not - I don't -"

The villain's smile turned positively wolfish.

The hero snarled; too frustrated for words, too...well. Too many things. Frustrated was the best pick. Better than fear, sinking and entirely too helpless.

The annoying thing was that it did feel better to be clean, with their wounds tended. It simply didn't feel better to have had the villain force them into a bath and out of their own clothes. It was like having their identity, their resistance, scrubbed away alongside the dirt. Dressed in the villain's clothes, with the villain's scent clinging to their skin, it was impossible to forget where they were for even a moment.

It was impossible to forget who the villain thought they belonged to.

There were times when the villain could be charming, seductive. When they first met the hero had even been flattered. The problem was that, after the seduction and shiny polish of it all had worn off, it was perfectly obvious that the villain didn't actually care if the hero was seduced or not. It was a preference - not a requirement. The villain would do as they pleased regardless.

Hopefully, the hero's friends would get there soon.

(They had to get there soon, right?)

"So pretty," the villain murmured once more. "And all mine. Let's go show you off, shall we?"

"I'm not yours." The hero had to say it. Even when they knew it was a trap, even when their voice came out hoarse, they had to say.

The villain laughed again, and swivelled the chair around so that they were facing each other. They smoothed their hands down the hero's trembling thighs. Then, their expression turned cold, as absolute as an old black-and-white fairytale, as unstoppable a death. They leaned in.

"Oh, darling. By the time I'm done with you tonight, you will be."

#heroes and villains #villains and heroes #villains #heroes #writing #story #story snippet #writing snippet #creepy villain #creative writing #fic #ficlet #captured hero

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automeris-io-moth · 7 months

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Hostage situation

“I’ve been thinking about what you said the other day,” Hero murmured, clacking the silver spoon at the edge of the table, their eyes fixed still on the full plate before them.

“Eat, Hero.”

Their eyebrows furrowed in response, face twisting into a scowl. Hero lifted their head, looking to meet the others' eyes, thinking that, perhaps, they were just as unsure to face truthfully the other as they were.

Villain was not. Brown eyes which shined yellow under the warm light of the room faced them, straight and unwavering.

Hero averted theirs once again.

“You don’t care for what I have to say?”

“Not particularly,” Villain answered, “but if it means a lot to you, go right ahead.”

Hero swallowed

“I’ll take your deal,” they answered,quickly, as fast as they could to disguise the trembling of their voice. “I’ll support your case, I’ll make sure it gets to Superhero, to the President and the Ministry of Security, I’ll get Sidekick back to you.”

Swirling their wine on the cup, white to make good pair with the salmon, Villain nodded, solemnly and slowly, almost doubtfully, and yet the mere hint of a positive answer made Hero’s heart pound inside their chest. Not yet relief but the dread that came right before it.

“Oh Hero,” Villain answered, the tone of pity melting with their words “but you’ve already done that, my sidekick’s being transported to me right now. A hostage exchange if you may.”

The chain on their ankle rattled as they threw themselves back on the chair, blood pumping inside their ears.

“Are you letting me go? Am I going back with Superhero?!”

A moment of silence was followed by a deep, hoarse laugh, rumbling across the room and shaking if ever so slightly the silverware and glasses.

“Of course not sweet, sweet, dumb thing,” they answered “you’re staying right here with me, with us.”

Hero’s heart felt like falling from a thousand floors. And a deep, unescapable sentiment of despair felt like a cold sweat inducing fever dream.

“No!” Hero wailed, “No, no, no. You said that if, that when you, when Sidekick came back to you you would let me go, you promised! I told you I would take the deal.”

“You were too late, pet, you took too long, I want to keep you now.”

Masterlist

I'm very hopefully back, still working on my motivation to keep writing but making a good effort I promise.

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berrydoodleoo · 11 months

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i am the emissary and i shall never die

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n4rval · 5 months

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the stalker

#artwork #freakbullet followed me i was morally compelled to sit and actually make art of him #but yk brain empty = silly comic #since he so nicely decided to pay me a visit i now know exactly how to capture his features #wingdings is a creep nothing will convince me otherwise #but yk in a mad scientist kind of way #actually a nice old man whos interested in your ocs #thank you for supporting my insanity dings #undertale #gaster #wd gaster #real depiction of my creative process #deltarune #wingdings and me

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sachi · 3 months

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☆ "Fushigi no Kuni no Alice" // Akakura ☆ Union Creative International Ltd. ☆ October 2024 ¥27,500 ☆ Sculpt Higata Naruyo Paint Kimura Cooperation En craft

#alice in wonderland #akakura #union creative #higata naruyo #kimura #en craft #i LOVE akakura and i love how the paint really captures their coloring style. so pretty

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katartna · 1 year

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My Pokemon Scarlet team in gijinka forms!

#Despite the bugs I’ve been enjoying this game a lot!#I'm very attached to my team and imagine them as a jrpg party #designing pokemon gijinkas is a very fun creative exercise #rough sketches that I might clean up later #Tinkaton is an instant fav pokemon because I'm predictable #cute pink bean who down-smashes with giant bonk hammer #My cetitan is relaxed natured and mischievous so I just imagine her to be the fun team mom who can absolutely wreck havoc with her strength #Glimmora in my head is a floaty goth wizard who's chill and can shoot laser beams or can just throw rocks and call it magic lol #Armarouge is edgy but she owns it #Kilowattrel has taken many for the team just to capture pokemon thanks to her thunder wave #The meowscarada I have is apparently impish and often lost in thought so I see that as he causes problems and doesn't fix them #he's a twink bastard #pokemon scarlet #gijinka #pokemon gijinka #meowscarada #tinkaton #armarouge #kilowattrel #cetitan #glimmora #pokemon #meowscarada gijinka #tinkaton gijinka #armarouge gijinka #kilowattrel gijinka #cetitan gijinka #glimmora gijinka #artists on tumblr #art

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somethingmissingthiswaycomes · 1 year

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There's some special quality to stories made for a child audience by people who are also clearly making it for themselves that other types of media I think just don't get very much. Not that children's shows are like... "better" than adult oriented film, but I get something very different from Steven Universe, Gravity Falls, and Miraculous Ladybug than from, say, Bojack Horseman, Star Trek TNG, or Everything, Everywhere, All At Once.

Something about the serious topics being contextualized with lightheartedness and darkness being less explicit. Something about the story empathizing with childhood and showing the world from the pov of not yet being intertwined with expectations of adulthood—and when it is, it's inherently an injustice. Something about admiring the lessons you know kids are being taught from it and feeling good about their future. Something about it helping sometimes to process your own childhood in retrospect.

Though I'd like to make sure I note here that I'm not doing the whole "kids media is better than adults media" thing. I think it's weird when people do that. I just feel something special about this context of storytelling.

Yeah...

I'd maybe like to write a children's book someday.

#children's media #steven universe #Miraculous ladybug #Gravity falls #I won't tag the other shows since they're not the topic #But you know. Everything everywhere all at once did manage to capture a lot of what I mostly find in children's media that appeals to me #The hopefulness and the silliness and the absurd creativity #I'm very tired and rambling lol #Storytelling

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apollos-boyfriend · 8 months

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fucking HUGE shoutout to the admins for all this, but also rip to them because this really just demonstrates how there is NOTHING they can do to win against etoiles in combat. they can throw everything they have at him and he will not be downed. this is a herculean task at best and a sisyphean battle at worst

#icarus speaks #icarus liveblogs #they’re gonna have to literally get creative if they ever want to capture him 😭#he’s just too strong!!

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pamelaaminou · 7 months

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Capturing Limitless Creativity Through the Lens

In the world of photography, creativity knows no bounds. It’s a realm where imagination takes flight, and the possibilities are as vast as the universe itself. Photography has come a long way since its inception. Gone are the days when adhering to traditional rules and norms was the only way to create compelling images. Today, photographers are free to break from these constraints, venturing…

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wyrmswears · 1 month

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"Generator"; 1569 words.

The Administrator has something to show Agent Walker.

...

Sure, he knew it wasn’t the first time he had been called to a one-on-one meeting with The Administrator, but it may as well have been. It wasn’t like he remembered any of their previous interactions; he was going in blind all the same.

When his fax machine first spat out the offending paper, he believed it had been sent to the wrong agent. But there was his name at the top, ‘Agent Walker’. There was the possibility that someone else shared his surname, but as far as he was aware he was the only agent without a first name.

The listed meeting room wasn’t her office, nor was it one of the Administration’s more conventional meeting rooms, complete with tables 30 people long but only one person wide and more fake potted plants than you could ever imagine. No, today he had been called down to the lowest floor of the Administration: the server room. The part of his brain that understood technology bristled at that; it would be much more effective to place the server room on a higher floor. Nonetheless, he wouldn’t say anything about that to The Administrator when he faced her - he would stick to his department, as all good employees did. The networks and communications department could handle that one.

The elevator down required two separate keycards: one was his standard agent ID, and the other digitally recognised him as a department manager. The former granted him permission to move between floors, yes, but only the latter allowed him access to the basement.

The ride down took 2 minutes and 43 seconds. He counted. No one else entered the elevator the entire journey.

When the elevator reached the basement and the doors slid open, The Administrator was standing on the other side of them. He hoped he would forget this meeting like the others, if just so he could become ignorant to the way he jumped at her sudden appearance.

“Agent Walker.”

He swallowed the lump in his throat. “Administrator, ma’am.”

She smiled. This did nothing to soothe his racing heart. “Come, let’s talk.” She beckoned and he followed her into the dark room.

It was large, but so were most rooms in the Administration. The realm reassignment department was tiny relative to the office rooms that the majority of their employees were stationed in. This room was about half the size of block 8E sub-block 185A A3/11√5. He could see three of the walls, dark stretches of concrete, sealing them in. The fourth that should’ve sat opposite to the elevator was obscured by rows upon rows upon rows of computer servers. A blue glow emanated from them and he grimaced at the thought of the voltage it would take to create a light that strong.

As he struggled to keep pace, The Administrator barely spared him a glance. “This may seem beyond your department, but trust me, your role will become clear soon.” She forewarned. She would never have him leave his department, he knew. That was the first rule of the Administration: Stay in your place. “What do you know of Lord Ras of the Wyldness?”

Lord Ras. He had heard that name. Some of the employees that hailed from Imperium had mentioned it in conversations coated with nothing short of hatred. The ‘outlander’ who had gained a position of such power in their otherwise closed society. That sort of talk only ever continued for a couple days before their new job turned their interest towards paperwork and mild office drama.

“Isn’t he the one trying to awaken ancient evils without a permit?”

The Administrator shot him a look, slow and venomous. “He is”, she nodded, “but that’s not important to us right now.” She walked towards him. He averted his gaze to the floor with stiffened shoulders but found that she only continued past him, down the alley of servers. She didn’t need to beckon him this time, he knew what he was meant to do. He followed.

There was little light between the pillars of computers. They were only between two rows of the many, but what he could see was endless. The towers sparked a theory in his mind about why she was mentioning the rogue lord. “We use a lot of power.” He started, testing the waters. The Administrator stopped walking and turned to face him, her silence commanding him to finish his speculation. “Lord Ras allied with Imperium by promising them power; do we need to ally with him too? To have enough power?”

The Administrator smiled and shook her head. Count two for smiles, and a contradiction - she must have expected him to guess wrong. “You’re right that we do plan to ally with him, but it is not out of need for power. We have all the power we could need.” She turned again and continued to weave her way through the computerised nest which was now composed of more than just server towers. Thick cables ran both overhead and underfoot, LEDs glowed from no visible circuitry, and the drone of electric humming and cooling fans only ever got louder the further they went.

Finally, they breached the sea of servers.

Now that he could see the wall they had been trekking towards all this time, he realised that it wasn’t made out of concrete the same as the other three walls. No, this one was glass. Despite this, nothing was visible from the other side. There was no depth at all, only pure light glowing an almost-white with its brightness (though when Walker inspected the way it lit up its surroundings, he realised it to be tinted pale blue).

In front of the glass wall, the cables reached their largest size before slipping underneath panels in the floor. The servers did not get within 10 metres of the wall. Instead, they stood guard in their rows, watching the tiny humans approach the divine light.

The Administrator hummed, snapping Walker’s attention back to her. She gestured towards the glass. “This is our power source. You can look, if you would like.”

He didn’t know if that was a good idea. Just looking at the glass from this distance was already beginning to hurt his eyes. Nonetheless, unsure if it was because The Administrator had told him to or because he chose to, he stepped forwards.

As he approached, he could feel the electricity in the air. It combed through his hair and bounced around a pit in his chest, dangerously close to the one that ached whenever he thought about the family he might’ve once had, before he forgot everything. He didn’t realise he was shaking with a strange sense of excitement until he was close enough to touch the glass and found himself unable to hold his hand still. He almost did touch the glass, but held back just before his fingers made contact. He still couldn’t see anything on the other side. Pale blue swallowed his vision.

He looked over his shoulder to The Administrator. She raised an eyebrow and jerked her head towards the glass again. He turned back. A bright light stared back at him.

He didn’t scream. This was unusual - Walker knew he was cowardly and anxious and that in any other scenario he would’ve jumped or fallen back or swung a punch - but something was different this time.

If anything, he stood closer than he did originally, watching the sparking lights with complete fascination. His breath fogged the glass.

“What is it?” He asked after what could’ve been anything between a second and a day, even though he couldn’t hear what he was saying over the pounding of his own heart.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” The Administrator was at his side now. When had she moved? “It’s lightning.”

Like realising one’s hunger upon taking a bite of food, the word sparked an ache in the back of his head. “Lightning…” He knew what that was, of course, as well as where it came from. They must have captured it live from a storm. He had never seen a storm before, but he had heard anecdotes of them from newly recruited employees and field agents alike. He was jealous. Did all lightning look like this? Freckles and curls?

She watched as he pressed a hand to the glass. The lightning responded in kind, pressing the palm of its hand opposite to his. “We could let it go of course, but it would run away. Far from here.”

Far from here… No. They couldn’t let it free. Now that he had seen it, felt it, he knew he couldn’t bear to part with it. They had to keep it contained. He told The Administrator such.

She nodded and smiled again. “I knew you’d understand.”

He dropped his gaze to study the hand that would’ve held his if it could.

It was almost the same pale blue that shone through the rest of the glass, but somehow brighter. The similarity in colours made it hard to tell the form of the figure apart from its glow, but blue and yellow markings fanned out across its form like the branches of a pine tree. Lichtenberg figures, his mind supplied.

He looked up at its face, admiring its curls and running a hand through his own. He wondered if he’d at all resemble the figure before him if he looked in a mirror.

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the-broken-pen · 5 months

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The hero woke up with a start, tears streaming down their face as their book went flying. They rubbed their palms against their cheeks angrily, but it did nothing to stop the flow.

Across the room, the villain coughed.

The Hero’s gaze snapped to them, and they regarded the hero calmly.

“Bad dream?”

The hero looked away, embarrassment coloring their cheeks.

“No.”

The villain sighed.

“Good dream, then?”

The hero said nothing, and the villain nodded in understanding.

“I see. Would you like to tell me about it?”

They studied every inch of their room, the silence fidgeting between them like an anxious child, before the words fought their way out.

“I—we, saved the world.”

The villain hummed. “Ah.”

The hero sniffed and tugged the blankets higher on their lap. The book lay forgotten on the floor.

“I can understand the tears, then,” they said sympathetically. The hero let out an unamused laugh.

“No, you can’t.”

“Just because I do not empathize does not mean I cannot understand,” the villain tipped their head. “You have many regrets. That much is clear. It is written upon every move you make. So do not preach understanding, Hero, when I know how you work.”

The hero stiffened.

“I hate you.”

“You hate yourself more,” the villain said conversationally, and the hero’s chest welled with pain.

The silence roiled.

“Yes,” they agreed quietly. “I do.”

The villain tapped their hand once against the door frame.

“I’ll leave you to your dreaming, then, Hero.”

Hero.

Nothing more than a bit of mockery, now.

Their eyes met, the villain’s gaze burning into them, before they turned from the door of the hero’s cell.

They paused. “You cannot change the past, fallen one,” they said softly. And then they were gone.

The hero lay back, and closed their eyes.

Maybe if they tried hard enough, they could bring their dreams into reality. Maybe they could save everyone—could be the hero everyone had worshiped them as. Could rewrite the ending and bring their friends back to life. Could make it so they ended up in a pedestal and not in a cage. So many maybes. The hero dreamed of all of them, constantly. It never really made a difference.

In their cell designed by the villain who had beaten them irrevocably, the hero fell asleep, and outside, the world burned.

Unsaved.

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robo-dino-puppy · 5 months

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horizon forbidden west | aloy 97/?

#horizon forbidden west #hfw #aloy #this is from way back in my captures folder #it's one of the tenakth structures around the stand of the sentinels tallneck #i got up here prior to the jump glitch but i'm pretty sure i didn't glide down from my sunwing #i remember exploring the whole area and trying to climb things lol #so it was probably just some creative jumping #hfw aloy #btw if anyone wondered i'm not dead i just ran out of queue and we had a power outage last night/this morning :D #and i just got back to internet

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potionio · 5 months

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Prove to me I'm not gonna die alone Put your arm 'round my collarbone

Actually obsessed w the statue fr.

#ch; hannah sheperd #AMLB #ts4 simblr #ts4 mm #ts4mm #ts4simblr #ts4 edit #ts4 screenshot edit #this is me desperately trying to figure out how to captured the vibes i want for this fucking concept #and failing : )#this fed my creative need for a while tho

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automeris-io-moth · 1 year

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But what if they offer and I don’t want to say no?

Villain was alone.

Villain was alone, yet, that did not justify them.

To trap another.

They touched Hero's skin as carefully as one would cradle a child, afraid of bringing harm, careful, adoring.

Soft as their hands trailed through their hair, playing with the strands, braiding it, brushing it, adorning it with any ornament they considered beautiful enough to be twisted or pin on their head.

Soft their voice was too when they spoke, when they read to the other, when they told them words of comfort, of encouragement, when they told them words of love.

Their gaze was soft too, always kind, always gleaming when their eyes met in the middle of a room, when they stayed fixed on the other's stare and both gave each other a playful smile.

Hero was alone too.

Hero was alone and, perhaps, that did justify them.

To allow themselves to be captured

Villain was so very good at tenderness Hero felt like crying with every kindness they offered on a silverplate

And perhaps, for a moment, they could pretend they had met at a party, at a café, perhaps in the park one day walking their dogs.

Pretend their first date had been in an italian restaurant, a sushi one perhaps, somewhere pretty with candles illuminating each other's faces. Pretend blood had never been caused by the other's hand, pretend they had never seen each other injured more than by a small cut of a knife cooking, the cut of a paper as they read a book.

Hero could fool themselves, that had been part of their life since birth, lies and façades, play pretend and simulate a life they would never have, but everyone expected of them.

They were beautiful, graceful, skilled. They would make a fine spouse someday to someone greater, someone with more power, they were easy on the eyes, obedient, trained to not be a burden.

“Can you cut my hair?”

Comfortable was the silence broken, and their shoulders tensed for ruining the moment for such a stupid request.

But Villain allowed it, helping them cut the back, but letting Hero do all the rest, to butcher it as they wanted.

Villain allowed many things others would not, their parents, their organisation, their ex partners, and, after a while, Hero felt more free trapped beside them than they ever did away.

“I’m not proud of myself,” they said once at the dinner table, earning a confused glance from their companion “I’ve been letting desire cloud my judgement lately.”

Villain lifted a brow.

“And is that worth shame?”

“I’ve been told it is,” Hero answered, raising their eyes.

“And what is this desire you speak about?”

“For life not to hurt.”

The clink of the cutlery echoed through the room, an interested stare looking right back at them, urging them to continue.

“For me to be wanted, loved, perhaps.”

“Perhaps?”

“Perhaps.”

They shook their head “But none of that is something I’m supposed to want.”

“But that’s not relevant, is it?” Villain answered “We established that, in this situation, I could do anything with you and there would be little you could do against it.”

Villain took a bite of their food.

“Perhaps what I want it’s to fulfil your desire,” they said “so one day you can forget it brings you shame.”

Hero never looked for a way out after that.

Masterlist

This is gonna be by far my hardest semester at uni so far, works may not be as frequent :(

#hero x villain #villains and heroes #villain x hero #hero/villain #villain/hero #captured hero #my writing #creative writing #short story #writing wip #heroes and villains #hero #writing snippet #heroes and villains community #hero and villain #villain and hero

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