Hello! I'd love to read your take on a villain that tries to seduce the hero, but the hero is asexual and/or aromantic
"Everyone in the world." The villain braced one hand against the wall, deceptively casual, blocking the hero in. "Wants something." The finger of their other hand trailed down along the front of the hero's chest, oh so light. "I would like you," they wet their lips, considering their word choice, "to look the other way. Just every so often." The villain tilted their head, eyes bright and intent and gorgeous.
The hero didn't move, studying them. "I'm sure that would be very convenient for you."
"I'm thinking perhaps we can come to some kind of mutually beneficial arrangement? What do you think?"
The villain really did have a lovely voice. Honeyed. Silky.
"Sure." The hero tilted their head, mirroring the villain's posture, their tone. "I'll look the other way." They reached up, taking the villain's hand where it lingered near the waistband of their trousers and squeezing. "If you close down your company and stop doing evil stuff that I need to keep an eye on." They leaned in, so their lips were inches apart. "Does that sound about right?"
"Now, now. Be reasonable."
The hero placed the villain's hand off their body and firmly on the wall.
The villain shifted back to accommodate, so they were facing each other, no longer touching, and raised a brow.
"Okay. Okay. How about..." the hero let their head fall back against the wall, and held up their hands in a 'wait a second' gesture. "You stop making devil's bargains with people who lose at your casinos, and I don't kill you? That seems beneficial, right?"
"Nice try, but I know you don't kill people. As stunning a murderer as you would no doubt make."
The hero snorted, despite themselves, and nearly smiled. Seduction: certainly a novel experience, when faced with someone who did it well. A sea witch would promise anything to bottle a voice like that, they really would.
The villain smiled back at them. "I've seen the way you can't keep your eyes off me."
"You are rather mesmerising."
Saying it so bluntly seemed to throw the villain off a fraction.
"Well, then," the villain said. "Perhaps you should let me mesmerise you then."
"I don't think so."
"Because I'm evil?"
The hero laughed, though they could see how that might be considered the issue. Yet. "Because I'm asexual, so as stunning as you look in that get up..."
"Oh." The villain stilled, with an expression like they were buffering. "Oh, I see. Romantic candlelit cruise, then? I cook, you know."
The hero really shouldn't have been smiling, or charmed. "Also aromantic."
The villain hummed, before spinning, and offering the hero their arm instead. "Walk with me? The panoramic balcony views are quite something."
"Quite something for pushing me to my death for being incorruptible?"
"Hero." The villain's purr was more pronounced then ever. "Nobody is incorruptible. You're still human, sorry to disappoint, and all humans want something, I already said that."
"Well, given I want you to stop being evil?"
"You should find keeping me company a great way to keep an eye on me?"
That was a...disturbingly valid point. And not how they had expected their whole revelation to go. They'd definitely expected the villain to either need an explanation or be perturbed for longer than ten seconds. The hero narrowed their eyes at the villain, but accepted their arm.
"So is this the bit where you offer me money, instead?" the hero asked, as they walked across the gala. "Power, perhaps?"
"You have plenty of power, I'd be an idiot to offer you more."
That nearly surprised another laugh out of the hero, and suddenly they couldn't help but wonder if they might actually be in trouble with liking this one. Not in the 'expected' way, of course, but...
The cool breeze washed over them both after the flush of the crowded party, clean compared to the rich headiness of perfume and cologne inside the renovated hall. The view really was spectacular. The whole city glittered out beneath the two of them; home, lovely and complicated.
"You know, you never did promise not to try and toss me off the balcony," the hero said.
"Oh, please. I forgot where I parked the car - you might wreck it on your landing. Like I'd risk that."
The hero glanced at them.
The villain winked back.
The hero bit back a smile, and a curse, quickly looking away because that was a terrible thing to say. The villain was, without question, absolutely terrible. So why did they still want to smile at it?
Want. Such a complicated word.
"So," the villain said, pausing once they were further away from the cluster near the balcony doors. "I'm going to make a leap and say you want to help people. At least, I'm going to leap and say that's the desire you are most willing to admit to."
"Great leap," the hero returned. "I make such a secret of that."
The villain smiled at them again, and the hero honestly couldn't tell if it was genuine or not.
"I could help you do that more effectively."
"Sounds like one of your devil's bargains. Also a bit like you're desperate."
"Well, I'd rather not kill you."
"Well, I'd rather not be killed. There we go! Mutually beneficial."
"I never said I wouldn't."
"Think of your poor car."
"Not now," the villain rolled their eyes. "This is a negotiation." They turned to face the hero, and turned more serious. "Do you really want this to start being a proper fight tomorrow? What we've had so far is a game. A seduction."
"Oh, is that what you were trying to do? I didn't notice."
The villain didn't smile that time. Their voice had lost its lilt in an instant.
"Unstoppable force meets unmovable object works out fine for us, but not so well for the people around us."
"That a threat?" The hero's shoulders squared.
"It's a fact. We are going to collide. Do you think you can kill me?"
The hero said nothing.
"I'm not sure I can kill you," the villain said, and it was the hero's turn to jolt in surprise at the candidness. "You're remarkable. That means even if we avoid deliberate collateral, there is going to be collateral, because that's what happens when powerful things crash into each other. Now I don't really care about collateral, to be perfectly honest with you, but it's also not especially something I want."
The hero swallowed.
Their eyes met.
The villain leaned in, tracing a finger down the hero's chest, this time stopping on the wild, sick way that the hero's heart pounded.
"So think about what you want," the villain said, and went back to flashing that charming smile. "And call me, darling."
By a long shot, the most entertaining thing I've seen in my college town was a crowd of drunk sorority girls crouching down and pspspsing to lure a very confused orange cat out from under a restaurant's patio deck because they believed that he'd escaped from the cat cafe up the street, and when they got the cat out and contacted the cafe, the owners were like "Hey, thanks, but we've never seen this guy before in our lives. This is just some cat"
Will graduated high school in this best shape of his life, at 18 he worked out every day and adhered to a strict diet imposed on him by his parents and coach. He had just finished celebrating his own graduation and was looking forward to attending college without having to worry about the commitment of sports, he could finally let loose and have some fun!
A month into college and Will was having a blast, his classes were going great, he had awesome friends, and even better the food was to die for! He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t spent a good amount of time at the schools all-you-can-eat buffet open 24 hours a day, socializing and eating to his hearts content. Sure he had put on a little bit of weight, but who doesn’t gain the freshman 15! As far as he was concerned, this to be expected, he could lose it and slow down anytime he wanted to, after all college is for having a good time, right?
Okay, Will could admit it, he was getting a little plump. His constant overindulgence at the buffet was beginning to show more evidently than before, and his friends were taking notice. “Sure are enjoying your food, huh bubba? Don’t worry, your a growing boy, gotta keep your strength up for sports- oh wait, nevermind…” Will would just burp as his buddy Brad patted his distended belly, “UUUURRRRPPP, shut up man, I can do what I want! College is supposed to be about doing what I want, when I want, and what I want is to get another plate from the buffet!”
Will groaned as he felt the domed curve of his bloated belly, full to bursting after his latest feast at the cafeteria. He needed to get his appetite under control, but had become accustomed to filling his belly up as often as he could. His latest diet had failed and once again, he had gorged himself with his buddies, each one of them taking turns rubbing his round tummy and discussing how their “growing boy” was coming along. They were no help in controlling the growth of his belly, in fact, they almost seemed to be enjoying him plumping up.
“Son, we’re concerned about your weight, you haven’t even been in college a year and you’re getting pretty round. We know your just trying to enjoy your freedom but we think you may have taken your indulgence too far.” Will was home for break and that was what his dad said to him after he had stuffed himself and sat rubbing his belly while playing video games. He was just trying to enjoy his spring break doing what he had learned to do best, EAT.
It was officially summer break, exams had finished and Will was done with his Freshman year of college! He was definitely living up to his unofficial nickname of the “growing boy”. He was currently recovering from the end of year rager, which for him consisted of a few different eating and drinking contests, he was thoroughly stuffed. “UUUUURRRRPPPP, damn stick me with a pin and I’ll pop! All that food was delicious but this belly of mine is full to bursting! If coach could see me now, he’d be impressed with how big I’ve gotten…” Will knew that next semester his already wobbling and plump belly would grow even bigger, with his friends egging him on towards new levels of gluttony. He was going to be very round!
“I got to read an early copy of this magnificent book by Davids Graeber and Wenfrow, and The Dawn of Everything is the revision of nearly everything that historians and anthropologists and archeologists have assumed about early human societies, economies, and more. Especially the one-size-fits-all theories about hunter-gatherers, agrarians, hierarchies, etc.–the most constant theme is that human societies are really diverse and human beings are really creative. One part that is really riveting is about the huge influence people indigenous to the new world had on the political and ethical imagination of Europeans–an influence traveling in the opposite direction of what we were usually told. (You could say that to some limited extent, Native North, South, and Central Americans civilized Europeans.) They write: If human beings, through most of our history, have moved back and forth fluidly between different social arrangements, assembling and dismantling hierarchies on a regular basis, perhaps the question we should ask is: how did we get stuck? How did we lose that political self-consciousness, once so typical of our species? How did we come to treat eminence and subservience not as temporary expedients, or even the pomp and circumstance of some kind of grand seasonal theatre, but as inescapable elements of the human condition? In truth, this flexibility, and potential for political self-consciousness, was never entirely lost. Seasonality is still with us – even if it is a pale shadow of its former self. In the Christian world, for instance, there is still the midwinter “holiday season” in which values and forms of organisation do, to a limited degree, reverse themselves: the same media and advertisers who for most of the year peddle rabid consumerist individualism suddenly start announcing that social relations are what’s really important, and that to give is better than to receive. Among societies like the Inuit or the Kwakiutl of Canada’s Northwest Coast, times of seasonal congregation were also ritual seasons, almost entirely given over to dances, rites and dramas. Sometimes, these could involve creating temporary kings or even ritual police with real coercive powers. In other cases, they involved dissolving norms of hierarchy and propriety. In the European middle ages, saints’ days alternated between solemn pageants where all the elaborate ranks and hierarchies of feudal life were made manifest, and crazy carnivals in which everyone played at “turning the world upside down”. In carnival, women might rule over men and children be put in charge of government. Servants could demand work from their masters, ancestors could return from the dead, “carnival kings” could be crowned and then dethroned, giant monuments like wicker dragons built and set on fire, or all formal ranks might even disintegrate into one or other form of bacchanalian chaos. What’s important about such festivals is that they kept the old spark of political self-consciousness alive. They allowed people to imagine that other arrangements are feasible, even for society as a whole, since it was always possible to fantasise about carnival bursting its seams and becoming the new reality. May Day came to be chosen as the date for the international workers’ holiday largely because so many British peasant revolts had historically begun on that riotous festival. Villagers who played at “turning the world upside down” would periodically decide they actually preferred the world upside down, and took measures to keep it that way. Medieval peasants often found it much easier than medieval intellectuals to imagine a society of equals. Now, perhaps, we begin to understand why. Seasonal festivals may be a pale echo of older patterns of seasonal variation – but, for the last few thousand years of human history at least, they appear to have played much the same role in fostering political self-consciousness, and as laboratories of social possibility.” Rebecca Solnit
“You think I wanted to work with you?” the antagonist spat.
“Feeling’s mutual, buddy,” the protagonist hissed back. “If we want our world to survive, we’re gonna have to.”
The antagonist put one hand on their chin. “And who’s fault is that? Which one of us opened a portal to another book?”
The protagonist shoved them. “Oh stuff it. I know you were going to turn it on a few seconds later if I didn’t do it first.”
“Oh yeah? You think me that stupid?”
Before the protagonist could reply, the antagonist slapped their hand over their mouth, both silencing the retort and quieting them. “Someone’s watching us. Get ready to- OW! Did you just bite me? How the hell did the author choose you as a protagonist over me?”
Ayo babes! Here's a continuation of Short Prompt #81! ❤✨❤✨
"W-What?!" - the hero exclaimed, flinching back in their surprise. "B-But that- that can't be true!"
The monster chuckled yet again. "O̮͊h͖͊, bu̝͒ţ̌ î̟t ̃͟i̫͌s."
Hero looked into their eyes shining through the darkness and looked for any sign of trickery. They hoped to see a glint of something, anything that would tell them that the villain was lying. But alas, they found nothing.
Still, stubbornly, the hero challenged, "P-Prove it then!"
To the chosen one's further devastation, the Dark Lord complied. "O̘͆n ̕͜the̙͆ ou̯̅t̬͠ḛ̇ŕ͚ ̗̓siḋ͕e ̢̆o̗͊f yõͅur rigḧ̟t ̘́h̳͋ä̢́n̠̑d̬͂.̻̂.. yo̰͗u̫̓ ͔͌bear t̗͋hat g̒͟od̞̈'s... ȳ̝o͚̍ȗ͈ȓ̫ g̣̊o̘͆d͖͗'͙͠s̱̽ ̦̂b̑͟r̨̎a͙̒ndḭ̛n̮̈́g.͉.., correct̨̊?"
"Y-Yes..., and? Everyone knows about that! That d-doesn't prove-"
"It ̤̅oñ̙ly͜͞ ŕ̥ea̕ͅct́͟s ̺̍tō̹ ̟̎y̧͘oú̧ŕ̦ ̘͊god̛͚'͉́s tou̳͡ch̰͝.̜̈" - Villain stated. It wasn't a question this time. They knew for a fact that was how it worked.
Hero knew it too, and as the monster moved one of their arms forward and into the light, a cold dread filled the hero's heart. The villain's hand was outstretched to them, facing palm up, awaiting Hero's own.
Even though they had asked for proof, the chosen one suddenly wasn't interested in finding the truth anymore. The idea that they had been fighting against their god... That they had imprisoned the one they were meant to avenge... It terrified them.
But at the same time... something was beckoning them to do it, a distant call that whispered in their very soul. It told them to touch the monster, even though, throughout the years, the hero had never done so. Instead, they had only ever used their powers, sending bursts of magic at the dark being. After all, the goal had always been to try and defeat them.
And so, physical contact had never been made between the two. Hero had no other way to find out if the villain was lying or not, no memory of them interacting in such a way to examine in their mind.
Surprisingly, the monster was silent. Was that part of the trick, letting the hero's mind spiral out of control so that in the end, they can only blame themself?
The hero tried to wrack their brain for a different way out. They could just say 'no' and leave, but... then what would've been the point of even coming here in the first place?
It seems as though there is no other way but forward. They had come all this way for a reason. It was too late to be having second thoughts about it all. So, hesitantly, the chosen extended their own arm forward, noting and loathing how much it was shaking from their fear.
They hovered their hand over the other's for a few seconds uncertainly, watching if the monster would initiate the contact. But the other's hand was perfectly still, their body making no sound and letting Hero make the call. And eventually, they gave in and lay their hand in the Dark Lord's palm.
Instantly, the chosen one dabbled over; what felt like electricity shooting through their entire body, tingling to their fingertips and making them go nearly limp as the villain held their hand in a firm but not painful grip.
Out of the corner of their eye, the hero could see the branding adorning their skin gave off a faint glow. It thrummed with power as Villain brought their other hand into the light and lightly traced their clawed fingers over the mark, sending an uncontrollable shiver and gasp through Hero.
The human was struggling for air for the first time in years, having never experienced such a sensation before. The beast's(?) The monster's(?) The god's(?) The being's touch felt like a heavenly cloud lulling them into tranquility, telling them to relax in their Lord's presence, but at the same time, it felt like danger. The sheer infinite power coming off them in waves spiked primal fear in the hero's soul.
And then, there was nothing. The Dark Lord mercifully released them, letting their hand fall to the ground so that they could scramble back in terror. The god's soft, amused chuckle fell upon deaf ears as Hero clutched at their chest, trembling as they locked eyes with the villain once more. The beast could've easily held them there, could've used those claws to tear open their throat or rip out their heart straight from their chest. They could've killed them.
The hero tried to talk, to let out at least a few of the many thoughts raging inside their head, but only managed to stammer meaningless strings of random words.
"I ̞̈́to̼͡l͈̽d̘͝ ̥͂y̯̎o̻̚u, d͓̓id͍͘ ̓͟I ǹ̰o̫̎t?̹̐" - Villain's voice rumbled quietly through the dark, ending the human's senseless ramble. There was a somber tone to their words that Hero was too petrified to register. "W̽͜hy ar̩̾e ̳̒yoū̬ s̐ͅõ̯ š̞ụ̓rpŗ̈́i͉̽seď̟...?"
"I-I- I- Y-You-" - the chosen one tried yet again, but their mind did not cooperate. The truth was too horrible for them to accept, even though they were the one who had sought the answer in the first place.
Unable to acknowledge the implications of this new revelation, their body at internal war, filled with conflicting emotions, the hero ran.
Clambering to their feet, they ran, ran, and ran, sprinting mindlessly through the old temple corridors until they had reached the entrance. As fresh air hit their face and filled their lungs, they collapsed to their knees atop the stone stairs, completely forgetting about the god they had just abandoned.
Their thoughts reeled, refusing to come to a conclusion. Hero's chest hurt in an odd way like something was gripping at their heart. Trying to ground themself, they focused on the feeling, attempting to decipher it and immediately regretting it.
They felt their god's sadness, having at last connected with them.
They didn't want to think about it. They didn't want to be aware of the ghostly presence of Villain's chains digging into their skin, of the disgusting musty air staining the god's lungs and forcing the hero into an ugly coughing fit.
The chosen one didn't want to feel their Lord's tears falling down their face, stinging Hero's skin, making it burn as they futilely tried to scratch the sensation away.
They didn't want to hear the sobs that left the villain's lips and echoed in their dark lonely prison as the cold metal and stone made them shiver.
They didn't want this. They didn't. It was too much. Too much. Too much.Too much.Too much.Too much-
Ok so I imagine Yautja having a "if I fit it sits" kind of thinking and that made me think of a scenario of a Yautja squeezing themselves into the passenger side of a car and their s/o just watching them struggle and being like you know you can ride in the back there's more space but they just insist on staying in the front.
You slowly blinked, nearly slack-jawed in awe, as you watched your SO bounce his crest off the side of the roof of your car. He grumbled, and pulled back again.
“…ready to give up yet?”
He clicked at you, an edge of annoyance and defiance in his tone. “I can fit.”
“No, I really don’t think you can.”
You drummed your fingers on the steering wheel as he tried to shimmy both legs into your cab without taking out your dashboard. It was already scratched to hell by his burrs. You snickered as he grip slipped off the roof of the car and he went tumbling head over heels onto the pavement.
“Oh my god,” you grinned at his flustered state and leaned across the center console as he righted himself. If he could blush he’d be bright green.
You gripped the lever release and dropped the passenger side seat as far down and back as it would go, gesturing to your companion with an amused smile. He glowered at you with only a little maliciousness.
With only a little more difficulty the towering alien compacted himself into the seat, his knees pressed up against both his chest and your dashboard. His crest was scratching the soft roof of your car.
“Happy now?” You asked, rolling your eyes at his stubbornness.
“Yes. I told you I could fit.”
“Yeah, you could have also just gotten in the back, you stubborn bastard.”
He huffed, looking borderline offended. “No.”
You raised a brow at him, unimpressed. “Big damn baby.” You muttered, and put the car in reverse.