a hero/villain hub

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inbox rules — my inbox is always open, please use it to ask for requests and/or continuations, and not the comments or tags of the post. please no nsfw requests. if you’re requesting something, characters will always be gender neutral unless specified.

regarding nsfw — i don’t write explicit nsfw under any circumstances on this blog (stop sending me them please and thank you). however, that doesn’t exclude the mention or implication of it. any content that’s sexual will always remain “behind the scenes”, so to speak. characters will talk about, and characters will mention it, but if any nsfw occurs, i will always keep it off the page.

other blogs — my whump blog is @/avvail-whumps where you can find more whump. my side blog is @/avvail-undercover where all my reblogs are. reblogs are separate for navigation reasons.

@avvail-tales for new whump series!

HERO & VILLAIN HUB

requests masterlist #1

prompts masterlist #1

snippets masterlist #1

bad things happen bingo

OTHER STUFF

“Fuck you.”

“You did good.”

The villain’s sidekick feels a hitch in their breath. Their head snaps up, like they weren’t even sure they heard the words correctly. Their eyes glimmer with something akin to shock and hesitance.

“I...I did?” They squeak.

The villain pretends to shuffle through a file, eyes glued to the words but not really reading them.

“You deaf?” the villain scoffs. “Hurry up and get out of my office.”

The sidekick blanches, scrambling to bow their head. As they turn to leave, the villain lifts their gaze, watching them close the door behind them with a giddy, elated little grin on their face.

“I know you can do good,” the hero’s sidekick gently assured, their voice laced full of gentle encouragement. They playfully nudge the villain’s sidekick’s shoulder, their eyes gleaming with care. With hope. “I’ve seen the way you try and help people. I know you’re capable of it”

The villain’s sidekick barely managed a tight smile across their miserable face, glancing at them fondly. “Collateral damage is more your thing, after all.”

They laugh, their head tilting as they placed a gentle hand on their shoulder. “I know you can do it. You’re my best friend, and I care a lot about you.”

The villain’s sidekick’s smile slowly fades, and a melancholy look gradually fades back into their face. They turn away, their shoulders heaving with a sigh. “I’m sorry.”

“Hey, it’s okay,” they assure. “You don’t have to apologise.”

The hero only knew something was wrong halfway through the fight.

They’d kept up with the supervillain’s unpredictable fighting style, dodging and twisting and countering when they needed to. They had trained to adapt; this was no different. The file on the supervillain was a constant reminder in the back of their mind.

But the hero, just a little too late, realised something was wrong.

The scratch marks on the flesh of their arm stung, the muscles twitching occasionally. It might not have meant anything if they weren’t starting to lose feelings, a tingling, odd numbness weighing them down. Each new dodge became sluggish, a hairs breath away from another slash. Their knees wobbled every time they tried to right themselves.

The hero blinked through spots in their vision. There was even an uncomfortably clammy sweat building up at the base of their neck, tingling through to their fingers.

“Something wrong?”

The supervillain’s voice lilted with a twinge of knowing smugness, and the hero grit their teeth. If they could think of a witty remark, it’d be firing off the end of their tongue like a snake. But they couldn’t. Not only was their tongue too thick, but their mind was fogging over. The supervillain wasn’t even attacking, now. They just stood there, head tilted, mischievous glint in their eye.

do you have many to do already?

“This is usually the other way around,” the detective hums, one hand in his pocket and the other tapping away the ash at the end of his cigarette. The superhero stands on the rooftop, spine stiff and his expression one of anxiousness.

The detective can practically smell his uneasiness in the air. He’s hiding in the shadows, almost as though he’s too frightened to come out.

It makes him scoff.

“If you need my help on a case, I’m balls deep in the copycat killer case right now,” the detective told him firmly, already building a strong wall to the hero’s protests. Not that he’s making any. “So stop lurking in the shadows like you’re gonna bite my heart out. Jesus, it’s creepy.”

The superhero hesitates, and then steps out of the shadows. He looks worse for wear, and the detective’s eyes roll up and down his form with a clear air of judgement.

“Man,” he hums. “You look like shit.”

The superhero frowns at the cloud of smoke tumbling from his lips, his nose wrinkling in grim annoyance. “Can you put that out?”

“It’s a free country.”

“It stinks,” he snaps.

“Not my nose, not my problem,” the detective raises a brow. “What’s got your panties in a bunch? You’re gloomy.”

The superhero bites his tongue, deciding not to bite. He swallows the insult, his stiff shoulders sagging with a small sigh. The detective steals a few scrutinizing glances at him. Just to observe.

“I need...” He sighs sharply. “I need to feed.”

The detective’s gaze hardens. He already knows what he’s going to ask. “No.”

“Please?”

“I said you keep that shit away from me and I won’t hurl your ass in the nearest prison cell for taking a bite out of those innocent folk,” he reminded him sternly, a flicker of anger sparking in his eyes. “Don’t make me go back on it.”

“I’ve not been feeding,” the superhero whispers urgently. “I can’t. You know I’m new to this and I don’t know what to—”

“The answer is no. Jesus, I can’t believe you dragged me from my work for this.”

The superhero’s gaze softens. He looks crestfallen. “Please...”

The detective swallows back the words teetering on his tongue, drilling an intense gaze into the hero. He notices the eye bags, the pale complexion, and he definitely looks worse for wear. Sickly; the detective’s expression hardens, spitting out a sharp curse. He runs a hand through his hair, stamping the cigarette out under his boot. The orange tip fades into the rain soaked cement.

Why him? He almost wants to ask. He’s a detective, and he should figure this stuff out. He remembers when he pulled the superhero from the wreckage those few months ago, the bad shape he had been in.

This vampire stuff had really knocked him down. The detective hadn’t seen that old confidence in months.

He groans. He should say no. Instead, he rolls up his sleeve.

“Make it quick,” he growls. The superhero’s eyes brighten, and he takes a hesitant step forward.

He goes to grasp at the man’s arm, hesitating just before their skin touches. He notes the way his throat bobs, and then those eyes dart nervously to his neck. The detective knows the question before he even asks.

“Your neck, can I—”

“No,” he snaps, jerking his arm to redirect his faltering attention. “You’re already on thin ice. It’s this, or it’s nothing. Take your pick.”

The superhero’s lips press into a thin line. Then, he nods tersely, and flounders around him for a moment.

“You should sit,” he urges. “You’ll probably get dizzy, and—”

A sharp glare cuts him off. He gets the command. Shut up and hurry up.

The superhero takes a deep breath, thumb prodding the smooth surface of the detective’s flesh for a moment. He seems to simply admire the rush of blood underneath, before he pierces the flesh with his fangs. The detective holds back an instinctive hiss of pain, the sharp pricks almost zapping right up his spine. The superhero might have stopped to make sure he was okay before feeding, but he’d been starved for so long, that he lapped at the beads of blood straight away.

It’s an odd feeling; not unpleasant, but not easy to ignore.

The detective’s jaw clenches, and when the superhero is done, he hides the wound.

“So we’re skipping the niceties now?” The hero hums under her breath, a terseness to her jaw as she’s spun around once more. The music swells dramatically for the climax of the song, meeting the villain’s eyes through the slits of the mask.

“Whatever do you mean?” She purrs, arm purposely closed around her waist so they’re dancing impossibly close to one another.

Masquerade or not, the hero recognises the villain. And in turn, she knows the villain recognises her.

“Let’s not beat around the bush,” she frowns. “You know who I am. Why are you here?”

The villain laughs. It’s almost as entrancing as the music itself, the swell of strings concocting jaunty chords. Her perfume feels almost suffocating, hand in hers and legs dancing smoothly around each other. Everyone else seems like a blur, only focused on the woman in front of her.

“How was I supposed to know you loved me?”

The villain raised an arched brow at them in disbelief. “It was obvious.”

“You threw me off a fifteen story building the other week alone.”

“It must be suffocating,” the villain hummed, a fine whisper on their tongue and their fingers dancing a waltz through their hair. Soft strands curled around their finger, an absentminded and thoughtless movement.

They leaned down to kiss their temple, a chaste little thing that barely stirred the hero awake. Tucked against them as though they were lovers, as though this wasn’t a dangerously deceptive painting of their relationship.

It’s been a long time and I can’t promise I can return to this blog anytime soon. With my exams finished, I am making my change to University and moving out - finance is a struggle and I am doing everything I can to help myself out as living will be extremely difficult.

I have set up a Ko-fi page here!

This is merely a suggestion and not a requirement - any kind of tip or donation would mean the world to me and really help me out in the long run.

I have also opened commissions! I may not be active on this blog, but if you would like to commission a piece, hero/villain, any whump pieces, or else wise (SFW and NSFW), then you are more than welcome to. It would mean a lot to me and help out so much, as well as keep my writing going!