#tw: cutting skin accidentally

[guessillcallitart]

Andra✨ (moodboard pics from pinterest)

taglist: @aloeverawrites, @your-absent-father, @aether-wasteland-s, @yesireadbooks, @desastreus, @full-on-sam, @rbbess110, @albatris, @athenswrites, @anonymousfoz (let me know if you want to be added or removed)

[bisexuel]

ever get a cut or scrape and not even really think twice abt it bc well it's not inconveniencing you and it'll be healed in a few weeks anyway. but for whatever reason your body goes hmm yeah actually let's have this dumb as fuck scar on us forever

[rainrot4me]

Ticci Toby General Headcannons

Summary: Basic, SFW, and NSFW head-cannons. My personal thoughts, feelings, and opinions about Toby as a character.

TW: NSFW below the cut, minors dni! Above the cut is sfw!

Words: 1.6k

Basic:

- Even though he is socially awkward and tense, he’s a master at people watching. Can read a room and know more details about a person within seconds of watching them interact.

- Likes his alone time.

- He would probably say Tim and Brian are his closest friends, the same can’t be said about Masky and Hoodie, however.

- A pro at zoning out. Takes you waving your hand in his face before he snaps back.

- Bipolar? More-so emotional switch. Tends to be soft-spoken and awkward, trying his best to keep conversation while fidgeting his hands, looking anywhere but at your face. Otherwise, he’s an in-your-face, aggressive, no emotional resistance when that flip is switched. Lots of teeth gritting and yelling, swings his ax around like it’s a toy to intimidate. It takes a lot for him to get to that point, but it takes double the time for him to come back down from it.

- Not easily scared. Will throw himself into a fight and come out victorious somehow.

- Sleeper build. Wears lots of baggy clothing and layers so you can’t tell, but secretly he’s jacked. He may look scrawny, but don’t be fooled. Really strong shoulder and chest muscles from dually swinging his ax and dragging bodies around. He doesn’t think it’s all that impressive. Wishes he was bigger.

- The worst posture you’ve ever seen.

- Let his facial hair grow out from time to time. Thinks it makes him look too mature, but appreciates the compliments he gets.

- Has a secret hobby of playing a guitar he found on a mission. His tics mess him up a lot, but it’s worth the trip out deeper into the woods where no one can hear to practice a little.

- A little shit.

- Hates the heat. Would rather freeze to death than spend one moment in the too hot sun. Favorite season is late fall, around the first snowfall time.

- Big on territory. Never had privacy or respect as a kid so he values having his own things and belongs that nobody else can touch.

- Definitely shy, but not in the “UwU” way, in the “Can you get this from the gas station for me? The girl in there looks mean.”

- Bites his nails, the skin around his nails, and his cuticles LIKE A MF.

- Very light sleeper. Unless he’s absolutely dead beat exhausted, he’ll wake up from just the floorboards creaking. Has to be physically exhausted to actually rest.

- When listening to music, he needs it as loud and close as possible. Headphones are a must and they must be at max. He wants to feel that bass.

- A stray animal lover, feels similar to them in a way.

- Breaks down a lot. Hard to console or even talk to in those moments but some time alone in his room will do the trick.

- Has the education level of a middle schooler.

- Enjoys Gorillaz, Rainbow Kitten Surprise, and surprisingly, older country artists like Johnny Cash and Willie Nelson. “Outlaw shit.”

Dating Him/SFW:

- “Love” “Y/N…” “Baby”

- Loves when he touches you and you don’t pull away. Like when his knee accidentally rests against yours or his elbow bumps your arm while sitting on the couch and you don’t tug away, just sitting there letting him rest. He gets all giddy.

- Playing with your hair. Currently trying to learn how to braid.

- “Wait. O- Okay, so, right th- then left? No? F- Fuck, okay…”

- Favorite sleeping position is with you wrapping around each other, legs and arms tangled together as he hooks his chin onto the top of your head, rubbing your back. Even though you both get extremely hot and sweaty after a while, Toby enjoys the moment before you eventually shove him off.

- Likes to feel your body weight on him, whether it’s laying or sitting, he just likes the pressure and warmth you give.

- Big on physical touch, could really care less if he’s mad or not, just needs to have some part of his body touching yours.

- You could wear or look like absolutely anything and he’d still think you’re the most gorgeous thing he’s ever seen.

- Loves how you smell after getting out of the shower, can’t get enough of it while he kisses your warm, damp skin.

- Loves the way it feels when you comb through his hair with your fingers, practically purrs as he melts into your warmth, angling his head so you have better access.

- An admirer for sure, stares even when you catch on, studying every freckle or sunspot on your cheek.

- Self conscious about being your boyfriend. In reality, he’s an amazing lover, but he’s been conditioned his whole life that he’s not good enough and that ideal carries over.

- Tried to lick you through the hole in his cheek once, you both freaked out.

- Sensitive to high stress situations or loud noises so constantly reaches for your hand or crams himself into your side to block out the panic he can feel oncoming. You really help.

- Slasher movie date nights are always a bust because he’ll describe just how inaccurate that blood splatter was, followed by what would actually happen in detail.

- “If he c- cut the arm like that, it wou- wouldn’t spray out that far. This g- guy doesn’t even l- look like he’s ever even he- held an ax before.”

- Didn’t have a favorite color until you told him yours. Says his is the same, just cause it’s your favorite.

- Very immature in the sense of relationship problems. He thinks everything can be solved if he just avoids it, and that includes you. It takes a lot of bickering and patience, but he’ll eventually get over himself and force a solution.

- Doesn’t open up about anything ever. You’ve gotta fight tooth and nail for him to even mention his mother’s name. Will tell you all about his latest mission, however, whether you want to hear or not.

- Throws things or hits you playfully just to turn around and go “Who did that??”

Dating Him/NSFW:

- Boobs. Tits. Breasts. He needs them in his palms immediately.

- A big biter. Will never bite hard enough to draw blood but gets so turned on at seeing his teeth marks in your skin. Big territory thing.

- “Mine. See, I m- marked ‘ya. You’re mine.”

- His dream is to fuck your tits, too shy to ask though.

- Always been a “jerk off as fast as you can” kind of guy, fisting his cock fast to just get off. So when you slowly slide down his cock for the first time, taking your time to adjust and grind your hips at a steady pace, he nearly cums on the spot from how overwhelming it is.

- Bisexual, definitely.

- Starts at a fast pace at first, thrusting and grinding until both of your hips hurt, but then slowly his pace changes, more intentional movements and sinking deeper, more focused on stretching you out then getting deep. Just wants to get you dizzy before he gives you the good stuff lol.

- “Th- That feel good? You’re sq- squeezin’ so tight, ah-”

- His fingernail imprints all over your skin from how hard he holds you.

- Pervert but not in a creepy way. Pervert as in gets a boner from just watching your ass as you walk across the room. Has to clench his fists every time you bend over or raise your shirt up. Can barely breathe if you’re showing too much skin.

- Not big on degradation, but is very big on affirmation, loves to be told he’s doing good.

- Secretly, sooooo secretly loves the idea of anal. For both you and him. He wants to be buried in your ass, your back laid into his chest as he shoves his fingers into your cunt, panting into your neck. But at the same time, wishes you would just read his mind and push your fingers into his, fisting his cock as you stretched him so well.

- Surprisingly, very flexible. Whatever position you’re in he can easily contort to get the best angle to sink his cock in.

- Jealousy sex. Another resident of the mansion catches your glance for too long and suddenly you’re shoved into the bathroom, pants at your ankles as the brunette swipes the pads of his fingers against your clit, biting against your shoulder as he ruts into your ass.

- “Mine, mine, m- mine, nobody els- else makes you feel this good. Right? R- Right? Yeah?”

- A WHINER. Grade A pro at burying his face into your neck/pillow/chest and just sobbing his pleasure through tears and moans. He’s so loud, obnoxiously groaning and huffing as you slap your hand over his mouth. It doesn’t help though, as soon as your hand pushes down his tongue is already out and licking your palms.

- You in his hoodie? Yeah, it’s the only thing you’re wearing while he snaps his hips, pushing your knees back as far as they’ll go to get even deeper, mewling about how good you look.

- Loves to sit back and watch you suck his cock, his fingers pushing strands of hair out of your face as you try to take it all in, eyes twitching the further down you get. He’s not insanely big, just lengthy enough to make you choke and reach all the best parts. Likes to put his goggles on your forehead and watch them dangle as you bob up and down.

- Cumming in you? No. Cumming on you? Every single time. Goes absolutely crazy when he sees his seed shot across your stomach or thighs, your flushed skin and post-orgasm twitches getting him so turned on he can’t focus.

- “You ju- just look so good… Couldn’t he- help myself, okay? Sorry… Can we, u- uh… Can we go ag- again?”

Thank you for reading!

Comments and reblogs are appreciated! 𐚁₊⊹

[realcube]

bnha men as your boss

characters ♡ bakugo, iida & aizawa

tws / tags ♡ NSFW , MINORS DNI. sex, power dynamics, vaginal. specific triggers are before each character.

BAKUGO

tw : vaginal , degradation.

♡ you have to give him credit where credit is due: he is very upfront about his intentions, even before you get hired for the job

♡ he lets you know during the interview process that he is looking a for a personal assistant to not only do menial paperwork and make coffee, but to also attend to his personal needs. and that if you're not up for that, you can find another job.

♡ but you only thought of that as another perk , so you went ahead with it

♡ and like he said, a lot of your duties during the daytime were ordinary and banal: running errands, scheduling appointments and managing his calendar.

♡ but the night is when things would heat up

♡ and perhaps some of the tension and passion from the after-hours affair would still be lingering between you two come the morning, but you tried to brush it off the best you could and act normal so bakugo's co-workers wouldn't get suspicious

♡ although, they were all starting to get a feeling that something was going on between you. and their suspicions were only furthered when you came rushing into a meeting with bakugo's coffee and accidentally spilled it all over him. and instead of yelling at you or cursing you out, he just sighed and left the room to clean himself up.

♡ baring in mind, this is the same man who fired a past PA for stepping on his shoe.

♡ but really, the reason he didn't lash out on you in front of everyone else in the meeting, was because he knew he would get to do it later..

---------------------------

he has you bend over his office desk, ass up and bare while he rams into your leaking pussy. one hand is tangled in your hair to keep your face pressed crudely against the smooth surface, while the other is free to imflict hot smack against your ass. coming down and causing a surge of pain to race through you, as he leaves a searing handprint on your supple skin.

"what the fuck.." he grits through his teeth, his harsh pace unwavering, "was that?"

you groan against the desk, your whole body shakes with each fierce thrust into your tight pussy, creating lewd slapping noises. " 'm sorry.. katsu— ah! " you're cut off as he lands another rough slap against your ass, gripping the flesh in his scolding hand afterwards.

"you're gunna be fuckin' sorry." he groans, entranced by the way your walls grip onto him in reaction to the impact. continuing to plough into you at an absurd rate, his girthy cock splitting you right open, and causing your pussy to leak all over him. "let's see if your still such a clutz after i'm done with this dumb pussy." he spits down at you, rubbing the fluid against your folds for a disgusting mixture of liquids.

"gunna use it til you can't walk." he slaps both cheeks this time consecutively, gaining two identical yelps from you, at which he chuckles lowly between thrusts. " 'ts all your good for anyway."

IIDA

tw : praise

♡ very much a gentleman

♡ despite the fact he feels a certain way about you , he would do his best to suppress his feelings and avoid acting on them as he knows he's your boss and he'd hate to make you uncomfortable

♡ but even though he tries his best to treat you the same as everyone else.. pretty much anyone, including yourself, can pick up on the fact he likes you

♡ it's made obvious by the way he gravitates towards talking to you first thing in the mornings, and how even the most banal conversation between the two of you is enough to put a cheesy grin on his face and start his day off well

♡ or the way he gives you the lightest workload out of all his other sidekicks and employees

♡ or how he praises you for doing even the most minor accomplishments or carrying out the most straight-forward duties. you once did 10 minutes of overtime and the next day he gushed to you about your outstanding work ethic for like half an hour and continued to rave about you to everyone else, as though you were a star worker

♡ and you just can't help but find all of this quite endearing. and if you were being honest, he was quite attractive too. the way he'd flash you a cute smile and you'd get a whiff of his strong, musky cologne whenever he'd walk by you in the hallway was enough to make your head spin — you really couldn't get enough of him.

♡ which is why you said yes when he eventually asked you out to dinner

--------------------------

"such a good girl.." he groans against your skin, peppering soft kisses down your neck and collarbone, while you're stood with your back pressed flush against his foyer wall. the tension between you two was too thick, you couldn't wait until you made it to his bedroom before starting.

his hand delicately traces your curves as his lips make their way down your chest, nibbling at your clothed nipple before halting. casting his crimson red eyes up to meet your own, "now, do you promise not to tell anyone else at work about this, sweetheart?" he mutters, lips inches away from yours, as his hot breath teases you.

"why not?" you squeak as his hand roams under your dress and his strong palm grinds against your needy clit.

he almost chuckles at your innocent question, "it's not very professional what we're doing together." he clarifies, using his fingers to push his glasses up the bridge of his nose, while the fingers of his other hand continue to explore between your thighs, and gently rub against your heat through your soaking panties. "but i really don't want this to end, do you?"

your lip quivers and you shake your head, "no.." you say breathily, capturing his hand between your legs, "i need you." you whine out for more, as he was giving you just enough to leave you desperate.

"i need you too, angel."

AIZAWA

tw : thigh riding, implied age gap.

♡ very indifferent; king of (pretending to be) nonchalant

♡ they'd likely give him a teaching aid for the betterment of the class' academic performances or something like that, and he'd be really opposed to the idea because he thinks he can run the class just fine on his own, like he has been for years now

♡ but he'd slowly but surely come around on the idea of having a teaching aid, not only because it gives him more time to sleep instead of working, but also because you are his aid and he can't be mad at the fact he gets to spend time with you

♡ the two of you have undeniable chemistry straight off the bat, but you do your best to hide it in front of the students and other teachers

♡ but it's definitely there.. and it doesn't take long for the chemistry to manifest in your after-hours discussions

♡ there is probably a little bit of age gap going on in your relationship , but nothing too drastic. you're just the new, barely experienced aid looking to gain wisdom off aizawa, so you spend the majority of your shift swooning over him, trying to get him to teach you stuff and show him all the resources you've made in an attempt to impress him

♡ meanwhile he's just straight-faced the whole time, pretending to be unamused.. even though, on the inside he is quite charmed by you and thinks you're just the sweetest

♡ maybe, if you're extremely observant, you'll see him crack the tiniest smile inbetween sips of his coffee, while you are enthusing to him about your new lesson plans

---------------------------

he's sat at his desk in his private office after-hours, with papers scattered all over it. in one hand is his red pen which he is using to grade papers, and in the other is your waist. you are straddling his thigh, with your arms draped lazily around his shoulders and your nose buried into the crook of his neck.

feeling the subtle flex of his muslces against your already sopping cunt caused you to groan into his neck. you had worn a dress today with no tights so your clothed pussy was sat directly on the harsh material of his jeans, but you wanted to experience every single ounce of satisfaction. hence, you pulled your panties to the side and pressed your bare cunt against his thigh, whining like a whore into the emptiness of his office.

though he didn't pay you any mind, and was fixated on his papers. which somehow made the situation even hotter. soon, you began to grind against his leg, sliding yourself back and forth, allowing the fricition between your sensitive cunt and the rough denim to coarse through you. pressing your tender clit down against him repeatedly, and moaning his name lewdly like he was the one responsible for your worlds of satisfaction. which he partially was, even though he put no effort into it. he wouldn't even spare you a glance when you were screaming out for him.

it was a while before you were able to make yourself come undone all over his leg, but it was all so worth it. one of the most cathardic climaxes of your life. you were panting heavily and completely out of breath, laying your tired body against his for a few minutes, until he told you to sit upright.

his hand wandered down to your cunt, and even the fleeting brush of his fingers against your heat was enough to make you whine lowly. but really he was trying to established how wet you were, and of course when he pulled his fingers away, they were drenched with your juices. "hm," he grumbles, exmaning his hand, "look at this mess. who is going to clean this up, dear?"

argh sorry this is short i was gonna write another character but idk who......

[acapelladitty]

The Ghoul x Knife Kink

Hotter Than A Match Head

Pairing: The Ghoul (Cooper Howard) x Female Reader

Summary: A late night fuck turns into something more when Cooper decides to bring his knife into the fray. (1.1k words)

(tw for: knife play, rough sex, nipple play, dirty talk, threats of violence, mild blood, dom/sub dynamics)

Link to AO3

Fic Masterlist

Fucking Cooper was like being trapped in a hurricane; a constant flurry of movement, of your body being manipulated, shaped, and generally thrown around with minimal care. The ferality which he so closely monitored and kept at bay only ever appeared to slip through as he ravaged your body without mercy - by hand, by teeth and by cock.

He was relentless in what he wanted and reckless in his pursuits.

But not tonight.

Tonight he was much more careful in his considerations as he pinned you to the dirty floorboards of the abandoned house you had agreed to spend the night hiding out in. The floor was cold and gritty against your back but you hardly notice it, so engrossed by both the cock which was spearing your cunt and the wicked ghoul attached to it. A man who had pinned you to the floor many minutes before and was currently rolling the edge of his hunting knife across your chest like he were mapping out an assault.

You had watched that same knife sink into countless bodies, living and dead, and the graze of the serrated edge against your collarbone was electric. It was a blade which had seen more violence than most, but the dexterity with which he wielded it was stunning to see. A skill which had led to more than one heated fantasy that Cooper had finally seen fit to make a reality.

"Don't move." Cooper threatened, his eyes ablaze with unfettered arousal as they loomed free of his sunken face. "Don't wanna accidentally slice off something that I might miss."

At the warning, he rolls the flat of the knife across your right nipple - the nub peaked and already reddened by his teeth as he had 'perked' them up earlier in your little game. Shuddering at the sensation of the cool metal, your hand grips even tighter at his forearm and the leathery skin there has very little give beneath your clawing fingers.

His knife glints in the meagre lighting, a single, shitty lamp providing illumination against the dark room, and you tighten around him; your cunt as wet and willing as ever as the thrill of his knife adds an extra layer of danger that makes you dumb as all fuck and desperate to see it used.

Writhing and groaning as he trails the edge of the blade across your skin, not deep enough to cut but with enough harshness to threaten, a cruel smile splits his ragged lips as his bright eyes refuse to leave your expression.

"It really makes you this willing, eh? Haven't seen a bitch in this kinda heat for a long time, sweetie. Maybe I'll even throw ya a bone."

Swiping the knife free of your chest, he continues to lazily thrust within your cunt - his thick cock making every rut of his hips feel like your walls were being hollowed out and punished - as he taps the knife against your stomach in a slowly descending pattern.

Your knees spreading even further, heels determined to gouge out a section of his lower back as they push into him roughly, a keening moan slips free of you as he teasingly grinds the butt of the knife against your engorged and somewhat neglected clit.

It's a fresh hell; sparking pleasure mixing with overstimulating discomfort as your most sensitive nerves are subjected to the cool leather and cruel pressure of the knife. It's a rough texture, every ridge making you flinch and whine, as the sudden onslaught has you stuttering out a slew of utterly incomprehensible pleas which simultaneously beg him for more while demanding he stop.

"It would be so easy." Cooper muses, pulling the knife away and letting it hang between his fingers as he presses his hand to the ground. "You're far too soft for this kinda life. Cut me and it don't make a difference. Hell, I'm not sure I'll even bleed. But you-" He trails off, his groin never ceasing in its movements as he continues to deliver shallow, punishing thrusts to your cunt.

"You should do it." You pant, meeting his aggression by rolling your hips against his groin to stimulate every pulsing nerve in your sex. "Cut me. Mark me as yours."

"Can't be doing that, darling." His breathing very quickly grows ragged, his cock noticeably jerking within your cunt at the lustful demand. "Cause I might never stop. By the time I was finished, you'd be painted even redder than I am."

"Cooper." A keening whimper as his hand abandoned the knife to wrap around your throat, squeezing and testing the skin there as he enjoyed the sensation of you swallowing around his fingers. "Please. Just one. Just a-an intital. You can choose where."

Punctuating each sentence with a thrust of your hips as you remained pinned beneath him, the ridges which sat along the hollow of his nose appeared to flare for a moment as he considered his options - interest alighting behind his darkened eyes.

"You're a tricky one, sweetheart. I've known seasoned whores that're less convincing than you."

It's almost a purr, his accented syllables glossing over the backhanded compliment like an old blanket, but he complies anyway as he releases your neck and snatches his knife back up, the point coming to rest on your hip.

Stilling your movements for just a moment, the feeling of his cock as it stretches you out with its unrelenting heat growing more and more intoxicating. Every passing second is a constant discomfort which makes the pleasure all the sweeter as you warm his cock for him as he works.

"Be ready." Is all the warning you get before he digs the tip of his knife forward into your unprotected hip, the sharpness of the blade splitting the skin like it were little more than butter.

As aroused as you were, it still hurt like fuck, and a stuttered cry is buried into his shoulder as you push your head up - the pain flaring with a wicked intensity before dissolving just as quickly into a dull ache. In the same instance, a tickle of dripping liquid rolls down your skin and you lie back on the floor as he discards the knife to the side with a noisy clatter.

Instantly his hand is pressing over the wound and the pain of the pressure adds to the adrenaline which is making your fingers tremble and your cunt clench, the latter making him grunt as he presses his groin as tightly against your sex as he can to fill you with every inch.

"S'only a superficial cut." Cooper groans, enjoying the determined way in your cunt was milking him with every inviting spasm. "For a scar we'll need to keep poking at you 'til the tissue is so damaged, you'll need to skin it off to get rid of me."

Pulling his blood-tinged fingers to your face, you nip at the pads of his fingers - the leathery skin rough against your lips - as you wrap your free arm around his back. Using him as leverage, you begin to roll your hips once more as you chase the release your body is now desperate for, every inch of your skin feeling sensitive and raw.

"That's the best- ah, the best fucking news I've heard all day."

Unleashing a low chuckle at the enthusiam, Cooper meets your determination with some of his own as he resumes his merciless fucking - all the while, his hand refusing to let up its pressure on the crimson 'C' which lay, freshly carved into your willing skin.

[konigsblog]

does yandere könig have a preference for body hair? would he shave his darling’s body hair for her or does he not care now that she’s all for him?

please elaborate your thoughts thanks love you

writing this directly after shaving (⁠*⁠´⁠ω⁠｀⁠*⁠) 🪒

tw/cw; somnophilia mention towards the end. 🔞

i could see both being very possible, although i'm leaning towards him shaving the reader's body hair while bathing you, running his bare and calloused hands along your soft, supple skin.

he prefers to have complete control over your body and what you do to it. he'll shave your legs, careful not to cut you accidentally. if you're misbehaving and squirming, he might nip you with the blade and hiss at you for being whiney and bitchy, cursing you out under his breath in german, his eyebrows furrowed together through frustration, focused.

or perhaps he isn't that bothered. he doesn't care whether his beloved angel is shaved or not, he has you all for himself, under his corrupted and warped gaze.

i think könig prefers to keep himself hairy, so i don't think he's very bothered about your own body hair and whether you choose to keep yourself shaven or not. but, he can't deny that he adores the soft sensation of running his scarred hand along your freshly shaved legs, or gently rubbing at your bare cunt while you're fast asleep in his strong arms, your cheeks still glossy and wet from a previous meltdown.

[my-castles-crumbling]

This whole time?

Jegulus for the soul. My idiots.

Based on an anonymous request. TW: accidental misgendering, miscommunication, but a happy ending!

He'd been avoiding it for weeks. Ignoring the feeling in his stomach, the nagging of his conscience that was telling him it was time. That if he wanted this to go anywhere, he had to tell him.

Of course, he didn't expect himself to just burst out with it one day.

"I'm trans, James," he practically shouted in the middle of their conversation atop the Astronomy Tower on a random Saturday.

And James, to his credit, just paused and looked over him quizzically.

"You...you're trans?" he asked. Well, he didn't look disgusted or angry, Regulus realized to his intense relief.

"Yes," Regulus murmured, looking down. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner. I was worried, and-"

"Oh, love," James whispered, eyes wide and adoring. "There's no need to worry. You know I'll always support you. So....this means you're a girl?"

And Regulus's hope, which had previously been hesitantly building up around him, came crashing down. "No," he said, his voice cold. His stomach twisted as the dysphoria grew crawled along his skin.

James blinked, looking thoroughly confused, "But you said-"

But, after receiving the reaction he'd been dreading, Regulus's easy defensiveness flared, and he found himself ranting. "Merlin, I can't believe I thought you'd understand! No, I'm not a girl! I'm a boy, Potter! Just because I'm trans doesn't mean you can suddenly call me a girl! I thought- I thought-!"

James, however, cut him off. "Reg. Wait a second. You've been trans this whole time?"

Regulus reeled, shocked James was so ignorant. "Yes, James! You don't just wake up one day and decide-"

"No! No, I mean-" James laughed, and Regulus wanted to kick him. "I mean, I just...when you said you were trans, I thought you meant you were born a boy. Like, y'know..." he made an awkward gesture to his legs, his fingers curled to make a circle. "I thought you were telling me you wanted to be a girl now!"

Regulus gaped.

James grinned sheepishly. "I'm sorry, love. I didn't mean to upset you. I just meant to say, whatever you want to be- boy, girl, whatever- I'll still like you the same, you know? That I'm not going anywhere."

"Oh," Regulus mumbled, shrinking back, relief flooding through him. "So...you're not mad?"

"Reg, I love you," James shrugged, his small smile lighting up Regulus's entire world. "As long as you are happy, that's what I care about."

"I love you, too," Regulus mumbled, tearing up as he said those words for the first time.

Just a note: obviously, James doesn't have the most knowledge on transness, hence some of his comments and actions!

[angelyuji]

Hi Izzi! I really like the stepcest thing

Maybe you can write about slightly dark step... brother(? Peter Parker? Him always looking at the reader and getting too close to her, reader's dad not realizing something's wrong cause he's still in the "honeymoon phase" part of the relationship with May

Peter being love-struck always wanting to smell your hair/touch you in some way/spend time with you

RAHHWHHAHHAHDHHRHWJ UR COOKING WITH GASS

step bro!peter x gn!reader

tw // implied noncon (under the cut), stepcest, manipulation, gaslighting, semi-public sex (also under the cut), shitty actual father so... yeah

18+!!!!!

you knew of peter, but you guys never really crossed paths before in high school. your dad had been dating some mystery woman, but told you that he wasn’t ready for her to meet you. and before long, you leave for college and come back in the summer to find out your dad’s mystery gf is now his fiancé who is peter parker’s aunt/guardian??? you’re completely blindsided when you get home and find out that, not only did may and peter MOVE IN, but you’re sharing a room with peter 😭😭 (since you're gone for most of the year and peter commutes from home, they thought it would be better for you both to share) (they also just wanted to convert the spare bedroom into an office for may.... so you see where your father's priorities lie)

your dad is sooo in love that when you complain about it, he tells you “please, kiddo, your old man is so happy. can you try to make it work?” and gives a sad old man look to make you fold.

step-bro peter def steals your clothes while you’re taking a shower, so you’re forced to come into the room in a towel or ask for his help. he def just steals ur clothes too. he’s the type to be super touchy when you’re near him, smelling you, holding your hand, and “accidentally” grazing your chest or ass. don’t bother telling ur dad tho cuz he’ll just say that peter’s making the effort to be family and you’re being rude.

i have a couple thoughts/scenerios….

one) its movie night and ur sitting at the end of the couch and peter sits next to you. the two of u are sharing a blanket. (may and dad next to him) you’re starting to fall asleep, eyes fluttering closed, when you feel a hand on your thigh. you look down to see peter’s hand on ur thigh, but when you look at him, he’s staring straight ahead at the movie. you try to move ur thigh, but he pinches your skin, stopping your movement. “what the hell do you think you’re doing.” you whisper.

peter puts a finger to his lips, before whispering back, “i’m just making sure you feel good.” he sees you look at your dad, “you don’t want them to see, do you?” peter moves your leg on to his lap, spreading your legs. you try to close your legs and call your dad when you see him, with may’s head on his shoulder. you close your mouth. he’d just get mad at you for ruining movie night.

two) this whole thing with peter touching you, invading your privacy, stealing your things, etc has been going on for a long time. with how happy may and ur dad have been, you kept quiet. you didn’t want your dad to be upset and you can deal with peter until you graduate. the only time you get a break is when you left for the fall semester, but its right back to business as usual when you’re back for break.

may and ur dad decide to get married summer of your sophomore year. so thanks to wedding stuff, you had gotten a break from peter…. until the day of the wedding. everything goes smoothly, of course, and you make ur speeches with tears in your eyes. thanking may for making your father so happy. peter comes up to the mic, thanking your father for making may happy “and for giving me (y/n), the best sibling i could ever ask for.” he smiles at you, raising his glass to you as everyone applauds peter. you force a smile back.

when everyones dancing and drinking, peter drags you away to a quiet room in the banquet hall. “(y/n), i’ve been waiting a long time for this.” he has you cornered against the wall and before you could look for a way out, he’s kissing you, trapping you between his body and the wall.

“peter, i-i need to go out there. our parents are going to look for us.” you try to move, but peter moves you back to where you were. he pulls you into him and kisses along your shoulder.

“they’re drunk and happy, (y/n). don’t ruin it for them.” peter bites into your shoulder. “now, baby, turn around and bend over.”

RUAHHHAHGAGAHHRHHRHRHRIWANTHIMSOOOBADDDD

icky step bro peter plsss come into my room at night and feel me up becuz ur a depraved virgin PLEASEEEPLEASE

[enternalvoid]

~Mha Relationship Headcanons: Villain edition!

Gender neutral reader

TW: very brief mentions of cuts, that's it.

Dabi

He's surprised when you admit your feelings for him. He didn't believe that anyone could love him, much less even care about him in the slightest.

He's not vocal with his feelings, he doesn't really know how to be, but he shows he cares in various ways.

He's way softer with you than he is anyone else. He's not as cold and apathetic when it comes to you, you get to see a whole other side of him that nobody else does.

He'd call you pet names, such as "darling", "baby", "sexy", "hottie", etc. Baby would have to be his favorite one though.

Touch starved af

He secretly loves it when you touch/kiss his scars. It makes his heart flutter every time you do so—he'll never admit it though.

His love language is gift giving. He'll randomly show up with something expensive that he totally bought. Saw some expensive clothing a few days prior? He's got it. Want a new watch? New phone? A plushie? He's getting it for you.

He has to be touching you at all times when you're in public, weather it be holding your hand or wrapping an arm around you.

He absolutely adores your body, especially your thighs and. They're his favorite pillows.

He needs affirmation from you. Hearing how much you love him, how you don't mind his scars, how you want to be with him—it makes him feel all warm inside.

If you're afab, he's like your personal heating pad when you're on your period. He'll hold his hand over your stomach and heat it up. He's also a lot more gentle with you during this time.

He tries to cook for you sometimes—he's not very good at it, but he tries.

You're the only person he truly trusts. He's so much more relaxed when it's just you and him together.

It's most likely something to do with his possessiveness, but seeing you in his clothes drives him absolutely crazy.

Manages to keep calm when jealous for the most part, but if anyone ever dares to hit on you, they're dead.

Shigaraki

He's completely clueless when it comes to romance prior to meeting you, so he wasn't exactly the best at relationships at first.

He's a quick learner, so he quickly learns what he should and shouldn't do (he pays a lot of attention to you, he just hides it)

He is extremely careful with you. He's absolutely terrified that he'll hurt you.

He refused to touch you for a long time until he got his gloves. Once he started wearing them, he practically never took his hands off of you.

His love language is physical affection. He's also extremely touched starved, much like Dabi. He wants needs to feel your skin against his.

He loves it when you play with his hair. It's surprisingly very soft, so you don't mind.

He loves your chest, it's his favorite place to lay his head. Your heartbeat is the most comforting sound to him.

He likes having you sit on his lap while he's gaming. He'll wrap his arms around you and rest his chin on your shoulder. He squeezes you when he gets mad if he loses a game.

Wants to hold your hand when you sleep, but is too scared too.

Recreated the league in the Sims 4. You accidentally discovered your Sims were dating before you actually got together in real life.

Most of your "dates" consist of just laying around playing Minecraft or some other game together.

Gets jealous when other people touch you. Who are they to put their disgusting, tainted hands on someone as perfect as you?

Toga

You're constantly covered in bite marks and cuts.

She loves going shopping with you, it's one of her favorite activities.

Love language is words of affirmation. She'll constantly praise you, telling you how much she loves you and how perfect you are.

Dates would consist of going out to malls, painting each other's nails, doing each other's hair, doing each other's makeup, etc.

You met her by accident. You were taking a shortcut through an alleyway and happened to run into her. She was immediately awestruck by you. You could almost always see her out of the corner of your eyes. When you both joined the League, the two of you struck up a romantic relationship.

She steals your stuff a lot. You'll find her wearing your clothes, your perfume/cologne, your body wash and shampoo. She uses one of your shirts as a pillow case.

She gets jealous very easily, even more so than Shigaraki and Dabi. You're hers, and she is yours.

Loves cuddling with you, will do so anywhere, anytime.

She's always holding your hand when you're in public. She just loves you so much, she wants everyone to know you're together.

As mentioned before, her love language is words of affirmation; any sort of praise from you is music to her ears. She goes even crazier than she already is for you when she hears those words come from your mouth.

You're always the one to initiate kisses. She doesn't mind kissing, but she's too busy biting you to really want to kiss.

She wants to be by your side 24/7.

Mr. Compress

Total gentleman<3

He has the most experience with romance out of the League, he knows what he's doing.

Love language is acts of service. He loves doing things for you. He'll cook for you, clean for you, and just overall take care of you as much as he can.

He's definitely the type of man to open the car door for you, like he actually refuses to let you open the door yourself. He will lock the door if you try to open it yourself.

Kisses the back of your hand a lot. He'll do that thing where he'll kiss your hand and move up your arm to your neck.

Always calls you "darling" or "sweetheart."

He likes bringing you to very expensive and fancy restaurants with the money that he totally made in a very legal way.

Will give you massages whenever you're sore.

He absolutely worships you. Your hair, your face, your body, your voice, your scent, he loves everything about you and he's not afraid to say it.

He'll get you almost anything you want. Just say the word and it'll be yours in no time.

He will literally die for you, you mean so much to him. He tells you this all the time.

Will get you your favorite flowers on your birthday. Don't like flowers? No worries, he'll get you something else. Anything for you.

Bonus: Hawks

Despite everyone believing he's a playboy, he's never actually been in a relationship.

He randomly shows up at your place out of the blue. There's been times when you've come home and he's just sitting on your couch like he owns the place. He did it so often that you just gave him an extra key.

It didn't take long for the public to find out about your relationship. He didn't try to hide it at all. Why would he? Hell, he'd scream it from the rooftops.

He likes bringing you random tiny gifts. He'll come home with a shit ton of trinkets and souvenirs as gifts for you. Half the time he won't even know what they are, he just thought they looked cool.

Dates with Hawks would probably be more casual. It's not going to be anything too fancy—unless you want to go somewhere fancy, he won't complain—but he'd at least take you somewhere nice.

Cuddles on the couch are a must. He'll pull you onto his lap and wrap his arms/wings around you.

Usually sleeps with his head on your chest or stomach with his wings wrapped around you. He mostly lays on his stomach because of his wings, but occasionally sleeps on his side. If he's laying on his side, he's big spoon.

Gets jealous over you pretty easily.

He gets pissed at interviewers when they bother you. They often pester you with pretty personal questions about your relationship. He's always quick to tell them off.

He has you as his lockscreen on his phone, which is just one of many pictures he has of you. He just adores you and wants to be able to look at your pretty face at any time.

Loves wearing matching clothes with you. Definitely has matching Hello Kitty pajamas with you.

[animeyanderelover]

Characters of your choice from JJK with a darling who has a tattoo of their ex please

Holidays, everyone! I finally have my holidays! I changed it slightly so that the darling has a tattoo of the name of their ex.

Tw: Yandere themes, toxic relationship, possessive behavior, obsession, delusional thoughts, clinginess, manipulation, controlling behavior, forceful behavior, death

S/o has a tattoo of the name of their ex

Fushiguro Megumi

💙You have never told him of your tattoo before, aware how paranoid Megumi tends to be. Perhaps that would have been the wiser choice yet instead he discovers the name engraved on your skin himself as you fail to cover the name on your shoulder in time as he accidentally walks in on you changing. Thick silence befalls the room as he just stands there, frozen as his eyes are glued to the black kanji signs on your skin. His mind repeats the name over and over again until he suddenly remembers where he has heard it before. His heart drops, a lumb of fear and insecurities forms at the back of his throat and his eyes widen frantically. You try to come up with something, anything to explain this to him yet he is faster. Suddenly he stands in front of you, arms seizing your shoulders as he asks you with a slightly raised voice why you never told him that you had a tattoo of your ex. Why?? Why would you do that?? Were...were they that important to you? What about him then?

💙He can't bear to look at you the same way as before after that for quite some while, not without imagining the name of your ex tattooed on your shoulder. It's like a marking that spells out that you once loved someone else and whenever he actually sees your tattoo, he feels something clenching deep inside his chest. His insecurities and paranoia increase as he starts wondering if you still harbor feelings for your ex. Going as far as carrying a tattoo of their name around is a pretty big sign of devotion after all. You find yourself having a harder time to calm him down, the tattoo on your shoulder triggering him whenever he catches a glimpse of it. It haunts him, torments him a bit and he has wondered a couple of times already if he has to threaten your ex as paranoia poisons his ability to think rationally and instead whispers into his mind that you might return to your ex. He knows that it isn't good for his sanity which is why at some point he begs you to remove it somehow. Please, it torments him.

Zenin Maki

💚​Maki has known about your tattoo for a longer while now, it's hard to hide something written on your wrist with black and permanent ink after all. She already questioned this decision of yours back then quite a bit because it's quite risky to get a tattoo of the name of your ex without any guarantee that they'll stay. All you could do back then was to give her a pitiful laugh as you couldn't help but agree with her. Back then this was still fine though but now it is a different story as she's grown rather possessive over you. The tattoo is an eyesore for her whenever she sees it and due to the visible spot you chose, she sees it multiple times a day. She lets out a scoff whenever her eyes find the kanji signs and her mood is almost always worsening a tad bit whenever she spots the name of your former lover. At least she is reasonable enough to understand that both of you have broken it up for good so she isn't as wavering and paranoid as Megumi. She knows that you don't have any feelings for them anymore.

💚​That doesn't mean that she hasn't completely forgiven you for your stupidity to get a tattoo in the first place. In fact she is scolding you more nowadays for your decision than before. Maki knows that you regret that mistake yourself but she can't help it sometimes, she is a bit mad and tends to express that with not so kind words. At the very least she notices that her words only cause you to feel worse so she tries to comfort you as good as she can everytime her tongue slips and she accidentally cuts you with her words. She makes it very clear to you though that she greatly dislikes that you have the name of someone else decorating your body whilst you're together with her and you can't even blame her for it. She would appreciate for you to somehow get rid of this tattoo and sometimes you have the feeling that her wish sounds more like a demand.

Gojo Satoru

🩵​It's perhaps not the best idea to let Gojo ever find out about your tattoo but how is that even supposed to work? The man is so terribly clingy and intrusive and despite his goofy facade, you have a feeling that he might react very badly to the sight of your tattoo. You try to figure out a way how to tell him as harmlessly as possible but you can't come up with anything. Maybe it wouldn't have made a difference in the first place. That's at least what you think as you try to wiggle free from his unusually tight grip, one of his hands lifting up your shirt as dull blue eyes stare at the name written slightly above your hip. Your breath hitches in your throat when those same blue eyes finally meet your own and you feel like you could drown within the abyss of the darkness swirling behind those beautiful orbs. A forced smile stretches his face as he asks you why you have someone's name tattooed on your body. Especially that of your ex.

🩵​You have a hard time convincing him not to go after your ex as your gut screams at you that something terribly will happen otherwise. You beg him to have mercy since both of you have ended the relationship years ago and you don't even have any contact with them anymore. You swallow heavily when his heavy and colder gaze rests on you yet still plead him to not do anything to them as you promise to do whatever he wants. Your wish is somewhat granted as Gojo doesn't harm them but he still wants to have seen the person whose name stains your skin at least once. Needless to say, he is disappointed when he sees your ex who is in his eyes a nobody but perhaps that reassures him a tiny bit. He can't help but torment and scare the poor soul though and they don't know even why. He organizes an appointment for you where the tattoo will be completely removed and only after that he seems to return to his usual self, happily kissing the now empty spot on your skin.

Kamo Choso

🩸​Choso is absolutely attached to your hips. He's needy, soft-spoken, careful and surprisingly considerate. If he wouldn't have been your kidnapper and creepy stalker, you might have appreciated him more though. There is something about him that sometimes just unsettles you and he himself doesn't even seem to notice when he's creeping you out until he witnesses your reaction. You don't even notice him until you feel his fingertips brushing against your skin and nearly jump out of your skin, turning bewildered around to see Choso staring at the same spot where your tattoo was only a few moments ago. He doesn't move as he now stares into empty air as if trying to process something until dark eyes finally meet your own. He swallows before apologizing that he just walked in on you without telling you anything. A few seconds of silence before you hear him asking you once again, this time in a slightly shaky tone, what that was he just saw on your back.

🩸​It's like Choso initially refuses to believe that a tattoo is something permanent as he rejects the thought that you will walk around with a name of your ex-lover forever engraved onto your being. You wake sometimes up in the middle of the night only to feel his hand rubbing against the tattoo as if trying to erase it himself, you notice the way his hands start trembling when he realizes that the ink doesn't fade away even a tiny bit and pray that he won't have a meltdown. Choso would never blame you for it but that means that his hostility is turned against your ex as he starts genuinely believing that they tricked you and manipulated your feelings, abused your kindness which is why you were fooled into getting such a tattoo. He never goes out to kill them though, only because you stop him though and successfully manage to coax him into not doing such a thing and instead he just clings onto you. He asks you anxiously more than once if there is a way to get rid of the tattoo and you know that it's probably the best way to preserve his sanity somehow.

Mahito

🔷​Good luck in general with Mahito because that is a recipe for disaster anyways. Mahito's perception of love differs greatly and is much more twisted and warped than anything and in his eyes he wouldn't even label his feelings as love. He likes to view you more as a sweet experiment, an interesting specism he just likes to spend time with whilst poking and tormenting you to gauge all of your reactions. The best you can do is try to endure it without giving him too much of a reaction because the bastard loves seeing you respond strongly to anything he does. Unfortunately you don't react quite as level-headed as you would like to have when he notices the dark ink on your legs and suddenly yanks you towards him, his hands roughly holding your leg, unimpressed by the way you're kicking and hissing at him. Cold fingers brush over the lettering on your skin, mismatched eyes curiously go back and forth between your eyes and the dark ink on your thigh before he asks you what this is.

🔷​He's genuinely interested to hear your reasons why you would decide to have the name of your ex tattooed on your skin and it is hard for you to tell if he is angry at all about it or not. He's definitely mocking and degrading you though as he labels you stupid for doing something like this despite never having known if they would actually stay with you. His fingers are still tracing over the tattoo and when he suddenly falls quiet for a while, you realize that he's thinking about something. Then he suddenly asks you if you just feel better if you have someone's name on your body which successfully makes you feel like you belong to someone. You're offended by his words but he doesn't give you time to answer as a grin suddenly flashes across his face, his grip tightening as he says with an excited tone that he wants to see his name on your skin too. You can't do anything but watch as your leg deforms in a grotesque way before returning to it's normal form. Your previous tattoo has disappeared and instead the kanji signs now read Mahito's name. Do you want more~?

[writteninlunarlight-years]

Tears to Shed

This is based on Tears to Shed from the Corpse Bride. Where Alastor accidentally marries the reader. The only problem is Alastor doesn't want to marry anyone. TW: Angst, Hurt, Sorrow, Illusions to Suicide but you can't die in hell unless it's angelic steel; Alastor is well Alastor, Mimzy is Alastors partner in this. <I am open to writing a part 2 if yall like this> @willowaudreykeyes helped me edit!

The day Alastor slipped the ring onto your finger seemed to shake the whole world with the weight of fated lovers. He was a striking figure, with caramel skin glinting beneath the sun, eyes alight, and a vigorous appetite for power and immortality. But beneath the surface, a shadow lingered: his heart was not free but tied to Mimzy, that star of the city, resplendent with the possibilities of influence and status among humans.

But in that very moment, as your eyes caught the gleam of the ring, you could almost think he chose you. You were, after all, wearing his ring, and he had said those vows with such passion as if some unseen force bound your destinies. 

But then time unraveled, and the truth trickled in like a cold, silent mist: Alastor wanted neither you nor Mimzy. He wanted to be free and live a life unencumbered by chains called commitment. He wanted power and to be feared above all others in his realm.

You had been heartbroken, perched up on the roof of a falling building in Hell, looking out at the fire spreading to the horizon. Never a fan of red and black, you'd always enjoyed blue and silver. The licks of flames danced like lost souls, taunting your self-worth.

You did, indeed, feel the gravity of your life in that moment-the corpse bride, once a loving beauty, now a demon cloaked by yearning and solitude: Alastor had brought one spark of hope into your heart only to cast it down into the dark. The pain of betrayal and the weight of your new existence as a demon were crushing you, threatening to consume the last remnants of your humanity.

You remembered that cold, starless night when he slid the ring onto your finger. For the beat of a moment, you were complete, while today, you are the broken pieces of what you once were: a beautiful woman full of life and a longing to be loved. But now, the truth stared you in the face: he was trapped, and you were the specter haunting his every step, it would appear.

You'd found Alastor begging for Mimzy's help only hours before. The scene had played like an echo in your mind, a foreign sound that twisted your insides. You'd seen it in his eyes, heard it in the shake of his voice. Beneath the bluster of a power-hungry fool, he was just a man desperate to be free of the tethers of a promise he had never wanted to make. And you, you were the one who had been used as a pawn in their twisted game of power and love.

As the reality fell in your heart like ashes, your friends emerged from the shadows: Nero, the imp, and Arianna, the succubus. Their loyalty to you puts a soothing wave over your spirit of fire and ice. They pressed themselves against your sides, the heat from their bodies contrasting with the chill of your skin and the despair that began to wrap around you as time passed.

They stared at the scene before you, knowing this was their doing. Had they not encouraged you to keep Alastor in your life, to guide and mentor you in a fantasy of mortals and demons in love, you wouldn't be like this on the brink of unleashing your powers on all of Hell once again, just as you had on the day you had died.

"What does that wispy little brat have that you don't have double?" Nero's voice was soft yet managed to cut through the fog in your brain. The gentle touch of his hand to yours was akin to a lifeline for a moment.

Arianna leaned in, her eyes aglow with wild affection. "She can't hold a candle to the beauty of your smile!" she said, in words that were an attempt at stitching the pieces of your heart together.

"Yeah, how about a pulse?" You snorted, the venom of bitterness thick in your voice as you stared at the fiery scene below your chosen hideout. You just felt like an antique compared with the sweet Mimzy.

"Overrated by a mile!" Nero chipped in, his voice light yet grave, as he sat by your side with a mutual understanding of the pain you are experiencing.

"Overfed!" Arianna cut in with a snort, her tail flicking in outrage.

"Overblown!" Nero exclaimed, with echoes of laughter resounding around the darkening space. Then he turned to Arianna, who nodded with full vigor. For a moment, their eyes shone with playfulness as they looked at you, hope alighting in their pupils.

"If he only knew the you that we know," they chorused in unison, gripping your hands tight. Their faces held pride with a touch of pain, but they held steady on one thing: their unity in support of you.

Arianna played with the ring on your left hand, smirking with mischief and love. "And the little silly creature isn't wearing his ring!"

Nero playfully elbowed you. "And she doesn't play piano!"

"Or dance or sing! No, she doesn't compare!" they chortled, their voices rising like some haunting melody.

But the shadows of doubt clung to you like a second skin. "But she still breathes air," you muttered; the weight of your reality fell again.

"Who cares?" they chorused, still enthusiastic, though you knew they were growing tired of your self-doubt.

"Unimportant!" Nero insisted, scrambling onto your shoulder, his small frame reassuring.

“Overblown!" Arianna echoed with whimsical reassurance, wrapping her tail gently around your arm.

"If only he could see how special you can be. If only he knew you that we know," they said in one accord, a mantra to which you were no longer sure you believed.

You stood, peeling yourself gently from the tangle of friends. Your undead eyes threatened to spill over with tears as you swayed on the precipice of despair, humming a mournful tune. Closer to the edge of the building you sat atop, the seductive allure of the fall whispered promises of nothing, for you could not die here.

"If I touch a burning candle, I can feel no pain. If you cut me with a knife, it's still the same." You flourish the blade hidden in your garter, the cold steel calling to your mind your immortality. The use of it on Alastor flashed across your mind a spark of the most dangerous kind. You chase the thought away, turning back to your lament. The struggle between your desire for revenge and your lingering love for Alastor was tearing you apart, threatening to push you over the edge of sanity.

"And I know her heart is beating, and I know that I am dead. Yet the pain here that I feel, please try and tell me it's not real." You turned your gaze to your friends, their faces dimly lit by the firey light of hell, then fell back from the rooftop, landing softly within a coffin overflowing with blue and silver roses, the delicate petals wrapping you in a sorrow growing only larger by the minute.

"And yet, it would seem I still have a tear to shed." Your eyes, no longer shining bright, now blazed with the bitter salt of lost love, lost on the one with whom you had believed you shared. Yet time was a thief and saved little space for sorrow. Nero and Arianna were already down to your level, their eyes afire with determination in jarring contrast with the despair flooding your heart.

Nero was first to huddle beside you, his face lined with concern and encouragement. "The only redeeming feature of that little creature is that she's alive!"

Arianna joined him, her cheeks flushed from the hurried descent. "Yeah, it's overrated!" she chimed in, light in tone but weighted with the depth of unsaid meaning.

Nero nodded vigorously, nudging you gently as he gestured to the world beyond. "Yeah, even overblown!"

Arianna smirked, crossing her arms in a very defiant pose, even going so far as to tilt her chin upward in some kind of dare for you to say otherwise. "Everybody knows that’s just a temporary state, which is cured very quickly when we meet our fate!"

Nero's grin widened as he helped you sit up, your surroundings—a darkened alleyway—looming on like some sort of forgotten lover's heart. "Who cares?

Arianna wrapped her arm around your waist, the touch grounding and warm. "Unimportant!" she insisted, dismissing the weight of your sorrow with a wave of her hand.

Nero tugged your good hand with newly formed determination, pulling you toward the busy streets, back into the folds of society. "Overrated!"

Arianna toyed with your hair before flashing a mischievous wink over the mask of worried tension she knew was building the more they danced around your feelings. "Overblown!"

The pair sparkled brightly as they laughed-a stark difference amidst the cowering crowds shrinking away from you, the infamous Corpse Bride, the dainty specter who wielded more souls than damn near Lucifer himself.

"If only he could see how special you could be, if only he knew you, that we know!" Their words of encouragement merely cut through your heart like daggers.

You merely shook your head, a deepening frown as the shadows danced in your eyes, before pulling away and meandering to drift across the streets. A melancholy tune tumbled from your lips as those who'd dare to follow quickly began to wither into roses of silver and blue, scattered remnants of what once was. As you approached the next street, your lament started again, an echoing whisper.

"If I touch a burning candle, I can feel no pain; in the ice or in the sun, it's all the same." You breezed by a café with candles on its tables casting their golden light into the night air, and without even batting an eyelash, you blew them out, embracing the darkness like an old friend.

Your eyes closed, knowing, sans sight, that you were the most significant threat this Hellscape had ever known. Your heart clutched, and your sorrow blossomed into a dark storm that sent those who knew your power scurrying back into the shadows, fear etched upon their faces.

"Yet I feel my heart is aching; though it doesn't beat, it's breaking, and the pain here that I feel, please, try and tell me it's not real." As your eyes fluttered open, the street transformed before you: what once was vibrant red and black now lay cloaked in shades of blue and silver- your wailing, weaving a tapestry of despair, draped over the once bustling scenery.

"I know that I'm dead, yet it seems that I still have some tears to shed." Your voice was barely heard, and there was a broken murmur as you made your way to your house. The chill of the stone outside was like the weight of your grief. Climbing the stairs with sluggish motions, you sat at your piano bench and stared onto the keys, the swell of your sorrow deep.

Nero and Arianna watched you, their faces heavy with what was not said, too much pain entering them as it had the rest of hell when you started your lament. They knew all too well that you only called upon your full banshee powers when the weight of despair bore too much, even that they could not fix it.

You laid your fingers against the keys, and the weight of silence fell. You pressed a key, and the note sang out to resound as one deep ache in your soul, for Alastor would go back to the world of the living, leave you for another, and leave you a shadow.

The sob, so fragile yet mighty, ripped itself free from your lips and unleashed a storm into the very pits of hell. Your wail pierced the night, a chorus of anguish, seeing as you were Y/N, the Corpse Bride, or better yet, a banshee of ill fate, rivaling the voice of Lilith herself.

The roses that danced around your abode shook with solemn trembles at the harmonization of keys to a requiem of lost love. And you, still lost between the planes of life and death, celebrated being the Harbinger of Sorrow.

[azulsluver]

Pls don’t do this if you don’t feel comfortable doing it but, in the bully au for twst, imagine if they accidentally did go to far and killed yuu/mc.

I’ve been thinking about it for like the past day 😭

And have a good day or night!

tw. yandere, bully!characters, death of reader, Choking, hinted unintentional/intentional murder, mentions of cannibalism, gore.

Reactions to them (accidentally) killing you.

Riddle/Trey/Cater/Ruggie/Floyd/Vil/Rook included

|| .01 .02 .03 ||

Riddle

His punishments know no mercy, locking you away from everyone else. Riddle’s temper can only be bottled so little until it explodes, leading to your demise. Your brutish nature challenged him directly to where submission was needed, where his unique magic summoned onto you; so powerful it left you heaving and choking.

In a fit of his anger his emotions blinded him of everything but a need to release the burden of his love towards you. More likely the hurt of his ego, reasoning fell on deaf ears.

Riddle wouldn’t be able to notice the light in your eyes frantically holding onto what little of yourself you had. To die by him was an understatement, humiliation and anger being the last you’ll ever feel as you’re wrongfully killed. And when he does have your unresponding body in his hands does he understand his wrongs.

But Riddle would try to find an excuse for his behavior, unless someone were to outright tell him how unforgiving he was. Crushing his soul to an extent of taking your life. Riddle surprisingly, didn’t mean to kill you.

Trey

It was irresponsible of him to leave you without proper care. Trey let his feelings get the best of him, resulting in him neglecting you of your wounds as no one else bothered to check up on you. So when he takes the time to lock the doors of your room, blowing off steam by ignoring your cries and pain whimpers from the other side.

There’s a conflicted look in his eyes as he peers down at your lifeless body. He should have patched up your wounds. You bled out to die in such a painful and gruesome way, your savior dismissing his own set of rules; where you help him and he helps you.

Trey is guilty of your death. He didn’t cause you to die but he held a large part of an opportunity to have you with him. If he wasn’t so blinded by ignorance he would have fed you sweets as he stitched up open cuts. Ask you to leave with him far away from people, away from your abusers and live with him.

His love may hurt, but he truly loved you.

Cater

Never expected you to go so fast. It was one of his pranks that weren’t so harmless. Cater always had his cruel ideas backed up with a plan, that way you didn’t die. When you think Cater wanted you dead that just means his intentions were clear enough. He can freely express himself when making you doubt. So when you didn’t think he’d use a actual blade saw to cut your stomach up, even when it was on.

You just had to keep wiggling around, why didn’t you struggle enough, the binds weren’t tied so tightly. Cater cringes at the stench of your flesh and organs that decorated the floor and blade. He didn’t mean to have the switch turned on. How did it turn?

Cater is nothing but angry at himself and you. He wanted to scare the shit out of you and maybe cut you a little, but this will imprint his mind. There was no joy to have with your empty eyes, a hideous and grotesque sight of your lower face painted in blood. He could’ve imagined the pain of having to choke on your own blood to death.

Ruggie

You’ve ticked Ruggie off that day. Somehow his patience wore thin. It was out of character for him to snap at you so suddenly. All of his aggression forced him maul your body until it was unrecognizable. Ruggie won’t be able to control his blinding rage out of animalistic intent. One that was never meant to kill you.

He was never the type to hurt you so far. So when he finally blinks tiredly at the scene in front of him. Your blood and skin are under his nails and teeth. His tongue quickly laps up with saliva as you take over his senses. Ruggie can only shudder as he stumbles off you.

So many dirty work he’s done for Leona, he’s seen back in his homeland. Yet the look of your fucked up face with teeth and nose missing, he claws at his cheek in wonder if he’s dreaming.

Ruggie won’t be able to get you off his mind. When the evidence is cleaned and Leona assured him that he didn’t mean it; although he is also pissed. He can’t get the taste of you out of his tongue.

Floyd

He was unsupervised with you, no one knew he was coming to you to relieve his anger. After a frustrating day of work he forgets humans aren’t as thick skin.

Floyd would be stunned in the spur of things, with you choking on your own blood as he wipes it out of his mouth. Your chewed up flesh stuck to his teeth as he watch solemnly; you’re trying to stop the bleeding by pressing your shaking hands over the wound. It gushes between your fingers, making you scream in agony.

So it was up to Floyd, either to run and find his brother or Azul for help or watch you bleed to death. Which ever way would lead to your demise. Because he sits on the floor with your head on his lap. Gurgling and gasping as he plays with your face.

Floyd will watch you slowly give up, how the light in your eyes bum down to a pit of nothing. Until he can no longer hear your voice and the beating in your chest. Floyd accepts his mistakes of chewing too hard on his toys. And he bitterly hopes to find you one day again. He’s not planning on letting you go.

Vil

Vil sought this day to come. He knew his harsh reality of his obsession with you would break you into nothing but a reminder of his doings. Where Vil killed you accidentally or on purpose is up to the scenario of what happened to become of this. I’d say he’s too prideful to let you die, his suffering is yours to share.

He had thoughts of when he’d finally killed you. Be it he poisoned you to the point your skin and flesh burned way from the potion or he crushed your skull a little too forceful into a wall or counter. Either way it’ll be gruesome and painful.

Guilt won’t be on Vil’s mind. He’s in a state of peace for a while before he can start to obsess over you once again. You’re a tinted memory he holds dearly, every action done by him to further scar you for life is intentional.

You’re nothing to his eyes but something he can dream and have a nostalgic sense of feeling once in a while. As obsessions can’t always be let go, he keeps the remainder of your body somewhere safe in the depths of his home. Handmade by his truly, a doll made of porcine lays in a glass coffin.

Rook

The day Rook’s mistakes come and bites him in the ass was soon to come. He has no control over the future and how his fun little game would end. With your corpse dangling from his previously made trap. He let you wander too far in his game of hunt, and too late to prevent this from happening.

By all means, Rook is sadden. Not in a way you’d think. Like losing the goldfish you won at a festival, he ponders over you before properly figuring out on what to do next.

Carefully and thoughtfully, he takes you back to his home to behind the procedure. It’s sickening but luckily for you you’re already dead and gone to witness Rook’s deeds. Kissing your bloodied lips and chopping off limb from limb in a clean fashion. Your remains are kept safely and stored for further use, maybe if he’s ever thinking of you he’ll make you taste delicious.

[tragedybunny]

His - Astarion x F!Reader - NSFW , TW: Consensual Nonconsent

I felt in the mood for something a little spicier.

Intimacy is the greatest form of trust between the two of you, and for Astarion you gladly give up all control. Reader and Astarion engage on a bit of CNC roleplay.

You were humming as you made the bed, maybe that’s why you never heard him coming. Sloppy ,after everything you had been you were usually more aware of your surroundings than that, and now you would pay for it. The cold steel of a dagger caresses your neck. “Be a good girl, Darling, and don’t scream,” an arm wraps around your waist in an iron grip, pulling you tight against him, the predatory tone of his voice making you shiver. 

Everyone of your instincts screams to fight, and you twist in his arms, straining against him until the dagger digs into your skin, not yet piercing it though. “None of that either.” Lips ghost along your neck and you feel the faintest sting before his tongue roughly laps at your flesh, “delicious.” The arm at your waist loosens giving you breathing room, a momentary relief until that hand starts to explore your body over the thin material of your nightgown. “Wearing a thing like this, it’s almost like you wanted this to happen.” Fingers trace your collarbone, traveling along your chest to draw languid circles over your pebbled nipples, dragging along your stomach and stopping just shy of your sex. 

“Please…” you plead, squirming at the invasion.

“Impatient aren’t you?” A touch teases you through the fabric and clumsily you try to get away, accidentally pressing yourself against him only to feel his evident arousal before lunging in the opposite direction. He locks you back into place against him as you whimper, “hush now.” The low light of the candles reflects off of his blade as he drags it over your skin without cutting, down to the neckline of your nightgown. “Hmm,” he seems to consider for a moment, “I wouldn’t make any sudden movements if I were you, Pet.” The dagger digs into the material and you’re compelled to hold your breath as he slits one clean line down it, any protection torn away from you. 

The sound of the dagger sliding into a sheath is welcome until you’re met with both of his hands now free to play with you as he likes. All of your body feels his touch as he nips and kisses your neck and sensitive ears, leaving no part of you unexplored by rough attentions  until he pushes two fingers between your thighs and delves inside you. “So wet for me,” he coos in your ear. 

Face burning, you pull away, trying to flee but fingers tangling in your hair bring you to a halt as the dagger presses against you once more.  “And here I thought you were going to behave for me. Kneel.” A second’s hesitation and tightens his grip before your body gives into him, sinking to your knees. 

Switching his grip in your hair, he steps in front you, sheathing the dagger again and your eyes take him in, bare from the waist up. Platinum curls frame perfectly sculpted features, piercing red eyes bore into you, and sharp fangs peek out from his half-smile. “What to do with you,” he wonders as his hand idly begins to undo his trousers, freeing a straining erection. “Open your mouth.” 

Defeated, you comply, mouth opening obediently. He thrusts himself inside with a goan, his member brushing the back of your throat as you gag around him a bit. Gripping your face with both hands, he begins to use you with a harsh, sharp rhythm. Again and again he forces himself in your throat, while you remain pliantly on your knees. Drool drips from your lips and tears sting your eyes as you gag around him, and yet, from somewhere deep inside, a moan escapes you. “Good girl,” he purrs, pulling out after one last thrust. “Can you keep being good and get on the bed for me?” You nod silently but he’s not satisfied. “Say it.” 

“I’ll be a good girl for you,” you say, eyes downcast to the floor, completely, obediently his.

Letting go, he gestures at the bed, and you follow the command, getting on your back. Kneeling between your thighs, he pulls your arms up over your head, pinning them down. “Just in case you stop being so well behaved,” he smirks at you, and leans down to whisper in your ear, “you pretty little thing," before dragging his fangs along your neck. 

They don't puncture it, not yet anyway, but drift down and sink into the skin above your collarbone, blood appearing. He laps it up, a low growl emanating from him, before moving onto the next spot just above your breast. Tiny pin pricks, blood, a rough tongue. You lose count of how many times he repeats it, leaving you covered in blooms of red. 

Hips move, sliding the length of his cock against your slick cunt leaving you gasping. The sensation distracts you enough that you don't notice as he lowers his head to your breast, biting into the sensitive flesh around your nipple. The sound that comes from you is unholy as he takes it between his teeth, sucking at it and your free flowing blood. Eyes glance up to yours with a question, an offer to beg for him to stop. Defiantly, you stare back panting at the sensations overwhelming you. 

At your silence, he drives into you, pulling another cry from you as you lose yourself in ecstacy. Languid movements of his hips make you writhe against him, begging for more. He releases your tortured nipple to smirk at you, lips painted red with your blood. "See how badly you wanted this? You didn't need to fight me." 

The grip on your wrists vanishes but you wouldn't think of fighting him now. Fingers reach down to caress your sensitive bud, leaving you mewling as he increases his pace. Rough strokes of his fingertips build you to a crescendo as his hips relentlessly crash against yours. "That's it Love, let go." 

The world goes hazy as you reach the pinnacle, and then it nearly vanishes as those teeth finally bite down on your neck. You're gone, floating away in perfect bliss, all sound and light are dim and far away. He drinks deeply, still making use of your body as his fingers wring another orgasm from you. There's a sudden heaviness to your eyelids as a last soft moan escapes you. 

Gripping your hips he buries himself once last time and releases your neck. Then there's a weight on the bed next to you, and a hand softly stroking your back, but everything is still soft and dreamlike. "All good?" 

You turn to look at him, not quite seeing clearly. "Hmm."

Softly he strokes your face with one knuckle. "You there Sunlight?" 

Things begin to come into focus. "I'm good," you promise, not having energy for more. 

"That's my girl," he kisses your forehead, "I'll be back." 

The weight beside you vanishes and you hear the word of a spell from the other room as your eyes close. Something Gale made up you recall through the haze, keeps the bath warm for hours. Seconds later you're lifted up, pressed to Astarion's chest. "Eyes open Darling." You do as he asks and are lowered into the tub. "How's that?"

"Too much empty room," you pout. 

"I'm coming, be patient," he removes his trousers and climbs in behind you so you can snuggle against his chest. Arms gently enfold you as he kisses the top of your head. "Everything was alright?"

You know he has to ask, he always takes the best care of you, but you have to tease him a bit for worrying. "No, you ruined a perfectly good nightgown with that stunt."

"What can I say, I was impatient to get it out of my way," he tilts your face up to kiss you. “You’re amazing my love, you know that?” This is your gift to him, willingly given with perfect trust, control of both your bodies, intimacy unlike any other. 

“I know, but you can tell me again,” your eyes are shutting, but you know he has you, and that you’re always safe with each other.

[konigsblog]

soft and bashful cow hybrid reader and mean old wolf hybrid könig ugh can you imagine

love your works you're so fab🫶🫶

tw: hybrid, dub-con, non-con, dead dove: do not eat. minors will be blocked.

wolf!könig always seems to wander too far, but he can't help it; he has a great sense of smell and always seems hungry, ready to eat anything in sight.

‘til he wandered onto a farm, thinking he had hit the jackpot with all the other animals nearby. yet, he found himself hungry for something else when his great sense of sniffing led him to another hybrid, a cow-human hybrid, curled into the hay. he breathed out down your neck, huffing at the grassy scent sticking to your skin while his soft cock began to harden as he got closer. sharp claws dug their ways into your thighs, cutting and dragging them across the skin on your thighs, waking and alerting you.

you shook and trembled. you weren't expecting an awakening so fierce, with his hot and bulbous length rutting over your warm, slick heat. the quiet noises of him humping your stimulated cunt, drool coming from the sides of his mouth through hunger and delirium. he snarled and growled, baring his canines, a low and deep noise grumbling in his chest.

“you needn't hide from me.”

he spits out through a hiss, drool landing on your now revealed breasts and hardened, sore nipples as he rips the thin t-shirt covering your soft tits.

oh! and would you look at that? it seems he might've accidentally slipped inside, filling out your cunt with his thick and hard size as he continues to ease deeper into your walls. hairy and furry balls slap your ass he pants and groans gutturally, making a raw and aching mess between your thighs, hiding through embarrassment and shame as he continued with his abuse.

a bashful cow caught like a deer in the headlights. :(

[nsharks]

nightmare | simon “ghost” riley

words: 1.3k

plot: simon has a nightmare and accidentally hurts you. mostly fluff. I like fics about sad!boy simon.

tags: fem!reader, blood tw

_______

It’s not rare for Simon to wake you up with his body thrashing around and low groans leaving his lips.

No matter how many times it’s happened, it never gets less painful for you, waking up to him having a nasty nightmare in the bed beside you.

You had a routine down pat by now. You’d gently touch his shoulders, careful not to surprise him, and then coo sweet things until his eyes fluttered open and his body relaxed under your hands. You hadn’t told Simon “I love you” yet, given the ill-defined nature of your relationship with him, but you often whispered other affectionate words to get him back to sleep.

Tonight is no different.

You’ve blinked your own slumber away, groggily rubbing your eyes before realizing what was happening. He’d been home for nearly a month now, and this was only the second nightmare of his. Your heart sinks as you sit up in the bed and reach over to touch his shoulder.

Simon was equally as hesitant about taking off his clothes as he was about taking off his mask. But he’s grown more and more comfortable around you, and tonight he’s sleeping with only his grey sweats on. His scarred chest is bare. When you touch his shoulder, the skin feels cool with sweat and the muscles beneath your fingers feel tense and knotted.

You’re about to whisper his name when he suddenly shouts out yours.

“Y/N,” he speaks hoarsely, eyes still closed. He’s moved around so much that his painted balaclava has shifted against face, a piece of his hair poking out from the cut-out for his eyes.

Your eyes widen. He whimpers out your name again.

“Simon, sweetheart,” you are gentle with your words. Somehow you get the feeling this dream is worse than the ones before. Beads of sweat percolate his brow bone and his skin looks ghastly under the moonlight seeping in from the window. You swallow, throat feeling narrowed, and touch his shoulder a little firmer.

“Simon.”

This one wakes him up. His eyes fly open and he shoots straight up, knocking his head against your lip in the process. His hands grip the blanket which has bunched around his hips as he breathes heavily. You hiss an explicative under your breath, pain shooting across the spot he’d just head-butted.

“Ow.”

Touching your lip, it feels hot and damp.

Simon hasn’t even come to his senses yet. His body is still in high-alert, the muscles of his back flexing as he shoots his eyes around the room, as if surveying for any signs of danger. Under his mask, it looks like his nostrils are flaring with each heavy breath he takes.

Then, his eyes land on you.

They are wild at first. Angry and intense and almost scrutinizing. But then the sight of you holding your lip, an unassuming tear rolling down your cheek, seems to bring him back to reality. Simon’s eyes soften drastically, painted with confusion until he starts to put the pieces around him together. His body is covered in sweat. You sitting up beside him. He’s not actually being threatened. He’s in his own room, his bed, and you’re sitting there hurt because of him.

“Christ,” he whispers gruffly, swiping the back of his hand over his bleary eyes. “I did that?”

You don’t give an answer. He did and he didn’t. It was obviously an accident, but that doesn’t seem to change the way his frame turns into a visibly frustrated one. Simon closes his eyes, huffs out a breath, and then reaches for you.

“C’mon, pet, let me fix this.”

You don’t get a chance to protest before he scoops you up in his arms and carries you to the bathroom. He sets you carefully on the sink counter, your butt settling at the edge of it, as you sit there quietly and continue touching the place that he’d accidentally split your skin.

“Let me see it,” he orders lowly. He touches your hand and beckons it away from your mouth. “Fuckin’ hell, I got you good.”

The sight is bloodier than he thought, but he can already tell it’s not very deep. Puffy, a bit of a bruise forming already, but nothing he can’t fix up for you. He is quick to find the first-aid kit he keeps in the medicine cabinet, scrummaging around for a cotton pad and getting it damp under the faucet.

He’s cleaned far worse wounds before. That’s the only thing you can think about as he concentrates on touching the damp pad to your lip, collecting all the blood. How much blood has he seen? You wonder to yourself. How many times has he tended someone’s wounds like this, only for them to lose the life in their eyes moments later?

They are dark thoughts. But they are tough to ignore, even though there is a shirtless, big man standing between your parted legs as he nurses you.

“I’m sorry,” he tells you finally. Throwing the blood-stained pad away, he picks up another one. Simon has never said he loves you, the words a bit tough for him to admit, but his gentle touch seems to say it with each dab to your wounded lip. “I was dreaming, huh?”

“Nightmare,” you correct him quietly. Your eyes meet his and the memory of him calling out your name seems to stare back at you. “You… you said my name.”

“Did I?”

You nod. “Yeah,” the word barely making it out, “I know you don’t like talking about them. But just… I was in it this time, wasn’t I?”

Something flashes across his lidded eyes. Something dark, haunting, and you wish he would let you see whatever it is he is seeing.

Surprisingly, he admits, “Yeah, you were. You’re in a lot of them now days.”

He throws away the cotton pad and returns between your legs. He is observing you intently, grabbing your face in his hands and inspecting the wound he’s cleaned up. There are many thoughts that haunt him, but the thought of you hurt tops the charts. He never imagined being the cause of your pain and it makes his anger flicker dangerously, like a stubborn candle he just can’t blow out.

“I’m sorry,” he says again.

“Stop,” you shake your head. You’ve still got that lone tear on your cheek and he wipes it. “Don’t… don’t do that. Don’t get all angry at yourself for something you couldn’t control.”

Once you started saying the words, they seemed to find a way out on their own terms. Your statement hangs heavy in the cramped space of the bathroom and Simon can’t even begin to reflect on how goddamn true it is. Your words measure beyond this moment, beyond the pathetic cut on your lip, and they take him back to everything he blames himself for. Everything he carries with him, so heavy and burdensome and nightmarish.

“Simon,” you whisper, and your soft voice brings him back to the here and now.

He splays his hands on your thighs.

“Y/N.”

“You good?”

“Peachy,” he tells you, and it’s full of sarcasm, but you rather it be that than something darker.

You touch his masked cheek and whisper out a sleepy request, feeling ready to get back in bed now that the blood has stopped.

“Kiss me?” you ask.

There was a time, in the beginning of your “relationship”, where Simon kissed you sparingly. He was so hesitant, reserved. But now, sighing away the bad thoughts, Simon peels up his mask just enough to lean forward and ever so carefully kiss your injured lips. It’s soft, despite the roughness of his mouth, and it is just what you both needed before heading back to bed.

[a-reader-and-a-writer-for-all]

Burning Love

AI-Less Whumptober 2024: Day 26. Burning Fandom: MCU, Bucky Barnes, Winter Soldier, f!reader Summary: When you and Bucky are captured, HYDRA scientists try to force you to use your powers to kill him. But you refuse to hurt the man you love, regardless of how much pain it may cause you... Word Count: 2171 TW: Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Whump, Burning, Torture, Self-Sacrifice, Self-Inflicted Wounds, Laser Beams, Damaged Vision, Bucky Carries Reader, Happy Ending Notes: Thank you to @ohtobeleah for looking this over for me 💞 Part of @ailesswhumptober's event

“Doll, please, open your eyes.” The desperation in Bucky’s voice as he pleads with you breaks your heart, but it’s better than the alternative if you comply with his wishes.

You twitch your head as much as the leather restraint across your forehead will allow, your eyes squeezed tightly shut. Through gritted teeth, you grunt, “Not gonna happen, Sarge.”

The pain coursing through you is horrible, but knowing what it would do to Bucky if you gave in is enough to make it bearable—somewhat. Unlike his body, yours is more equipped to handle the damage caused by the laser beams you can shoot from your eyes. While it has taken maybe an hour to get to this point—where your eyelids and surrounding skin are charred, bubbly, and blackened like a flamed-broiled marshmallow—you would have cut through Bucky’s flesh in seconds. Which is why you are fighting so hard to protect him from your open eyes. 

“Turn it off,” a frustrated voice growls behind you. “We'll have to try something else.”

The searing sensation in your eyes disappears and you shift against the numerous restraints holding you into the metal chair. It feels so violating to have these HYDRA scientists hooking you up to their machinery, digging through your brain, and activating your beams as they see fit. You wonder if this is how Bucky used to feel back when he was the Winter Soldier.

As the scientists fiddle with the equipment behind you, you hear a tender voice call out to you. “Are you okay?”

“Right as rain,” you mumble. “How you doing, Buck?” The last thing you saw before you began forcing yourself to keep your eyes closed was Bucky being strapped into his own chair directly across from you.

“Horrible. Watching you barbeque yourself just to spare me…Doll, you can’t keep doing this. You won’t survive it much longer.”

You gave him a wry chuckle. “I’ve been accidentally burning myself with these things my entire life. I can take it.”

“For how long?” You don’t answer. “Please, look at me. I need to see you’re okay behind all of this.”

As much as you want nothing more in this world than to stare into Bucky’s loving gaze one last time, it’s not worth the potential cost. “I can’t. They could turn them back on at any second and…I can’t risk it.” 

“I’m not worth all the pain they’re putting you through. I don’t deserve this kind of sacrifice—not after everything I’ve done.”

Smiling in his direction, you whisper, “When will you stop blaming yourself for what they made you into and see the man you truly are? The man I love.”

It sounds like Bucky is about to say something else but, before he can, an angry voice from behind you barks out, “I’m tired of this game. Increase the power.”

Bucky screams, “No!”

Suddenly, the pain behind your eyes increases exponentially and the pressure within your head becomes unbareable. An inhuman screech is ripped from your lips. Something in your vocal cords snaps under the strain. You smell the faint whiff of burning hair mixed in with your cooking flesh and wonder if the last of your eyelashes have finally been seared off. Your bare toes scrap against the cold concrete as they involuntarily curl as all the muscles in your body contract. Every other part of your body is restrained by the straps holding you down, but you begin violently shaking as the tension within you becomes too great.

The small part of your mind that’s still coherent wonders if your eyes roll back into your head if you’ll fry your brain and end this torture. Maybe it is worth it to try.

You have no idea how long they keep your beams on this time—all your remaining focus and energy is on keeping your eyes closed. Bucky is screaming, crying, begging, but his voice sounds echoey and far away so you can’t make out his words. You aren’t sure what HYDRA will do to him once you’re gone, but you pray he fights them with everything he has.

Finally, the machine behind you is flipped off and your body sags against your restraints. Without them, you know you’d topple to the floor, no longer possessing the energy to hold yourself up. Everything hurts now, not just your eyes. But you’re still alive which means you aren’t done fighting.

You hear footsteps approaching and you recognize the voice of the man in charge as he curses, kicking one of the legs of your chair. “This is ridiculous. How many of you fucking idiots does it take to make her kill the Soldier? Just pry her eyes open, clamp them in place, and turn the machine back on.”

You grin weakly, feeling blood dripping down your chin where you had bit your tongue. With your ruined voice, you croak, “You can try, but the second any of you put a finger near my eyes, I’m burning it off.” 

The man beside you yanks on the restraint across your forehead, tightening it to the point you feel bones crack. You let out a soft whimper as the man growls, “Fine. We’ll turn it up to full power and leave it on. Let her burn completely through her eyelids. Then we’ll get the results we want.” You hear him turn and march away.

For the first time, your resolve wavers as a small sob bubbles up in your chest. Your body may be resistant to your beams and can repair wounds sustained from them, but it takes time. If these scientists can make you burn through your eyelids—and based on how everything is starting to look a little brighter through your closed lids, it seems like a very real possibility—then there is nothing you can do to stop them from hitting and killing Bucky. 

You hear the scientists murmuring and fiddling with equipment somewhere far behind you, but you still don’t dare open your eyes in case someone is still at the machine and flips it on the moment you look at Bucky. Yet it won’t matter for much longer if they carry out their plan. 

“Doll…” The word is whispered so low you can barely hear it.

“Buck…,” It’s hard to whisper with your ruined voice, the sound more of a croak than a real word. But you hope he can understand you with his super-soldier hearing. “I’m sorry. I-I can’t stop this.”

“I know. You’ve done so good so far.” Even in a whisper, the love in his voice feels like a comforting embrace. “But I have a plan. You just gotta trust me.” 

“I do. You know I do.” 

“Then when I tell you to open your eyes and turn on your beams, whether they’re making you or not.”

You sob, “But Bucky—”

“Trust me!” he hisses. 

“Okay…okay, I’ll do it.”

He lets out a sigh of relief. “Thank you, Doll. Whatever happens, I love you. And this isn’t your fault.”

A single tear escapes your ruined eyes and rolls down your scared cheek. “I love you too. But we both know, it is.”

Bucky doesn’t respond. However, you can hear a soft scraping and shuffling from his vicinity. Maybe he found a way to escape. Or maybe…he couldn’t be asking you to kill him. After all the pain and suffering you’d put yourself through to keep him alive, he wouldn’t have you take him out now just to end both of your pain…would he?

But you promised to trust him and you do, so when you hear him mutter, “All the way down and to the right. Now!”, you follow his instructions.

Shifting your gaze behind closed lids as far to the right and downward as they’ll go, you open your eyes and blast without a second's hesitation. 

Your beams strike Bucky in the center of his left forearm, just a few inches above his wrist. Even though it is his metal arm, you are horrified. You thought he had found a way to get you to blast open his cuffs or melt his chair, and in a way, even killing him instantly would be better than this. His vibranium arm is advanced enough that it still allows him to feel sensations such as texture, pressure, and—what concerns you in this situation—temperature and even pain. Instead of ending his life with one blast, you are now forcing him to endure the same agony you have been going through. 

As the metal begins to glow under the intense heat of your beams, you want to screw your eyes shut once more. But Bucky told you to do this and you promised to trust him. Even though he is grunting and panting because of the pain, he isn’t telling you to stop so you keep your beams focused on his arm. 

Eventually, the red-hot glow expands and soon reaches his wrist. In moments, the metal restraint liquifies and Bucky wrenches his arm free. Without having to be told, you slam your eyes shut once more.

You can hear the sounds of fighting all around you: guns firing until their clips run empty, flesh sizzling against metal followed by screams of agony, bodies being flung around the room and crashing to the floor. 

But then everything goes silent.

For a minute, nothing happens. You are just about to call out when a pair of lips press lightly against yours. Jumping slightly, you quickly recognize the kiss. You try to lean into it but the strap across your forehead holds you firmly in place. 

Parting from your lips and pressing his forehead against yours, Bucky whispers, “It’s okay. You can open your eyes now. It’s just you and me.”

Slowly, you peel your eyes open. The world is cloudy and out of focus with huge black spots obstructing your vision. And yet, there was no mistaking the person kneeling in front of you. 

Weakly, you smile. “Hi.”

“Hi,” he murmurs back.

“H-how bad?”

Bucky’s brow furrows as he runs his thumb gently around the edge of your eye socket, the now cooled metal somewhat soothing against your damaged skin. “It’s really bad, but I’m hoping it’s worse than it looks. Once you get checked out—”

“Not me,” you whisper. “How badly did I hurt you?”

You can hear the smile in his voice even though you can’t make it out. “I’ve had a lot worse. And it’s because of you that it was as minimal as it was. You should’ve just vaporized my head from the very start.” 

“Nah. I knew we’d find a way out eventually.”

“Liar,” he teases. Then, with a more serious tone, he asks, “How’s your vision? You’re blinking an awful lot and that can’t be comfortable.”

You try to think of how to describe what you are seeing. “I can see some shapes, colors, movements…that’s about it. No details. But even that’s a miracle at this point. I’ve never burned myself this badly before.”

“Will they…will they heal?”

You try to shrug but you are still strapped to the chair. “They should. They always have before. Healing the burns is tied into my powers.” You swallow and flinch at the sharp stab of pain cutting down your throat. “My voice, however, might be another story.”

Bucky gently runs his fingers down the side of your neck. “I’m sure SHIELD has some specialists who can help you. But first, we’ve got to get back to them. So let’s get you out of that chair.”

He began unlocking each of your restraints and you can’t stop a moan from escaping. Your skin had been rubbed raw where the metal dug into your skin, and your muscles ache from how tensely they had been clenched in pain. Bucky must have noticed this, because as he undoes each strap, he massages the area, loosening up the muscles enough to ease some of the tension. But every inch of you still throbs in pain. 

As Bucky unlatches the last restraint, he asks, “Do you think you can walk?”

“I’m not sure. Everything hurts. But maybe once I get going—” You try to rise from the seat but barely make any progress before collapsing back down. You look up at Bucky sheepishly. “I guess that’s a no.”

Carefully, he lifts you into his arms and carries you towards the exit. You can’t see where you’re going and the slight bobbing of your vision as he walks is giving you a headache. 

Leaning your head against his chest, you let your damaged eyes drift softly closed. Then you mutter, “I think I need to sleep for a bit. Helps my recovery time.”

You feel Bucky’s lips brush against your temple. “Rest, Doll. I’ll take it from here.”

Nodding softly, you begin slipping into a deep slumber. You are still in a lot of pain, but you don’t regret a single moment of what happened. You’d do it all again if at the end you could be safe in Bucky’s arms once more.