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bunnis-monsters · 1 day

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NSFW

Yandere!Dragon Hybrid that protects his pregnant mate with violence, ready to tear apart anyone that comes close to where they’re nesting.

He’s keeping you on his bulging cock to keep both of you warm as the snow rages on outside.

Soft purrs leave his throat, his claws running over your swollen belly as his scarlet eyes stare down at you with utter adoration. Cumming inside is the only option for him! You have to be claimed after all!

The decorations in the cave are a bit unsettling, but you get used to the human skulls and bones of unknown origin eventually.

Besides that, it’s quite beautiful, with jewels and gold glittering all around, he’s quite proud when you take notice of his hoard, and adores to ravish you when you’re wearing some of the treasure he’s collected!

Only the finest silk and softest blankets are used to build your nest, along with fabrics he’s cum all over! After all, his scent should soothe you, he’s your mate!

Defending you and keeping you safe are his top priorities. He’ll bring home his kills like a house cat bringing you a mouse, confused on why you cry and scream when he drops a mauled human in front of you.

He worked so hard to protect you, don’t you love him? Aren’t you proud? It hurts his feelings a little… but he once heard from a human that happy wife equals a happy life, so he spoils you to make up for it.

Pampering you comes at a close second on his list of priorities.

Your belly is so swollen with his child that eventually, walking becomes hard! He does everything for you. Hunting, cooking, bathing you, it’s all to show his love and utter devotion to you, his everything.

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sunnynwanda · 2 days

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Hey!! Sorry I am always in ur requests box bahaha

If you want to, could you do a story where a supervillain typically goes easy on a group of rookie heroes, as he usually fights them just for fun, and could destroy them if he wanted.

He just lets them think they can beat him.

Then, something happens (maybe they cross a line, and one of the heroes tries to stop their team from crossing that line but they don't listen) where the supervillain shows them just how powerful he actually is? ❤️❤️

Ruin

Warnings: power of destruction, grafic injuries, blood, torture (in a way?), mentions of killing.

Shadows danced across the wall, earning a dark chuckle from Supervillain. Heroes were never much of a threat, more like a bunch of bothersome and overly persistent pests that had flooded the city. The clock struck midnight a few minutes ago, but here they were - attempting to creep up on Supervillain for a surprise attack. As if.

They'd tried this tactic a multitude of times, none of them were a proper attack or even a surprise.

Amateurs.

Superillain sighs in exasperation, pulling his gloves on to avoid fatally wounding anyone just as two masked heroes appear in front of him.

"Evening," Supervillain's smirk is met by two identical scowls. "To what do I owe the pleasure tonight?"

One of the heroes growls, speaking through gritted teeth. "You're under arrest. Surrender."

Supervillain cocks an eyebrow at the pair, holding back a laugh. Holding back was something he had to do on a daily. And he was growing tired of it. "You think it's going to be that easy? There's only two of you."

"Two is more than enough to contain you," the other hero speaks up, their expression as sour as their friend's. This time, Supervillain fails to hide his laugh. This seems to make his rivals' blood boil over. "We will destroy you."

You think you can? Supervillain thinks but keeps his lips sealed shut as he nods, deep in thought. Wish you knew how badly I want to unleash my power.

But he could not. They were kids. If he didn't know better he'd think the city council sent them on purpose. To test Supervillain's patience or to provoke him. Until he slips up. Until he does something unforgivable. Until he falls prey to the cruel scheme. Supervillain can find no other explanation for sending rookies to fight him, of all villains. It was a death wish. A clear one. How could anyone expect them to conquer a supervillain who has destruction spewing out of his fingertips?

"Cut it out and go home," Supervillain runs a gloved hand over his face, shutting his eyes for a moment. He can tell something is off because they always attack in four and stick together. So where are the other two? "You're just kids."

Someone lets out a bark of a laugh behind him, but there's nothing light about it. Supervillain turns his head, glancing over his shoulder - only to freeze in place. His eyes widen, lips pressing into a thin line when his gaze lands on the sleeping form of his younger brother. He looks peaceful in the arms of one of the heroes, but Supervillain... Supervillain is anything but peaceful.

"How dare you..?" He cuts off, not even finishing his thought when he sighs, determination setting in. That's one too many lines crossed.

"Guys," the youngest of the heroes speaks up, their voice weak and shaking. "Guys, seriously. This isn't fair."

Supervillain can't help throwing them a glance, taking note of their scrunched eyebrows and trembling lips. The heroes ignore their friend entirely.

"Oh, we dare," one of them responds to Supervillain's question, sadistic sarcasm lacing their tone. "You will surrender to us."

"Still think we're kids?" The other one chimes in, snickering at the thought. Oh, Supervillain doesn't see rookies or kids anymore. Now, he sees enemies.

He knows what he does to enemies.

"Guys, please..." The same hero pleads, their eyes full of tears. Supervillain almost smiles at them.

"Shut it," another sneers, irritation colouring their features. They turn to Supervillain with a self-satisfied smirk. "If you want your brother to remain unharmed, you'll get on your knees and beg for it."

"You're taking this too far!" Their friend laments, despair overtaking their otherwise delicate features.

Don't you worry, little one, I'll wreck them.

"Return him to me," Supervillain demands, rage flaring to life in the depths of his eyes. His voice is hoarse from restraint as he battles his inner demon for every second of delay. "Now."

"Make us," the one holding up the sleeping kid snorts, grinning in the most smug way possible.

I will ruin you, Supervillain thinks, I'll completely obliterate you.

"If you can, that is," another hero scoffs. Supervillain glares at them with narrow eyes, pressing his lips together until they turn white. He can feel the piercing coldness of his wrath coursing down his limbs towards his trembling hands.

"Oh, I can just fine," Supervillain hisses, slowly pulling at one of his gloves, watching it slide off his blackened fingers. He sends the youngest hero a glance - a warning of sorts, before lunging forward.

His fingertips graze the forearm wrapped around his little brother, making it weak enough to let the kid slip down from their hold. The hero lets out a low groan, not quite registering the source of the pain yet. Supervillain's movements are quick, he brushes his fingers over the side of the hero's thigh - the sharp jolt brings them down to their knees with a choked cry - just in time for Supervillain's brother to land safely on the ground.

The two heroes behind his back seem to snap out of it, jumping onto his back and taking Supervillain into a chokehold with one of his arms pinned to his side. Unlucky for heroes, they restrain the gloved one.

Supervillain sees the youngest hero take his little brother into their arms, stepping away from the fight, their eyes wide with fear. Their knees are buckling under them at the horrifying sight that plays out, so they lean against a nearby wall.

Supervillain mouths a 'thank you' before bringing his free hand up and dragging his fingers along the arm around his throat. The hero screams in agony, their eyes watering at the sudden pain as they watch their arm turn stiff and black. "What the f-"

Supervillain doesn't wait for them to finish, twisting around and pressing his open palm to the other hero's stomach. They bend over in an instant, clutching their middle and coughing out dark clots of blood.

"What the fuck? Is that what you wanted to ask?" Supervillain asks, tilting their head to the side as they watch their enemies on the ground, wallowing in the unfamiliar ache that's taken over their bodies, their flesh twisting and turning into something akin to coal.

When no words come from them, Supervillain lets out a dark chuckle, crouching to be face-to-face with them. Grabbing one of the heroes by the chin, he sneers. "This is becoming radically boring. Answer me."

"H-how?" The hero tries to jerk away, tears springing from their eyes as they wheeze through every inhale. Supervillain's fingers are cold against their clammy skin.

"Fuck, it hurts so much..." Another one whimpers out, wiping at their eyes and biting into their lip to suppress a groan. The ache subsides agonisingly slow.

"I know. That's the point, darling," Supervillain smiles, forcing them to meet his gaze with a finger under their chin. "The worse, the better."

The heroes nod, trying to muster up a sliver of courage. They don't manage, because their friend is the first to speak.

"Stop! Please. Please, stop now," they plead, coming to their knees next to Supervillain, his brother still in their arms. "Here. He's safe. Still sleeping."

Supervillain stares at them for a moment, considering his following words. "I won't end them. Solely for you."

The hero's shoulders drop in relief, waiting for Supervillain to pull his glove on before passing his brother to him.

"Will they... will they be okay?" They ask, concern lacing their tone. Supervillain nods shortly, and the hero almost smiles. "Thank you."

"Now you know why no one dares to cross me." Supervillain informs, clutching his brother to his chest as he stands. "I advise to make use of that knowledge."

With that, Supervillain walks away, leaving the hero to tend to his injured friends while he carries his brother back home.

Supervillain knows this won't be the end of it. He knows a new group of shockingly young heroes will be sent after him sooner that these can heal. He knows they are nothing but brainwashed martyrs.

He also knows the only way of stopping this madness is chopping off the head of the snake.

A/N: Hi! First and foremost, thank you so much for this request! My mind was reeling when I first read it. Never say sorry for requesting, I love doing your requests! This one was extremely inspiring, as always, so... thank you for sharing your amazing mind 💛✨️ I'm not entirely happy with the way this turned out, but I still hope you'll enjoy reading this.

Love you, guys :)

xo Sunny

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anshiiiiin · 1 day

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cw: face guro, injury, blood, gore

a little thought exercise about valya meeting nikolay! they are in love

#anshin nikolay #anshin valya #anshin comic #cw gore #cw violence #cw blood

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chrollohearttags · 6 months

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we don’t talk about plug!eren, who is the perfect gentleman. The one who holds doors open for you, great manners with your folks, best friends with your younger siblings and cousins, your homegirls love him and just an all around good dude. The one who would drive clear across town in the middle of the night to get your favorite snacks, the one who’d hear you stressing and talking about some bill or expense you have and quietly go take care of it. “I already told you, don’t worry ‘bout that, mama. It’s handled.” Or the one who never exposes you to his lifestyle because it’s the last thing his princess needs to concern herself with. He’s so sweet, kind and loving..one would never guess he wouldn’t hesitate to kill a dude who shorted him on his money or supply. Or that just shortly before coming home to you, he probably beat someone unconscious for trying to set him up on a lick. You wouldn’t know a thing..not when he quietly slides into bed, where you’re lying flat on your stomach, in nothing but a t shirt, bonnet and panties, waiting for him to slide them off while he kisses down your spine. Muttering in your ear to just stay still and let him take care of you. “You awake, mama? I missed you..” In the deepest gruff as he delicately touches your skin, appreciating every inch. And you realize just how much he does when he spreads you open from behind, gripping your asscheeks and planking firmly on top you as he feeds you deep, passionate strokes. Slowly drilling you..with those sweet whimpers underneath him. You didn’t even have to move an inch, all he needs you to do is keep moaning and let him claim that beautiful pussy. That spot opening up so nicely after a couple thrusts. His tattooed hand and gold watch placed at the small of your back to keep you pinned down. “Mmm…just like that, baby. You ain’t gotta do shit..daddy got you.”

and he always will take such good care of his girl.

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tojisun · 27 days

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“ghost,” price’s voice rumbles in his ear, the faint static almost breaking through his focus. there’s a familiar cadence in his captain’s voice, one that drags against simon’s body in miasmic waves—it is, after all, nothing short of a warning. still, none of it matters, and simon continues to march on.

“the mission–”

“stopped being my priority,” simon replies, cutting him off.

there was nothing but a crackle. a quiet whirring. then, “you know this is not what they would want.”

he grunts. “good thing they’re not here then.”

simon slinks into the shadows, ducking underneath the balcony, his eyes frantic as he scans the parameters. it’s safe. quiet. too quiet, in fact.

“location?”

“south of the chapel,” gaz replies with no hesitation. simon hums to himself—price must’ve shifted his directives too, then.

“roger.”

he moves, his boots crunching against the gravel and filling up the dead passage way with just enough noise. there’s still a whole lot of suspicious inactivity, one that makes the hairs on the back of his neck rise up, but he doesn’t get to dwell on the thought anymore. not when a loud bang rips through the silence.

his breath stutters, mind racing—that sound came from the shed.

his legs tense, muscles rippling.

“shots fired!” he reports before he leaps, devouring the vast space between himself and the sounds of scuffling. prayers form on the tip of his tongue, racing down his throat like scalding water.

he’s not even a religious man, but dear gods–

simon passes around the chapel, eyes cataloguing the lit rooms inside what he was told to be a desolate building, before tearing through the wooded shed. he knows he should’ve searched the area for any threat, should’ve probably waited for backup, but simon’s been running on overdrive, his emotions piling. spilling.

he tears the door open, guns poised for easy aim. only–

simon’s body buckles, throat constricting with the words he wishes he can say. but there is nothing else to be said. nothing but thank you’s.

because there, standing in the middle of the chaos, bloody and wounded and banged up to hell, is you. you weren’t even taken for that long but look how much they did to you. they hurt you.

your feet are soaked with blood, your boots and socks having been stripped off of you as though a part of their attempts at making you incapable of leaving. your face is swollen. marked up. cuts trace from the angle of your jaw to the side of your temple, leaving blood to trickle down to your neck, staining your tee. the gash doesn’t look deep, but maybe that’s all the blood covering the actual extents.

simon forces himself to breathe. to stay still.

(everyone has their own triggers, that’s what they were first told when laswell brought you to them.

“remember theirs and be careful,” she said before a pleased smile tugged at her lips. “mommy’s bringing home a new littermate. aren’t you all glad?”

the meeting ended there, just as johnny opened his mouth to complain. price passed around your file and simon memorized every line that night—your tell, your preferred gun, your morning beat.

somehow, he thinks that maybe that night was when his devotion to you started.)

simon watches—he’s always been watching you since the day that you arrived—as you compose yourself. the m9 is still gripped so tightly in your trembling fist, the metal quietly creaking at the pressure. it fills up the space in tandem with your ragged breaths, and he knows you’re still there, trapped in the depths of your mind.

alone. angry. scared.

“status?” price asks.

simon licks his lips. “unstable.”

he hears the faint crackle of johnny cursing from the other end of the line, and simon gets him. he really does. but he thinks they also just don’t understand.

you’re here. alone. alive.

your spiral is just proof of that. proof that even in your loneliness, amidst the pain, you clawed your way to survival.

simon hopes you two were back home—the barracks have been home for years now—so he can reward you. sweetly. fully. you deserve all that and more. deserve to be devoted on. to be adored. to be revered.

you were always beautiful, of course, but there is something sacred in seeing you like this: bloodied, angered, victorious.

he prays that your wounds will turn to scars, if only to give him a map of where to press his kisses from now on.

“ghost?” you finally mutter, and it tears simon from his thoughts. your voice is a weak rasp, like you’ve been parched for eons, and despite that, it spills the tension from simon’s body, his muscles loosening up at finally seeing you return to the topside.

he wants to say your name. he wants to sound it out—aren’t names made to be chanted like prayers, anyway?—but he reels himself in and mutters your callsign instead. the name tumbles from his mouth with the desperation and the worry smothered under the guise of grace.

your lips twitch up in an attempt at a smile. they don’t really get to make it much because of the gash running down the corner of your mouth. still, it makes simon stumble over his feet until he is rushing past corpses and sliding into your space.

“can i–”

he doesn’t even get to finish asking before you’re falling into his arms, tucking in your bruised face carefully on the crook of his neck. he takes your bulk in his embrace, folding you to himself, before he rests his chin on the top of your head.

you fist at his vest, your other hand still tight on the m9, and simon can’t really blame you. even he still feels exposed to any danger from in and out of this shed even when you’ve taken out all of the enemies. so he holds you close and holds you tight, knowing every second is sacred.

he breathes you in, taking in the scent of the leather, gun powder, and iron. it all feels familiar to him; it all smells like you.

simon nuzzles the smooth part of his mask over your temple. then, “let’s go home?”

you shift until you’re peering up at him, and simon takes this as the chance to catalogue the extent of your wounds. his lips purse at finally seeing the gash; you would probably need stitches.

“okay,” you finally reply. your eyes wrinkle as you attempt to smile. “thanks for comin’ back f’r me.”

“always,” simon murmurs, feeling choked up as his exhaustion finally catches up on him. “y’know that, right?”

you hum, nodding, and that was that.

#simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley #cod x reader #cw guns #cw violence #suns #sooooo idk where this came from or why i even wrote it but ALAS

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kaban-bang · 1 month

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#feminism

#csm #chainsaw man #csm spoilers #cw violence

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ghosts-and-glory · 4 months

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Content warning for cartoon depictions of gore, violence and body horror.

Full comic page under the cut

Another case of I got lost in the sauce and the visual style on the corpses is very different. Trying to design the invertebrate bones, especially Shamura’s, made me feel like I’m the idiot at the spirit Halloween building the nonsense animal skeletons.

I’m so very close to getting to the part of this where I actually started drawing. This has lowkey turned into a character study on Narinder and Shamura.

First // Previous // Next

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emilybeemartin · 4 months

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Boromir Lives AU: Panic! At the Ballroom

Got some new soup for you.

CW! PTSD, panic attack, crowds, physical violence, blood, smoking

It's, uh, less cute soup than some of the others.

The last panel is a nod to when I was having regular panic attacks a few years ago, and the only thing that helped was lying on the floor, the colder and harder the better. At night I would lie in bed and feel like I was drowning in the blankets, until finally I'd move to the bare floor, sometimes with weight on my back, until I eventually fell asleep.

Anyway! Surprisingly this actually came from a very happy and lovely fic in which Boromir has a delightful time; in writing a crowd scene, though, I figured having spent 40+ years training to die in battle, he'd never shake the PTSD. It's okay, Aragorn can spot it coming a mile away. Hard to prep for a crushed windpipe delivered by 250 pounds of war trauma, though. Happy Thursday!

Boromir Lives: Helm's Deep

Boromir Lives: Whump-Time After Pelennor

Boromir Lives: GO TO SLEEP

Boromir Lives: Aragorn's Coronation

Boromir Lives: Faramir and Eowyn's Wedding

Boromir Lives: It's a BABY

Boromir Lives: High Uncle of the White Tower

Boromir Lives: We Didn't Have a Choice

Boromir Lives: The Haircuts

#boromir lives #boromir #aragorn #lord of the rings #tolkien #cw ptsd #cw panic attack #cw violence #cw smoking

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forbidden-sunlight · 5 months

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yandere!Alastor with gender-neutral!tinkerer!reader headcanons

Warning: obsessive behavior, implied violence, stalking, implied manipulation, and knowledge based on the 2019 pilot episode.

There may be possible triggers in this story.

If you do not feel comfortable venturing any further, please hit the 'back' button on your device or computer and read something much more pleasant than a possible series of unfortunate events.

You are responsible for your own Internet consumption!

If you would like to read the SFW version of these headcanons, there are some written by @isuckatwritingsobenice. I will leave the link to them here.

Special thanks to @isuckatwritingsobenice, @angelltheninth, and @ceoofdabicorpsensfw for providing feedback and helping me shape up these headcanons into what they are today, my first Hazbin Hotel fic in quite a long time!

If you would like to me to keep up the momentum and write more for Hazbin Hotel or Helluva Boss, please let me know via a request or in the comments section below!

With that being said, sit back, relax, and enjoy the show! :)

Alastor is someone who thrives on entertainment. Seeing the scourge of Hell striving to redeem themselves in Charlie’s hotel, only to fail as soon as they gave into the vices they’ve been trying to cure themselves of? That’s the only reason he agreed to help the princess with her passion project. He needed some inspiration after lacking it for so many decades!

He will not fall for someone who is naive and oblivious to the dangers that lurk around every corner. His preference for a darling is someone who is intelligent, yet malleable to his manipulative machinations, though he would call it being a considerable gentleman.

So, imagine his surprise when you, the maintenance operator Charlie had hired during the hotel’s open house after being thoroughly impressed with your resume, piqued his interest. He had heard that you were very good at repairing broken things. Whatever it was that needed to be fixed, you could do it efficiently and with a smile.

The only thing you would not touch, however, were Angel’s sex toys. He found you at Husk’s bar, whining and clutching what looked like a purple cucumber with a white handle, coated in….an unknown substance. You looked at it, then back at Angel, confused and blinking owlishly at him. You asked him to hold it up in the light so you could see it, just don’t let it touch you because…well, you really did not want to.

The adult film star did, and you tilted your head to the side, staring at it for a moment before pulling away.

“It should be an easy fix.” You said. “Do you think it is a higher priority than preventing the hotel from being flooded with water?” You asked, glancing up at him. The genuinity in your voice as you spoke to him, curious and asking if fixing his device is really more important at the moment, made Alastor chuckle from the shadows. Dear ol’ Husker looked like he was about to keel over from laughter too~!

“If it’s an easy fix like ya say it is, then yes!” Angel whined. “I need it fixed by tomorrow! Can ya maybe work on it, like, after you make sure this place doesn’t get flooded?”

You blinked. “That shouldn’t be an issue. Okay. Did you try looking for the manual in the box it came in?”

“There’s a manual for it in there?!”

You nodded. “There should be. Or at least a phone number for customer service.”

Oh, such dialogue between two unique characters brightened Alastor’s mundane afternoon considerably and deepened his interest in the ever diligent and mild-mannered sinner who never seemed to stop working!

He watched you from the shadows, learning about your likes and dislikes and your….relationships with the others, clients and hotel staff alike. None of which, as he has seen, never went beyond the boundary of polite professionalism. Imagine his surprise when his shadow discovered your daily ritual to lock yourself in the maintenance office and curl up on the couch in there for an hour nap, and how you cannot sleep without the vintage radio on your desk being played on low volume. As much as he wanted to sweep you off of your feet with a night around the city and a lovely candlelit dinner, Alastor could not act too recklessly. That wasn’t how his mother raised him. No, no, no, he was a gentleman!

And a gentleman knows how to bide his time in the art of courting. Expect him to flood your office with bouquets, expensive gifts, and a request to personally fix his microphone even when it was working just perfectly.

Who knows? Perhaps while you’re sleeping soundly, in your office or in your bedroom, he will turn the knob of your radio just a little to the left so it is the music of his radio station that fills the silence. Think of it as….insurance. With the magic he possessed as an overlord, it wouldn’t be too much of a stretch to comprehend that he did care about you in his own way. And he would like to think you will, in time, come to enjoy his music with a smile.

After all, you’re never fully dressed without one!

Bonus Content

If you accept his courtship, Alastor’s possessiveness will reach to the point where he will absolutely insist that you should move into his quarters and share the bed. For his peace of mind and your own protection.

After all, you’re his precious little doe. He wouldn’t want anything to happen to you in this cesspool~.

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