Latest Posts by y2klonelyg1rl - Page 4

thank you for Enzo Vogrincic

pero que guapura de hombre por diossss

Some cute Syzoth headcanons 🦎

A cuddly boi. Filled with affection that is just waiting to be released. Once he finds the right person to love, they will be smothered in his love.

He's a biter. Both in and out of bed. It's totally affectionate. Sometimes he will just see you and be filled with so much love he just glomps. You're wearing a tank top and exposing your shoulder? Chomp. You're bending over and your ass is in the air? Chomp. You're cuddling with his head on your chest and your boob/pec is right in front of his face? Chomp. He's just a chompy boi.

He likes to 'nest'. While he will sleep in a normal bed, he prefers to build a nest from pillows, cushions and blankets. And if you want to sleep in his nest with him, he will go crazy with happiness.

If he could, he would be naked 24/7. He doesn't really understand humans obsession with covering up (a lesson he learned after he found he could shape shift) , but he will respect it and wears clothes in front of others. But when he's at home, the clothes are gone. He will be delighted if you would indulge him and be nude with him. It also makes it easier to lead to other things 👀

Obsessed with how soft his S/O is. He prefers his mates on the thiccer, chubbier side (a little part of his animal brain telling him they make good mates) so he can cuddle and grab them whenever he sees them. Loves to bury his head in your chest and tummy.

He does the gator rumble when he's happy. It can be pretty scary the first time he does it, especially if you aren't expecting it. But sometimes when he's with you, he gets so happy or excited, he just can't help it. 🐊

His reptile form may be huge and intimidating, but don't be fooled! With you he is basically a big scaly puppy. He will let you pet him and explore him as much as you want, he will literally roll onto his back for you. LOVES it when you brush his scales with a scrubbing brush. He will do happy wiggles when you brush his scales, especially on his back. This leads to lots of rumbles too!

In conclusion, this man has so much love to give, so please give him all that love back!

Ok so if Kuais thighs, whats Tomas and Bi-Hans 🎤

Mmmmm these are just my opinions <3 BUT

Bi-Han like thighs as well but also huge ass man vibes ngl. He likes fucking from behind to see the way your ass jiggles every time he thrusts inside. His hands would grope and pull at your flesh, he'd hold you open just to watch the way you grip him while he fucks into you,,,,,,,, hnfg

Tomas,,, me thinks likes you wholly but would have an obsession specifically with your pussy itself,,,, he would eat you out over your underwear, he'd keep your underwear. Tomas would like making you cum in your panties just so he could keep them for later (i think i got off topic) he'd burry his face in your cunt for hours if you let him

Thank you for coming to my ted talk 🫶🏻

Ok but have we considered you having a succubus mark and Bi-Han just fucking using you as his own personal cum dump anytime he feels like it knowing he can’t get you pregnant? He’s so god damn determined though:

“You and this magic can resist me all you want but we both know I’m going to win,” he groans loudly, the echoing of flesh on flesh ringing obscenely in his stone chambers.

You’re teetering on the edge of insanity and hypothermia unable to count how many times the cryomancer has come inside you. You can barely breathe as he forces you to cum for him again, your walls clamping almost painfully tight around his perfect cock pistoning in and out of your dripping hole. “Bi-Bi-Han,” you whine breathlessly as pleasure floods your body and suddenly warms you as if awakening you from your frozen slumber. Your body twists and convulses under his as you drift in a half conscious sea of pleasure.

His hand presses against the mark, his cold resolution icing it over, “that stupid cunt thinks she can deny me my birthright? Not in a million years, curse or no curse I will fill the Lin Kuei with my heirs,” Bi-Han groans through gritted teeth before finally stilling in your warmth, his short nails digging into your skin like tiny daggers as you’re flooded with his cold release. His handsome face is curled in a scowl as he utters his dark promise to you and the night.

How you wished to give him what he desired, yearned to be rid of this curse but there was nothing you could do other than try and sate his desires as best as you were able.

Should I flesh this out more? I was inspired by watching my partner play Baldur’s Gate 3 and got to thinking what if Bi-Han was in love with a reader who was cursed by a succubus?? I’d love some feedback 🙏

Omg I have a THEODORE NOTT request for you

Super duper angst hurt comfort

Theo’s dad basically hurts the reader and sends her back to Theo as a warning to stay away from such mudbloods and its just heart wrenching guilt and hurt and tending to her wounds through treat

Song: Half a Man by dean lewis perhaps?

I already have.

✩Theodore Nott x Reader (request)

Summary: The one where Theo has the one person he loves the most hurt by his worst nightmare. Alternatively: He thinks he’d rather die than see you in pain.

A/N: I DID MANAGE TO DO IT BY TODAY!!! I’ll be responding to the next few requests soon. You said comfort but didn’t specify a happy ending 😺

Warnings: Mentions of Abuse, blood.

Theodore Nott never expected to fall in love.

It seemed rather bleak for him, to be honest. He didn’t have the time to think about love when he was too busy wrapped up in navigating the life he had ahead of him.

One couldn't blame him though. With his family as the only example of what love could be, he certainly didn't have a good impression.

Theodore could recall a single time when he had seen his father treat his mother with kindness or respect.

Let alone love? A truly laughable notion.

Theodore's father had not shown a single ounce of love to his wife, or Theodore. Even on that godforsaken day when Theodore had witnessed his mother die, his father had simply delivered a swift strike to his face and told him to ‘man up.’

So to put it simply, The absence of love in his family cast a shadow over his perception of relationships, making it difficult for him to fathom the idea of falling in love himself.

Then you came.

You came, and god, Theodore doesn't remember how he lived without you. It wasn’t a whirlwind love, a sort of fell fast and hard, rather you entered his life like a slow and steady rain, seeping through the foundations of Theodore's life till you had consumed them completely, crumbling them down against his own will.

It rained, and you became the quiet storm, soft yet unyielding.

Love came like the easiest thing when he met you. It wasn't foreign, or a distant concept; instead, it felt like the most natural and effortless occurrence in Theodore's life. Love with you was as simple and uncomplicated as breathing, a seamless rhythm that he hadn't known was missing until you came along.

You were more than shocked when Theodore admitted he didn’t think he could ever fall in love. The boy, who loved you as though he was born to (he argues he was), who would so tenderly kiss your forehead and hold your hand, not capable of love? The one who would leave his coat for you during the winter months and bring a spare scarf because, he knew you were stubborn, and he was worried you'd get sick, not deserving of love?

You kissed him deeply and made him swear he'd never think of that ever again.

You reminisced on Theodore like some sort of lovesick fool separated by war from their lover, though it was merely only the summer holidays. Whilst Theodore would want nothing more than to come with you, his father demanded his presence back at home. You knew little about Theodore's mother, and even less about his father. Anything leading up to a conversation about them would simply result in Theodore immediately redirecting the conversation, becoming a tad more guarded for the next day or so.

It’s not that he didn’t trust you, because he wholeheartedly did. He would place his beating heart in your hands even if you had a knife in the other, for he trusted you that much.

No, in fact, it was the very opposite. Theodore knew you, and he refused to let you ever get involved in that part of his life. He swore he would never let his father even lay his eyes on you.

He would have loved for his mother to have met you. He doesn't remember her that well, but he's sure, some sort of instinctive feeling within him, that she would have loved you.

You had been back in Hogsmeade a mere 2 days before school had started, to stockpile on some supplies for school.

Students were permitted to start returning to Hogwarts three days before school began, and you would always go back early, valuing having the near-empty castle. It meant you could settle back into a school routine comfortably, and have some time alone before school resumes.

It also gave you time to do stuff for Theodore. You didn't know much about what went on at his house, but assuming from the way he’d come back absolutely exhausted with bags under his eyes, you figured it wasn't good.

It seemed to be the same routine almost every time you'd come back - he comes over to your dorm (luckily for you, all your dormmates essentially lived in their boyfriend's dorms, as they were all friends with one another, so you had it all to yourself 99% of the time). He’d kiss you hello and wordlessly take off his shoes and jacket. You’d lie on your bed and he’d come lie on top of you, wrapping his arms around your waist. He would rest his head on your chest, the sound of your heartbeat soothing him, as he listened to you talk about your holidays till he fell asleep, feeling safe for the first time, unburdened by his worries.

He’d sleep, and you'd trace the furrow of his brow. You ached for the ability to just, alivieate him of everything he carried so close to him. But you knew that healing was a long journey, and you'd be there for him on the way.

You wander around a little bookstore, finding a book for you and Theodore to read. You paid for the copy, turning to leave the shop when you bump into a man.

You quickly offered a polite apology, even though his cold gaze and disdainful demeanour sent a chill down your spine.

Those eyes. They were oh so familiar to the very striking eyes of the boy you so loved. Come to think of it, the hair was the same too. Was this…..

"Watch where you're going, girl," he spat, his voice dripping with disdain

You clenched your jaw, swallowing the anger that threatened to surface. Keeping your composure, you replied evenly, "I apologize if I inconvenienced you, sir."

His eyes then flickered to the books in your hands, a sceptical look crossing his face. "You are a student at Hogwarts? What year?" he sneered.

You took a deep breath before responding, "Final year, sir."

Seeing an opportunity to shift the dynamics, you gestured towards Theodore's family resemblance. "You must be Theodore's father. The resemblance is striking."

His eyes narrowed, and he asked with an air of suspicion, "How do you know Theodore?"

You hesitated for a moment but decided to be honest. "We're dating."

Theodore's father raised an eyebrow, a mix of surprise and derision on his face. "Dating, are you?" he scoffed. "Tell me, girl, who are your parents? Perhaps I've heard of them."

A small smile tugs at your lips as you shake your head, responding. "I doubt you would know them. They're Muggles."

His expression darkened, and a look of pure contempt appeared on his face. "Muggles? Muggles?" He snarls, taking a step closer to you.

Theodore's father's face contorted with disgust, and his voice dripped with venom as he continued, "You, a pathetic Muggle, dare to pollute my son's bloodline? You're nothing but filth, tarnishing the Nott family name with your presence."

You felt a surge of anger and fear. This is what Theodore was trying to keep from you. That his family were prejudiced against your very existence.

Without warning, he roughly grabbed your arm, his grip tightening painfully. The pain shot through you, and you winced.

"Listen closely, Mudblood," he hissed, tightening his hold. "You're nothing more than a passing fancy for my son. If you have any sense, you'll sever ties with him before you bring further shame upon yourself."

Without a second to let you answer, he releases his grip on you, spinning on his heel as he storms out of the store. It takes you a second to recuperate and process what the fuck had just gone on before you turn and quickly dash out of the store, trying to catch a glimpse of his father. Sure enough, you spot him disappearing down a narrow alley.

Before you can stop to think, you chase after him, shouting as you do.

“Hey!” You snap, closing in on the distance.

Theodore was correct in one thing. He knew you well. And he knew that if you ever knew of his father, you’d get involved.

His father’s long black cloak billowed behind him, disappearing down a narrow alleyway that seemed to swallow his wrath. Fueled by a mixture of hurt and anger, you hurried after him, determined to address the injustice he had just unleashed.

Desperation laced your anger-fuelled shouts as you closed the distance. His brisk pace showed no signs of slowing, and as you reached out to grab his arm, the narrowness of the alley made it easy for him to turn around swiftly.

"How dare you touch me, you wretched Mudblood!" he hissed, his eyes ablaze with hatred.

Before you could react, he unleashed a hex.

It hit you with an intensity that sent a shockwave of pain radiating through your body. The force of the curse flung you backwards, and you collided with the cold stone wall, gasping for breath. A searing pain radiates throughout your body, and you cough, looking down. It was akin to some sort of slash, as though he had hit you with an invisible thing, a clean cut on your thigh, and arm. You see a drop of blood drip down onto your skirt and, dazed, bring your hand up to your face. You feel something wet, and when you pull your hand back it has a crimson red glistening on your fingertips, and-

oh.

There was a cut on your face too.

As you steadied yourself, you felt the searing pain intensify, a burning sensation spreading from the point of impact on your arm. Theodore's father approached with a malevolent satisfaction etched across his face. He looms over you, glaring down at you.

"You'd do well to heed my warning, Mudblood," he sneers, his voice low and menacing. "Stay away from my son, or next time, the consequences will be even more severe."

He cast a disdainful glance at your injured form before straightening up, his dark cloak billowing as he walked away without a second thought.

You took a deep breath, shuddering as you braced your palms against the cobblestone floor of the alleyway. You push yourself up, wincing as you try to ignore the throbbing pain in your body as you gingerly get up.

You gather your scattered belongings and look around, seeing nothing but the near-empty village. Summoning every ounce of strength, you began to limp back towards the castle, the weight of humiliation pressing down on your shoulders.

You felt exposed. The idea that Theodore had hidden such a massive thing from you, made you feel all the more humiliated.

You keep your head down and soon enough appear at Hogwarts. It doesn't give you the happiness it usually does, rather you just want to go back to your room and change, and sleep.

It was at this moment that you were rather glad that you decided to come back early, for you can only imagine the looks you'd get if it was packed full of students.

Exhausted, and simply just over it, you make your way up to the dorm. There are only two other students you spotted on the way, but they were far too busy snogging the daylights out of one another to notice you.

It reminded you of…

Theodore.

How would you face Theodore? Did you want to face Theodore?

No, you resolved, you didn’t. You couldn't comprehend keeping such a key detail from someone, let alone the person you loved. Why he did that to you, you’d never understand.

You unlock your dorm room door, dropping your bag at the door, You look up and to your utter confusion, see Theodore sitting on your bed. He looks up at you, the smile on his face very quickly replaced with a deep frown.

He gets up, and-

oh.

Never mind.

You did want to be near him.

You really wanted to be near him.

It was stupid really. You didn’t feel like crying at all, but the second you saw Theodore, that feeling very quickly resolved into the urge to bury your face into your chest, and not stop.

So you did.

Theodore's arms envelop you, and he holds you impossibly tight. He swears every sob that comes from you chips away at his being and he soothes you, rubbing your back as he holds you.

Theodore can count the number of times he's felt pure anger on one hand. Sheer rage. The type that consumes you from the inside out. Once when he was 8, and his mother passed away. He remembers hearing his father disregard the whole thing with such cruel indifference he felt as though a fire was blazing him from the inside out. As with many young wizards his age, he did not know how to control this magic.

He ended up setting fire to the library that day.

The second time, in 1st year, when Alicia Thornsby had made a cruel remark about Theodore’s home life.

“Well, my mother said that Theodore must have a horrible holiday. What, with his father being-” She starts, but she didn’t get to finish.

The teachers couldn’t comprehend under what vindication a child learnt a stinging hex strong enough to permanently mar the skin of the girl, but it was the first and last time anyone dared utter a word against Theodore.

That was the 2nd, and last time Theodore had felt unbridled rage, in his 18 years of life.

That was, until today.

Because, the sight of you, with blood on your cheek, sobbing into his chest, was enough to reignite that dormant flame of anger within Theodore.

“Who?” He manages to utter, voice strained.

You remain quiet, the silence punctuated by the occasional sniffle as you remain hidden in his chest.

He pulls back, lifting your chin. Your eyes are fixated on where the once-dried blood had washed onto his shirt, and he is fixated on you.

“Who?” He emphasises again, his eyes flickering down to the cut on your face. He runs his finger gently along the cut, and when he watches you wince he pauses, a flicker of pain crossing his face. The sight of you wincing, even at his gentle touch, shatters something within Theodore.

You hesitate before you speak, but ultimately, the words slip out of your mouth.

“Your father.”

The weight of those two words, "Your father," hung in the air, and for a moment, Theodore felt as if the very ground beneath him had crumbled.

His eyes widen momentarily, and he can't speak.

No, because there's a horrible feeling of fear, guilt, regret, perhaps a combination of all three, and it's lodged in his throat. It’s almost suffocating him, he can barely breathe, and it's constricting his airways.

The image of you, the person he held dearest, broken and bloodied, collided with the nightmare he had feared for years. He couldn't comprehend the cruelty his own flesh and blood had inflicted upon you, someone he cherished beyond measure. He speaks, and his voice is so heartbreakingly soft, a mere whisper weighed down by the burden of the truth that unfolded before him.

“I'm so, so sorry.” He utters, as though he prompted the hand that came down to hit you.

He believed he did. Because it was only by association, that you had been hurt by his father. That was why you were hurt, right?

His fault. All his fault. All his fault.

He has to take a deep breath and force himself to calm down and think.

Think.

His first priority was you. Always you. He leads you down to your bed and forces you to take a seat on the edge. You watch him as he disappears into the bathroom, reemerging with a damp washcloth in his hand. He kneels down in front of you, hesitating as he slowly lifts the hem of your skirt upwards slightly. He catches a glimpse of the gash on your thigh and that horrible feeling remerges again.

He gently wipes the cloth over the cut, leaning down to press a kiss on your skin. He mutters a few words, and with a small sharp pinch, the skin on your thigh begins to stitch up slightly. Not enough to fully heal, but to ensure it would in the future.

You don’t question how he knows exactly how to heal these wounds.

You know.

He does the same for your arm. Every second he stares at the cut, he feels his resolve shatter further and further, till he can tell whether he wants to cry or ensure the murder of his father with his own hands.

His hands come up to your face, and he lets out a shaky breath. He is ashamed to even look you in the face,

His own reflection of guilt and regret is etched into his features. He keeps his eyes focused on the task at hand, tending to the wounds inflicted upon you by the person who Theodore swore would never even set his gaze on you.

The room is filled with an anguished silence as Theodore continues his ministrations.

As he tends to your injuries, Theodore's mind is a battleground of self-recrimination. The echoes of your sobbing, the memory of your blood on his shirt, haunt him like a relentless ghost. "I'm so, so sorry," he whispers again, the words heavy with remorse as if he could somehow atone for the sins of his family.

With each stitch on your wounds, he feels the seams of his composure unravelling.

When he finally lifts his gaze to meet yours, the vulnerability in his eyes is palpable. The shame he feels is evident.

You muster a weak smile, a hand coming up to cup his face. Your thumb brushes against his cheek lovingly as you speak, your voice calm.

“It's not your fault,”

He wants to cry.

It is. It is his fault.

Theodore pulls you into an embrace, holding you tightly against his chest. The warmth of his embrace is both comforting and suffocating, a paradox of love and guilt; a conflict that threatens to tear him apart.

As Theodore lies down with you, the weight of his guilt still hangs in the air. He holds you as if trying to shield you from the world. He utters words of apology, repeating the words like a mantra.

“I love you.”

But amidst the soothing cadence of his voice, there's an undercurrent of resolution. The conflict within Theodore reaches its zenith, and a painful decision emerges. He knows he can't risk his father ever hurting you again. The love he feels for you clashes with the harsh reality of his future.

Theodore's grip tightens for a moment as if trying to hold onto the fleeting moments of solace. Yet, with a heavy heart, the decision he has to make is almost clear.

“It isn't your fault. Don't apologise.” You whisper, curled into his arms.

“It is. It's all my fault. I got you involved in this,” He utters, as though the admission is poison on his tongue.

“I’m not a good person. I have a horrible family, and he’ll want me to do horrible things, and I’ll have to do them.” He admits, voice breaking.

“No, you don’t. I’m here. I love you, Theodore. I won’t ever leave, and I swear you won’t deal with that alone.” You repeat, voice laced with conviction.

“I'm beyond help. Don’t give your heart to me.” He croaks.

You lift your head up from where it was resting, eyes gazing directly into his. You remain silent for a beat, then two, before you speak.

“I already have.” You respond.

Theodore should feel relief at those words, but he doesn't. Rather, he feels sick. Because he can’t, he won't risk you getting hurt again. He kisses you and pulls you back in, laying next to one another as he wraps his arms around you and holds you tightly, if only for one last night.

Because there was only one thing Theodore could do to make sure his father would never hurt you again.

He had to leave you.

smiley smoke is my favourite smoke

:D

I’m here.

✩Mattheo Riddle x Reader

Summary: The one where Mattheo is spiralling and he needs a way out. He doesn’t expect to find it right in front of him. Alternatively: He doesn’t realise he is loved, by you.

A/N: Riddles 🤝 Internal Monologues. I’ve postponed a smut to write this because my heart belongs to angst. REQUESTS ARE OPEN 😻

Warning: Mentions of Abuse, Child abuse, Substance Abuse, Unhealthy Family environments, Depression. This is quite a heavy read.

Mattheo liked to think of himself as an independent person. It wasn't of his own volition, of course. He didn't exactly have the most supportive home environment. From the day he turned up to Hogwarts after the summer holidays, with scuff marks on his shoes, ragged clothing, hunger gnawing at his insides like a ravenous beast and a bruise spattering the left side of his face, he learnt that the world would not show mercy on him. No, Mattheo had to do it on his own.

He did indeed feel grateful for his friends, who didn't need to utter a word in their support. It wasn't hums of sympathy or pitying looks. It was them brushing off his back when he fell, it was saving the work for him when he had rough evenings, it was pouring him a coffee when he sat down for breakfast without saying a word. Their friendship was not reflected in their words, no, for words were futile. It was in their actions. And Mattheo would be eternally grateful for them.

But even then, it was he who was surrounded by so many, who felt the most alone.

He couldn't ever speak of his issues, he didn't think he ever could. His friends loved him, but not in the way unconditional love came. It need not be romantic, no, Mattheo was not a fool. He didn't care for that when he could barely get himself together. But his deepest secret was not his family's past, nor was it the hidden bruises under his uniform.

Rather, it was that Mattheo simply, had the most terrible, incredibly human need, for love.

For the sort of love that would let you look at the most broken down, raw parts of a person, and still speak of them with reverence.

It tears at your skin. It digs its claws into your feeble skin, and it pulls, It tugs, and it screams. It bares its teeth, it etches its name into your soul. It feeds on you, it consumes you, it hurts you. It bleeds in front of you.

It bleeds, yet it does not cower under the weight of its own vulnerability, because it knows you love it. You lean down, and you cradle it as though it was the most delicate thing on earth. It shrieks in your arms, it continues clawing at you.

You hold it. You are not afraid.

It bleeds, and it makes you bleed with it.

It’s ok.

You'll clean it. You are not afraid.

It was, in its purest form, an ugly thing. Ugly, yet so undeniably beautiful. His heart could only ache, and clench at the thought of such an unconditional love. The idea that someone could see him for him, see Mattheo for Mattheo and not for his father, or for his friends, or for his loud, raucous persona that he put on, or his unhealthy habits.

But how could someone see Mattheo for himself, when he himself didn't know who he was?

He wondered what the rest of his life held for him, often. Sprawled out on his bed, a near-empty bottle of Odgens’ fire whiskey loosely clutched in his hands. His hands are cold; they never warmed.

He always had this feeling in his throat. A sort of suffocating weight, a pain that restricted him. It made it hard to swallow, and even harder to speak.

People would think he'd be out partying. Maybe getting with a girl. With his friends.

It's not that he didn't do that. He did. But it got to a point where the face of one girl blurred into another, he couldn't tell his mornings from evenings. Floating on a high that would sink into an undistinguishable low, one and the same.

He never slept. Whilst they didn't outwardly question it, his friends would jibe and jeer at him, assuming the bags under his eyes were due to his late-night rendezvous with another girl.

Would they look at him differently if they knew it came from nightmares?

He couldn't sleep, because every time he closes his eyes the depths of his mind torment him with images from his past.

His father’s hand comes down, cruel and unforgiving. The bruises mar his skin, but it became the norm. The purples and greens became akin to home more than anything else he had.

In his dreams, his legs do not reach as far as they do now. His calloused hands are smooth once more, and his eyes are wide and honest.

He is young once more, and it does not bring him ease.

He seeks out his mother, he yearns for comfort. She does not give it to him. He is met with the harsh sound of a slap resounding, and his cheek starts hurting. He's confused, and then-

Oh.

Right.

His eyes close, and they open again. He is now looking in the mirror, and he is back to the way he is now. He is standing there, and he cannot tell why he is. He looks the same, yet somehow unrecognisable. Mattheo knows himself well, but right now he feels as though there is a stranger in front of him. That can't be him, he thinks, but he has the same faded scar on his right eyebrow, and his jaw is clenched in the same way. His nose is slightly crooked from when he tried to mend his broken nose at the age of 8.

He meets his eyes in the mirror, and they stare back at him. There isn't that familiar gleam of exhaustion. There isn’t sadness, yet he isn't relieved to see it. He looks in the mirror, and he sees himself. He sees his father reflected in him.

He is watching, and a child approaches him. He is young, as Mattheo was. He barely manages to walk over without stumbling. He looks up at Mattheo - the one in the mirror. Mattheo looks down, but he does not see the kid next to him. He stares back at Mattheo in the mirror, and his reflection is looking down at the child. His stomach starts to hurt. His insides churn, and the reflection raises a hand. The child looks up at him, the same way Mattheo looked up at his mother. The hand comes down, and the harsh sound of a slap resounds throughout the room. The child cries. Mattheo's cheek hurts.

He wakes.

Gasping, sweat clinging to his forehead. His body is freezing, and his mind is reeling. His heart is pounding frantically, and he throws the blanket off him, rubbing a hand over his face as he groans.

He couldn't sleep, He was terrified of trying to do so. His eyes flicker over to the clock on his wall.

2:00 am.

Every time he shuts his eyes, he sees the child looking up at his reflection in the mirror. He sees his reflection raising its hand. In the silence, he hears the sound of the slap, he hears the cries of the child. It mingles with his own, he cannot not tell whose is whose.

He gets up, slipping his hoodie on. His movements are groggy because even if his mind couldn't sleep, his body still needed it.

Then again, one more night of resorting to drinking himself to sleep and he wouldn't be sure if he would wake again. His feet lead him to your room before his mind registers it. He doesn't know why he's standing outside your door, but you were his friend. Perhaps, a closer friend than the rest of them. He knew you'd be up, and he needed to not be alone right now.

Mattheo was a very independent person most of the time, but now was not one of those times.

That terrible, incredibly human need comes back again.

His hand rests on the doorknob, the cool metal still warmer than his own skin. He hesitates, but he pushes the door open.

Your door was always open for him.

As he expected, you were awake. Stretched out on your bed, propped up on a few cushions as you read a book. Your eyes flicker up as you look over at Mattheo, the confusion on your face very quickly fading as you see the state he's in.

You do not say anything, and he is grateful. You put your book to the side. You do not slide over to the side and offer Mattheo a spot next to you like you always do. You instead, continue looking over at him. Instead, you open your arms. You do not say anything, and you beckon him over.

He does not move immediately. He gazes at you for a second and once again, his feet move, and he gravitates towards you before his mind can even compute what he’s doing. The mattress squeaks slightly under your combined weight, as he comes over. He lowers down onto you, his head resting on your chest as he wraps his arms around your midsection. You cradle him as though he was the most delicate thing on earth. His cold skin meets yours, and its intransigence wavers.

He warms, and it is the most beautiful feeling.

He clings to you, as though trying to merge his existence with yours, afraid you'll slip away.

You hold him.

“I'm here,” You whisper.

It doesn't take long after that.

His head is hidden in your chest. Your fingers card through his brown curls.

You hold him.

He weeps.

You hold him.

You do not let go. He cries, and he cries till his throat is dry, and your shirt is soaked. He cries, and not once does your hold on him waver.

You are not disgusted by him. You do not look at him differently. It is amidst those tears that he comes to the realisation that he did not have to search very far. He is not just seeking comfort; he's holding onto the love and acceptance he's always craved. The raw, unfiltered emotion takes him by surprise, and he lets it wash over him. He did not cower under his own vulnerability any more, no, for his vulnerability is both liberating and overwhelming.

His sobs gradually subside, and your hold only loosens slightly when his body no longer shakes with the weight of his emotions. The feeling in his throat is gone.

He doesn't look up at you, but it's okay. You still look at him the same way. Your lips press a tender kiss against his messy hair lightly. His arms wrap around you tighter. You both remain silent. You don’t need to speak the words, because Mattheo knows.

Everything would be okay, if only for tonight.

Y’all know the Dangerously Yours audio that’s like “You will live a long time yet Cathrine. An eternity without me”?

That’s Kuai Liang and Bi-Han because more than likely their war will end by them killing the other.

𝙽𝚠𝚎𝚕𝚢 𝚠𝚎𝚍 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚌𝚊𝚗𝚘𝚗 + « 𝚜𝚗𝚎𝚊𝚔 𝚙𝚎𝚎𝚔 » [ 𝗟𝗼𝘃𝗲 𝗶𝘀 𝗼𝘃𝗲𝗿𝗿𝗮𝘁𝗲𝗱 ; 𝗗𝗮𝘀𝗵𝗮𝗗𝗮𝘆 ] 𖦹𝙍𝙚𝙦𝙪𝙚𝙨𝙩 = ello !! can i request for a short bi-han fic / headcanon (mostly fic) with his newly married wife ? thankies :)) ๏𝘧𝘦𝘮𝘢𝘭𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳 ๏𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 = like one sentence about sex. ๏1101 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥𝘴 ๏𝘈/𝘕 = I finally finished this request and I slightly added my personal touch at the beginning. ๏𝘈/𝘕 2 = I tried to make Bi-han as similar as possible to the image I have of him, hope y'all and "Anon" like it ! I HAD SO MUCH TROUBLE WITH THIS POST OMG I WANNA CRY 🧍🏻‍♀️

——— 𝐒 𝐎 𝐌 𝐌 𝐀 𝐈 𝐑 𝐄 • • •

𝐈 :: 𝘽𝙚𝙛𝙤𝙧𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙬𝙚𝙙𝙙𝙞𝙣𝙜

𝐈𝐈 :: 𝙉𝙚𝙬𝙡𝙮 𝙬𝙚𝙙

◌◍┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈⿻*.·

┏━━───━━━༻✍︎༺━━━───━━┓

╰─► 𝐈 ･ ｡ﾟ☆ 𝘽𝙚𝙛𝙤𝙧𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙬𝙚𝙙𝙙𝙞𝙣𝙜

┗━━───━━━༻✍︎༺━━━───━━┛

⇰ Let's start with the beginning. Honestly I think there would only be two situations where he would get married. The first one ? A marriage of convenience, Bi-han would surely marry a woman of power, but not too much because he to be the powerful one, who could give him men for the Lin Kuei, even if he doesn't really like the idea of them not having Lin Kuei’s blood.

⇰ The second would be out of love, although love is a great mister for this man. I think you two would be childhood friends or something. The man he has become would certainly not be capable of creating such a bond so to have such a relationship with him you would have to have been there in his most distant memories.

⇰ If we follow the second option i believe that he would have developed a childhood crush that he would’ve kept hidden until adolescence when other men started to turn around you. Then he surely started showing others that they have no chance and that even if you don't know it, you will end up with him.

⇰ Bi-Han has always been possessive and jealous although he won't show it to you. He's not jealous of others or anything, but doesn't want anyone to touch you or your smile to be for anyone else. Moreover, he will always act in secret, not wanting, at first, to draw attention to what he feels.

⇰ You will probably have to take the first step because i clearly don't see that man pulling you aside to tell you that he has feelings for you. This ice cube on feet would a thousand times prefer to live with this secret rather than get turned down or have to be vulnerable with anyone, even you.

➽─────❥ The sun hadn't risen for a long time but the young children were all already up. The three brothers had to train which explained the fact that they were already awake but the young girl who accompanied them simply wanted to spend time with them and watch them.

Bi-Han, the eldest of the troop, didn't really like her presence which tended to disrupt their training. Tomas was always nervous under her gaze and Kuai Liang couldn't help but ask her if she wanted to practice a little with them or if she really didn't mind sitting like that. He couldn't stop himself but to snipe little remarks at his brothers or toughen up their exercises if he had the right to choose them.

Their training ended at lunch and the little troop decided to go for a walk before they were all called to go eat. Tomas and [Y/N] were having fun patting each other on the back of the head, although the young future assassin held back his pats which tended to annoy his friend.

Bi-Han watched them slightly annoyed by their idiocy but his gaze never left the girl. He didn't like their proximity and even if he didn't like games he would have preferred to be the one she bickered with. And at these thoughts he couldn't help but wince which alerted Kuai Liang who asked him if everything was okay.

—Everything is fine, just unwanted thoughts. he sighed.

Little did he know that these “unwanted” thoughts never left him.

┏━━───━━━༻✍︎༺━━━───━━┓

╰─►  𝐈𝐈 ･ ｡ﾟ☆  𝙉𝙚𝙬𝙡𝙮 𝙬𝙚𝙙

┗━━───━━━༻✍︎༺━━━───━━┛

⇰ I honestly don't think that his behavior would change, he would be proud to be able to call you his wife but when he loves someone, it's almost impossible, his feelings don't change over time. Yeah they increase over time but after a while they will remain the same, neither more nor less.

⇰ However during the honeymoon he will maybe be gentler than usual wanting everything to be perfect. He'll try to be a little more tactile and agree to one or two things he had always refused to do, like styling his hair the way you want or making a clay mask.

⇰ Once you return to the Lin Kuei your routine will not really change but he will more easily accept that you accompany him and will be proud to introduce you as his wife. He will not accept you being called anything else than "his wife" and will annoyingly correct anyone who makes a mistake.

⇰ Bi-Han will probably also want to start trying for a child. For him it is important that a Lin Kuei by blood, his son, takes over after his death. He refuses to let anyone else take care of his clan, just as he would have refused Tomas the title of Lin Kuei if given the choice today.

⇰ The sex will also change slightly at first. He will like to remind you that you are his forever now and will focus a little more on your pleasure and especially foreplay.

⇰ Before the wedding I don’t think that you would have a shared bedroom. So now that you live together full time he will be satisfied to come home, practically every night, and see you waiting for him.

⇰ The cryomancer doesn't want you to work, he prefers to have you warm, at home. He will certainly not be against the idea of you having activities although you will have to push a little at first. Now that you're married he always wants to know where you are and with whom to make sure you're safe.

⇰ He will surely ask one of his ninja to follow you discreetly and to know everything you do. In the evening he will come home as if nothing had happened and ask you to tell him about your day even though he already knows everything, from what you ate to when you woke up.

⇰ Even though he doesn't show it much Bi-Han has feelings for you and at night, when you're asleep, he'll whisper to you how proud he is that you're his wife.

➽─────❥His hand moved gently over her arm, although the coldness of his hand made her shiver. He had tried to slightly warm them before touching her not wanting to wake her but her body must surely have gotten used to his coldness over time which should have allowed her to sleep so soundly.

He kissed her shoulder before holding her against him. Bi-han always took several hours to fall asleep and liked to be sure she was safe before he relaxed or dared to close his eyes.

Then, on the verge of succumbing to Morpheus, the ninja nestled his face against her back and whispered in the softest way he could.

—I…love you my beautiful and clever wife… 

🤏🎀👌

✨Reblogs are appreciated✨

Kenshi and simeon

Sleepy time Headcanons with Bi-han.

I think with all his training, Bi-han can run on very little sleep. On a regular day, he will go to bed at night, but while on a mission he has been known to stay awake for days on end.

If you are lucky enough to sleep in the same bed as him, you have to point out to Bi-han that you're cold. Arctika is freezing and Bi-han only sleeps with a light blanket on his bed. He forgets that normal people regulate their own temperature. He will buy more blankets/duvets for you and actually use the fireplace in his chambers.

For this same reason, Bi-han doesn't wear much to bed, if anything. Sleepwear is a waste of time when you have literally no need to keep warm.

Also due to his training, Bi-han has almost insane awareness of his surroundings at all times. This makes him a very light sleeper. In the first weeks of sharing a bed, every little move you make will wake him up. You turn over in your sleep. He's awake. You mumble in your sleep. He's awake. You get up to get a drink/go to the bathroom. He's awake and wants to know where you're going.

Bi-han is also super protective, even in the privacy of your bedchambers. He has to be the one nearest the door, so he is between you and any dangers. If you get up for a drink/the bathroom, he will stay awake until you are back in bed with him. If he thinks you are taking too long, he will get up and find you, just so he knows you're safe.

He likes sharing a bed with you. He finds he sleeps better with you beside him. He likes that the sheets smell like you, he likes the warmth that comes from your sleeping form, he likes holding you when you're both in bed. Bi-han may not admit it, but this is the best sleep he's ever had. Being in bed with you is one of the few places the grandmaster can truly relax.

bulge pics will always be hotter than a straight up dick I dont make the rules however I should

DUDE THE DARK JOHNNY FICS ARE KILLING ME you ate them up please write more pookie!! It can be any concept but if you can’t think of one I was thinking, Johnny went to go shoot a film and just wanted you sitting at home being pretty, until you decided to pack everything that was yours and leave like entirely(let’s say to a different state or smth) clothes,shoes,bags, everything gone and he goes bonkers trying to find you or whatever LOVE YOU POOKS😘😘😘😘

OOOOHHHHHHH LOVE U MORE POOKIE BEAR

dark star!johnny cage > i'll find you

you hit your limit with johnny and abandoned the life he trapped you in. to say he isn't happy is a major understatement.

warnings: yandere johnny boy, abusive relationship

notes: i love how collectively mentally ill we are, love you babes

part 1 | part 2 (SMUT) | part 3 (SMUT) *

*parts are one-shots, this is not a consistent series.

• things were going okay, so johnny thought. gifts were pouring in, the media seemed happy, and you were quiet. quiet was good to johnny. it meant you ran out of energy to protest. what he didn't realize, though, was that you were quiet to avoid raising suspicion.

• "i'm locking the doors, baby, so no parties for you," johnny would tease often about you running away or hosting parties while he was gone, but regardless he always remote locked the doors when you were left on your own. to him, you were like a puppy that was raring to leave at the crack of an open door. "they've got me filming a night scene and i told them i'd rather kill myself than film in a fake night studio, so we're gonna be out late. remember the rules?"

• johnny had rules with you, to make sure you stayed in line. you nodded and recited them. no leaving without permission, call before bed, and to not cover the security cameras. johnny nodded with approval, kissed your cheek, and was gone with a quick "good girl. love you."

• your smile faded away when the door shut. you instantly sprinted into the master bedroom, locking yourself in the joint bathroom. it was the only place without cameras.

• he had a habit of searching through your personal spaces and devices. however, one of the places he didn't check was your sink cabinet. he found feminine products gross. remember when i said he was immature? yeah. this was the best time to take advantage of that.

• behind the wall of pads and tampons was a large duffel bag cramped between the sink pipes. in it was all of your necessities and then some you purchased with his credit card. you'd sneak them into the bag using one of the designer purses he once gave you after cheating on you.

• after removing it from the cabinet, you set it atop the toilet and squeezed in one last shower. lord knows when the next one you'll have will be, or if hotel bathrooms are as luxurious as the mansion. perhaps it'd be the one thing you'd miss truly.

• when you get changed, you put on three layers of clothes and stuff the rest in the empty gaps in the bag. the expensive clothes and absurdly elegant jewelry stays behind. nobody needs that to be happy. freedom would make you happy.

•you had been periodically depositing money from johnny's account into your own secret checking account, one you opened without his approval. he needed to monitor your purchases, so he instead just gave you a credit card in his name. over the last year you'd move small quantities over until you had enough to run away and sustain yourself. sure, it was stealing. but is a multi-millionaire going to miss a few thousand?

• when you were sure everything was packed and ready, you squeezed yourself through the small window in the bathroom and took off as quickly as you could, careful to stay in the blind spots of the cameras you'd studied prior. you then climbed onto a long distance bus, showing the ticket you purchased weeks in advance, and you were off.

• it didn't feel real at first. you watched malibu fade from the bus window, glancing around at the ordinary people sitting alongside you. you were so disheveled and definitely not dolled up, people probably wouldn't recognize you. you purchased the first ticket available, one that was taking you to arkansas. hundreds of miles away, and loads of people to blend in with. nobody would think to find you there, since it had nothing awaiting you. you managed to stabilize yourself and recollect your plan you meticulously planned in your head while the hills rolled with you.

• after a couple hours of shooting, johnny sat in his little diva throne and opened his phone to his surveillance app. tapping through his home, panic set in when you didn't appear on a single camera. maybe you were in the bathroom, he thought. after waiting, you never emerged. the house was empty.

• one new voicemail.

• "hey-y-y," johnny's nervous, gritted laughter played through your phone. "i'm not seeing you on the cameras. call me."

• one new voicemail.

• "seriously, woman. where are you? this isn't funny."

• one new voicemail.

• "i'm coming home. you're making me leave work early. i'm gonna call the fucking cops. you think you're so smart? you've got two hours to come home, and if not, i'll find you, whether you like it or not."

• you snapped your phone in half, discarding it at the bus's front trash can.

• johnny arrives home, slamming doors open and turning every piece of furniture around. chairs fly across the room, your once neatly organized closet is torn to shreds. he finds your belongings short of his usual counting and puts it together. you ran away, you—

• johnny sinks to the ground, gripping his hair so tight he's nearly pulling chunks out. he's laughing so hard from mania that drool is rocketing from his mouth with the Textbook Crazy Eyes.

• he texts and texts, probably well over a couple hundred times. the messages remained undelivered, yet he kept barraging the deactivated number in hopes that the next message would come through. surely he couldn't get the police involved. "hey guys, my girlfriend ran away from me because i controlled her entire life!" yeah. that'd end in handcuffs.

• so instead, he lies. it's his specialty. he dials 911, and channels the mania into a false desperation. he sobs into the phone, claiming that you're extremely mentally unwell and must be returned to him ASAP.

• johnny spends the next week posting your face everywhere on social media. you and him become, yet again, the talk of the country, but for once it seems like a genuine concern. with the way he painted things, you were insane and in danger if you were away from him, and you needed him to protect you. johnny painted himself as the savior, making charity campaigns to raise money for search parties. his home is full of gifts in your honor.

• he'd drink and smoke, something he didn't usually do, just to relieve this insane stress. he felt like his other half became untethered, like his entire world was falling apart. as much as he controlled you, he really did love you in his own fucked up way. he needed you, more than you needed him. you were the one person that would agree with him no matter the situation. he loved how you made him feel.

• meanwhile, you're basking in the sun by the hotel pool as you browse nearby apartments. it felt foreign to make your own decisions, and you had zero concern over whether or not the place would be up to his par. it was up to you now, and you loved it.

• you just had to hope that johnny wouldn't find you himself. lord knows what he'd do to you.

I love men who moan, men who whimper unashamedly in your ear. Men who sob, men who cry, men who bite your neck, your shoulder because you feel so good they can't help but drool a little, men who beg "Please baby, you feel so good", their pretty eyes crystallize, men who like to overstimulate themselves by continuing to come in and out of you, with broken grunts and a scratchy throat.

🔞 Mileena on my ptreon 👉🏾👈🏾💕

🔞 Mileena on my ptreon 👉🏾👈🏾💕

-ˏ͛❥ FILTHY GIFTS FOR ITADORI /FT. GOJO

-ˏ͛⑅ itadorixfem!reader, gojoxfem!reader, heavy smut, masturbation, kinky, filthy, pervert, stroking cock with panties ⑅ˏ͛-

itadori yuji. here he was standing cock rock hard as he stares at non other then his sorcerer mrs. y/n panties. yuji has always had a huge fat crush on you. he can't count how many times he had to beat his fat cock at night to the thought of you. how many times he had to excuse himself to the toilet just because of his ragging hard on.

"here take it as a gift for completing the task I gave you" gojo saturo cheekly says. grinning from ear to ear as he hands his student the panties of non other then his lover.

"what are you-" itadoris cock twitch in his pants when gojo place the panties on his palm- it was wet. it was wet. it was wet. yuji repeats in his mind, not believing what's happening. did you squirt in these panties? was it your pussy who made this mess?

he gulps nervously as he glance at gojo who was still smirking at him. clearly amused by his student reaction. oh this is going to be fun, he thought.

" you don't need to be suspicious about it, it's simply a gift for your good work" saturo speaks out while laughing, waving at the boy as he makes his way out.

itadori finally breaks, groaning as he palm his painfully hard cock and bring your red panties to his nose sniffing the scent of your pussy in. his eyes roll back as his hips twitch. fuck- fuck- fuck, he's going to cum in his pants just at the scent of you. unzipping his pants, he pull his fat cock out, whining as he touch his red sensitive tip ready to explode and ruin your little panties.

"fuck! fuck! I'm going to ruin your fucking panties" itadori moans into ceiling as he spit into your panties and place them on his leaking cock, clearly lost in pleasure to give a fuck if someone finds him this way. his cock twitch, throb, the fabric of your panties is drenched with his spit and cum.

your pussy was in those panties. your pussy was in those panties. he keeps repeating to himself till white liquid squirt out of his cock, shooting directly into the panties that was wrapped around his dick. tears of pleasure slip down his face, his thighs giving out from how the force of his shaking.

he lays down trembling, the only thing on his mind was that he had to complete all his tasks so he can receive more of these gifts from gojo saturo.

itadori yuji. itadori stands at gojos office like last time, but he was nervous chewing on his lips as he thinks about whats going to happen. will he give him another gift for completing his mission? or will he mock him?

his thoughts were caught of once he hears the door of the office open then close, revealing gojo, who was clearly as excited as itadori was to see him. he makes his way toward his desk before speaking out.

"so? mission done" he questions already knowing the answer, itadori nodes to nervous to even speak a word. gojo hums as he place his hand into his pocket. "I guess it's time for your gift" his words make itadori stiffen, cock already hard- excited on what kind of gift he's going to get this time.

gojo remove his hand from his pocket revealing the special gift- your red bra. it was a matching set with the panties. itadori fights of a whimper that was about to slip past his lips as he stare at the big bra- your breasts were always so huge, so plumpy. they looked so soft. he just wanted to suck, knead, grope, squeeze them. he wanted to have a taste of those hard nipples of yours that popped out of your shirt whenever you didn't wear a bra.

his cock starts leaking, so eager to have a hold of your bra. his minds running a million thoughts- thoughts about filthy things he's going to do with this bra just like he did with the panties. he was a pervert. a pervert who slept every night with the new gift of his. licking, sucking on your panties every night. sniffing it before he leaves his room to go on a mission.

gojo grins, he was excited- so excited to see where this is going to go. oh little y/n, oh if you knew how much of a pervert your favorite student is.

and gojo promise that soon enough you will see this side of your student yourself.

if this gets enough attention I'm going to turn this into a series!! :3

: ̗̀➛ if you're into megumi fics click 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞

: ̗̀➛ if you're into geto/gojo fics click 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞

Y’all think Bi-Han would get confused if his s/o started biting his biceps

literally havent been normal since i found out about johnny cage

he has two dogs according to MEEEEE

🥰

(definitely not going to heaven lmao)

Credit: audgracio on TikTok

showing of my favourite character be like

revert to clingy creature

What did doja cat say about big noses

Mortal Kombat 1 so far

they should make johnny and kenshi canon so johnny can have his first GAY divorce . hashtag love loses