#paper men headcanons

[ambrossart]

hi! hope you’re having an amazing year so far! I miss your posts so much I thought I’d start sending more asks lol. I was just wondering if you have any head cannons for any of the characters that might not make it into the story you’d wanna share? anyways, wishing you the best!

Ohhhh please do (only if you want, of course, no pressure)! Asks like this always stir up new ideas for the story. Plus they’re usually a lot of fun.

This one, I’ll admit, is a bit tricky for me, though because:

1) most of my headcanons (are they technically headcanons if I’m the author? 🤔) will be used in the story and I don’t wanna spoil anything. That’s no fun.

2) I feel like I’ve already hinted at or posted about the other ones.

3) I’d rather hear all YOUR headcanons 👀

But I’ll do my best!

Henry

- His birthday is in May (I’m pretty sure I just used Nick’s birthday because I was too lazy to come up with a new date 🤫)

- I’m sure I’ve said this one before, but he was held back once, in the 6th grade.

- Did Henry allow himself to get held back on purpose? Definitely. There was no way Henry was moving on to high school while Evelyn was still in elementary school. He was thrilled to be in the same grade as her.

- He struggles a lot with reading and writing. That’s his biggest hurdle in school. Otherwise he would be an average student.

- He’s not stupid and he really hates when people question or mock his intelligence.

- Let’s be real, Henry hates being mocked and teased period. But that is a special trigger for him.

- He hasn’t had a proper home-cooked meal since his mom left. 😢

- Most of his dinners come from a can. And sometimes they’re not even meals, just random cans of beans or vegetables.

- He also makes a lot of sandwiches. Nothing fancy.

- Occasionally, Charlene Huggins will bring him leftovers from the restaurant where she works.

- Yeah, Belch’s mom has a soft spot for Henry. Probably because she’s known him for so long.

- Tabitha Criss absolutely cannot stand him, but she tolerates him for her son’s sake.

Patrick

- His birthday is the same as in the movie, February 4th, so he will be turning 18 at some point in the story.

- His dad moved out sometime after the whole animals-in-the-fridge situation.

- He’s recently remarried but still financially supports his first wife and son.

- He just couldn’t bear to stay in that house anymore.

- (Or is there another reason?) 👀

- Patrick doesn’t enjoy most things, so he doesn’t really have a favorite anything.

- He has gotten his hands on a few snuff films, though, and finds them very… stimulating.

- He truly doesn’t remember his first kiss. It left zero impact on him. Might’ve been with a girl. Might’ve been with a guy. Who the hell knows. 🤷🏻‍♀️

- He lost his virginity at a shockingly young age. That’s all I’m gonna say about that.

Victor

- His birthday is in April, so he’s almost 6 months younger than Evelyn.

- Victor hasn’t had a birthday party since he was a little kid and his parents forced him to have them. He hates being the center of attention.

- Victor likes his routines. He hates surprises or having things sprung on him at the last minute.

- So he wasn’t flirting when he requested Evelyn give him advanced notice before coming over.

- Okay, he wasn’t just flirting.

- He really does appreciate the heads-up.

- Victor doesn’t know how to ride a bike. He was terrified of looking stupid while learning, so he never bothered to try.

- That’s why he never tried sports as a kid. He doesn’t like trying new things.

- He’s very picky about his food. There’s a lot of foods he simply won’t touch for various reasons.

- His mother knows his preferences and tries her best to cater to them.

- He’s never slept over at a friend’s house before. He simply can’t sleep in unfamiliar places.

- He hasn’t had his first kiss yet and he doesn’t really care. It’s not something he’s dying to do.

Belch

- Belch’s birthday is in October, same as Evelyn’s, so he’ll be turning 17 soon! 🥳

- He also got held back in elementary school. He had to repeat the 5th grade due to poor performance.

- His weakest subjects are math and English. Strongest subjects are phys ed, shop, and surprisingly, home ec.

- He took the class to meet girls… or at least that’s what he tells his friends.

- Henry was Belch’s first and only friend for most of his childhood. That’s why he feels so indebted to him.

- He’s had a distant but friendly relationship with Victor since elementary school, but they didn’t really start hanging out until high school.

- He introduced Victor to Henry and was shocked when Henry so quickly accepted Vic into the group.

- Belch keeps in contact with Moose Sadler and Gard Jagermeyer… or at least he used to. It’s been a while since he last heard from them. Weird.

- Christie Gibson is not Belch’s first girlfriend. He had one other before her, but she dumped him after a week.

- A lot of girls have expressed interest in him… for his car, anyway. He was the first in his grade to get his driver's license.

- His mother is an assistant manager at a local restaurant. She works long, long hours and rarely takes a day off.

- In case it wasn’t already obvious, Belch and his mother are very close. He considers her his best friend.

Misc.

- Lenny Arkins is on the hockey team. He’s a goalie.

- For a while, Paul Colborne thought Evelyn Tozier had a massive crush on him.

- When Paul first moved to Derry, Evelyn was the first to greet him and was always inviting him to hang out after school.

- His theory was debunked when the next new kid came along.

- Paul was very relieved. He wasn’t sure how to let her down gently.

- Lenny also thought Evelyn had a crush on him at one point.

- Boys often mistake Evelyn’s natural friendliness for romantic interest.

[mayjunenov]

the fact is that chuuya (and kunikida, and the rest of the cast but also mainly chuuya and kunikida) can just blame it on dazai, because its probably his fault anyways!

sore neck? dazai slept on you in a way that would cause you discomfort on purpose!

nightmares? dazai was feeding information into your subconscious!

bad hair day? dazai poked you in specific spots so that the positions you slept in would result in an unattractive hair shape!

so yes, it really was dazais fault it rained on the day you planned to go out, he projected the weather and made sure your schedule was only free that day!

[starryskyspectacle]

So Who's Up For Toads?

Personal interpretations of Captain T Ode (him before getting frozen at least), Professor Toad and the Origami Craftsman

[fighting-these-demons]

Heard this song for the first time today and my mind is trying to make the Square Peg of Mr.Kuwenma fit into the Round Hole of this song and in order to do so I'd have to edit the lyrics slightly.

But like. Idk I've got brainworms.

TO BE CLEAR : IN MY AU KOENMA IS AN ADULT AND WAS TURNED INTO A TODDLER PRE-CANON AS PUNISHMENT BECAUSE HIS DAD CANONICALLY SUCKS

Ok Headcanon forming and incoming will edit as I get more.

Ok so Lyric edits:

I didn't think you'd understand me How could you ever even try?

I don't want to tiptoe But I don't wanna hide But I don't wanna feel this monstrous fire

Just want to let this story die And I'll be alright

We can't be friends But I'd like to Just pretend

I cling to my papers and pens Wait until you like me again

Wait for your love My love I'll wait for your love

Me and my truth we sit in silence

Baby Girl it's just me and you (Botan is baby girl lmao)

Cause I don't wanna argue But I don't wanna bite My tongue yeah I think I'd rather  die

You got me misunderstood But at least I look this good

We can't be friends But I'd like to Just pretend

I cling to my papers and pens Wait until you like me again

Wait for your love My love I'll wait for your love

I'll wait for your love My love I'll wait for your love

I know that you made me I don't like how you paint me Yet I'm still here hanging

Not what you made me Something like a daydream But I feel so seen in the night

So for now it's only me And maybe that's all I need

We can't be friends But I'd like to Just pretend

I cling to my papers and pens Wait until you like me again

Wait for your love My love I'll wait for your love

I'll wait for your love My love I'll wait for your love

I'll wait for your love I'll wait for your love I'll wait for your love I'll wait for your love I'll wait for your love

[chrlotpony]

mannn fuck canon and fuck angst, I declare sunil and vinnies friendship like matt stone and trey parker.

for reference, sunil thinks he can't go along with a joke he made without having vinnie there to laugh or not and see if his joke is funny. he's not choosing anyone else but the guy he spent most of his life close with, laughing and sharing thoughts about what they care the most and find glee in. although vinnie seems under sunils shadow, sunil can't physical or mentally do his best, let alone be himself, if he doesn't have his ride or die along with him. it's as if he waits on his dove to come and collect the letter so the point of it being sent and delivered could happen in the first place. and he is more than happy to admit that out loud.

vinnie isn't just sunils motivation, vinnie is like an engine for everything. he's an eye in every corner, doing hard work when sunil is packed. he will stop in his tracks when he notices sunils absence. he always is the first to notice, as well always the first to find him. sunil is usually found hiding in a tight space away from the overwhelmingness. vinnie either has two options: hide with him until it's all okay or bring him out with a comforting hand. it's not just that he misses his presence the moment he's not there, vinnie misses his own presence then and there. his white blank surroundings all comes back in colorful view when he finds his favorite person. both need each other like they are each other's half, like friendship heart necklaces that are doom to click together forever. one thing about the people around them is that they will always ask first about the other when only one of them is standing by.

oh and they made out in a 1998 movie about a made up sport called BASEketball :p

them uyryfh

[hashtag-anthems]

I’m working on a paper on this topic and it got me thinking so I made a poll. This won’t be used in my paper but it will satisfy my curiosity. I’m including the main ones I’ve seen around here on tumblr and on Ao3, but that obviously won’t be all-inclusive so feel free to pick “other” and give me an essay in the reblogs or replies. I want to hear the people’s thoughts!

I’m impatient so I’m only leaving it open for a day so pls share if you vote

[loganlermanstanaccount]

Can you write a college roommate head cannon for miguel O’Hara ( 18+ f!reader)

ik you asked for HCs but I have no self control... my bad, anon!

College Roommate!Miguel O'Hara Headcanons

(AO3 Mirror), Main Masterlist

pairing: College Roommate!Miguel O'Hara x f!reader

summary: Miguel is your roommate. And he’s hot. That’s it, that’s the tweet.

warnings: 18+ as fuuuck. F-receiving oral, using toys, masturbation, voyeurism (-ish), grinding, praise, service dom (idk?) Miguel, recreational drug use (reader and Miggy smoke a blunt). Minors DNI

a/n: I am a firm believer that modern day Miguel listens to 90s rnb, back when men were men: unabashedly, unashamedly down so fucking bad for their partners. he just gives me those vibes!!

edit: I'm writing a full fic for this! Rigor Mortis, college au fic, read here.

wc: 6k

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I'm thinking you become roommates but he's your last choice. 

Very last minute: you have a big falling out with your now ex-boyfriend, and the plans for flatsharing next semester goes right out the window. 

So all the good places are taken, and you're going apartment-hunting, but everywhere's either too expensive, too dirty, or there's a predatory clause hidden in the lease: shitty landlords and blaring red flags in 9pt Times New Roman. 

When you stumble upon Miguel O'Hara; a student in private accomodation who, lucky you, is in need of a roommate; it feels like a godsend.

Rent is affordable and he's nice enough; refusing to grunt more than a few words to you, but is clean, organised, and from what you can tell, is barely in the apartment. 

You sign onto the lease, desperately, hoping you've just been lucky and trying not to look a gift horse in the mouth. 

You give a thousand mile stare at the blank document in front of you. A bullshit paper due in exactly 12 hours. Yes, you left it until the final stretch, and yes, it's 10k words. Very doable. You're not fucked. Nope.

You blame it on the banging from next door. Paper thin walls; obscene noises. Cries of Yes Miguel and Just like that, daddy have been plaguing you for almost an hour. His stamina must be superhuman, the way the woman in his bed has been howling. Howling may seem extreme, but she sounds like a dying cat: cock drunk and babbling over Miguel O'Hara? 

Your new roommate had been nice enough. Quiet, unassuming, and seemed more than absorbed in his schoolwork. So you didn't expect him to unashamedly fuck the girl he's been tutoring for the past week. It all clicks. The "perfect roommate" turned out to have one teeny tiny little flaw: loud, obnoxious sex, well into the early hours of the morning. 

On autopilot, you're clicking through tabs on your bed. Perhaps you're a prude, but the sex noises are abrasive, excessive, to the point of parody. Persistent, Miguel's low voice reverberates in the walls of your bedroom; making heat pool at the base of your stomach. 

"You want it, hermosa? Tell me…. such a pretty girl… like that?" It's muffled, but his voice is unmistakable. Low, greedy, heavy with want. God, the last time someone's spoken to you like that was… 

You shake your head free of cobwebs. No. You're not rewarding him. You can't . Your roommate is shameless, and inconsiderate, and really fucking annoying . 

The smacking noises increase, coupled with banging on his side of the wall. Resolute, your face hardens. From where you perch on your bed, you slam the wall with the side of your fist. 

"O'Hara! Keep it the fuck down!" 

~~~

He's a biochem major, up to his ass in assignments and he still has time for societies, internships and tutoring. 

The only times he'd be in the apartment really was an impromptu session, and you didn't notice at first, but it became more obvious as the semester went on.

As a so-called tutor, he only seemed to pick the prettiest girls - they would twirl their hair on your kitchen counter and bat their pretty lashes at him when they didn't understand. Favours for a couple of friends, is his only response when you ask. 

It felt like you'd open the door to a new girl every week and you are baffled. Donned in makeup and short skirts, they'd waddle in asking for Miggy, or drop off half-finished assignments whilst craning their head through, trying to catch a glimpse of him. 

The absurdity would make you laugh if it wasn't affecting your sleep. 

Not that he's not absolutely gorgeous, but he's so quiet you would never have thought he had it in him: to have a revolving door of women lining up to lay underneath him. 

This time, her name is Sarah: pretty little thing in Miguel's Advanced Math class.  She perches on a stool, wearing a tight dress that is wholly not appropriate for a tutoring session. She's one of his regulars, if you can call it that, and has been failing for at least 2 semesters. You flash her a smile as you pad through the kitchen, searching the cupboards for a snack. God, she is gorgeous; dolled up for another long session with Miguel, no doubt.

"Where's he gone?" She asks politely. 

You shrug. "I couldn't tell you, sorry."

"It's okay… I'm just a bit stuck." You almost snort and catch yourself. For some reason, you didn't think they actually did any work, merely a pretense for the… cardio later on in the day. 

You glance at her sheet of paper, scribbles in purple pen with large swathes crossed out. Leaning over, you scan the page.

"Right here." You point and she follows with a manicured finger. "You fucked up with this integral and I think… yeah, I think that messes with the whole thing."

Her eyes light up as she follows you, explaining with a piece of cookie hanging out of your mouth. She's definitely smart, just a few little mistakes here and there that you're happy to point out. Thanking you fervently, she rushes to correct it. 

"Ah, it's no problem. I get mixed up with it too." You smile and notice Miguel by the doorway, watching with a strange look in his face. You roll your eyes as you walk past. What a fucking weirdo. 

"Thought I was the tutor?" He croons.

You raise an eyebrow, voice low as Sarah is engrossed in her work. "...I don't want to fuck her, Miggy , if that's what you're worried about."

A little cruelly you push past him, shoulders clashing against one another. Is he smiling ? For now, you blame your perpetual tiredness when you think you catch the hint of a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. 

~~~

You're a light sleeper, and it all makes for a tired, delirious combo. You sleepwalk through the day, scramble to finish assignments and whilst it's not all O'Hara's fault, you can't help but blame him for a lot of it. 

After you successfully get through one long week, you decide to celebrate. That means a couple hours of mindless hedonism: your favourite movie, greasy food…. and your trusty dildo. Not at the same time, of course. 

Miguel's not home, and he's not tearing down the walls with some other girl, for once, so you decide to treat yourself. 

You've been going through a dry patch, and you'd hate to admit it, but he does sound good through the thin drywall. 

It was a joke gift; given to you by a friend for your birthday. An obnoxiously purple dildo with a suction cup at its base. Aptly named Hugh, due to its - ahem - large stature. Standing tall at 7 or 8 inches, far bigger or thicker than any partner you've taken in the past. Sitting around a small diner booth with your friends and opening the bag to reveal him, had been quite the experience, for sure. 

It wasn't your fault you had gone through a dry spell in the past few months. With work, with school, with relationship issues, you hadn't had the time or energy to sleep around. Not that you were desperate for drunk, lackluster sex, followed by an awkward dance of ubers and shitty coffee in the morning. Like many, you preferred to do it yourself. 

Laptop open, you ease yourself onto the toy, already slick with lube. Prepping yourself with your fingers had been quite the task, tabs open to something on a lewd website. It's cheesy, but you didn't really like the bright lights and plastic of usual porn. The moans felt too fake, the sex devoid of any real passion. So you found a couple of independent creators; couples, mostly; carnal fucking with fervour only borne from real love . It's embarrassing to admit it, but your favourite parts are the little kisses and touches in between, or light laughter after a rough session. As if to say: it's okay and I'm still here. 

On your screen now is a longtime favourite video, a broad man bullying his fat cock into his partner. You can't help but think he looks like Miguel, not as pretty but tan with strapping shoulders, and large hands that wrap around the neck of the girl in the video. 

" F-Fuck," You breathe, sinking down onto your toy. You bet Miguel's palm on your throat would be deliciously rough, and you imagine how he'd fuck the brat out of you like the man on your screen. 

What hadn't occurred to you, however, was that the thin walls went both ways. Whilst you were quieter than many of the girls Miguel brought home, you were fairly shameless with the moans and curses that fell from your lips. Headphones on, you were blissfully unaware that Miguel had slipped into the apartment some time ago. The slap of your thighs to the floor, the desperate whine as you roll your hips over the toy - he can hear it all. 

Miguel has a conscience, so he does feel some amount of shame when he slips a hand down his trousers and presses an ear to your shared wall. He closes his eyes and bites down lusty groans, fisting his cock to your pretty noises. Noises he's been wanting to hear from you for months, now, imagining it was you underneath him instead of his usual partners. 

He times it just right, squeezing around his tip in time with the steady slap just beyond the wall. Are you fucking yourself? On your knees, hands flat on the floor, churning up your insides with a toy… or maybe ass up, dildo attached to something…? He almost cums with that mental image, wondering what you'd look like on your knees for him. Is the dildo as big as him? He knows you, knows you'd want it to hurt - for his cock to stretch out your pretty pussy when he cums deep inside you. 

All things he thinks about with a hand around his cock, and he's already close. But he wants to cum with you, listening intently for the signs. 

" Fuck," Your voice comes out muffled, but it makes him buck up into his fist all the same. " Need it… oh God, I-" 

He speeds up, wondering what it would be like to have your thighs shake underneath him, what it would take to have you babbling and begging for more. How would he break you? Maybe on his cock, where he'd watch you squirm as you take his length. Or on your knees, choking around him and licking up his cum. Or, God, thighs wrapped around his head, riding out your high with his mouth sealed on your clit, crying for him slow down, for him to-

" H-Harder, Miguel, please." 

He releases, sudden and intense, spilling white ropes into his boxers. 

" Fuck, Miguel…"

He fucks his fist through it, overstimulated from the way you say his name. It feels like the only way it should be said; spilling from your mouth, haphazard and desperate. Like honey, like treacle; sweet things he didn't know he had the capacity for. He lets that feeling wash over him, panting, bringing his forehead to rest on cool wall. 

~~~

He's hot. He's smart. He's a whore.

A total blindspot for you, and no matter how much you can't stand him; you still find yourself stealing glances whenever he's home. 

And he does seem to be home a lot more, often choosing to study on the dining table rather than his room. It's like he does it on purpose, using the warmer weather as an excuse to wear tiny tank tops and loose gray sweats - showing off the muscles of his broad back and arms perfectly.

Funnily enough, when he's not around those girls, he's bearable - seems to have grown a couple of brain cells in those short few days between sessions. 

You laugh and joke, sometimes, and he surprises you by suggesting a movie one quiet night. 

He offers you his sweater to snuggle into, you eat your weight in greasy takeout, and your roommate seems like an actually decent guy?? 

You had fallen into an easy routine: O'Hara leaves a flask of coffee for you to snatch up in the morning, hair damp from the shower and all, and you meet him with netflix and instant noodles in the evening. A push and pull that works in the little space - much smoother than your rocky beginnings.

After a truly shitty day, you come home to a quiet apartment. Almost sleeping through an exam, forgetting lunch, missing the bus home, and having to trek back through pouring rain in a thin coat. Everything that could go wrong, did, and you are left with the pieces. You trudge through the living room into the kitchen, the wet squelch of socks on laminate floor haunting every step. Shedding your limp outerwear, you lay the contents of your backpack onto the kitchen counter: clumps of loose paper, the damp leftovers of a textbook, bleeding ink. Your main concern, however, is your laptop slick with rain water. 

With baited breath, you put it on the slab, and press the power button. A click, a stuttering whir, and the screen flickers on. Then, just as strained, it putters off. Dead. Completely dead. Your legs almost give out, and you lean on the counter to steady yourself. Half of your life was there; including the final project that would make up a good chunk of your grade. It takes you everything not to collapse onto the floor right then and there. 

"How was it?" You hear the click of a door and Miguel calls out from the hallway. 

You wince."...F-Fine?" 

You hear footsteps, as he gets closer. "Are you asking or telling me?" 

You clear your throat, desperately trying to keep your voice steady. "Fine. It was fine. I'm just… it was fine."

Back still turned, you fumble around with the wet contents of your bag, hoping he doesn't notice. 

"Long day?" He says warmly, head poking into the kitchen. Haphazardly, you spare him a glance from behind your shoulder. He's dressed in a sweater that fits snug around his chest, rolled up to expose his forearms, and loose sweats. In his hands, he drinks from a cheesy mug - your mug, donning a stupid pun. He looks warm. Cosy. Domestic. For some, reason it makes your heart sink even further. 

Long day? "Something like that." You manage to squeeze out. There's a pregnant pause as he comes closer. Rummaging blindly through a cupboard, you try to hide behind its door. If he sees you like this, now, you don't know if you'll be able to hold it together. 

You close the door, and all of a sudden he's there, mug in hand. 

" Fuck, man- " It makes you jump, as he squints and takes a sip of his coffee. 

"You look… wet." 

"That's because it rained, Miguel." Snapping at him, your tone is biting. You're tired, stressed and in desperate need of a cry, but he is unrelenting in his gaze. 

"Are you ok?" He asks, unfazed. 

There's a lump in your throat and all you can do is nod with a tight expression.  His eyes flicker towards the counter and you shuffle, trying to cover up the mess. And then you watch it happen; initial confusion, a flash of realisation, and then worry; all in the space of a couple seconds. 

Gently, he pulls you aside to inspect the damage. "Mierda. This is pretty bad. You sure you're ok?" 

He's got a hand on your arm now,  The dam breaks and you crumple into tears in the kitchen floor. Of course, he comes with you, rubbing your back as you blubber through the details. 

" Nothing's going right for me… and I've got my final project on there… I'm barely keeping up as it is…" All he does is nod, face tight with something you can't quite name. It must seem pathetic to him, you think, shamelessly crying on the kitchen floor, complaining to your poor roommate. He can't leave you like this, because he's a decent person - but internally, he must think you're going crazy. 

It helps, having him there: a steady presence by your side. Slowly but surely, your tears subside. 

"You could've asked me to pick you up." He hands you some tissues off the counter, and watches as you mop up the tears. "I would've come, if you called."

"I didn't… I didn't think we were…" You search for the right word. 

"...friends?" He offers, with a small smile. "You think I let just anyone steal my sweaters?" 

"First of all," It makes you laugh, despite yourself. "You offered. And second, I've seen what you do with your friends, and I don't know if I have the energy for it."

"Ouch." Bashful, he rubs his chest like it aches. He sits a little close to you, knocking your shoulders with his own. "I know this girl who's crazy good with computers. I could ask her to take a look, if you'd like? Might not be able to save it but maybe we could recover the files?"

"...I'd like that, to be honest."

"Muy bien ." He leaps to his feet, palm stretched towards you to help you up. "I'll run you a warm bath or something. You're creating a puddle and it's going to ruin my floor."

"Our floor, asshole. I pay rent here, too." 

~~~

You find that you enjoy being around him, and he feels the same. 

You can't help but compare him to your shitty ex who you were planning to move in with: and even with his quirks, Miguel is better in every way. 

There is harmony in your household, for a while, and you almost look forward to coming home to him after class. Almost. 

It doesn't last long, because of course it doesn't. You'd thought you'd come to a tentative ceasefire, able to casually rib and joke with each other - takeout and B-roll movies aside. He leaves you leftovers from food he makes, you turn down your music when he's studying, and he even woke you up the other day when you had slept through your alarm.

Beyond the wall, his music is loud: a playlist you recognise as the one he puts on to (unsuccessfully) mask the noise of his usual late night adventures. Cheesy love ballads, heady RnB that leaks into your own room. You'd rather die than admit his taste in music isn't horrible, but it usually means a long, long night for everyone around. With finals around the corner, there's no way you can let this stand. 

What kind of person does that? Lull you into a false sense of security with Snakes on a Plane and pepperoni pizza? 

Absorbed in your own work, you hadn't even realised he had someone over; let alone was gearing up for obnoxious sex. You'd bang on the wall, but you feel like you guys are past that: crossed a threshold of intimacy that means you can shout at him up close and personal. 

So you stomp over to the hallway, banging at the door to his room. In the short trip there, you've worked yourself into a frenzy. How many times have you told him to keep it down? That it was rude and inconsiderate to flaunt his sex life in your face; to fuck other women so loud you were practically involved? There was something about the little smile he would give you afterwards, when you catch him shepherding his latest out the door in the morning - like he gets off on it, enjoys it, when you react. Even when you think you're over it, he still manages to drive you absolutely crazy. 

“Miguel? Open the fuck up!"

You're still fuming when the door opens with a click, and Miguel appears in the sliver of the doorway. He opens it so that his frame is half swallowed by the door, top half peeking through with a lazy hand in his hair. And of his top half, he's bare from the waist up, black band of his boxers sitting low on his v-line and loose sweats. 

All the wind is knocked from your sails, and you lose your train of thought. 

"Yeah?" 

"I…" You clear your throat. "I don't care who you fuck, but when I'm doing work-" 

"-I'm not." He chuckles. "There's no one here, hermosa. Just me. And you, I guess…"

There's something about the way he says it, lazily, as if it's his first time saying those words - wrapping his tongue around your name to see how it fits. If it fits, how it tastes. His relaxed posture, the way his hair falls…

"You're high." Your brow shoots up. "... you're high!" 

With a finger pressed to his lips, he grabs your hand and pulls you into his room, eyes darting around the hallway. 

"Shhh! You can't-" Now, he gets close, whispering like he's saying something he shouldn't. "You can't tell anyone. "

"I won't." You breathe. His face is serious at first, and then you're both giggling. You've never seen him so carefree, and it's nice to see Miguel walking around without the weight of the world on his shoulders.

He's still holding your hand, pressed close, and you see him drag his eyes up and down your figure. "You want do something you'll regret…?"

"...I've got a 9am, tomorrow, I really-" 

"-shouldn't?" He finishes, dragging his hand up your bare arm, pupils blown. He gets up to your shoulders, tucking your hair behind your ear. It's sinful, the way his touch is gentle but gaze heavy - violent in the way he practically eyefucks you. You feel bare, in little sleep shorts and a t-shirt.

He steps back, lounging on his bed, and makes for a half finished blunt by the adjacent window sill. Sighing, you sit by him, sinking into the mattress. He pats you closer, dangerously close, and you comply. One arm curled by your waist, the other brings the blunt up close and you wrap your lips around it. When Miguel brings a lighter to the blunt, you lean into it, knuckles brushing your lips. 

You take a drag, long, heavy, eyes closed. And when they open, you're met with his own. Maybe it's the weed, maybe it's the heady atmosphere, but you swear his eyes are low and deep with lust.

"Good girl." He rumbles, cupping your chin and tracing a thumb to your lips. He separates, bringin the blunt to his own lips before leaning back to pass it to you. As quick as he gets close, he pulls away; leaning back into the expanse of his large bed. And he looks good, head drawn back and the curve of his tan arm drawn upwards. Tufts of hair from his chest, the trail that leads down suggestively - and without inhibition, you basically drool over him. God, there it is. You feel it kick in and let it wash over you. 

His music, long forgotten, blends into your downy haze. You want to sit in his lap, rest your head on his chest. You get it now: if this is the view all those women he tutors get to have, then you finally understand. 

"Come closer, hermosa ." You barely register the nickname, only focused on the way he says it, the delicious way it rolls off of his tongue. You nod, and shuffle closer. His siren song sounds sweeter, somehow, up close. 

You pass the blunt between you both, and watch it dwindle to the last dregs. Lying down next to him, he clutches your hand and takes the butt between his fingers, letting its flames die as you watch. You giggle and his gaze softens.

"I didn't expect this from you." You look up to see an upside-down Miguel, hiding a smile. 

"Expect what?" He drags himself downwards, to rest his head by your side. 

"All…" You gesture vaguely. "This. Don't even think I've been in your room for this long, before."

His room looks exactly how you'd expect it: tidy and modest, a row of trophies neatly lined up on a shelf, a telescope pointing out towards a window. There are posters by his bed; science related, mostly. You tilt your head in the direction of one of them.

"Is this what they see?" You mumble to no one in particular. 

He manages to catch it, sluggish in his response. "...Is this what who sees?" 

"All the girls you fuck." It tumbles your of your mouth, before you can help it. 

He tilts his head too, looking at the poster and you watch the sharp lines of his jaw besides you. Even at this angle, he's so pretty. 

"Huh. I guess they do." 

"It's not very romantic, is it?" You blink, oblivious. Your question is met with a noncommittal shrug. "What was her name last time? Cassie, Clara-something…"

"Katie." He hums. 

"Katie." Ignoring the twinge of disappointment at his quick response, you hope it's the weed and not jealousy that made you pretend to forget her name. 

You sit up on your haunches, tracing the valleys and mountains of his bare chest with a leisurely finger. You try not to notice the way he shivers at your touch. 

"I could hear everything. Every, 'Yes daddy'," You feign a moan by curling your lips into an O-shape. You bring your other hand to your hair, head tilted back with exaggerated movement. "And 'right there, Miggy, right fuckin' there' ." 

Technically, you're making fun of him and laughing, expecting him to follow. But he doesn't, head back and eyes boring into you - only bringing a hand to press yours at his chest. 

"Thin walls, Miguel." You clear your throat, sensing a shift in the atmosphere. Too far, probably. "Sorry, shit. I didn't mean-" 

"I hear you too." He says softly. "I heard you, the other day."

Head filled with cotton, it takes a moment for his words to really click. So he elaborates, lacing his fingers with your own. 

"Fucking yourself, hermosa ." He says it lazily, like the vulgarity of the act doesn't register.

Your eyes widen in horror. How much exactly did he hear?

"...and I heard you say my name." 

"It was…. i-it wasn't like that-" Fuck. You can't think straight as it is: and his voice is low and silky, rubbing circles on your hand close to his chest. Even now, he oozes confidence, the steady thump-thump of his heart giving away nothing. 

"Hmmm? Then what is it like?" You blink at him, unable to answer. "You're a hypocrite. You complain about all these women I supposedly fuck, but then-" 

He pulls you closer, so that your lips almost touch his. "-you lock yourself in your room, touching yourself and thinking about your poor roommate. What am I meant to do with you?"

A pause, and in your daze, you can't breathe. For all your theatrics, it's too easy for him - to prod and tease, and for you to chase after him. You move to kiss him, but he grabs your chin at the last second. "Not quite. I want to hear you say it."

"Fuck- " You crumple, hiding your head in the crook of his shoulder. Even in your haze, the nerves bubble up from the base of your stomach. "Fuck me, please , Miguel."

He places a hand on your thigh, leading you to straddle his middle, other hand wrapped around your waist. He grinds your lower half into his, leaning up to bring your lips together. 

He tastes sweet, greedily lapping up your moans in the clash. You're not thinking, not really, lost in the heat of his body, desperate and eager when you kiss. To contrast, Miguel cups your chin, pulling you away for air whenever you sink too deep. Somehow, he still manages to look smug, taunting you with a flash of his little fangs whenever you separate. If you weren't feeling the effects of that blunt, you may have had the means to be embarrassed at how much you want him - needily grinding against him and pawing at his chest. 

It's too slow, too leisurely, like a punishment; and he refuses to give you what he knows you want. Your whines betray you when he finally slips a hand down your shorts. 

"¿Paciencia, hmm?" He grabs a handful of your ass, clothed cock catching on your clit. It rips another moan from you, which he happily swallows with another kiss. "Patience, princesa."

You hump against one another like teenagers, your hands planted by his head for purchase. Hips moving of their own accord, you chase the relief Miguel provides: with his hands kneading your ass, length catching at your clit, and teeth nipping at your bare neck. 

He licks a stripe up your collarbone, soothing the blossoming hickeys with a hum. 

Fuck, how can he be so casual ? You don't know if it's the weed or something else, but he is in his element, hand dipping down your back to graze at your pussy from behind. He hisses when he realises how wet you are, swiping his fingers down your slit and taking them out to pop them in his mouth. 

Now, flushed and face hot with embarrassment, you look up at him with big doe eyes. It makes Miguel feel guilty for stopping you so close to your climax. Beautiful : lower lip hooked under your teeth, plump and swollen and kissable. He'll make up for it later: a promise he whispers into skin. 

"You're soaked." He cups your cheek to press a kiss to your forehead, and all you can do is whine. His gaze dips down, to the swell of your tits in that thin shirt.. 

"What did you think about when you touched yourself?" It's soft, said in the warm press of your bodies; hook-shaped and hazy and you fit like you were made for one another. The thought lingers, plants a dangerous seed that makes you forget that the man underneath you is your roommate : unrepentant whore, Miguel O'Hara. 

"You." You've seen it first hand, he eats hearts for breakfast; and yours is on a platter for him to devour.

He laughs, deep and rumbling, hands resting on your waist. "I know that, baby. You don't have fantasies? Fuck yourself to the thought of someone touchin' you just right?"

Not just someone, him, you think. Your voice dies in your throat at the way he looks at you. "Just… n-nothing really-"

He hums, grinding your hips onto his. "Speechless, I can't believe it. Is this what I need to do to get some fucking peace around here?" 

You roll your eyes, "Don't be a dick, Miguel. When I shout, it's because you deserve it."

"...there it is." Eyes shining, his face stretches into a shit-eating grin. Wide, unabashed, unambiguous. "You back with the living, sweetheart?" 

It makes you laugh, even though you hate to give him the satisfaction. 

"What do you want?" He kneads your thigh and pleasure pools at the base of your stomach. 

You mumble something begrudgingly.

"Hmm? Can't hear you, baby."

Louder, now. "...want to sit on your face, Miguel." 

Lowly, he groans, shaking his head. "Mierda… of course you do."

Expertly, he helps you take your shorts off, dragging the thin material down your thighs. You clambers upwards, wrapping them around his shoulders, watching intently as he kneads the soft skin. It's tentative, at first, and you place your hands on the headboard to perch just above his mouth. 

He licks, diving in with the flat of his tongue: a long upwards stroke that ends with him sucking your clit. Moaning, your hips jump and he chases your pretty pussy up, large palms pushing you back down. He concentrates on your bundle of nerves, lips around your clit like a man on a mission.

And, God, does it feel good; he watches and learns from your every movement, committing your body to memory. His moans vibrate deliciously, tension building at that spot faster than your mind can register it. Then, you clench around nothing, gushing into his mouth whilst he eases you through it. The noises he makes are obscene; one leg off the bed and a hand snaked under his boxers. He's getting off on it; watching you crumple and sob around his tongue. 

And when you begin to move off, thighs sore, he doesn't relent, sealing his mouth on your pretty little hole. 

"Miguel.. fuck-" After your first orgasm, it surprises you when he continues, tongue fucking you with fervour. He presses you close, impossibly close, and your body fights against his ministrations. Heat, everywhere, and it's too much. The haze of the blunt begins to wear off and you are left with biting clarity. You want more of him, deeper; drunk off of just his tongue. 

You card your hands in his hair, and he moans: deep and wanton, with his eyes fluttering shut. He wants to look, to watch you when you cum on his tongue for a second time. Back arched, the curve of your tits peeking through a tiny top, fucking yourself on his face. He wants it hard , wants you to take control and use him to get off. 

"Right there, fuck… "

Like you can hear his thoughts, you press yourself down harder, riding the deep ridge of his nose for relief. Miguel complies and leans into it. He eats you out like a man starved and the carnality of it all brings you to a second peak. You cum once again, legs wrapped tight around his face. Head back, he laps it up readily. 

You separate with a wet pop, and Miguel looks blissful : fucked out and panting, wiping the slick off of his face with a forearm. Exhausted, you lean back onto the mattress beside him. 

"That was…" He searches for the right word, and it's your turn to finish for him. 

"... good. " Scarily good. So good you won't be able to see him around the apartment without remembering what he looks like trapped between your thighs. 

Gently, he turns to cup your cheek and bring your lips to his. It starts off sweet and deepens rapidly, making that thread at the pit of your stomach tighten, again. He grabs your thigh, bringing it closer, and you feel his length poking your stomach. Fuck. 

"You haven't…?" Your hand makes for his trousers, and he stops you. "I want to, Miguel. Want you to feel good too."

His head sinks into your shoulder. "I know, baby, I know. Not like this. Not yet."

You nod, still wrapped up in his arms. You haven't even fucked, and it feels more intimate than it should. 

"You've got a 9am tomorrow." He smiles with a hand underneath his head. 

"I've got a 9am tomorrow," You repeat, sighing. "...and my life is falling apart. I'm failing half of my classes as it is."

He turns to you, lazily. 

"I could tutor you, if you'd like."

…

"That's not fucking funny, Miguel."

_

_

Miguel taglist: @d1lf-loverrr, @afro-hispwriter @ilovemiguelohara @weedxgirlx420 @ladydovahkiin180 @aaliyuh3 @sweetanimebakery @vvitcxen @rosecoloredlenses708 @daikondal @magikmina @impettywhenyouare @alonelygirlsuicidenote @plushyplants @javi0ca @rheeves @starrfruit @nikirikii @marsbars09 @foxglove-grove @mimooyi @crosshairclown @dead-by-light @kynamitedessert @naarra @wanderlustingcastaway @sagejin @cookielovesbook-akie @tangerineloverrr @gobblegluckgluckgod @wolfiepirate @jxxey3 @ebrysteria @elliemm @manchuria @youngghostpeachslime @weasleybuns @ilovemuppets @vauriz @bonbyon @aimno256 @ancientbeing10 @tvije @venus1224idkpleaze @neteyamsbulletwound @chickenjefferson-blog @maki-z @jasjasthings

_

edit: the full fic xx

[mephisto-reporting]

Silk, Satin and Sensual

Premise: Headcanons on his preferences for lingerie and his reaction when he sees you in them. Based on this request. Pairing: Reader x Xavier, Zayne, Rafayel, Sylus (Seperate) [Caleb version will come out after his release] Note: Reader and the men are in a relationship. This is suggestive. Please do not interact if you are a minor. Caleb version will come out after his release when I know more about his personality. If you wanted to be added to my taglist, please DM, ask or comment :D Content warning: Suggestive. MNDI.

XAVIER

Xavier has a thing for soft, celestial tones like white, cream, silvers and muted golds. He’s drawn to fabrics that shimmer faintly, almost like starlight against your skin. He has a thing for delicate patterns, like lacework.

Sheer materials like mesh and chiffon drive him wild, especially if they reveal just enough to leave him craving more. He prefers the balance of teasing and revealing, where the fabric hints at your curves without fully exposing them.

He’s absolutely obsessed with your thighs and prefers lingerie that accentuates them. Garter belts, thigh-high stockings, and intricate lace shorts are his kryptonite.

If you have small celestial accents like tiny golden stars or moon charms hanging from the garters… good fucking luck. You are not walking the next day.

He has an unapologetic habit of tearing your lingerie when he loses control, so he’s constantly replacing your wardrobe. His explanation? “It’s not my fault they’re made so fragile. I’ll get you something sturdier—next time.”

Once the damage is done and your new lingerie is in shreds, Xavier looks annoyingly unbothered. He’ll casually toss the ruined piece aside and murmur, “Guess I’ll have to buy you another.”

He’ll commission a lingerie set made of delicate ivory lace with gold threads woven into it, shaped to mimic constellations. He’ll surprise you with thigh-high stockings that have faint, shimmering patterns running up the sides. These are always paired with garter belts because he loves tugging on them when he is intimate with you.

He’ll leave the box on your bed, wrapped in soft cream paper with a gold ribbon. Inside, there’s always a handwritten note in his steady handwriting. “For you. You’re too beautiful not to be dressed like the stars themselves.”

His reactions:

The moment he sees you in lingerie, his carefully composed demeanor melts away, replaced by an intense, almost predatory focus. His eyes lock onto your thighs, and his voice becomes a low murmur laced with want. He is the definition of: his eyes darkened.

Xavier likes the idea that these pieces are chosen specifically for his eyes. If anyone else saw you in them, even accidentally, it would ignite a streak of jealousy.

If you walk past him too many times, deliberately flaunting the look, he’ll finally snap. One moment, you’re teasing him; the next, you’re backed against the wall with his hands tracing the garter straps. “Do you want me to tear this off?” he’ll ask, his voice soft but carrying that dangerous edge. Spoiler: He’s already decided the answer.

ZAYNE

Zayne prefers earthy tones—rich browns, deep greens, warm ambers, and muted burgundies. These hues remind him of natural beauty, grounding yet alluring. He loves subtle details like lace trim, delicate straps that crisscross your back, or a ribbon that ties just above your hips—small elements that add to the allure.

Zayne is drawn to pieces that accentuate your waist. Corset-style lingerie, high-waisted panties, or teddies with cinched designs are his favorites. He admires the way they create an hourglass effect, appreciating your silhouette.

He has a thing for materials that feel good to the touch: silky satins, fine lace, and soft mesh. The tactile experience is as important to him as the visual.

Zayne has impeccable taste, selecting pieces that balance seduction with sophistication. Think satin teddies with plunging necklines or lace bodysuits with subtle, sheer paneling. He gravitates toward lingerie sets that emphasize your natural beauty rather than overwhelming it—clean lines, elegant accents, and designs that celebrate your form.

When Zayne gifts you lingerie, he makes it an intimate experience. He’ll lay the gift on the bed, wrapped in tissue paper with a single dried flower,something earthy and subtle, like a sprig of lavender or rosemary. His note is direct: “For when you’re ready to let me admire you properly.”

Zayne picks quality over quantity. He’d rather gift you one stunning, well-made piece than several forgettable ones. His selections are designed to last—not that he always gives them the chance to.

His gaze never wavers. When you wear lingerie, Zayne’s eyes lock on yours before slowly traveling down your body, making you feel like the most captivating thing in the world.

There’s no ripping it off, but it won’t take long before he’s slipping the fabric off. He’s not gentle, but he’s not reckless either. There’s a certain hunger in how he undresses you.

His Reaction:

When you walk into the room wearing one of his carefully chosen pieces, Zayne’s reaction is immediate. His calm is replaced by a sharp intake of breath, his eyes trailing over you with an intensity that makes the air feel heavier.

Zayne’s fingers brush over the fabric with deliberate slowness, his palms lingering against the soft satin at your hips. “Feels even better than I imagined,” he murmurs, his lips quirking into a heated smirk. “But I think it’d feel better on the floor.”

If you tease him, letting a strap fall off your shoulder or adjusting the lace just so—Zayne’s control begins to crack. His hands are on you instantly, his voice dropping to a growl. “You like testing me, don’t you? Keep it up, and you’ll see what happens.”

RAFAYEL

Rafayel is drawn to soft, pastel shade like gentle blues, lavender, and delicate purples. He prefers lingerie that’s sweet and soft, evoking a sense of innocence while still being sensual.

He gravitates towards cuter lingerie like bralette sets with flowing chiffon accents, babydolls with sheer overlays, or high-waisted lingerie shorts. He likes pieces that don’t reveal too much but are so alluring that he cannot keep his eyes off you.

Rafayel is obsessed with fine details such as silver waistbands that drape lightly like jewelry, chokers that gleam with tiny pearls, delicate chain straps on your bra, tiny dangling gemstones, or trims that sparkle subtly in the light.

Sheer robes, flowing fabrics, and fluttering hems draw his gaze as they cling to your skin over your lingerie like water waves. If you are wearing a lingerie, fresh out of the shower with your hair still wet, it is game over for this man.

Rafayel treats every moment with you in lingerie as sacred. He doesn’t rush; instead, he takes his time, savoring every detail like an artist admiring their finest work

Rafayel is the kind of person who doesn’t just buy off the shelf. He’ll have something specially commissioned for you, likely a set of lingerie that reflects your personality and his artistic sensibilities. His commission might even include small charms that are Lemuria inspired.

Rafayel, though loving, is bashful when it comes to gifting lingerie. He would likely have the lingerie sent to you without a grand reveal, perhaps bundled with other gifts like chocolates, perfume, scarves that might distract from his true intentions. His note will be brief, almost casual: “Some pieces I thought you'd appreciate, seeing as you're always so fashionable.”

His Reaction:

The first time you step out wearing one of his custom sets, a soft lavender bralette with delicate gold chain accents and a matching choker—Rafayel freezes. Rafayel can’t stop staring, though he tries to look away, his hand rising to cover his mouth as his blush deepens. “I-I didn’t think it would suit you this perfectly…” he stammers, his gaze flicking back to you despite himself.

“I… I didn’t mean for it to be so… um… revealing,” he stammers, eyes lingering on the intricate lace and the subtle gleam of the small jewels. “But… you look… divine.” When Rafayel touches the fabric, his fingers tremble against your skin. He’s so gentle, almost reverently so, as though touching you in this way is an act of worship.

"It’s like you’re wearing my art… and I can’t stop admiring it." His gaze will flicker between your face and the lingerie, doing his best to hold himself together. “Why are you doing this to me?” he’ll murmur with desire. “I just want to keep you here... like this... for as long as possible.” he whispers, voice barely audible, as though if he spoke louder, he might break the spell.

SYLUS

Sylus gravitates toward bold, classic colors like deep blacks, rich reds, and occasionally luxurious whites, midnight blues or dark emerald greens. These colors resonate with him. He appreciates the elegance of these shades, as they exude sophistication and bold sensuality.

He’s a silk and satin man through and through. These fabrics are smooth, luxurious, and irresistible to his touch. He loves how they glide over your skin and how they feel beneath his fingertips.

He loves classic, timeless lingerie: lacy bras with garter belts, high-cut panties that highlight your legs, and elegant teddies that hug every curve. Think luxury brands and couture pieces that scream sensuality.

Occasionally, Sylus surprises you with bolder, risqué styles: Cage-style bras with open backs, strappy bodysuits that playfully expose just enough skin, lingerie with sheer panels, leaving little to the imagination.

He doesn’t tear or rush; instead, he carefully folds each piece, placing it aside after everything is said and done. “I’ll want to see this on you again.” he explains with a sly smirk

Sylus doesn’t stop at gifting you a single set. Every outfit in your closet has a matching pair of lingerie. You’ll find lingerie for every occasion. Sylus alwayssurprise you with a box containing lingerie hidden among other extravagant gifts—fine jewelry, luxurious robes, or even a custom-made vanity to store your collection: “Maybe my luck is not be so bad if I am the only man who gets to see you in these, sweetie.”

For Sylus, lingerie isn’t just for the bedroom. He loves seeing you lounge in one of his tailored sets, reclining on his sofa as you read or listen to music together. Sylus is content to let his hands roam over the satin, enjoying the feel of it warmed by your skin. “Stay like this,” he’ll say softly, his voice a mix of command and yearning. “I want to keep you close.”

True to his nature, Sylus has a habit of keeping little trophies. He has a drawer in one of his private residences dedicated to these keepsakes  as a reminder of your shared moments. If you ever catch him in the act of placing something there, he’ll simply shrug with a sly grin. “Can you blame me? I keep what’s mine.”

His Reaction:

When you step into the room wearing something he’s chosen for you, Sylus’ composed exterior falters, just slightly. His gaze darkens, and his lips curl into a small, satisfied smirk. He’ll take a slow step toward you, one hand tucked casually in his pocket, the other reaching out to trail a finger down the silk, letting it rest against your hip.

Without hesitation, he’ll scoop you into his arms, carrying you effortlessly to where he wants you—be it the bedroom, his grand leather chair in the study, or even the chaise lounge in front of the fireplace. “I’m not letting you out of my sight when you like this.”

Sylus never tears your lingerie—he unwraps you like the most precious gift, his hands moving with reverent care. “You deserve to be savored, not rushed.” he whispers, his gaze locked on you. He’ll seat you on his lap or lay you down, his fingers tracing slow, deliberate movements along the fabric. The lingerie is not just for his pleasure, it is for yours as well.  

AN: reblogs, feedback and opinions are appreciated!

taglist: @cordidy

[vxnuslogy]

𐙚 my love, mine all mine.

— some headcanons about certain things the hsr men would do while in a relationship.

— warnings: none

— author's notes: self-indulgent, once again credits to @.cafekitsune for the banners. this is lowkey dedicated to the stellaronhvnters <3

𐙚  AVENTURINE 

would always accompany you on your spontaneous night drives around pier point. before you can even leave your room to drag aventurine to his car, he’s already leaning on your doorframe, his car keys in hand as he flashes you a smile; not the gambler like smile he shows to his enemies but a child-like one filled with uncontained excitement and wonder. 

its half past midnight and your both in your pajamas (he insisted that you both wear matching ones) as he rolls down the roof of his very expensive car to let the wind flow with your hair. your phone connected to the speakers as you blasted your shared playlist. loud enough to satisfy your needs to have a mini carpool karaoke session but quiet enough you won’t disturb any civilians trying to sleep the night away.

aventurine shakes his head in fondness and amusement when you scold him as he skipped a song he didn’t particularly like. the pout on your lips would soon fade as he reached to pull you by the chin and give you a peck on the lips. your nagging turned into panic as you hit him in the arms for not keeping his eyes on the road.

𐙚 VERITAS RATIO

always comes home exhausted. even in his tired and slightly dazed state, he always comes home at exactly 7 pm and each time his arms wouldn’t fail to snake around your waist and his lips press a soft kiss on your neck in greeting.

when you ask about his day, the doctor just grumbles and complains about his students. but you knew deep down he was proud of them after they finally managed to solve this one particular problem he gave them without his help. they’ve been making fast progress, he once stated, making a smile bloom on your face when he checks their papers.

you chuckle under your breath as ratio continues to chatter away about his students' progress. your back flushed into his sturdy chest while arms kept a steady hold of you – tight enough that you could feel his muscles but still be able to move around the kitchen. a melody starts to fall from your lips as you hummed and swayed, and ratio follows with his own humming as you both start a pseudo dance in the middle of making dinner.

𐙚 BOOTHILL

date nights with boothill usually consisted of going bar hopping and hiding away in a dark alley as the IPC passed by. you’ve grown fond of the excitement as your lover drags you out the bar with officers high on your tails. it never fails to rip out an uncharacteristic laugh from you and cherry grin from him.

tonight was a lot tamer than other nights. sitting in a bar counter, a cup of whiskey boothill had asked you to hold while he gets another bounty for the both of you. he knows you wouldn’t take a single sip of his drink, your alcohol tolerance was nonexistent he says making you roll your eyes. your peaceful night was disturbed when a new face popped out from seemingly nowhere, taking the seat your lover once occupied as the man tried to buy you a drink

boothill always had impeccable timing. just as the man was about to take a hold of your – his – glass, a cold arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you back into a firm chest. you try to look up but a familiar hat was instead placed over your eyes as the glass in your hand was taken. the liquid disappeared in a flash as boothill downs it in one go. just to prove his point, he gingerly lifts his hat over your face and press a kiss at the corner of your lips, making it known to the man that you were with him.

𐙚 SUNDAY

not many would believe you if you told them the stories of how easily flustered the head of the oak family. everyone would picture him as a full package gentleman – opening doors for you, pulling back your seat, pressing a kiss to your knuckles, etc. – but what they don’t know is that, in your relationship, the one being worshiped wasn’t you.

without a doubt, you were the one who always opened the door to his office for him, offering to carry his things even if he protested, even going to one knee to tie the laces of his shoes. sunday was always in competition when it came to being a gentleman and he always loses to you every time. and he doesn’t make any effort to make you stop despite his embarrassment; one drag of your knuckles under his eyes when he’s overworked and tired and he’s putty in your hands.

how could he resist your pampering when you always take off his gloves when it's just you two in his office, pressing a delicate kiss to his knuckles and whispering sweet nothings to him. admiring the writing calluses on his right hand as you talk about your day. 

© vxnuslogy 2024. please do not copy, repost, or translate any of my works.

[ambrossart]

How each members if the gang would react to someone witnessing them doing something bad like a crime (not killing someone bad)?

And if that someone was Evelyn would the reaction be different ?

Okay, I want to preface this by reminding everyone that I do not accept general Bowers gang imagines/headcanons. I’m not saying that applies to this submission specifically, but I don’t want people seeing this post and thinking my inbox is open for anything. It is not. If it’s a request related to Paper Men, I’ll gladly answer it, but if you want general headcanons about the boys, kindly direct those elsewhere. I have no interest in thinking about or writing those. It’s a very slippery slope and I don’t wanna be stuck writing about their ideal types or what they’re like in bed. Please, just… no. 😂

Anyway…

How the gang reacts to witnesses of their crimes:

General thoughts

Their reactions are largely going to depend on the severity of the crime they’re committing. The greater the crime, the more severe the response.

For lesser crimes, like petty theft or minor bullying, they’ll probably just blow the person off, shoot off a smart remark, and keep doing whatever they’re doing.

With more serious crimes, that’s when you’ll see those threats of violence and actual violence.

Or if the person just refuses to walk away.

Seriously, don’t try to be a hero. You’ll instantly regret it.

Just ask Richie. He tried to get his sister’s shirts and ended up getting his ass kicked and going for a ride in Belch’s trunk.

If Richie hadn’t gotten involved, Henry probably would’ve just dumped the shirts on Evelyn’s porch. Maybe not right away, but eventually he would have.

Their reactions will also depend on if they’re committing these crimes individually or as a group.

Whenever they’re in a group, the boys tend to follow Henry’s lead, so they’ll respond however he tells them to, even if they don’t necessarily want to.

But group crimes are less fun, so let’s focus on individual crimes!

Henry

Henry’s crimes are violent in nature—either against people or against property.

So he would most likely get caught vandalizing property, bullying an innocent child, or just straight up beating the shit out of some random person, for seemingly no reason at all.

Seriously, how has this guy not been arrested yet?

Right, because his dad’s a cop. Never mind.

Out of everyone, he’s the one you really don’t wanna interfere with. This boy is overflowing with rage. The last thing you wanna do is get in the middle of his… therapy.

Therefore, if someone sees Henry committing a crime, they’re most likely gonna look the other way because they don’t wanna risk becoming a target themselves. Especially children/other teenagers.

Adults are gonna be an exception to this.

Because Henry lives in constant fear of his father, he’s more likely to back off if an adult gets involved. He doesn’t want them to call the cops.

In regards to Evelyn, Henry tends to revert back to a bratty child whenever Evelyn gets involved in his business. It’s more annoyance than anger, though. It’s like he just knows he’s gonna get an earful from her the next time he sees her.

We saw this when Henry tried to skip class and Evelyn stopped him by sitting on top of Belch’s car. The situation quickly devolved into a very childish argument.

Also, when Henry was about to beat up Noah McDowell for laughing at him, Henry did hesitate when Evelyn ran off to get a teacher. So she definitely does have an effect on him and his behavior.

That being said, I do think Henry hides a lot from Evelyn. There’s a whole other side of him, a very dark side, that she’s never seen.

Like killing Mike’s dog, a lot of his more racist behavior, I don’t think Evelyn knows about that.

Henry doesn’t want her to know about that.

Patrick

Patrick is a unique case.

He gets away with a lot of shit, doesn’t he?

He skips class all the time. Stalks people. Starts random fires. Steals things out of people’s lockers. Casually commits blatant acts of sexual assault… Need I go on?

He does all this in plain view, so people definitely see him doing it, but nobody ever reports him. Why?

Because Patrick’s just so… weird, isn’t he? It almost seems normal.

Nobody’s surprised when he starts a fire in the library.

Very few people remember what he was like when he was a kid. Even Evelyn has no memories of him.

Most of the girls he assaults aren’t quite sure if they were technically assaulted. Maybe they secretly wanted it. They don’t know. It’s a blur.

Patrick operates in this bizarre grey area. Nobody really knows what to do with him.

So unlike the rest of the boys, Patrick isn’t all that concerned about witnesses. He knows how to manipulate a situation and use his looks to his advantage, so he rarely has to resort to intimidation.

The biggest exception to this is the fridge situation, of course. And we know how that ended.

Denny Booker saw Patrick with the trash bags, told, got him sent away, and now years later they’re in the same homeroom class and suddenly Denny’s dog goes missing.

Patrick claims he didn’t take it, but do we really believe him? I’ll leave that up to you.

Unlike Henry, Patrick doesn’t make overt threats. His threats are subtle, so subtle that you may not even realize he’s threatening you… until his words sink in and you feel that little chill up your spine.

I’m not gonna talk about Evelyn here because I’ll probably end up saying too much and spoiling something.

Vic

Vic’s a bit of a toughie.

Unless he’s with the rest of the gang, Vic doesn’t really misbehave much. He simply doesn’t have the energy for it.

Yeah, he’s definitely more of a “guilty by association” kind of guy. If he gets into trouble, it’s probably because someone else dragged him into the situation.

I could see him acting out more when he was younger, though—to prove himself more than anything.

Vic joined the gang a bit later, so it took him a while to gain Henry’s respect and trust. He probably did a lot of bad things as a sort of gang initiation.

Although he tries not to show it, Vic is very self-conscience and self-critical, so I think getting caught would affect him the most. Like on a really deep emotional level.

It would force him to step back, self-reflect, and face the person he’s become.

This would be especially true if Evelyn was the one to catch him.

Her opinion matters more than anyone’s because she’s always thought so highly of him, so Vic really hates seeing her disappointed. It bothers him a lot.

But it’s okay! Vic will just get really high, go to sleep, and try to forget it ever happened.

Poor Vic 🥺

Belch

Like Vic, Belch doesn’t get into much trouble on his own.

When he was younger, he was a more active participant in Henry’s violence, but he’s mellowed out a lot since then.

He’s actually matured.

He’s got priorities. He’s got responsibilities. Things he wants to accomplish in life.

Now the worst thing he does is steal kids’ lunches, but that’s just a childhood habit that he’s had a hard time breaking.

Belch cares a lot for his mom and hates creating extra stress for her. That woman has enough on her plate. The last thing she needs is the school calling her or the cops knocking on her door, so Belch really tries not to get into too much trouble.

That’s difficult when your best friend is Henry Bowers.

With Belch, he’s more likely to get pulled over for speeding or something. That would probably be his worst “crime.”

And that would be so embarrassing for him.

Belch feels so cool when he’s driving his car. There’s nothing cool about sitting on the side of the road, watching all the other cars pass by, and waiting for the police officer to finish writing your ticket.

Imagine if his classmates saw him. Oh my god, the shame that boy would feel!

He would never wanna show his face in school again.

Luckily, Belch is a good driver, so he probably won’t have to experience that a lot.

[junovae]

giving blowjobs to the tf141 men under a desk at their workplaces - headcanons

simon "ghost" riley | streamer/gamer

you and simon had gotten into an argument earlier

so of course you slip under his desk while he livestreams to get your revenge

he instantly knows what you are doing as soon as he feels a hand tugging down at his sweatpants

doesn't even try to push you away

instead, a provoking and smug smile forms on his face as he bites his cheeks

mutes his mic as soon as your soft lips engulf the tip of his cock

immediately thrusts his dick into your warm mouth, causing you to choke

grabs your hair with one hand and guides you up and down, coating your saliva all over him in euphonies of slurps and gags

you didn’t like fighting and secretly missed the way he filled your mouth to the brim with his length

the chat explodes with messages informing him that his mic stopped working or that he was muted

the sound of you choking on his fat cock is music to his ears

"you think you can beat me at this game? how 'bout we play another one. try not to make a sound when i unmute, hm? if you win, i'll fuck you real nasty later."

john price | ceo

john price is the big-name ceo of the corporation you're employed at, working under him as his personal secretary

before a business meeting, he has you on his knees for him as he slathers his cock all over the tongue that you are sticking out for him

to help the two of you de-stress before the meeting, he says

once the shareholders start entering the room, he moves you under the big desk

the meeting goes along as planned without any hiccups as you silently adore his throbbing cock with your mouth

he contains his composure, continuing to write notes on his paper

being the tactical leader he is, he sees this as another challenge

occasionally, he lets out a sigh through his nostrils when he feels his tip hit the back of your throat

nearing the end of the meeting and reaching his climax, he looks down to see a mouthful of his girth stuffing your face

the tears in your eyes is what gets him. he knows it took a lot for you to stay quiet

he plans to praise you later for it

as the meeting ends, he releases his cum into your mouth, prompting you to swallow all of it

"come to my office later, angel. i need you to help me manage my schedule."

the rest of his daily agenda consisted of cancelled meetings and a full 24 hours of fucking you all over his office - against the bookshelf, bent over his desk, and with plenty new positions you never imagined were possible

kyle "gaz" garrick | librarian

it's finals season and the library had become your second home

thankfully, it was a bit more bearable as you had someone you knew to bother when taking your study breaks

needing a hiatus from your session, you decide to go bother kyle

making sure no one was looking, you slide under the front-desk of where he was sitting and pull out his dick

he looks at you wide-eyed and asks what you are doing

you ignore him, careful to make eye contact while playfully sucking on his balls

he covers his mouth in embarrassment

asks if you can do this another time, preferably when he wasn't working

but as soon as you let go of his cock, he swiftly scoots closer and holds your head to push your mouth back on him, causing you to let out a soft gag

he lets you take the lead with your mouth, appreciating the visual of your bobbing head going down on him

you make him feel so good that he ends up whining softly with each bounce

the two of you try your best not to let out any sound, weary of the silent atmosphere

you guys are in a library, for fuck's sake

this causes him to grip onto the table and bite his lips in hopes of preventing himself from making any more noise as he cums all over your face

his cock twitches as he slathers the evidence of his climax all over your face

"fuck. i wish i could let them hear how well you were sucking me. you’d probably like that, huh?"

john "soap" mactavish | personal trainer

john accidentally double-scheduled a training session with you and another person that day

luckily, you had come in early to his gym office, surrounded two-way with glass wall partitions

with time to spare, he gladly shows you some new stretching exercises he wanted to incorporate into his lessons

you tell him that you want to test your flexibility

he's not sure what you mean but once you pull him over to his desk and unzip his pants to reveal his already rock-hard cock, he smirks

something about seeing you in your workout attire

you bend over into a bridge pose as he fucks your mouth

he hisses at the sight of your bent-over-backwards body sucking on him. fuck, this is so hot, he thinks

the way his ball sacks were slapping against your face made him feel dizzy

he instructs you to switch to the next position, the upward-facing dog

soap was losing all his inhibition, groaning loudly with each suck

every time he told you to switch to a new orientation, you showed him without fail, your skills

it was the bow pose that had made him release in your mouth, seeing how your hands were bound behind you pushed him far off the edge

"i'm cancelling the session with the other person. by the time i'm done, i want you fully naked and ready for me to fuck the shit out of you."

[motthe]

hiii !! just read like ,, a BUNCH of ur lumen au stuff ,,,, truly i am brainrotted now because i'm just thinking of so many different scenarios involving the lumens and i am just . EXCITED !!! its SUCHHHH a good concept im a big big sucker for soulmate stuff ,,,,

i was just wondering how you feel about jayvik x reader ,,,, TWO lumens ,,,,,,,, idk if you write for anything poly or not, but id love to hear your thoughts on it !!! either through headcanons or a ficlet, whichever you feel like :]

my first viktor x reader x jayce piece i’ve ever written… wait is this my first poly drabble?? it might be actually! i hope it’s fun to read ♥️

warnings: fem!reader, slight negative feelings of not being good enough, but overall fluff!!!

The scientific jargon that came with having not one but both of your fated being inventors was overwhelming. The words they tossed around became an entire other language since you’d all gotten closer. It left you feeling unbearably empty-headed, wondering why the universe would bond you to such intelligent men.

They were already changing an entire city with their ideas, and you would bet the world would soon bear their mark as well. In comparison, you were a meager artist making ends meet at festivals and street corners. Sure, maybe your work could be seen on a few shop signs or covering a wall or two in a cafe, but that was as famous as you’d ever be—a stranger to the passing eye.

“We need to widen the cylindrical chamber, maybe add an exhaust pipe to help with the cooldown.”

Jayce’s voice slipped through your head, smooth and confident and making no sense. You’d gotten rather good and tuning out the meat of the conversations, only recognizing the tones and emotions.

The heavy, warm accent of Viktor’s replied, swirling in the back of your mind as your pencil swiped over the heavy parchment against your thighs.

Recently, they’d begun inviting you to their lab to spend your free time in their company. There were two desks to choose from, though they were usually piled high with blueprints or notes. Jayce had moved a couch into the space for your comfort, placed in the corner and under a window, well away from any dangerous work they had their hands on, though they usually took anything too precarious into another portion of the building.

Their assistant, Sky, was in and out, always double-checking if you needed anything. She was a kind young woman, curly hair and glasses and a smile that made anyone feel at home. She brought you your own coffee and snacks, promising it was no trouble since she was already bringing them to Viktor and Jayce, anyway.

“You actually eat them,” she chuckled. “Jayce will if he notices they’re there, but it’s a long shot most days.”

You understood what she meant, seeing how focused the men became on their gadgets and studies. You’re sure if you got up and left they wouldn’t notice for a good, long while.

Today was one of those days, though there was peace in your private little corner as you sketched away. You squinted over the top of your sketchbook, skimming the outline of Viktor’s goggles pressed into his thick, winding hair and quickly adding the little licks of tresses to the paper before he was moving again.

You switched targets, taking in Jayce’s side profile and adding a bit more depth to his eyebrow and under eye.

Taking a moment to look between both drawings, you were hit with their beauty once more.

Jayce was deemed the academy’s “pretty boy,” with his strong jaw and perfect smile. He was a clean cut handsome, peak health and built with broad shoulders. He knew how to use those looks to his advantage.

On the other end was Viktor. He was a haunting beauty, sleek and angular. If he had the same charisma with speaking to the masses as Jayce did, that accent would gain him more than a fair share of admirers, but his confidence and skills lied elsewhere. He had a sharp eye and wore his emotions rather loudly on his face.

Where Jayce had faint lines from how much he smiled, Viktor had a feather soft crease between his brows from how often he furrowed them. Where the golden boy’s hands were always warm, his partner’s was cold. They made such gorgeous opposites, yet they held so many comparisons in mannerisms when it came to their shared hobbies and passions.

It was safe to say you adored them and their intricacies.

Taking a slow, deep breath you checked both shoulders before moving the tuft of black in your periphery into your hand. Gold shimmered between the dark mass that made up Jayce’s lumen, settling deeper into your palm as you raised your arms and stretched.

When you moved your drawing pad to the side, you spotted Viktor’s wedged between the apex of your thighs. Swallowing your gasp, you scooped it up, praying it hadn’t been smushed the entire time.

“When did you get there?” you whispered, rubbing your pointer finger into the tawny fuzz of his light. His lumen had always had a bit more give to it, leaving it to wedge itself under your leg or your shirt collar. Viktor’s preferred to be as close as possible to you, even if it left his lumen squished.

Jayce’s lumen was firmer, still soft but in a velveteen sort of sensation. It was bigger, taking up a good portion of your palm. Now your second month with it, you’d learned if it wasn’t on one of your shoulders, it was likely circling your head. His never went far either.

You wondered if you’d received Jayce’s lumen first, if it would have more of an attachment to you. As it stood, you’d had Viktor’s since you were young while he’d held Jayce’s and Jayce yours. The three of you being tied together had become quite the story as there went many outward poly fateds in Piltover, but luckily the gawking had passed after the first handful of weeks.

It was only a few days ago that Viktor confessed he’d been rather confused when he’d met Jayce and the lumens had flashed against one another.

“There were no similarities,” he’d explained, holding up one long, thin finger for your lumen to rest on as it hovered in front of him. The three of you were cozied up in your lackluster apartment—a studio more than a bedroom but it had a nice pullout couch and plenty of blankets to rest on in front of your heater. “Jayce was ecstatic, of course, but I was ruminating over your lumen when we first met.”

“I thought he hated me,” Jayce had murmured, breath warm against your ear as you laughed.

“I did not hate you,” huffed Viktor on your other side, rolling his eyes as he dropped his hand, your lumen resting within. “I wasn’t aware we had a third, yet—it was puzzling.”

“I had to explain it to him,” Jayce chuckled. “One of my old friends was in a poly.”

“And, then, he was even more ecstatic,” Viktor sighed but there was affection in it. “I thought you’d follow him home some nights.”

“And leave you all by yourself?” You laid your head on his shoulder, grinning as his eyes fled. It was still so early into the relationship, and he grew flustered with physical affection whereas Jayce sought it every chance. “I’d never.”

“It’s better now, we’re all together,” Jayce hummed, lowering to lay his head in your lap. You brushed your hand through his hair, smiling as his lumen lit up in Viktor’s lap.

“Yes,” Viktor had agreed, careful as he laid his head against yours. “It all feels…complete.”

Your chest warmed at the memory as you held both of their lumens in your hands, giving a fleeting kiss to each. Viktor’s snuggled happily into your palm while Jayce’s pulsed a happy gold before flying off, likely to check in with Viktor.

As your eyes lifted to follow its journey, you jumped when you found Jayce smiling from a few feet away by his desk. He seemed to be shuffling through some papers. Your lumen floated just nice his head, twinkling in the sunlight that shone through the windows behind you.

“Didn’t see you there,” you said, stretching your legs out before standing. Viktor’s lumen left your hand, keeping close to your neck.

“I hope you’re not bored.” He opened an arm up and you approached. You still grew giddy with any chance to be wrapped in his embrace, quick to accept the invitation.

“I like spending time here with you both,” you assured, giggling as he bent down to kiss your forehead. “Gives me plenty of practice.”

His eyes lit up, one of those dark eyebrows lifting. “Oh?”

“I know what you’re about to ask—”

“Please?” His arm wrapped tighter around your waist. “I wanna see.”

“They’re just rough sketches!” you laughed, pushing against his chest.

“C’mon, I bet they’re great! I’m sure Viktor wants to see them, too.”

You shook your head, a mess of giggles as he wrapped both arms around you and slowly edged his way towards the couch.

“Did someone call my name?” asked Viktor, turning from the machine he was working on. A torch was in his hand but luckily still off for the time being. Jayce’s lumen was sitting on his knee.

“Viktor tell her you want to see her art!” Jayce goaded.

“Tell him he needs to wait for a real piece,” you threw back, wrinkling your nose at him as he stuck his tongue out.

“You’ve been drawing us?” Viktor’s voice seeped with awe and innocent curiosity. “May we see?”

Jayce bounced his eyebrows at you, all too smug. “Told you.”

“Fine—fine!” you sighed, throwing your hands up and wiggling out of his hold as you went to grab your canvas notebook. “Don’t gripe when you see your half-finished faces.”

The tap of Viktor’s crutch intermingled with Jayce’s footsteps as they met you by the couch. As you handed over your work, Viktor was the one to accept it as Jace stood over him. Both their eyes went wide at the current page and your hand went straight to your arm as you shuffled in place.

“Those are just warmups, so…”

“Warmups?” Jayce breathed, looking up from the notebook. “These are amazing!”

“I have to agree, the detail is astounding,” Viktor hummed, looking to turn back a page. He caught your eyes before he did. “Is this all right? Tell us if we’re overstepping.”

“No, it’s okay! I’m used to people watching me draw on the street, it’s just… I don’t know.” You shrugged, bringing a hand up as Viktor’s lumen rubbed against your neck. Jayce’s was just settling on your shoulder again. “I care about what you guys think. It’s not anything big like you do, but…”

“Big?” Jayce echoed, both of their sights set on you.

“Well, it’s not as important as what you both do is what I mean.”

“Of course it’s important,” Viktor argued, expression stern.

“But it’s art!” you laughed, waving off the sudden seriousness growing from them. “It’s helping a bunch of people like your creations do. That’s much more important.”

“Art is just as, if not more, important,” he continued, passing the notebook to Jayce. “We are helping people in different ways, but do not do yourself the disservice and think what you create is anything less than what we do.”

“He’s right,” Jayce agreed, holding up your work. “This? This speaks to people. Your work can bring life to a room and lets people save a special moment in time.”

“Okay, don’t butter me up so much or I’ll melt!” you squeaked, too embarrassed to look at them as they chuckled and continued flipping through your sketches. It wasn’t long before the three of you were on the couch, both of them pointing out their favorites.

“Is my hair truly that messy?” Viktor grumbled, raising a hand to it. “Perhaps I should cut it.”

“No, I like it,” you said, grabbing his wrist. “You twirl it when you’re thinking! It’s so sweet.”

He blinked at you. “I do?”

Jayce whistled and you turned and gasped, completely forgetting the drawing you’d done of him in the forge. It was more from memory so your imagination had left it a bit more detailed than the rest.

“Okay, that’s enough!”

You swiped for the book, shutting it as Jayce laughed. Viktor rolled his eyes, smirking as he nudged your shoulder.

“Should I be worried of any scandalous pieces of me in there?”

You pouted, holding the notebook tighter to your chest.

“Oh?” Jayce breathed. “She didn’t say no!”

“You two are the worst!” you groaned, unable to help yourself from smiling as they both laughed in tandem.

[exuvianen]

dating hc's with dr. ratio, aventurine + blade!

headcanons about what these hsr men do in a relationship witth you <3

cw: x reader, gn! reader (no physical descriptions), mostly fluff, sfw, headcanon style

notes: hsr brainrot… ahahaha... i hope i have a fairly good grasp on these characters and wrote them well. 

wc: ~1050 words, around 350 words per character. all under the cut!

feel free to drop an ask or to add on to my thoughts! likes + rbs are appreciated  <3

✎ Dr. Ratio:

He likes parallel play, or being alone together with you. He works on his own projects, like grading papers or writing a new thesis while you’re doing your own thing, like playing video games or reading. Occasionally, he might ask you for your input, such as ideas about his next thesis or what pose he should sculpt himself into next. 

He has a spare desk and chair for you in his office. You can choose to do work or entertain yourself there when you visit him and he’s still teaching a lecture, but feel free to take a nap on the plush sofa he bought just for you. 

He will nag you about your health but in an annoyingly endearing way. He fusses over you, telling you about appropriate attire for today’s weather, offering you an umbrella, and reminding you to drink water. 

He entertains all your ideas, no matter how silly or illogical. He’ll hear you out on anything you say, though he might have some very strong disagreements or objections to your ideas, especially if they are silly or completely nonsensical. However, he never turns you away when you bound up to him with a mischievous gleam in your eyes - he just sighs and prepares himself mentally to hear whatever goofiness comes out of your mouth. 

He’s your biggest cheerleader, supporter, and advocate. Though he may come off as intimidating, he is always willing to help advance your career or work. He has many connections and vast knowledge of the universe after all - why not utilize them for his beloved? 

He’s very good at dispelling any irrational thoughts in your head. If you’re panicking and your mind is disoriented, he’ll sit next to you and hold your hand gently, but firmly to ground you. He doesn’t speak at all when you vent out all your frustration, confusion, or anger - rather, he’s silently contemplative and then asks questions when you finish talking. He’ll indirectly guide you to a solution while gently calming you down as he dispels those pesky thoughts from your head.

He makes a custom alabaster head for you. 

♤ Aventurine:

A big fan of matching accessories and clothing. You don’t need to wear the exact same outfit, but he likes wearing complementary colors and jewelry to yours.

If you’d like, he’d be more than happy to bring you to casinos and public events with him. He wants to show off to you and let you witness his wit, talent, and skill like a peacock presenting its colorful feathers. 

He likes it a lot when you trace his skin through the spade-shaped hole in his outfit.

He hates the feeling of being vulnerable, but he likes being around you. This creates conflicting emotions inside of him. Oftentimes, he doesn’t know how to deal with it and just lurks by you. Pull him into a hug to quiet the voices in his head. 

He will send you packages or luxury items from the planets he’s visiting. You’ll be greeting a disgruntled Topaz or IPC soldiers at your door as they hand you various gifts ranging from limited-edition jewelry to flowers that bloom only once every 200 amber eras. He gifts extremely grand things, but he always knows how to find things that suit your tastes.

He’s a big spender on you. If you’re unused to the amount of money he’s willing to throw at you, he’s going to give you a lot of “exposure therapy” with his generosity. He’ll invite you to private auctions, lavish galas, luxury boutiques, and high-end jewelry stores. He’ll start filling your wardrobe with tailor-made clothes with the excuse that you should match his outfits when you attend formal events together, but his clothing contributions eventually infiltrate your closet pretty deeply. 

He enjoys being pampered and pampering you. Self-care nights are a must - as a representative of the IPC and one of the ten Stonehearts, he has to keep himself presentable and looking sharp, and that goes for his partner too! He’s more than happy to spend money to fund your trips to the salon or buy you any beauty products to use at home. He’d love to put on face masks together and share a drink or two with you. 

☠︎︎ Blade:

If you want to, and Elio’s script permits, he will bring you along on missions to safer planets. He’ll drop you off at a commercial district - feel free to go shopping or try out some novelty food while he wraps up his Stellaron Hunter business.

He likes getting his hair brushed. One of his favorite activities is sitting down and letting you comb through his hair after he cleans up from a mission. It’s an activity that leaves him vulnerable, but he doesn’t mind if it’s with you.

He’s an acts of service kind of guy. He moves to take your bags before you even say anything, holds open doors, and pulls out chairs for you. Brings you a cup of water and some fruit when you’ve been working for too long, and silently drapes his jacket over you when you shiver.

Tell him you like a certain pastry and he’ll show up every day and bring some. Show him a picture of a pretty flower and he’s boarding a spaceship to bring the flower to you personally. If you want something, he’ll do his best to get it.

He’s pretty quiet, but he’ll remember everything you say, what your preferences are, and what you like. He secretly writes it down in case his memory gets murky, and he’ll often reread his notes to remind himself.

He gives simple but traditional gifts to you, such as jade bracelets and pendants, and combs and hairpins if you have longer hair to wear or use them.*

He’ll treasure anything you gift to him. If you make an accessory for him, he wears it at all times. If your gift is small enough, he’ll stow it safely in his pockets and take it everywhere with him.

If family is important to you, he’ll send funds their way and ensure that they’re taken care of. 

As someone who’s often dead and then undead, his body can get stiff. He’ll enjoy it immensely if you massage him, and accompany him for his daily stretches and calisthenics. Even if you just hold him for a while, he finds that his muscles will relax from the warmth emitting from your body. Therefore, he quite appreciates having you physically near him.

* Combs, hairpins, Jade bracelets, and pendants were given as tokens of love and affection in Ancient China. These gifts have a deeper meaning/symbolism, but for the sake of post length, I did not write them all out. 

[norikuna]

regular/modern!human x true form sukuna boyfriend headcanons for fun <3 mainly for my pookie @kasukuna bc that's who i think of when i think of bf!sukuna

sees that men get their lovers cute things like flowers and chocolate and thinks its overrated. sukuna realises he needs to up his game with a romantic gesture, and thinks its cool to carve your name into a tree with his claws. you catch him picking bark from out under his dark nails.

saw that you made smoothies in the morning with breakfast and waited till you left the house to try it for himself (he always said he didn't care for them but he just doesn't want to admit). sukuna threw together a ripe banana, a loaf of bread and a whole METAL can of tuna and turned the blender on. you came home to a broken, smoking blender and a gross, banana-covered king of curses who acted like this was your fault.

no table manners, sorry. you think that the happiest you've ever seen sukuna is when you're back with the groceries and there's a raw leg of lamb wrapped up in butcher's paper. delights in the idea of a rare cooked steak, but prefers to eat them bloody.

if you study (say you're in college or university) he claims he doesn't give a flying fuck about what you learn, and doesn't understand the concept of degrees. he wonders why people just aren't allowed to practice their trade, and why they need a piece of paper first. but when you're not around, he reads through your textbooks and quotes them to you afterwards. but sukuna pretends he just already knew all that shit anyway.

absolutely no patience in the morning for lazying around. you figure a big, massive being like himself can sleep through sunrise. but he's got unblinking, freaky eyes and when you crack open your eyelids in the morning, he's already looking down at you, demanding that you get up and not waste your day. at first, you worry that he just doesn't even sleep. you need not worry about that, he can knock himself flat out like an elephant that bathed in nyquil.

you asked him to help with dinner one day. kind of annoying how sukuna's very good at malicious noncompliance. you know that he is an expert in all things sharp and weapon-like, and a kitchen knife is no exception. and yet, he decides to use his long claws to cut the parsnip, slicing through them very slowly in a way that drags and creaks agains the chopping board.

sukuna rages over mario kart and rainbow. has grown oddly obsessed with the leaderboard and claims that he will vanquish the player titled 'sixeyes1989' that keeps calling him rude names online.

thinks siri is mocking him and sulks the entire day at this automated voice that seems to not understand what hes saying. you ask sukuna to gently release the grip he has on your phone before he shatters it. again.

you mentioned something about how sweet it is that your friend's boyfriend leaves her little cute notes with love affirmations on it. the next day, you find sweeping yet scrawled foreign symbols on peeled sticky notes. turns out that his version of cute love notes are ominous, medieval runes that are protection spells against curses.

does NOT play fair in games night. sukuna burned all the monopoly money when you charged him rent for mayfair. invents random words and claim they're from his era in scrabble, and he insists they count. almost set something on fire during go fish and ate the cards. has sat on a chessboard just so you wouldn't win.

[watcher7-9]

HSR men with Christmas: Headcanons

Note: Merry late Christmas 😓 this is gonna be the Christmas special ><

Featuring: Sunday, Dr.Ratio, Danheng, and Jiaoqiu

Sunday:

-Was indeed a child that believed and celebrated the holidays to the max. Decorations were seen everywhere and took pride in his work as he hung up the lights and tried to fly to put the star at the top of the tree. When he was young he tried to make a trap to catch Santa but fell asleep half way through. Kept on trying to pinch his wings to keep himself awake.

-His face will heat up when he finds you two conveniently under a mistletoe did it on purpose. When you two finally kiss his wings will flutter as he cups your cheeks in his hands, keeping you from pulling away. His wings make a little protective wall so that others won’t see.

-Definitely that one friend that hosts most of the Christmas parties and starts to stress it the first day of December. Has a checklist of everything he has to plan and do for the party. Even if he’s not hosting he’s usually one to bring food over or coming early to help with preparations.

Dr. Ratio:

-He knew at a young age that Santa wasn’t real so he would always argue with the little kids which led to him getting a talking to by the adults. But he does get why the holiday is celebrated and indulges in the traditions.

-Wraps the best Christmas presents and get irritated at other people’s wrapping skills. When the holiday is approaching and after buying gifts he’ll set up a small station on a table. Wrapping paper, tape, and rulers of all sorts. Measuring and cutting the perfect length before folding the corners precisely. If your also there he’ll offer tips or he’ll just do it himself of how much the corners irritate him.

-You had convinced him to go build a snowman with you outside. He even made a plan for you: how big the snowman will be, the decorations but in the end you had made him put all of the planning aside and to freehand it. In the end the snowman did look a little unpatched on the sides, the carrot was a little off…but this time he didn’t mind. Maybe it’s because he built it with you.

Danheng:

-During this time of the year the Express is always bustling. Pom Pom is hanging up the decorations around the train and had asked the members to help out. He was usually on light duty because he could reach the highest and didn’t have the heart to let poor Welt hurt his back. Though he usually looks timid to say the least the holidays does bring joy to him. Everyone’s so happy especially you, how could he not be happy.

-During March’s photo shoots he was always the reindeer. Reindeer ears and a brownish outfit as March set up her camera for the family photo. Told you to hush when you teased him about it, though you could see a red tint on his face if you looked close enough.

-One of the pros during the winter time is that every time you guys are done playing in the snow he’ll have an excuse to cuddle up with you when you guys get back. Saying that your hands are too cold he’ll hold them tightly in his or worrying that your shivering when your not. Cuddling you as his tail wraps around your waist tightly.

Jiaoqiu:

-Loves making new foods to try out every time winter rolls around. Winter time is the best time to eat spicy food. Making youtry out new nutritional dishes he cooks up and revises his works to perfection. Seeing you so happy to eat his food makes him very prideful of his work.

-Always the one to fret about the cold. Telling you to wear warmer layers and that you’re gonna get sick. He isn’t one to enjoy the cold that much and he rather stay inside the comfort of his own home especially after he got blind. When you come back inside he’ll get you bundled up with a warm cup of tea and a thick blanket around you after you took off your soaked clothes. Sometimes you’ll sneak attack his tail with your cold hand which will make him jump.

-Huge board game player. A stack of different games on the side as you two gather around the table. The fire crackling in the background, snacks and drink, and a movie as background noise. The Game of Life, UNO, Jenga. Anything that seems exciting he’ll play with you. But most of the time it’s usually him winning.

[spxllcxstxr]

Viktor Getting into a Relationship with a Male S/O • Headcanon

(Gif not mine)

Request: I was wondering if you could do some Viktor x male!reader headcannons? Like establishing/getting into a relationship with him. Thank you for your consideration. :) — anon

Warnings: m/m pairing, lowkey kinda academy vik/a wee bit before season 1? Kinda short I’m sorry!!!!!

A.N: these are short I’m sorry!! I don’t think I used any pronouns but the reader and vik are referred to as gay, I hope these are ok! I’ve never really written m/m so it was a little outside of my own box!

•

At the time of your first meeting, Viktor was already quite comfortable in his sexuality. It wasn’t a well known fact about him though, only Jayce knew (and let’s be honest, Heimer knows what’s up)

It certainly wasn’t love at first sight for Viktor when he first saw you, head buried in a research paper, but you did in fact catch his eye. You were quite handsome and obviously smart, your red scribbles in the margin of the paper indicated that you at least understood the topic. Unfortunately, Viktor reasoned that he had more important things to focus on and had no time for extracurriculars

That was until you started strolling into his lab, notebook in hand, asking so many questions and jotting his answers down before strolling back out. It was an assignment from some professor Viktor never really liked but damn were they doing him a favor now

Viktor is the one that starts finding you outside the lab—sometimes he would see you in the library or walking through the corridors, and he musters up enough courage to actually ask you about yourself. He starts off small, knowing that not only is he a bit of an introvert, but you are too (at least in front of him you are)

You, on the other hand, were smitten with Viktor almost immediately. You loved his passion and curiosity, especially when it came to science and his own experiments. Viktor was dedicated to helping others as well. In front of him you acted like a tittering school girl with a crush--you fumbled over your words and your cheeks got hot--it was embarrassing

When your professor gave you the opportunity to note down the goings on in the labs, you were ecstatic. (Not just because of Viktor, you told yourself; you loved science as well...interacting with Viktor was quite the bonus though)

Every day you would enter his lab to take note of his progress, and you would practically swoon over the man. The way he would concentrate when experimenting and how passionate he spoke of his findings. (His accent was a plus too). You looked forward to seeing Viktor, not just because you liked him, but because he was becoming a wonderful friend.

It's late at night a few months later when Viktor admits his feelings. You're scribbling down equations in your notebook, trying to help Viktor figure out a component of his work when the slender man stops mid sentence, amber eyes gazing at your frame. Viktor first nervously admits that he likes men, flinching at your sudden laugh at the confession. He was gay, you were gay...that school girl crush had hope after all. Viktor then rests a shaky hand on your own, thumb lightly tapping against the bad of your hand

“I…I must confess something else, (Y/n). You much know that I have grown fond of you, no? That for once in my life I actively search someone out? I fancy you, and I believe you…feel the same?”

Viktor easily melts your heart with that. You both lean in for a kiss—soft and filled with emotion

Establishing your relationship is pretty easy at the start. It starts out the same just with added kisses in the corner of the lab, dates at small, hole in the wall restaurants. He’s very easy to love and care for…and he is very happily in love with you too

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