#wry headcanons

[wrylu]

cod headcanon that nikolai uses like 18 in 1 shampoo and i won't elaborate

[fgumi]

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ LOSER IN A HOT MAN'S BODY

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 { PAIRING; non-idol!heeseung x reader, GENRE; fluff, school!au, headcanon, WC; 2.8k, A/N; i love losers that love that girlfriends entirely too much but, at the same time, not enough. TAGS; @en-dream @heeheesang @httpenhoon @r1kification @seungheartyou, @starfallia @sugarikiz @hoondolls @bamguetismee @jnysaln @cixrosie @wensurr @heartheejake @m1kkso }

(˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶) .ᐟ.ᐟ part two is up!

loser!heeseung was never the first one to get chosen for anything. well, he did get chosen first for musicals and solos! he had a beautiful voice and there was no denying that. but, for anything else? nope. it wasn't until you transferred over to his high school that he got picked willingly (and not because you guys were the only two left). you approached him in gym class after your teacher said to partner up for conditioning. "hey! i'm y/n. do you think we could be partners today?"

heeseung just blinked at you and then turned to see if someone was behind him. when he verified you were talking to him, he turned back to see you with a bemused look, a slight crease forming right between your brows. "you are talking to me, right?" he asked nervously.

a wry smile formed on your lips as you nodded. "there’s no one else around."

heeseung couldn't believe it. someone who wasn't a part of the theatre department was talking to him! so, he agreed with only a moment's hesitation. by the time sit-ups came around, heeseung knew about your basic interests and one secret: you were big on anime. you explained to him, during his sad attempts at pushups, that you loved anime but remained closeted because the boys at your last school made it weird. heeseung was careful not to let his excitement show; he didn't wanna scare you off before he really got to know you. eventually, after all the hellish exercises your teacher put you through, heeseung shyly asked you why you wanted to be partners.

"you looked like the type that doesn't judge people for struggling," you replied after drinking your water. you wiped the droplets of water that trickled down your neck and then offered heeseung some. "i don't have cooties. promise."

he gave you a faint, unsure smile, his hand reaching out slowly, half expecting you to pull it back and say psych! but you didn’t. you just patiently waited for him to take it. honestly, he just looked like a spooked deer to you, and you couldn’t help but find it endearing. after class was over and it was time for lunch, heeseung deflated. it was nice talking to you while it lasted.

“heeseung! wait up!”

he turned to you with round eyes, watching you rush over, a backpack draped over your right shoulder. you were freshly showered, water still dripping off the ends of your hair. you looked... happy? you slowed to a stop right in front of him.

“do you mind if we eat together?”

you wanted to eat with him? a cool girl like you wants to eat with a certified loser like him?

“it’s okay if you already have plans! i think i can find somewhere else to sit.”

no! you jumped a little. heeseung retracted into himself, rubbing the back of his neck. he’s never had someone ask to eat with him. he just sort of sat with his theatre classmates—not even friends. they all thought he was weird. you gave him a puzzled look.

“are you sure? you don’t have to pity me just because i’m new,” you pouted. gosh, was it just him or did everyone find you adorable?

“i’m sure. i was just hesitant since i’m not known for being, you know, popular.”

rolling your eyes, you clapped a hand on his shoulder. “as if that actually matters.” you tugged him along, linking your arm with his. thank goodness you were busy looking for the cafeteria because heeseung was struggling to keep the blush off of his face. as much as heeseung didn’t want to get his hopes up, he hoped that you guys would become real friends.

loser!heeseung loved his hobbies. he could talk about them for hours; they were his passion. he loved playing maple story, league of legends, team fight tactics, going to the renaissance fair, studying the metrics of trot (this one was a little too niche to really talk about though). none of these passions were greater than his passion for you. this man was dedicated to learning everything there was to know about you now that you were friends. you teased him about how stalkerish he sounded. almost immediately, he apologized.

the way his shoulders shrunk and eyes drooped down, you were definitely the asshole. when he stopped talking, you panicked. so, you didn’t think. you kissed his cheek. you blinked. he blinked. you blinked at each other. you know that ouran high school host club scene where tamaki realized haruhi is a girl and she complimented him? you’d bet your whole house that’s how red you were because you could feel the heat radiating off your face.

heeseung’s mind was still white noise. any sounds that were supposed to reach his ears were muffled, like he was underwater. was he underwater? was he dragged down into the depths of the styx river only to be lost forever? was he dreaming to cope with the harsh reality of his death? was he—

“heeseung?” you meekly called. “i’m sorry. i shouldn’t have done that without your consent. that was—”

he must’ve called upon achilles’s guidance and invincibility because he didn’t know where he got this courage otherwise. what courage you may ask? well, the courage that planted heeseung’s lips on yours.

your lips were so soft. they tasted like strawberries. he wondered if strawberries were your favorite fruit. he could kiss you forever. oh crap, he was kissing you.

anxiety crept up his spine, invading his every nerve; it was telling him he had to pull away or else you’d leave him forever. except, when he started moving away, he noticed you followed, reluctant to end the kiss. your eyes were closed too. he could’ve sworn they were open from shock.

heeseung could feel his back creaking in protest at the odd angle; he would’ve fallen over if it weren’t for you clutching the front of his shirt. huh? oh! maybe, you liked the kiss! you liked the kiss, like he did! oh, but now he couldn’t breathe. what should he do? he didn’t want the kiss to end.

he pressed back, holding out until the last possible moment. but you pulled away first, gasping for air. a blush dusted your cheeks and heeseung could guess that he was red too—probably not as pretty of a shade as yours though.

“s-sorry,” he stammered as you caught your breath. “i don’t know why i—”

you shut him up with another kiss (but this one was too short for heeseung’s newfound thirst for kissing you). when you pulled away, his big eyes tugged at your heart. they looked so sad that you moved away. it made you giggle—this whole situation. for someone that was trying to learn everything about you, he sure did miss your huge crush on him.

loser!heeseung didn’t know how he got so fortunate. was he a luck domain cleric in real life? he felt like he was rolling nat 20s continuously. he managed to ask you out (though, he was stuttering the whole time and nearly tripped on top of you—it was a whole affair that he’d rather forget) and be dating you 3 years later? he was one lucky man. and, some might say even luckier as time went on.

you got more confident once you guys got to college and, thus, you got hotter. you found your sense of self and your fashion reflected it. heeseung wasn’t doing so bad either. he found people that he got along with and could proudly (read: shyly) call friends. he found beomgyu in the league discord server that the university had and jeongin in d&d club! he’d meet up with them every once in awhile whenever they all felt like they needed to touch grass. of course, his friends knew you came first. you were heeseung’s everything. what they couldn’t wrap around their heads was how heeseung was your everything.

“you’ve been dating for 3 years!? no way, man.” “are you secretly rich? the son of some big conglomerate?” “all offense, she’s hot and you’re… not.”

heeseung didn’t let that bother him. his friends were idiots that had never felt the touch of a woman. plus, you trained him better (you told him to stop talking about himself like he was your pet, but he refused). you loved him so much without any strings attached. you were patient with him and listened to him ramble about how league kept nerfing his favorite character with every update. you never tried to change him and you told him it’s because you fell in love with him for how he was. but, there came a day when he wished you did. he happened to overhear a conversation between you and your friends.

“girl, there’s no way you’ve been with heeseung for 3 years and he hasn’t picked up a single thing about fashion from you.” “the face cards are mismatched, ma. you’re up here and he’s not even on this plane.” “don’t you ever get embarrassed whenever you guys go out? i mean, he dresses like he’s stuck in his mom’s basement.” “i hope he compensates in other ways because he’s not doing it where i can see.” “how are you okay with someone that much skinnier than you? doesn’t your body dysmorphia get triggered?”

you stopped talking to those girls after that. however, it didn’t stop heeseung from getting hurt by it. it was true, in heeseung’s eyes. you deserved much better than what he was giving you. how is it that you loved him even though he looked the exact same as he did 3 years ago? there were so many hot guys around and you never so much as turned your head to glance. there was nothing to support his insecurity about being hot enough or being enough in general. nonetheless, that horrid conversation sparked something in heeseung.

“baby, i’m heading to the gym. i’ll be back later to cook us dinner, okay?” if your brows raised any further, they’d merge into your hairline. “the gym?” heeseung nodded firmly. “gotta start working out to combat all the ramen i eat.”

“hee, you haven’t gained weight since we started dating, despite you eating my leftovers and your food. you don’t need to combat anything,” you laughed. when you saw heeseung was still tying the laces on his shoes, you let it go, thinking nothing of it. you kissed him and reminded him to stay hydrated.

thus began heeseung’s gym journey. it was difficult. muscle barely stuck even though he was eating well over 3000 calories. but, he could see his body getting toned, more cut, so he was happy. maybe people would stop looking at the two of you like you were wrong.

his wishful thinking remained at that. despite getting noticeably more fit, people still talked. they talked about his fashion, his haircut, and his hygiene (he thought this one was unfair considering he always did skincare with you and loved doing your nightly routines).

so, on the day you told him you were going thrifting, he asked to tag along. you were taken aback. heeseung never came with you; he didn’t see the point when he had perfectly good clothes at home. but you let him come along. you thought he’d just peruse with you or be there to make sure you paid with the card he gave you (he made a lot of money from his internship and begged you to use it for anything you wanted), but he didn’t. he asked a lot of questions.

“do you think this would look good on me?” “do these go together?” “are these good quality?”

you were excited. going thrifting was one of your favorite hobbies and to see heeseung taking such an interest in it was thrilling. you gave your opinions, always with a disclaimer that fashion is up to preference. he nodded along, processing your words. by the end of your thrifting trip, heeseung went home with a bundle of clothes to wear. the next day, he’d wake up earlier than normal to try and piece his new clothes together. he knew he wasn’t good at it. his friends let him know without reservations. hell, your friends let him know with their skeptical looks. it wasn’t until he talked to sunghoon in the gym that he got some actual constructive criticism.

“you’re taking an interest in fashion?”

“nothing crazy,” heeseung muttered, kicking the dust on the floor. “i just hate the comments y/n gets whenever her friends think i’m not listening.”

sunghoon looked at his gym buddy in pity. “look, man. if everything you’ve told me about your relationship is true, i don’t think y/n cares what you wear. she hasn’t in 3 years. what makes you think it’ll change all of a sudden?”

nothing. he didn’t doubt you. he just got sick at the thought of you having to listen to all those criticisms. so, sunghoon helped him. he showed him his pinterest moodboard and made heeseung swear to never tell anyone that’s how he chooses what to wear. after that informative session, heeseung got to work. he used your instagram feed as a reference, wanting to match your aesthetic, and created a moodboard inspired by it. using his pinterest board, he went thrifting by himself. he recalled the countless videos he watched while sorting through the clothes. cotton, not polyester. depending on the stain, you can get it out. tailoring is always an option when you find something that is a little too big!

he was very serious about his transformation. he even digitally scrapbooked the pictures of him in different clothes so he could be like cher in clueless. since then, his fashion started improving. your morning routines together changed ever so slightly with you telling him to spin for you. his heart warmed with every compliment you gave him.

“who is this diva?” “i feel very underdressed. i’m changing.” “are you getting dressed by law roach?” “you’ve been taking dress to impress a little seriously these days.”

heeseung’s confidence soared. now, he wasn’t ashamed to go out with you. your friends weren’t ashamed to be seen with him either. they even went as far as to compliment him! score! he’d gotten brownie points with your friends.

“finally, he’s dressing like a boyfriend fit to be with you, y/n.”

oh, that made you pull the brakes real fast. it completely escaped your mind how much your friends dissed your boyfriend (because you brushed them off as stupid comments). come to think of it, heeseung always did manage to miss the moments where they talked about him, but only by a minute or two. what if… what if he did hear those comments?

curious and worried, you asked him during your nightly routines. “hee, did… did you start dressing up for any particular reason?”

uh oh. heeseung hated lying to you; it physically pained him. so, he confessed. “i heard what your friends think of me and i didn’t want you to have to keep hearing them say things like that.”

“oh, baby, i’m so sorry you heard that,” you cooed. “i didn’t tell you because not even an atom of me agrees with them. i love you as you are, uni tees, basketball shorts and all.”

heeseung put down the moisturizer and looked down. “i know… i just wanted people to stop thinking we’re wrong for each other.”

you frowned and pulled him into a hug. “well, we know we’re perfect for each other. i’ve known it from the moment you started talking about the metrics of trot. i remember just nodding along and thinking how beautiful you were.”

heeseung blushed at your words. you always knew how to make him feel better.

“you don’t have to dress up for anyone but yourself, okay?”

he shook his head with a small smile. “i like matching with you. it’s fun.”

“well, i guess we really gotta dress to impress then,” you grinned, kissing his cheek.

with that, heeseung was reassured. no more pressure. he could just dress however he wanted (which was however you were dressing). but, his glow up didn’t stop there. no, he thought about a haircut. he wanted something that would shut your friends up forever. so, after scrolling forever on tiktok, he found that he liked a mullet with some face-framing pieces. he went and got it done at sunghoon’s trusted barbershop and came out a new man. he immediately sent you a picture, to which you responded, “don’t go anywhere. no errands. no grabbing food. come home. now.”

safe to say, you loved his new haircut. he loved his new haircut. he loved it even more when his friends and your friends couldn’t manage words. good. stay that way.

loser!heeseung was still a loser but, at least, he was in a hot man’s body with his very very attractive girlfriend. he still played league. he still larped. he still took the renaissance fair very seriously. he still loved you more than anything in the world. he was still your loser.

disclaimer: this, in no way, reflects the idol. this is purely fiction. ✧ comments and reblogs are appreciated! ✧ give my other works a read too!

[echo-bleu]

Eärendil the Mariner

Who deserves a pirate outfit more than Eärendil?

The background is largely inspired by one of Philip Sue's paintings. It was fun to draw a flat earth!

In other news, I love drawing ships but that was the worst angle possible to figure out. In my head, the Silmaril is at the prow in some kind of glass/mirror lantern that amplifies its light.

I wanted him to look soft, and little wry maybe, rather than fierce. I'm sure he's fierce aplenty but I mostly headcanon him as tired. His fate breaks my heart. Also, it doesn't really show here but my Eärendil is blind from overexposure to the Silmaril (and half-human fragile eyes).

I always waver between giving him locs or a shorter Mannish haircut, but his hair is really too kinky for the shoulder-length, Aragorn-style cut, so locs it is!

IDs in alt text.

[k-nahriko]

𝐓𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐨𝐟𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐨𝐟𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫

There were some couples videos that I've seen online, where the girl challenges her boyfriend/husband to see how long it took for him to take off her sweater, by only raising her hands above her head. I can imagine how MC would do this challenge with the LADS men. So, I wrote some headcanons and scenarios about how the boys would react or what they would do when their girlfriend approaches them with her hands above her head without explanation.

Content: SFW, couples challenge, (undressing sweater only), fluff, female reader

【for context, here is a video link of the challenge】

❥ he first assumes you want him to pick you up. As you were lifted off the ground in his arms, you shake your head and giggle while your hands remain above your head. 

❥ he pats you down, trying to find something that you might be hiding. You tell him that’s not what you wanted him to do.

❥ then he takes one of your hands to twirl you around like you're dancing. You smile at the sweet gesture, but you tell him again that wasn’t it. 

❥ he then tries to tease you. “If you’re trying to touch the stars, you need to reach much higher.”

❥ Xavier closes the distance and gives you a small kiss on your forehead. Then he asks if you’re feeling hot as he slowly removes your sweater. You sighed in relief and congratulated him for guessing it right.

❥ Zayne adjusts his glasses and asks you what you were up to. You giggle but don’t give him an answer. Your goal was to make him guess.

❥ he intertwines his fingers with yours, gesturing a rainbow above you with your hands. You give him a wry smile and tell him to try again. This leaves him puzzled, but he is fully indulged in this charade.

❥ he gives you a warm hug, ending up in dismay that you didn’t return it. He smooths out the wrinkles on your sweater as he states, “you shouldn’t keep your hands above your head for too long, your arms will get sore.”

❥ he cups your face in his hands and gives you a sweet kiss on the lips. You feel yourself melt in his kiss, but tell him that he didn’t guess it right.

❥ he then eyes your sweater, and carefully removes it. He smiles as you finally tell him he succeeded in your guessing game. 

❥ you walk up to him while he is painting. He turns to you and is slightly surprised to see you raising both of your hands above your head.

❥ he asks you, “what’s up, cutie? Are you cheering for me? Or did something exciting happen?” 

❥ you left Rafayel’s questions unanswered, confusing him. With a smile, he places his palms flat on yours, enveloping your hands into his. He leans down close enough to where your noses touch. You blush but tell him that he has to guess what is going on. Before he withdraws, he peppers your cheek with kisses.

❥ Rafayel hums as he circles around you. His first guess was that you were trying to model for him for his painting. Then, he notes that your pose would be too difficult to maintain for long.

❥ he continues to inspect you, his hands caressing your hips. His warm touch reaches under the hem of your sweater, resulting in him finally taking your sweater off. He finally sees your amused reaction and tosses your sweater over his shoulder with pride.

❥ Sylus raises an eyebrow upon seeing your hands lifted above your head. He walks up to you and pretends to shoot his finger gun to your chest, he whispers “bang”, assuming that you were surrendering.

❥ your arms remained up and you give him a tiny smile, hinting that he did not pass the challenge. He spins your body in a 360-degree turn, trying to find anything that might be stuck on your clothes.

❥ then, he picks you up in his arms and spins you around. His disappointment was immeasurable as you remained silent and did not wrap your arms around his neck like you usually do. 

❥ after he puts you down, he gives you a peck on the cheek, in hopes of it being the correct answer. Once again, you don’t say a word and wait for him to guess again.

❥ Sylus peeks down at your exposed stomach from your sweater lifting up. He finally understands and takes off your sweater. He chuckles and expresses his amusement. “Very clever of you to use the silent game, sweetie. You always find new ways to challenge me.”

❥ first, he gives you a high five on both hands. Shaking your head with a smug smile, you tell him that wasn’t it.

❥ then he pokes your armpits and sides, tickling you. You laugh and try to withstand his playful attack while keeping your hands up. While Caleb managed to get a reaction out of you, it was clear that was not what you were looking for.

❥ next, he thinks that you want him to lift you in the air with his gravity Evol. You immediately shake your head no and bounce up and down to try giving him a hint.

❥ Caleb’s gaze is drawn to your sweater as it was slightly revealing your stomach from your constant movement. He finally takes it off and asks, “that’s what you wanted me to do?”  You nod and give him a thumbs up.

❥ he laughs and pinches your nose. “All that just so I can take off your sweater? Next time, use your words pipsqueak.”

[zepskies]

https://vm.tiktok.com/ZGdFgGL1y/

I’ve been loving this trend and then realised this could literally bmd Ben and reader asking him to show how he would’ve moved to her in the 80s and even better cause he literally experienced it, I can see him being unwilling to entertain but slowly caving in when he sees she’s not breaking and giving him attention until he tries

LOL that's adorable. 😂 Thanks for thinking of Break Me Down (Soldier Boy x Reader)! Seems to be a theme this week lol! I went ahead and watched that TikTok and again it got me imaging the thing...

Imagine Soldier Boy (Ben) "Sliding Up" to You in the Club

I can imagine that coming up in conversation if the reader in BMD was being subjected to watching another one of his music videos. She'd be teasing him, of course, but he'd be defending himself and his career choices. It was the 80s!

And for your information, Ben says, women were fucking falling over themselves to have him sign their Rapture albums. It was frankly irritating when he went out. Sometimes, he just wanted to relax with a smoke and a glass of bourbon at the club. You scoff at that one.

He looks amused. "What, you think you would've been the only girl in America who didn't cream their panties when I showed up?"

You shoot him a wry brow raise. Do you have to remind him how you two met? Being tied to a chair with zip ties comes to mind.

But then, something else occurs to you. The first time you and Ben actually met was in a smokey club in Medellin, Colombia. You'd been "undercover" then, and though you hadn't danced with him, it makes you think...

"Okay, let's say we're at the club," you pose, with a sly smile. "It's 1983..."

You find the song "Too Shy" on your phone; quintessential 80s pop. The smooth riffs start playing. You get up to start vibing near him in the comfort of your living room. You're just swaying side to side with a little sensuous, playful bounce to your step, your hand movements simple.

Ben doesn't want to smile, but you're making it difficult as he lounges half across the couch.

"Come on. How would you slide up on me?" you taunt.

He arches a brow. "Slide?"

"You know what I mean. What was your move, huh?" you ask, teasing him with the curve of your ass and the sway of your hips in your yoga pants.

You saunter closer to him, beckoning him over to you. All the while you sing to yourself, "Too shy, shyyyy. Hush, hush, eye to eye..."

Ben rolls his eyes, reluctant to rise to your bait. But eventually, your teasing is too much for him to ignore. He pulls himself off the couch and comes up behind you.

He takes your hand while you're purposefully facing away from him, and smoothly turns you around, guiding you back into his arms like he's Fred Astaire. You utter a little gasp and grab onto his shoulders. Your gaze flicks up to his with a smile.

His lips curve as he looks down at you. He matches the vibe of the song as he moves along with you, but then he turns you around, holding you from behind with steady hands sliding down the curve of your waist. His strength is tempered just enough for you to feel it.

He gradually moves closer with every bounce of the beat, and soon every part of his body is molded to yours. Your hands fall over his as you subtly lean back against his chest.

He bows his head near your cheek, smiling, because he can hear your heart beating a little faster. His lips brush the shell of your ear.

"Gotcha."

AN: Once again, this turned into a little headcanon/imagine that I wasn't expecting. 🤣 Last post before I'm off on a trip all weekend! 💚

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@deans-spinster-witch @this-is-me19 @waynes-multiverse @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @spalady26

@nancymcl @emily-winchester @sl33pylilbunny @chernayawidow @spnfamily-j2

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@mrlonelycat @kmc1989 @siampie @kaleldobrev @pieandmonsters

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@jc-winchester @mxltifxnd0m @bleuatlas @luci-in-trenchcoats

[jollyhunter]

24 Kinky Days with Dean x reader - Day 1.

⚝‿︵‿୨♡ ⚝ ♡୧‿︵‿⚝

Pairing: Dean Winchester x fem!reader

Warnings: NSFW - MDNI! - includes explicit sexual content and sex toys, soft!dom Dean. It's a kinky writing challenge, so expect anything at this point, (nothing freaky, don't worry) but it's a surprise calendar so I won't spoil it! Also, English is not my native language

Advent calendar includes: headcanons, snippets, one shots, imagines, blurbs etc.

Words: 2,380

⚝‿︵‿୨♡ ⚝ ♡୧‿︵‿⚝

A/N: If you want to be tagged for the next parts, just let me know. And feedback is welcome!! Enjoy! 🦊

⚝‿︵‿୨♡ ⚝ ♡୧‿︵‿⚝

1st Dec. - Sunshine

“Sunshine?” You repeat the unexpected nickname with a little grin while you sit down on the edge of the motels bed. You were used to sweetheart, darling, love or even baby, but sunshine? “That’s a new one…” you remark with a teasing lift of your eyebrow, your eyes darting from his, back down to the gift on your lap.

“I thought it suited you.” He explains with an expression which was almost too innocent for him. Clearly he is trying his best to hide his knowing smile, but his excited voice betrays him. “Now open it, sunshine.”

“Uh-huh”, Your finger tugs at the unconventional gift paper, which consisted of nothing but a roll of toilet paper that hung loosely around the small package. “Interesting wrapping paper you picked there…” You comment with a wry smile. This was so typical Dean.

He chuckles at your remark, “What can I say? I’m a fan of practical gift wrapping,” he says with a cocky smirk, taking a seat next to you, “It’s eco-friendly.” The mattress dipped down from his weight and your shoulders bumped against each other. He makes a great effort to play it cool, but the slight friction was enough for you to notice the excitement and arousal which was radiating off of him. This just made you wonder even more; What the hell is that sly bastard up to this time?

Dean watches as you carefully unwrap the package, clearly intrigued by what he had given you. “But I promise, the content’s worth the toilet paper sacrifice,” he adds with a playful smirk. There it was again, that all too familiar glint in his green eyes. That flash of ‘oh baby if only you knew’.

At last, you rip the box open, your eyes peering down to be met with… Oh dear lord. Your eyes widen and Dean could see a million thoughts flicker across your face at the moment of realization. This is exactly the reaction he had hoped for. He has to bite the inside of his cheeks to keep a straight face – but fails miserably.

“You stick it where the sun don’t shine… sunshi-”

“I know where it goes.” you cut him short in a sputter, your mind still trying to catch up with this... this gift, “I just- I’ve never-…”

“- done it before. I know,” he finishes for you, his voice a mixture of teasing and reassuring, “Remember that talk we had? About tryin’ new things.” He leans over, his shoulders brushing against your chest as he reaches into the box. “You like it?”, he asks, feigning innocence. He takes the toy out of the box to trace a finger lightly over the small, jewel-adorned plug.

“I-...I- uh-,” You start, but your eyes keep drifting down to the toy in his hand, your mind racing – damnit, you were usually confident and experienced when it came down to these things… but, to be honest, kinky stuff really hasn’t made it into your bedroom so far. But trying these things with Dean for the first time? You’d be damned for missing out on that. And hey, don't knock it till you try it, right?

“Yeh, I like it,” you finally say, trying to muster some of your usual confidence, “I mean… I did say I wanna spice it up...”

That answer hit jackpot in Dean’s expression. He bites his bottom lip, trying to contain his eagerness, yet again, failing miserably. “Well, don’t keep me waitin’,” he teases, his voice just a tad bit lower than usual. You glance down at the toy and back up at him, unsure how to approach this exactly.

Noticing your lost expression, Dean gently takes your hand and leads you to stand up in front of him, him still seated on the edge of the bed. “Strip.” His tone has an authoritative edge to it now, though his eyes remain soft, almost tender as he tries to guide you.

You feel a little shiver run down your spine; that damn voice could have made your knees buckle any time. Nodding slightly, you slowly begin to undress, stripping off layer after layer of clothing until you stand completely naked before him. Dean takes a moment to admire your body, his eyes roaming over every part of you. As his gaze lands on your hips, he speaks again, his voice a low growl. “Now turn around, sweetheart.” He places his hands on your hips, his fingers trailing over your skin, sending a row of shivers through your body. Once you face away from him, you involuntarily bite your lower lip in anticipation. With the toy in his grasp, he speaks again, his voice barely above a whisper. “Get on your hands and knees, sunshine.” You swallow thickly. But again, you obey his command without question and you drop down onto your hands and knees on the floor in front of the bed. By now you can feel the excitement and lust raise more with each of your quickened breaths. And Dean can almost smell your arousal as he has to bite back a groan from it, his bulge growing bigger. He pushes off the bed and places a hand between your shoulder blades, pushing you slightly forward, forcing you to arch your back slightly. He runs his fingertips down your spine, eliciting another small shiver from you. Out of your sight, but still not going unnoticed by your ears, you hear him lick the bottom of his lips at the sight while he could feel all of his blood go south. He leans in close to you, his lips just barely brushing against your ear. “You’re so damn beautiful.”

A small whimper leaves your lips at the praise and the feeling of his firm hands on your bare skin are already enough to make you dripping wet. You hear Dean move behind you, reaching for the lube on the bedside table and what you assume, coating the toy with it. He then gently leans against your back, the cold buckle of his belt and the evidence of his arousal pressing against your bare skin. You bite back a groan from it, silently wishing nothing more but for him to unbuckle those damn pants already. But you know, you’d have to be patient for now, so you keep your needy sounds back as well as you can. At least until you gasp loudly when you suddenly feel the cool, metallic surface make contact with the warm skin of your buttocks. “Relax, baby,” he murmurs, his free hand soothingly massaging the small of your back. “I’ll be gentle.” His voice is even deeper now, filled with lust. You feel his hands continue their exploration, running over your curves and every dip, his calloused fingers caressing you like you are a work of art he wants to savour. His hands send sparks up your spine and you find yourself shudder and your breath hitch whenever his fingers brush across your most sensitive spots. “Now, this might feel a lil’ odd at first,” you hear him whisper, his lips hovering over the back of your neck as you feel his warm breath tingle your skin and the fabric of his flannel rest against your back. “Lemme know if it’s too much, ‘kay?”

“Yeah, I will,” you reassure him in a low mumble, not managing to hide the slight trepidation from your voice while your fingers idly searched the rug for something to dig your fingers into.

Dean feels you tense under his touch and he makes sure to keep his hands firm yet tender, his fingers tracing reassuringly over your skin. “Remember, just relax,” he repeats, his lips grazing your ear as he speaks. A shaky breath escapes your lips and you do your best to loosen up your muscles and melt into his strong hands which always give you a feeling of safety, no matter what you two did. And you two had done a lot of adventurous things so far.

“I’ve got you,” you hear him whisper against your ear again. And this time you could swear you even heard some vulnerability in his voice. You trust him, always, no doubt about that. But it’s moments like these, rare little moments of him giving you a glimpse of how damn much he really cares about you feeling safe and protected in his presence, that makes you eager to reassure him. Maybe even please him a little. You hum a soft “Mhm”, silently giving him the final go.

Then, he begins to slowly press the plug forward, his hand still resting on your back, steadying you. You feel the cool and wet tip sliding further inside, spreading you surprisingly well – but then a little sting makes you gasp from the unexpected feeling, which let your muscles tense up momentarily, before you feel his soothing hands again, and you relax under his touch.

“Shhh, ‘tis alright,” he coos softly, the plug inching inside you at the same time, “Good girl. You deserve a big treat.” Your legs tremble from the sensation and a low whimper leaves your lips – it’s not bad, but still very new and you were constantly fighting the urge to clench your buttocks around the unfamiliar object. When Dean finally stilled in his movement and the toy reached its end, you couldn’t hold back the shaky exhale which was close to a soft moan. Now that your body has adjusted to it, it feels… surprisingly exciting and pleasurable. And damnit, you want more now. You need more.

A sudden pleading whine hits Dean’s ears and his smirk widens into a cocky grin at the needy noise coming from your trembling form. “You want more, sunshine?”

“Yes...please,” you whimper instantly, your hands and knees shifting along the rug, in a desperate attempt to get some friction between your thighs. He groans – this time failing to hold it back in. The sight of you, all needy and exposed and you wearing that pretty jewel adorned-plug that’s twinkling in the low light of the motel room and fuck- he just noticed how wet you are. He briefly grazes his bottom lip with his teeth before he clenches his jaw to force down a swallow, his voice a low rumble under his breath, “Goddamn honey…”. Meanwhile his fingers run along the inside of your wet thighs, scooping up some of your juice like he wanted to make sure that none of it went to waste. He brings his fingertips up to his lips where he then licks them off with a deep groan.

And that just does it to make Dean give in.

Without giving you the chance to prepare, he goes back to your pussy and effortlessly pushes two fingers past your slick lips, drawing a deep moan from you as you feel a shudder go through your body. He keeps one hand on the small of your back, while his fingers pump inside you, relentless and eager to give you the release you deserve. “You were such a good girl,” he praises you, his fingers curling inside you to hit that sweet spot which makes you almost buckle. “Oh God-” you moan shakily, the sensation of his thick fingers filling you up on one side while the butt plug is spreading your other side, was almost too much.

“You can take it, come on,” he challenges you with a gravelly voice, his teeth grazing your neck as if to dare you to talk back. “‘M gonna make sure you get what you deserve and then some,” he whispers against your ear, the sound of it a threat as much as a promise. And then he starts scissoring his fingers while holding you in place with his other hand. You groan loudly, your fingers clutching the next thing they can reach - the damn toilet paper wrapping, which rip and crumple from your nails in an instant. Your hip‘s bucking involuntarily at the increased pressure and a row of guttural moans leave your throat. “F-fuck” you whine breathlessly, the feeling of being spread and stretched becoming almost bordering painful and yet oh so pleasurable as you feel the knot inside you tighten up more and more. The working of his fingers and the pressure in your butt get you close to the edge in record time as you just give in and let him do his magic. Your legs start to shake and if it wasn’t for his fingers dug into the flesh at your hip, you’d have keeled over by now for sure. Dean increases the speed, now his thumb flicking over your swollen bundle of nerves every time he pumps his fingers inside of you again.

“F-fuck, Dean, I- I’m- I’m comin’-” your voice breaks off when his fingers hit your g-spot again and you find yourself whimper into the rug, your nails clawing at the floor.

“That’s it-” he praises you again, now slowing down his pace but thrusting them as deep as he can while his arm slams against the plug, pressing it further in - and that‘s the last push it takes to tip you over the edge. You feel your legs give in as the knot finally bursts and the wave of ecstasy hits you, your walls clenching around his fingers and your body tensing up. Dean keeps you from falling forward, his fingers still going and his grip on your hip tightening while he’s murmuring words that go past your clouded mind. He lets you ride out your hight while your juice is soaking his entire arm. You moan out his name with a final shudder before he lets you collapse to the floor.

Dean looks down at your trembling form, all spent and limp. A satisfied grin spreads across his face while his tongue swipes over his glistening arm, savouring your sweetness and cleaning some of the mess. After a moment, he kneels down behind you, his hands caressing your butt where he pulls the plug gently out, putting it aside before his hands go back to soothingly stroke your arms and legs. He places a row of tender kisses on the back of your neck, his voice a low rumble, filled with affection and pride as he whispers against the nape of your neck. “Happy first advent, sunshine.”

EDIT: I revised some of it. My sleep-deprived brain had left out some parts which I just had to add / adjust.

⚝‿︵‿୨♡ ⚝ ♡୧‿︵‿⚝

Masterlist of opened windows:

1st Dec. - Sunshine 2nd Dec. - Spell Book 3rd Dec. - Lights Out 4th Dec. - Tickle 5th Dec. - Dirty UNO 6th Dec. - (TBA) 7th Dec. - Candlelight 8th Dec. - Hex Play 9th Dec. - Whip Stroke

⚝‿︵‿୨♡ ⚝ ♡୧‿︵‿⚝

Tags: (thank you lovely sweeties, I hope you enjoyed it!)

@deaniemyboo @deansjacket @literallylexa

[justanothermemestrider]

"That's My Girl" - Jago Sevetarion x F! Reader

Ask thee and ye shall receive. Here's a fic based on the sparring headcanon from my Sevetar Assorted Headcanons. The sypnosis: Sev takes you down to the training mat to help you train some sword craft, and things get... spicy

Hope yall ready for some heresy.

CW: NSFW, MDNI

Apologies for grammar and spelling mistakes. Please enjoy!

"I really don't see why this is necessary."

"Really?" Jago asks. "Sweetheart, have you seen what the people on this ship are like?"

"Well yeah, sure," you say. "But I've got you. And if you're not around, Talos and Cyrion always look out for me."

Jago clicks his tongue, twirling the wooden swords he's currently holding in both hands as he considers your words. "That is true," he admits. "But even then, there is always the chance- no matter how small- that you may be caught out alone on this ship." He offers you one of the swords with a smile. "As such, you need to prepared."

You give him a long, unamused look, eyes shifting between his proferred wooden sword and wry, lopsided smile. The skin of his face is a mess of scars and callouses, but underneath all of that is a strong, almost handsome visage with broad cheek bones and a square jaw. His hair is slicked back save for a handful of thin bangs that tumble over his forehead to frame his eyes and nose. Jago's smile broadens into a grin. "Come on, little bird," he says. "If not for you, then for me?"

You let out a sigh. Without a word, you take the sword from his hand.

"Atta girl," Jago chuckles. He steps away from you, then surprises you by sheathing his sword. His grin suddenly turns feral. Before you can ask, he unclasps the front of his tunic and lets it drop to the floor. His torso, like his face, is ravished by scars, though these are far larger and more vicious looking. Bolter holes, chain blade slashes, stab wounds and burn marks; Jago wears the marks of all of these and even more. Black neural ports run down his shoulders and chest, contrasting sharply with his pale skin. But, just like his face, his scars and cybernetics do little to detract from the beauty of the body beneath them. You can't help but take a moment to drink in the sight of him; the twistedly gorgeous demi-god you call lover and protector. At your staring, Jago chuckles. "You may remain robed if you wish," he says. "But among Astartes, it is tradition to spar as... unencumbered as possible."

"Oh really?" you ask, clearly unconvinced.

Jago laughs again. "Eyes up, little bird," he orders. "Raise your blade. We begin now."

Unable to keep the grin off your face, you does as he commands.

"You remember what I've taught you?" he asks.

You give your sword a cursory twirl. "Of course I do." As if to emphasise the point, you hold it out in front of you in a defensive stance.

Jago gives you a satisfied smirk. "Guess we'll find out soon enough, won't we?" With that, the Night Lord lunges.

You slip to the side, parrying with your sword. The wooden blades crack against each other like bone, and the force of the impact sends painful vibrations rocketing up your arms. Grunting, you take several, darting steps back, but Jago refuses to give you any such breathing room. Several more time, your training blades clash. You know Jago is holding back; he has to, for if he didn't, his first strike would've likely snapped your arms in half. But even with his abilities actively reduced from demi-god levels, he's still faster and stronger than any baseline human could dream of being. Already, your breathing hard. Sweat pouring down your brow as your heart pounds relentlessly. Jago, on the other hand, has barely broken a sweat.

"Don't be shy, little bird," he says the next time the pair of you disengage. "You can't defend forever."

Between heavy breathes, you scowl at him. "Easy for you to say, Son of The Night Haunter, you."

Jago flashes that wry, crooked smile of his from the other side of the training mat. "No warrior is perfect," he says. "Even Astartes have certain aspects that can be exploited."

"Such as?"

"Just look at me, sweetheart. Two metres tall and half a tonne in weight, all of that being bloated muscle and reinforced bone." Jago holds his arms out wide. "What does that make me?"

"I don't know," you huff. "Strong?"

"Nope," says Jago

"Unbeatable?"

"Hah! I wish."

"Sexy?"

Jago laughs. "You flatter me, little bird. But no. Not the answer I am looking for."

"What then?"

The night lord sighs in mock exasperation. "It make me big," he says. "It makes me heavy. And no matter how fast or strong I am, it makes me very much at the mercy of physics and biomechanics. But you-" he points at you with his sword. "-my love, you are not so much. You are lighter. Your body, more flexible and maneuverable. Therefore, such natural laws are far more lenient on you than I. You understand?"

After taking a moment to think, you believe that you do. You tell Jago as much.

"I knew you would." Lowering his sword, Jago bares his teeth in a grin. "Now. Prove it to me."

Raising your sword, you approach him at a slink. Stepping on the balls of your feet, wooden blade out and pointed at his chest. Jago flurries his own weapon. Ripples of tension feather through the muscles of his chest and abdomen. He holds his sword low, clearly trusting himself to be fast enough to raise it should you choose to attack. But it is that very reflex that you intend to exploit.

With the technique of a fencer, you thrust at Jago's throat. Just as you'd guessed, he brings his sword up and around to block. But the moment you see his arm move, your strike turns into a feint. Ducking underneath his arm, you lock your blade around his shoulder and launch a savage kick into his knee. In the same moment, you wrench hard with your arms, turning your wooden sword into a lever over which you toss Jago to the ground. Of course, such a throw would never work in a true one-on-one fight with an Astartes. But against another baseline? Absolutely, it would. And, since he is currently moonlighting as such, Jago lets you take him down. The mat shakes as his body hits the ground. Before he can move to get up, you leap on top of him. Straddling his waist and bracing the edge of your mock sword against his throat. Your arms tremble from exertion, lungs burning as you breath hard and fast through your mouth. But as exhausted as you are there's a smile on your face. When Jago locks eyes with you, it only grows broader.

"That's my girl," he says, his adam's apple bobbing against your blade as he speaks.

In spite of yourself, his praise makes you giggle. "Does that mean I win?" you ask.

"Almost," Jago says. "But you've forgotten one very important thing."

You raise an eyebrow. "That being?"

Between your legs, you feel the rise and fall of his belly as he breathes in and out. You also feel him bending his knees and planting his feet on the floor. "When your opponent is so much larger than you..." Jago trails off. Then, quick as a snake, he grabs your sword with one hand and seizes your arm in the other. Bridging his hips, he throws you off him, sending you sprawling onto the mat. You yelp in surprise as Jago reverses your mount and straddles your hips. His weight is immense; your pelvis feels like it's being crushed beneath an anvil, while your legs and hips are completely and utterly pinned. Jago leans over you, grabbing your sword hand by the wrist while bracing his own sword hand on the floor right beside your ear. Lips peeling back into a predatory smile, he finishes his earlier warning. "...You must never take them to the ground."

Any outward observer would expect you be terrified, but in truth, you only feel flustered. Even after all this time, being this close to him- face millimetres from yours, naked, muscular body pressing against your own- still has your stomach winding itself into knots. And from the bulging hardness you can feel pressing against your lower belly, Jago is feeling the same way.

"This had nothing to do with training me, did it?" you whisper.

"Of course it did," Jago replies. "Your safety is the single most important thing to me. You know that."

"Fine. But it wasn't the only reason you brought me here, was it?"

For the briefiest of moments, Jago's smile turns sheepish. "Alright. You may have me there." Leaning closer still, he touches his forehead to yours. "You know how much I love a woman who can kick my ass."

You reply by kissing him. Tilting your head back so as to give you access to his lips, then locking them within yours with rough and enboldened hunger. Jago immediately returns it in kind. He drops his sword and releases your wrist, scooping one hand up underneath your waist while gripping you jaw with the other. Like pieces of a puzzle, your bodies fall into place around each other. Your legs wrapping tight around Jago's waist as he pulls you closer still. The heat between your legs presses the hardness between his, and even through the fabric of your clothes, the friction is enough to make you whine. The sound elicits a growl from Jago. You feel the hand at your jaw release, then slide down your front until it reaches the waistband of your trousers. He drags them off you, followed by your underwear. You gasp when the cold air kisses your exposed sex. But quickly, the sound devolves into a moan as Jago presses his fingers into your clit. Electricity bolts through your body. The heat in your core swells into an aching throb. You feel yourself growing wetter, hotter, more desperate and breathless. You claw your fingernails into Jago's back and let out another pleading moan.

"Jago..."

"I know, sweetheart," he rumbles. "But I've gotta slick you up first; don't want to hurt you."

You reply by bringing your hands up to his shoulder blades and digging your fingers into the neural ports embedded in the muscles there.

An involuntary shudder rips through Jago's entire body. His limbs buckle, sending him sprawling flat against your front. The sound that falls from his lips can only be described as a whimper.

"Oh, I see," he growls once he recovers. "And here I was thinking you liked me best when I was nice."

"Most of the time," you answer. "But not today."

Jago bares his teeth in a smile that's both affectionate and utterly lusting. "As you wish, little bird. But don't say I didn't warn you."

You open your mouth to reply, but before the words can reach your voice, Jago locks his hand around your throat. He unclasps his breeches, finally freeing his hard, aching cock. He lines his hips with up with yours, and with a single, savage thrust, drives himself all the way inside of you.

A cry bursts from your lips. You feel yourself stretching to accommodate his length, but even then, the fit is impossibly tight. Jago moans into your ear. The hand around your throat tightens. Without skipping a beat, he starts moving. Thrusting his hips hard, filling you up, pinning your clit against his public bone and rubbing it to the point of pain. Sparks and black spots burst within your vision. Your eyes roll into the back of your skull. Every one of your exhales is a whimper or a moan. Ecstasy doesn't come close to describing this feeling. This raw and primal pleasure that's got your every nerve in a chokehold. Meanwhile, Jago growls and snarls like a beast in rut. His breathing is loud and laboured, his every muscle bulging against his sweat-slick skin. The hand he hasn't got around your neck is pressed hard into your lower belly, forcing his cock deeper and deeper still.

The coil in your belly reaches critical mass. You can feel your orgasm coming, just on the horizon, but not quite there yet. There's no way in hell you could string together a sentence, so instead, you say his name. Once again finding Jago's shoulderblades with your fingers and clawing them into his neural ports.

"Jago... Jago..."

Jago's body shudders again, and a long, almost pained whine interrupts his snarling growls. On his next thrust, he rears up onto his knees, scooping up your leg with one hand and throwing it over his shoulder. The sparks in your eyes become stars. The coil in your belly becomes agonisingly tight. Your spine arches until it's not longer touching the ground and you let out another, desperate cry.

It's then that Jago decides to say something. The words are whispered in your ear, barely comprehensible amidst his growls and moans. But they're there. And they are what finally send you over the edge.

"That's my girl."

Orgasm grips you like a lightning strike. You throw your head back as a scream of ecstasy erupts from your throat. Every muscle in your body clenches and your walls squeeze Jago so tight it makes his voice crack. His rhythm suddenly falters. He releases your throat to claw his hand into the floor. With a throat-tearing roar, Jago finally hits his release, burying his face into your shoulder and pumping you full of his hot, thick seed. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you entangle your fingers in his hair, holding him close as you both ride out your orgasms.

When yours finally fades, you collapse against the floor. You still have the energy to gasp at the feel of Jago pulling out, but aside from that, you're completely and utterly spent. Means when Jago rolls you onto your side and drags you into his body, you simply let him. Both of his hearts are beating hard; you can feel their twin pulses pounding against your ear. He doesn't simply hold you, either, but rather he's actively pulling you close. Pressing you hard against his chest and wrapping his arms around you tight as if he were trying to shelter you or keep you from being dragged away. His grip is crushing. His skin and hair both slick with sweat. Gently, you reach a hand up to his face and brush your fingers against his cheek. "Careful," you says softly. "Squeeze me any tighter and you might just break something."

You hear his breath hitch. Slowly, the pressure around your waist and shoulders diminishes. "Sorry," Jago mutters. The extra gravel in his voice confirms what you'd suspected from his pulse, that he's still coming down from his high.

Tilting your head up a little, you press your lips to his collarbone, then nuzzle your face into his chest. "It's okay. I forgive you. This time, at least."

Jago smirks, but says nothing. After a handful of quiet moments, you hear his heart rates finally begin to settle. His breathing deepens, then levels out and the residual tension in his body releases.

You choose that moment to caress his scarred cheek again. "I love you," you whisper.

His chest vibrates against your ear as he chuckles softly. "By the Warp. I don't think I'll ever get used to hearing that."

"Do you doubt me?" you ask playfully.

"What? No! Of course not."

"You do not feel the same, then?"

That actually makes him growl. "Of course I do." The grip around your waist and shoulders tightens. "You know that."

You reassure him with another kiss to his collar bone. "So, why, then?"

"Why?" Another rumbling laugh. "Sweetheart. Look at me. Recall who I am and what I've done."

Retracting your hand, you start tracing one of the dozens of scars running down his chest with your finger. "I see Jago Sevetarion," you say. "The man who cares for me and protects me." You let your head fall against him, eyes slipping shut. "I see the man I love."

Your earnestness seems to take him by surprise, for he does not reply nor react right away. He doesn't seem to know how to. All he can think to do is pull you closer still and bury his face into the crook of your neck.

Sorry if I've missed you. If I have or you wanna be added, please let me know :)

Taglist: @yanagikou @nereidof40k @yurihasurunbara @beckyninja @moodymisty @wolf-feathers12 @justfreakynothingelse @egrets-not-regrets

[doumadono]

Babyyyyy! Congratulations 💙🧡💙🧡 I am so happy to see you thrive 💗

Can I get some mint and raspberry ice-creams served in a cone, with some maple syrup on top? 😚 (pro hero au with pro hero Dabi)

Warnings: smut w/o plot, fem!reader, pussy fingering/eating, p in v, dom!Dabi

A/N: thank you very much for your support, sweetheart! I hope you enjoy these headcanons ♥

MY HERO ACADEMIA ⊹ Pro hero Dabi - headcanons ⊹ PRO HERO DABI & INTERN!BAKUGO ⊹ Sidekick!Reader - pro hero Dabi headcanons (NSFW)

Dabi, the renowned pro hero, returns home after a day of saving lives and battling villains. His muscles are tense, his spirit is high, and his desire is burning like the blue flames that dance at his fingertips as he get inside his spacious apartment. His eyes are dark and tired at first, but there's a spark that ignites as soon as he looks at you, his lips curling upwards in a wry grin.

You've been waiting for him for hours, eager to provide some much-needed relief. You missed your boyfriend oh so much.

Dabi's strong hands grip your waist, pulling you close. He leans in, capturing your lips in a searing kiss.

You can taste the smoky remnants of his quirk on his tongue as it dances with yours. Your hands reaching up to grip his broad shoulders. You break the kiss, panting. "Touya," you breathe, your cheeks flushed.

"Yes, darling?" Dabi's fingers trace the hem of your shirt. He smirks, knowing how much you love it when he takes control. He tugs the fabric up and over your head, exposing your lacy bra. Dabi's gaze lingers on your body, and you feel a thrill run through you.

You rub your thighs together to ease the tension and wetness building within your pussy. "I-I want you," you stammer, your cheeks flushing with desire as you ran the tip of your tongue over your upper lips to moisture it.

He palms your breasts, teasing your nipples through the lace. "Oh, I know you do," he says, his voice dripping with confidence.

You gasp again, arching into his touch. "Touya…"

Dabi's mouth finds your neck once more, leaving a trail of hot kisses that make you tremble. He continues his exploration, slowly unhooking your bra and letting it fall to the floor. Touya's fingers pinch and roll your nipples, eliciting a moan from your lips. His other hand travels down your body, reaching the waistband of your pants. He deftly unbuttons them and pulls them off, leaving you in nothing but your lace panties. Dabi's eyes darken as he takes in the sight of you. He hooks his fingers into your panties, leans forward and kisses you roughly, pushing his tongue in your mouth as he tugs the panties down, letting them pool at your feet.

You step out of them, feeling vulnerable.

Dabi's hands explore your body, leaving a trail of fire wherever they touch. One of them slips between your thighs and he growls lowly. "Fuck, doll, you're dripping," he claims, bringing his hand up to his lips, licking his index and middle fingers off your juices. He lifts you up effortlessly, like you weighted nothing, your legs wrapping around his waist as he carries you to the bedroom. He lays her down on the bed, his eyes raking over your body hungrily. He removes his own clothes, revealing his muscular form.

Touya positions himself between your legs, his fingers tracing the wetness between your thighs. He teases your entrance, making you squirm with anticipation. He takes his time, enjoying the power he holds over you in this moment, kissing all over your tummy and gradually coming down. Finally, Touya's mouth descends upon your aching core. His tongue flicks and teases your clit, sending waves of pleasure crashing through you. He doesn't shy away from sucking your lips into his mouth.

You cry out, gripping his snow-white, spiky hair as he brings you closer and closer to the edge. "O-Oh! Touya!"

Just as you're about to reach your peak, Dabi pulls away, leaving you gasping for more. He smirks, knowing the torture is part of the fun. He slowly pushes one finger inside, then another, stretching you in preparation for what's to come while his tongue flicks your clitoris.

You moan and arch your back, the sensation of his fingers combined with the anticipation driving you wild. "Oh, God!" You whine, rolling your head back to the pillow. "Fuck me already, tiger, I can't wait any longer," you beg, your eyes glistening with tears. "I don't want to come yet, please!"

He likes to take his time to play with you. He loves seeing you whining so pathetically, practically begging for his cock to be stuffed in your little cunt. When Dabi deems you ready, he positions himself above you, his turquoise eyes locked on yours. He smirks, his hand reaching down to grip his cock. He guides it to your entrance, rubbing it against your wet pussy. "Fuck, you're so wet," he groans, his hips thrusting forward. With one powerful thrust, he enters you, filling you completely.

You cry out, the feeling of him inside you overwhelming.

Dabi begins to move, his strokes deep and steady. Each thrust sends shockwaves of pleasure through your body, and you cling to him, desperate for more.

"More, more more…" you plead desperately.

Dabi's hand finds your clit, rubbing small circles as he continues to pound into you. "You like that, don't you?" he growls, his hips thrusting harder.

The combination of sensations is too much, and you find yourself teetering on the edge of release. "Yes, yes, yes," you chant, your body moving in sync with his.

"Come for me then," Dabi growls, his voice low and commanding. A frown crosses his forhead as his cock throbs painfully, so ready to spill his seed deep within you. Soon, his own release is triggered by the feel of you tightening around him rhythmically.

With a final thrust of his, you shatter, crying out his name as wave after wave of ecstasy crashes over you; your pussy clenches around his cock making it impossible for him to pull out.

Finally, Touya collapses onto the bed, his body spent.

You curl up against him, your body still trembling. "Welcome back home, handsome," you whisper, your eyes fluttering closed.

He smiles, his arm wrapping around you, slowly rubbing the curve of your waist. "Thanks for such a warm welcome."

[unwantedshivering]

ACKNOWLEDGEMENT

HEADCANONS for KEVIN KATCHADOURIAN as you try and figure out what he truly feels about you.

MASTERLIST

WARNINGS: mentions of reader death, emotional manipulation, overall toxicity

FOR: Kevin Khatchadourian

NOTES: @slasherscream totally inspired this, their characterization of kevin made me want to write for him !! :) this is entirely too long to be considered hcs btw

HOW IT STARTS

Truly, you believed he hated you. Why else would he stare as though he was trying to telekinetically explode your head? It’s a wonder how you even started hanging around him. It wasn’t necessarily out of your own volition, really, as you were just the Khatchadourians’ neighbor tutoring and hanging out with Celia in exchange for your sibling receiving archery lessons.

You grew up practically adjacent to Eva’s household, so it was just a small, kind gesture you’d do when you visited from college. You remembered that weary, worn down visage of hers from your childhood and let it pull at your heartstrings. You were sensitive, and perhaps that’s what drew him in.

You were watching a kid’s movie with Celia, and unbeknownst to you: Kevin was eyeing you.

He wasn’t usually home, off in his room when he wasn’t attending his own classes. Quiet. Off-putting as he would taper down the creaking steps, barely acknowledging your presence before leaving. Usually he’d grab an apple, glance over you as if you were nothing but air.

It was intriguing to you. Kevin had always been intriguing to you. He was unnaturally, uncannily pretty. Like a bust set on display within his own modern-century home, you couldn’t touch or manage to decipher him. It was embarrassing to say he had been the face of several boyfriends in your silly teenage dreams.

It was pure happenstance as he came down just in time to watch as you hiccuped during the movie, tears streaming down your face. Celia was long-gone off in dreamland on the couch.

It wasn’t enthrallment that Kevin felt. It wasn’t even want. It was a sick, morbid curiosity. Celia, despite her humanity, wasn’t entertaining to Kevin anymore. Not as she was when she was eight and entirely naïve, cut bare in her love for her big brother.

You gave him something new. He halted in his steps. For the first time in simply years, you heard Kevin speak to you.

“Stay a little bit longer.”

Through your own bewilderment, you agreed. Kevin had no reason to continue his sweet, loving son act. Not really. Still, he smiled something that could only be described as honey. It was drenched in a sickening sweetness, something with a bite. A bit of blood in his teeth.

He took you archery shooting. It was way past the acceptable time for you to be in the Khatchadourian household, and yet you stayed. Fly wrapped in silk. Bug to be eaten, saved for later.

It felt magical to be the center of Kevin Khatchadourian’s attention. In school he was a little misunderstood and disconcerting, but nothing truly horrific happened. It was that same quietness he displayed that made him so elusive, so lovely to you.

He displayed amazing skill when it came to archery, a terrifying mastery. You only chuckled nervously when it whizzed past you, making your hair stand on end and fingers clench.

“I’m sorry,” he said, yet it was low, accompanied by eyes that seemed anything but apologetic. “You should really stand on the side, I must’ve overshot it.”

HOW HE IS IN THE BEGINNING

As you continued staying longer, mutual exchange forgotten, he grew more and more expressionless. The most he would usher you was a glance under firm eyebrows, a wry little twitch of lips when you did something particularly amusing. You felt like a piece of brain tissue on a petri dish.

Kevin was actually scarily kind to your sibling and family though. It was like a flip-switch: he went from helping your mother with carrying dinner to silently staring at you, trying to pick apart your body, all smiles and good-boy mirth gone from his eyes. Most of the time, he fiddled with his technology as you did your own thing. Reading? He’d be clicking away, his incessant typing as your white noise. Crochet? Doing it outside as he practiced archery. Talking? He’d stare to let you know he’s listening.

Unfortunately, this still left you neglected. Initiating physicality was on his own terms, and you’d get a quick look before being brushed off if he wasn’t into it. Speaking about your troubles with him is met with silence. At the beginning, it was even met with slight condescension and mockery. One step forward? It didn’t matter, Kevin himself was never going to be able to fulfill all of your needs.

It wasn’t as if you didn’t have other friends. Most of them didn’t know Kevin. If they did, they didn’t speak of him to you; speaking of him made you jittery, a little doe-eyed, but you always spoke of him fondly. They could never understand why.

Kevin knew all your friends. You were at a house party, introducing them with a blinding grin on your face. He disliked them. If there was one thing he held other than apathy, other than wanting to feel more than he’s capable of, it was the need to harbor your attention. You were his only source of anything. You were clearly fond of him, no matter how strange or unnerving he showed to be. You talked seamlessly and mindlessly about your interests. He knew sunsets were pretty, but because he saw them through you. He knew what cafés were the best, what to get his mother for a gift when Frank pressured him to.

In the same breath, Kevin resented and found himself thinking often on that part of you. There wasn’t a way he could name it, but the feeling was dull. It stung a bit, hearing you speak about anything outside of his reach. He liked the sting somedays: it was proof he felt. Other than his heart thrumming in his ears, he felt something other than disdain and unadulterated anger.

He hated feeling jealousy, though.

It was quiet like the rest of him. Your friend, Matt, kept pushing. It was becoming sickeningly obvious that he thought of you more than a friend, and yet whether it be your own denseness or the fact that you’d known Matt since forever, you didn’t stop him. Not the meaningless touches on your arm, not the compliments on things only Kevin thought he’d noticed about you. Sick. Sick. It was that old, juvenile anger he felt spike again.

There was a barely there acknowledgement of the fact that you were attractive. He found you attractive even faintly. Then, there was the notion of your attractiveness shoved in his face. Others found you attractive.

His family already assumed you were dating. You hung around too often for them to not believe so. Your friends? They didn’t know. Before this, Kevin didn’t necessarily care whether or not you were called his significant other or the person he kept around. It was only then where he realized the perks of you being his: no Matt.

It was impulsive. He kissed you. It was under the porch light after Matt hugged you goodbye, and as he started to pull out of the driveway Kevin ducked in for the kill. It was impulsive, a bit too strong, and left you lightheaded like you drank more than you should’ve. Being with Kevin was like being an alcoholic.

There was an emptiness in his eyes as he pulled away. He didn’t even hold your cheek, he simply ducked forward. You felt… odd. Confused and a bit embarrassed that you let him do that simply for his own whim. What you didn’t see were the indents of Kevin’s fingers in the cup he was holding onto the entire time, the way he fiddled with the lighter in his pocket, the way his jaw clenched.

WHY STAY

There’s a certain value Kevin placed on you. You don’t know if it’s that of a toy, lover, or a third scarier option. There’s a big chance you’d never know either.

What you do know is that he’d give you his jacket when it’s cold, and surprisingly he’d take off yours for you when you enter his house. It’s done so casually that you forget it’s typically uncharacteristic of him.

He played nice with Celia when you were around. He played nice with your family, to the point where you might even misunderstand and believe he wanted them to think highly of him.

Kevin could be awfully kind. It’s never a kindness for the sake of it, but it only ever distinctly shows itself around you. If you were ever sick or vice versa, you’re spending all your time around him for the day.

If he had the fever, he’d push his forehead against yours while you’re both lying down, lazily breathing with his eyes closed. If you were the one ill, Kevin sits on the bed instead, placing one hand on your hand or your forehead. It’s a cool, light feeling. His hand is large enough for it to fully encompass your face if he so wished, or at least your neck, and yet he chose to be gentle.

He doesn’t like the idea of you being special to him though; the fact that you’re exempt from even some of his antagonizing ministrations makes it frustrating. You shouldn’t be. You were something he hung around and dated technically, so the idea of you actually being the definition of a significant other made him heavy in the chest.

If you show that you like the idea of being special to him, at least in the beginning, it’s easier for him to pull away. Whether physically or emotionally, he can shut off completely from you. Deciding to stay is what does it for him. How can you stay? Even with all the silence and work it takes for him to do anything?

His kisses grow less rushed. They’re even somewhat experimental later on. Kevin doesn’t really know if he likes it, but he knows you do. A nip at your lip, eyes closed, fluctuating pressure. He’s a fast learner. He’d pull away prematurely, waiting to see how you’d react. Usually he’d just walk away afterwards like nothing happened, but if he’s feeling the reactive impulse to he’ll duck right back in.

Kisses with Kevin leave you panting. Sometimes you believe he truly is attempting to steal your breath, and he might just be. He has more often than not almost let the arrow hit you when you watch him practice archery. It never does, but it’s always close. There’s a furrow in his brow afterward, like he’s examining how he himself feels on you almost dying by his own hands.

He has also more often than not found that it leaves him annoyed.

[ladybyakuya]

| RIGHT SIDE OF MY NECK + bofurin : umemiya hajime, suo hayato, ren kaji,mitsuki kiryu.

+cw. — f!reader, ex!boyfriend headcanons + scenarios, break up blues and yearning, smut, s&d + s&m dynamics, or@ls, ,slight [ex]hibitionism, /m.dni/

+wc. —2k+

+syn.— maybe the flames never really died; to welcome new beginnings and perhaps, it is better to get burnt in those familiar flames rather than foreign ones. 

+notes. — first time writing for everyone except ume yay! | redirect to blog navigation. 

⁠✧ umemiya hajime !

Umemiya, your ex-boyfriend is sitting beside you with a beer cup in his hand which is almost emptied. You sip and stare at the crowd trying to find someone you know but a familiar voice makes you stop breathing. It is not the voice that sucks your mind  into that corner of the sofa where you were seated but the set of words that ringed in your ear.  “Fuck, I’m so attracted to you right now.” You can feel it. He is staring at you, perhaps swirling his beer cup lazily before emptying it, hands jittery, eyes lidded with longing, lust. . .love perhaps yet you have not been able to turn your head in his direction and you know, the moment you look at him Umemiya will find a way back to you. Ah!How many times has it been? Fifth? Tenth? You might have lost the count but Umemiya hasn’t. He remembers each and every instance that had made you walk away from him. It’s his fault, really! You are not to blame.Umemiya’s heart leaps with joy seeing you still, unable to take in another breath in. He lets out a chuckle.

“No.” You nod as you speak, “We’re not doing this again.”  You say with so much strength in your voice and Umemiya can not laugh it off. He gulps, keeping the beer cup on the table, keeping his hands on his knees, fingers enclassing with each other as you wait for some sort of response. Then, he looks at you eyes so heavy with longing and loneliness that reaches your melting point. 

“Right. We can’t.” He takes the last sip of his beer. “Not here.” Another wry chuckle follows that makes you get up and walk away from him but you do not join the crowd but rather go into one of the secluded rooms, gracing a pained gaze at him before stepping into the room and leaving the door open behind you. Umemiya follows right after locking the door behind him and waits. It’s frustrating how well he knows you, and that you are playing games, falling into his trap deeper and deeper every time. But unlike other times, he does not initiate things with you; rather it is you who kneels in front of him as he slowly caresses your cheeks, and touches your lips roughly but as you try to suckle on his fingers he deprives you of his touch that you have been longing at lonely nights like this but move down along your chest pulling up your top to tuck it on the upper lining of your breasts that are covered with a red lacy bra and he can bet anything that you are wearing a matching set. His fingers roam along the lining of your bra but he does not touch you where you want. while his other hand works on his belt to take his cock out. 

“Suck,” he commands and you obey like a good little pet that you are, always have been.

⁠✧ suo hayato !

        “No! I’m not doing this to myself again.” You tartly speak jerking your head away from Suo’s direction as you find his gaze lingering on you more than it should. You say that being unaware of your position. It’s funny. How do you have no clue what is going on around you? Suo has you currently seated on his lap in a different room secluded from the loudness. The door of the room is parted slightly since you insisted him so that you can see if anyone’s coming or not but you are too drunk to notice. Suo lets out a soft chuckle. It’s funny really. This is the third time you have tried to empty the soju can yet again. Every time Suo fills it with a little bit of water so that you sober up little by little. He would take you home, tuck you in bed, guard you in your vulnerable state treat you as if you were as soft as morning dew but why did it have to be like this instead? You and him are apart, living separately. At the same time, it pains him to see how you would surrender to the point of ruin just to get Suo’s attention, just to get him back. The cushioned chair is large enough to have Suo spread his legs comfortably as you occupy his lap. He tilts his head, chin resting on his hand as he watches you fondly. If only . . . 

His gaze trails down a little bit ceasing at the advent of your cleavage. He looks away rather than fixing it because that might make you hostile. You are not easy to handle when you are drunk but he can take care of so easily. It’s a shame that you won’t let him. As Suo was drawing in your thoughts gazing at you, eyelids falling frequently trying his best to keep up with you but the next time his eyelids gave up, he felt a pair of lips on his while a hand on his chest. Ah! Finally. It does not take much for Suo to reciprocate your advances and he proceeds like pouring oil in a blazing fire. As you keep burying your lips into him, he shifts in his position little by little, and suddenly he has you seated on that soft, lips apart from yours yet a string of saliva connecting both of your mouths. He loves the look on your face. You’re angry not at him but at yourself for being unable to contain yourself inside the boundaries. You let your desires spill and you can never blame your ex-boyfriend but he is the master of how you are acting right now.

Suo fixes your dress and inclines to kiss you again but you pull away. This is so nostalgic. He remembers how this is his easiest tactic to get you sobered up and it seems that you have sobered up quite a bit. He still inclines towards you whispering into your ears, “Why act so coy when we both know you’ll be back for more?”

⁠✧ ren kaji !

Kaji’s headphones are peacefully resting on his shoulders. He showed up early in the party in the name of helping you but truly it was just to be around you, follow you as you work in the kitchen or just to see you working in the house. He had missed it so much, the sound that comes when you are around which is enough that he did not have to put his headphones up. The clanking of bracelets with the utensils, the low hum you do when you get too engrossed in work, the sound of your footsteps, the sound of your breathing— he had missed everything so intently that it makes him so dull these days. Even Hiragi-san complimented how you were the goodness of Kaji’s life.

You take a bowl of chips and walk towards the main table but your feet slip making you lose balance Kaji catches you preventing any serious injury from happening to you. The chips are scattered all over the floor while you are tilted as Kaji keeps you in place by grabbing onto your hand. He feels you slipping from his grip so pulls you towards himself and then as you can take a firm stand on the ground you feel his hand still lingering on your waist.

“Kaji, I’m okay. You can let go of me now.” You are assured but all you hear is a grunt followed by tightening his grip on you. You let out an exasperated sign not even letting your arms encapsulate him trying to hold back the urge, but he doesn’t mind. You can inhale his familiar candy-like smell. Before you end up making a mistake you repeat, this time firmly enough to get a response. “Let me go.”

Kaji’s hand is now on your upper arms, eyes fixated on you as he softly states, “You know I can’t seem to think straight around you.” 

“Oh my god! Stop.” You try to swat away his hands but how could you forget how strong he is? The fact that he is not wearing his headphones makes it harder for you to let go. You look away to avoid his melting gaze but a moment later you fill his lips on the nook of your neck and then his teeth. You can not seem to do anything but take it all in because the moment his lips touched your skin it felt like a rotten knot being unfurled. Your hand skims through his hair that makes Kaji push you up against the wall, lips going down until he has one of your tits out of your loose t-shirts. Ah! fuck. It’s so over for you. Kaji looks at you as his tongue sticks out at first, licking your nipple and then his lips wrapping around the protruded nipple making you suck in a hard breath. The impact of longing and not touching each other for so long that it feels limitless making you skid against the wall and both of you are now on the ground: Kaji sucking your tits as your free hand goes in between your legs.

✧ mitsuki kiryu ! 

Mitsuki has been stealing glances in your way for a while now. He is sitting far from you but you can feel his gaze as if he is stripping you naked from close quarters. There are others and he is more or less chatting with them unlike other times when he would be busy gaming, all the time not that you minded, and it was never the reason for your break up with him. His friends left to get a refill but he did not. He decided to stay sober. Kiryu still has not changed his position from in front of you to your side even though he can but he keeps looking at you with all the want in his eyes that it becomes so hard for you not to notice. Besides, people are staring at him, then at you but you can not seem to leave your seat. You easily could but something is holding you back and you refuse to accept it is stemming from Kiryu, your ex-boyfriend.

Your feet finally listen to you as you walk past Kiryu. His lush green eyes never leave you once. “Stop looking at me.”  

“I can’t,” Kiryu confesses and it makes your world come to a halt. You shift your gaze from the ground upon him as he adds further, “And I don’t think you want me to either.” His palm is under his chin while his elbow rests on the cushion-like stretch of the sofa. He is so cocky. You try to leave but he pulls you towards him making you fall right on his lap. The over-curious crowd, although small still makes you drown in embarrassment as they “haww!” in unison. It almost makes you cry. You feel like you won’t be able to leave his lap for the rest of the night or maybe him for the rest of his life. You would not have minded this if it happened just two months ago because it was he who posed the idea of a break-up. It was all him. You never intended to let this happen but you were just getting a good start about moving on. It was so nice, comforting, and uplifting and then Kiryu comes crashing down like a calamity on you. It really makes you cry.

“I hate you.” You say while stifling a cry, looking at him, still seated on his lap. Unable to contain the pang in you anymore you bury your face in the nook of his shoulders while your hand immediately grabs onto his shirt. He does not try to shush you. He lets you cry as he feels the wet sorrow of your soaking in his shirt. Right now you don't care what the world thinks or what the world sees so he tilts his head a little, placing a peck on your cheek. It makes you hold on to him harder, and take in a long breath. 

“you will get a headache if you cry too much. so, make sure you hydrate after crying. And by hydrate, I mean water, not beer.” While Kiryu whispers sweet nothings into your ear his hand makes its way under your skirt, over your panties. He lets one of his fingers run over the damp part of your cloth. “Ah! You’re wet here too babe.” He whispers into your ear.  You jerk awake from him, eyes red and swollen, face tear-stained. He takes his hand out, licking his finger as you look at him. “So, my place or yours? What do you say?”  Ah! there is no going back is there?

“my place.” Your response makes Kiryu’s eyebrows pinch. It would be his first time going to your place, not that he would mind but he asked that out of habit since he had been trying to get laid to forget you, and some part of him is relieved that you chose your place. You are putting yourself first. Ah! He sees it now. You’ve already moved on from him.

[wrylu]

cod headcanon that ghost only uses packets of ketchup, none of that bottled shite

[aventurineswife]

Could you write headcanons for Ratio and Aventurine x Lisa Minci reader

In the Dance of Minds and Souls

Tags: Aventurine x Reader, Ratio x Reader, Lisa Minci (from Genshin Impact) based Reader, Headcanons, Fluff, Humor, Flirting, Emotional Support, Mutual Respect, Lighthearted Teasing.

Warnings: Mild flirtation and teasing, Intellectual debates, Exploration (not really) of complex emotions and past trauma.

Aventurine is immediately drawn to your vast knowledge and the way you balance your laid-back demeanor with your intellectual prowess. He often challenges you with riddles or debates, hoping to push your boundaries, but you, unfazed, smile slyly and match him step-for-step. For you, it’s not about winning—it’s the thrill of sparring with someone equally clever.

Aventurine’s love for high stakes and your comfort with navigating dangerous knowledge creates a thrilling dynamic. In moments of quiet, you humorously chide him for gambling with so many lives, while he argues that “life itself is the greatest gamble.” Together, you find ways to balance your respective approaches to danger—Aventurine reveling in the thrill of the unknown, and you calmly strategizing your way through it.

Aventurine’s charm prompts him to playfully flirt with you, his signature smile in full force. You indulge him with a wry smile, fully aware that beneath his bravado lies someone much more complex. You share moments of soft laughter and teasing, with you returning his attention through subtle gestures and cryptic comments that keep him on his toes.

Despite his outward confidence, Aventurine’s layered emotional state intrigues you. You often see through his façade, understanding that beneath his calculated exterior lies a deeply troubled individual. In private, you offer him moments of calm, occasionally sharing a warm cup of tea or your favorite vegetable soup, offering him a small piece of solace amidst his inner chaos. His unpredictability might unsettle you at times, but your affinity for uncovering truths—especially the fractured pieces of his past—keeps you intrigued.

Aventurine’s fear of losing resonates deeply with your understanding of human vulnerability. You don’t hesitate to remind him that it's okay to take a break from the gamble of life and let others in, despite his tendency to guard his emotions. Your interactions often consist of Aventurine’s calculated risk-taking combined with your quiet wisdom, forming an unexpected but supportive bond.

Ratio admires your intellect, often seeking you out for discussions about complex magical theories and philosophies. You engage in deep, enriching conversations where Ratio, despite his usual dismissiveness of those who don't meet his intellectual standards, shows genuine respect for your vast understanding. Your exchanges feel like an academic battle, but one founded on mutual admiration.

Both of you have faced academic struggles, pushing each other to new heights. Your more laid-back nature often serves as a counterbalance to Ratio’s intense drive to eradicate ignorance. You challenge him to view knowledge as a tool for spreading understanding, while he helps you confront your own past hesitations toward unrelenting scholarly ambition.

While Ratio can be abrasive and overly critical, you see through his confidence and arrogance, recognizing moments where he masks his insecurities. Your relationship thrives on intellectual connection and quiet understanding. You never overtly challenge him, but you show him a different side of knowledge—one that isn’t just about intellect but also about experience, empathy, and subtlety.

Your flirtatious nature occasionally catches Ratio off guard, leading to moments of slight discomfort on his part. While he respects your brilliance, he’s not accustomed to someone teasing him so playfully. You bait him with your comments, your eyes gleaming mischievously, knowing you can make him flustered without even trying. Ratio finds himself unusually tongue-tied but responds with wit, trying to maintain his composure.

You balance Ratio’s overwhelming dedication to knowledge with your carefree attitude toward it. Your partnership is a mix of rigorous intellectual debates and quiet moments of relaxation—perhaps over tea, where Ratio attempts to mask his overbearing pride with a passive-aggressive comment, and you respond with a half-smile and a sharp retort. Despite this, your relationship blooms as an intellectual powerhouse, working through differences with respect and understanding.

[ultimate-v3lvetfang]

started reading gwen’s comics and realized my “headcanon” version of Gwen is actually just comics Gwen

I realize now that Spiderverse Gwen is significantly more mature i would say?? In the comics she definitely exhibits the Spider-man Rage every Peter Parker is guilty of. like she seems to be either angry or sad all the time i feel so bad for her 😭

and if you didn’t know THIS scene from the movie

was taken from the comics nearly word for word.

also. she watches breaking bad?? i guess??? let’s go?? i guess???

and here’s a panel i just thought went so hard

her comics are very fun, she’s way more wry and almost a little more immature than atsv Gwen? I would actually love if her comic’s story was adapted at some point, but without Miles as a love interest, just being based on the events of the comics she can’t possibly still be 16 by the end of it (ignore how the comics are apparently?? trying to say she’s around Miles’ age?? i would think that’s so just an excuse to keep up with the Miles x Gwen ship from the movies.)

[hanasnx]

scott barringer headcanons.

MINORS DNI 18+ WARNINGS: enemies (?) to lovers | flirting | mentioned: fingering

! ── SCOTT BARRINGER's a hot, new commodity on the Horizon market. At least two girls you know have their sights set on him. It's clear how gorgeous he is, but you tried to keep your distance. The last thing you wanna focus on is some boy with his own set of problems. Fate finds a way. Every time you'd pull back, it'd draw you in, pairing you with him on chores more often than not, conversation was inevitable. You had a suspicions it's because neither of you are particularly chatty, and staff thinks you're less likely to cause an upset. "Ever done a campfire?" he taunts. The sick innuendo makes you scoff, tearing up grass while you sit on the ground with him. "You just say things to shock people, don't you?" you remark. You brush your hair back, and he keeps his gaze on you. "What else is there?" his reply is wry, and you roll your eyes at him.

! ── When you break the rules together, you serve the time together. Which means you and Scott work alongside each other scrubbing the bathroom floors. "What? Afraid to break a nail or something?" he tosses the phrase at you, regurgitated from the other misogynists he's heard it from. "Shut up, Barringer," you reply, just as unenthusiastic. The latex gloves catch on your manicure as you slide them on. "I'm not doing all this by myself. So make yourself useful." The vision of him on his knees is truly a sight to behold, the sudsy brush in his large hand. You have half a mind to kick him over by his chest, just to see what he'd do. It's not like you to exercise empathy, more like experimentation bred out of sick fascination. Besides, he deserves it. Him and his sour attitude. "Just get started without me." you tell him with a pinch of your shoulder, waving him off with a flick of your wrist. "Yeah," he scoffs. "you'd like that, wouldn't you?" He slaps the brush onto the tile, soap splatting out. You flinch, narrowly evading a stray splash on your shoes. "Watch it!" you admonish, "You almost got it on my Birks!" There’s an air of silence but you’re positive you can hear his eye roll. You have to fill it as you gingerly get down onto your knees next to him, dusting off your hands after. “I don’t get why we have to do chores. The amount of money my daddy’s paying for this place they should be able to afford a maid service.” "Yeah, I wouldn't expect daddy's little princess to understand."

! ── Even if he makes it hard, you and him do manage to get closer organically. It came in the ways he mocked you for your upbringing or your supposed stupidity. Scott has a lot to complain about, evidently. It blossoms into a sort of teenage fantasy. You let him get away with messing with you because you kinda like it. Little excuses to talk to you, bump you, tug on your hair. It's not long before he's messing with you more physically too. Less plausibly deniable.

! ── When things start heating up, you find yourself unable to stay away from him. The first time you kiss begins a torrid affair. Full of tugging him into dark corners to make out, sneaking off to the woods for “inappropriate touching” as the rules so clearly state to stave off of. He’s so frustrating all you wanna do is shut him up and make him useful. He’s a god at fingering you, makes quick work of it too, even if he is clumsy.

! ── There’s not much he won’t do to get your attention on him, he can't stand when it's anywhere else when he wants it. A bag of frozen veggies in his hand while you reach for it. "C'mon, is that how high you can jump?" "Scott!" you scold, balancing on the tips of your toes as you brace a hand on his chest. "Gimme it." Each time you crest, he moves it out of your way. You don't notice him sneak a hand around your waist, spinning you so your back is flush against him. His body curls around you, his cheek against your head as you weakly fight him off, using his arm to propel yourself up for the bag. "Will you forget the vegetables already?" He tosses them behind the two of you, but keeps you in place when you try to chase them, nuzzling his nose into your neck in search of skin to latch onto.

[my-castles-crumbling]

Padfoot and Prongs

Thanks to @peecyjacksoo for allowing me to write this headcanon

Tw: vague mentions of Walburga hurting Sirius, but not in detail

When the Sorting Hat yelled ‘Gryffindor’ for James Potter, all he experienced was excitement. His father was a Gryffindor, and his father before him, and his father before him. Really, he had wanted to be a Gryffindor since he knew what it was. The pure elation he felt was clear on his features when the Hat screamed.

But when the Hat did the same for Sirius Black, it was horror that appeared on his beautiful face. 

James had been watching him. Even as he and Peter boarded the train, he’d laid eyes on the short, skinny, pale, dark-haired boy who’d been practically dragged along by people who he could only assume were his parents. Quickly, he was shoved in the direction of people James knew to stay away from. People with last names like Lestrange and Goyle and Malfoy and Macnair. 

But the boy had looked sad. Like he didn’t want to be surrounded by those people. His head drooped as he walked, and James looked on with interest as the entire group disappeared on the train.

So when Professor McGonagall called for ‘Sirius Black,’ James wasn’t surprised to find out that the small boy was a Black. But he was surprised at the boy’s sorting. 

Because when Sirius stepped up to the stool, he looked resigned. Bored. Even a little nauseous. But when the Hat yelled ‘Gryffindor!’ and the boy’s face instantly turned from resigned to terrified, James was confused. 

He was, of course, still in the crowd of students waiting to be sorted at the time. So he had a decent view of the whole room’s reaction to Sirius’s fate. Half the Slytherin table looked livid. A few stood in protest, confused and furious. Murmurs sounded around the whole Hall, and James didn’t blame them. Because he had heard of the Black family. Heard about how much they loved all things Dark and believed wholeheartedly that pure blood was superior. So why was Sirius a Gryffindor?

But James had also been raised to love and accept everyone, and was on a bit of a high from his own sorting. So, after being accepted to the Gryffindor Table, he turned immediately to Sirius, who was next to him. “Nice to meet you, Sirius! I’m James. And this here’s Peter,” he said, gesturing to the boy sitting across from him.

Sirius smiled a bit and nodded at both of them, but didn’t say much through dinner. So eventually, James gave up on talking to him, instead making conversation with a taller boy named Remus, who had a cool scar that he didn’t ask about because his mum would yell at him for being rude.

- 

That night when James snuggled into his new four-poster, it took him a moment to hear the crying. Peter was a snorer and Remus had been kind enough to set a roaring fire, which meant that the sniffles slowly reached his ears, just as he was about to doze off.

But when he heard them, he couldn’t ignore them.

“Pete?” he asked softly, before realizing that the snores meant Peter was gone to the world. “Erm…Remus? Sirius?”

No answer. No more sniffles.

Unbothered, James set his feet on the cold floor and pulled back his curtains, listening closely. After a moment, another sniff came from the bed by the window. 

Sirius’s bed, James thought.

“S-Sirius?” he asked, a bit louder, walking closer. He watched the closedcurtains. They twitched before opening slowly. 

“Sorry, mate,” A distressed-looking Sirius muttered, peeking his head out. “Er- caught a cold. I-”

“It’s okay to be homesick,” James offered awkwardly, wanting to help, knowing that Sirius was not, in fact, sick with a cold. ‘Make friends by being a friend,’ his Mum had told him. That’s what he was doing.

But Sirius just scoffed. “Nah, bloody glad to be rid of them,” he shrugged moodily. 

“Then….” James hesitated, shifting from foot to foot. But his curiosity and need to comfort won out. “Why’re you upset?”

Sirius gave a wry smile. “Because right about now, dear Mum and Dad are finding out I’m not in Slytherin. And I know they’ll be…less than pleased.”

As he said it, he seemed to instinctively grab at the back of his hand, where several thin scars lay, twisted into words that James couldn’t read upside-down. Instantly, he put several pieces of information together- the way Sirius stood on the platform. The way he reacted to the sorting. The scars on his hand.

And James knew that many Pureblood families were strict. He’d been told about the ways old families did things, their horrible beliefs. But to see the proof of it there, in terrifyingly clear lines on the back of his new friend’s hand? It made it all so much more realistic. 

“Well, that’s them,” James said firmly, reaching to Sirius’s shoulder and squeezing. “We’re glad you’re here. And if your parents are mad, you can share mine. They’re kind of…overly affectionate sometimes, anyways.”

Sirius gave him a smile, eyes wide and teary.

-

The next morning was known as Mail Day. First years everywhere got letters from their families, congratulating them on their new houses. Personally, James had hardly slept, thinking about the reaction from his parents. His father’s pride. But also…of Sirius. What kind of letter would he get?

Sirius seemed to be of a similar mind, as he dragged his feet on the way to breakfast, looking like he was heading to his execution.

When the owls swarmed down, James quickly opened his letter, beaming with pride as he read his parents’ words of being ‘so proud of you, Jamie!’ He allowed the feeling to wash over him and warm him, pulling the letter close to his chest, missing his mother’s hugs a bit.

He then looked around to see both Peter and Remus with smiles on their faces, Peter opening an accompanying package of sweets that he was passing out around the table.

But it was Sirius who James’s eyes lingered on. Sirius, who was holding an angry red envelope.

A Howler. 

The red reminded James of the marks he’d seen on his new friend’s hand the previous evening and he reacted without thinking. Quickly, even as Sirius popped open the envelope, James vaulted himself on the table and screamed.

He knew he looked ridiculous. He knew he was making a very loud first impression. He knew he would probably get detention every night for the week. But he couldn’t just let Sirius sit there and be humiliated. So he screamed.

As he took breaths, words from the Howler snuck through. ‘Traitor,’ ‘scum,’ ‘disappointment,’ ‘horrible,’ and ‘disgusting’ were the ones James caught. But as he yelled and yelled, his throat going raw, he focused on Sirius. Sirius, whose mouth was open in surprise, but the corners of which were pulled up in amusement.

And when the letter finished and shredded itself in Sirius’s lap, James stopped. Calmly got down from the table and cleared his throat, face bright red. Followed the waiting Professor McGonagall out of the Hall to receive his own punishment.

But he never did regret what he did. Partially because Sirius didn’t deserve that embarrassment. But mostly because that was how he and Sirius became best friends.

[zepskies]

Heyo! So not sure how youd even write this from a story perspective— maybe headcanons r easier idk— but! What would Current SB/Ben say to his younger self (your choice on age) about his future? Whether it be from an introspective place, him talking fondly about his future family, etc — all you boo👍 Hope youre doing well!

Hey there! Thanks, I'm doing well and hope you are too!

Strictly speaking on story/fic requests, I'm only doing full fic requests on my Patreon, but occasionally I'll be able to do a short imagine/HC when something strikes me. For example, you pose a really interesting question. I think the answer would depend on Soldier Boy/Ben's level of growth/character development.

Like, if we're talking about Break Me Down version of Ben, for example, I've actually thought about this a bit before! If he had the opportunity to talk to his younger self, let's say in the 80s (shortly before Nicaragua):

What (BMD) Soldier Boy/Ben Would Say to His Younger Self

"You just think you've got it all figured out, don't you?" Ben says, crossing his arms at his younger counterpart.

"What? I'm at the top of my game?" Soldier Boy says. He smokes a joint, blowing up smoke casually and arrogantly.

Ben chuckles. "That's what you think."

Soldier Boy frowns. "The whole fucking world worships me. Whatever I want, I get. Women, picture deals, a fucking statue in front of Vought tower-- Hell, I've got hit after hit record on the top of the charts, for fuck's sake."

Ben just shakes his head. His rueful smile irks the other guy, but not as much as what he says next.

"And you're bored," Ben says. "You've got it all... But nothing's ever good enough, right?"

Soldier Boy's lips purse, but he doesn't have an answer. Not one he's willing to voice. Ben nods in understanding.

"It's all right. One day you'll find it," he says.

Soldier Boy frowns, his brows furrowing. "What do you mean, find it?"

Ben doesn't want to give away the punchline. This guy hasn't earned it yet. Not the way Ben knows he'll need to. Otherwise, he'll never understand what it all meant. What all those years struggling alone in the dark, and what betrayal, loneliness, and pain were worth.

No, he won't give it all away. But he'll give him this, at least.

"It's the simplest thing in the world," Ben says. "You're gonna meet a woman."

Granted, the way he met you was anything but simple. The way Ben sees it now, though, it is simple.

Soldier Boy's frown fades, his face turning wry. "A woman, huh? Think I've got plenty of those. Any time, any place, any way I want."

"Not this one," Ben says. He can't help a small, reserved smile when he thinks of you. "Matter of fact, she's going to test your last ever-fucking nerve, every day of your life...but you're not gonna be the same."

Ben thinks about the life he's built with you. He thinks about his daughter, Lila, and his son on the way. Ben pictures the house in his mind--Christmases, birthdays, wedding anniversaries, along with missions gone awry, and the fights and arguments that reverberated on those walls. Moments where his temper got the best of him, or your stubbornness made you dig your heels in. All of it is worth it.

"Then one day, you're going to wake up and realize that you've got everything you need," Ben says.

Soldier Boy seems to take that in. He's still skeptical, but maybe secretly interested in the bright future lying in wait behind his older self's eyes, even though he doesn't want to show it.

"Yeah? And then what?" Soldier Boy asks, in a tone that scoffs, but Ben sees that he's serious too, and he's listening. He knows it as well as he knows himself.

Ben levels a pointed finger at him.

"All you need to do, is protect it."

AN: It's like the old Spiderman meme where he's pointing at himself. lol 💚

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