#non dumb headcanon

[myimaginationplain]

bill x ford x stan love triangle real....

[charlotte-family-apologist]

ok i saw your post about manifesting asks and im here with some real dumb headcanons

- syzoth and ashrah have a heat lamp (because of course. coldblood.)

- they never go out to eat at buffets because they're absolute monsters

- literally ashrah has no table manners. and syzoth is a lizard

- whenever they go out to eat they have to HURRY home or syzoth will end up on the nearest warm surface to digest

- going off the assumption that earthrealm and outworld fauna are completely different, reiko would lose to a hippopotamus in kombat if he ever met one

- johnshi goes to the beach. kenshi relaxes on a towel under an umbrella and does cool beach shit. johnny digs an absolutely fucking giant hole.

- kurtis stryker had an emo phase in high school

I love dumb headcanons

You know how Sareena has a demon form? I headcanon the other members of the sisterhood of shadow also have a demon form. The more Ashrah redeems herself the less she is able to use it. But it still saps her energy and influences her behavior thus the insane appetite.

(I want to make some designs for them- I’ve already made one for Sareena where she’s a boar demon and I’m thinking maybe a crane for Ashrah bc her whole wing/holy theme. Idk for the other two)

Reiko also picked a fight with a kangaroo and it was more embarrassing than losing to Raiden 😭🤚 (he hasn’t even fought the large birds yet- his ass is not gonna survive)

Kenshi has his headphones in the whole time and ends up falling asleep and doesn’t notice when Johnny screams when the wave comes in and fills it with water. They’re still finding sand and Kenshi hates it.

Kurtis has gone scorched earth on his old photos and internet accounts but Kabal still managed to find some and teasing him about it.

[overwhelmed-alien]

Thought of this while watching Chicago Fire - the ep where the new admin girl at the firehouse tried to seduce a firefighter. This is so dumb and probably out of character but I don’t care lol. I’m a sucker for both Firefighter!Rooster and Soft!Jake AUs! (Jake being a Navy vet ER nurse inspo comes from binge watching The Night Shift!).

TW: mentions firefighters, but contains no actual fire.

Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw is used to the attention. It comes with the territory of being a firefighter, more so in knowing that he’s, well, incredibly attractive. Especially in uniform. His husband - the most beautiful man on earth in his opinion (and the opinion of almost everyone who meets him) - never holds back from calling him hot every chance he gets, and Jake has never lied to Bradley, so he believes him.

So when the pretty new admin girl at the station starts blatantly flirting with him, he honestly thinks nothing of it. He gets flirted with every single day - the lady who’d been trapped in the elevator the day before had almost climbed him like a tree when he pried the doors open, biceps bulging nicely in his uniform tee, and in hindsight he doesn’t believe it was because she was panicking and trying to escape. He still isn’t sure how she’d popped all those buttons on her blouse so quickly.

The other squad members clock it instantly, however. They all love Rooster like family, and they’re as protective over his husband as they are of Bradshaw. Jake is a beloved honorary member of the squad, and they’ve benefitted from his stress-baking so much that they’ve had to work extra hard at the gym lately. Captain Mitchell, who loves them all like a father, especially Rooster - his actual godson - always makes it known that Jake is his favorite. Understandably so, considering his infamous sweet-tooth.

So when they see New Girl trying to put the moves on their Rooster, they take it personally, especially when she doesn’t stop when he politely ignores her, or when he flashes his wedding ring more often.

“I wouldn’t do that, hon. You’re barking up the wrong tree.” Trace says to her.

“I’ve never met a tree that didn’t appreciate my barking.”

“He’s a happily married tree.” Machado chimed in. “To a badass ER nurse.”

A wedding ring had never stopped New Girl from getting what she wanted.

“A freaking hot ER nurse.” Mickey, the probie, sighed. “A gorgeous badass ER nurse. Solid 10. Total knockout. Blond bombshell ER nurse.”

“Who brings us cookies.” Bob added.

“Seriously, best ass I’ve ever seen,” this was Halo. “I don’t know how Rooster formulates thoughts around that ass in a pair of scrubs.”

“I can assure you he doesn’t.” Cap mutters, not even slowing down as he walks by, nose buried in a clipboard.

New Girl could feel the abject jealousy rising in her throat at the woman they were describing, a woman she’d never met but hated with her entire being, a woman who had the audacity to have snagged the object of her desire AND be attractive while doing it. It only spurred her to flirt harder.

Until the day HE came to the station. He didn’t so much “walk” as strut, like he owned the place, like he knew this was his domain, like he knew the room was instantly elevated with his presence. From the perfectly quaffed blond hair, the Hollywood grin, the toned Adonis body covered in nondescript green scrubs and a soft-looking cardigan, he was everything New Girl usually chased after, but for some reason the sight of him made her hackles rise. This man was was not prey, she could feel it, though she didn’t understand why. Like two feral cats eyeing the same scrap of meat, and as those sharp green eyes raked over and promptly dismissed her, she instantly knew she didn’t have a chance and would slink away hungry.

Firefighters and medics flock to this newcomer like a murder of crows excitedly flapping and cawing over the big wicker basket he carries. “Hope y’all like snickerdoodles!” cries a heavy, cheerful Texas twang.

“Jake, seriously, leave Rooster and marry me.”

“I would Harvard but your wife would kill me.”

“Hell if that’s so. She’d probably kill me, but she’d still love you!”

“Nobody gets to marry Jake but me!” She watches, and finally understands, as broody, stoic Bradley Bradshaw grabs this Jake - this “blond bombshell in scrubs” - in a bear hug from behind and hoists him bodily into the air, squeezing tight, looking for all the world like he had just captured an angel. Jake’s face is soft and sweet, even as he laughs and demands to be put down, and Rooster’s face is loose and happy in the way drunk people look when they dance. Like the world didn’t exist, just this blissful, stupidly confident feeling, and hearing the softly exchanged “hey, sweetheart”, “hi, handsome’”, seeing the lingering eyes, the hands and bodies that didn’t want to move too far away from the other, the world could have actually ceased to exist and those two wouldn’t have noticed.

New Girl knew then. She can work with lust. She can work with secrets and sneaking around and unhappy marriages and hormonal urges. But her whims and wiles were no match for love. And these two gorgeous people were openly, affectionately, auspiciously in love with each other.

When Rooster asks the next week “where did that new girl go? What’s her name?” The others just smirk to themselves. “She quit.”

“Huh.” He nods, unconcerned in the way oblivious people usually are. “Jake said he had a feeling she might.”

His gorgeous husband is so smart.

(My headcanon is that they still met while serving in the Navy, Bradley doing something stupidly heroic and Jake being the medic who yelled at him while saving his life. “Are you a complete IDIOT?! You almost fuckin drowned! That was so, SO stupid Lt….Bradshaw? Really fuckin brave but even more fuckin stupid!” While Bradley just stares up at him like a dopey, twitterpated baby deer. He asked everyone who the foul-mouthed medic with the face of an angel was who saved him, and finally begged his godfather Ice to find out for him. First phone call: Hey it’s Bradley…uh, Lt Bradshaw-/ Oh yeah, the cute dumbass with the cow eyes I saved last month. Thought you were a goner for sure. - And then probably less than a year later they were engaged🥰)

New Girl scarfing the best snickerdoodle she’s ever eaten as she writes her resignation letter:

[azirowley]

Based on Sam mentioning he has a Japanese neck tie collection, paired with him being a computer nerd in the mid-late 80s, glued to the fact he loves noir media and clearly has an interest in detective fiction, I can only come to the conclusion that he's watched anime at least once and enjoyed it. Startling!

[specialized-rexan]

SCREENSHOTS I GOT FROM THE JEREMY JORDAN LIVESTREAM YESTERDAY. especially love the comments on his duck drawings. he was very proud of some of them since he needed to practice before the stream. he admits he does not draw much lol

and here's Lucifer's signature that Jeremy came up with: a cursive capital L attached to a pentagram!

the stream was SO FUN and literally only felt like 20 minutes even tho it was almost an hour

at one point he mentioned he's making pancakes with olive oil now since he has high cholesterol, and that he LOVES how the pancakes turned out. someone responded:

(later someone joked he should make pancakes with bacon grease and he almost shouted (not angrily) "DO YOU WANT ME TO DIE? I JUST SAID I HAVE HIGH CHOLESTEROL. I just said. I had high cholesterol. Are you TRYING. To kill me."

anyway back to screenshots lol)

"Take that, depression!" was a popular quote to write on prints, and he said he hoped we're not depressed and it was very sweet

some more quotes written during the stream and other notes:

"I'm gonna be signing these prints of my boy Lucifer, the short king of Hell"

he drank both a cold smoothie and hot tea during the stream. "Doesn't make any goddamn sense, but here we go."

"It's never too late to fuck up--too late to fuck shit up" (a legitimate accidental stammer. but still perfect in its own way)

"Every time I hear the name 'Shay' I think of my daughter's friend at school. My daughter's obsessed with a friend named Shay. 'S all she talks about. 'Shay Shay Shay Shay Shay Shay.' Shay and Madeline. It's like 'You can be your own person. Clara. You are your own HUMAN.' …HAPPY BIRTHDAY, KATHERINE."

hopes to go to some conventions for Hazbin Hotel. more likely to go to cons in New York, New Jersey (where he lives), or Philly area

"He's just a li'l cutie. :3 Is he really da bosh? :3" (wondering if Lucifer really is the Big Boss of Hell Himself or if it's just more of a title)

"Hope you're not depressed"

" 'Write something Lucifer would say to cheer someone up.' And I think Lucifer would think that… 'SINGING MAKES EVERYTHING BETTER!' At least when it comes to rebuilding your relationship with your daughter."

"Guess what's in my smoothie. There are six ingredients. Go."

"…said draw a little duck, so I drew the smallest duck I could. (holds print up to camera then says in small high-pitched voice:) It's a little duck!"

MORE QUOTES UNDER THE CUT. THIS POST IS GETTING LONG ASFQJSKSKSKKS

_____

about his smoothie again: "Obviously, I just went to the gym. So I gotta have some kinda supplement in there. ... WHAT'S THE BASE, Y'ALL? YOU GOTTA HAVE A BASE." (someone could use that audio and give a character a bass guitar lol)

(still about people guessing smoothie ingredients:) "WATER? Why would I put water in my smoothie. (mutters:) Water is for losers. ... Kale! -grins and points at camera- That's it! You win. That's my smoothie."

his smoothie was blueberries, bananas, strawberries, protein powder, almond milk, kale

"…with a hUUGE shmiley faysh! :3" (about a little " =) " smile he wrote with an autograph)

"THAT DUCK IS CUTE!"

"We love, we stan Lilith"

AGGRESSIVELY, ABOUT A JOKE HE MADE: "GET IT?"

Some fatherly advice from Lucifer: "Don't fuck up your lives like I did 😎"

HE SANG THE START OF HELL'S GREATEST DAD AND WANTS A MIMZY-LESS VERSION THAT ACTUALLY HAS AN ENDING QSJFKSKKSKS

he's only seen Hazbin Hotel once, and he had "~champagne fountains, caviar mountains, that's just to staaart~" going through his head for the two+ years between recording his lines and the show airing. he wasn't able to tell anyone it because of non-disclosure stuff, and eventually he even forgot what that song line was from. but it still went through his head

"[Person he was signing an autograph for] is a bi girl [bisexual], and that's pretty baller"

"AN INCREDIBLE DUCK YOU SHALL HAVE"

"Take that depression!! Quack"

"Hold please!" (i just liked imagining Lucifer saying almost any small thing)

Jeremy Jordan says Lucifer is short, and not just that all the other characters are tall (i cannot confirm that that is canon even tho that's what i want LOL) "What gives!? There are short people in this world, and they need some love"

someone asked what he thinks about OC x canon ships. he was confused about what OC means and then when the chat explained, he was confused about how "OC x canon" works. but he figured it out after thinking for a moment. "So basically everybody wants to fuck Lucifer. GOT IT."

"Am I going to Hell for this" (about all the pentagrams he's drawing)

"…so i just did a bunch of stars and hearts around Emery's name 💜"

someone asked about his favorite Hazbin Hotel song, and he answered that season 2 has a rock song he really likes 👀 👀

"(a requested phrase for an autograph:) 'Duck lord loves you no matter what.' ...Don't know what that particularly means but…"

[muldermuse]

just thinking about how if you had a cat, they would definitely like Fox

like most times, when there’s new people around they get nervous and hide in closets or behind the sofa

but Fox has been round a few times now and you’d obviously pre warned him about your cat like “don’t take it personally, it’s a cat- I feed them, care for them and love them with all my heart and they don’t really like me”

at first, the cat is indifferent. a few cautious sniffs of his hands and his shoes but that’s it

SO when you go out to collect the pizza order and come home to find Fox laying on your couch with your cat dozing on his chest you’re completely taken aback

the cat stays by his side basically all night, when he stops stroking, your cat lets out the smallest meow and looks at him and Fox is like “I have cramp from petting you! Gimme two minutes to rest and I’ll be back at it”

whenever Fox comes through the door, the cat is next to his feet, meowing and basically pleading with him for just a CRUMB of attention

at night when you get in bed, Fox is already there lying against the headboard with his glasses on and a cat on his chest. the cats eyes are closed and they’re purring so LOUD as Fox is petting them and cooing over them

and Fox teases u about it, you’ll walk in and the cat will be on him and he’ll be pretending they were talking about you, “socks was telling me that you were late feeding her last night . she asked if i could move in because I’m more attentive” and he has such a SMIRK on his face even though he is acting like he’s having a full blown gossip with your own cat

“honestly Socks, you can have him. he’s a bit too weird for me”

[satorusluver]

Once again thinking about that JJK college AU I mentioned a while ago and I'm dying to know what majors you think the guys would have??

[kavehayati]

Guys what does non sharing self shipper mean bc surely that doesn’t mean you’re 100% gatekeeping the chara if you’re consuming content others made ?? Like ;; bc if you gatekeeping said character, that means you gotta acknowledge the fact others thought of that chara in those situations yk ?

Like idk what I am, but I’m very very very particular abt my characterisation of kaveh. The only Kaveh I like is canon kaveh. And canon kaveh is the same kaveh in my head even tho obviously I extend his character a fair bunch in my mind. Obvi,, cause nobody gets him like I do fellas 😞 and I say this with so much faith cause istg nobody does 😓 it kinda makes me a tad annoyed if I do see someone claiming that he’s their fave BUT NOT FOR THE REASON YOU THINK OK ! it’s bc ppl ALWAYS mischaracterise him.

it’s SO annoying I swear … like UGH I just had to have the character I like sm be a fan favourite who gets his image dragged to smithereens to the point he’s irrecognisable …

like do NAWT play with me — Kaveh ain’t no twink 😭 he’s also not a damsel in distress … HE ALSO ISNT PAYING RENT BY DOING THE NASTY WITH ALHAITHAM FUCK YOU ALL 😭 and he doesn’t do shit with alhaitham argue with the wall and fuck you again for good measure.

And I swear if I hear someone say he’s dumb … I’m in your walls. I’m in your ceilings. And I’m gonna hocus pocus you to last century where the existence of Kaveh never was. So stfu before I do black magic on your sorry ass 😭

[emile-hides]

I don’t know where my brain is today but I’m now on team Super Show I think Iggy and Lemmy are twins and the modern day tall Beanpole Iggy Koopa is just what happened when he got on HRT

[rcdiostcrs]

if you want to know what ceader sounds like, just listen to nicholas doing his tzp impression. (he does an american accent twice in this video).

[kodamaghost00]

30 L lawliet Headcanons

———————————————————

[Disclaimer!!]

This post will contain: NSFW,Sfw, Fluff, Smut It's also Genderless for the girls,gays and theys!

You’re a task force member in this scenario.

———————————————————

He wouldn’t call you any nicknames, so that the other task force members won’t notices you two liking each other.

But the few times you two are alone together he calls you “Dear” or “Love”. He sticks with the romantic names.

He shares all his sweets with you, but you have to ask him nicely.

He enjoys gentle affection way more than rough love. Gentle hugs or forehead kisses are always welcome.

He doesn’t fall in love easily. In fact I would put him into the Aromatic spectrum. Only for the fact that he’s too focused on being the greatest detective of all time.

It took him some time as well to notice he loves you. Around 2-3 years to be exact.

He had some people seeking his love, but he never responded to any of them.

He’s probably the smartest man alive so sometimes you feel dumb next to him. (Sometimes he reassures you that you’re doing great)

His love language is Acts Of Service. He appreciates it the most when you buy him cake. He loves it even more when you backe one yourself!

He rarely cries. Like at all. You saw him cry like 1-2 times since you got to know him years ago.

He’s very paranoid of Kira killing you. Most of the time he tries to exclude you from the investigation.

Once you made him strawberry shortcake and he loved it! Loved it so much he wanted to show you how grateful he was…

He loves to give and receive neck kisses. He’d leave hickeys on you too but only where people can’t see them.

After all he wants to enjoy you alone. He’s very gentle so he rarely bites you. Not even when you ask him.

“I just don’t want to hurt you, that’s all. You’re so stubborn…”

He has great reflexes and is super flexible as well. He’s willing to try everything for your sake.

He also has a lot stamina. So you have to be prepared for nights that will last long. He cums throughout a lot.

He canonically can tie a cherry stem with his tongue only. Do whatever you want with this information.

He whimpers. But groans when he’s close.

He’s always awkward when it comes to aftercare. He doesn’t know what you want/need so he just decides to ask “What do you want to do now…?”

His cluelessness makes you chuckle most times but he does whatever you ask from him.

He’s not a fan of “sour” fruits like kiwi,pineapple or cranberry. He enjoys the sweeter stuff like banana,strawberry and cherry!

He’s the type of person that’s go non-verbal and let you ramble about your special interests. Not interfering once. Just absorbing all the information you provide.

If you guys fight he will apologize. Even if he knows he is right. He doesn’t like fighting with his loved ones.

He likes to buy you gifts at many times… he likes seeing your surprised smile!

He likes to hear your breathing while you sleep in one bed. It’s a nice ambiance.

He hates nuts. Walnuts, peanuts or even almonds. Everything nut related is a no go.

Every time you do something to make him laugh like embarrassing yourself for his sake, he laughs out of pity for you…

His full genuine laugh is so contagious… it’s really rare, so rare that no one besides you and Watari heard it before.

He takes his time with marriage or any commitment. He wants to make sure that you’re REALLY ready to marry a man like him.

———————————————————

MASTERLIST

Hey guys! I’m really sorry that these took so long… and I’m also sorry if some Headcanons should come up twice, I’ve written this over a month now and just now finished it… don’t be too harsh on me!!!

- Your Ghost ༼ つ ╹ ╹ ༽つ

[godzexperiment]

the way 'human' nix's 6th sense for other angels operates is actually quite comedic (like damn he can't explain shit about it if anybody inquires but he sure will scale down the 7th story of an building to avoid it getting worst)

[carnivorousarcher]

red evbo design ….. auhhhhhhhhh my boy. i hate him a normal amount

headcanons and longer explainations for the stuff i wrote:

“is colorblind (doesn’t know)” i think it would be SO funny if he thought he was green too. like if he has protanopia. he either spawned in red like this and started making the clones wrong (green) or saw that the clones have clothing matching their eye color and just got that “shade of green” that his own eyes are. mf your eyes are Red.

“the clones have their number on the tag inside the hoodie” self explanatory. parkciv evbo could be #360 LMAO

“injured his hand and tried to fix it (now there’s no skin texture)” i imagine he burnt or cut his hand or some physical scar that you can see but he didn’t want to look different so he tried fixing it in his code or something. and lost the texture. (i mean texture as in like an unfolded minecraft skin. you get it ik you get what im saying.) Also he’s still an evbo so maybe he can be a little bit dumb too

i used the png checkerboard cause it looks better for character design but the minecraft “missing texture” texture is lowkey funnier and more fitting…… but its just so bright (and less ppl would get it probably)

(needed to add some vague unexplained thing that makes him a little non-human. for tumblr sexyman appeal…… and lets be honest for me i cannot have normal human blorbos)

[justhereforsubsevika]

NSFW alphabet- Sevika!! Some sub some dom

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Dom!Sevi is extremely meticulous when it comes to aftercare. If she's been spanking you she ensures that she's coated your ass in aloe vera, the cool gel soothing and healing. She'll wipe you clean with warm cloths and kiss you gently, cradling you in her arms until you drift off.

Sub!Sevi is a mess. She'll squirm and whine wherever you touch her, even if it's somewhere completely non-sexual (like her nose or forehead). She can stay in subspace for ages after, so you often find yourself staying up a while after you're done to coax her back into reality. She'll nuzzle into you and hiss when her thighs put too much pressure on her sensitive clit, poor baby :(

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

She loves her ass. Whenever she comes out the shower she'll drop her towel and stare back at herself in the mirror, gripping it and bouncing it in her hand(s).

She thinks your eyes are the most special thing about you. She loves to stare at you whether she's dom, sub or just living her day-to-day life. Eye contact never made her so weak until she looked into your eyes for the first time.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

I've touched on this recently, but cum-sharing is so major for her. She'll squirt into your mouth and immediately scramble to have you plant sloppy kisses on her, moaning at the way the liquid gushes over her face. She'll spit the cum she's gathered on her tongue from eating you out down your throat. Sometimes she just dribbles it over your cheeks and licks it back up again. She's gross, you love it.

Breeding strap yada yada she loves to fill you up and loves to be filled up yada yada

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

It's a little sad but her femininity and submissive nature were her dirty secret when you first went out. She's glad she doesn't have secrets with you anymore.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Girl. She's 40. My girl knows what's what.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Sorry to be boring but missionary. It's the fact she can look into your eyes, press your breasts up against each others, grab at pretty much anything she pleases whether she's topping or bottoming. Also means you can hold hands for the days where either of you need a little reassurance.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Serious in the moment, goofy after (when she's not deep in subspace). She'll say dumb shit like "erm, what the sigma," after you guys are finished being freaktastic because she knows it freaks you out that she knows brainrot (sorry to bring isha up at such a crazy time but isha taught her the brainrot through sign language, so sometimes she pronounces words wrong- skibeyedi toilet being your personal fav)

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Let's be serious. Bae is natural, bae is wild, bae is free. That bush pokes out through thongs, pierces the material of her boxers.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Depends. Sometimes she's just in the moment, lost in her dom/sub space, Sevika gone and Sevi left in the room. Sometimes she's way more vanilla, still passionate, and she'll kiss you softly, press your foreheads together while you fuck, kiss your knuckles and hold your hands to her heart.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

You know those websites where you can get a custom dildo moulded of someone's dick? She has a fleshlight version of that. She'll bury her face in it while she fucks herself, or finger it, or rub it against her pussy. She can't cum without at least something that resembles your pussy being with her.

Owns a fuck machine (which she still hasn't told you about) and uses it whenever you let her masturbate.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Sub!Sevi likes size. She likes to be stretched, likes to be filled. She is, of course, a masochist. Bae loves to be hurt above anything else.

Does cum sharing count as a kink? If it does then that.

Dom!Sevi loves to praise and degrade you.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

She's freaky, she likes public stuff. She once booked a private beach so you two could fuck on it all day. She'll organise hikes to secluded hilltops so she can make you squirt overlooking your entire city. When you go on nature walks it often ends with you two ducking behind a tree, sucking on her clit and making her water the grass.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Noise. Audio. Noises and audios.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

CNC, sorry to the freaks in the room but nothing about the words "no" and "stop" are sexy to her. If she gets an inkling that you're pushed to your limit she'll freak out. The one time you safeworded when she was domming she locked herself in her study and cried for 3 hours.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

She'll take happily, she will give happily. She loves to have her face in your pussy 24/7, often times shuffling around the floor, arms wrapped around your hips, nose pressed against your clit while you get on with housework.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Sub!Sevi likes it slow and soft when she's taking something big. She can get really overwhelmed really quickly so you never want to push her too much.

Sub!Sevi likes it rough if you're fingering her or using a vibrator on her. She'll throw her hips up whenever you press on her clit, needing the sensations as deep against her skin as possible.

Dom!Sevika will go with whatever pace you like, but she has the capability to jackhammer you if you're into that.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Loves. You both have busy lives so she loves to get a quick orgasm in whenever she can.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Since she loves outdoor sex, she's a huge risk taker. One time the police nearly caught you fucking in her car in a car park, but luckily you ducked down quick enough for them not to notice that Sevika was being eaten out.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

One time you went for 48 hours straight. Her stamina's mental, despite the smoking.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

She loves toys! She couldn't survive without her strap (or yours), and vibrators will always have a special place in her heart since thats when she felt safe to sub with you for the first time.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

She doesn't. Bae is a horny girl, she physically cannot bring herself to be a tease and hates it when you deprive her.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Dom!Sevi will go from murmuring and whispering to roaring and shouting depending on the day.

Sub!Sevi is loud, high pitched, cracked and hoarse. Her sounds get you drunk on her.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

She does the cape reveal with the strap but it's extremely serious for her.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Big juicy muscles, nipples pierced, a tattoo she doesn't know she has on her hip (jinx did it on her when she was passed out after a long night of drinking) of a blue monkey, delicate thongs and garters under her trousers/shorts.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

She's on the asexual spectrum (demi) so doesn't tend to get celebrity crushes or enjoy casual sex (brothel was more of a coping mechanism than a place for pleasure), but is a super mega freak once you're in a relationship.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Sub!Sevika takes a lot of soothing for her to go to sleep.

Dom!Sevika (once finished with aftercare) will pass out and snore so loud you swear the walls shake. In the morning she'll deny all knowledge of this and insist that she doesn't snore.

[fangdokja]

His affection is a slow poison—sweet, deadly, and inevitable.

❤︎ Synopsis. In a love that teeters between devotion and obsession, escape is futile—his jealousy isn’t just possessive, it’s a consuming force that leaves no room for freedom. With each calculated act, he dismantles your world, ensuring you’ll always belong to him, body and soul.

♡ Book. Forbidden Fruits: Intimate Obsessions, Unhinged Desires.

♡ Pairing. Yandere! Baizhu x Fem. Reader, Yandere! Itto x Fem. Reader, Yandere! Kazuha x Fem. Reader, Yandere! Lyney x Fem. Reader

♡ Headcanons. Heart's Chains - Part 3

♡ Word Count. 4,223

♡ TW. dom + top + older yandere, non con, psychological manipulation and conditioning, suggestive themes, fear play, emotional manipulation and abuse, hints at rough play and sex, psychological and emotional trauma, isolation, monitoring, lack of boundaries, non con kissing and touching, forced relationship, BDSM, manipulation of circumstances, threats, drugging, removal of rivals

♡ Note. Due to Tumblr policy, all characters are all of age.

♡ A/N. Low-key wanted to make Itto a mean dom. Dumb yanderes are so difficult to write. I cry. Next to any ISTJ yandere, dumb yanderes are second hardest.

♡ Baizhu – The Alchemist’s Poison.

Baizhu’s smile, a sickly sweet balm, cloaked the sharp intent glinting behind his eyes. “Life, my precious flower,” he murmured, his voice soft yet suffocating, “is much too frail to entrust to anyone but me. Your delicate hands were never meant to bear its burdens. Allow me—only me—to carry them for you.”

His words wrapped around you like silk, tightening, fraying your resolve into ribbons of compliance. At first, you had convinced yourself his devotion was genuine—a healer’s oath steeped in compassion. Protector, savior, guardian—he wore these roles as if born to them. But beneath the guise of benevolence lurked a darker truth, insidious and inescapable: his care was a tether, his love a poison.

Baizhu’s jealousy was not a roaring inferno. It crept, unseen, like a toxin leeching into your veins. Slowly, methodically, it burrowed into every crevice of your existence. His presence was a parasitic vine, wrapping tighter with every passing day, strangling the independence you once held dear.

“You shouldn’t be walking so much,” he chided, golden eyes alight with feigned concern. “Your condition is far too delicate. Let me carry you. It’s for your own good.”

Before you could protest, his arms enveloped you, a cage of bone and sinew disguised as comfort. His touch was firm yet tender, his embrace perfumed with the faint, omnipresent scent of medicinal herbs. It was a paradox—gentle yet unyielding, a mirror of his love. Resistance melted under his grasp, and you allowed him to carry you, unaware that each small acquiescence forged another link in the chains binding you to him.

He didn’t need shackles of steel. His care sufficed.

Every bite of food, every sip of water passed through his meticulous hands. Initially, this vigilance seemed thoughtful, an extension of his role as your healer. But soon, you began to notice the peculiar intensity in his gaze. His fingers lingered on the rim of your cup; his lips curved in a fleeting smile as fatigue claimed your body after every meal.

“I’ve perfected the balance of your medicines,” he explained one evening, his tone that of a patient tutor. “You wouldn’t want to disrupt such a delicate equilibrium, would you, my flower?”

His golden eyes gleamed with a quiet, unnerving conviction. You nodded, your will eroding under the weight of his unrelenting care. After all, who else could understand the intricacies of your fragile condition? Who else could safeguard your life? His words became gospel, seeping into your thoughts until you could no longer distinguish them from your own.

The world beyond his reach began to wither. Friends drifted away, their once-familiar faces blurred by distance and neglect. When you asked why they no longer visited, Baizhu’s expression remained serene, his explanation a dagger wrapped in velvet.

“Their presence was too disruptive,” he said, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. “Your health is paramount. I simply told them the truth—only I know how to care for you properly.”

But the truth, like blood from a deep wound, eventually bled through the fabric of his lies. Friends who lingered too long fell ill with strange, inexplicable ailments. Their messages grew cryptic, laced with unspoken warnings, before ceasing entirely. The patterns became undeniable: his love was a scalpel, precise and unrelenting, excising anything that threatened his hold over you.

“Why would you question me, my sweet?” he murmured one night, his voice a silken noose tightening around your sanity. “Why would you need anyone else when I am here? Devoted to you in every conceivable way. I love you more than they ever could.”

His words clung to you, heavy and inescapable. His love was a sanctuary that felt like a tomb, gilded with care but suffused with suffocation. His golden gaze consumed you, twin suns burning with an intensity that brooked no dissent. When his lips brushed the curve of your neck, it wasn’t affection you felt but possession, his breath a ghostly claim against your skin.

“You belong to me,” he whispered, his tone as unyielding as his touch. “You always have. No one else deserves the honor of protecting someone as precious as you.”

Nights became a battleground of silence and shadows. You’d wake to find him seated beside your bed, his gaze fixed on you with an unreadable intensity. His fingers traced the pulse at your throat, the curve of your cheek, as though memorizing the fragility of your existence.

“Your heart beats because I will it,” he’d murmur, each word sinking into your skin like thorns. “Every breath you take is my gift. Don’t squander it, my dear.”

You wanted to scream, to claw at the suffocating vines of his obsession. But your body betrayed you, weakened by his tinctures, his “cures,” his meticulous control. You were a bird in a gilded cage, your wings clipped by the very hands that professed to shelter you.

———

One day, your curiosity betrayed you, leading you to his forbidden study. The air was thick with the acrid scent of dried herbs and volatile chemicals. Shelves groaned under the weight of ominous vials and weathered tomes. On the desk lay an open journal, its pages filled with meticulous observations—each breath you took, each flicker of pain, each moment of weakness—all cataloged in his precise, clinical handwriting.

Sketches of your anatomy adorned the pages, grotesquely detailed and annotated with chilling precision. One depicted your ribcage flayed open, each bone meticulously labeled, accompanied by notes speculating on the exact placement of your heart during moments of heightened stress. Diagrams of your organs, veins, and skeletal structure were paired with notes on your diet, your habits, your vulnerabilities.

“I’ve ensured your survival against impossible odds,” his voice broke the silence, calm but carrying a razor-sharp edge. You turned to find him standing in the doorway, his expression unreadable. “Every sacrifice I’ve made, every choice, has always been for you. Surely, you understand that, my little flower?”

He approached with measured steps, his smile a blade slicing through your fragile resolve. The journal snapped shut in his hands, but its contents remained burned into your mind—a testament to the depth of his obsession. His fingers ghosted over your arm, his touch light but laden with menace.

“You’re safe with me,” he whispered, his breath warm against your ear. “Safer than you could ever be anywhere else in this world. Remember that. No one will ever cherish you as I do.”

In that moment, the truth crystallized: there was no escape. Baizhu’s love was a labyrinth of his own design, each twist and turn leading back to him. His care was both poison and sustenance, ensuring your survival while tethering you to his will. His arms encircled you, pulling you into an embrace that felt less like comfort and more like a shroud.

“You are mine,” he murmured, his voice a lullaby of finality. “Entirely, irrevocably, eternally mine.”

And as his golden eyes bored into yours, you felt the weight of his words settle over you like a funeral pall. You were his. Completely, inescapably his.

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♡ Itto – The Oni’s Claim.

The shadows of Hanamizaka stretched long and jagged, clawing at the cobblestone streets as the fading sunlight dipped below the horizon. A lone figure loomed in the suffocating dusk, his massive silhouette swallowing the narrow alleyway where you stood frozen. His horns glinted faintly in the dim light, sharp as blades and crowned with streaks of crimson that mirrored the sinister hues of his piercing gaze. Arataki Itto’s wild grin was plastered across his face, but it carried none of its usual warmth; it twisted instead into something feral, manic—a predator’s grin.

"Found ya," he breathed, his voice a low, throaty rasp that slithered into your ears like the scrape of steel against stone. His towering frame blocked out the world behind him, reducing your field of vision to his imposing presence alone. The air seemed to curdle in his wake, thickening like poison, as his heavy footsteps reverberated closer.

Panic rooted you in place, yet your heart pounded furiously against your ribs, desperate to flee. His molten eyes bore into you, their molten hue shifting between desperate adoration and something darker, something ravenous.

"Why…" he began, his tone suddenly trembling, cracking under the weight of unspoken anguish, "why do you keep trying to run from me? Don’t you know what that does to me?"

He stepped forward, the cobblestones groaning under his boots, and you flinched, instinctively pressing yourself against the cold, unyielding wall at your back. He stopped mere inches away, his massive hands hovering on either side of your head, boxing you in. His claws scraped faintly against the stone, a sound that sent shivers racing down your spine. When he leaned in, his breath was hot against your skin, tinged with the faint metallic tang of his desperation.

"Do you think they’ll protect you?" he whispered, his voice low and almost tender, though laced with an undercurrent of menace. "The Tenryou Commission? Those guys? They don’t even know you like I do. They don’t see the real you." His head tilted slightly, his grin softening but never losing its sharp edges. "I see you. I’ve always seen you. And you… you’re mine."

A trembling hand reached up, calloused fingers brushing against your cheek. His touch was reverent, almost gentle, but it left a burning trail that seared into your skin. You couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe. Every instinct screamed to fight back, to scream, but his sheer presence crushed you under its weight.

"I don’t blame you for being scared," he murmured, his voice softening into a low rumble that was no less terrifying. "I know I’m… a lot. I’ve got all this strength, all this power, and it’s overwhelming sometimes, isn’t it? But I’d never hurt you. Never. You’re too precious. Too perfect." His hand trailed down, clawed fingers ghosting over your jawline, your throat, before resting possessively on your shoulder. The weight of it felt suffocating, as if he was branding you with his very essence.

"You don’t have to run anymore," he continued, his tone softening into a chilling mockery of comfort. "I’ve taken care of everything. No one can take you from me now. Not Kujou Sara, not the Tenryou Commission, not anyone. They can’t… they won’t."

His grin faltered for a fraction of a second, and in its place flickered a raw, unguarded desperation.

"You don’t understand what you mean to me, do you?" His voice broke, trembling with something that might have been love if it weren’t so twisted, so wrong. "You’re the only thing keeping me together. Without you, I… I…" His hand tightened around your shoulder, and you whimpered involuntarily. The sound seemed to snap him out of whatever abyss he was spiraling into, and he grinned again, wide and wild and utterly unhinged.

"I’d go mad without you," he said, almost laughing, though the sound was hollow. "I’d tear this whole city apart if it meant keeping you safe. Keeping you with me. You get that, right?"

When you didn’t respond, his eyes darkened, the faint ember of vulnerability extinguished by an all-consuming need. His hands shot to your waist, yanking you forward against his chest in a vice-like grip. You gasped, struggling instinctively, but it only made him tighten his hold, his grin stretching impossibly wider.

"Ah, don’t do that," he murmured, almost playfully, though his voice had a razor-sharp edge. "You’re gonna hurt yourself if you keep squirming. And I… well, I can’t let that happen, can I?"

His claws dug faintly into your sides, not enough to draw blood but enough to remind you of the danger you were in. His gaze roamed over your face, his expression softening into something almost tender. But there was nothing tender about the way he held you, caging you in his strength, his warmth, his madness.

"We’re gonna be so happy together," he said, his voice dipping into a low, sing-song cadence that made your stomach churn. "Just you and me, forever. Doesn’t that sound nice?"

When you didn’t answer, he sighed, pressing his forehead against yours. His horns grazed your hair, and you felt their weight, their sharpness, as they loomed over you like a shadow of inevitability.

"You don’t have to say anything," he whispered, his tone softening into something almost gentle, though it sent ice coursing through your veins. "I already know. I can feel it. Deep down, you belong to me. Just like I belong to you."

As his lips ghosted over your temple, your pulse thundered in your ears. His grip on you tightened, as if afraid you’d disappear if he let go for even a second. His breath hitched, and when he spoke again, his voice was thick with emotion.

"I’ll never let you go," he said, his words a promise and a threat all at once. "Never."

And in that moment, you realized the truth—there was no escape. Not from him. Not from this. Not from the suffocating, inescapable web of his obsession.

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♡ Kazuha – The Whispering Wind.

Even the gentlest breeze seemed to falter when Kazuha spoke, as if the air itself dared not trespass against his claim on you. His voice, soft and melodic, carried an unyielding finality, each word a thread that tightened around your chest, making it harder to breathe.

“Even the wind,” he began, crimson eyes gleaming like embers against the dim light, “knowing no master, bends to my will when it concerns you. You are my tether, my anchor, and I would cleave the heavens themselves before I let you drift away.”

His words hung heavy in the air, suffocating in their weight. The stillness surrounding him was not peaceful; it was the predatory calm before the kill. There was no fury in his tone, no tremor of rage. His jealousy was a silent beast, deliberate and methodical, stalking its prey with unrelenting precision.

Kazuha stepped closer, his movements so measured and fluid they resembled the fall of cherry blossoms—graceful, yet foreboding. The faint tang of iron clung to him, mingling with the briny scent of the sea that perpetually lingered in his wake. Each step brought with it the unspoken threat of his presence, an oppressive reminder of your captivity.

“You wander,” he murmured, his voice tinged with melancholy, as if lamenting a betrayal. “As though you believe the world beyond me has something to offer you. But every gust, every whisper of the wind, carries my name to you. You are bound to me, no matter where you run.”

His hand lifted, calloused fingers brushing your cheek with a tenderness that felt cruel in its juxtaposition to the suffocating atmosphere. The touch lingered, deliberate, each stroke of his thumb against your jawline a silent claim. The gentleness in his touch was an illusion, a prelude to the iron grip that could follow in an instant.

“Do not ask what became of them,” he whispered, his breath warm against your skin, yet his words chilling. “The others who thought themselves worthy of your attention. They were obstacles, transient and disposable. You, however…” He paused, his gaze sharpening, the crimson of his eyes darkening like blood pooling beneath the surface. “You are eternal. My eternal.”

The room felt impossibly small, the air thick with the scent of copper and salt. Kazuha’s crimson gaze pinned you in place, dissecting you with an intimacy that felt invasive, wrong. His love was a maelstrom, a grotesque melody of devotion and madness that promised no escape. His blade, an extension of himself, was ever at the ready—not in open threat, but as a silent promise. The memory of screams and the wet, sickening sound of flesh yielding to steel lingered in the air like an unseen specter, a testament to his resolve.

When he spoke again, his voice was a velvet thread, soft and lethal. “You are the ink to my poetry, the essence of every verse I compose. Without you, my existence is meaningless. Do you see? Do you understand, my darling?”

You tried to step back, but his hands caught your face, his grip firm yet deceptively gentle. The dried blood on his fingers flaked off as he cradled your cheeks, the grotesque contrast of his tenderness and violence making your stomach churn. His touch was reverent, as if handling something sacred, yet the possessiveness in his gaze left no room for doubt. You were not a person to him; you were an artifact, a treasure, something to be hoarded and kept.

“Even if you begged the wind to carry you away,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your ear, “it would betray you. The wind knows its master, just as you do. And you… you belong here. In my arms. Where you are both loved and safe.”

But safety was a fragile veneer, cracked by the weight of his obsession. His hands slid lower, tracing the curve of your neck, his touch precise and clinical, like a surgeon mapping his incision points. The pressure was calculated, just shy of discomfort, a silent reminder of his control. His breath ghosted over your skin, warm and sickeningly intimate, as he continued his whispered declarations.

“The world conspires to take you from me,” he said, his tone softening, though the words carried the weight of a threat. “But I will not falter. I will carve away every threat, every obstacle. For you are the stillness within my tempest, the tether that binds me to this wretched existence.”

His crimson eyes softened, but the tenderness only made the madness within them more evident. His adoration was suffocating, a noose tightening around your throat. His kisses, ghosting over your skin, felt like brands, each one marking you as his. He handled you as if you were porcelain, fragile and irreplaceable, yet his gentleness carried an undercurrent of violence—a promise of what would happen if you dared to shatter his delusions.

“A caged bird still sings,” he murmured, his lips brushing against yours in a ghost of a kiss. “And your melody belongs to me.”

In the dim light, his blade gleamed faintly at his side, a silent reminder of the chaos he was capable of unleashing. His crimson gaze bore into yours, unrelenting and invasive, as if peering into the very marrow of your soul. The room grew colder, the air thick with unspoken promises and unrelenting devotion. You were trapped, not by walls, but by the suffocating weight of his love, a love that promised no escape, no freedom.

The wind, once your ally, had turned traitor. And you… you were a bird with broken wings, bound to a love that would never set you free.

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♡ Lyney – The Illusionist’s Trap.

He doesn’t let you see it—not at first, not when the stage lights cast their golden glow on his smile and the audience’s applause thunders like a heartbeat in the hollow theater. To them, he’s nothing more than a charming illusionist, the kind of man who bends reality with the flick of a wrist and the curl of his lips. But you’ve learned to see past the curtain, haven’t you? You’ve glimpsed the darkness that coils behind his playful eyes—a shadow that only ever seems to rise when someone steps too close to you.

“Ah, mon amour,” he murmurs, his breath ghosting over your ear as his fingers skim your wrist. “You’re the most precious part of my act. Do you think I’d ever let anyone ruin our performance?”

The words sound sweet, harmless, but the grip on your hand tightens just enough to send a chill down your spine. His smile doesn’t falter, not even as his gaze cuts across the room to the unfortunate soul who dared to look at you too long.

And that’s where the nightmare begins.

He doesn’t confront them outright; that wouldn’t do. No, his is a meticulous art, a silent war fought with whispers and invisible threads. The next morning, the admirer finds their belongings missing, their reputation tarnished by secrets they’d never breathed aloud. A scandal breaks. Their face pales in confusion, their voice trembling as they try to explain what cannot be explained.

It’s almost poetic, how quickly they fall apart. Like a magic trick they never saw coming.

And he’s always there, his arms slipping around your waist when the world feels unsteady, his voice low and soothing as he whispers, “What terrible luck they must have had. But don’t worry, ma chérie. I’ll keep you safe from such misfortune.”

You want to believe him. You try to convince yourself that the horrors swirling around you are coincidences, but it’s hard to ignore the glint in his eyes, the way his lips curl when he sees your unease. It’s as though he’s savoring every moment of your confusion, feeding off the fear he pretends not to notice.

One night, you confront him—or you try to. The words stick in your throat as he tilts his head, amusement flickering across his features like candlelight.

“Do you think I’m cruel?” he asks, his voice soft, almost tender. “Everything I do, I do for you. They looked at you like they had the right to dream. I merely reminded them of their place.”

You can’t respond. You’re too caught up in the way his fingers brush your cheek, his touch featherlight but suffocating all the same. His smile never wavers, even as his words twist like a knife in your chest.

“Do you know what scares me?” he continues, his tone darkening. “The thought of losing you. Of watching someone else steal the magic we’ve created together. Tell me you understand, ma chérie. Tell me you’d never betray me.”

The room feels colder, the air thinner. His hands linger on your shoulders, his thumbs tracing slow, deliberate circles that feel less like comfort and more like chains.

“Say it,” he presses, his voice dropping to a whisper. “Say you love me. Louder this time.”

When you hesitate, his grip tightens. The gentleness fades from his expression, replaced by something darker, hungrier.

“Do you need a reminder?” he asks, his smile sharpening. “It’s easy to forget, I suppose, with all these distractions. Perhaps I should show you just how deeply I care for you… and how easily I can remove anything that stands in our way.”

The next day, another admirer vanishes. This time, the disappearance isn’t quiet. Blood stains the cobblestones near the market, crimson streaks smeared across the street like grotesque brushstrokes. People whisper of a beast, a shadow that moves too quickly to see. And yet, when you turn to him, his expression remains serene, his hands steady as he adjusts the cuffs of his coat.

“Tragic, isn’t it?” he says, his tone almost pitying. “But some people just can’t resist playing with fire.”

You don’t ask him what he means. You don’t dare.

Instead, you let him pull you closer, his arms wrapping around you in a way that feels both protective and imprisoning. His lips brush your temple, his voice a murmur that seems to echo in your skull.

“We’re a perfect pair, you and I,” he says, his breath warm against your skin. “Like magic and illusion. One cannot exist without the other. And without me, my love, your world would crumble.”

The worst part is… he’s right.

His presence has become a constant, a thread woven into every corner of your life. He’s there when you wake, when you sleep, when you dream. His voice lingers in your thoughts, his touch a phantom that never fades. And as much as you want to pull away, you can’t deny the truth that’s buried deep within your chest:

You’ve fallen for the illusion.

But illusions, as he’s so fond of reminding you, are not meant to be escaped. They’re meant to be lived, cherished, and—if necessary—enforced.

“You’ll never leave me,” he promises, his voice as smooth as silk. “Not because you can’t, but because you won’t. Isn’t that right, ma chérie?”

And as his lips curve into that familiar, devastating smile, you realize he’s not asking. He’s telling you.

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[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

the basketball club headcanon no one asked for

OKAY SO

(I am so sorry for this}

I was thinking about how Hyuna from Alien Stage reminds me of Jamil... which made me realize Jamil looks very gender non-conforming... which then led me to this silly little headcanons where like...

It's the week before first classes and Ace, the brand-new freshman, is in Foothill Town buying school supplies. There, he happens to see Jamil out and about (in casual wear) and Ace totally mistakes him for an older girl. AND SO ACE WALKS UP TO JAMIL TRYIN' TO ACT ALL SLICK AND HIT ON HER (HIM)????? ?? ? ? ?? ???? ?? ? ? Jamil lets Ace ramble for a little while before interrupting and going, "Sorry to disappoint you, but I am a man." asdyugagyofgpdafieaaf AND ACE IS SO EMBARRASSED HE JUST RUNS OFF... (because Ace strikes me as someone who is very insecure about his sexuality) but it's okay, he tells himself, because it's not like he'll ever see this guy ever again.

... ONLY TO REALIZE “SHIT, THIS IS MY BASKETBALL CLUB SENPAI”... and Ace can't back out now cuz it'd be like admitting to his fault. Floyd wonders why the new team member's all skittish around Jamil, BUT JAMIL KNOWS. And he smirks at Ace whenever Ace is being a brat because Jamil knows he has that dumb story about him in his back pocket that he can whip out at any time to absolutely DEMOLISH him. afihlbiaibfabiad; Definitely would also make the training camp of book 5 a lot more awkward too!