#v. ( headcanon )

[changeling-droneco]

If you see this post you’re legally required to tell me at least one trans woman headcanons you have for a canonically male character, I never get to see transfem headcanons like that, give me them, and for equality of my own please know estrogen could have saved Insector Haga and Dinosaur Ryuzaki I will not elaborate, also Yuya.

[freefallintothevoid]

The real reason everyone makes fun of Dicks Discowing outfit is because he's the only one that can somehow pull it off

Every superhero and vigilante has has a costume like that at some point, something daring or a bit ridiculous that in hindsight that they just couldn't make work for whatever reason. Nightwing? The pretty motherfucker not only made it work, he slayed in that outfit. It looks ridiculous by itself on display in the batcave but not when Nightwing puts it on

The only reason Dick doesn't know this is because all his siblings have collectively gaslit him into thinking that it's his worst costume to date.

[heartfullofleeches]

"Release my penis from the dick magic you've inflicted upon me, Witch-"

"The who I did what now with?- Ow!-"

Sitting up in your boyfriend's bed, a pillow strikes the blindside of your head as you prop yourself up on your elbows. You roll onto your side as they throw themselves onto the massive, curling up into a fetal position next to you.

"I can't jerk off- Not without thinking about you. Literal thousands of dollars of commissions down the fucking drain because you won't get out of my head for five minutes!"

Turning over to face him, you can hardly see why they're complaining. "And that's my problem.... How?"

"Do you want to know what make me bust so hard I lost the hearing in my ear? Us kissing. Both of us still had our clothes on. There was barely any tongue involved either, I got so worked up over the tamest thing possible - Do you even know what I used to get off to before we met?"

"...It's probably better for my overall health if I didn't.'

[facelessmime]

ALRIGHT UHH

V finds Solver Uzi hot now. do with that idea what you will

She likes a feral goth gf. And honestly? She's so valid.

I'm absolutely adding a bonus to this- This piece robbed me of my sleep so its bed time lol. (Ilovethemsomuchandiwoulddieforthisship)

Edit: Here's that bonus ;)

[kirishwima]

JJK guys when you see them with someone else (but it's a misunderstanding, really)

Part 1 ft Gojo, Toji

Gojo:

Toji:

[smoosie]

"It's Viktor Donoshortenmyname."

+ extra part for comfort

[audiart]

Post Series designs for the DDs!

N is settling in just fine! Finally proposed to Uzi 3 years after the Solver's defeat, getting a shit-ton of therapy after everything that's happened, and helping the Worker Drones demolish and rebuild the surface world! Cyn stitched the moon and sun on his shorts, at any time you can find 3-4 cool rocks in his pockets.

V doesn't hang around the Bunker too often but mostly crashes at N and Uzi's place or Lizzy's— she's happy exploring beyond their old hunting territory and bringing back any exciting finds or coordinates of other Worker Drone settlements she terrorizes discovers. She's out here living her best life free as can be!

J is,, not doing too well. Decades of being reluctantly compliant with Solver's orders until it's all she knew, so deep into the deception that she started believing the lies herself and having all that familiar song and dance (watching the Solver destroy yet another planet) ripped away in a single night? Not good on the mind, apparently.

J avoids all other Drones unless she's hunting them for oil, and if she is spotted it's likely near one of the ship pods and goes combative immediately if approached. She's VERY protective of the sling bag she always has on; inside being Tessa's cremated remains. It's all J has left.

She's utterly lost on what else to do. No boss, no orders, and finally coming to terms with what she's been through and what she's done to aid in the destruction of countless lives and entire planets. Her goal is to leave Copper-9 to go back to Earth (there is no Earth anymore) and finally lay Tessa to rest (They both hated Earth but it was the last place they were happy) (she'll never succeed and this girl needs CLOSURE).

[da-birb-writes-sometimes]

Feelings Thawed

Character; Cater Diamond

Content; Fluff, gender-neutral reader, pining, ice skating (to various degrees of success)

Word Count; 650+

Author's Note; This is a present/thank you to my mutual @i-like-forgs. I hope you enjoy this ice skating scene with Cater, and that you get to skate soon!

As a reminder, do not put my work — or others for that matter — into AI as it steals. Link to Masterlist

The brisk wind bit at your nose, and you pulled up your scarf, trying to keep away the offending wind. Around you it was a winter wonderland, all made possible in the temperate conditions thanks to Cater, who was filming you skating around on the frozen pond’s surface.

“You know,” you hollered, making sure that you caught his attention, “you should join me! It’s fun!” You came to a stop by the pond’s edge, where Cater was standing with a large thermos.

Cater just shot you a wink, handing you the thermos. “This is for you though, silly!” 

He was deflecting, you could tell; behind that bright and cheery smile that he always seemed to wear around others, you knew when there was something off with Cater. You accepted the thermos though, and took a sip of the spicy apple cider, still piping hot.

You gave him a look and pulled lightly on his coat sleeve. “Yes, but it’s more fun with others, come on Cater!” You stepped back onto the ice, and slowly skated near him, waiting with an eager smile.

He looked at you, and then back at the ice, but he stayed standing in the light snow, shooting you that smile. “But I can’t take photos if I’m out there with you!” He scratched at the back of his neck.

Liar. “Cater,” you looped back around and stepped onto the bank, balancing on your skates, “do you not know how to skate?”

Cater’s smile turned sheepish, and his ‘ahahaha, looks like my gig is up’ chuckle made its appearance. He had been found out. “Never got the chance to,” he hid his face slightly in his scarf, either to keep the cold at bay or to hide that his cheeks were turning pink. “So I’d just slow ya down.”

You took his hand into yours, “Well, I could teach you if you wanted. Just a warning though, you’re gonna fall on your butt a lot, might get a few bruises.”

Cater looked down at your entwined hands. Mittens and gloves separated your skin from touching one another, but Cater could swear that he could feel the sensation nonetheless through the layers of fabric.

“You would? Even if I pull you down with me?” 

The last question wasn’t just about the ice skating; Cater didn’t want to force you to do anything that you didn’t want to… and that included being his friend. His heart seemed to whisper stronger emotions though, but he didn’t want to ruin what the two of you had.

You walked him out to the ice, and the both of you swiftly fell down on the ice, hard. But you just laughed and got right back up again, “Well, we did just fall. There isn’t anything scary about falling down; yes it stings and might leave a gnarly bruise, but in order to move forward we have to fall and get back up. So yes, is what I guess I’m saying.”

Cater looked up at you, the sun illuminating you and the snow glittered behind you. You were holding your hand out again, waiting for him. And Cater took your hand. 

It took him a while to get the hang of it, and he fell down quite a bit, but every time he fell down you helped him back up. And by the time that the sun was setting in the west, the both of you were cold, and both were going to wake up tomorrow with some bruises. It was fun though, which is all that mattered… but that whisper in Cater’s heart was by now singing, and maybe he would listen to it, but for now, he was happy with how the way things were, and he wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world, especially with how much you had smiled today. Your smile and knowing that you had fun with him was enough.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Tags; @eynnwwyjth, @ithseem, @krenenbaker, @silvers-numberonefan, @twistwonderlanddevotee, @xxoomiii

[superbat-love]

If the Justice League were ‘The Office’...

Superman: I want to trust Batman, I really do, but sometimes I can't help but question him, you know? Yesterday, I came home from the Daily Planet and ran into Batman outside my apartment. When I asked him what he was doing there, he claimed he was on a case looking for "evidence," then ran off. Not that I’m accusing him of anything, but… one of my undergarments has gone missing.

The camera pans out, revealing his costume conspicuously missing its iconic red underwear.

***

Batman: [holding up Superman’s red underwear sealed in a plastic evidence bag] That’s how I uncovered his big secret. How do I know for certain it’s Superman’s? Well, for one, no one else on the planet has them in this size. [glares directly at the camera] And two, you really should have kept spares if you didn’t want me to figure out who you were, Clark Kent.

[heylittleriotact]

So I can't stop sharing this after realizing it myself earlier... After Rook tells Emmerich that they're a virgin, during their dinner date, and he clearly processes what is a VERY unexpected fact to him, he tells them that's okay, and you 2 can just take things slowly. :) It's sweet, right? But also... Emmrich... how fast did YOU wanna take things? Because now this man's got me convinced he was SO down bad for Rook, he wasn't gonna waste time NOT hitting it now that they're together. I'm unwell

Okay so I actually really appreciate how ambiguous they left Rook and Emmrich's sexual relationship until the coffin scene in the third act: they wrote it such that the player could headcanon that they had an intimate relationship already leading up to that scene OR it was the first time they slept together, and I think that's AMAZING.

I headcanon that my Rook (not a virgin) and Emmrich slept together for the first time the night of the dinner date, and I think that he planned the night not with the intention of seducing Rook, but with the mindset that if they were interested in moving forward with the sexual aspect of their relationship, the privacy of the Necropolis might be a bit more relaxing that the Lighthouse. It's clear that Emmrich has pulled some strings to have the gardens roped off just for the purpose of their romantic dinner, he goes above and beyond with the meal, they have a very sweet conversation about their feelings and attraction to each other, mention previous dates (or lack of), and the whole thing ends with a fade to black.

... and I'm a romantic degenerate who sighs and stares dreamily into space while twirling my hair at the thought of them making love for the first time on a bed of soft flowers in the garden, illuminated by veilfire as wisps float lazily through the air... but I digress:

Since Emmrich trusts that Rook isn't pursuing him from a place of "charming flattery" I think he takes their new relationship incredibly seriously, and part of that is acknowledging the sexual aspect of it. He strikes me very much an actions over words kind of person (hence the charming flattery remark), and given their circumstances and what they're up against, facing danger, violence and the possibility of death on a daily basis (especially daunting for him), I feel like Emmrich would be very motivated to explore that aspect of the relationship as soon as Rook was comfortable with it.

He's also older, more experienced (even if Rook isn't a virgin), and gives off the vibe that he's extremely comfortable with sex and intimacy based on the banter he has with Davrin. I think he views physical intimacy as yet another way to express his feelings for Rook and show them how much they mean to him. This man isn't sure if they're going to see tomorrow, let alone next week: he's only got so much time to make sure that Rook knows how treasured they are, so that's going to include romantic dates, deep conversations, surprising them with thoughtful gifts, and making love as often as they can get away with it. Regardless of what comes next, he doesn't want Rook to doubt for a second how much they mean to him, but he puts the choice about sex squarely in their hands and will let them ultimately be the one who makes the call as to when they're ready to explore that.

Once their relationship begins, he appears to court Rook quite ardently, with enough enthusiasm that Harding takes notice and points out that he's been mopey and distracted lately, and goes so far as to suggest that perhaps he and Rook are taking things a little fast. Even he's aware that this is moving at quite a pace, and he's clearly worried about how other people will/might perceive that given their respective ages - he probably thinks that people think he's a dirty creepy old man: a besotted fool, but I don't think he could approach Rook any other way even if he tried.

There are no half measures with this man: once he's in, he is IN. He's not fucking playing: this isn't just a casual fling that he expects to end once this evanuris business is over. It's probably why he comes off as a bit guarded and hesitant to engage with Rook's earlier flirtations: he probably puts this amount of care, vulnerability, and passionate authenticity into ALL his romantic relationships, and has probably been hurt in the past because of it.

Anyway, this has become suuuuuper unnecessarily lengthy, but I have so many feelings about this man, and I am indeed unwell too.

[edorazzi]

Omg I've been headcanon-ing that felix is like that cause he's autistic for years it's great to see The Felix Agreste Enjoyer agreeing

(Mentor AU) Felix is so deep on the spectrum he classifies as shrimp colours!

He masks with minimal social interaction and an intimidating aura. Only Bri knows what a creature he truly is (and that's why she loves him)! 💖

[peacockrulz]

An Well Made Excuse To Post My Specific Headcanons I've Had Since The Show Came Out

[heartfullofleeches]

[internalized homophobia, suggestive text, Male Darling]

Vincent "It's not gay if I think he'd be hot as a chick" Carbone.

Vincent "It's not gay if I closed my eyes when I kissed him" Carbone.

Vincent "My room gets cold at night, it's not gay for me to want to cuddle with him." Carbone

Vincent "It's not gay if our dicks don't touch." Carbone

Vincent "He said I suck at video games so if I sucked him off then what? But, you know, in like a friend way" Carbone

Vincent "I want him to stay the night. I want him to stay with me forever." Carbone

Vincent "Should I call him?" Carbone

Vincent "My parents have been asking if I'll get married lately so naturally I should marry my guy friend to get them off my ass." Carbone

You couldn't pay me to stop posting about V in denial of his feelings for their Darling. It's one of numerous of reasons why I love writing for the bastard

"Do you love him?"

"No!- I..I don't think I do, I just-

"Can you live without him?"

"....No."

[ghost-ferry]

I imagine when N wasn’t killing the worker drones he would have lengthy conversations with inanimate objects since V & J would just insult or completely ignore N

[yameoto]

MINDRAPE! CATE DUNLAP.

synopsis; she can make you do whatever she wants. fill in the blanks. (and hey, it's not kidnapping if you walked in there and chained yourself up. right?)

✗ warnings; dark!cate, fem!reader, noncon, kidnapping, stockholm syndrome, fauxjob, strapfucking wc; 2k

IT’S not kidnapping. at least, not if you think about it. after all, sweet nothings whispered in your ear or not—at the end of the day—you’re the one who shackled yourself to a bolt-locked barstool at the ninety-ninth story of vought tower. at least, that's what cate tells you—and what cate tells you, you breathe like law.

it's okay. you don’t have to think about it. that’s not what you’re good for, anyways.

an eternity passes before she arrives. it’s torture. because while cate may be a crazy, manipulative, psycho bitch who keeps you bound to her kitchen stool almost 24/7 (with rope-burns around your ankles and wrists, to prove it), between her and boredom? the latter is more likely to kill you. so, ineffably, relief washes over you at the sound of the mechanical lock unclicking. heels clinking against marble. your mind goes a little fuzzy around the edges, too. a defense mechanism, or her own design—you don't know. will never know.

cate. cate. you hate her. you've missed her. you can’t live without her. (or, alternatively; you love her you love her you love her).

she leans down to pet your hair like you're some sort of house-pet. god. aren’t you? “untie yourself." she orders, voice, airy and familiar—and your body simply does. she likes you undone. she likes that its you doing the doing and undoing. yes, this is your fault. you brought yourself here. you did this to yourself.

even when you untie your restraints, you can't bring yourself to move. the tiles are cold against your knees.

vought lets her keep you. a plaything under surveillance is better than letting her run amok (though most of the footage she keeps for herself. she likes watching it back. likes making you watch it back, as she keeps you on her lap and fucks the brains out of your skull). as long as she keeps it clean. airtight. under lock and key.

perhaps, she took the statement too literally.

cate flounces to the couch, one leg slung gracefully over the other. she smiles, fingers beckoning you over. at your hesitance, she cocks her head, eyebrow arching warningly. she twitches her fingers, once, and it’s enough to make you squirm. "don't make me make you."

cate always speaks like that—slow, lethal. like the languid swell of blood beading from a papercut. her nails graze underside your jaw, delicate, teetering on the razor’s edge between petting your scruff or slicing your throat. effectively cowed, you crawl, keening timidly at the purred "good girl." that follows. her hand curls in your hair, deceptively gentle.

“legs, open.” her voice is like spidersilk, and even in its’ gentleness your body reacts to its steely underbelly—how it drains the will out of your body, and how it stretches your legs as wide as they might go. “sit.” there’s a beat of hesitance. the floor? the sofa? her lap? misinterpretation begets punishment, and you're so, adorably afraid. so of course, you glance back up at her, wavering, waiting for further instruction. her smile widens, head tilting, like she knows. of course she knows.

god, how precious you are. her sweet thing. can’t even think for yourself, anymore. sometimes, when cate tunes in to the thoughts swirling in your head—there's nothing. no more escape plans that might as well be scrabbling at the walls, or god forbid, droll, suicidal ideations that are more bored meanderings rather than serious attempts. all she hears, nowadays, is blissful, beautiful static.

for a brief moment, she lets you stew in your rising panic; at the near insurmountable feat of choosing something for yourself, as simple as deciding where to sit, until cate savours enough of the frantic flickering of your pupils and the delicious, furtive pound of your heartbeat until she grants you a small mercy. "the table, baby." she clarifies, tone just a smidge smug, and in an instant, you sit your plush ass against the glass coffee table. cate marvels, not for the first time, just how empty she's made that pretty little head of yours.

“take it out.” she breathes, into your ear, and the order is so familiar you don't need further clarification, hands whipping upwards to unbutton the fly of cate’s jeans. cate sinks back into the couch, hum almost playful as you struggle to pull the fabric down, with her thighs pinned against the cushions. she enjoys, watching, in silent amusement—before canting her hips upwards lazily, to help you along. allows you to peel back fabric and let the bulge packing in her crotch spring free.

your eyes widen, smacked in the jaw by hot-pink silicone. it’s larger than normal. the one that hurts. your ensuing whimper makes something hot and heavy wrench in cate’s gut. it's a shame, that you don't even know what you do to her.

"c'mon," cate's head tilts as her eyes bore into yours, arms languidly draped over the couch’s armrests. the dry tip of the dildo bobs into your mouth, your lips wrapping around it. so good, so obedient for her. "make it wet for me, baby."

the order sends a hot flush to your ears. you suck, tongue wrapping against the underside as your pretty pink porno lips glisten with your own saliva, taking her deeper and deeper, cheeks rushing with blood.

“look at you. drooling over my dick.” cate purrs, and your head jerks, downwards in its haste to obey, and you gag in the process, choking on silicone. cate laughs, and you’re all embarrassed and needy because your it’s true. your ass, squashed up humiliatingly against the glass. cunt leaking, smearing with each movement of your thighs, and there’ll be an imprint when you get up. if she lets you get up.

you’re still suckling, tip bobbing in your throat as you bite back splutters like an obedient thing, when cate’s apparently had enough. she shoves you, back flat against the glass. in doing so, the dildo slips from your mouth, and you let slip a confused, befuddled whine as your body screeches at you to take it back in. to follow that single, all-consuming command. simple creature, you. you try to sit upright, before a hand shoots around your throat. thrusts you back down, roughly, head knocking against glass.

“don’t move.” cate hisses, grasp tightening. it locks your limbs, just like that. when you fall limp, she hums, pleased, lowering herself between legs.

she kisses your inner thigh. everything in you aches to squirm, but can’t, not ever—limbs heavy with the weight of cate’s whims. her head tilts, lips jutted out in that sweet, innocuous pout as she drags up your skin. doe eyes blown wide, imploring as if she hasn't broken you, so completely and so utterly.

she dives inwards, tongue lashing up against your clit, and it hurts not to move as she peers up between your thighs. apparently, you can cry and moan as much as you want, though, and god, do you. it's purposeful. she loves to hear the noises. cate can’t smirk, not with the way her mouth is preoccupied with the hot, painful pulse of your cunt. tongue darting out and flicking in delicate licks, like a kitten lapping at milk. she doesn’t need to; the smug, knowing gleam in her eyes is gloating enough.

“mommy, please.” you gasp, like a needy little brat, hips shuddering upwards as the urge for more throbs upwards from between your legs and fuzzes your brain. cate grins in delight.

"mommy, huh?" she echoes, almost wolfish. her fingers are quick to grasp your jaw. she squeezes, angling your jaw as if inspecting a prized animal. "god. i didn't even make you say that." her eyes blaze as they scour over your body. like she’s appraising you in a new light; the way you melt, so pliant in her hands, her words. the way you mould to fit her every need without her having to lift a finger—in every sense of the word.

abruptly, her hands dig into your thighs and she orders, low and soft “flip over,” and you do. ass perked high in the air, back arched and your pussy wet with want that’s not yours, but drips obscenely from your spitsoaked folds onto the glass, like something filthy, nonetheless. cate’s breath hitches from behind, hand smoothing over the curve of your ass. briefly reverent. before her hand comes down to pinch and twist flesh, of course.

“spread yourself open,” she demands, and you can feel plastic brush against your inner thigh. obeying is almost too smooth, despite the shiver that trickles down your spine, fingers stretching your cunt open.

she slaps your cunt, hard. you cry out, clit swollen and pussy pulsing with need. “wider.” she grits, as if irritated, but you can hear the delight underneath there, as your knees bend lower, thighs spreading impossibly wider, fingers trembling with the force in which you splay yourself out, pussy glistening under the light.

god, how gorgeous you are, on display for her. her adorable little showpony. cate laughs, and you hear the snap of a phone, clicking. you open your mouth, lips reddened, bitten raw—

she shoves the dildo into your waiting cunt, and you scream.

“ah. guess i haven’t loosened you enough, yet,” cate observes as she pumps at a leisurely pace, disappointment veiling the self-satisfaction in her tone. the anguished noises you make, with each violent thrust of her hips. the way you cry out, eyes flying open, walls straining against the girth of it, stretching your stomach, thighs wobbling in the effort just to keep yourself upright.

cate forces herself in, making room you didn’t even know you had. her teeth are sharp as she nips in your ear, hips plunging in agonisingly slow motions as she pushes through your cunt's delicious, masochistic resistance. everything in you aches to writhe, to thrash, to throw yourself off this fucking table and hurl yourself down the ninety-nine storey, floor-to-ceiling windows, and yet you can’t even lift a fucking finger. a bee, drowning in its own honey.

cate almost yawns. her hand pinches the flesh of your ass. “god, this is too much work..” cate sighs, hand idly twirling a strand of your hair, and she yanks it back the same time she jams herself, inside, skin flush against skin. she grins, lazy. “mm. do it for me.”

mindlessly, you let out a hopeless whine, and then you’re fucking yourself back on cate's cock. she's not even moving. stilling to idle motionless as her hand twines in your hair, strap cinched low on her waist as your hips rock, panting with effort as you slam yourself back against plastic, again, and again. lips parted, tears a comforting burn behind glazed-over eyes. it’s not only her words compelling you. to snap your hips back with increasing ferocity, pounding yourself—deeper, and deeper. how you gasp, eyes rolling back into your skull when the tip buries itself deep enough in your tight, hot pussy to make your cum splatter against glass, knees slippery with fluid, and yet—you can’t stop, still. weakly pulsing around plastic as your hips keep moving, walls keep swallowing silicone and spitting it back out again, even as your limbs buckle with exhaustion and your cunt sears—

she’s made you into nothing. nothing but goo on her coffee table, mindless and bathing in a puddle of your own fluids.

finally, when cate’s had her view of the pretty, pathetic sight you make—she touches your shoulder, and simply says, “enough.”

you pull yourself out, slumping on the glass table, a weak thing. cate regards you, for a moment, pussy still dribbling cum, forming a pool under your thighs like melted ice cream. still, you can’t move. arms like lead, tongue lolling out—a beaten puppy.

she kisses your vacant, empty head, lips moving against skin. “tie yourself back up after i go, hm?” and then, she hops off the table.

the door clicks shut, and you tie yourself back up again. the slick dries cold between your thighs.

[krislgfox]

Gonna post them all together now cuz I'm silly

I'm bout to explode-