#headcanon | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

strawb3rry-hon3y · 2 days ago

Note

cliché but opposites attract with yeon sieun? can be a headcanon or a scenario !! whatever you want 🫶🏼 tysm

Impulse And Intellect

Pairing: Yeon Si-eun x GN!Reader Requested: Yes

Summary: A headcanon about Si-eun falling for someone who is his complete opposite.

Length: 676 Words Genre: Fluff / Light Angst

Warnings: Fluff, outgoing/impulsive reader behavior. Status: Complete!

♡. Si-eun first noticed you because you were everything he wasn’t. Loud laughter, quick emotions, and a warmth that seemed to follow you wherever you went. He didn’t understand you at first, and it lowkey annoyed him how you could just say whatever you were feeling so easily.

♡. You, on the other hand, found him fascinating. Calm, composed, and almost infuriatingly blank at times. Si-eun was like a puzzle you wanted to figure out.

♡. When you two started hanging out more (mostly because you forced yourself into his space, sitting next to him at lunch, dragging him into random conversations). Si-eun realized you weren’t just reckless, You felt everything deeply. But somehow, that didn’t make you weak; it made you strong in your own way.

♡. You love poking at Si-eun just to get any reaction out of him. Tugging his sleeves, mimicking his serious expressions, leaning way too close when he’s trying to study. Half the time he just blinks at you like "are you done yet?". But sometimes you catch the tiniest smirk before he hides it.

♡. You had no problem dragging Si-eun into chaotic adventures sneaking off-campus for snacks, last-minute study sessions that turned into you ranting about life, and even stupid bets like who could stay quiet longer, which are always his idea. (you lost every time, but he secretly liked when you talked).

♡. Speaking of, Si-eun secretly loves hearing you talk about your day, even when you ramble about random, pointless things. He won’t always respond with full sentences, but he listens so intently it makes your heart hurt a little.

♡. He doesn’t always know how to comfort you when you get upset. If you cry, Si-eun sits there awkwardly for a second before offering his hand or wordlessly pushing a snack and drink toward you. He’s trying, okay?

♡. Si-eun is the type to wordlessly fix your jacket if it’s slipping off, or move you to the inside of the sidewalk without saying anything, and press his hand lightly to your back when he feels you getting overwhelmed. No big gestures. Just quiet, constant care.

♡. He tries not to show it but seeing you upset messes him up more than anything. He’ll stay awake texting you, walking you home, or sitting quietly by your side, anything just to be there. Even if he doesn’t know what to say.

♡. You're the reason he starts carrying extra band aids or mini-med kits easy to carry. Not for himself: but for you. Because you keep scraping your knees, bumping into things, and somehow managing to get minor injuries doing the most ridiculous things.

♡. The first time he calls you "reckless," you grin and say "And you love it." without missing a beat. He looks like he’s about to argue but just sighs and looks away.

♡. Si-eun always pretends he’s not worried about you when you get yourself into stupid situations, but the way he shows up without you calling, and the quiet one or two word lectures he gives you afterward: kind of gives him away.

♡. When you’re feeling restless and impulsive, for example: "Let’s go on a midnight walk!" "Let’s dye our hair!" "Let's prank Baku!" Si-eun sighs.. but 95% of the time, he goes along with it. Quietly, Grumpily, But he’s there. Always.

♡. You once tried to teach him how to take silly selfies. He just stared at the camera like O_O the entire time. You love him for it anyway. (that exact photo became your home screen wallpaper.).

♡. He doesn’t say "I love you" first. Instead, it’s you blurting it out in the middle of a heated moment. Si-eun just blinks at you before replying in a small, quiet voice like it's the most embarrassing thing in the world: "I know. Me too.." Which is honestly more then you expected in that moment.

♡. People wonder how the two of you work so well together. What they don’t realize is that You don’t fix each other. You just make the hard days softer, the lonely days warmer, and life a little more bearable, together.

Taglist: N/A Header’s Creator: @saradika-graphics

#☾#✿#strawberrywrites #strawberryanswers #headcanon #x reader #gender neutral reader #weak hero x reader #weak hero class x reader #weak hero class 1 #weak hero class one #weak hero class two #sieun x reader #yeon sieun #yeon sieun x reader

332 notes · View notes

localwebslingers · 2 days ago

Text

| Headcanon Dump - Anesthetic on the Rocks(No Powers) |

Just like it says on the package, this is a no powers universe, which means there is no Spider-Man. Or if there is, it's not Peter Parker. As with the other posts like this, these are just the basics of information for this verse, so let's get into it!

Peter is finishing up a BA in biophysics and going to start on a PhD in the coming years at ESU. After starting to patch up the local vigilante population so regularly, he's also enrolled in and taken several general and advanced first aid classes, both through his school and some of the local hospitals offering them, and even picked up a minor in it. So far it's just a minor though.

Peter has been working at the bar for nearly three years, he's been using the back room as an unofficial clinic for two of them. He works Wednesday and Friday nights, and from nearly open to close on weekends. He lives in a single bedroom apartment between the bar and ESU campus.

The combined experience of first aid classes and working on the fly has given Peter skills similar to that of a field medic.

Working in a bar has made flirting a habit because it tips well and one Peter has slipped into without thinking about it, but it's only really serious about thirty percent of the time. It goes further than just flirting even less often than that, but he hasn't turned down a hookup now and then either. If they're offering, and he's free...

While vigilantes are the main "patients" that Peter gets, he's also patched up some of the more grey-area figures running around town. If they're helping keep people safe and standing up to those who are being a threat, he's willing to help out.

Peter has been kidnapped two times and threatened seven times due to his "patient" connections within the city. It hasn't slowed him down or stopped him.

None of the Avengers have been patched up by him, yet, Peter isn't sure if that's because they have their own connections or if those he does help out are just that tight lipped about him. If it's the latter, he's kinda flattered.

There are a handful of rules in the bar specifically for the ones coming to get patched up that Peter enforces, but the biggest one is that anyone who shows up agrees that it's neutral ground. He doesn't care who they are, how much they hate each other, or even if the multiple people who showed up are the reason they're all hurt so badly, there's no fights or attempts on lives on the property. Period. Anyone who has a problem with that can go somewhere else (if they can even make it back out the door).

A very small number of people have his home address and personal number, with the understanding that they only go to him there if it's an emergency.

His supervisor has no idea yet, his co workers do and come to get him from the counter when anyone starts banging on the back door asking for him.

#headcanon #[v: anesthetic on the rocks]

6 notes · View notes

finla2 · 2 days ago

Text

definitely

i think dumbledore was growing weed in the forbidden forest the whole time and that’s why it was forbidden. that’s also why he acts the way he does.

7K notes · View notes

nanamisgirly · 2 days ago

Note

fould we possibly get more womanizer sugu :3

this looks more like a fic than a head canon...oooops. I hope you will enjoy it !!! MWAHHHH :333 part.1

cw chubby reader, masturbation, jealous geto, reader fingers herself in front of geto while being in couple.

womanizer!geto thinks he's about to catapult that engineering major boy out of the solar system. right. now.

geto is sitting across the room, arms slung over the back of the couch, fists clenched so tight the veins in his forearms pop. his eyes are glued burning to where that poor nerd's hands are gripping your waist, pushing you back against the edge of the kitchen counter during some half-assed apartment party.

the guy's mouth is low against your ear, whispering something pathetic (he's sure of it) that makes you blush and push at his chest. but apparently not enough for him to back up completely.

womanizer!geto repeats the same sentences like a mantra “he doesn't know her. he doesn't stand a chance. it's not some pinterest-date plan he probably has in his mind that are going to make her flinch. he doesn't know how she is when her stress hits a fever pitch or when she cries over bad grades. he doesn't even know she chews her pens' cap until they're useless. he. doesn't. stand. a. chance.”

“you let him touch you like that in public?” womanizer!geto leans against the doorframe, smirking lazily, letting his voice drip with mock-casual venom—watching you read some dense academic paper, hoodie two sizes too big. he couldn't restrain himself from asking once you both got home.

you don't even look up as you say, “excuse me?” suguru shrugs, arms crossed, eyes half-lidded, heavy with something darker than amusement. “the way the prop-on-him-self-boy was holding your waist earlier. pretty bold move by the way. thought you were shy.”

you blink, slowly lowering the paper. “i am shy.” he chuckles under his breath—low and unkind. “could've fooled me. guess you get real friendly when someone finally shows you attention, huh?” your lips part in shock, jaw going slack at the nerve—the venom hiding in his fake nonchalance.

“what the fuck is that supposed to mean?” he doesn't bother answer, he just keeps looking at you—daring you to do something of it, mouth still curled in a smirk that doesn't reach his eyes. you hold his stare, mouth tight, throat dry. “if you have a problem with who i'm seeing, suguru, be a man and say it.” his jaw ticks at your words, “i don't—”

“good," your voice cuts him off, "then no problem, right?” he nods once, and pushes off the doorframe, leaving you sitting there, heat crawling up your chest and hands trembling in your lap.

what you miss to see is the way his fists clench the second he turns away. of course womanizer!geto had no problem, why would he? because his mind was spiraling at the girl he had earlier that night, lips wrapped around his cock while his mind conjured the shape of your mouth instead? because his body refused to come unless he imagined your big soft body squirming against his?

the next week womanizer!geto is sure he's going to catapult the engineering boy out of this fucking solar system. he's halfway through some miserable cafeteria lunch when he hears your friends whispering too loud few tables away. “her boyfriend said she came twice” one of them giggles. another leans in, dramatic “she told me he gave her a massage and it turned into, like…a whole thing. .” and the final bow, “she even said he was the best she ever had.” suguru's hands curl into fists under the table, knuckles popping loud enough to make heads turn.

even gojo stops yapping mid-sentence, blinking at him, but geto doesn't hear a single word. his ears are ringing too loud, blood pounding behind them like a drum. all he can think about is you, your possibly messy moans, your pretty face, your fat thighs locking someone else's waist.

it rots him from the inside out.

womanizer!geto goes home right after that and jerks off twice. back-to back. once angrily, under cold water, cursing your name like a prayer. and again, this time slower… worse…because now the image in his head is you under that stupid stem boy. your soft hips rocked by clumsy fingers, your plush thighs spread wide for a cock that doesn't deserve you. geto shouldn't be hard for that. shouldn't want to watch it like some deranged freak.

but here he is—balls aching, cock leaking in his palm—jerking himself through gritted teeth, groaning low in his chest as he imagines your soft belly rippling under the weight of another man's body. he cums with a guttural snarl, forehead slamming the cold tile, imagining your tits bouncing, your glasses sliding down your nose as you whimper for someone who isn't him.

womanizer!geto tries to fuck someone else the next night—some hot girl, tight waist, full lips, half-dressed and panting all over him. but his cock seems stubborn. dead weight in his jeans. not even a twitch. she moans against his neck, grinding her hips against him on the couch, whispering that she wants to ride him all night—

but all he can do is thinking about you.

you, in your stretched-out pajama shorts. you, soft and plush everywhere, a little roll of tummy peeking when your tanktop rides up. you, mouth parted around your pencil when you're focused.

and the next time you're all alone with womanizer!geto in your living room, a late night study session for the upcoming test, he doesn't even try to act normal at the sight of your thick dimpled thighs tucked under you. you're rambling about something, showing him your notes—unaware of the way his eyes devour you. you look so sweet. fuck, he bets you taste so sweet.

he's staring at the half-faded bruise blooming across your collarbone when your voice pulls him back, “suguru…?”

“do you moan for him?” it slips out. you freeze at the sudden question. “wha—”

“your little stem boy,” he says, eyes dark. “when he fucks you. do you moan for him?” the silence is brutal. you open your mouth, close it again, cheeks burning, “that's none of your business.”

he smirks, leans in like a viper. “you sound like you could.” mock sympathy is dripping from every word. and nastier, “if he had a better dick than, what, three inches hard? maybe you would." his eyes glint, "be honest, nerd. he never makes you come, does he?”

the slap cracks across the room, hard enough your hand stings. hard enough to whip his head to the side. his cheek blooms red, but all he does is breathe hard—cock aching, swelling mean against his zipper. your heart is pounding, shame and rage boiling under your skin as you shove your notebook off your lap and storm toward your room.

womanizer!geto probably isn't thinking with his brain anymore as he follows you to your room. he stands in your doorframe just like he did two weeks ago, except this time, his eyes are pure fire—a mix of anger and hunger.

his eyes piercing yours, challenging you. his jaw is clenched so tight it looks painful and you should scream at him to leave your room, should shove him out. . and you're about to—but when your eyes fall down to the heavy, swollen bulge in his jeans, you loose all your rationality.

“get on the bed.” the words split the air, hot and final. you blink at him, confused and furious…soaked. your eyes following his every movements as he goes to sit on your desk chair, drops into with all the lazy arrogance in the world. his hand drapes over his thigh, just inches from the thick imprint stretching his pants.

“i won't repeat myself.” the mockery is thick on his tongue. “you can hate me later. you can even hate me forever if that's what you want. but right now?” his voice drops. “right now, you're gonna listen.” something deep inside you twists—dizzying. and before you realize what you're doing, you clim onto your own bed—like some pathetic, brainless thing. you glare at him, trying to save whatever pride you have left.

geto leans back further into the chair, his fingers thumbing the thick ridge of his cock. he tips his chin. “show me.” your stomach flips. “show you…what?” you whisper, already knowing—already burning.

“don't play dump, nerdy. you're too smart for that.” his voice is syrup-thick, fingers taping against the desperate strain against his rough denim. “show me how wet you got after slapping me like a brat.” your throat closes. “no,” you breathe out, a pitiful little sound of defiance but your thighs are betraying you, pressing tighter together. geto grins, “you're already soaking through those dumb little shorts, might as well let me see the mess you made."

womanizer!geto watches like a predator trapping his prey. his chest rises, slow and deep, extremely controlled compared to the raging war breaking inside you. his hand squeezes his cock through his jeans. he licks his lips, hungry. “touch yourself for me, pretty thing. show me how desperate you are for me instead of that useless fucking loser you keep calling your boyfriend. go on. be good.”

your traitorous hand slips under your waistband. the second your fingers brush the sticky heat between your thighs, your breath shatters from your lungs. your fingers tremble as you press harder, rubbing desperate little circles into your clit. you're trying to be quiet, to pretend you have a shred of dignity left—but the wet sounds are obscene and unmistakable.

geto's groan rips through the room—raw an broken, a sound like he's been punched. “tell me, pretty girl," he rasps, “is it dripping already? just from me talking to you?” your whimper is an answer enough, high and shameful, your cheeks burn under his gaze. ”get your shorts off," he commands, voice shredded. "and the panties too. now."

your hands shake so badly it takes two tries to peel your shorts down your thick thighs. your panties stick wetly, peeling away from your messy pussy with a filthy noise. the cold air hits you, your cunt gleaming under the soft light. geto leans forward in the chair, forearms braced on his knees, his stare burning between your legs like he's trying to sear it into his skull.

you try to remain a bit more decent, and close your legs shut together. “nuh-uh." he tsks. "what you doin', pretty? keep them open for me. don't be shy. lemme see all that messy pussy you were hiding.” tears are prickling behind your eyes from how exposed you feel as your legs fall open. geto's pupils blow wide. “fuck,” he mutters, dragging a rough hand over his face. “you're leaking. that's such a mess. and all i did was talk.”

you can't speak—can't think—your whole body is shaking as you rub yourself faster, chasing some kind of release, slick noises filling the room. every tiny touch feels too much and not enough at the same time.

geto is fighting everything in him not to move from the chair, watching like a man starved, squeezing his cock hard enough to hurt. “go on, pretty.” he croons darkly "put a finger in." your fingers fumble, slipping through the wetness before finally pushing inside. your walls flutter around your own digit, too tight, too needy. he lets out a brutal, bitten-off moan, grinding his hips against his palm—matching your pace.

“stop biting your lip,” he growls, “wanna hear you, pretty.” your moans breaks free—small and shameful at first, then louder when you start fucking yourself. “that's it,” his eyes are locked between your legs, “nice and slow, sweet girl. let me see how desperate you can get for me.” it's humiliating, disgusting, how fast you're falling apart, how quickly your hips are starting to chase your own fingers, trying to fuck yourself deeper.

sweat drips down his temple, cock throbbing and leaking so much in his boxer. he shifts again, rutting his hips shamelessly against his palm—chasing friction he desperately wanted you to give him. “bet you never do this for him,” he sneers, “bet that poor stem doesn't know he packed a slutty cunt. a needy one.” you gasp, a pitiful sound.

“does he, at least, get you this wet?” his words whip across the room like a lash. “when he touches you. .” your fingers speed up frantically, thighs quivering “when he fucks you. .” his smirk is vicious as he read through you, “quiet little good girl," he drawls, stepping closer. “saving all that greedy cunt for him, hoping he'll know what to do with it.” he's on you before you can process he even got up—looming over you at the edge of the bed, huge and terrifying and perfect. one big hand cups your jaw, tilting your flushed face up to meet his. his thumb smears sweat and tears across your cheek. ”pretty thing," he hisses, voice shaking with how hard he's holding back. “all soft and sweet. spread out so nice for me.”

if you dare glanced down, you could've seen the soaked patch growing bigger. “i should be disgusted,” he whispers, “should leave your desperate little fat ass begging. sobbing for it.” he presses in closer, nose brushing yours, breath hot and heavy. “you're close, aren't you? fucking yourself stupid in front of me. can't even help it.” his forehead tips against yours. “come for me, sweetie." he murmurs, almost lovingly this time. "make a mess all over that pretty cunt. prove he's nothing.” the filthy command punches the air out of your lungs.

you cry out, loud and shameless, thighs shaking violently as your orgasm crashes over you—drenching your hand and the sheets, rinding it out belly trembling and hips bucking helplessly.

geto watches it all—breathing ragged, knuckles white against the bedspread—but he never touches you. instead, he leans down and presses a filthy, tender kiss to your sweaty forehead. his cock still twitching violently in his pants, he's never been this hard his whole life. not even when he got onto threesome with twins.

and then—still hard, still starving for you—he stands.

he leaves you there, panting, twitching, soaking the sheets. your hand sticky, your cunt fluttering around nothing. your mind a ruined mess of him and only him.

he doesn't look back.

the door clicks softly shut behind him.

you lie there, empty—knowing no one else would ever make you feel so filthy, so wanted, so his.

ᖰ⌯'▾'⌯ᖳ

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #geto headcanons #geto smut #geto x reader #jjk geto #geto suguru #geto x you #suguru smut #jujutsu kaisen suguru #getou suguru x reader #jjk smut #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk fanfic #jjk drabbles #headcanon #x female reader #x reader smut

297 notes · View notes

loki-the-silly · 2 days ago

Text

yeahh I don't like this design that much def need to work shop some more

#digital art #hermitcraft #mumbo jumbo #mumbo fanart #hc mumbo #life series #character design #hermitblr #trafficblr #wild life smp #vampire mumbo #goth mumbo #headcanon

290 notes · View notes

pukefactory · 1 day ago

Text

•☽────✧˖°˖ EVENING SCHEDULE ˖°˖✧────☾•

(COMMISSION)

★ Summary: A Compilation Of Headcanons Featuring Salesperson ENA Being Separated From The Reader As You Are Trapped In The Lonely Door

★ Commissioner: @namosaga

★ Character(s): Salesperson ENA (ENA: Dream BBQ)

★ Genre: Headcanons, SFW

★ Warning(s): None - Completely Safe!

★ Image Credits: @JoelG

The respawn hits like a headache. Not the polite kind, either—no, this one’s jagged and cold and lonely in all the wrong places. ENA blinks back into the Hub, blinking and blinking until her triangle pupils shake from the strain. Something’s wrong. Something’s missing. “Where’s my associate?” she demands, red-side first, voice a silken pitch of mock-customer service panic. “Where’s my contractual companion? My deal-partner, my emergency exit buddy?” Froggy doesn’t even glance up from the clipboard. “Back already, huh? Good. Got another job for you. Big smoke issue. Very urgent. Big big fog. Go do the thing.” “No. No no no—I felt them behind me! I grabbed their hand—!” Meanie side takes over mid-sentence, volume flaring into a banshee scream. “WHERE IS THE BATHROOM BASTARD!? DID THEY GET SUCKED BACK IN!?” Froggy snorts. “Probably stuck in the Lonely Door. That’s what happens when you hesitate.” “You call this hesitation?! I TRUSTED the algorithm!” ENA screeches, arms flailing as her shadow elongates weirdly behind her, puppet-like, cartoon loops of panic glitching around her legs. “SEND ME BACK IN!!” “It’s a one-way valve, you neon ferret. Can’t un-flush a dimension.” But ENA is already pacing in figure-eights, her red side babbling like a hotline agent mid-breakdown. “We must file an appeal. Get a Genie. Get a mannequin. Get GØD. We cannot leave them. They are still in there. With it. With that. They’ll be all… cracked.” Froggy mutters something about caffeine and overtime, but it barely registers. ENA’s claws dig into her temples, yellow side twitching, blinking, muttering: “I didn’t mean to leave them. I didn’t mean to. This wasn’t in the pitch deck…” Even for a Salesperson, some deals hurt too much to walk away from.

☆ The Door doesn’t swing shut—it clenches. Clenches its thin muscles like the mouth of something divine and bored. ENA’s voice flattens into a hum, just shy of hopeful. “Let’s conclude this endeavor, shall we?” she offers with a tilt of her head, but her eyes don’t match. Her pupils are missing again. You don’t have time to ask where they went. Your legs are cubes now. You can feel the vertices.

☆ It begins like static in the bloodstream. You blink and your hand is a jpeg of a hand. ENA turns toward you and grins—Salesperson, all customer service and plastic cheer. “Not to worry, asset decay is standard in unscheduled transitions. Just think of it as… modular.” You try to scream. It renders as a corrupted flute trill.

☆ “YOU LOOK RIDICULOUS,” Meanie blurts, voice warping, lips out of sync. “FIX YOUR STUPID BODY ALREADY—WHAT ARE YOU, A YOUTUBE THUMBNAIL?!” It’s the closest thing to a plea she can muster. ENA is glitching too. Her torso duplicates and overlaps, one frame behind the other. She stumbles when she laughs. You see her blood is orange now. No—it’s loading.

☆ The hallway outside the Door is collapsing like an unraveling .zip file. Textureless walls crumbling and folding underneath itself. ENA’s hat drifts past you, and she doesn’t notice. Or maybe she left it behind on purpose.

☆ “You go ahead, I’ll catch up,” ENA says. But she says it while stepping backward, smiling with the kind of smile that doesn’t want to be watched fall apart. You beg her not to leave. She shrugs. “It’s not abandonment. It’s automation. You’re simply stuck in the wrong instance.” Her voice cracks. She was never meant to stay.

☆ You watch your own mouth vanish. There’s no time to panic before ENA—not the one you knew, but the mannequin she’s puppeting—shudders to life in the main world, glitching and sputtering before she’s finally cut free of her binds. Froggy, grumpy as ever, berates her: “Quit being so unprofessional, people will get the wrong idea! What even happened?!” ENA doesn’t answer. Her eyes are looking at something else. Something behind Froggy.

☆ In the Door’s fading echo, you hear the sound of typing. Dozens of voices speaking in code. “If statement. Boolean value. Body = NULL.” ENA tried to hold them together, but she was losing cohesion. Her model couldn’t keep up. Her limbs lagged in and out of place. You then realized—too late—that she was never supposed to bring you this far. And she never expected this outcome.

☆ As Froggy chews her out, ENA’s head tilts and she whispers: “There’s something still inside. I left them. I had to. I didn’t want to be unmade.” She wrings her mitt-shaped hand with her clawed one. “You’re mad, right? I should’ve stayed?” Her voice warps with guilt, skipping like a scratched DVD. Froggy stares. Then mutters: “…You’re not even here.”

☆ In the Door’s final light, you see ENA one last time. Not as a whole, not even as halves. But as shards. Her voices no longer alternate—they collide. “I’ll save you—” “NO I WON’T—” “What’s your pain point—” “SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP—” The Door slams its fleshy arms shut like a final period on a sentence never proofread. Silence echoes like a scream with nowhere to go.

☆ Back in the hub, the casino gleams. Froggy stamps forms. Business resumes. But sometimes, the lights flicker. ENA’s body twitches. She grins and spins her cap. “You look like someone with a lot of unresolved data.” she says to herself. You’re not coming back. But ENA watches the Door anyway. Because maybe. Just maybe. The save file is still corrupt, but not deleted.

270 notes · View notes