#nonverbal nines

[silvercrane14]

now that im thinmign about it. Did Iyo say a single thing this chapter. I swear to god he didnt

#nonverbal king #crane screams #ndbp #nine dragons' ball parade #kowloons ball parade #horaguchi iyo

[piplupod]

thank god i don't have to have my camera on for this class very often bc i am absolutely fuming and literally tearing up bc i am so upset and angry at these education resources for this stupid fucking class, it's about "self management" and "office etiquette" and theyre just so fucking shitty and stupid and awful. like. really fucking ableist and i know that's obvious but jesus christ. it's all such bullshit. i hate offices so much.

#let me just strip you of every ounce of personality and individuality so you become our perfect little drone!!! #no need for emotions here! if someone is being negative to you - just ignore it! don't be upset about it :) #make sure you make eye contact and read nonverbal cues! everyone can do that sooooo easily! shouldnt be a problem for our drones! #any body modifications relevant to your culture! cover those up! once again - zero individuality is allowed here! #you have to be the human personification of the colour white :) no no not beige. that's too racially significant! we must ALL be white :) #but we LOOOOVE diversity here and celebrate it! just as long as you are NT cishet white and boring :) #i'm so . fucking angry fhsdgdsgjkl nothing makes me upset faster than office etiquette bullshit fsdjgjkl #i want to leave class for the day so bad so i can go cry #i've already gotten today's assignment done anyways lol i finished it off before class even started #but. gotta keep up appearances. im trying to stay a day head #*a day ahead #but fhsdgjkl tomorrow's is the really shitty ableist assignments so fuck me i guess #i need to just dissociate hardcore and let my brain go into society drone-mode but god. it is very upsetting to do that #but this work needs to be done fhsdghsdghjkl fucking hell it is literally upsetting and potentially triggering to do this shit #because this like. relates back to some specific trauma and abuse i've gone through lmfao. #i wish i'd stayed dormant longer jsdjfkl #Nine would've hated this and Cal would've been upset but i think they'd be able to do it better than i can #especially Nine because he gets so angry JFSDFJKL he just powers through it so it gets done faster #okay im being embarrassing now sorry fsdfkl i will shut up and go attempt to work on this bullshit #pippen needs 2nd breakfast

[stllmnstr]

easy mode — a lee heeseung drabble

pairing: lee heeseung x f reader

genre: brother’s best friend au

word count: 2.5k

warnings: swearing, alcohol consumption, jealousy, (brief, non descriptive) vomit mention, veeeeery suggestive (but no explicit content/smut), sorry feminism I let heeseung win this round

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Lee Heeseung likes to do things the easy way. 

It’s not that he’s lazy, just... efficient. A fan of the path of least resistance. He knows how to pick his battles and does so sparingly. 

Heeseung minds his own business, keeps his eyes on the path in front of him and rarely lets them stray. And he definitely, definitely never pokes his nose into other people’s problems. 

It’s a philosophy that keeps his head on straight, that allows his friendships to remain low-maintenance and sans drama. It’s what’s kept Jay at his side for the last fifteen years, even through the trials and tribulations of elementary school playground altercations, puberty-fueled fights in the middle school locker room, and most recently, the frustrating misalignment of their post-graduation work schedules. 

Four years ago, Heeseung thought a bachelor’s degree would be his ticket to success, not a soul-sucking nine-to-five that leaves him itching for a drink or three most Friday nights. Luckily for him, Jay’s in the same boat. 

But tonight, sitting next to his best friend on his favorite slightly wobbly bar stool, Heeseung almost misses the monotony of their usual Friday evening happy hours. 

He’s nursing his third beer, which would usually go down like cold water, even though time and tipsiness have turned it lukewarm. Tonight, though, Heeseung’s eyes keep wandering towards the same corner table just over Jay’s shoulder. 

And every time they do, the muscle in his jaw strains a little further. The beer on his tongue tastes a little more bitter. 

Heeseung hates making things complicated. He doesn’t get involved. He doesn’t. But–

“Are you gonna do something about that?”

On the adjacent bar stool, Jay glances at Heeseung. “About what?” 

Heeseung just keeps his eyes trained on that table, that spot over Jay’s shoulder. 

Picking up on the hint even through the pleasant haze in his mind, Jay turns his gaze to follow Heeseung’s nonverbal cue. It takes him only a matter of seconds to locate what has his best friend in such a mood. Or rather, who. Although Jay isn’t quite sure why. 

He’s digging for clarification when he looks back at his friend. “What do you mean? Did she do something weird?” It wouldn’t be exactly unlike his younger sister to do something slightly embarrassing in public. 

Heeseung’s jaw just tightens further, betraying his annoyance. Finally, he puts words to his irritation, saves Jay from his suspense. “You’re gonna let that idiot put his hands all over your little sister in the middle of the bar?”

Jay frowns, turns over his shoulder once again to make sure he isn’t seeing things. He’s not. From this angle, at least, Sunghoon’s hands are at a perfectly respectable distance from you. Not that Jay could do much about it either way. 

He tells Heeseung as much. “What am I supposed to do? Drag her out by her ear and force her to join a convent? Ship her off to a girls only boarding school?” Jay laughs humorlessly. He’s not exactly thrilled that you and your friends chose to patronize the same bar as him and Heeseung tonight, but he doesn’t want to linger on it either. In fact, he doesn’t want to do anything but forget his woes this evening, drown his sorrows in overpriced pints of whatever’s on tap. He’s perfectly happy with his back turned towards you. Out of sigh, out of mind and all that. “She’s twenty-two.”

And that wasn’t what Heeseung was suggesting exactly, but now that Jay mentions it…

“You’re okay with Park trying to play tonsil tennis with her then?”

“Dude,” Jay winces, setting his beer down on the bar, stomach suddenly queasy. “Gross. That’s still my little sister.”

Which is exactly the card Heeseung is hoping he’ll play. But all Jay does is sigh. If Heeseung didn’t know better, he’d think the exasperation was directed at him instead of the loser he’s pretty sure is currently trying to make himself Jay’s future brother-in-law. 

Jay checks over his shoulder one final time for good measure. It confirms whatever he’s looking for. Mostly the fact that Park Sunghoon’s lips are too busy cracking mediocre jokes to be making sloppy passes at his sister in public. 

Hoping to put it to rest once and for all, at least for tonight, he turns back to Heeseung. “Besides, it’s Sunghoon,” Jay reasons. He finds it in himself to reach for his beer again. “She’s known him since preschool. He’s practically like a second brother to her.” Jay takes a sip, misreading the rise in Heeseung’s agitation as familial affection. Trying to soothe it over, he concedes with a nod, “Or third, I guess. I’ll let you be her second.”

Like always, Heeseung lets it go. Goes with the flow, at least on the outside. 

But even if he weren’t so committed to never rocking the boat, this is hardly the time or place to correct Jay’s assumptions that his feelings towards you are anything but brotherly. That, he decides, will have to be a revelation for another time. Preferably in a situation where Heeseung is well out of arm’s reach and Jay is in restraints of some sort. 

Those, after all, are the only circumstances in which he could ever disclose just how decidedly not brotherly his feelings towards you are. 

In fact, they’re a lot more aligned with that stupid game you used to make him play as kids. The one where you put on the white dress you’d gotten from your cousin as a hand-me-down, an assortment of grape juice, finger paint, and pasta sauce stains scattered along the hemline. The one where you’d gather a bunch of dandelions from your overgrown backyard and call them a beautiful bouquet. The one where you’d live out all your grandest six-year-old dreams of walking down the aisle towards a handsome prince with the latest Kidz Bop rendition of whatever love song was most popular on the radio setting the mood in the back. 

The one where you’d drag Heeseung away from the player number two console, much to Jay’s unending annoyance, and force him to play the part of your groom. Even at six, you were a force to be reckoned with. An argument-winning fiend that even your older brother could rarely best in a fight. 

Heeseung played along, more than anything, because he was scared to face your wrath if he declined. But he’d be lying if he said his heart didn’t feel a little funny in his chest every time he watched you walk down a makeshift aisle made with your mother’s missing tablecloth. 

And Heeseung doesn’t give a shit how long you’ve known Sunghoon. After all, what does Sunghoon know about your childhood dream to get married in a garden full of roses? Judging from the way it looks like he keeps trying to get you to try his drink, he doesn't even know you can’t stand the taste of Coke mixed with liquor. 

But Heeseung knows. He was there the night you developed the aversion. The night you decided bottom shelf tequila and the soda you snuck from your parent’s fridge were your best friends for the evening after junior prom. The night he held your hair as it came back up a few hours later. 

And he was there for the rest of it, too. All the little moments, the big moments, and everything in between that spun the tapestry of your formative years. The day you finally got your braces off and didn’t stop smiling for three weeks straight. The time you sprained your ankle trying to hide Jay’s favorite pair of sneakers in the alarmingly tall tree in your backyard. The night you cried for four hours straight when you found out Jake Sim from biology was a big, fat, liar that was indeed texting other girls for homework answers. 

There may have been moments, tangled up in that swirling mix of memories, when Heeseung felt nothing but a brotherly sort of affection for you. A desire to protect you from the world and a distinct sort of pride when he inevitably failed and you rose to the challenge anyway. 

But Heeseung also remembers what it felt like to stand across from you as you recited your six-year-old brain’s attempt at recreating marriage vows, and he thinks he never really stood a chance. 

Glancing over Jay’s shoulder again, Heeseung watches as you lean a little further into Sunghoon, straining to hear him over the cacophony in the bar. And the anger he feels in his gut is not brotherly in the slightest. Nor is the red, hot, scalding jealousy that burns his throat every time he forces himself to swallow it down. 

Searching for a distraction, he busies himself with his beer once again, lets Jay’s unwanted evaluations fall to the wayside for the time being. Immersed in the dregs of his own despair, he almost misses it. The flash of movement as you slide out from your seat next to Sunghoon. 

Heeseung mumbles some excuse about needing to go to the bathroom that Jay only partially hears before he’s stepping off of his bar stool, beer forgotten on the counter behind him. 

Your footsteps are easy to follow as he traces the predictable path you forge to the opposite corner of the bar. Heeseung’s bathroom excuse was a good one, he’s pleased to discover, once he realizes that’s precisely where he’ll be meeting you. 

The line is long, but it moves quickly. Only a handful of minutes have passed when you emerge again. This time, Heeseung doesn’t hesitate, doesn’t give you the chance to walk back and make him watch you from a distance for the rest of the evening. 

Instead, he wraps the skin of your wrist in long, precise fingers, drags you to the adjacent hallway where it’s empty, quiet. Secluded. Away from any wandering eyes or unwanted ears. 

Any protests of yours are overtaken by surprise, and by the time you finally find them again, they’re replaced by questions. 

Heeseung may be a captain of a steady ship, a firm believer in the merits of smooth sailing, but he’s never been able to resist the urge of liminal spaces like these. Moments with enough plausible deniability that Jay won’t have a reason to give him a bloody nose or threaten his life if he so much as looks at his little sister again. Exchanges that he hopes will linger with you long after the two of you have parted ways. 

Desire for ambiguity aside, the position he puts you in is compromising no matter how you spin it. Your back against the wall, and Heeseung leans over you, cages you in like he’s after something other than your answers, something more. But the gap between your bodies is deliberate, a way for him to backtrack if the situation calls for it, an out if he needs it. 

Your wrist is still in his grip, light but demanding, when he finally says, “Park Sunghoon? Really?”

“What?” You hope you can blame the obvious breathlessness in your voice on shock. “What are you–?”

Heeseung won’t leave you wondering for long. “You think he can handle you?” With the way you’re wrapped up in Heeseung’s hold, the challenge, the comparison is apparent. 

Your shock morphs. Hardens. “Handle me? Am I a wild animal? I don’t need to be han–”

And, oh, this is Heeseung’s favorite kind of tightrope. His very best balancing act. He loves it, thrives on it, revels in it. This exchange of heated words that never go anyway but to your head. He hopes you’re seeing fucking stars. 

Heeseung leans an inch closer. He’s breaching dangerous territory. He’ll blame it on the alcohol if he has to. Glancing at your eyes, holding your gaze, he doesn’t think he will. 

“Who said anything about you needing it?” He’s so close you feel his breath on your cheekbone, ghosting across your temple. “I’m talking about what you want.”

Something unreadable flickers through your gaze before you’re masking it with contempt. As if Heeseung is nothing but a pest, a fly to swat at until it stops buzzing. “Awful presumptuous, don’t you think?”

Heeseung only grins. “I don’t know.” He leans in closer. “There are a few ways we could find out, though.”

If your breath stutters, you’ll disguise it as a scoff. “Pray tell.”

“Sorry, sweetheart,” Heeseung inclines his head in a mockery of an apology. For a moment, he lets his eyes do what they want. You feel the heat they track in their path from your nose to your chin back up to your molten gaze. “I’d rather show you, and I don’t think I can do any of the things I want in public.”

You hate the way he does this. The way he never says what he means. The way he skirts around things with such heavy footsteps but still leaves you feeling foolish for drawing obvious conclusions. The way your heartbeat stutters regardless. But tonight, you’ll hold firm. If he wants anything from you, he’ll have to spell it out. “What are you saying?”

Heeseung is as evasive as always. “I’m saying that Sunghoon’s too nice for you.” There’s a hard edge in his eyes when he adds, “You’ll eat him alive and still be begging for more.”

Fine. If he wants to play games, then you’ll roll the dice too. Make scathing comments and heated taunts with whatever numbers you land on. This time, it’s you that leans in. “Should I make sure to find you, then? When I’m all done with him?”

You can’t tell if he’s furious or the most delighted you’ve ever seen him. “Careful,” Heeseung breathes. “That’s a dangerous game you’re playing at.”

“I’m not playing at anything.” It’s a blatant lie, but you’ve become well acquainted with denial, too. Picked up a few tricks from the ringleader himself. “You’re the one that dragged me here and started demanding that I ditch my friend.”

Heeseung smiles as if you serve no purpose but to amuse him. “You let all your friends look at you like that?”

“Only the ones I really like.”

But now you’re under his skin. “Careful,” he repeats, even lower this time. “I’m not as nice as him.”

You won’t heed any warnings, and especially not ones given from him. He’s all talk. All bark and no bite. You almost wish he would bare teeth, just once. “What are you gonna do?” Unblinking, you hold his gaze. “Handle me?”

A blurred line dissolves completely. Heeseung’s resolve slips, just a fraction. “Is that an invitation?”

“A challenge,” you correct, sliding out of his grasp, maneuvering away from his hold. This time, he has no choice but to turn as you begin to back away, to let his eyes follow your lead. 

After his misstep, the results of this game are under your sole control. You have choices, ones that leave him in the dust and ones that put a trophy in his wandering hands. In the end, you discard it all. You have only one final demand for him. It’s a whisper that’s barely audible, “Rise to it.”

Heeseung doesn’t need to hear it twice.

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note: I was having serious heeseung brother's best friend brainrot on my friday evening and decided to make it everyone's problem. (you're welcome/I'm sorry). and thanks for reading! thoughts, comments, tags, reblogs, and screaming are appreciated as always <3

#enhypen x reader #enhypen x you #enhypen fanfic #enhypen fanfiction #enhypen scenarios #lee heesung x reader #lee heeseung x you #heeseung x you #heeseung x reader #heeseung fic #heeseung fanfic #heeseung drabble

[imagines--galore]

||Masterlist||

Please read rules before sending requests.

REQUESTS ARE CLOSED FOR THE MOMENT.

(Always Uploading new Fics)

Avatar The Last Airbender

Pairing: Zuko x Orora

The Thread of Fate - Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five, Part Six, Part Seven, Part Eight, Part Nine, Part Ten, Part Eleven, Part Twelve, Part Thirteen, Part Fourteen, Part Fifteen, Part Sixteen, Part Seventeen, Part Eighteen

Pairing: Zuko x Reader

It Was Nothing

Theatrics

I’m Here Beside You

Big Hero 6

Pairing: Tadashi Hamada x Sakura Kamiya

Light 'em Up -  Prologue, Chapter One, Chapter Two, Chapter Three, 

Criminal Minds

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Evelyn Richardson

Mind Over Matter - Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five, Part Six, Part Seven, Part Eight, Part Nine, Part Ten, Part Eleven, Part Twelve, Part Thirteen, Part Fourteen, Part Fifteen, Part Sixteen,

(Companion piece to Mind Over Matter)

A Slight Frustration

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Hold Me Closer

First Kiss

Don’t Go!

Crossover - Frozen x Rise of the Guardians

Pairing: Jack Frost x Elsa (Jelsa)

One Step Closer - Part One, Part Two (InProgress)

Digimon

Pairing: Taichi Yagami x Hidemi Senshi

The Next Adventure

Fullmetal Alchemist Brotherhood

Pairing: Alphonse Elric x Willow Hawkeye(OC)

The Ties That Bind - Prologue, Part One,

Pairing: Edward Elric x Reader

Homecoming

The Language of Flowers

Pairing: Roy Mustang x Reader

I Will Always Choose You

Harry Potter

Pairing: Severus Snape x Reader

Reluctant Friendship

Justice League DC Universe

Pairing: Superman x Lucky Penny aka Clark Kent x Penelope Pennyworth

Lucky Break

Pairing: Superman aka Clark Kent x Reader

Part One - Convince Me, Part Two - I’m Convinced

Wedding Drama

Pairing: (Platonic) Superman aka Clark Kent x 12-year-old reader

A New Life

Marvel Cinematic Universe

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Rachel

Kiss It Away

Stolen Kisses, Stolen Moments - Part One, Part Two

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Confessions

Last Night

Empowering

Distraction

Pairing: Dr. Stephen Strange x Clea

Love, A Kind of Magic - Part One, Part Two

Pairing: Dr. Stephen Strange x Reader

Bleeding Love

Perfection

A Surprising Twist

Sleep Deprived

What the Wife Says Goes

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Nothing But a Burden

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

A Pact Renewed

Because You’re Mine

Not a Waste of Space

Just Hold Me

Pairing: Loki x Reader

Never Leave Me

Pirates of the Caribbean

Pairing: Will Turner x Reader

My Heart Calls Your Name

Tavern Brawls

Rise of the Guardians

Pairing: Jack Frost x Evening Star aka The Blue Fairy

Two Spirits Meet - Wishing on a Snowflake I,

Sherlock (BBC)

Pairing: Sherlock x Reader

Serendipity

The Consulting Detective and the Serial Killer

His Love for Her

Your Hand in Mine

Drunken Comfort

Its All Been Arranged

An Unconventional Love Story (Victorian Era AU)

Star Trek(2009)

Pairing: Spock x Kealoha

The Roommate Experiment - Prologue, Part One

Pairing: Spock x Reader

The Little Green Monster

Chasing Away The Darkness

Here For You (InProgress)

Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles

Pairing: Leonardo x Amal

Heaven’s Light

A Comforting Embrace

The Amazing Spiderman

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

A Nonverbal Confession

Falling For Him

Heal Together

Drunk on Pheromones

Take All The Time You Need

Falling for the Enemy

The Chronicles of Narnia

Pairing: Peter Pevensie x Reader

An Unexpected Turn

We Face It Together

Pairing: Edmund Pevensie x Reader

The King and the Commoner

The Hobbit

Creepy Crawlies (No Pairing)

Pairing: Kili x Reader

You Are Safe

The Lord of the Rings

Pairing: Legolas x Annúneth

Love Happens(Coming Soon)

Pairing: Legolas x Reader

We Meet Again A Confession Years In The Making

My Prayer, My Light, My Fëa

A Little Introduction to Rock Music

A Promise

Written In The Stars

Treasure Planet

Pairing: Jim Hawkins x Reader

A Little Competition Goes a Long Way

#zuko x reader #steve rogers x reader #bucky x reader #geralt x reader #peter pevensie x reader #peter parker x reader #tasm! peter parker x reader #legolas x reader #kili x reader #fili x reader #thorin x reader #spock x reader #dr. strange x reader #jim kirk x reader #bones x reader #leonardo x reader #sherlock x reader #edward elric x reader #clark kent x reader #spencer reid x reader #alphonse elric x reader #taichi yagami x reader #alucard x reader #trevor belmont x reader #Vax x reader #percy x reader #harry potter x reader #will turner x reader #eragon x reader #tadashi x reader

[frenchfrywrites]

CODE y69

MINORS DNI

Warnings: amab gn top dom(ish) living human reader, trans man bottom zombie Vil Schoenheit, monster(fucker) au, monsterfucking, medical play, roleplay, breeding kink, lots of drool, vil goes nonverbal, slight dumbification

Words used for Vil: pussy, cunt, tits, hole, clit. Mention of him having a period and getting pregnant

The sound of the door to Vil's bedroom opening softly tears his attention away from his vanity.

"Ah, sorry," he stares through the mirror at his door, where the doctor– he gathers from the white coat and stethoscope– he arranged a house visit with stands awkwardly in the doorway. "Am I interrupting something?" You ask, setting down your bag of medical devices and instruments on Vil’s bed.

"No," he’s quick to answer, capping the tube of lipstick he'd been applying and standing to greet you. Both of you size one another up as Vil sluggishly crosses the room. You’re handsome in the long white lab coat, undoubtedly so, and if he had the blood to do so, Vil thinks he might feel flushed. The mild anxiety he typically finds himself having when he’s among the living settles in, and he feels the urge to preen and reapply his makeup.  

The two of you exchange introductions, and Vil notes that your hand feels so nice and warm when it shakes his, before you ask him to make himself comfortable on his bed. Vil sits himself down as gracefully as possible as you open your bag “I almost thought I had the wrong patient,” you offer him a bashful smile, applying hand sanitizer to your hands, then tugging on some gloves. “You looked so alive,” and your admission earns you a soft laugh from Vil. 

“Thank you,” he mumbles quietly. After his untimely demise Vil's tried his best to cover his dead skin, the chunks of missing flesh, and his vacant eyes. He appreciates his efforts being recognized. 

“Alright, let’s just jump right in, yeah?!” you give him a wide smile, “can you tell me your first and last name? And your date of birth?” Vil tells you the information easily. “And when did you become undead?”

“A couple of months ago,” he hopes you don’t pry much more than that. It’s not something he likes to dwell on.

“Great! Do you remember the last physical you had when you were alive?” you ask carefully, rummaging around in your bag.

Vil doesn’t remember much from before his death. He has people he knows- or knew- tell him things about himself, but most of what they tell him feels blurry and out of reach.

“It’s okay if you don’t,” you say when he hasn’t responded in a while. He hums- and it sounds a bit too close to the sluggish groan he’s heard from older zombies for his liking- and anxiously flattens the wrinkles on his skirt. 

“This will be a bit different from an exam that an alive person might experience, but that’s why you called me in the first place,” you ramble as you put on a pair of gloves. 

“I’m going to skip over taking your blood pressure and checking your heart, for obvious reasons,” you tell him, standing next to where he’s seated. Suddenly, you press yourself into Vil’s personal space, 

“Can I touch you Mr. Schoenheit?” and logically Vil knows his heart has stopped beating for a long time, but he feels like it flutters in his chest all the same.

“Yes,” he consents, trying his best to not sound breathless. You take his head in your hands, feeling around his skull. 

“You have lovely hair Mr. Schoenheit,” it’s an offhand comment, but it makes Vil feel like he’s on cloud nine. 

“Thank you,” he practically whispers as you gently touch the back of his neck. 

“Good,” you step back and Vil tries not to follow your touch, “looking great! I’m going to ask you to make some facial expressions with me now, so I can see how your muscles are working.”

Vil nods, folding his hands in his lap. 

“Could you frown for me?” he does as he’s told, “then smile? Then puff your cheeks?” distantly, Vil remembers that people have told him he was in movies when he was alive; a memory of acting exercises comes back to him faintly as he moves his face through various expressions.

“Hm, I can see that the muscles on the right side of your face are still quite stiff,” Vil’s face falls at the news, “hey, it’s alright!” you caress his right cheek gently, massaging the muscle by his jaw gently. Even though your hand is gloved, Vil can still feel the heat radiating off your flesh all the same. He feels hungry. “Anyone who is not specifically looking for it would not notice, I promise,” you reassure. “Now can you open your mouth for me?” 

Vil drops his jaw and it cracks a bit, leaving his mouth open just a bit wider than a living being would be capable of. That’s not true, he corrects himself, knowing that the naga can open their mouths nearly twice as more as he can. 

“Oh Mr. Schoenheit what lovely teeth you have!” you joke, and despite himself, Vil laughs. “Seriously, you have a full set! Many of my clients would dream of having your mouth,” you muse, running your fingers along his teeth. The urge to wrap his lips around your fingers and suck is overwhelming, but somehow Vil finds it in himself to resist it. He thinks you must be a little stupid, even if you are a doctor, for putting your fingers in a flesh-eaters mouth. Slipping your fingers from his mouth you reach into your bag and grab a wooden depressor. 

With your free hand you grab a small flashlight from your breast pocket, and press the wooden stick against his tongue. 

“Say ahhh,” you instruct. The noise that comes out of Vil is closer to that of a moan, but you don’t comment on that. You press the depressor further back and he gags. With a look of surprise you pull away from him, removing the depressor from his mouth as you do. 

“Sorry, did that hurt?” you ask curiously. He clears his throat, trying to regain his composure. 

“It wasn’t so bad,” he confesses. Your eyes widen just a fraction, but Vil takes note of it. Turning back to your bag you take out an otoscope, “We’re going to check your eyes and ears next, you haven’t noticed any vision or hearing loss, have you?” Vil shakes his head, thankful that so much of his body continues to function.

“Can you look at…” you trail off, glancing behind you at his wall, “the calendar back there for me?” He looks at it as you flash the light into his eyes. “Ah, are you wearing contacts?” you ask after a moment. Vil hesitates to answer, but eventually nods, “I’m sorry Mr. Schoenheit, but I need you to take those out.”

With a sigh Vil makes quick work of removing the colored contacts- or as quick as he can be with the body he inhabits now. Trying his best not to pout he lets you take a good look at his glossed over, foggy eyes. 

“You’ve got very pretty eyes Mr. Schoenheit,” you say as you pull away, “pretty and they're doing everything that eyes should be doing!” Vil huffs, 

“Flattery will get you everywhere doctor.” You manuver Vil's head so you can look into his ear, brushing his hair back to get a better look and further exposing his expression. 

“I’m already alone in your room with you Mr. Schoenheit,” you whisper, moving to look at the other ear, “how much more will flattery get me?” you muse. Vil is so glad his body can no longer blush, because he thinks he’d be as red as a tomato if he were living. 

“Ah,” he goes to say something but before he can come up with anything, you’re moving onto the next thing. Feeling a little dumbstruck he watches you take off the stethoscope around your neck, and put it on. 

“I’m going to take a listen to your lungs now, is that alright?” Vil nods, so you continue. “Would you please lift your shirt a bit?” With slightly shaking hands (the excitement of having you so close is having an apparent effect on him) he lifts his blouse for you. Sliding your hand under the fabric, you press the cold metal to his chest, and Vil gasps. 

“Sorry,” you whisper in his ear, not sounding very apologetic. “Can you take a deep breath for me?” Vil does his best, trying to sound relaxed and calm, even when he feels the opposite. “Sounds good!” and within a blink of an eye you’re gone. 

After stuffing away your stethoscope you turn to Vil, “right, so next we’re going to- oh,” you stop mid sentence, staring at his chest. Vil looks down, trying to see what you could be looking at, only to find that his nipples are hard. Shame washes over him, and he tries his best to cover himself, but you stop him, sitting next to him on the bed.

“It’s okay! I’m sorry I had such an unprofessional reaction, it’s just I don’t see that often with my patients,” you rub his shoulder comfortingly and Vil slowly drops his arms. 

“Can I take a look?” You ask after a moment. Vil tucks his hair behind his ear, nodding slowly. Your hand falls from Vil’s shoulder to the hem of his shirt. As you tug it upwards you expose more of his skin. 

There are small patches of decay, some skin that’s been stitched back together, and on his left side some of his ribs are exposed. With your other hand you thumb over one of his nipples, and Vil lets out a soft gasp. He feels so good having you touch him that any insecurity he’d normally have about the rotting, peeling flesh previously covered by his shirt is flung out the window.

“Did that hurt?” and Vil feels tingly all over at the quiet rumbling sound of your voice.

“No doctor,” he breathes, his breath hitching when you rub your thumb over it again. 

“Feels good, Mr. Schoenheit?” you check, not giving Vil any relief as you continue to rub circles around his nipple.  

Not trusting his voice, Vil nods, blinking slowly as waves of pleasure work their way through his body. 

And as quickly as it started, it’s over. You pull back, and much to Vil’s humiliation, he can’t help but lean forward and try to chase your touch. 

“Ah,” he makes a soft noise as his brain catches up. Part of him wishes to beg for more, but his pride stops him.

“Are you having other reactions, Mr. Schoenheit?” you ask softly. Vil rubs his legs together as he focuses,

“Yes doctor,” he answers honestly. Your smile widens at that,

“Amazing,” you praise, “can I see?” Vil lets out a low groan at that. Instead of using his words, Vil takes the hem of his skirt, and lifts it so you can see his soaked panties. Vil can’t help but grin when your warm touch returns to his chilled body as you gently run your fingers from his clit to his hole. 

“Such a responsive, functional body,” you hum in his ear, and Vil clumsily jerks his hips into your touch, clutching desperately at his skirt. 

“May I take a closer look Mr. Schoenheit?” 

“Yes please, doctor,” Vil moans, his words slurring together. You slide off the bed, and between Vil’s decayed thighs. Your hands tug at the top of his panties, and with some combined effort, the two of you manage to take them off him. 

“Oh look at you,” you coo, using two gloved fingers to peel apart his pussy lips. The heat from your body, even with a layer of gloves between the two of you, feels scalding against his frigid skin. It makes him want to melt into you. He clutches tightly at the fabric of his skirt, putting all his energy there so he doesn’t reach out to touch you. 

"Ah," Vil gasps softly when your finger begins to slowly rub circles onto his clit. 

“I bet that feels good, doesn’t it,” he can hear the smirk in your voice, but he doesn’t seem to care, and instead nods dumbly. Looking up at him, you take note of how Vil’s eyes go in and out of focus as he watches you play with his cunt.

It takes a while for him to notice, but Vil eventually sees the hard to ignore tent in your pants. Within the moment that he notices your hard-on, you slip a finger inside of him, and he jerks violently, letting out a long, guttural moan. 

“I want to see if the muscles here are working correctly,” you explain, though you doubt he’s even listening to you.

Vil opens up nicely around your fingers, producing more than enough slick to accommodate the intrusions. His clit took a while to get erect, but it now stands proudly, twitching and aching for attention. While fucking him slowly with two fingers, you use your thumb to play with it. This draws a groan from out of Vil. You doubt he’d appreciate being told so, but it’s the kind of groan that’s classic of his zombie kind. 

“Unnngh,” he moans, “g’nna uhmm,” and there’s just enough consonants and vowels for you to put together what he’s trying to say. You pull back, refusing him of the orgasm that was so steadily approaching. 

“Wuh?” he blinks slowly, and you watch as his pussy attempts to clench around nothing. “Huh, please,” Vil groans breathlessly when he finally processes that you’re no longer touching him. 

“It looks like your ability to self lubricate is working perfectly. I wonder though, Mr. Schoenheit, do you still get your period?” you ask, removing your white coat and gloves.

“No, doctor,” Vil replies after a moment, entranced with watching you undress. 

“Then I suppose the only way we’d be able to tell if you’re able to get pregnant or not is by having me fuck your womb full of cum,” Vil nods along, though he questions your logic. He’ll agree with whatever you say if it means you’ll fuck him. 

You reach into your bag, and after a moment of rustling around, pull out a vial of lube.

Laying back, he spreads his legs wider, making room for you to join him on the bed. He makes a pretty picture, with his skirt bunched around his hips, and his shirt pulled up to show off his tits. You tell him as much,

“You look so good,” you praise, and Vil preens, smiling and spreading his legs wider. You make yourself comfortable between his thighs, massaging his stiff muscles gently. Fumbling a bit, you open the lube, and lather your cock. Vil doesn’t mind the slight lull in action, instead focusing his energy on reaching up and linking his arms around your neck to pull you close. 

He moans when he feels the tip of your cock press against his hole. Vil feels like he’s never been more alive as he feels your tip press into him. He knocks his head back against his pillow, arching his back as you slowly push yourself into him. 

“There we go,” you coo, rubbing his hips and thighs lovingly when you’re balls deep inside of him. “How’re you feeling Mr. Schoenheit? Any pain? Any discomfort?” you check in, because Vil looks fucked dumb already. 

“Guh-” he groans, then mumbles to himself. You wait patiently, and finally he forms a coherent sentence, “good, you feel- good,” he whines, his mascaraed lashes squeezing shut. His words divulge into mumbles and groans as he tries to tell you about how deep your cock is inside of him, and how hot you feel.

Slowly, you start to move your hips, fucking him nice and deep to make sure he’s properly adjusted to the intrusion before you take it up a notch. Vil practically melts into the bed beneath him, weakly holding onto you, his pussy clenching and twitching around you every so often. 

“You feel so good,” you tell him softly, “ah, so tight,” you groan. Vil keens, and then instead of using his words- which he seems to have lost already- he tries his best to work his hips back against yours. You let out a breathless laugh, “faster already?” and Vil nods, letting out a pathetic whine.

“I’ve got you darling,” you coo, easily picking up the pace. He lets out a pleased moan, settling back down and returning to laying like a corpse under you. 

“Just- ah- lay back and let me fuck you baby, you don’t ngh have to think at all, let me do all the work, sweet thing,” he nods dumbly at your instructions. 

“Shit,” you breathe, fucking him so hard that his tits bounce with each thrust. Your hand fumbles around for a second before coming in contact with Vil’s clit. When you begin to rub at it as you fuck him, Vil cries out, his mouth falling open with a loud click, and his clouded eyes rolling into his skull. He clenches like a vice around you, and if you didn’t know any better you’d think he may have cum.

Drool begins to pool from his mouth as you play with his clit, and he lets out weak groans when you thrust him particularly hard or deep. 

“I’m close,” you strain, because god you think you could get off just from looking at him, and the way he’s fluttering and clenching around you only gets you closer and closer to climax. Vil babbles something incomprehensible, drool continuing to fall from his mouth, puddling on the pillow and sheets beneath him, and thoroughly slicking his chin. 

One of his hands falls from where it’s been wrapped around your neck, and rubs at his belly. Your hips stutter as you catch his drift, 

“Fuck, yeah, ‘m gonna cum inside you Vil, gonna get you pregnant, gonna fill your womb, ungh, you want that?” he nods, his clit twitching under your fingers. 

“Cum with me- Vil- c’mon baby,” you feel like you’re teetering on a cliff edge, just moments away from coming face to face with your orgasm. 

He falls first, his groan of your name getting stifled as he slaps an arm over his mouth, squirting on your cock as you fuck him through it. You cum not long after, keeping your promise and snapping your hips flush against his as you pump him full of your cum. 

You stay seated inside Vil until he weakly pinches your skin with his other hand, a nonverbal cue that your fingers on his clit and your cock inside him are making him sore with overstimulation. Pulling out you take a second to watch your cum ooze out of his pussy. If he hadn’t communicated that he was sore, you wouldn’t hesitate to get your head between his thighs and clean him up with your mouth. 

Instead you flop down next to him, and take his cold body into your warm embrace. Vil removes his arm from covering his messy mouth, and snaps his jaw back into place. His eyes go unfocused as he looks at you next to him, and moving on instinct, he goes for your neck. His teeth just barely graze your skin before he realizes what he’s doing and resists the urge to devour you. Instead, Vil kisses your neck as an apology before pulling back.

Now that there's a bit of space between the two of you, you can get a good look at him. Vil looks properly fucked, his lipstick smudged, his mouth slick and sticky with drool, his mascara running slightly, his hair all out of place.

You can’t help but lean in and give him a loving kiss. Vil kisses back weakly, humming a tad mournfully against your lips. You think he’s probably still upset about nearly letting his monstrous inclinations take over. Through the kiss you try to convey that you trust him and love him. When you pull back there's a comfortable silence between the two of you for a brief second.

“Next time, I want to be the doctor,” Vil finally speaks, his voice rough and fried. You laugh, nuzzling into him, and pulling the comforter over the two of you. 

“Ooh I like that, can you be all fascinated and awed with my living body?” you prompt, causing Vil to crack a smile. 

“I think I could, at the very least, act like I would be “fascinated and awed”” he mimics you playfully. You laugh loudly, kissing him between giggles. 

“Whatever you say, Dr. Shoenheit,” you tease, kissing him again before he can get the last word in.

#cw spit #cw monsterfucking #cw breeding kink #cw medical kink #cw dumbification #i might expand this au.. who knows lol #bottom vil schoenheit #spice

[ouranbutworse]

Kyoya: I haven't gotten an F since I failed recess in second grade. I was a painfully boring child.

Kaoru: You're still boring now.

Kaoru: I hope Hikaru is okay, he can get pretty insecure when he's alone.

Hikaru at the other end of the school: Kaoru? KAORU?!

Mori: When Shania Twain says "let's go girls" I feel like I could kick a door off its hinges.

Tamaki: I wasn't sure what to get Antoinette for her birthday so I bought her the same Apple watch as me so we match.

Mrs. Ootori: Fuyumi, don't get pregnant. Getting pregnant with Kyoya was the worst mistake of my life.

Kyoya: I'm right here.

Mrs. Ootori: Oh right, I forgot. Apparently I tried to kick him away, like giraffes do at the zoo.

Kyoya: ... I'm doing so well emotionally.

Tamaki: Where do babies come from?

Yuzuru: Tamaki, I'm sure we've talked about this.

Tamaki: Yeah, but I'm blanking. Two guys, right?

Kaoru: Sorry, we have to leave early, Ageha's school called, she tried to play God at the science fair again.

Tamaki: I'll pay for your lunch, Haruhi!

Haruhi: Oh, okay.

Lunchlady: That'll be 100,000 yen.

Tamaki: ...What the fuck?

Mori: I love my friends. They never demand I speak. I can go nonverbal and listen to them like they're a podcast.

Kyoya: My smartwatch just congratulated me on my run and said I burned 300 calories... I was sat down eating a cheeseburger.

Tamaki: Hikaru, Kaoru, FBI agents don't hold hands!

Hikaru: These ones do!

Kaoru: Yeah, and they sleep in the same bed!

Honey: While we were in Boston I got this 10% off coupon, it saved me $90 at a bakery!

Mori: He saved $90 on a $900 purchase, and he's still happy about it.

Kyoya: Right, I'm leaving for my doctor's appointment. Please behave while I'm gone.

Kaoru: Still trying to find your soul?

Kyoya: Oh please, they gave up on that when I was less than a year old.

Hikaru: The oneesan from the train poster I fell in love with got pregnant, so I've been crying about that for a few nights now.

Kaoru: Next time, tell a therapist that instead of me.

Renge: Hey, what did you guys get for number twelve?

Kaoru: I got eighteen.

Haruhi: I got nine point five.

Hikaru: I got Abraham Lincoln... for some reason.

Hikaru: Can we ride our new scooters outside?

Kyoya: Do whatever, I'm not your mother.

Hikaru: Okay! Weee!

Kyoya: Not in the street!

Midwife: Halloween, what a day to go into labour, eh? I'll get a nurse to wipe the face paint off.

Reiko: No, I want to look like this. I put it on after I went into labour.

Akira: Hey, I just rolled over in bed and Hikaru is here with me. Is Kaoru with you?

Renge: Let me check... yes.

Akira: Great, I'll be there in ten to make the swap.

Kyoya: I'm getting blackmailed at school...

Fuyumi: What?!

Yuuichi: Nobody blackmails our baby brother but us!

Akito: Yeah, messing with Kyoya is a privilege, not a right!

#ouran highschool host club #ohshc #ouran high school host club #incorrect ohshc quotes #incorrect ouran quotes #tamaki suoh #haruhi fujioka #kyoya ootori #hikaru hitachiin #kaoru hitachiin #takashi morinozuka #mitsukuni haninozuka #reiko kanazuki #renge houshakuji #akira komatsuzawa #yuzuru suoh #fuyumi ootori #akito ootori #yuuichi ootori

[odieoats]

𝐎𝐟 𝐌𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬𝐮𝐲𝐮 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐌𝐞𝐫𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐂𝐨𝐩𝐢𝐞𝐬

summary: After messing up his soba order, Pro Hero Shouto can’t get enough of it- or, just maybe, can’t get enough of you.

cw: Pro Hero!Todoroki x server!reader. 18+ smut, praise kink, afab!reader (they/them pronouns, afab anatomy), oral sex (m and reader receiving), penetrative sex, slight temperature play. reader is attacked by a villain, but it’s short and pretty nonviolent. I have worked in many a kitchen, but never a Soba kitchen- sorry to my Soba waiters out there.

wc: 5.4k

Hi guys, I’m so incredibly excited to debut my first fic on this blog! Even better, it’s for The Teahouse server’s secret fic exchange. This is written with all my love for the lovely @/kaiapaia I’m hoping you enjoy what I came up with according to your prompt 🥺

The kitchen is on fire, almost as literally as it is figuratively, when you clock in to work at your third swing shift in a row.

The old shopworn curtain separating the front counter from the kitchen is kept solely for posterity at this point. Through the fibers of the cloth, gaping holes the size of a toddler’s fist, you can see the disembodied head of your kitchen manager frowning sternly at the expeditor. The rest of her is obscured by the remaining threads of the curtain, but you can easily imagine her stance- arms folded across her body, leg extended and toe tapping- ready to chew your head off for being three whole minutes late.

Dashi broth and fear have smelled eerily alike ever since you started working at the once family-owned soba restaurant in Musutafu. It had changed hands more times than you could count since then; the early days, before your clunky cash till was replaced by an iPad screen with convenient, dummy-proof pictures, long gone. The current management (if you could call it that) had driven out most of the original staff. It’s only you left, loyal to a fault and desperate for the extra cash seniority brings you at this job as you finish up your degree. It keeps you and your goldfish fed, and that’s about all you could ask for.

You tie your apron around your waist, stealing a few pens from the cup near the to-go register and shoving them into the pocket that held your server pad. Your manager sees you- of course she does- through the curtain before you’re even in the kitchen.

“Guess who called out today?” She scoffs, moving to stand near the empty sauce bar. Your tardiness is pardoned by the absence of your coworker, for now, for what it’s worth. She lifts the lid of the prep fridge, more tears of condensation collecting on the inside of the metal nine pan than pre-portioned broth cups. “Prep’s fucked.”

You already knew what Suzume was asking you- and it wasn’t your job to prep. The hostess had already given you your tables, some of them already seated and awaiting food courtesy of the lunch shift. You hadn’t even touched back of house work since the original owners had left. The ratios that had once been second nature were now fuzzily teetering at the edge of your memories. What went into the mentsuyu? A cup of soy? A few teaspoons- no- tablespoons of mirin?

Your idling forms are an unwelcome sight in the otherwise bustling kitchen. Another waitress muscles her way past you, shoulder knocking into yours in a way that feels intentional, as she plucks three or four containers of broth out of the fridge. It makes the sight even more miserable.

“Who's going to take my tables?” You ask, though your tone betrayed the fact that you were already relenting. Being stubborn about the situation would not change the fact that things still needed to get done.

Suzume shrinks at your question, a sheepish smile stretching across her face as a nonverbal admission that no one would be.

“Absolutely not.”

“Please, I need you– there’s absolutely no one else available today!” Suzume says, almost petulantly, slumping against the sauce bar in a way that bares her age. She’s only a few years older than you- much less demanding than your older managers, despite her Type A tendencies. Her obvious distress almost instills pity, a sort of guilt washing over you for not being able to do anything about the lack of staff. Still, you weren’t being paid nearly enough to do two people’s jobs at the same time.

Another bout of protests are poised behind your lips, but you’re interrupted by the hostess poking her face through a hole in the curtain.

“Need a cold soba broth base, on the fly, now. Shouto’s here.”

Both you and your manager peep through separate rifts in the curtain, scanning the lobby for the notorious semi-regular. When your manager spots him, already seated at his usual booth in the far corner of the restaurant, she tugs at your sleeve and points her index finger through the hole. There’s no missing the shock of white and red hair peeking out from above the booth- it’s definitely, unmistakably Pro-Hero Shouto. You’re pulled back into the kitchen and away from the view of the lobby where other patrons had also just caught wind of Shouto’s appearance, whispering amongst themselves all at once. Suzume’s hands are on your shoulders as she pleads.

“Here’s the deal. You prep the sauces, and I’ll take half of your tables– for an hour. Until Shouto leaves.” Suzume says, and, for good measure, sucks some air into her cheeks before sighing. “You can even take his booth. He’s considerably generous, if you catch my drift.”

You’ve heard from your other coworkers that much, at the very least. In all your time working at the restaurant, you hadn’t had the opportunity to be his server. Whether you were training a new hire, helping back of house with prep, or preoccupied with too many tables already, Shouto had somehow evaded you. The thought of serving him made you nervous, even though, realistically, it shouldn’t. He seemed nice enough in interviews and the ads that break up your late night television binging. And yet, the sight of his muscular frame squeezed a little too tightly into the narrow corner booth never failed to make you anxious. Butterflies, you’d probably call them, had you still been an infatuated teenager- but you’re older now, and a Pro Hero is, quite frankly, way out of your league.

“Fine, whatever.” You grumble, “Just get the recipe booklet from the office for me.”

You make your way out of the kitchen, making sure to apologize about the wait to the patrons you passed. Your heart races the closer you get to Shouto’s table, serving book clenched tightly in your hands.

“You’re not my usual waitress.”

His tone and expression are even, despite the intensity in his heterochromatic eyes as he scans over you. You’re suddenly a little insecure in your uniform. Your white button-up is a little too tight from constant cycling in the laundry and the cheap brand of black slacks you own are infamously unflattering. It’s true that regulars weren’t usually clambering to see you in particular, but it still hurt a little to disappoint him.

“I’m sorry, we’re a little short staffed today, so your usual waitress probably isn’t in–“

“I see you around here all the time. You just aren’t my usual waitress. It’s a nice change.”

“O-oh, thank you.” You say, face warming, tapping your notepad with the back of your pen. “I think it’s just a formality for me to ask what you’d like. Cold soba? Extra shredded daikon on the side?”

“You know my order.” He says, halfway between a question and a statement. There’s a small smile that breaks the even line of his mouth, and honestly, he’s a little too handsome to look at. You force yourself not to stare, eyes wandering toward the napkin holder next to him that would probably need to be refilled once he left.

“‘Course I do.”

We all do, you think, though you weren’t so keen on letting the pro hero know that he was a frequent name on the tips of every worker’s tongue. Instead, you just shrug and smile at him. “Anything else today?”

“That’ll be all. Thank you.”

You bow politely at him before scuttling into the kitchen.

You prepare some dipping sauce, one for Shouto and several others as backup, but quickly stepping into the walk-in for extra ingredients seemed to be a mistake. By the time you’ve come back, all of your prepared sauces were gone, and even worse, so was the recipe booklet. You curse, unable to recall what you had just put together. Shouto was surely growing impatient, and you had no time to spend looking for the recipe. Instead, you freestyle a cup of mentsuyu. You’ve done it so many times in the past that the process should be muscle memory… right?

You rush out of the kitchen and timidly set the tray of soba down onto Shouto’s table, waiting for him to take a bite. There’s a sudden rush of anxiety swirling in your stomach as you watch him gather the soba noodles into a neat bundle with his chopsticks and dip them into the mentsuyu. He raises the chopsticks to his lips, and you swear that time slows as he opens his mouth.

Shouto’s face breaks its cool exterior, knitting his eyebrows together at the taste, but the expression passes as soon as it’s come. You let out a snarky breath. Hopefully that meant that he was okay with the taste, even if it wasn’t precise.

“Do- do you need anything else?”

“No.” He hums, in a way that you choose to interpret as contentedly. “Thank you, for everything.”

“Of course!” You squeak, bowing again before heading back into the kitchen.

The recipe booklet is, somehow, miraculously where it had once been on the prep table. You flip to the mentsuyu page in record speed, eyes flickering to the measurements for each ingredient.

Fuck. You weren’t even close.

And whatever acrid concoction you created is currently being consumed by Pro-Hero Shouto. Son of Endeavor. The Shouto Todoroki. A voice in the back of your head is screaming at you that you’ll be arrested for attempted poisoning.

You’re beyond embarrassed when you go to hand him the check, but are surprised to see an empty wooden tray. He had eaten all of it.

He’s polite as he takes the check from your hands, thanking you again and- god, his stare really was intense.

Moreover, the rather sizable tip signed at the bottom of the merchant copy of his receipt seems to imply that he really, really liked it.

“Woah.” Suzume says, later that night as she’s checking the register’s balance. “He usually tips well, but never that well.”

“Yeah, I… really don’t know why.” You call from your place sweeping underneath the booths in the lobby. During your break, you had even attempted to recreate the abominable sauce for your comp meal. It was awful- too salty, too bitter, and somehow a little oily. You were starting to think that the only flaw Shouto Todoroki had was his apparent poor taste.

“Well, whatever you’re doing, keep doing it.” Suzume laughs, handing you your share of the tips from dinner service.

—-

And so you do.

His visits to the soba shop became even more frequent after that. Stranger still, Shouto had taken to requesting you in particular to be his server. He was a little more talkative than you imagined him to be- interested in what you did outside of work, what you were studying, what your hobbies were. Whatever you had done with the mentsuyu, he apparently couldn’t get enough. Suzume had even clued you in on the fact that Shouto would ask about you even when you weren’t scheduled. Soon, even your other coworkers had noticed, envious of the attention (and, more importantly, money) that Shouto paid you. You were embarrassed to admit how you’d discovered what Shouto liked, especially considering your seniority over everyone else in the restaurant, so whenever anyone asked you what your secret was, you simply gave a vague answer and continued working. Some one-sided tension brewed between you and your coworkers, but you ducked your head and hoped that the whole ordeal would blow over- maybe Shouto would snap to his senses and realize the garbage he was eating.

“I need you to go out for a delivery.” Suzume says one day, before you’re even clocked in.

“We don’t deliver.” You say, though you already knew that you didn’t have to remind Suzume of that. The smirk on her face was enough for you to know that she had something devious up her sleeve.

“We do today.” Suzume proudly proclaims, setting an already prepared paper bag in front of you. It had been shoddily stapled together, but the smell of buckwheat and freshly shaved daikon clued you in to what was contained within. “Shouto called. Wants you to deliver it to his agency. You just gotta make the mentsuyu.”

“His agency?” You repeat, searching Suzume’s expression for any hint that she’s joking- and she’s not. “Suzume, I don’t have a car. I’m not riding the bus to deliver this thing.”

Suzume fishes around her pockets and pulls out the keys to her infamous teal moped, parked just outside the shop. “Treat my baby well, okay?”

—-

You walk past the sliding glass doors of Shouto’s agency and are immediately impressed by the size of it. Though Shouto had only been on the scene for a few years, his agency was large and neatly organized. It was jarring to see sidekicks and heroes that you had only seen on the news brush past you, all larger than life. You felt extraordinarily unextraordinary making your way to the receptionist’s desk as heroes walked and rolled and flew past you.

“Welcome to the Todoroki Agency.” The receptionist smiles, eyes flickering to the bag of food in your hands. “Dropping off a delivery?“

“Yeah, for Shouto.” You say, resting the food on the counter in front of her.

She nods, punching in the number to Shouto’s office. Holding the phone to her face, she turns her attention back to you. “You can probably just leave it there, I’ll have someone– oh! Hello, Shouto-san. Yes, your food is here. I can have– oh, alright then. Are you sure you don’t want me to have it brought up to you? Of course, my pleasure sir.”

The receptionist puts the phone back onto the receiver and cocks her head at you. “Shouto-san said he’d like to talk to you, if you have the time.”

You blink at that, not sure if you should take him up on that offer. You were still on the clock, after all, and it was nearing the time the shop usually had its lunch rush. Still, the fact that he wanted to talk to you at all made your stomach do flips. Butterflies.

Suzume owes you for making you go out of your way for the delivery. She can wait a little longer for you to return, you decide.

The elevator chimes from the end of the hall, and out emerges Pro Hero Shouto in all his glory. His eyes find you instantly, a small smile turning the corner of his lips.

“I’m glad to see you here.” Shouto says as he approaches the reception table. “I’m busy with paperwork today, so I couldn’t come to eat in person.”

“We don’t usually do deliveries.” You explain. A flash of concern crosses Shouto’s face, perhaps upset at himself for interrupting the regular flow of the restaurant, but you quickly backtrack. “But my manager was more than happy to make an exception- and I’m always happy to spend more time with you.”

Too far. Embarrassment finds a home in your stomach, but Shouto simply smirks, seemingly pleased with your answer.

“Nice helmet.” He gestures toward your head at Suzume’s teal eyesore. You’re mortified- you hadn’t thought to take the helmet off, thinking that doing so would be unjustifiable for such a short delivery. You must look like such a nerd, standing there inside his agency alongside heroes with a helmet on.

“Well, you know. Safety first.”

God, you were bad at this. This is the first time that Shouto has ever stood next to you. You’re used to seeing him sat in his booth, where the two of you were closer to eye level. Now, standing up straight and tall, a tower of muscle, you couldn’t help but feel nervous.

At least Shouto finds it funny.

“Would you want to continue our conversation in my office?”

You balk at that, heart skipping several beats at the thought of being alone with him in his office. Sitting across from him as he ate soba at his desk, chatting like friends. Like lovers–

“I’m sorry. I can’t.” You grab the bag from the counter and hand it to him. “I’m on the clock, and Suzume is gonna start sending the dogs after me if I’m gone for too long.”

Shouto hums, reaching for the bag of food. His left hand brushes yours, considerably warmer than your own. It’s a reminder of his extraordinary Quirk– of the divide that separates you. You linger there for a moment before you pull your arm back, embarrassed by how much you wanted his touch.

“Well, you’re welcome back any time.” Shouto offers, but you’re already walking out of the door, too embarrassed to look back- to notice the way Shouto stared at you as you left.

—-

A few days later, for some reason or another, Suzume needed to go home early. She had told you that much at the beginning of the shift, before pleading that you cover her closing duties. There were tears, there were promises of covering your future shifts, and some extra cash slipped in as incentive. Though her reasons for leaving were shoddy at best, you still agreed to cover her.

– and so you had stayed an extra 45 minutes, balancing the register, taking inventory, and writing the following day’s morning prep sheets. Your main motivation took shape in the takeout bag that sat behind the to-go register. Paid for but forgotten, completely up for grabs. Before you lock up for the night, you remember to snag the bag off of the counter. You jiggle the handle to the restaurant a few times, just to make sure there would be no unexpected break-ins that the higher ups could pin you for.

The street is quiet. The wind that carries the chill of the night brushes against your cheeks on your brisk walk home. The soba shop’s close proximity to your apartment was what initially drew you to it - the bus was your first option most days, when it decided to arrive on time, but the walk wasn’t too bad either. It was only fifteen minutes on a relatively well-lit and busy street, so even at night, you still felt somewhat secure. You hold your bag of leftovers close to your chest, comforted by the warmth emanating from the vegetable tempura meant to compliment your cold soba. Despite having to stay late in order to pick up Suzume’s slack, you were in high spirits.

‘I really have to ask for a raise’ is the thought that distracts you from the man leaning against the lamp post.

When you stumble, you almost mistake it for your own carelessness. It’s only when you look down and see his hand, unnaturally extended and stuck on to the back of your upper thigh, that you realize someone else was responsible for you near-fall. You gasp aloud, dropping the bag of food in your hands. It falls to the ground with an ugly clatter, broth staining the sidewalk beneath it. Your hands rush to the site where you’re connected, scrambling to pry the unwelcome limb away from you. It hurts a little when you try to rip him off, mortified to find out that his palm was stuck onto you like a piece of velcro. Even trying to take a step forward tugged unpleasantly on your skin.

“I just wanna talk, baby.” The man laughs. “Can’t a guy have some fun?”

“Get the fuck off of me!” You yell back, hands anxious and fumbling. If you could just get a good grasp on him, maybe you could just bite your lip and rip him off like a bandaid.

Before the man can get any closer or move his other hand to another part of your body, a rush of cold air overwhelms your surroundings. The grip on your thigh is replaced by an intense cold, seeping through your pants. Your skin throbs underneath your slacks, the ice freezing the fabric to the back of your thigh. Even though it hurts, you know you’re safe. You don’t even need to look up to know that Shouto’s there, but you do anyway. Your eyes meet his, and you find a tenderness there, a comfort, before he turns his attention back to the offender. He’s encased to the throat with ice, rendering him completely immobile.

“I’ve contacted the authorities, they’ll be coming to collect you soon.” Shouto says coolly, though his right hand is still extended toward the man as a warning- a reminder that there was nothing stopping the hero from completing his transformation into a full iceberg.

When the man simply chokes on a pained gargle, Shouto lowers his arm.

“I would have frozen his tongue off if he tried to say anything smart.” Shouto whispers to you, and you snort despite yourself. His left hand hovers above the junction where you were frozen together, a small flame melting the ice until you’re able to break away from the glaciar of the man next to you.

You reach your hand behind you, touching the tender spot at the back of your thigh. You hiss, retracting your arm as quickly as you had put it there.

Shouto frowns at your pained expression. “I’m sorry, it wasn’t my intention to hurt you.”

“You saved me. I’ll take a freezer-burnt leg over whatever the alternative would be.”

Shouto softly exhales, eyes flickering to where he had frozen you. “Is the back of your leg still cold? Could I– would you like me to warm it for you?”

Your eyes widen at that, too taken aback to speak properly. Instead, you simply nod, letting Shouto kneel behind you. His left hand is steadfast and professional, hovering just above the afflicted area. Despite that, you can’t help but feel your nerves ignite, knowing that he was so tantalizing close to touching you. The heat from his hand inspires another heat deep within your core, especially when you glance back at Shouto kneeling on the ground behind you and notice his lingering gaze at the assets that lived just above your thighs–

When the police arrive, you’re quick to make your statement. Gathering the bag of food that you had ejected out of your hands earlier, you’re disappointed to find that you had lost nearly half of both containers of broth. You’ll still eat it, of course, but the moisture soiling all of the containers makes everything a bit unappetizing.

“Are you walking home? I thought that you had a moped?” Shouto asks as you’re about to leave. You stand, damp takeout bag in hand, surprised that he had remembered Suzume’s moped from your visit to the agency.

“It’s my manager’s. I usually walk or take the bus home, but I had to stay late tonight.” You explain.

Shouto frowns, something that wrinkles the sides of his mouth, like it was his own personal failing that had you in the clutches of the villain that he had literally saved you from.

“Let me walk you home.” Shouto says, moving to grab the takeout bag from you. You knew that you’d probably be okay with walking the rest of the way home, but Shouto’s face read as though he had already made up his mind- he was going to walk you home. And you really didn’t mind being doted on by him for just a little longer.

When you approach the door of your apartment, you pause. You know you should probably call it a night, thank Shouto for what he had done and that you’d see him next time he decided to stop in for lunch, but you can’t help wanting to be a little selfish. You wanted to occupy a little more of his time, if he’d let you.

“Do you want to come inside and eat some of this?” You ask.

Shouto looks confused for a moment, and you swear you notice a slight red tint to the man’s cheeks before you gesture to the takeout container.

“Someone forgot to pick up their takeout order- there should be two zaru soba sets and some tempura, if you’re interested.”

“Ah,” Shouto says, looking down at the bag in his hand. “I would very much enjoy that.”

You unlock your apartment door, flickering the lights on and kicking some of the clutter you had laying on the floor underneath the couch before Shouto could come in. You tell Shouto that he could start eating the soba at your coffee table if he’d like, and that you could throw some tea on if he wanted.

He declines, sitting on your rug, salvaging the containers of broth and mentsuyu and noodles. When you sit down across from him, you watch as he dips the buckwheat into the sauce and takes a bite. His eyes widen, and you’re about launch into a tangent about how the sauce probably wasn’t how he liked it today, when he suddenly says:

“This tastes a lot better than it normally does.”

Something inside you breaks.

“You… prefer it this way?” You ask slowly, unbelieving, shocked when Shouto nods.

“It’s usually shit.” Shouto says, completely deadpan.

You laugh. You can’t help yourself. It’s a full, straight from the gut, ugly chortle. You can barely find the breath required to respond to him. “You– I messed up your order, but you tipped so much and kept coming back, so I thought– I thought you liked it that way.”

“You’ve been purposefully poisoning me this whole time?” Shouto asks, an eyebrow raised at you as you try to compose yourself, but the soft grin that graces his lips lets you know that you won’t really end up the next person arrested.

“You kept coming back to the shop! And asking for me in particular! I thought you just had bad taste.” You explain, wiping your eyes. “Why did you keep coming back if you hated it so much?”

Shouto pauses, letting his eyes wash over you. He’s focused on your lips when he confesses.

“I wasn’t going for the soba.”

It takes a minute for you to process what he had said, feeling your body light aflame once more. You can’t believe this is happening. Having Pro Hero Shouto in your living room is surreal itself, but implying that he was interested in you? You wonder if you’re dreaming or if this was all an elaborate prank by management to punish you for messing up on the job.

Shouto packs away his portion of food, analyzing your body and expression again. “Is your thigh still cold?”

Absolutely not, you think, but nod anyway. A little too enthusiastically, but that doesn’t deter Shouto. He moves to you, extends his hand to help you up from the ground, and pulls you close by your waist. You’re flush against his chest, close enough to feel his heartbeat, the erratic thrumming a twin to your own. His left hand grazes the back of your thigh, right underneath your ass. His hand is warm, firmly grasping the meat of your thigh. Though only slightly warmer than the rest of his body, his touch feels searing to your invigorated nerves.

“Tell me if I’m going too far.”

“You’re not.” You whisper, wrapping your arms around his neck. “Go further.”

His lips meet yours then, and your body turns to putty. He lifts you with ease, a perk of having that immense Pro Hero strength, and rests you on your couch.

“What’re you doing?” You pant when he breaks away, his hands at the button of your slacks.

“You asked me if I wanted to eat some of this.” He says, kneeling down in front of you. “And I do.”

You shimmy out of your pants, and Shouto wastes no time. His mouth presses a hot kiss against your clothed sex before peeling the offending material to the side, the flat of his tongue stroking up and swirling around your clit. You whimper, hips bucking into his face. Shouto is a man on a mission, mouth unyielding, groaning at the taste of you.

“You taste so good, angel.” He mutters against you, “Better than the soba.”

“Let it go.” You groan, though you can’t stay angry at him for long, not when he’s wrapping his lips around your clit. You can feel him smiling, the little shit, at making you flustered.

When he sinks his fingers into you, curling his digits and stroking the spongy roof that lived there, it’s over for you. Your thighs squeeze the sides of his head as you cum and Shouto moans, his free hand squeezing the tent that had grown between his own legs. Rolling waves of pleasure overtake you as you gasp Shouto’s name, his fingers and mouth unrelenting until your body calms.

He’s peppering the inside of your thighs with warm, wet kisses, and you swear he’s about to go in for seconds before you interrupt him.

“Bedroom, Shouto.”

At your command, he’s lifting you again, carrying you first to your bathroom (you should’ve clarified the direction) and then to your bedroom, laying you down on your mattress. Shouto is quick to undress, pulling his pants and boxers down in quick succession. You sit up from your bed, biting your lip at the sight of his cock. You can’t help but kiss the pink tip, salty precum staining your lips, before taking him completely into your mouth. Shouto lets out a shaky breath as you work your mouth on his cock.

“You’re– a lot better at this than you are at sauce making.”

Any protest you might’ve had dies with the firm grip he holds on the back of your head.

“You’re doing great, angel. So good for me, so perfect.” He whispers, encouraging you as he shallowly thrusts into your mouth, careful not to overwhelm you. “Mouth feels so good on my cock.”

He pulls away, suddenly, his breath labored, and gently presses you back into your mattress. You strip yourself free of your remaining clothing and Shouto pauses.

“Is everything okay?” You ask, gazing up from your spot underneath him.

“You’re beautiful.” Shouto says, a hand moving to grasp your breast. He seizes your nipple between his thumb and forefinger, and you arch into his touch. “I’ve wanted this since the first time I saw you in the restaurant.”

You can’t imagine that- Shouto gazing at you while you did your silly little tasks at the soba shop. Wanting you like this, stoking the embers of longing within him like you had for him.

“Me too.” You whisper, and Shouto slowly thrusts into you, one hand steadying itself on your hip and another on your breast. Your body screams with the need to touch him, too, so you run your hand up the length of his abs from underneath his shirt. It’s unfair, you think, that his shirt is still on. His body was sculpted by the gods themselves, all muscles and lean sinew. You think of the shirtless photos that exist of him on the internet, either for hero photo shoots or paparazzi shots of his suit ripped open during battle.

And now that same man is above you, rolling his hips into you, whispering into your ear about how wet and tight and perfect you are around him.

“I’m not gonna last much longer, angel.” He mutters against your neck. “Let me kiss you more.”

Your lips move sloppily together, rhythm dictated by Shouto’s deep thrusts inside of you, tongues working together as you drive each other closer and closer still to the edge. You cum again, throbbing around his cock, arching your back as he continues rocking against you. Shouto’s not far behind you, a strangled gasp spilling from his lips as his hips still.

Shouto rolls over, hand finding yours in the darkness. His thumb strokes over yours, watching you gently as your breath evens out.

“Shouldn’t have spent so much money on some shitty soba.” You mumble, nuzzling your head into the crook of his neck.

“I’ll get lunch somewhere else for a change.” Shouto says, pressing a kiss to your head. “Preferably with you.”

“I think that can be arranged.”

You were starting to get sick of soba, anyway.

#todoroki x reader #Todoroki x reader smut #shoto x reader #shoto x reader smut #shouto x reader smut #todoroki smut #shouto x reader

[oh-nostalgiaa]

Writing Prompt Masterlist, Part Nine

Masterlist of Writing Prompt Masterlists

The Prompts

18+ Phrases & Actions Prompts

100 Indulgent Trope Prompts

Acts of Service Prompts

Affectionate & Aggressive Biting Prompts

Angst Prompts

Angsty Prompts

Asking for Permission Prompts

Blood, Blood, Gallons of the Stuff! Prompts

Celebrity Fake Dating Prompts

Confrontation Prompts

Cuddly Starter Sentence Prompts

Delightfully Domestic Starter Prompts

Domestic Bliss Starter Prompts

Emergency Fluff and Softness Starter Prompts

Emotionally Charged Sentence Starter Prompts

End of the World Sentence Starter Prompts

Fake Dating But Crossing Way Too Many Lines to be Considered Fake Anymore Prompts

First Kiss with an Experienced Lover Prompts

Fluffy Prompts

Fluffy / Reassuring Sentences for Your Needs Prompts

Formidable Fluff Starters Pt. 2: Needy Edition

Friends or More? Sentence Starter Prompts

From the Hero Sentence Starter Prompts

From the Villain Sentence Starter Prompts

Have a Hug Nonverbal Starter Prompts

Have a Hug Verbal Starter Prompts

Hugs Sentence Starter Prompts

I Love You Dialogue Response Prompts

I'm Fine, Just Go On Without Me Prompts

I'm in the Mood, Babe Prompts

Ideas for a Date Prompt List

Ill & Injured Sentences Vol. 1

Ill & Injured Sentences Vol. 2

Ill & Injured Sentences Vol . 3

Is This Really Meant to Be? (Enemies to Lovers Arranged Marriage) Prompts

It's Fate, Right? (Arranged Marriage) Prompts

Injury / Hurt Prompts

It's Christmas Time Prompts

Just Some Fluff Starter Prompts

Kinda Spicy Prompts

Kiss Me Prompts

Kiss Roulette Prompts

Late Night Prompts

Laughter Prompts

Love Confession Prompts

Morning vs. Night Starter Prompts

Nearly a Kiss Prompts

Nightmares Prompts

Non-Sexual Forms of Intimacy Prompts

NSFW Emoji Scenarios Prompts

Oblivious Idiots in Love Prompts

Physical One-Liner Prompts, Part III

Physical Touch Prompts

Post-Breakup AU Prompts

Prompts for Asking Favors

Prompts for the Big Misunderstanding

Prompts for Carrying / Being Carried

Prompts for Curious Hypotheticals

Prompts for Emotionally Stunted Idiots

Prompts for People Who Refuse to Let Anyone Care About Them

Prompts for Playful Affection

Prompts for the Grumpy vs Sunshine Tropes

Prompts for Workaholic Characters Who Push Themselves Too Hard

Quality Time Prompts

Quiet Moments of Affection Prompts

Random Dialogue Sentence Starter Prompts, Part 1

Reasons for There to be Only One Bed Prompts

Receiving Gifts Prompts

Scenarios for Those Stuck in the Hospital Prompts

Send a Number to Touch Prompts

Set the Scene Prompts

Shared Desires Prompts

Shippy Autumn Prompts

Simple Acts of Love Between Lovers Prompts

Simple Acts of Love Between Lovers Pt. 2 Prompts

Smut & NSFW Prompts

Smut Dialogue Prompts

Smutty Starter Prompts

Soft & Sassy Starter Prompts

Soft Fluff Prompts

Soft, Fluffy Prompts

Soft Touch Prompts

Soft Starter Prompts

Some Valentine's Edition Intimacy Prompts

Spicy Enemies to Lovers Prompts

Spring Vibes Prompts

Subtle Love Prompts

The Last Time I Saw You, You Hurt Me Prompts

Tis the Season for Christmas AU Prompts

Together Prompts

Undercover Prompts

Valentine's Day Prompts

Ways to Kiss Prompts

Ways to React to an Injury Prompts

We Constantly Flirt Every Time We Meet But It's Never Gone Anywhere Prompts

We Could Be Together, Forever Prompts

What Are You Hiding From Me? Prompts

Words of Affirmation Prompts

You Were Asleep / Unconcious / Comatose Prompts

#masterlist #prompts #writing #writing prompts

[weeb-polls-with-pip]

Autistic Anime Girls Group 2 Round 4 Match 4

SUBMISSION PROPAGANDA:

Marcille -

"Dungeon Meshi is a manga about autism that just so happens to also have monsters and cooking.

On a surface level, Marcille seems like the most 'normal' one in the main group, she's often playing the straight man role in jokes and objects to their crazier plans. But its all just masking yall. She is a very introspective and anxious person, she spends a lot of time silently worrying about things like mortality and social rules. So whenever she's freaking out about people cooking monsters, she doesn't actually have any personal objections to it, she's just watching people break the rules she has fixated on and is unsure what to do about it. Likewise, she fell in love with her girlfriend after watching her openly being a weirdo who scampers around in the wilderness to look for cool bugs.

And yet, for all of her worrying about fitting in, she never quite manages it. At the wizard school she was seen as a weirdo half-elf who does unusual experiments and gets too excited. Over the course of the manga, she travels in an adventuring party with a few other openly autistic people (and a chronically divorced hobbit), and she slowly opens up to them over time and becomes more okay with the idea of coming across as weird.

A vote for Marcille Donato is a vote for your local weirdo autistic transbian who fails to fit in."

Mai -

"I need you to understand how utterly flat of affect this girl is. I need you to understand that nine times out of ten she communicates nonverbally and almost never shows emotions in any blatant or obvious ways. Even when she does explicitly show emotion on her face it's incredibly slight and subtle. And you want special interests? Her special interests is playing pranks on people. Her special interest is fucking around. With you specifically. She shows affection towards her friends by fucking with them. She loves them dearly and at the end of the day shows that. She's probably queer. She loves dogs. She's The weirdgirl in a show where everyone including the male characters are weirdgirls. And did I mention her affect is flatter than a board? Mai Nichijou my beloved."

#autistic anime girls poll #tumblr polls #dunmeshi #dungeon meshi #marcille donato #delicious in dungeon #nichijou #my ordinary life #mai minakami #minakami mai #mai nichijou #nichijou mai

[a-dumb-sarcastic-bisexual]

ROTTMNT Headcanons: based on my childhood

The twins used to spread misinformation on purpose 

They told Mikey if he jumped from a tall area he could fly 

Mikey broke both his legs and the twins got grounded for two weeks 

(Jokes on them Mikey can use his mystic powers to levitate)

They also told Raph if he left his allowance under his pillow more money would appear 

Somehow Raph’s money disappeared and the twins had a bag full of candy 

They got grounded for two more weeks and Raph got all their allowance and their candy

(yes these are lies my older siblings told me and yes I did fall for them)

(In my defense I was 5)

The boys hate eye contact 

Absolutely despise it 

Splinter labeled Leo a “little liar” cause his kid could never look him in the eye when he told him a story

And sure Leo did lie about some things but being labeled a liar was kind of harsh in his opinion

The boys quickly came to his aid and told their dad that eye contact made all of them uncomfortable 

And Splinter said it was a damn shame because eye contact can make bonds stronger

He also claimed eye contact brings people closer together

The boys freaked out because they thought they weren’t as close as other siblings 

Mikey cried because he felt that they didn’t have a strong enough bond 

In reality, they’re a lot closer than most siblings and they’re all neurodivergent 

The boys took the whole “bring people closer” a little too seriously

To substitute the whole “eye contact” thing they would just close their eyes and put their foreheads together

They still do it to this day

When they know their siblings are stressed or angry or sad they’ll touch their foreheads together

To remind them “hey I’m here for you” and “whatever you’re going through will pass” or “calm down you got this”

April used to think it was a cute sibling bonding moment that she would never be apart of 

And then one day she came to the lair stressed out after a long day

And Leo took one look at her, gently placed his forehead against hers, and asked “you want some of my calming tea?”

She was a sobbing mess and he had to carry her to the kitchen 

When Splinter dropped the whole “blue you are the leader now” bombshell on them Leo got so overwhelmed he became nonverbal for a week

And once week two hit April decided she had enough

She walked over to him (softly) headbutted him and said “I made your favorite”

Leo broke down sobbing and April had to guide him to the kitchen 

“Thank you” was the first thing he said in nine days

Leo used to be terrified of the dark

He couldn’t sleep alone until he was 13 because he was genuinely worried that some monster would snatch him up 

So Donnie made sure that there was a nightlight in every single outlet

#if someone tries to make this shit romantic in anyway shape or form I will steal your kneecaps and hang them on my wall #my siblings and I do the forehead thing #It's something i used to do to ground my little brother #and it's something he does when I have my panic attack #he’s a lot taller than me now so he has to squat #but I think it’s adorable #rottmnt #rise of the tmnt #Rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #save rottmnt #rottmnt headcanons #rottmnt leo #rottmnt donnie #rottmnt mikey #rottmnt raph #rottmnt april #rottmnt splinter #disaster twins

[generic-sonic-fan]

Fic idea that won't leave my head despite my continued insistence that I'm not going to write it (Bad dad Eggman warning)-

It's a Mario and Sonic at the Olympic Games fic. Bowser and Eggman are hanging out, villain solidarity and all that.

Metal Sonic walks in. Eggman precedes to pause his conversation with Bowser to absolutely scream at Metal for coming in third place in the 100m sprint. The whole nine yards. "I built you to be SUPERIOR!" and all that. He then orders Metal back to the training area to practice clear through the night 'til the next morning.

He then turns back to Bowser and says, "you were right! Kids are difficult!"

And from that moment Bowser makes it his mission to adopt Metal Sonic at all costs.

Just one problem- nobody believes him.

The Mario gang insists that it's none of their business. There's a truce between heroes and villains during the games, after all, and Peach isn't interested in pissing off what she sees as Mobian sovereign who's been known to mess with cross-dimensional shenanigans before.

So, to the surprise of everyone, Bowser then goes to Sonic to mention the problem- only for an apathetic Sonic to emphasize that he's already given Metal enough second chances by now and that frankly it's his own fault if Eggman's mean to him. Most of the rest of the Sonic gang seem to agree with this- with the distinct exception of Amy, but even she's hesitant to stir up trouble during the games. She suggests that if Bowser nicely talked to Eggman about all this, maybe Eggman would treat Metal Sonic better!

But of course, Bowser already gave the dress-down of the century to Eggman the very moment after he sent Metal Sonic away. Did Eggman listen? Of course not.

But we all know that Bowser is nothing if but persistent. He also happens to be the resident expert on kidnapping people. . .

Step 1: Bowser got his kids together and asked them to help him befriend Metal. So now Metal's got this menagerie of Koopas suddenly taking an interest in him and he doesn't really know how to deal with it. Other kids? They think he's cool and not a failure? They invite him to hang out and do fun things? But of course, Eggman prohibits "fraternizing with the enemy", but Metal finds ways to get around this order anyway.

Step 2: have the Koopa kids teach Metal a koopa sign language- one of the kids, Lemmy, already uses this sign language because he's nonverbal, so it's not too hard for the rest of the kids plus Bowser himself to sneak in a few lessons behind Eggman's back.

Step 3: once Metal is conversational, Bowser asks Metal if he'd like a new papa who won't scream at him so much.

Step 4: realize in horror as Metal explains that he can't leave- Eggman's programming won't allow him.

Step 5: Bowser asks Amy to ask Tails how to get the subservient programming out of Metal's head. Tails then provides a small USB plug-in that'll give him remote access connection once plugged into Metal's systems so that he can undo the programming.

Step 6: kidnapping time!

Step ???: realize that Metal would actually prefer to be a girl. Bowser's daughters/GNC kids then proceed to dress her up in the blackest, spikiest clothes and accessories they have. Metal adores it.

Step 7: ruin the entire Olympic games setup as Eggman threatens violence against whoever stole his robot.

Step 8: Metal gives her original "dad" the finger as she jumps into the portal back to the Koopa kingdom with her much cooler new family.

Uhhhh skip a few steps in here as the whole Bowser family goes no contact with the rest of either gang for a bit. They don't care that they ruined the Olympic games, not when they got a cool new daughter/sister out of the deal. Eventually the Mario gang comes around and forgives Bowser for ruining the games. They then invite Metal go-karting. All is well.

Step 11: Sonic visits the mushroom kingdom one day and is absolutely appalled to find out that people say to him "ohhhh you're like the flesh version of Princess Metal from the Koopa kingdom!"

#random bullshit go! #mario and sonic at the olympic games #sth #metal sonic #bowser #add this to the pile of crossovers I'll never actually write #this was inspired by the fact that both Bowser and Metal love wearing black bands with spikes

[brainworms-all-night-long]

The foxes "umm akshually☝️🤓" each other on daily basis, every second they get the chance. It's a sibling bonding activity

Sails is absolutely insufferable, he has no mercy if he catches you slipping and he will carry on the bit even when everyone is aware of how obviously wrong he is. ("Technically everything that floats be a boat". That crate was hovering not floating therfore, by your flawed logic, not a boat <- If Nine got a chance to respond probably) That will not stop the endless bickering because both Tails and Nine will also take any and all oportunity to show off. While those three correct and debate each other on the pettiest of things, Mangey has mastered the art of nonverbal sassiness (Tails wonders who that reminds him of, huh)

#sonic prime #prime bros #aha me continously projecting my and my brothers' relationship onto my silly blorbos #bullying is my love languange. theres sonething very filling about playfully arguing with someone #miles tails prower #tails the fox #miles nine prower #nine the fox #sails tails #sails the fox #mangey the fox #mangey tails #silly brainworms

[lesbian-honey-lemon]

Here is my problem with posts like these- the concept is sound. Autistic people *can* have all of these traits pictured. Autistic people can make eye contact, not be good at science, and understand emotions.

But all of these posts come off with the undertone that NOT having these pictured traits is the default, the standard, that autistics who don’t have these traits are talked about too much and that NOT having these traits is just stereotypical and bad. Those sentiments have been repeated far too often in the community for me to fully trust people who make posts like this one shown above. How can I know that they don’t REALLY mean to leave autistics who don’t have these traits, these “cute, good, more socially acceptable traits”, out of the conversation. How can I know they don’t think autistics who don’t fit this cutesy list are bad and stereotypical and should just shut up already so the cutesy autistics can look better to neurotypicals. Because it really does come off this way.

I didn’t read fiction at all until I was nine (I was forced to start reading it then) and didn’t enjoy it until I was twelve. I still only enjoy the few fandoms I know well and it is very hard to get into anything I’m not familiar with. My lifelong special interest is geology and has been since I was five. I have always been good at science, and although I have a vivid imagination and love art, I hate English class and can only make art for Big Hero 6 and the SCP Foundation because I know those fandoms well. I don’t make eye contact, and I have low empathy and struggle to read and understand the emotions of people I don’t know well. I have noise sensitivity so bad that I have almost given myself tinnitus playing music to cope. I couldn’t do dishes until I got myself rubber gloves, I can’t eat many “quick foods” such as instant and microwaveable foods because of texture issues.

I don’t fit most of those cutesy traits on the list. But, I barely ever see any positivity for MY traits, because the community sees me as the default, thinks I’m talked about enough and visible enough. There’s this undertone in all of these posts that us non-socially acceptable autistics are visible enough and we should just let high masking high empathy LSNs have the spotlight. And that would be fine if they didn’t also make the community completely inhospitable to us by shitting on people with low empathy, misusing the term nonverbal (which ABSOLUTELY pisses off actually nonverbal people and you’d know that if you actually listened to them), and refusing to talk about anyone who isn’t a cutesy high empathy high masking LSN. Apparently everyone else is accepted enough. Apparently people are aware of me already. If so, then where did my diagnosis run off to, huh?

#this is like half venting half discourse #of course it’s not all high empathy high masking lsns #but I am allowed to be fucking angry when all I see is stuff about them and how lovely and cool their traits are #where’s that energy for nonverbal autistics or autistics with intellectual disabilities or autistics with low empathy #where’s that energy for autistics with comorbidities other than ADHD like autistics with schizophrenia or cluster b disorders or OCD or DID #we won’t get anywhere if every other autistic is thrown under the bus to make high empathy high masking LSNs look better to neurotypicals #autism #autism spectrum disorder #actually autistic #autism discourse #asd #low empathy autism #actually low empathy

[slashaer]

like this for a starter from one of my d.imension 20 muses. specify muse (s) from under the cut, there's a little blurb about each to help:

ayda augefort. half phoenix in her 3rd incarnation. autistic. logical / analytical. owns a library of spells on a pirate island. daughter to the dean of a magical high school.

lady amangeaux. once queen of vegetania, her title was stripped from her once her husband, the king, died. caring, compassionate, and willing to fight for what's right. thoughtful and empathetic, she's trying not to become bitter with the war. has telepathy and can communicate nonverbally.

king amethar. rightful king of candia. man made of rock candy. nearly assassinated. not very good at being king, but he's learning alongside his wife and daughters. good in battle.

prince andhera. prince of air and darkness. awkward, hot, and muscular. done trying to make his mother proud - he's going to make himself and his friends proud, instead.

barry syx. number six of the nine barry clones. lost all of his brother clones to barry nine, who killed everyone but syx. big himbo, but happy to be here. good with guns. cyborg.

cody 'night angel' walsh. works at hot topic. into black clothes, satan, and kickass rock music. has a good heart beneath all the spikes and dark colors.

colin provolone. born of the dairy isles. daddy issues. a very loyal himbo who tries to do what's right. did not want to be a part of a war, but destiny had other plans.

delloso de la rue. mistrex of ceremonies at the bloom for over a millennia. needs everything to be perfect. has never enjoyed any of the festivities. has been hiding themself for too long - they're finally ready to show who they really are, and start living.

evan kelmp. wizard going to school for magic, and staving off the dark monsters and magic within him. orphaned, homeless, and a sad boi. bad at making friends, and has a bad temper, but a good heart.

fabian seacaster. son of a famous swashbuckler. pompous and very wealthy. acts as if he's above everyone else, because that's how he was raised. cares about his friends, even if he doesn't say it. has a talking, demonic motorcycle. loves to dance.

garthy o'brien. anasimar pirate and impresariex of the gold gardens. they trade in a lot of fine goods, especially magical items, and are known for their ability to break curses. nonbinary and badass. calm and pretty much unshakable. everyone wants to be with them. a bit of a flirt.

prince gerard. the frog prince. turned human when he married his wife, but cursed to turn back because of his cowardice. has anxiety, but learns how to fight and overcome his fears. still has his frog powers when he's a man once more.

gorgug thirstlespring. half orc. adopted, by gnome parents. emo teenager who likes music. trying to fight better. became an athlete with two of his friends. kind of sad. just wants to belong. now an artificer and builds great stuff, just like his mom and dad.

kingston brown. the man who knows everyone. protector of new york city. do no harm, but take no shit attitude. loves his parents. slow to trust, but loyal once he does. magical. vox populi.

kristen applebees. grew up in a religious home, now constantly questioning her faith and deities. recently found out she's a lesbian. laid back and chill, most of the time. philosophical in nature. smart, but a little clueless. absolutely built. worships the goddess of doubt. running for class president.

kugrash. 5 foot tall rat who travels through the subways of new york to help people struggling with homelessness. friends with santa claus. cares deeply about people and wants the world to change. has the mouth of a sailor, but means well.

pete conlan. also known as 'pete the plug' because he's a drug dealer. uses a lot of his own drugs because of a bad breakup. trans man who is estranged from his family. just learned magic and is absolutely tripping out.

pib. trickster spirit. familiar trapped in animal form due to his keeper dying. mischievous and always ready for a scheme. likes money. loyal as long as he likes you. good heart underneath it all. will change back into a human when he finds someone new to serve, or frees himself.

pinocchio. not a real boy, and never will be. warlock who gets his magic from his strings. used to lie a lot, but he's trying to be better. likes to tell jokes, but isn't the best at it. not very serious. drinks whiskey and eats bubblegum.

riz gukgak. wants to be a detective, so he's always investigating. carries a briefcase wherever he goes. acts too old for his age. drinks a lot of coffee. is always willing to take the stress off of his friends.

ruby rocks. one daughter of king amethar. twin to jet rocks. princess, but would rather perform in the circus. wants to be a part of the people and help them. has wild ambitions. practitioner of magical tricks.

sandra lynn faeth. fig's mother. has issues keeping partners. brave and willing to protect the kids at any cost. 100% mom coded, down to the mom jeans. great with a bow. has a griffon familiar.

theobald gumbar. a giant, pink gummy bear. knight of candia. loyal to the house of rocks. good in battle, not the best at casual conversation, but he's learning. will fight until the death, if needed. needs to relax a little bit.

#starter call. #specify muse. #hello one and all welcome to another episode of 'please interact with my d20 muses' #warning for long post bc i did something extra #i promise they're versatile i can take all of them out of their canons <3 #or you can add your muse into theirs!

[assless-chapstick]

BABY JOHN HEADCANONS

not like baby baby but like he's MY baby yk? my babygirl as a baby before he was babygirl when he was a little baby boy

• When the gang gets John - cuz let's be real, they get him the way one gets a puppy or a case of smallpox - he's fresh off that attempted hanging. It was more of a lynching than anything, an impromptu eye-for-an-eye killing after John shot a feller with his own god damned gun. What made a twelve year old mad enough, scared enough to kill, and how'd he manage to grab the guys gun? Kid won't say

• kid won't say much of anything, really. The gang had a disgraced doctor running with them at the time, a guy so hooked on his own cures and tinctures you wouldn't trust him to diagnose a hole in the head, and he said the noose had crushed John's larynx. Sure, the boy can still talk, but it ain't ever gonna sound the same and for the first lil while it'll be hard as hell, but he should be able to. So why don't he?

Doc says maybe the lynching, lack of oxygen to the brain made him go daft cuz just look at him, ain't a thought behind those eyes.

But Dutch, he has faith, he knows.

I think just the fear and trauma after the incident sent John to a pretty rough place and he went nonverbal for a space of six or nine months. Not right after, maybe, but in the following days and weeks - enough they got a name out of him, an age (he said 12 but he's got the stature of an eight year old, not nearly enough meat on his bones), a little bit of a story. "Where's your daddy, boy?" Dead. "And yer mama?" Dead.

• John was always told his ma was a lady of the night, knocked up on accident and dead in childbirth. He came out with the cord around his neck and his ma bled out before they could even untangle him.

There'd been a picture, though he'd never had the courage to ask his father about it, drunk and angry as he was. A young woman with round features and hooded eyes, long dark hair parted in the center and braided, his father's hand resting gently on her shoulder, both posed like a portrait.

(john is métis/mixed indigenous and you can pry that headcanon from my cold dead fuckin hands)

• in the winter john is so small and skinny he gets too cold at night and Arthur begrudgingly is like "FINE you can share with me" and so they share a bed until John is like 16 fjjfbfbf way too old to be sharing but imho John is a bit of a late bloomer and sort of, not a mamas boy but just kind of a baby yk?? Arthur is like "dontcha think it's time you got your own tent or something?" and John's like "No." and just walks away and Arthur is like "AT LEAST YER OWN COT??"

• john is reptilian in his search for heat he just wants to be warm ever since they got him he's crawled into Arthur's jacket whatever chance he gets

• during that first year especially, John was clingy and strange.... after a particularly terrible bathing experience (Susan is great but she's fastidious about personal hygiene and if water goes above John's navel he starts to freak) Arthur is just posted up by the fire with John sat between his knees, tucked into his jacket as they sit in silence mutually brooding... and John reaches up to rub the stubble on Arthur's jawline as a way of like, stimming n self soothing and Arthur would stop him cuz it's weird but he feels those boney little shoulders loosen and John says something, and he never says Anything so Arthur knows it's a big deal... so he just let's John keep doing it after that

• Susan is highly against taking in a child when they first bring John around - maybe because she thinks the main childcare duties will fall to her, or because she doesn't trust the gang to be a safe place for a kid - and this manifests as a little bit of short-temperedness towards him. it's not unusual, she's kind of a Bitch on the best days, but she's cold towards him at first... and I don't think anything Happens, per sé, no big event, just over time she sees he's a damaged boy in need of mothering and that's a part of herself she tried to kill a long time ago... but he brings it out of her. She nags him to cut his hair but brushes it out for him anyway; she'll share an apple with John if no one's looking, peeling it and quartering it and sneaking him a piece. She'll complain about the food - "God this stew is terrible what's in it? Rat meat? Here John, you finish it" - because sometimes good food is scarce and he's a growing boy and she sees his hungry frame, remembers how he used to steal and hoard food in the early days. They almost always have enough but she wants him to have more than enough. She reads to him, and then when he's learned to she gets him to read to her. A damp cloth on the forehead when he's laid low with fever, maybe a soft lullaby if she thinks no one's around...

• at age 12 John has a smoking habit. I don't know if this is unusual for the era or not and I dont know what the gang thinks of it but the kid loves his tobacco

• in fact John rolls his own cigarettes and, when he's young, that's primarily how he earns his keep - those tiny little kid's hands did a great job and he ends up getting the chore foisted on to him from everyone fndbbdf ( prerolled cigarettes had been invented only 7 years prior)

• at agw john also unfortunately loves to drink. I don't know if this was unusual for the era but I'm sure Hosea and Susan and even Dutch had something to say about it

and I think that's all I got in my head for now fellers.... thanks for reading mister....

#red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 #red dead redemption #john marston #OMFG I just saw my old tag #john marstons adult braces #uGH thats such a good HC too #love himmmmb #rdr2 headcanons #he's just a lil squinkum he's just a lil guy!!!! #and Arthur and him have a super close relationship even if they argue often #its not til after john leaves that they majorly fall out and lose the close relationship they have #arthur being cock blocked because his little brother insists on sharing a bed until hes fuckin 20 years old #they just go into the woods to jerk off its fine

[watermelonhedgie]

regressor!nine headcanons

becuz he's so me!!! these r somewhat self indulgent hehe~

regresses between 2-4

nine has a hidden box of gear in his base

doesnt use pacis but definitely uses teethers, even when he's not little he likes to chew on something while he works

primary caregivers are sonic and rusty

nine usually divides his notebooks into two sections: the front half is for blueprints and note taking, and the back is for doodles and scribbles

pretty fussy when he's little, often whining and whimpering

for protection and comfort, he wraps his mechanical tails around himself

somewhat clingy w his caregivers— he's not too fond of hugs and kisses, but will almost always be holding his cg's hand

very rarely, nine lets sonic hug him

he also goes nonverbal when he regresses, and uses communication cards w rusty and sonic

rusty got nine a music box one time, and whenever he's sad he listens to it

#these r honestly rlly self indulgent but i like em!! #i made the gifs myself w videotolive app :3 #sonic prime #tails nine #nine the fox #sonic #prime sonic #sonic agere #sfw agere #agere