#no wonder you are…… so cool kit……..

[pjsk-headcanons]

WxS & polysho hc's! (Some of these may be just me self-projecting, you may never know~)

Tsukasa has an unreal amount of part-time jobs and side hustles. When he ever gets sick, it becomes like the peppa pig episode where Miss Rabbit was unavailable and everyone had to scramble to cover for her. They're all left wondering the next day how is he able to pull that off.

Rui is fascinated by psychology, to the point he analyses every thought and pattern that appears in his brain. When he began to feel attracted towards his troupe, he just went "That's cool. I think i'm experiencing Romantic Attraction. I've always wondered what that felt like" and moved on with his day.

WxS have an unreal amount of bits and inside jokes only they understand. When Saki peeks over at Tsukasa's phone, she can't understand shit because it's just the word "albatross" or something like that being sent over and over in the WxS groupchat and everyone acts like this is funny.

Emu has absolutely 0 reaction to watching horror movies. Her partners, however, do not, so she rarely watches them.

Tsukasa is very concious of the health and well-being of his troupe members. He keeps reminding them to drink water, eat healthy and sleep well. He also carries a first-aid kit, a spare pair of noise-cancelling headphones for Nene and whatever else they might need with him.

Rui has gifted kid syndrome. He has never studied for a test in his life, not necessarily because he doesn't need to, but because he never learned how.

Nene has never drunk anything apart from water, juice, tea and coffee. No cola, pepsi, fanta, sprite, 7up or anything like that. She never felt the need to when she was younger, and now just enjoys how freaked out people are by this.

not from WxS, but i just know Ena has gone on a giant angry rant about the existence of AI art in vc more than once.

Adding to this, Emu was terrified when she first heard about generative AI. She still gets nightmares about it sometimes.

Rui tried drugs once out of curiosity. 'For science', he said, he just wanted to know how does it feel. Tsukasa lost his shit when he learned about it, and Rui never did it again.

~ 🍔

.

[saotoru]

THE SIZE KINK ASK WAS SO GOOD!!! sadly im 5'10 so he cant tower over me like i want him to 😣 i think he'd be so embarrassed if like. he had a partner that if they wore heels they'd be taller than him... that hc might be a little self indulgent though LOL.

i do love the idea of (literally) looking down on leon especially because he wants to be the man of the relationship!!! he'd be so embarrassed to look up to you!! like imagine him on his knees- you're caressing his cheek lovingly but you bring your thumb up to his lips so he can suck on it. after admiring him for little, your spit-covered thumb moves to his lips, coating them. you tell him so sweetly to open his mouth and he obliges immediately. he wasn't expecting for you to spit in his mouth, though. he's flabbergasted and the blush deepens on his face but his dick throbs in his slacks <3 and when you tell him to swallow and beg for more.... Yeah.

(also i totally get the not writing thing like wdym i havent posted in two weeks?!?! wdym i have like 3 unfinished drabbles in my docs rn!?!)

YOURE 510??? NAUR WAY kindly squish me like a tiny bug beneath your boot please 🥹🥹

AND OKAY the scenes in re4r where he’s knocked to the ground like a loser like ,,, he just looks pretty beneath you. if he’s being bratty (vendetta, di, 6), he acts pouty–eyebrows furrowed, scowling, trying so hard to pretend like there isnt a bulge in his pants just from seeing you hover over him. it’s the anticipation of what you’re going to do to him, and the fact he won’t say no to any of it <3 not even when you force his jaw open and dribble a glob of spit into his mouth!! he’ll glare at you, but will close his mouth and swallow regardless, maybe even stick his tongue out to silently ask for more :(

he also wants his mouth fingered too I KNOW IT!! moans around your fingers prodding on the back of his tongue like he wasn’t just embarrassed to be on his knees for you like this </3 now he’s sucking your fingers like it’s cock. no more glare–his eyes are fluttered shut and he’s moaning like it feels good, but it’s really cuz he’s a whore with an oral fixation and obsessed with you <333

(and no because what is even a wip anymore ??? and when was the last time i posted something in the tags ??? nothing is getting written till 2024)

[pastryfication]

Hi! I'm sorry to add to your request workload but you write Oscar so well that I couldn't help myself! So recently, I took the plunge and bought myself a home pottery kit after wanting one for absolutely ages so I wondered if you could write something about Oscar and his girlfriend having an at-home pottery date night?

hi!! thank you for the request 🫶 i’m absolutely terrible at pottery but for this one i brought out my inner talent 🤞

pottery date | oscar piastri

convincing oscar to try and do pottery with you wasn’t hard. he agreed to almost everything you wanted and did it with joy too, because he just liked seeing you happy. if he could contribute to that, he would do so enthusiastically.

he had put on an old shirt, an alpine academy polo, that he didn’t mind ruining, and sat himself expectantly at the table, awaiting your instructions.

you smile at the sight of him as you hand him a lump of clay and start explaining the basics. you're not much more experienced yourself, but he listens intently to you nonetheless.

the instructions are simple enough, and soon you're both sitting across from each other, the clay cool and malleable under your fingers. you glance up to see oscar's tongue poking out in concentration, and you can't help but laugh.

"what?" he asks, looking up.

"nothing," you say, shaking your head. "you're just cute when you're focused."

he grins brightly at you for a second before he goes back to his clay. you can see he's enjoying himself, and his contempt is contagious. the soft music playing in the background, the warm light of the kitchen, and the simple act of creating something together—it’s all perfect.

as you work, you talk about everything and nothing. he tells you about a funny incident at work, and you share a story from your childhood. it's comfortable and easy, the kind of evening you cherish.

an hour later, your hands are covered in clay, and you’ve both created lumpy, misshapen bowls. you laugh as you compare them, realizing neither of you will be winning any pottery awards.

"hey, it's the effort that counts," oscar says, holding up his bowl proudly.

you nod, still giggling. "absolutely. and i think these are beautiful in their own way."

“definitely,” oscar replies, smiling at you from his seat. you look absolutely stunning in the glowing light from the kitchen and he thinks to himself that this is exactly how he wants to spend the rest of his life. with you.

[augustinewrites]

repost of an old drabble bcs shibuya arc is starting and i am thinking of nanami (head in hands sobbing)

“that was reckless of you. dangerous, even.”

nanami’s tone is firm yet gentle, but you recognize a reprimand when you hear one.

“i’m fine,” you insist, even as you lift the hem of your shirt to press the cloth to the edges of the cut on your side. it’s shallow, thankfully, but everytime you turn you know it’s going to sting. “isn’t that all that matters at the end of the day?”

“you very well could not have been.” there’s a vein of irritation lacing his voice, you aren’t sure if it’s directed at you or the situation, but it puts you on edge.

shifting a little on the countertop, you twist the tap on to run your cloth under cool water again. “yeah, well, the chances of me dying were low, anyway.”

“low, but not zero,” he says shortly, placing the first aid kit beside you. “if you’d just let me—”

“let you what, kento?” you snap, wringing the pink-tinged cloth over the sink. you can’t exactly blame him for being worried. shallow as the wound may be, the amount of blood that’s soaked through your shirt made it look a lot worse than it actually felt. “let you die?”

the straight line his mouth is pressed in twitches into a grimace. “that’s not the point.”

“you would have done the same for me, right?”

he doesn’t hesitate when he says, “of course.”

“then that’s the point,” you counter. “you look out for me, i look out for you. i don’t regret what i did.”

a frustrated sigh slips past his lips, and you hiss slightly as you press the cloth to the cut once more, trying to clean up the last of the blood. you’ll have to patch it up as best you can before going to see shoko, lest you bleed out on the way there.

you’re reaching for the first aid kit when nanami catches your wrist. his expression is hard to read as ever, but he’s watching you carefully, meeting your gaze with a hesitance that’s unlike him.

“it would be easier if i did it.”

wordlessly, you nod and let him take the cloth from you. nanami quietly moves to your side, letting you hold onto his shoulder while he lightly dabs at the edges of the cut. he does it so carefully, hands moving deftly and efficiently as he cleans up the mess on your skin, apologizing softly whenever you so much as wince.

you wonder, briefly, if this is the same man you know as the 7:3 sorcerer. as a fighter, he’s cold, ruthless. you’ve seen him slice through curses with the ease of a hot knife going through butter. you’ve seen him put his fist through the thickest of concrete, perform a black flash four consecutive times.

but this man, this torrential force of jujutsu sorcery, handles you so tenderly. delicately. as if he’s afraid you’ll shatter in his grasp.

“you shouldn’t do that again,” he murmurs as he cuts a strip of gauze and a few pieces of medical tape.

“almost get my side split open by a curse?” you chuckle. “i don’t plan to, no.”

his lips turn down into a frown as he carefully smooths the gauze onto your cut. “don’t sacrifice yourself like that for me. please.”

the playful smile on your face is quick to fade. “sacrifice? i took a blow i knew would be non-lethal.”

he shakes his head, pulling back to let your hand fall from his shoulder. “non-lethal this time, but what if there’s a next time? you shouldn’t risk your life to make up for my own shortcomings as a sorcerer. if i lost you–”

your brows raise when he cuts himself off, clearing his throat and trying again. “if the school lost you, it’d be rather unfortunate.”

“for the school?” you repeat.

he shrugs as he begins packing away the supplies. “they’d be stuck with gojo as their sole teacher.” there’s a blush bleeding past the collar of your his as he averts his gaze, and for some reason, it makes you smile.

“well, we don’t want that, do we?” you ask softly, slipping off the counter and patting his bicep. “come on, i’m going to need a ride to the school to see shoko.”

nanami just nods, his hand automatically moving to your lower back, gently guiding you out the door.

“gojo isn’t that bad of a teacher,” you say off-handedly.

his gaze briefly flicks to yours, as if to check if you’re serious.

you can’t hold back the laughter fighting its way up your throat, and nanami cracks an amused grin, chuckling, “i didn’t believe you for a second. handling him without you is…taxing.”

you nudge him slightly. “so you admit you need me, huh?”

the hand on your back circles around your waist, carefully pulling you closer. “more than you know.”

[woso-dreamzzz]

Call Up III

Hardersson x Teen!Reader

Part of The Big Adventures Universe

Summary: Your first Senior match

"Frido," Magda says, jaw hanging open in shock," What the hell is that?"

"Cool, right?" Frido brags, pulling on her shirt to show off the back.

"They're not selling those right now," Magda says as she takes her seat," How did you get one?"

Frido grins.

On her back, is Harder-Eriksson, the name you've chosen to represent Sweden with.

"I got it off a site where you can customise jerseys."

"She got scammed too," Zećira says," Had to get a new credit card."

"Stop telling people that!"

Zećira just laughs as Pernille and Magda take their seats. "How is she feeling? Nervous?"

"Probably," Pernille says," You know how she is. It's her first game. She wants this to go perfectly."

"It will," Zećira replies. She sounds confident and Pernille has to wonder if she's psychic or something. The way she says it with such conviction is like there's no other option means she must be psychic. There's no other explanation.

The crowd cheers, stopping Pernille from pressing further and she gets to her feet to clap as the players filter out from the tunnel.

You're the second in line, right after your captain - a newly appointed woman who looks so much taller and older compared to you at just seventeen.

You look nervous, it's clear on your face. It's clear by the way you keep shifting your weight around and how you gnaw at your bottom lip. Your eyes dart around, purposely avoiding the box of supporters you know who are here to see you.

Magda can't believe what she's seeing, not really. For years, you've waddled around the house in her Sweden jersey. For years, you've worn Zećira's Sweden jersey to sleep.

But now, you're standing in front of a sold-out crowd in a Sweden jersey of your own (one day, you'll have the most jersey sales of a keeper in history). There are names on your back that people will be very familiar with (one day, those names will be synonymous with you alone, not Magda and Pernille). There is a small handful of people here to see you (one day, people will buy tickets just because your name is on the team sheet).

This is your first time playing for Sweden.

Just a friendly (one day, you'll win World Cups with Sweden).

One day, this match will be a blip in your life but right now it's the most important match of your career.

You're representing your country as you stand in the middle of you goal.

You've played against Spain's youth team countless times for Denmark. It's strange to see the Spain kit and no Natalia Guijarro running towards you with the ball.

Vicky Lopez is running at you this time, barely five minutes into the match. She's woven her way through your defensive line. She adjusts her positioning by just a fraction and winds her leg up.

She'll shoot for the top corner. You know this and you leap, falling forward onto your front.

The ball is in your hands and you roll it out towards your defenders.

"Yes!" Frido cheers, pumping her fist into the air," Yes! That's it!"

Magda wants to roll her eyes but she feels exactly the same way, though she keeps it much more contained.

The first half draws to a close with a spectacular goal from a Swedish midfielder who Magda knows recently signed for Gotham.

You jog off the field with your team, instantly being tucked under the arm of your captain as she teasingly ruffles your hair.

When you come out for the second half, you look infinitely more relaxed and comfortable. You look much more like you did when you played for Denmark.

You look secure and you definitely take a few more daring risks.

Stealing the ball right from the feet of a Spanish player looks so much like Magda that even the cameraman cuts to your Morsa cheer from the stands, waving a little flag with your face on it.

As soon as she realises Magda is on screen, your moster Frido barges her way into view as well with a sign that has some of your baby pictures on it.

It's embarrassing and so stupid but it makes you smile as you kick the ball down to your midfield who starts on the attack.

The smile that emerges doesn't fade even when the fulltime whistle is blown.

A clean sheet seems like the best way to start your international career with Sweden.

"Look at you," Your captain says, ruffling your hair," Clean sheet. What did I tell you, huh? Nothing to be worried about."

You try to squirm away but she holds you tighter. She holds you hostage as the rest of the team on and off the bench converge on you.

You know what they're going to do and you try to escape.

You manage to duck under arms but run straight into Frido.

You hadn't even realised she'd gotten onto the pitch.

"No," She teases, turning you around and shoving you right back at the team.

"Momma, Morsa!" You whine as Frido tries to walk you over," Make her stop."

"No chance," Morsa laughs," This is your debut. You get all the perks that comes with it."

You pout. "I wish I stayed with Denmark."

"Don't lie," Momma says.

"Zećira, please? Can't you stop them?"

Zećira laughs as well, arms crossed over her chest. "And miss out on my little prodigy experiencing this? Take it with dignity."

Frido pushes you right at the crowd of your teammates.

They don't let you get away this time.

Hands are on your limbs as you're lifted up and thrown into the air.

[fear-is-truth]

hello Jackie!

i had a request, i was wondering if you could write headcanons about what the Evans would be like if the knew it was your first kiss?

thanks lovely <3

𝜗ϱ ┆ FIRST KISS .ᐟ

── THE EVANs ‧ h e a d c a n o n s ೃ࿐

ft. tate ‧ kit ‧ jimmy ‧ james ‧ kai

⟣ TAGS ‧ SFW | gn! reader | fluff. not proofread

a/n: here you go pookie !! this was so fun to write :)

⟢ 𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐄 𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐃𝐎𝐍.

he’s a smug little shit <3

would debate telling you that yes he’s kissed other girls before but he’s never felt the same way with them as he did with you

ultimately decided that would just ruin the moment so he shut up

it was halloween night, the air crisp and salty as the two of you sat side by side on the beach. there was something calming about the sound of the ocean and the way the horizon seemed to stretch on forever—you felt a little nervous, not because of the darkness around you but because of the boy sitting next to you. his knee just brushing yours, and you could feel the warmth from his body despite the cool breeze. Tate leaned in, his hand coming up to cup the side of your face, his thumb brushing your cheek. you froze for a second, realising what was about to happen. before you could catch your breath, his lips met yours. softly at first, like he was unsure if you’d kiss him back.

but you did.

when he pulled away, his mouth lingered near yours, his breathing shallow. you blinked up at him, lips still tingling. you whispered,

“i’ve never— been kissed before.”

a small, almost smug smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, but there was a hint of shyness in the way his eyes softened. he let out a breathy chuckle, shaking his head a little as if he couldn’t quite believe it.

“really?” he smirked, “guess i got lucky, huh?”

he looked away for a moment, trying to compose himself, but when his eyes returned to yours, that cocky grin was back.

⟢ 𝐊𝐈𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐋𝐊𝐄𝐑.

he’s such a respectful gentleman

would totally ask for your consent

thanks you for giving him your first kiss 🥺

the smell of fresh bread filled the air as you stood at the counter in briarcliff’s kitchen, hands deep in dough. the repetitive motion of kneading was almost enough to distract you from everything else going on. you wiped your brow with the back of your hand, unknowingly smearing a bit of flour across your nose. Kit was working nearby, and you caught him watching you out of the corner of your eye. he set down what he was doing and approached you. he reached up, thumb brushing lightly over your nose, wiping away the flour.

“you’ve got a little somethin’ right here,”

his eyes met yours, and for a split second, everything else seemed to fall away. his hand was still lingering near your cheek.

“you’re really pretty, y’know?” his words were quiet, sincere, and the way he said them made you feel like he truly meant it.

“can I kiss you?”

your heart jumped into your throat. you’d never been kissed before, never had someone look at you the way Kit was looking at you now.

“i’ve never been kissed before,” you admitted, feeling a little shy but trusting him completely. “but... okay.”

Kit’s eyes softened even more, and he smiled that sweet, reassuring smile of his.

“thank you,” his hand cupped your cheek, thumb brushing lightly over your bottom lip before he pressed his lips to yours. the kiss was soft, slow, and tender—just like Kit. he didn’t rush or try to overwhelm you, just let the moment linger, giving you time to breathe, to feel. when he pulled back, his eyes searched yours, making sure you were okay, that you hadn’t regretted it.

⟢ 𝐉𝐈𝐌𝐌𝐘 𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆.

this casanova is very confident.

great kisser, too.

won’t hesitate to give you more kisses.

backstage at the freak show, you sat on a makeshift bench, pink cotton candy in hand, waiting for Jimmy. the vibrant sugar melted on your tongue, sweet and sticky. he finally appeared, his face lighting up his face as he came over to you.

god, you loved his dimples.

you offered him a bite of the cotton candy, holding it up to his lips. he took it, eyes crinkling with a smile as he savoured the sweetness. he let the taste linger for a second longer before leaning in, his lips meeting yours.

it started with a feather-light touch, sweet, like a pink cloud of cotton candy. as the kiss deepened, it became more earnest, his lips moving with a slow, deliberate tenderness. he pulled back just enough to look into your eyes, his gaze filled with affection.

you looked up at him, a bit breathless.

“that was my first kiss,” you confessed, your cheeks flushed. Jimmy brushed a strand of hair from your face and grinned.

“yeah? in that case, gonna make sure there’s more to come.”

⟢ 𝐉𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐒 𝐏𝐀𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐂𝐊 𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐂𝐇.

oh god he’s such a simp

very, very respectful (kinda dramatic, too)

maintains a somewhat calm facade but he’s over the moon

you sat beside your lover on the chaise longue, the crackling fire the only sound as the evening’s conversations faded into a comforting silence. James took a sip of whiskey, his eyes always finding their way back to you, filled with unadulterated adoration. he must have noticed something different because his gaze became more intent, searching your face with concern.

“my love, you seem troubled,” he set his drink aside and turned to face you fully, his expression softening.

“what is it that plagues your mind?”

you hesitated, feeling the flutter of nerves in your chest. for so long, you had admired James, fallen for his charm, his brilliance, his darkness. but there was still one step you hadn’t taken—one you had never taken with anyone. you swallowed, fingers twisting in your lap before you finally spoke.

“i’ve never been kissed before,” you confessed,“but... i’d like you to be my first.”

for a moment, James didn’t speak. his brow furrowed slightly, and then, he reached out, his gloved hand brushing your cheek with the utmost care, as though you were the most precious thing in his world.

“my darling,” he began, “are you certain? i would never wish to rush you, not with something so dear as your first kiss.”

you nodded, meeting his gaze, and the certainty in your eyes must have been enough. James’s smile grew, though his eyes were still filled with reverence, with restraint.

“as you wish,” he murmured, hand trailing down to rest on your chin, tilting your face toward him with the utmost delicacy. he leaned in slowly, giving you every chance to pull away if you changed your mind. but you didn’t.

when his lips finally met yours, it was soft, careful. he kissed you with the grace of a man who cherished each second, his lips moving against yours in a tender, almost reverent way.

when he pulled back, his dark eyes searched yours with adoration.

“you have gifted me a privilege i shall not take lightly,” he purred, “i shall treasure this, just as i treasure you, my dearest.”

⟢ cult leader .ᐟ 𝐊𝐀𝐈 𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐎𝐍.

he’d probably know that was your first kiss

gets off to the fact that he’d taken that from you (and planning to take away more of your “firsts” if ya get my drift)

you were sitting beside Kai on the basement couch, close enough to feel the warmth of his body. he leaned back casually, one arm resting along the back of the couch, fingers just brushing your shoulder. his dark eyes were laser-focused on you, intense, but with that cold, calculating edge he always had.

you had been talking—well, he had been talking. Kai’s voice was low and smooth, his words wrapping around you like a sticky cobweb, pulling you in, making you feel both nervous and drawn to him at the same time. he had a way of making you feel like the only person in the room, like you were the one thing he couldn’t take his eyes off of.

without warning, he shifted, turning his body toward you. his hand moved to your jaw, fingers curling beneath your chin as he tilted your face toward his. you froze, heart racing as you realised what was about to happen. before you could think, his lips were on yours—firm, decisive, not soft or sweet, but claiming.

when he pulled back, his eyes lingered on yours, studying your reaction. he didn’t move his hand, fingers still lightly holding your chin, and a devious smirk tugged at his lips.

“that was your first kiss, huh,” he deadpanned, his voice flat, almost amused. it wasn’t really a question, more of a statement. he could tell. of course, he could tell. Kai had always been able to read you too well. you swallowed hard, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks, unsure of what to say. his smirk widened just a bit, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes—pride, maybe, or satisfaction at being the one to take that from you.

“figures,” he added, letting his thumb brush against your skin, “don’t worry... it wasn’t bad for a first. you’ll get better.”

 fear-is-truth 2024 — all rights reserved. do not modify, repost, translate, or plagiarise my content.

[diagonal-queen]

Ooo may I ask for Leviathan, Satan, Mammon, Asmodeus, and Solomon with a clumsy!reader that just smiles and apologizes after accidentally hurting themselves?

Like reader could almost split their head in two on their way back home and they would just smile and brush it off as if a part of their head isn't bleeding profusely-

If you're not comfy with this, I respect that! Have a nice week!:3

-🎧

With a clumsy S/O

♡ characters: Mammon, Leviathan, Satan, Asmodeus, Solomon x gn!Reader

♡ synopsis: you're just silly and clumsy and they're worried about you </3

♡ cw: Swearing, bruises, cuts, scrapes, falling over on the fuckign floor, blood

note: wow my first obey me req!! how silly and fun. you guys don't know the joy i felt when i went to my follower page and saw a bunch of OM pfps, you guys are so cool! should i download nightbringer or nah (i was gonna do it when it first came out but i saw the 3d models and got scared) apologies for errors and i hope you enjoy x

Mammon:

You're going to give him a fucking aneurysm

Mammon loves you so much, like this man is WHIPPED, so if you ever get hurt all of his protective instincts kick in

He's overprotective even if you don't get hurt. If it looks like you're in any kind of danger, he's right by your side anyway worrying about you like a devoted puppy

And then when you inevitably do get hurt, you *apologise* for it? Even though you're literally dying (he thinks)???? He's not having it!!

While he'll definitely chide you while he helps you recover, he's really just trying to cover up the fact that he's unbelievably worried about you. Pride isn't his sin but damn if he doesn't have way too much of it

It doesn't matter how many times this happens, he never gets used to it. And every single time he demands you don't apologise, but also demands that you be more careful not to do it again, lol

There is also a small part of him that does not want you to get hurt because he's the one who's been tasked with supervising you, and he knows Lucifer will ground his ass if he finds out you've sustained moderate injury (or worse. confiscate goldie)

He sometimes wonders how you can possibly be so nonchalant about it, because you're a fragile little human!! how aren't you more worried??!?!?!

Honestly this mf is such a hypocrite because i KNOW his ass is clumsy as shit too, but it's not okay when you do it because he loves you, and he doesn't like seeing his loved ones get hurt. So you better not keep letting yourself get hurt, got it??

Leviathan:

Do you want me to be honest? Do you really want me to be honest??

After a while, he would just start filming you whenever you fall and making compilations of you eating absolute shit

Like, clearly it doesn't bother you. After the first few times where he gets all frantic and jittery, he learns not to take it too seriously

(Unless you genuinely injure yourself of course, which he'll panic about regardless of how you react)

Every time he sees anyone get hurt, in any way, ever, he'll point and be like 'haha babe that's you'

He doesn't want you to sit in his gaming chair because he knows you'll roll around in it and then inevitably fall down, damaging both you and the chair in the process

Levi would never admit this, but the more you hang out in his room, the more blankets and pillows he leaves on the ground where you guys sit to watch anime/game together. Claims it's to make you more comfortable but mostly because he doesn't want you to get hurt while he's watching you

He's so used to you wandering into his room, bloody palms/head/knees, that he begins to keep a first aid kit in there for you (he would also totally buy you anime-themed bandaids let's be honest)

His biggest struggle with all of this at the end of the day is when you enter his room while he's livestreaming and the chat starts spamming about the fucked up bloody ghostly spirit in the background and he has to be like 'no that is the loml actually'

Satan:

Satan is so normal ❤️ he's so Studio Ghibli man coded and I'll die on this hill

If you come home bleeding, he'll do all the classic romantic shit for you. I'm talking the gently cleaning your wounds, bandaging you up, making you warm tea, reading to you while you rest in his bed AUGH 😩

He'll ask you to please try to be careful and stay safe from now on, because he just couldn't ever get anything done constantly worrying about you the way he does.

You always promise to try and be more careful, but that promise is, somehow, never kept (he lets it slide because he's a sweetie)

When you two are cuddling in bed together he'll gently caress and trace his fingers over your assorted bruises and healing scrapes

Satan doesn't let you apologise for hurting yourself, either. He reassures you that it's okay, but he really does just want you to keep safe and well

He is willing to carry you sometimes to avoid you slipping. He'll also make sure you stay away from sharp objects and he'll idiot-proof his bedroom so you can spend time in there. This man will take no chances because he wants to hang out with you that much

Satan catches you if you trip because he's romantic like that. Tbh he's been so conditioned into expecting it that he's always on alert whenever he leaves the house with you

Congratulations, you pavlov'd the devil into being gentle and caring. Do with this new power what you will, but for the love of god please be more careful

Asmodeus:

You are actively driving up his concealer consumption because he keeps having to USE it all on you because you won't stop BRUISING

Dabbing some of it over a hickey he gave you is one thing. This is unreasonable, he says, it's ridiculous!

Asmo is so worried you'll get some kind of infection, so he's so careful when he does your makeup. He has alcohol wipes and warm cloths to clean your cuts and bruises and everything

He begins carrying bandaids with him just in case. He's really gentle when he puts them on, it's basically an intimate ritual between the two of you at this point

Tbh though he does love to pamper you, so he doesn't mind spending his time undressing you, washing you, cleaning you up and then cuddling you for the whole night (among other things- this is Asmo we're talking about)

You genuinely have nothing to worry about either, because you could just be a walking bruise and Asmo would still think you're the cutest human in the three realms. He'll still participate in an unacceptable amount of PDA regardless of how hurt you are and that's the Asmodeus guarantee

He's really way more worried about you than you are. He *insists* that you're more careful, because if you were to get seriously injured or die, then who oh who would go clothes shopping with him then?? Who would he have to do makeup on? Whose nails would he have to paint? The absolute horror

(What a drama queen lmao)

My mans is not beating the down bad allegations anytime soon, but he doesn't care because his precious little lamb is hurt!! And he can't have that, not at all.

Solomon:

Lowkey unbothered

You think this dude has lived 200+ years to not know healing spells? Nah. You wander up to him and he's just like 'tut tut. why are you like this' and fixes you right up

It's not that he's fine with seeing you hurt−he's not−but he takes little time to get used to it, and being as powerful as he is he knows he can just heal you

He kind of secretly enjoys being your healer. He likes the way you rely on him for that kind of thing, because let's be real he's got a dom thing. Don't lie to yourselves folks.

Whenever he sees a new mark on your body he'll sigh and ask what happened, more out of mild amusement than exasperation. If you're too embarrassed to answer he'll chuckle but not press further

Solomon is a teaser. He'll tease you about this, and there's nothing you can do about it. What are you gonna do? Tell Lucifer? They don't have a PACT (lmfao suck it)

(This is gonna be very embarrassing for me if it turns out they did make a pact in nightbringer and i don't know because i just never fuckin played it)

Anyway, you notice that as time goes on, whenever Solomon holds your hand, his grip gets just that little bit tighter. Like Satan, he is always prepared

Maybe he really is secretly worried about you. Who knows? Solomon is a wild card, but if there's one thing to be sure of, it's that he'll always be there to help heal you no questions asked.

taglist~ ♡

DM me if you'd like to join my Obey Me! taglist!

[wheels-of-despair]

Best Seat in the House Pairing: Eddie Munson x You Summary: Eddie needs a place to sit. Is Evil Woman's lap available? Contains: Eddie POV, a touch-starved metalhead, tooth-rotting fluff. Words: 700ish

There's nowhere to sit.

Eddie slows on his way back into the garage, contemplating his next move. He'd gone inside to pee the second Corroded Coffin's final song ended today's practice session, and returned to find everyone deep in conversation in the back of the garage.

Gareth has turned around to sit backwards on the stool by his drum kit. Grant sits on an upturned bucket. Jeff and Evil Woman are on the old loveseat. Should he wedge himself between them? Nah, too territorial. Should he sit on the floor? His ass aches at the thought of the cold concrete. The lawn chairs are behind a heap of junk in the corner. Too much effort. What about borrowing a chair from the kitchen?

She makes eye contact and smiles, and he forgets how to breathe for a second. Fuck, how does she do that? She pats the arm of the loveseat, and his feet start carrying him toward her while his brain tries to catch up. He perches on the edge; he's so close to her, he can almost feel the warmth radiating off of her skin in the cool garage.

She looks up at him with a smile, and he fights the urge to slide into her lap. She turns her attention back to the story Grant is telling about the vacation he just returned from, and he does too.

Briefly.

The padding on the ratty old loveseat's arm is virtually nonexistent. He can feel the edges of the frame digging into his ass. Damn his lack of padding. He shifts to face the group, sitting sideways and hoping that distributing his weight more evenly would help. The side of his leg touches the front of hers. He eyes the denim-covered thighs just a few inches below his own and wonders…

What would she do if he sat in her lap? He knows it's not a particularly manly thing to do. But it could be cute, right? She might be surprised by it, but he doesn't think she'd shove him to the floor. What would the guys do? Make fun of him?

They wouldn't dare.

A pain shoots up Eddie's spine, and his mind is made. He shifts his weight onto his hands and eases down, his ass landing gently on her lap. He holds his breath and watches her from the corner of his eye, waiting for a reaction.

She glances up with an amused expression. Not tossing him to the floor. Not asking him what the fuck he thinks he's doing. She simply acknowledges his arrival with a smile and turns her attention back to Grant.

Eddie tries to listen to his friend, and he does for a few minutes. Then, a hand snakes its way across his lower back. Oh, fuck, she's holding him. She's wrapped her arm around his waist and stuck her thumb inside his belt loop to hold it there. Eddie Munson, a grown-ass man, is squealing like a teenage girl on the inside.

Eddie's sure the story being told is a fascinating one, but he has much more important things to contemplate. Like how she laughs and says "oh my god" and "no way" like she's truly invested in the tale of Grant's family vacation while she's doing this to him.

And how her fingers drift north a little bit and find the bare skin beneath his shirt. He shudders, and she glances up at him and mouths "sorry." He's not sure if it was a ticklish spot, or his body reacting to so tender a touch. But she leaves his side alone and moves her hand to his lower back. Under his shirt. Rubbing gently.

Eddie tries his hardest not to melt into a puddle in her lap.

He's never had anybody want to touch him like this before. It just feels so natural. Like it's the most normal thing in the world, to be absent-mindedly stroking the bare flesh of the town pariah's back.

None of the guys had noticed. He was facing them. They didn't see her hand disappear under his shirt. It wasn't done to gross them out, or on a dare. It wasn't for show. She just wanted to touch him.

It was the sweetest, most intimate thing he'd ever experienced.

He hoped Grant's story would go on forever.

[eee-lordy]

Hiiii! Can you write about jacob elordi x fem reader who is in charge of the makeup and outfits on saltburn or elvis?

Maybe there is a video going viral where he is looking at her (WITH THOSE PUPPY DOG EYES HAHSHAJDVDSJ IM GONNA EAT HIM) while she is doing his make up and she is clueless, yk those videos where the music is lana del rey and the caption is like "me when im literaly obsessed with her" or "when hes completely in love with u>>>>>"

And when that goes viral, the cast teases him and they go on a date?

Idk i think its cute :3

───※ ·❆· ※───

You were never one to get star struck. In the year and a half you'd been professionally applying makeup to the mugs of many stars, you'd been unfazed by celebrities captivating auras. You hardly blushed when Chris Pine tried asking you out as he sat in your makeup chair. You'd laughed in understandable assurance as Billie Eilish apologized for almost knocking your powder kit from your grasp; when her brother burst in the room to surprise her. You saw your clients as just that, people who trusted you to properly apply blush and fake scars.

But all the composure you'd been proud to claim went out the window when you'd been assigned to work with the cast of Sofia Coppola new film. You hadn't expected to lose your cool. In fact, you'd been rolling your eyes as the hair stylist that shared your caravan had droned on and on about this new Elordi fellow and how dreamy he was. Some of the other workers in the hair and makeup department parroted her yearning for the guy. But you were certain you'd remain calm and cool in this supposed deities presence.

And then he sat down in your chair. And he looked up to you with an intriguing set of droopy dark eyes. And you knew Jacob Elordi was about to be a real problem for you.

It wasn't his fame. You weren't swept up by his essence because of the collective crowd on the internet drooling over the guy. It wasn't even his magnetism. Because he did have a lot of that, you wavered it was necessary to survive fame. But it was more the way he would look up at you from that make up chair. With those dumb stupid big beautiful eyes.  And his smile that followed. And then the infuriating way he'd start conversations with you, those first few days on set.

"What'd you have for breakfast this morning?" Jacob would wonder, watching as you readied a sponge. You would answer and ask for his in return. He would mention stopping by a cafe earlier and go on to ask you where you grew up and if you liked it there and what the best book you've ever read was called. 

"You've got to stop chatting away, makes it hard to do your touch up's." You'd smile, reaching out to adjust Jacobs perfect fucking face so you could work on his brows. 

"Sorry." He breathed out, seemingly genuinely guilty. He went on explaining himself still, slowly as you continued to do your job. "Don't like awkward silence. Or bullshit small talk. Getting to know you seemed like the safest route. Since you'll be covering the dark circles under my eye's this whole shoot."

You laughed in understanding before announcing that you got it, and waved over the hairdresser on site today. 

"Wait, before you go, that book you mentioned..." Jacob pointed your way as you turned for closing up your kit of brushes. Then you watched as the guy wrestled his cellphone from his jacket pocket. "Here," Jacob said, extending the device your way. "Write the title in my notes app. I will forget, but I don't want too. It sounded properly readable."

"Oh." You turned your lips down in a twisted grin of surprise. As you took the device from Jacob's grasp, you felt a surge of gratification that the guy trusted you enough with his phone let alone wanted to read a book you mention not having read since uni. 

Not missing the way the hairdresser rolled her eyes, you grinned and found Jacobs notes app with ease, straining not to glance beyond your means. With the press of a few buttons you wrote down the title, and fought off the impulsive urge to include your very own phone number as well. That would be embarrassing, knowing full well this man would never call or text or probably even dare to glance your way beyond the makeup chair. 

///

The next few weeks went by the same. Jacob would yammer away until you almost had to hold his mouth shut to finish his makeup. And you would fill the silence by telling stories of your own, because he'd mentioned he wasn't fond of silence and you knew your job went beyond applying lip liner, it was also to keep celebrities happy as royalty.

And all the while you blinked away thoughts of how funny he was. How beautiful Jacob was. You wouldn't let yourself realize he was exactly your type. You wouldn't let yourself dream that you might be his. You simply relished the times you made him laugh. Once you made him laugh so hard he cried, tear tracks ruining the powder you'd only just applied. 

The hairdresser who was the leader of fawning over Jacob as soon as he left the room had taken to frowning in your direction most days. You reckoned it was because she'd never been able to make him laugh that hard, or at all, ever. And the stories she told him when he asked her to seemed to lose his interest halfway through every time. Try as Jacob might, you saw his eyes glaze over as the hairstylist droned on about her retirement plan or the grocery list she'd put together that day.

After acknowledging her sorry excuse for conversation Jacob would stop you from packing up and heading to lunch so he could ask you for more books to read, more films to watch, more stories from you. Then his assistant would interrupt, or he'd be called to set and you'd be left to head to the craft table with dangerous feelings of lust and intrigue to push away. You would not let this boy break you of your career long streak of professionalism, damn it.

///

One night, in the middle of a week break from set, you spent an evening scrolling mindlessly. When a tiktok with Jacob's name in the tags popped up, you scrolled away at the speed of light. You didn't let yourself linger too long on posts with him there, not wanting to know anything good bad or otherwise so long as you were assigned to work with him on this project. But it wasn't long before another tiktok popped up featuring the guy in a very familiar setting. He was too famous at this point. You watched as you saw leaked footage from behind the scenes of Priscilla, but weren't too shocked. The stars of the film were occasionally being interviewed by publicists between takes to document their experience, beginning to promote the film.

And maybe you let yourself keep watching out of a sense of entitlement, you'd been working on this set. You could watch a video of Jacob from work, right? You couldn't tear your eyes from him no matter how hard you tried now anyway. You watched as the person holding the camera zoomed in on the guy while he adjusted his suit jacket. You watched as he seemed to talk to the costars at his side. You watched as he looked up and smiled. And you couldn't help but melt a little at the sight, he seemed so happy, so at ease. And then you watched as Jacob's grin widened as he waved someone closer. And much to your horror, you saw yourself step into frame. 

You remembered that day, where you waited on the side lines to fix Cailee's eyeliner. While the director was storming up a new camera angle, Jacob waved you over to mention the last chapter of your favorite book he'd almost finished reading. He was laughing over a bit that you'd warned him about the week before. And you were laughing over how excited he was about it, finally having someone to gush over your favorite plot with.

Now, huddled beneath the blankets of your bed, you slammed your phone down at your side, bewildered to know someone had caught your interaction on camera. Raddled to have just seen Jacob lighting up at the sight of you. Angry at yourself for hopping you'd read his body language in a way that suggested he really liked you that much.

When you picked your phone back up, you watched the candid moment over and over, trying to debunk Jacob's smile. Trying to convince yourself he was only being friendly, only cared because he had to find someone to mingle with during down beats. 

And then you read the comments. 

"If Jacob smiled at me like that, I would die."

"Imagine making him laugh like that she's so lucky."

"Who is she??" One comment read. "Her last name will be Elordi if he hasn't married her already, calling it." Someone replied.

You shouldn't have read the comments.

///

When you were due back on set you swallowed away the excitement bubbling up in you at the prospect of seeing Jacob again. This was so unlike you, to be awaiting the arrival of your client with an embarrassing giddiness. As you reminded yourself that this was your job and Jacob was simply a guest in your makeup chair- the man himself eased into the caravan, ready to get ready for the day.

"Hey, you! I had a bunch of points earned up to get two free coffees so I brought you one. I remember you said you like almond milk so I asked for that." Jacob was all smiles as he extended a latte to you. Awe fuck. 

"Thank you, Jacob." You struggled not to sigh with angst as you accepted his very generous surprise. Luckily, he seemed none the wiser that you'd answered through gritted teeth. He just kept smiling as he headed to your chair.

"Oh, me first today lovie. Need to start your dye straight off, you're little makeup girlfriend will have to wait." The hairdresser announced, daring to grab Jacob by his sleeve, yanking him toward her end of the trailer. The other workers around rolled their eyes, sick of her endless commentary. You bit your tongue as you leaned against the counter, shaking your head when a coworker scoffed in the hairdresser's direction. Luckily, Cailee waltz in, ready for you before anyone else. You thanked God for the distraction, readying your brow pencil and chatted to the girl about her break from set. 

All the while, your least favorite coworkers voice demanded to be the loudest in the room. She made everyone listen to some boring ass story and practically whinnied when Jacob got up to trade Cailee places. 

"No offence, you're fine and all, just don't have hair as silky smooth as Jacob's." The hairdresser told Cailee but made sure her comment was loud enough for everyone to hear. "Oh wait, silly me," 

As Jacob settled in the makeup chair and began to ask if the drink he'd brought you was good, the hairdresser of your nightmares shoved her way between you and the person you were meant to be working on. 

"I left of a bobby pin, how'd I forget," She droned in an annoying pitch, nearly shoving you over in her attempt to get closer to Jacob. 

"Can you please get out of my space?" You called, annoyed that she was pushing you away from your station without a single polite excuse.

"Can you please stop being such a jealous bitch?" The hairdresser whipped to face you with a manic smile.

"Oh my God?" You almost laughed in shock at her comment when another coworker dared to reach out and pulled her away, and out of the trailer. Another hairdresser apologized to the room for the previous girl's behavior and stepped up to lead charge of Cailee's wig.

With no time to shake the rage that had been born in you, you pushed it down, biting your lip hard as you went about finding the right sponge for Jacob's foundation. 

"Are you okay?" He asked, seemingly worried. And that pissed you off too. Why'd he have to act like he cared so much? Why'd he have to be so damn wonderful?

"I'm fine. Thank you again for the coffee, it...is kind of bitter but it was a really sweet gesture, I swear. Close your eye's please." You responded as calm and cool as possible.

"Bitter... sweet..." Jacob winked, just for you to see. It was the best thing you'd ever witness. And the worst all the same. You were sure you blushed. You tilted his chin and struggling to suppress how much you'd miss when you didn't get to be this close to him. He stayed quiet as you finished his face, and so did you. When his makeup was done, almost everyone else had left the trailer. The last remaining beautician was walking out as you'd closed the case to your kit. 

"I thought you didn't like awkward silence." You dared to mention, as Jacob stood to leave. It wasn't like you'd thought to ask. It was just a thought that ended up blurted out. And then you were bold enough still to look up and right at the guy with those perfectly shaped eyes to find he'd already been staring right at you. 

"S'not so awkward with you."

You really wish he hadn't said that. You really wished you'd never prompted him too. You really wished he wasn't still standing there looking across the features of your face like he was waiting on you to respond. There was a knock on the door just in time, and a voice calling for Jacob to hurry to set. 

"I'll see you after lunch, right?" Jacob wondered as he moved toward the door. You muttered something like "Yeah sure," as you turned to start collecting your things. As far as Jacob knew you were headed to the craft table. But as your feet started marching out of the trailer, you found yourself headed toward the manager of the crew you'd been hired in with. You explained to her that you really thought it was best you turned in your resignation. 

You'd never dared yourself to tread the line during work. Never been so enamored with someone you were meant to be professional with. It wasn't in your best interest to see how far this went. And it wasn't in Jacobs best interest that you kept lingering around distracting him with stories and novel suggestions.

So, on a decided whim, you packed your things, swallowed frustrated tears, and headed home for good.

///

You let yourself be mad once your front door was shut and locked. You threw away the stupid coffee Jacob bought you. You turned the telly off and tossed the remote toward the hardwood when Euphoria came on. You muttered and cursed and slammed cabinets as you made a carb heavy comfort meal and called your best friend. 

The day went on and turned to night as you tried to stop feeling sorry for yourself. You began getting ready for bed, talking yourself into sleeping off all the weird feelings and events that had transpired today. Tomorrow, you'd find a new job and make sure to decline any with that one awful hairdressers name on the list of beauticians. 

As you sat on the edge of your bed and set a reminder for yourself to job hunt tomorrow afternoon, a notification interrupted your typing. 

Instagram was alerting you that one certain Jacob Elordi was sending you a fucking message. He'd followed you a couple weeks ago, when you handed him your phone to show him a picture of your beloved childhood pet. He scrolled away from it and found your handle to promptly pull up on his very own Instagram, following you with a smile.

Your eyes widened and your thumb worked faster than your brain, clicking the popup before you could talk yourself out of it. Oh, shit now he was going to know you opened his fucking stupid ass message. You really wished you hadn't met this boy. He wasn't even here and he was torturing your every thought. 

"You were NOT there after lunch as promised. Call me? xx"

Before your eyes displayed a row of numbers that if pressed would call Jacob Elordi's cell phone. You tried really hard to talk yourself out of it. But being away from him for the last ten hours had really done a number on your heart. It missed him more than your brain was afraid to admit. Your thumb clicked the numbers. Your phone started to ring. 

After one buzz he answered. 

"I got off set to hear you'd quit and left me to bear that horrid hairdresser without you? Was the coffee really that bad?" Jacob's voice crackled through the line, soft and saccharine. You chuckled morosely at his coffee joke before responding.

"No pleasant greeting. What if it wasn't me calling? What if it was some crazy fan girl?" You dared to venture. 

"Are you saying you're not a fan of mine?"

You wanted to assure him that you were probably his biggest, but sighed in place of a response, struggling to choose your words. 

"What happened? That hairdresser should be fired. You shouldn't've left." Jacob spoke, as you watched the traffic out your window and relished the sound of his voice in your ear. 

"It..." You couldn't help it. You couldn't hide it any longer. "It wasn't really her. I quit because of you, Jacob."

"Me? I- I'm sorry I thought we-" He sounded too worried, and you realized you'd spoken a little too cryptically.

"Not because you did anything wrong." You hurried to explain, interrupting his unnecessary apology. "It's me, not you." 

"Is this a break up? I never even got to ask you on a proper date." He laughed a humorless laugh.

"That's the thing." You said. "I like you way more than I should've ever let myself. It's too unprofessional for me to work with you and have these feelings. I'm sorry, I shouldn't even be telling you this. Everyone treats you like a piece of meat, I hate that I-"

"So... what I'm hearing..." Jacob's voice rose a bit as he interrupted you, catching your attention off guard. "Is that I can actually ask you on a proper date? And this doesn't have to be a break up at all."

"Oh! I- wait are you joking?" You blurted, shocked by the tone of his voice and the fact that it seemed like Jacob Elordi was asking you out. 

"I like you too, dummy. I've been doing my damnedest to make that clear. You know I don't just follow every wardrobe artist on Instagram and bring camera men cafe treats. I used my free coffee on you! I'm so sorry it was no good though." 

"It wasn't the worst coffee ever." You smiled, feeling a calm and hopeful buzz wash over you. 

"Well, let me take you on a proper date, for a proper cup of coffee, and talk you back on set." 

"I can date you, or be your makeup artist, but I will not allow myself to do both. I have a very strict moral compass as a working lady." 

"I'll choose the first option then by a long shot." You could hear Jacob's smile in the tone of his voice. You let him ramble a little longer about the day he'd had and how bad he felt that you'd been moved to quit. He asked you to meet him at the cafe across from the set during lunch tomorrow, and you promised you would in fact show up without a doubt this time. 

Fuck finding a new job tomorrow. You were going on an absolute dream date with Jacob. But you were most definitely ordering your own coffee.

[mothandpidgeon]

Making Out to Pablo Honey (virgin!Dieter Bravo x f!reader)

Moth's Masterlist // follow @mothandpidgeon-updates and turn on notifications to stay updated with my fics!

pairing: virgin!Dieter Bravo x f!reader

rating: E MDNI

summary: Dieter’s always tried to be cool. The thing about being cool, though, the more he tries, the less it works. You, on the other hand, you’re cool.

contents: virgin!Dieter, young!Dieter, lots of 90s references, cannabis, mentions of masturbation, fingering, premature ejaculating, one ferris bueller reference, reader is able bodied and not described physically moth never uses y/n.

This fic is about horny teens doing horny teen things. It's not too late to not read this if that's not ok with you.

wc: 2.5k

a/n: I'm thinking of this as a Dieter origin story. I really enjoyed thinking about him before he was the DIETER BRAVO. Anyway, this was kind of healing I wish I knew him back when I was in high school. Thanks @moonlitbirdie and @whocaresstillthelouvre for betaing and cheering me on!

“Sweet or salty?” you ask. Your head is buried in one of the kitchen cabinets, rummaging through a selection of snacks. 

Dieter sits on the counter opposite, watching you with a lazy smile. 

“Sweet,” he says. “No, wait. Salty.”

You look at him over your shoulder, your eyes bloodshot under heavy lids. 

“You’re so stoned,” you giggle. 

Dieter blushes. Despite the fact that he coughs after every hit, getting high with you after school has become his favorite past time. You never tease him for it, just put the joint between your lips while Dieter wonders if you can feel the warmth from his there. You’re both well and truly blazed at this point after smoking up in the dugout of the school's baseball field.

Dieter gazes over your body as you stand on tip toe, reaching for the top shelf. It’s like he can’t control his eyes from wandering to you when he’s like this. Sometimes you notice. 

“What?” you’ll say. “You’re staring at me.”

“You’re paranoid,” he’ll lie. 

He wishes he was brave enough to tell you that he’s staring because he thinks you’re beautiful. 

It’s hard to believe that the two of you are actually friends now. He still remembers when you were assigned as his lab partner, a girl that he was equally drawn to and intimidated by.  

Now he’s in your house after school almost every day. 

“Honey?” your mother’s voice calls from the front door.

“Shit.” Dieter hops onto the floor before she enters the kitchen in a smart business outfit. 

“Oh, hi, Dieter,” she says, smoothing the bottom of her hair. 

“Hello, ma’am,” Dieter says. 

You stifle a laugh. 

“Dieter, you don’t have to call me ma’am,” your mother says.  

“Um okay,” he replies. He can’t remember her first name. She’s told him before. Does he seem stoned? Oh, god, he definitely does. 

She scrunches her nose.

“What’s that smell?” she asks.

Dieter’s stomach plummets. The two of you must reek of pot. He’s grown to like the scent– an earthy tang that now reminds him of you. He braces himself, trying to clear his foggy mind for a moment so he can’t act sober. 

“Somebody must’ve run over a skunk,” you say. “What’re you doing home so early?”

You change the subject so seamlessly. Of course. Nothing ever seems to scare you.

“I’ve got a meeting with the Vermont people but I left the damn file here,” she says, picking a folder up from the kitchen table. “I’ll be back late if we close the deal.”

“Good luck,” you say.

Dieter bursts with laughter as your mother goes out the front door. You join him, nearly doubling over with your giggles. 

“I was freaking out!” he tells you. “A skunk! I can’t believe she bought that.”

“I know, right? She’s clueless,” you chuckle. “Look.” 

You hold up your creation— a plate bursting with flavor and texture. It’s organized into little piles of treats— potato chips, Oreos, a handful of glistening strawberries. Chocolate covered pretzels rest beside dried cranberries and several ropes of licorice separate honey roasted peanuts from fun sized Kit Kats in glossy red wrappers. It’s a feast, every bite he could ever want just when he wants it the most. 

“Fuck,” he whispers as he takes in this offering. 

Maybe it’s the pot buzzing around in his head but he can feel himself falling head over heels for you. He wants to kiss you but what if you don’t want to be kissed? What if you reject him? He could play it off as a joke like the one he told in the biology lab that got you to notice him for the first time. Humiliation he can handle but he’s not sure he could take that heartbreak. 

The cookies are calling his name so he abandons any dreams of filling his mouth with your tongue in favor of a Nutter Butter. 

There’s a big, L shaped couch in the basement that Dieter sprawls out on while he munches on the fruit. They might be the best strawberries he’s ever eaten. Everything tastes so good when he’s high. He wonders what you taste like. 

“Do you like Radiohead?” you ask sorting through a pile of cassettes. 

“Yeah. I love them,” he says. He’s only heard one of their songs on the radio but if you like them, he wants to like them, too. 

Dieter’s always tried to be cool. He has a lot working against him— built like a string bean, a goofy personality. His own fucking name has betrayed him. He got the same haircut as Leonardo DiCaprio, he saved up to buy a pair of fancy sneakers, he spends hours in the mirror carefully choosing his outfits. The thing about being cool, though, the more he tries, the less it works. 

You, on the other hand, you’re cool. Effortlessly so in your black boots and chipped nail polish. It’s not just the music you listen to or the clothes you wear. There’s something in your attitude, an aloof confidence that he’s never been able to replicate. 

Despite his anxieties, you never make him feel judged. It seems like you enjoy introducing him to new things. You offered to make him a mixtape and it sent his heart fluttering. He’s shared a thing or two with you, too— leading you through the aisles of the local video store handing you his favorite obscure movies. Sometimes you laugh at his enthusiasm but it’s never mean spirited. 

You pop the tape in and climb up onto the sofa as rough guitar strums seep through the speakers. There’s something psychedelic in the music that has Dieter sinking deeper into his seat. 

Although there’s plenty of space, you sit alongside him, propping your feet up on the chaise beside his. Dieter’s pulse picks up. He’s so aware of you so close to him, each move of your muscles as you get comfortable. He can smell the pot tangled up in your hair and the fresh scent of cotton that always lingers on your clothes. 

“I like being high,” Dieter sighs. 

You laugh. He fucking loves the sound of it, wants to be a little clown to keep you giggling away.

“Give me a Kit Kat,” you say. 

The snack plate is balanced on Dieter’s lap so when you fish through it for the candy, he can feel the pressure of your touch right on his dick. He stifles a groan, trying to focus his attention on the crinkle of the wrapper in your hands. 

He’s touched himself to the thought of you more times than he’d like to admit. There was an incident when you unexpectedly brushed your ass against him at your locker and he popped a boner. He had to take care of it in the bathroom, one hand cupping the tip of his cock as he came so he didn’t make a mess. 

“Dieter,” you say. His name sounds so sweet when you say it softly like that. 

“Yeah,” he replies. 

Some time in the last fifteen minutes, his mind wandered away and he got lost in the haze of his high. He can’t remember what he was thinking about before you got his attention or how long he’s been out of it. There’s just a warm feeling in his head and every once in a while he remembers that you’re sitting right next to him and he smiles to himself and then he floats away again. 

“You’re staring at me,” you say. 

You’re close, laying on the same couch cushion, your face just inches from his own. You have pretty eyes. Maybe that’s what he’s been looking at. Or your hair. He likes your hair. 

“Yeah,” he says with a sigh. There’s no denying it this time. 

Your lips curl into a smile and your eyes dance over his features. He feels himself leaning towards you like his head is too heavy to fight your magnetic pull. 

Your noses brush, that’s when he realizes that you’re moving towards him, too. Both of you hesitate there, an acknowledgement of this point of no return— your friendship will never be the same. 

You kiss him. At first it’s a cautious meeting of lips and, suddenly, a crash of passion and excitement. It’s sloppy and unchoreographed but the two of you find a rhythm. He can taste the chocolate in your kiss. 

You climb onto his lap, sliding your hands beneath his shirt. Having all of you there, straddling him like he’s in his own wet dream, is overwhelming. Blood rushes to his cock. There’s so much of you to explore— soft places to touch and hold and taste. He wants all of you all at once and you seem just as eager. 

Your mouth roams his neck and teeth rake against his earlobe as you rock over the bulge in his jeans. He’s so sensitive from the weed, he can practically feel the hot drag of your pussy even through the layers between you. 

Dieter fumbles with the clasp of your bra and you knock his hands away to do it for him, then unbutton your pants and do the same for him. He keeps his mouth on yours as you pull off his shirt with eager kisses. 

He slips his fingers beneath the waistband of your panties. He’s met with the slick lips of your pussy giving him a delicious shiver. You gasp and sink your teeth into his bottom lip. 

Now your hand finds him, coating his length with precum and tugging. 

“Oh god,” he chokes. He wills himself not to finish right there in your hand. 

Dieter presses a finger into your entrance, slow and cautious, watching your expression for any signs of discomfort. You’re so tight, he can’t imagine the crush of it around him. The strokes on his cock stutter and slow as he thrusts deeper until eventually your limp hand simply holds him. He doesn’t care.  The feeling of you is addicting, all slippery and inviting. 

“Ow,” you complain. 

“Is this ok?” Dieter asks. 

“Don’t just finger me,” you complain. 

He blanches, unsure of how to correct himself. If you want more, he’s more than willing to give it to you but it has nerves churning in his belly. 

“I’ve never done it,” Dieter says. 

He immediately wishes he could take the words and swallow them back down. His neck burns with embarrassment. The coolest girl he’s ever met is letting him in her pants and he just spoiled it all by admitting he’s a virgin. 

You stare at him with big, round eyes, your lips swollen from kissing. Your adam’s apple bobs in your throat. 

“Me either,” you tell him. 

It’s Dieter’s turn to stare. He’s shocked. It seems like you’ve done everything already. At least, everything a high school senior would aspire to do. 

If you were embarrassed to tell him that, you don’t let it linger for long. “That wasn’t what I meant,” you say. “It just— I don't think I can come that way.”

Dieter nods in awe. This isn’t the first time he’s gone to third base but he hadn’t felt very sure of his technique during those few encounters. You look a little nervous, maybe for the first time ever, but he’s so impressed you’re confident enough to tell him what you want, to even know. He wants to give you exactly what you need. 

“Show me,” he says. “Show me what you like.”

Your pupils blow out and Dieter’s not sure which one of you is more aroused. Eventually you regain yourself, nodding quickly and climbing off of his lap so you can shimmy your pants all the way off. 

Dieter can’t help but stare at all the parts of you that are exposed. You’re so pretty he can hardly believe he gets to touch you. His cock throbs at the sight and he fists himself before realizing that he’d better stop if he wants to last more than half a minute. 

You lay back on the couch, parting your bent legs for Dieter. He sits up for a good view as you explain the secrets of the universe. You take his hand and guide his fingers to your pussy, carefully sliding them along the side of your clit. It’s velvety soft and warm and slick and you take in a sharp breath. His cock jumps. Again, a wet stroke over you. You set a pace, your hand around his as he makes you melt.

“Woah,” he whispers to himself as he watches your body respond. 

He’s not sure where to look; at the glistening lips of your pussy, a rare glimpse at the opposite sex in real life or at your face, eyes closed and brow knit as you float in ecstasy. It’s the sexiest thing he’s ever seen.

He forgets the throbbing between his own legs, entranced by your pleasure. Your grip around his hand slackens and Dieter experiments with slightly faster strokes, kissing your neck. Your pulse thrums under his lips, your whines vibrating. 

As he gathers more slick from your entrance, you grind your clit into the heel of his hand. Your hips lift from the wet patch that’s growing beneath you. Dieter keeps his hand planted on you, giving you all the friction you need. 

He tries to find a way to tell you to use him, to take what you need, but he’s speechless. Watching a girl get off on him, and not just any girl but you, feels like witnessing a miracle. 

Your muscles tighten, every single tendon in your body wrapped up like a rubber band about to snap. He can’t help himself. Dieter slides a finger inside of you. It feels even better than before, now that your walls are coated in that sweet release. 

That’s when it crashes over you. You lock up, your arms and thighs straining. He can feel your core tensing around him desperately and he thinks he might cum just from the sight of you like this. It’s not like he’s seen in porn. You’re quiet, focused, somewhere else and he wants to go there, wherever that planet of pleasure might be. 

He wants to kiss you, to taste your release and bury his face in your tits but he doesn’t dare move and ruin this exquisite moment for you. So he keeps moving with the same steady tempo as you flutter around him. 

You groan out his name, long and slow and it sounds like music. 

Dieter feels his hips jerk and, oh fuck, he’s cumming. He tears his hand away from you to squeeze it over his spasming cock. It’s too late and the wet press of you coated on his fingers doesn’t help. He paints his torso with his own warm, sticky spend. 

You stare, eyes wildly surveying the mess on his belly, still dazed as you come down. 

He should be mortified that he just blew his load all over himself the very first time he’s gotten physical with you but his veins are coursing with bliss. His head falls back, chest heaving as he catches his breath. 

“I really like you,” he says. 

Your face breaks out in a smile and you bashfully bite your lip. He feels your fingers intertwine with his own. 

“Yeah. I like you too,” you say. 

-

Thanks for reading! Reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated and my asks are always open!

[mourningsbane]

Okay this blog and the story has been circulating slowly in my head for days now and I feel like tossing out a theory because I never theorize but here I am

So. Tanglefern’s greatest mistake. I believe that he may have poisoned Honeyspring in some way. If not a direct poisoning, he was at the very least aware of and partially involved in Honeyspring’s rapid death. But I also think he was not aware she was pregnant. I do not know if the kits were not quite right because they were too early in development, some kind of curse stuff, or because of the poison/illness. Either way, it seems Tanglefern wished them no ill will due to the intense despair he felt when the crude surgery (is it surgery if on a corpse?) failed. Another note; I’m not fully sure Tanglefern meant for/wanted them to die. ‘There’s nothing more I can do for you’. And it seems very heavily implied that Rootstar ordered the c-section, which is where the ‘no respect for the dead!’ Line comes in from Bearface. Along with this, I’m like 99% sure Honeyspring and Flaildrizzle were in a romantic relationship and were planning to raise those kits together. Honeyspring looked so soft in her dream, maybe they were trying to look less spooky as to not scare Flaildrizzle?

I do not believe Honeyspring is ‘evil’. She is scared and oh so alone, and is lashing out because of it. She just wants help, as I believe that is what the messed up mouse is huffing at Tanglefern, and potentially Sweetkit too. Tanglefern even wonders why StarClan won’t take them, implying that in life she never did anything evil enough to warrant going to kitty cat hell. At least, not that Tanglefern would know. And, seeing how their mere presence is warping the prey, I think she could have killed Sweetkit if she wanted, but they didn’t.

A very out-there theory is that Honeyspring may have been kept from StarClan because of the rage fuelling the end of her life (towards Tanglefern?). In my opinion, she seems aware that her death wasn’t natural. Their first headshot reference says ‘I will never forgive you’ which I believe is specifically aimed at whoever orchestrated or at least played a part in her death. Her second reference says kind with a question mark in brackets, which means they were at the very least kind in life. Not being able to communicate with anyone, those who see her being terrified, not being allowed into StarClan, they must all tear at their mind and likely their overall stability. I honestly don’t think she’s as malicious as we seem to be getting led to believe.

This may also be me grasping at straws but with the ‘there’s something underneath the ground’ and the description of her disease-reeking blood seeping into the dirt floor I wonder if that’s something. Definitely not I’m reaching but meh it’s fun.

Finally, I’m not fully sure that, whatever Tanglefern’s involvement was, he intended for them to die. ‘Distantly, some raw part of him, carbed open like the body before him, realized it was all for nothing’ now while it’s likely this is just in reference to the c-section, I feel this could also be the fact Honeyspring died and may not have been meant to. There was some kind of plan, I’m just not sure what it was’

Basically a summary I believe Tanglefern had an influence in Honeyspring’s sudden demise but was not aware of the kits, Bearface was NOT happy about the c-section, Flaildrizzle and Honeyspring were a couple and going to raise those kits, Honeyspring wasn’t evil in life but is now losing stability due to being so isolated, and Tanglefern may not have intended Honeyspring to die. I may be super off I am not good at theories and it is very late. But hey. All in good fun.

Anyways giving Honeyspring a big hug I love them and she is spinning around in my brain like a rotisserie chicken 24/7

also omg sorry this got so long i got lowkey rambly here but my brain is going whir because oh my god this is so cool-

Worry not, I do not mind receiving long post! I, too, tend to get rambly when talking about things, so I certainly don't blame you. Plus, I love reading theories! It gives me insight into what people think, and I don't want any lore elements to feel like they came out of nowhere! <3

As for your theories, you are very close! Tanglefern gave Honeyspring Mourningsbane instead of Clottingroot when treating the injury on her hind leg.

Honeyspring and Flaildrizzle were mates, and you're right that Honeyspring tried to look "softer". The time is soon, and Honeyspring didn't want to startle her. Honeyspring is weak and intangible at the moment, but not for long. And you're on the right track with her "disease-reeking blood seeping into the dirt floor"; her rotting body taints the very soil.

I agree that Honeyspring is not a villain in the stereotypical sense! She was very well-liked in life, and had a lot going for her! I would say that she's both a victim and a perpetrator.

[natsukishinomiyaswife]

☀︎ Tsum Lifeguards...? ☀︎

☀︎ Scarabia Lifeguard AU ☀︎ Jamil and Kalim ☀︎ Scenarios ☀︎

No thoughts, just Lifeguard!Kalim and Lifeguard!Jamil as tsums lol ♡ Enjoy! ♡

*Please note that this is non-canon to the series! ♡

When you first came to Iago's Paradise, you didn't expect the lifeguards to be so cute! Small and round, fitting in the palm of your hand. It made you wonder, can a pool really run with plushies as lifeguards? Let's find out! ♡

❂ The cutest little guy, beaming and full of energy. He's dressed similar to his counterpart, a pair of sunglasses on his head and a whistle around his neck. A tsum sized life preserver is strapped to his back, shaped like a parrot (just like Kalim's)

❂ He bounces in his chair when he sees you enter, waving his tiny arm in greeting. He has to stop himself from jumping down to meet you, knowing he has a job to do. That won't stop him from sneaking away when he has the chance though, making sure Jamil has things covered before running off.

❂ If someone's drowning, don't worry! Kalim's tsum has things covered, leaping into the water. He swims over to the person quickly, grabbing onto them and growing in size, floating them out of the pool. He looks them over, making sure they're alright as he waits for Jamil to arrive with the first aid kit. He stays with them, doing his best to provide comfort as Jamil checks their vitals.

❂ You look a bit down today, laying in your sun chair turned away from him. His expression is sad for a moment before perking back up, an idea coming to mind. He bounces off, heading to the Cave of Wonders before rushing over, carrying a cup of your favorite ice cream on his back. He hops onto your sun chair, presenting the ice cream proudly. He hopes it can make your day a bit better, bouncing up to nuzzle your cheek before heading back to work.

❂ The kids love Kalim's tsum, inviting him to play whenever they can. He eagerly accepts every time, jumping in joy as he joins them. He continues to work as he plays, keeping an eye on the kids and making sure they're safe. He hopes that you'll join in as well, squirting you with a water gun before bouncing off ♡

❂ Even though he's a plush toy, he still takes his job seriously, feeling responsible for those who visit. His long hair is down, with a pair of sunglasses on his head and a whistle around his neck (just like his counterpart). He has a tsum sized life preserver strapped to his back, shaped like a snake. Children who visit the pool still refer to him as Mr. Snake (and occasionally as Mr. Tsum, if they're unfamiliar with him)

❂ His eyes wander towards the entrance, waiting for you to show. When you arrive he nods his tiny head in greeting, doing his best to focus on the pool. He can't help but get distracted by your presence though, staring at you throughout the day. When things quiet down, he'll stop by to see you, making sure Kalim has things covered while he's away.

❂ The whistle around his neck isn't a toy, using it when he needs to. Don't worry, he's not upset or angry. He just wants you to be more careful, putting your safety first. If you run you could slip and hurt yourself, or fall into the water. The kids do their best to understand his nonverbal way of communicating, and greatly respect him. They do their best to follow the rules, pleasing the tsum and making his job a little bit easier.

❂ It's a hot day today, the sun shining and the air humid. You've been in the pool for a while, soaking in the water. It's a nice way to cool down, but the tsum noticed you hadn't drank anything for a while, growing concerned for you. He hops down from his chair, going to the cooler before making his way over to you, carrying a cold drink on his back. He blows his whistle, standing near the edge as he signals for you to get out of the pool. Once you were out, he hands you the drink, waiting for you to take a sip before heading back to his chair.

❂ When it's almost time to close, the tsum will indulge you, joining you in the water. He grows in size, allowing you to use him as a pool float, laying on his back. You enjoy each other's company as the sun starts to set, the sky a mix of orange and pink. You'll visit again tomorrow, won't you? ♡

Bonus Scene:

You're laying in the pool, relaxing with the tsums. Your eyes are shut as the sun shines down, enjoying it's warmth in the cool water. You're startled out of your thoughts at the sound of whistles going off, almost turning over in your pool float. You look towards the sound to find Jamil and Kalim, standing near the edge of the pool. They don't look pleased as they stare at their tsums, holding their whistles in their hand. They want some attention too, you know ♡

Series Taglist (If you wish to be tagged, please let me know! ♡):

@crystallizsch, @0honeybones0, @midnightmah07, @cheerleaderman, @selfinserttothestars

@littlepenguinheart, @ven4t1c4l, @hartwyrm, @diodellet, @chaoticnezz

@oreolover321, @stvrbrighttt, @part-sadist, @i-have-a-lot-of-ocs

𝓣𝓱𝓪𝓷𝓴 𝔂𝓸𝓾! ♡

[suashii]

— 𝓀𝒾𝓈𝓈 𝒾𝓉 𝒷𝑒𝓉𝓉𝑒𝓇 ౨ৎ

suo hayato x reader. 865 wc. ﾉ sfw ﾉ fluff ﾉ established relationship ﾉ mentions of injury

knock knock knock.

knuckles bang against your door in a familiar pattern. you can see the culprit in your mind, one arm tucked behind his back, the other no doubt joining it if the sudden silence is any indication. your gaze swaps from your book to the clock on the wall—it’s just about time for him to stroll around.

you untangle your legs from beneath you on the couch and your feet tingle from sitting on them for so long as you pad your way over to the door. a click sound in the entryway when you unlock the barrier, and another when you turn the knob and pull the door open. 

suo stands before you, head tilted, a soft smile pulling the corners of his lips up. seeing him smile, you can’t help but do the same. he straightens his head and brings his hand up in a wave, his lips part to speak. “good eve—”

“oh my god, what happened to your face?” you hadn’t noticed it earlier—a tuft of dark hair must have concealed it—but there’s a cut on suo’s face, right on his cheekbone. it’s small, probably a nick from a ring that caught him, but you’ve never once seen suo injured. the skin around the bright red scrape is a duller hue as it begins to bruise. the sight isn’t all that bad but you still find yourself frowning.

“huh?” suo’s eyes widen at your interruption. he follows your concerned stare, hand lifting to where your eyes haven’t moved from. the skin beneath his fingers throbs with his touch. it’s not painful, just brings attention to something he had long since forgotten about. “oh, this? it’s nothing, just a scratch.”

“sure it is—until it gets infected or leaves a scar.” you take his hand in yours and pull him inside the apartment, closing the door behind the both of you. you point to your dining area. “go sit at the table.”

“ooh, are we playing doctor?” suo asks, carefully stepping out of his shoes before making his way to your modest sitting area. you give him a playful slap on the shoulder as you pass by him to the kitchen, earning a short chuckle from the man in the eyepatch.

you quickly wash your hands and pull out the first aid kit you keep in one of your cupboards, joining suo at your two-person table. you drag the chair closer to his and plop down in the seat before unzipping the kit you bought when you first moved in yet have only used enough to keep count on one hand. 

you never could have imagined you’d be pulling it out for suo.

you’ve seen him after his fair share of fights and he always comes back unscathed. if you hadn’t witnessed one of his brawls yourself, you’d question if he even fought at all. it makes you wonder what was different this time around.

“what happened?” you ask, gently dabbing the cut with a wet washcloth. your eyes drift up to his and he looks just as unbothered as usual. he doesn’t really have reason to be bothered, you suppose. his injury is superficial at most, but that doesn’t stop you from being worried. “someone actually hit you?”

“i was just caught off guard is all,” he tells you as you smooth a thin layer of ointment over the wound. it’s cool against his skin but the heat from your finger soon permeates the salve—he thinks he prefers your warmth. 

a simple cut doesn’t deserve such tender care, though suo accepts it happily. it’s not often that the hands he’s met with are so gentle. no need to dodge or duck or evade—he simply lets the softness of your fingers tend to him. it’s greedy and he knows it, but he could certainly get used to this.

“maybe i should let my guard down more often,” he suggests, watching you peel off the coated backing of a bandaid. you level him with an unapproving look as you stick the bandage over his cut. “if it means you’ll be taking care of me, that is.”

“don’t even think about it.” as cute as he looks with a sanrio bandaid taped to his cheek, this cannot become a regular occurrence. you aren’t sure you can handle anything more than the little laceration. “a tiny cut was scary enough.”

“hey, didn’t i already tell you it was nothing?” he reaches out to pinch your cheek and while your lips poke out in a pout, his turn up in a grin. who would have thought you’d get so worked up over something so insignificant? it’s practically a paper cut in suo’s eyes. though, if the sight of him injured—even a minor scrape like this—is enough to make you so uneasy, he’ll be sure it never happens again.

“no more showing up on your doorstep wounded,” suo tells you, and your pout disappears, replaced by a relieved smile. “but…”

“but what?” you ask, eyebrows raising curiously.

“i think you forgot an important component of my care plan,” he explains matter-of-factly. 

“and what’s that?”

he points to his bandaged cut. “you didn’t kiss it better, doctor.”

thanks for reading! reblogs and comments are super appreciated :3

[aayakashii]

could you feed us lyca simps?

I hope you don't mind the little slice of life fluff I ended up writing for this request, I just think he's too cute for his own good (๑•́ ᎔ ก̀๑) and thanks for the request!!

neapolitan

Warnings: none. Just tooth rotting fluff and slice of life. Lyca knowing nothing about the world, while MC holds his hand to introduce him to the fun things of life.

“You know you don't have to follow me right now, right? I'm just going to the store to restock my first aid kit…” you say, sighing in defeat, as you side-eye the tall boy prancing right beside you, almost attached to your hip.

Lyca puffs his chest, a small pout appearing under his sharp fangs.

“No, I have to! I don't trust that shop man. He is weird… He looks at you weird!”

Well… You couldn't quite deny that fact.

“But don't you have homework from Professor Moby?”

“Who is that again? You know I don't remember their names” Lyca asks, scrunching his brows and scratching his head, as if he was searching his brain for the right face to attach to the name.

“Professor squirmy” you suppress a smile as you use Lyca's nickname for the eldritch teacher.

“Oh! I have already done all my homework from his class, though?”

“Really?” you look at him with widened eyes “That's very responsible of you, Lyca. That's great!” you smile, giving him two thumbs up.

You do wonder how he managed to finish it all so quickly, since he had difficulty reading harder kanjis, but you just chalk it up to Subaru helping him out without your knowledge.

He huffs, cheeks just a little bit rosy.

“Of course! That's nothing for someone like me. I'm gonna be an exemp… exemp… eggs-emm-puh-larry… member of human society!” Lyca says, slapping his own chest with a loud thud.

“An exemplary member of human society, right?” you repeat his words, more fluently than him, so he can hear how it's usually pronounced.

“That's what I said.” he mumbles and pushes the door to Darkwick's local store open, pointing to the inside of the dimly lit shop “You first.”

You widen your eyes once again, and chuckle.

“Wait, when did you learn to be so gentlemanly?” you say, as you walk through the door with him right after you.

“The blonde gigolo has been teaching me some things. He says being a gen-tle-man would make people respect me more.”

You nod at his words right as the door closes loudly behind him, the chime bell slamming against the door frame.

Okay, well. Maybe he still needs a bit of practice.

You wince at the loud sound, but after just a few seconds, you immediately relax, feeling the cool air inside the store hit your body. The fragrant scent of pastries being displayed inside a small shelf and the gentleness of the low lights also lull you into a sense of tranquility.

It seems like the effect is the same on Lyca, because you see the way his shoulders slump a little bit and how his grumpy face gives way to an eased expression.

You decide to browse through the shelves for a bit, absentmindedly, before getting your supplies. Lyca stood close, his nose sniffing every little thing you pointed out.

After a lot of explaining about products (No, Lyca, you cannot eat tide pods, those are for washing clothes. Yes, Lyca, you can actually eat hard candy, they aren't made for biting though. No, Lyca, just because tide pods and hard candy look similar, doesn't mean they're the same thing), you grab all your needed supplies and make your way to the cashier.

Thinking hard about how to keep Lyca from growling at the shopkeeper, you barely notice how the werewolf walks towards a small freezer a few steps to the side of the cash register. You finish paying when you hear his voice calling at you.

“Hey! Hey! What's this?” he points to the inside of the freezer and you walk to his side, his hands instinctively grabbing your bags so he could carry them for you.

“Those are ice cream pots.” you look at the multi colored labels that advertised a small range of different flavors. “Have you ever eaten ice cream, Lyca?”

“What's that?” he looks inquisitively at the small containers.

“It's a type of frozen sweet. It has lots of flavors and it's usually eaten when it's hot outside.”

He hums, still staring at the pots.

“Do you like sweets, Lyca?”

“Hmm, not really…”

“Oh, I see...”

“But! It's, um. It's hot outside, right?” he replies quickly, looking at you expectantly.

You smile to yourself, thinking about how his tail would probably be wagging if it was out right now.

“That's true, it's very hot outside. I think ice cream sounds great right now, what do you think?”

“I- I agree! Of course.” he huffs, as if he wasn't almost hopping with joy at the idea.

You chuckle and open the freezer, grabbing a small pot for the both of you. After paying for the frozen treat and grabbing two spoons, you two go out into the merciless heat of Darkwick's campus.

“Okay, so.” you sit under a huge tree overlooking a lake, hiding from the sun rays under the cool shade, and grab the ice cream pot.

Lyca sits right next to you, back straight as a plank, paying full attention to you and the mysterious treat you bought.

“I bought this one because it has three of the most classic flavors, and since you never ate ice cream, I figured you should taste the most common ones first. It's called neapolitan.” you explain, opening the lid and giving him a spoon “It's vanilla, strawberry and chocolate”

His eyes sparkle, looking at the frozen sweet. Your eyes widen as you see his wolf ears and tail pop out instinctively, but you choose not to mention it.

“Oohh! It looks good! Which one should I try first?” he asks, tail sweeping the grass under him.

“You can try whichever you want. Go crazy!”

You immediately regret your words as he shoves his spoon deep into the ice cream, grabbing more than one flavor, and eating a huge spoonful in one go.

“Ugh!! My head!!” he yells after a little while, clawing at his own forehead.

“Lyca! You can't eat cold things so quickly, you'll get brain freeze” you scold him, rolling your eyes.

“Well, tell me that sooner!” he groans, still holding his head, eyes shut tight.

“You're supposed to know that instinctively!”

He grunts, shaking his head as the sharp pain disappears slowly.

“Grab just one flavor at a time for now, so you can see which one you like more. Then you can mix everything. Like this” you say as you scoop a bit of strawberry ice cream into your spoon and eat it.

He mimics your action, scooping a bit of vanilla ice cream first.

Lyca's face falls as he smacks his lips repeatedly, tasting the ice cream.

“It's not that big of a deal.” he says, visibly disappointed.

“That's okay, now try the pink one.”

He does as you say and immediately scrunches his face.

“Uwah! That's awful! I don't want to eat it!”

You sigh, thinking about how Lyca seems more like a werecat than a werewolf at times.

“That's fine, it's just your personal taste. Now try the brown one. It's chocolate.”

Lyca hesitates, not really trusting your words after the previous experiences, but scoops a bit of chocolate ice cream either way. As soon as he eats the treat, his ears and tail perk up.

“Ohhh!!! This one is good!!” He yells, tail wagging a thousand miles per hour and eyes sparkling as he scoops a huge amount of chocolate ice cream again.

“Careful, or you're gonna get brain freeze again!” You scold him, but immediately give up, sighing and smiling at the sight of him happily smearing chocolate onto his face, like a big baby.

“I like the brown one mixed with the white-ish yellow-ish one! The pink one is gross though!” He says grabbing the ice cream with his hands, spoon immediately forgotten.

“Ah, Lyca! You're not supposed to eat it with your hands! You'll get all dirty…” you fret, afraid he'll get his uniform stained once again.

“But it's better this way, because I can feel how cold it is with my hands. You humans are so weird with all your rules…” he grumbles.

You sigh, as he pouts and licks his hands clean, grumpiness fully back.

“You have to learn these rules to become human though? But…” you trail off and he looks at you as you rummage through your pockets, fishing out a handkerchief.

You hold his cheek, wiping his face clean, ignoring the little blush that tinted his face as you got closer.

“But as long as it's just us, you can eat however you want. Just don't do it in public. And don't tell Rui I said this! He thinks I spoil you way too much. Deal?”

Lyca looks away, clearing his throat that suddenly got parched, despite all the ice cream he had just eaten.

“Hmpft. D-deal.”

[calmcoldevening]

Slashers x suicidal!reader

TW: suicidal thoughts, mention of blood, suicide, self harm, explicit suicide

Characters: Jason Voorhees, Michael Myers, Thomas Hewitt, Vincent Sinclair

I wrote this for people who have had suicide attempts or still have suicidal thoughts. honey, you are not alone, if you have such a problem, then please talk to someone from your loved ones about it or visit a psychologist. your health and life are important ♡ at least let's talk about it together, you're wonderful

Ps: sorry for misspels, English is not my native language

Jason Voorhees

• Jason spent most of the day making his rounds around the camp. In the morning, he gently kissed you on the forehead, removing the strands of hair stuck to your skin wet from the summer heat, and mumbled contentedly, enjoying your calm expression.

• This day was not distinguished by anything special. It was the middle of July, so it was quite hot both outside and in the cabins. Knowing that you are certainly suffering from such hot weather, Jason decided to offer you to go to the lake. And although he wasn't a fan of the idea himself, the cool water should have made you feel a little better.

• Jason enters the house and stops awkwardly. Usually at this time you were sitting in the living room and reading one of the new magazines or books that he found for you. You weren't in the bedroom either. The man was seriously scared, fearing the worst.

• Finally, he notices the light pouring from behind the bathroom door and freezes right in the doorway. You were lying almost up to your neck in the reddening water. His bloody knife was lying on the floor.

• Jason is seized with instant panic. At first, he thinks that it could have been done by one of the violators, whom he simply did not notice during his morning rounds. But then in his aching head there are memories of your repeated jokes about death and strange behavior. God, he was so blind.

• Jason gently pulls you out of the water. Your eyes are closed and your body is very cold and pale. The man quickly carries you into the bedroom, completely oblivious to your blood covering all his clothes.

• He checks all the lockers in your shared bedroom, hoping to find one of your small first aid kits. Finally he finds it. The man clumsily bandages your wounds on your arms and stomach, then covering the throbbing flesh with anxious kisses.

• Tears flow down his cheeks as he squeezes your palm in his hands and makes painful sounds. Jason climbs onto the bed and pulls you into his arms along with a warm blanket, hoping to warm your unconscious body.

• He was such a fool not to notice your obvious pain and suffering. Was it that bad for you? Why didn't you tell him about it? Jason could have helped, he would have tried! It will be so bad for him if you are gone...

• The man noticed how your face twisted and you opened your eyes slightly, squinting from the bright light. He was so glad you woke up! Jason gently ran the thumb of his free hand over your cheek, wiping away the already dried tears. He held you as close to him as possible, his excited breath tickled your ear. Don't leave him. Never.

• A hoarse breath escapes from your chest as Jason babbles incoherent sounds of relief. When you fully recover, he relaxes his grip on your body, giving you the opportunity to move, and tilts his head to the side. Why did you do that? Still weak, you shyly look away. You probably didn't think it would turn out that way, he came too early. But deep down you wanted and hoped that he would save you. You awkwardly squeeze the edge of the blanket, stilling sobs. Jason covers your hand with his palm, drawing your attention. He obviously wants to tell you something.

• Index finger at himself. Then at you. His palm touches his lips, and then covers his heart.

Michael Myers

• Michael was out hunting. He usually returned early in the morning, but today Haddonfield was surprisingly quiet, so the man decided to return home a little earlier. After all, you should have been asleep a long time ago, so his earlier return won't be anything special.

• Michael came in through the back door. He took off his dirty shoes, leaving it on the doorstep. You've never been thrilled when you found bloody footprints all over your house in the morning. The man went into the kitchen, intending to get something to eat before he went to bed. The choice was made on a can of lemonade and a pack of chocolates that you bought especially for him not so long ago. Michael rolled up the edge of the mask on the way to the living room and began to eat sweets.

• An instant icy shiver went through his body when he saw you in the living room, hanging in a noose. The food flew out of Michael's hands as he pulled a bloody knife out of his pocket and yanked the rope. The man gently picks up your limp body, pressing it to his chest. He tries to act quickly.

• Smiths Grove has never said anything about rescuing sufferers of asphyxia, but Michael is knowledgeable enough about the abilities of the human body to help. He puts your feet on his knees, gently laying your head on the floor, and wraps his palm around your neck, reddened from the rope. There will be a bruise. The man feels a barely perceptible pulse. For the first time, the whispers in his head fell silent, leaving behind only an unaccustomed painful silence.

• Michael clumsily touches his lips to yours, hoping to do something similar to artificial respiration.

• His body relaxes when your mouth begins to swallow air quickly and superficially on its own, returning your lungs to working condition.

• Michael would be angry if it was another person he was trying to kill. But now he's ready to cry with happiness, watching your eyes slowly open.

• The man jerks up your body, knocking the last air out of your lungs, and presses you to him. He kisses your neck, and you feel warm liquid trickling down your skin. He was crying. The shape of Haddonfield was crying because of you. Michael was afraid of losing you forever.

• "Don't leave," he whispers into your neck, desperately clutching the fabric of your clothes in his fists, "Please."

• The mask has been dropped and is lying on the floor, and now you can see his trembling features. A man runs his palm over your face. For him, you are the most precious thing in this world, even if he didn't say it out loud. You are the first person who made his heart beat faster not because of a desire to kill, but because of a warm tickling feeling in his chest. Love. Michael loved you. For real.

Thomas Hewitt

• It was a particularly quiet day. New tourists were not expected in the next two weeks, until the weather outside the window becomes more favorable; Luda, along with Charlie and Monty, went to distant relatives to celebrate the upcoming holidays, and Thomas spent the whole day in the basement, trying to restore order there.

• And although the man was already pretty tired from work, he still couldn't go upstairs to hug you and spend time together. He has too much to do before his mother and uncles return. Although he was scared by the fact that you've been avoiding him for the last few days. You seemed more closed and scared, as if you were afraid even of your own shadow. You often skipped meals, although Thomas didn't notice that you were against their "special food" before. You were pale and nervous, but he couldn't understand what was happening to you. To all his questions, you refused and said that everything was fine. He was afraid to put pressure on you.

• But it was too quiet upstairs right now. If earlier it was possible to hear your rare quiet footsteps on the old creaking floor, now there was a tense silence in the air. It bothered Thomas.

• Would it be so bad if he left work for a while to check on you?

• The man wiped his hands on a towel lying on the workbench and wandered towards the stairs. The old floorboards screamed, cutting through the silence pressing on the temples like blades. Thomas walked around the entire first floor when, going up the stairs, he heard your quiet sobs. He instantly rushed into your bedroom, from which the noise was coming. The man forcefully opens the door; the tree thuds against the concrete wall.

• You were sitting on the bed, clutching the knife tightly in your hand. Your free hand was like a piece of naked flesh, as if you were one of the victims. Blood was quickly flowing out of your fresh wound, staining your clothes and sheets. Your face was red, and streams of tears were running down your cheeks.

• The man's lips trembled, his eyes ran in disbelief over your shrinking being. Thomas approaches you quickly, cautiously, holding out his hand to you. He touches your trembling shoulder, pulling you to him as gently as possible. With one hand, he buries himself in your wet hair at the back of your head, while with the other, as carefully as possible, he snatches the knife out of your hands. You cry loudly, as if coming to your senses, and bite your nails into his broad back. Thomas wraps his hands around your face, gently running his thumbs over your cheeks. His heart hurts. Why did you want to do this? Is it because of him? Has someone offended you? Why didn't he notice how desperate you were all this time? This strange behavior, lack of mood and apathy, it was all for a reason.

• Thomas picks you up under your knees in wedding style and carries you to the bathroom, intending to treat your wounds. You were the real sun in his life, you accepted him and loved him despite his disgusting appearance, you were one of the few who accepted him for who he is. But he didn't do the same for you. You were suffering, and he preferred not to interfere with your thoughts, for fear of harming you even more.

• The man was carefully watching you and your tired eyes from what happened, wrapping your left forearm with a thick layer of bandages. Thomas gently runs his finger over your swollen cheeks, removing wet strands from your skin.

• Finally, he gently takes your healthy palm and draws a question mark, asking why you would like to do this. You were silent. He frowns, but nods knowingly. He'll ask a little later, you need to rest. Thomas draws a small heart and kisses the inside of your palm, and then kisses each finger. He wants you to know that he really loves you and is ready to help. You're not alone.

Vincent Sinclair

• Vincent started paying more attention to your behavior. You became more distant and silent, you were constantly in your thoughts, sometimes even at moments when one of brothers was talking to you.

• Did he upset you in some way? Or maybe you feel bad because of Bo's harsh comments?

• You often locked yourself in the bathroom or in your shared bedroom while the man was working in the basement. It bothered him. It was as if you were withering right before his eyes, dissolving in his arms.

• Vincent didn't know how best to talk to you about it, after all, expressing his own thoughts is not his strong suit. But he wanted to help you. One day, when you looked particularly drooping, he returned to the bedroom a little earlier than usual, hoping to talk to you. What was his surprise when he found you with a blade in your hands. You sat on the edge of the bed, biting your lip, and left slow deep cuts on your body.

• The man quickly ran up to you, snatching the bloody object from your hands and threw it into another part of the room. His gaze trembled, wandering over your wounded flesh. Thousands of painful thoughts raced through his head as he slowly knelt down in front of you, wrapping his hands around your hands and gently stroking the back side.

• Vincent wanted to show you how much he cares about you, how much he loves you. His heart ached when he saw your tears mixed with your own blood.

• Water gushed out of your eyes when you poured out all that pain accumulated in your chest, allowing yourself to cry. Your body was shaking and hurting. Vincent put his arm around you, gently stroking your back and trying to calm your sobs.

• You have him. You don't have to deal with all the pain alone. Vincent knows how strong you are, but that doesn't mean you have to keep all the problems to yourself. He wants to help.

• The man pushed the mask off his face, exposing his lips, and slowly began to cover your face and neck with kisses, trying to take away your pain. You were his only ray of light in this pitch darkness, and he won't let you fade away. He loves you.

[whalesforhands]

the first-years of jujutsu high! (satosugu x reader)

warnings: yuuji just doesn’t understand how relationship dynamics work, fluff, mistaken cheating, teacher! geto and gojo (+haibara)

Itadori Yuuji thinks that he fares quite well with his classmates despite being the new kid within the Jujutsu High campus. He thinks himself someone easy to get along with; and quite the sociable person.

But what does he think of his own classmates?

He thinks Nanako treats him quite well. Boisterous, loud, girly and quite the chatty trend follower. Someone that Kugisaki had clicked with almost immediately.

“That’s what you call style? You gotta be kidding me, Yuu-kun.” Her eyes squint as she stands next to Nobara, the train doors closing behind him as he faces equally unimpressed gazes, their arms crossed over their chests as matching charms on their bags jingle with every movement. “No wonder Nobara-chan thinks you need to go shopping.” He feels arms hook around one of his as he’s dragged forth; the glittering of the streetwear shops suddenly all too much. “Let’s get you that city-boy charm!”

“What’s wrong with the way I dress?!”

He thinks her twin is a little… Odd. Unsettling, a little scary, quiet… But nice. Almost similar to Fushiguro.

“Itadori Yuuji! I hope to get along with you!” A bright grin and polite hand stuck out for a handshake! The shine of his smile and the friendly demeanour of a highschool boy!

He watches as she squeezes the stitch-filled plush closer to her body, stroking its head as blank brown eyes look him up and down, a slightly ominous aura emanating off of her as he feels a certain chill up his spine.

(That’s just the wind… Right? It’s uncharacteristically chilly in here all of a sudden…)

“I… See.” She finally takes his hand as the head of her doll lolls perfectly to the side to meet his surreptitious gaze, causing him to gulp nervously as he feels tingles spidering up his back.. “I’m pleased to make your acquaintance…”

Of course, he loves the teachers here! Someone would’ve have needed the coldest, most treacherous of hearts to hate them!

“Haibara-sensei, you’re so cool!” Excited rambling as he laid on the ground, bruises littering his body and watching with glittering eyes as said teacher grins victoriously down at him. “I thought I had you cornered when I was about to kick, but then you grabbed my leg and it went WHOOSH! BAAAAM!”

“Ahaha! Well, train up and eat rice daily! And soon you’ll be just as strong, Itadori-kun!” A resounding laughter from his chest as hands are placed upon his hips, turning his body to face the rest of the groaning first-years. “Lesson 3! Expect the unexpected, even when you think you have the upperhand!”

“Fuck! There’s a crack in my nail…!”

“Take the nail repair kit in my room later, Nobara-chan…” Nanako is absolutely exhausted with her back against an equally fatigued Mimiko groaning in pain. “I can’t believe he took all of us on when we surprised him like that…” A shiver up her spine at the memory of getting humbled so quick…

“Shut up, all of you…” Megumi fares no better as he grits his teeth, hands on his knees as he finally gets back on his feet. “As if a beat-down isn’t bad enough already…”

“Don’t be so rude, Gumi…” Mimiko’s pained moans reach the annoyed boy’s ears as he waves her off.

“I still can’t believe Fushiguro lets you call him Gumi.”

“There, there kids! Enough complaining, time to get yourselves over to Nanami-sensei’s class!”

Itadori Yuuji thinks that his teachers are wonderful people, the best around. But— Something has been weighing heavy on his mind, a trouble that he has issues coming to terms with. He can’t tell Fushiguro, can he? He can’t tell the twins— Or even Kugisaki. A secret that twinges and shrouds him in panic and worry.

“Hmm? Yuuji-kun, you don’t seem to be eating much today.” The happy tilt of your head, the innocent smile on your face as you greet the first-year in the cafeteria.

“Guh!” He nearly chokes on his food in fear when he hears your voice, his heart rate shooting up as his palms clam, fear and guilt flashing in his eyes as he starts to cough.

He feels you start patting his back vigorously with surprising strength. “Yuuji? Yuuji?! Are you okay?!”

How does he tell you, his lovely teacher— That he saw your husband cheating on you with the Geto Suguru?!

“Ehhh? No kaifuku mochi?” There’s a pout on his face, the blindfold sliding down to stare at the man.

He’s never seen Gojo-sensei so… Needy with someone else other than you before.

“I’m sorry, Satoru. They were all out at the store.”An apologetic kiss is planted on Gojo’s cheek to soften the pout on his face. “I’ll get it next time, okay? My spoiled prince.”

“Hmph! I want another kiss to make up for it.”

Oh no. Oh no oh no oh no oh no…

He’s seen it before, the matching rings you and Gojo-sensei donned— Shiny circles that glinted every so often when catching against the light. Ah— And with how often the man likes to drop by the class to pick you up. What a lovely gentleman, as expected of someone deserving of you… Had it not been for his serious adultery?!

Oh, how this guilt eats him up every time you smile at him…

——

It all comes crashing down one day. Days of pulling at his hair, pounding at his own chest and nervous biting of his nails all finally comes to an end.

“Itadori.” The classroom is dark, left only with the two as tree branches tap against the windows.

He’s never heard Nobara so serious before, her elbows on her desk and her hands placed together as her eyes glint dangerously, fingers tapping against each other.

“(name)-sensei… Is being two-timed.” She clenches her fists, irate anger coursing through her. Just how dare that slimy, sneaky man cheat on you? Just where did he get that audacity from?!

“Woah, Kugisaki, you noticed too?!” He thought he was doomed, cursed with this knowledge to bear upon his shoulders forever, hands slamming down onto her desk and hopeful eyes finally happy to see a like-minded individual!

“That’s right. And I can’t stand it anymore…”

A knowing look is exchanged between the two as the air tenses, a nod exchanged between them as their throats tightened, finally unveilingtheir cards.

“Gojo-sensei is cheating on her!”

“Geto-sensei is a cheat!”

Silence.

…

…eh?

“WHAT?! HAVE YOU NOT SEEN THE RING MATCHING WITH GETO-SENSEI’S NECKLACE?”

“HUH?! THAT RING IS MATCHING WITH THE ONE ON GOJO-SENSEI’S FINGER!”

“HAH? GET SERIOUS ALREADY!” Furious irritation as her eye twitches, flashing her teeth at him. “NO WAY THAT OLD MAN CAN GET SOMEONE LIKE (NAME)-SENSEI!”

“GOJO-SENSEI IS HANDSOME AND RICH! HE BUYS US SUSHI ALL TIME!”

“What does sushi have to do with—?!”

The door is slid open. Mimiko.

“…why are you both yelling?”

——

“You shouldn’t be carrying all those papers yourself.” The weight is immediately lifted off of your arms before you can blink, your senses picking up on a familiar; darker energy.

“Suguru, welcome back.” Your head tilts up to face him, the stack of papers being held in one of his arms as his hand is freed to go up to your cheek.

A thumb slowly grazes over your skin as you smile, happy to see your husband back after one of his missions.

“Hmm,” You watch him as his eyes smile down at you, mischief in the quirked up corners of his lips. “Is that all I’m getting?” He was honestly hoping for more. “I risked my life out there, you know?”

“Of course not.” How overdramatic. There’s the slight tiptoe of your feet, and a quick peck to his jaw before you pull away.

“Oooh, exchanging PDA on school grounds? Scandalous!” A burst of cursed energy invades your senses, blinding hot and white.

You feel long arms settle around both you and the long-haired man, pulling you both closer together towards another, sneaky hand settling themselves on your lower back.

“Hello, darlings! Dinner is still on tonight, by the way! At that restaurant Nanako wanted to go to.”

You hear a sigh.

“Isn’t there a need for you to report using your powers on school grounds, Satoru?” A quirk of his brow as he simply lets it happen, feeling the man play and twirl with a strand of his long hair.

“I hope you don’t get in trouble for doing that…” A pat to your head as you hear a scoff.

“Pfft— Me? In trouble? What are they gonna do? Put me in Satoru jail? Anyway—“ You see his lips pucker up as they lean in towards the both of you, with index fingers pointing at the corner of his lips with a rather cute grin on his face.

“My ‘see-you-later Satoru kiss’, please! I got a meeting with Yaga and needa top up on some energy!”

From behind a wall, three faces peek on.

“See?” Mimiko’s stare is deadpan as she watches the jaw of one of her classmates drop impossibly further to the ground as the other just stares confusedly.

“N-no way! Are you sure she isn’t being hypnotized?! Held hostage?!”

“Please do not speak of Geto-sensei that way. The other one, however—“

“Eh? So (name)-sensei, Geto-sensei and Gojo-sensei are all… Together?”

“For the last time, Yuuji-kun… Yes.”

“Uhh… Eh? Sorry, Mimiko— Could you explain it one more time?”

Sigh.

KOFI bonus scenes!

masterlist