#that does not get nice natural light

[lesbianjudasiscariot]

the mystery poster i got!!!

[annefic]

Do you think Anne is a pilates girlie? I think she'd love it but would hate group fitness classes like Soulcycle (and the hype around them)

I think Anne is a horse girlie who cannot physically make herself sit still for more than five minutes at a stretch

[andragoras-in-vanity]

ive gotten new perfume samples since the only perfume ive found that smells like "me" is either 200$ at lush or a bottle of juniper essential oil, and i dont think ive found my scent yet but holy balls i smell like true love rn. peonies and roses and the tenth date where its official and your happy but sex isnt new or anxious. i smell like pink lingerie.

nature wants what i have, real flowers could never. i smell like hickies and honey.

[the-acid-pear]

Need to finish my Dave design so I can draw him with Mori

[crescentmp3]

hiii! 'tis me.

[youssefguedira]

the other thing about vanya (hi yes i'm still here will be so for a while) is the sheer whiplash you get while watching it like. there is an element of this in fleabag but that is at least consistent because it is 1 person. vanya is like 1 character (andrew scott) will walk off stage and immediately another character (andrew scott) will walk on. someone else (andrew scott) will be crying and singing and then immediately get interrupted by 2 other people (andrew scott and his friend andrew scott) and we switch right back to comedy. earlier in the play ivan (andrew scott) walks in on two other characters kissing / abt to have sex (andrew scott, and andrew scott). and this all happens so fuckin fast the switches aren't even noticeable sometimes. once more with feeling: WHAT the fuck

[mithrun-house-of-kerensil]

Lately, I've been thinking about Mithrun and the ways he is dehumanized in canon.

Before I get started, we know that elven society is incredibly afraid of death and illness. This is obvious in how they look down on the short lived races and see them as weak and childlike. We also know that Mithrun himself had ableist views toward his brother and these values did not leave him once he, himself, became disabled. He is a product of the society that raised him, but I also think how Mithrun is currently being treated contributes to his view of himself.

Mithrun has had three different caretaking groups over the years. The first are the ones his brother hired for him. From what we can see, they did the job, but we can understand that they did not know what to do with him. No one had ever recovered from having their desires eaten so the focus was less on rehabilitation and more on keeping him alive.

Later we see Milsiril take an interest in him because of his desire to return to the dungeon. Since she did not bother to visit him for decades after finding him, we can assume that there is an ulterior motive here. Timeline-wise, this was when the majority of the canaries had just been wiped out. They needed more men, and Mithrun is set up to be the perfect single-focused soldier.

Honestly, we can assume that Milsiril doesn't really care about him or see him as a person. Mithrun is just a new project for her to play with. We can see this in how she's focused on superficial level concerns like the fact that he doesn't look nice and wanting him to be overly grateful toward her. She also talks about him like he's not in the room and can't hear her. This is a dehumanizing trait shared by many characters when talking about Mithrun.

When he finally does recover enough to return to the canaries, the military does not make any effort to accommodate his needs. We know the canaries are understaffed and the ethics are already bad, but they really did not even try to care about Mithrun's safety at all.

Entrusting a criminal with his care was questionable at best, especially when Cithis immediately took the opportunity to abuse her power over him and no one stopped her.

While acknowledging the light-hearted nature of the manga, it's uncomfortable that Mithrun was treated like a child and an animal by Cithis for her amusement. Regardless of her 'learning to respect him' later, the point is that Mithrun was taken advantage of and degraded because she believed he couldn't say no. No one bothered to do anything about this until Pattadol yelled at her.

Truly his treatment is summarized well by Milsiril here. Mithrun is extremely vulnerable to being abused by those taking care of him because he won't advocate for himself. He has one desire so he won't fight for himself in any other way.

It is obvious that Mithrun was not treated well by his caretakers and this has resulted in him identifying his needs through a disconnected and frankly, infantilizing lens.

I understand that it may have been a translator's decision, but I always thought it was interesting that Mithrun says that he's "not sleepy" which is a childish term. Otherwise, he speaks like everyone else, if not rather posh.

This, followed by the fact that he is responsive to Kabru treating him like a literal infant to get him to eat, paints a clear picture of the fact that Mithrun is not unfamiliar with being treated like this. He responds to it because he's used to it and has no desire to argue with being treated this way. When we consider the fact that the chapter started with Milsiril treating an older child Kabru in the same way, it is likely that she also did the same thing to Mithrun when he was under her care.

In these panels, we see that Mithrun does not believe that he can sleep without magical assistance, even though it is immediately refuted when Kabru takes the time to bundle him up and help him relax. Not only does he fully believe he can't sleep without external assistance, but he states directly that there is no point in him getting comfortable.

As Kabru observes, Mithrun's inability to recognize his needs applies to needs such as hunger and exhaustion, but it obviously also applies to emotional needs. Kabru just wanting to feed him something delicious and not wanting him to give up on life is the most consideration someone has given Mithrun in years.

The relationship they form over the course of a single week is enough to shape Mithrun's behaviour completely. Mithrun ignores Cithis's demand in favour of asking Kabru's opinion. It is Kabru's hand Mithrun takes to pull him out of his defeated state. It is Kabru Mithrun confessed his true desire to.

Do you realize how depressing that is? All it took was the new perspectives from Kabru and Senshi to make him consider the fact that he should keep living despite no longer needing to fulfill his duty. Being treated well could have helped Mithrun much sooner and this shift in the way he sees himself contributes to his recovery going forward.

TLDR: Mithrun has no desire to be respected, but why does that make people feel comfortable acting like he doesn't deserve it? Someone not caring about being treated well doesn't give you permission to treat them poorly. This feels like a playschool-level consent lesson: just because he's not saying no to a humiliating or degrading act doesn't mean it's a yes and therefore okay to do. Acknowledging this is the bare minimum of treating him as a person.

[tender-rosiey]

kneel — gojo satoru x f!reader

a/n: more utterly devoted gojo? sign me up

you and satoru stroll side by side, the usual banter flowing easily between the two of you. it’s been a relatively calm day—an unusual but welcome change from the usual whirlwind of sorcerer duties and school life.

both of you savor this rare moment of tranquility together.

as you pass the rows of neatly trimmed hedges, satoru suddenly chuckles to himself, a broad grin spreading across his face.

the sound of his laughter is light and carefree. you raise an eyebrow, curiosity piqued, "what’s so funny?" you ask, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

he turns his head to glance at you, his eyes glinting mischievously behind his signature blindfold, "y’know, I realized something recently," he says, his tone casual, almost teasing.

you hum in response, waiting for the punchline of whatever random thought has captured his attention. "oh yeah? what’s that?"

satoru slows his pace and then stops, his head tilted slightly as if he's carefully weighing his words.

the light plays over his features, highlighting the contours of his face in a way that makes him look both relaxed and contemplative.

with a lighthearted chuckle, he hums, "all you have to do is breathe, and I’d kneel for you,” he grins at you, “must be nice having the strongest sorcerer wrapped around your finger, huh?"

the words hang in the air, the warm light of the setting sun seeming to pause around you. you blink, stunned. the casual nature of his declaration is in stark contrast to the intensity of the sentiment.

who says something like that so nonchalantly? you stare at him, trying to decipher if he’s being serious or if he’s just messing with you, as he so often does.

satoru resumes his leisurely stroll, his steps light and carefree. his posture is relaxed, a picture of ease in comparison to your flustered self.

you catch up with him, your mind still reeling from his unexpected statement. a soft laugh escapes you, partly out of amusement and partly out of disbelief.

“who drops something like that and then acts like it’s nothing?” you mutter, though your heart is still racing, a mixture of affection and astonishment swirling inside you.

he glances back at you over his shoulder, that playful grin widening further.

"what? it’s true." his voice retains its casual tone, but there’s a glimmer of something more beneath the teasing—a rare flicker of sincerity that catches your attention.

you come to a halt, reaching out to grab his sleeve, gently pulling him to a stop. the gentle pressure of your hand on his arm is enough to make him pause, and he turns to face you. his grin remains, but it softens, the playful edge giving way to something more.

“satoru,” you say, your voice a little quieter now, “but I don’t need you to kneel or do anything for me.”

his expression shifts, curiosity flickering across his face, "oh?"

you step closer, wrapping your arms around him, a gesture he doesn’t hesitate on reciprocating. you take a deep breath and speak softly, “I don’t need you to be the strongest sorcerer or prove anything to me. I just want you.”

for a moment, the air between you changes.

satoru’s smile falters, just for a second. his usual playfulness is replaced with something quieter, more genuine. he looks at you with an intensity that even makes its way through the blindfold.

in fact, for a moment, his hand reaches out for the blindfold and he pulls it down under his chin.

your husband’s eyes never fail to catch you off-guard. they’re bright, so bright. though, you don’t get to appreciate them for long as he closes his eyes and presses a gentle kiss on your forehead.

your lips part in surprise, but satoru doesn’t give you the chance to react further.

because, true to form, he can’t stay serious for long, too much seriousness, and he might just cry.

so he pulls the blindfold right back up, pulling away as that familiar smirk creeps back onto his face, "so you’re saying you married me for my stunning personality and good looks?"

you laugh and roll your eyes affectionately, "exactly. you’ve got me all figured out."

he slips his arm around your shoulders, pulling you close, so you continue walking. his grin softens, and he quips, "good! because you’ve got me wrapped around your finger, and I’m not planning on going anywhere."

“like a parasite?”

your husband lets out an incredulous gasp, pulling away from you yet again and clutching his chest. he fake sobs, “do you have hurt me everyday?!”

“aww, I am sorry,” you coo.

“really?!” he beams.

“no.”

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do not copy or plagiarize

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[phantomsies]

𝖓𝖊𝖝𝖙 𝖈𝖔𝖓𝖙𝖊𝖘𝖙𝖆𝖓𝖙 • 𝖆.𝖆𝖗𝖙𝖑𝖊𝖗𝖙

your biggest fan soon becomes your biggest obsession….

black onlyfans creator!reader (fem descriptions), nerdy!armin, public sex/public masturbation, squirting, mentions of toys, exhibitionism, throatfucking, cumshot

📝: I wanted to go a completely different direction with this but a) it’s no longer kinktober and it would’ve much better suited that and b) nerd!armin just scratches an itch in my brain I can’t quite put my finger on. So enjoy! 🫶🏾 (also, I AM SO SORRY THIS SHIT IS SO LONG 😭😭 I don’t intend on headcanons being this length but I can’t shut the fuck up.)

═✿══╡°˖✧✿✧˖°╞══✿═══✿══╡°˖✧✿✧˖°╞══✿══

nerd!armin had been a dutiful subscriber of (y/n) (l/n)’s or as the world knew you, (performer name) for quite some time. He’d faithfully watched your content, never missing an upload to your sites and shamelessly scrolling your Twitter.

nerd!armin preferred your videos over others because they were so unique. Always willing to push the envelope by shooting in unconventional spaces; your car, public bathrooms and even dressing rooms..a polar opposite to his shy, bashful nature. In a way, he was jealous but also aroused..

from your long acrylics, fluffy lashes, colorful hair that changed from video to video and of course, the beautiful, dark brown complexion that radiated underneath the sun or ring lights, nerd!armin was obsessed.

nerd!armin would lie in bed after a long study session, classes or even a hard day at work..mindlessly stroking his cock in one hand as he held his phone in the other, eyes glued to the screen whilst you performed those lewd acts.

shoving those dildos in and out of your tight cunt, those pretty pink walls and plump brown lips sucking on that silicone toy..stretching yourself open all for his pleasure. A jeweled butt plug shoved into your ass and cream oozing down onto that gorgeous skin and the leather of your seats as you worked yourself into countless orgasms..mewling and begging for the would be viewer to keep fucking you..

“Fuck, I’m about to come, daddy..you’re gonna make me squirt.” Crying out as nerd!armin jerked himself even faster..subconsciously responding back without a single other person being in the room. ”Squirt for me, baby. Come..” Whimpering before exploding with a load of his own..

despite only being an intern, nerd!armin was well off from his freelancing tech work and although it didn’t leave him much room for socializing, he would tip you amicably on all the new content, as well as leave kind, respectful, encouraging words. It wasn’t something you saw often in this field.

it also didn’t take nerd!armin long to realize that you never featured a partner in any of your content like some girls eventually did. Only the various assortment of toys gifted to you by supporters. Which only further fed his delusions when you made a mess and glared into the camera, batting those doe brown eyes before saying “..look at what you made me do..that big dick feels so good..”

nerd!armin, who had only been with one woman sexually in his entire life and didn’t date often, could only dream of being with a girl like you.

so it came as no surprise when you announced that you would be opening a contest to film with one of your subscribers for the first time, nerd!armin leaped at the chance! The thought of getting to fuck the woman he’d hopelessly fawned over excited him.

nerd!armin nearly fainted when he got a DM on OnlyFans one day to see that he had won, asking when he’d like to arrange the meetup.

nerd!armin was understandably nervous on the day you two came face to face..but felt as ease when you continuously reassured him and even made sure that both of you had been tested, as well as protection.

“You’re so cute..it’s nice to finally meet you. Thank you for supporting me..” your gentle voice sent a shockwave of butterflies soaring through nerd!armin’s stomach as you wrapped him in a tight hug…and of course, a tightening in his pants upon laying eyes on his favorite creator. But that was merely the beginning.

nerd!armin found himself blushing when you slowly traced circles all over his skin, examining the single tattoo on his forearm and complimenting the smell of his cologne as the two of you sat alone in the bedroom of the designated filming space of your spacious home. Impressed by the bookshelves full of old literature he passed on the way in.

“Mmmm..you’re nervous, aren’t you?” “…I guess you could say that.” “Well don’t be, I’m going to make sure we have a good time, I promise..”

nerd!armin had no idea just how true you were to your word when less than ten minutes after the camera came on, you were on your knees, tongue extended and a wide smile on your face as he towered over you.

nerd!armin could hardly contain himself when eventually, those glossy brims were now encompassed around his cock. Slurping noises emanating around the room, along with his adorable cries…sloppy drool and gag spit spilling from that wet mouth and onto the pulsating head, shaft and those swollen balls. Disregarding the fact that your pretty face had become a disheveled mess.

“Oh my God…that feels so good, beautiful. Your mouth feels fucking amazing..” “You wanna come for me, baby?” “..yes! Drain me, please..” pathetically pleading whilst relentlessly fucking your throat.

nerd!armin unabashedly spent days, practicing his stroke on a translucent flesh light, feeding it deep thrusts and stuffing it with an ungodly amount of cum, examining your videos like study material..in hopes of gaining some stamina against you.

but nothing could prepare nerd!armin for the sheer sensation that being inside of you brought upon him.. however, he wasn’t the only one caught off guard..especially when he’d gently tug your head down and force you to watch as he glided into that narrow hole.. a move he’d learn from his tapes.

“It’s so big..damn..” “I told you..” giggling to yourselves as your gazes met and he’d begin to move.

nerd!armin almost felt compelled to believe that you were faking your moans like other pornstars so often did…but that misconception was cleared up when your eyes began to trail back, legs began to tremble and a slight bulge formed at the very bottom of your stomach.

“Yes, you stretching the fuck out of this pussy, baby..right there!..” “Am-am I doing a good job?” “You fucking me so good, please don’t stop.”

nerd!armin nearly lost all composure when you all but pushed him away, only to shower him in a stream of your juices. Only increasing as he tapped that swollen tip against your quivering folds.

nerd!armin didn’t last more than five minutes after that powerful climax and began dry heaving as his own neared. Ushering you back to your knees to paint those pretty features and tits with his load.

nerd!armin was convinced that once the cameras shut off, you’d put him out for nutting too quickly. Surely a woman of your caliber would never deal with that again. But yet again, he was proven wrong when you smiled up at him, flicking your tongue across your lips before posing a question. “So..where should we should film next time? We gotta do this more often..”

nerd!armin had found himself the newest and sole object of (creator’s name) affection!

[neckromantics]

More creepy and unsettling, creature Astarion please.

I beg of thee. Vampires are meant to be an uncanny valley type of thing. An undead creature of the night that passes itself as just the right amount of living and mortal for you to let your guard down. I need more examples of his vampiric nature showing once he's grown comfortable enough, and I need it now.

~

An Astarion who is so silent in his movements that you often got jump scared by it in the earlier stages of your relationship.

You'd be lounging around on the sofa. Reading a book, lost in thought, all serene and cozy beneath a nice knitted blanket-- just having an all around nice, relaxing time when you see movement out of the corner of your eye. You glance up for just a moment, to the space before you that was previously unoccupied, and his entire face is suddenly hovering right in front of you.

Just waiting. Not moving. Pupils blown so huge that there's barely any color left to his eyes. Fangs are peeking out over the bruise-purple skin of his bottom lip. He's pallid. White as a corpse. Definitely in need of a good feeding.

His intentions were entirely innocent. He really only meant to ask you a question, and here you are being all dramatic and jumping several feet into the air and throwing your book off to the side in a panic. Thankfully, you're able to catch yourself before you full on shriek in his face.

(You love him and his ghoulishly handsome face, you really and truly do, but you sincerely thought for a moment that he was a spectre come to take you to the afterlife.)

~

Astarion, who routinely forgets to breathe. Yanno, like it's nothing.

You're well aware of the fact that vampires don't need to breathe. It's more of a force of habit than anything else, really-- something left over from when he was still mortal, he says.

Although, during bouts of intense emotion, or some sort of uh, stimulation, the focus on something so trivial gets put on the backburner for a bit.

The two of you will be sharing a particularly passionate kiss (or worse) when you feel the rapid rise and fall of his chest stop short. It's like all of the air has gotten caught in his lungs, and he ends up making these creaky grudge-like sounds in place of his usual low moaning. A clicking in the back of his throat in place of a sigh. If you play your cards just right, there might even be a rattling from deep within his chest that almost sounds like a purr.

When he finally does breathe, usually due to a well executed nip to his bottom lip, or the gentle brush of your fingers against one of his ears as you play with his hair, it comes out as an animalistic hiss. A sharp, choking gasp that sends goosebumps down the length of your arms.

~

How you catch him watching you sleep.

How you'll wake up in the pitch black of your bedroom in a cold sweat. Your hair is stood on end, a fearful shudder threatening to rattle your frame. A spike in your pulse that has your sleep addled brain doing somersaults in your skull. All of your instinctual alarm bells go off at once, telling you that something must be terribly wrong. Something must be watching you.

You try to blink away the bleariness-- try to shake off the fog of sleep for long enough to get your bearings, and catch a glint in the dark so ominous that for a moment you're scared stock still.

Something is watching you. Someone, rather.

Astarion's eyes gleam back at you in the dark like a wild animal's might. A bobcat, maybe, like the ones you'd often find stalking pray outside the tree line of camp all those nights ago. Pupils that glow a filmy, holographic orange despite there being no light to reflect off of them.

You don't notice until after you've taken a second to calm yourself that he's hovering over you. The bed just barely dips from his weight as he supports himself, and you'd be baffled by it all if you had any braincells left.

"Go back to sleep, darling." His voice is so soft, even over the pounding against your eardrums. Soothing. Tranquilizing. And though your eyes do begin to feel heavy, you're not exactly in the mood for rest anymore.

Especially not when he's pressing cold, feather-light kisses down the length of your throat not a moment later.

~

Please, I beg. Give me more.

[ghouljams]

what sort of body hair & body types do you think the 141 boys have

So glad you asked:

Starting with pretty boy Gaz, He's absolutely got the gym body. You know the one with the perfectly sculpted muscles, tugging his shorts up to show off the flex of his thighs for the camera as he grins, rolling his shoulders back to show off the lats, flexing for the camera. He's more lean muscle than huge body builder vibes, like it's definitely tailored to his body type, but it's that instagram influencer perfect physique. He's got a well groomed smattering of hair. Not a ton on his chest but plenty of people are eyeing that neat happy trail as he does chest presses at the gym. Lemme get a peak at that man in the sauna...

Soap is a big lad, but it's all muscle. He definitely is going for more of the body builder physique. Packs on muscle really well, and tries to manage his macros so that he keeps his abs when he wants them. The man is stacked. He's also hairy. He's the motherfucker that you're hoping to death wipes off the gym equipment because you can see him sweating through that pelt he's got. Good dark hair on his arms and legs, and chest hair you just wanna bury your face in. You're not even into that stuff but when he raises his arms to grab the lat tower bar you kinda wanna run your tongue through his underarm hair. You just know that man doesn't even trim his pubic area...

Ghost is just naturally big, but he also packs on muscle like a motherfucker. Ghost has a solid strongman look, like he definitely works out, and you've seen him bench 400 lbs without breaking a sweat, but he also looks like he never turns down a slice of cake. Olympic dead lifter type. You could watch him run on the treadmill for hours with the way his pecs bounce. Doesn't look hairy because he's blond, so it's very light wispy hair, but he's got a nice map of curls at the base of his dick that just make you wanna suck him off. Always lets his towel sit too low in the sauna, when you die, you wanna come back as the sweat dripping between his tits.

Price... You wanna talk about a man that pass up a decent meal it's Price. That doesn't mean he isn't in the gym with his men, it just means he's the one in the mess at midnight grabbing that last cookie before bed. He's good at shedding the weight though. You see him before a mission and he's trimmed up, but once he's home he's a bear of a man. That goes for the hair too. That man is so fucking hairy. Thick dark hair all over his body, to the point where you're not sure he isn't a werewolf or something. You actually checked the lunar cycle once when he wiped his face with the bottom of his shirt in the gym, and you saw the thick hair trailing down the center line of his stomach. (What a man, what a man, what a man)

[ellecdc]

New to Nesting

alpha!Remus Lupin x omega!bestfriend reader who nests for the very first time [2.2k words]

p2 to this post but can be read as a standalone

Prompt: Nesting-character A is building their first nest and is a bit overwhelmed and confused - their nest ends up being a bit...unconventional. Character B is still incredibly proud of course.

Remus had spent the majority of his life fighting against The Wolf, his lycanthropy, his nature; he resisted the deeper urges and instincts that threatened to take over at any given moment.

So when his best friend presented as an omega, prompting him to present as an alpha, he was once again ready to fight his instincts, his nature.

Sirius told him all he knew about alpha’s - the Black’s being a line of alpha’s until Sirius presented as a beta were the only examples of alpha’s he could go off of - and it’s understandable why Remus was so wary of giving into his nature, even if it meant getting to keep you.

He had no desire to give into the animalistic urge to claim you, to have you belong to him, to be subservient to him.

So you can imagine that it came as a huge surprise (and relief) for him to realise that being your alpha was not claiming you, it was not you belonging to him, and it was not you being subservient to him.

It was caring for you, valuing you, protecting you, and it was devoting himself body and soul to you.

So, you know, nothing had really changed since the two of you started dating. What he had already felt for you just became instinctual for him.

Being your alpha meant taking care of you, and so he did.

Though he admittedly didn’t feel like he was doing a very good job of it at the moment; mostly because you were pacing around the flat chewing your thumb - which was likely very close to bleeding at this point - and mumbling incoherently to yourself as you picked up and put back various items and then squirrelling back to the room before washing, rinsing, and repeating.

He’d asked you what you were up to a few times, to which you quickly waved him off. He’d asked if he could help you at all to which you quickly declined.

He was pretending to read when you came wandering back into the room, still muttering, still chewing on your thumb, still lovely and beautiful and his and fuck he loved you.

And it was because he loved you that when you ended up standing over him giving him your best doe eyes and asking if you could have the blanket he currently had over his lap, he simply pulled it off his lap and handed it to you instead of pointing out the fact that there was a free throw blanket folded nicely over the couch across the room.

He was rewarded for his sacrifice by way of a sweet kiss, though, so he wasn’t too bothered.

While you were back in the room - doing whatever you’d been doing - he summoned the other throw blanket over and continued in his reading.

But eventually he realised he couldn’t find his bookmark, so he stood and shook his (new) blanket out and put it aside before checking the cushions of the sofa to no avail.

He knew you had come back into the room, but you still managed to startle him when he turned to find you standing right behind him with his throw blanket held tentatively in your grasp.

“What are you doing, dovey?”

“Can I take this?” You asked in way of answering; tone soft and eyes large.

Remus began to speak but his words died on his tongue; he didn’t want to say no to you, but you’d also already taken one of the blankets from the living room. Were you cold? Were you getting sick? Should he light a fire? Should he call St. Mungos?

He didn’t know where to start, so all that managed to escape his lips was “do you know where my bookmark went?”

You wrung the blanket between your hands as you avoided eye contact with him. “I borrowed it.” You admitted in a whisper.

“Oh…okay…” Remus started slowly. “But…what will I use for my book?”

That had, apparently, been the wrong thing to say when your eyes welled with tears and you looked at him in devastation.

“I- I’m sorry.” You nearly sobbed, and Remus was quickly shaking his head.

“No! No no, it’s okay dovey, it’s alright. I’ll use a receipt.” And to punctuate that decision, he pulled a wad of receipts out of his trouser pocket to show you.

That, apparently, was a mistake too as you eyed them in interest. Thankfully he was able to convince you to let him keep one of them before you squirrelled away with the rest.

And then it hit him.

He ran to the kitchen to check the calendar on the wall that the two of you used to track each of your cycles as well as the moon - you were coming into heat.

And though he was accustomed to your heats by this point; this behaviour was very new.

You were nesting.

For the very first time, at that.

Remus felt his chest swell with pride and love, though tried to keep both at bay as he carefully tiptoed down the hall towards your shared bedroom.

He could hear a record - one of his favourites - playing quietly in the background before he made it to the doorway.

Both blankets you had stolen from Remus were hanging over the two side railings of your four poster bed frame - closing in the bed with only an opening at the foot of it not unlike a den.

You seemed to have tucked Remus’ receipts and bookmark in between two pillows, and he could spot a few of his jumpers, his towel from his shower this morning, the throw pillows from the couch he usually used as back support, a hair brush, a few socks, and… a fork?

“Baby.” He breathed out, causing you to turn on the spot and bring your thumb back up to your teeth. “What are you up to?”

You let out a pained breath from your nose as your eyes welled up again. “I don’t know.” You whispered.

“Are you making a nest?” He cooed, and you let out a wet sound.

“It’s bad.”

He found he couldn’t take it anymore and pried your thumb from between your teeth, pressing a kiss to the raw skin you’d been mauling all afternoon. “It’s not bad, dove.”

“It’s terrible.” You continued as you eyed the nest sceptically.

“Stop.”

“I’m terrible at this.”

Remus took you by the shoulders and turned you towards him and forced you to make eye contact with him. “It is not terrible, and you, my love, are certainly not terrible either.”

“I’m not good at it.” You whimpered then, tears finally falling down your cheeks that Remus was quick to catch with his thumb.

“You’re perfect at everything you do.”

You let out a sound halfway between a groan and a sob. “You have to say that.”

“Dovey, it’s your first nest; it’s wonderful.” He pressed, and fought back a chuckle when he could feel you stop your foot petulantly.

“Why don’t you try it out, hm? Maybe that’ll feel better? Do you want to take a shower and get into some comfies to give it a try?” He murmured into your hair, relishing in the way you melted into his side as you considered the prospect.

“Would you come, too?” You asked shyly.

Remus pulled back only far enough to look you in the eyes.

“In the shower? Or-”

“My…nest.” You corrected, though you all but sneered the end of the sentence as if nest was a dirty word.

“I’d love to, baby. Go shower, yeah? I’ll put a jumper in the dryer for you.” He directed with a gentle pat at your hip, but you shook your head and tugged at the jumper Remus was currently wearing.

“I want this one?” You whispered in the form of a question, and Remus should have expected it.

“Done, it’s yours. I’ll wait for you, okay?”

And Remus felt a little guilty, but he figured you didn’t need to know that the second you were out the room, he ran to grab his camera and take pictures of your nest, your very first nest; one you built here, with him, for him and you with things of his you deemed worthy and fuck he was going to simply combust with the amount of fondness he felt coursing through his veins for you.

True to his word, he was standing exactly where you’d left him (if you ignored the fact that he ran to grab his camera, took multiple pictures of your nest, ran to hide the evidence of his picture taking and returned only moments before he heard the water shut off) when you exited the bathroom wrapped in a towel.

He quickly divulged himself of his jumper and held it open for you to put your head through the neck hole, allowing him to pull it over the rest of your body as you let the towel fall to the ground.

“Do you want this one too, dove?” He asked you quietly as he picked up your used towel, referring to the fact that you had his towel in your nest already.

You seemed to consider it as you lifted one end of it, bringing it to your nose to sniff before releasing it with a shake of your head.

Remus bit back a beaming smile as he pressed a kiss to your head and carried it to the hamper.

When he came back, you were kneeling in the middle of the bed with your thumb between your damned teeth again, and a protective sort of possessiveness surged through him at the sight.

“It’s not right.” You murmured sadly.

“What’s not right about it?” He asked gently, reaching over for your hand and huffing when you gave him the one not currently being assaulted by your mouth.

“I don’t know…”

“May I come in?” And you startled as you looked over at him in awe.

“Yes.” You said almost excitedly, moving over to give him room.

He tried to pay mind to where you had seemed to place things, not wanting to shift or disrupt the nest you had made as he crawled in. “Where do you want me?”

You seemed to think on that before ultimately pointing to his side of the bed where he laid back tentatively.

“You look uncomfortable.” You said worriedly as you watched him lay rigidly on his side.

He offered you what he hoped was a smile though he was sure was mostly a grimace. “I don’t want to ruin it.”

You scoffed as you nudged him at his shoulder so he would relax. “It’s already ruined.”

“Dovey.”

“It’s terrible, you can’t ruin it.”

“It’s not terrible and I can ruin it.”

“Stop arguing with me.”

“You stop arguing with me.” He countered, and he relished in the small giggle that escaped your lips as you moved to lay beside him.

“I…I think it’s better now.” You said tentatively, eyes still darting around the bed as though you were trying to make sure.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah…I think it was just missing you.”

Remus let out a pitiful sound at that and pulled you into his chest. “Fuck you’re so sweet, I love you.”

You sucked in a deep - and apparently well needed - breath as you melted into his side, pressing your nose to a point in his neck signalling Remus to grab your wrist and bring it to the other side of his neck to scent.

“I’m proud of you- don’t argue with me.” He murmured, cutting you off before you even had a chance to utter one word of contradiction.

“Thank you, Rem.” You opted instead, still hiding your face in the junction of his neck he didn’t deign remove you from.

The two of you sat in contented silence for a while before Remus broke it.

“I think we could do without the fork next time, though.” He admitted as he shifted his hip when he realised that’s what had been poking him in the back.

You nearly ripped yourself from Remus’ neck to grab the fork and toss it across the room, smiling to yourself as you considered your nest again.

“Okay…okay, I- I think this is better. This is better.” You decided, speaking more to yourself than you were to him; he was happy to listen anyway.

Remus smiled as pushed a lock of hair behind your ear. “It’s perfect. You’re perfect.”

You smiled down at him; ethereal and warm and bright and his and fuck he loved you so much.

“I love you so much.” You whispered, drawing a line down his nose with a gentle finger before pausing at his chin, apparently having read his mind.

“I love you too, my sweet girl.”

And Remus was so glad that he didn’t have to fight the instinct to pull you into his chest and breathe you in; to love you, protect you, to devote himself to you, body and soul.

[fulokis]

I miss being able to sit outside and look at the stars

[sparklingchim]

game on | jjk

pairing: jungkook x reader

word count: 2.2k

genre: footballer!jungkook, fake dating, f2l

rating: pg

warnings: koo gets scolded for sleeping around 🥺, playboy jk <3, hints of a threesome 🫢, oc fights w a laundry machine

summary: jungkook is in desperate need to polish up his playboy image, and naturally, he turns to you for help.

a/n: hii my pretty besties!!!! it's my bday😋 so i wanted to share this silly piece i've been having so much fun writing!!! love uuu n treat urself to smth nice for me today <3 mwah😙

⭒☆━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━☆⭒

Jeon Jungkook is a charming man – and he is well aware of the fact. He plays that card effortlessly.

Most of the time, it works in his favour.

But sometimes, it backfires spectacularly and gets him into trouble.

Which is why he stands in front of his fuming manage, who is radiating enough anger to fill the entire office.

The sight isn’t foreign to Jungkook. He wouldn’t say he is used to it, but he has found himself often enough in this situation to recognise the signs of deep trouble.

Not only is Jungkook’s charm complicating things, but the fact that he is famous too.

Sometimes, he uses that as an advantage. Not in an obvious way — never by flaunting his own achievements or demanding special treatment.

That’s not his style.

His name alone carries weight, and he knows how to let it work for him, quietly bending the world to his will... until the world pushes back.

And right now, it’s pushing back hard.

One thing Jeon Jungkook does enjoy about being a pro footballer, though, is the way women obsess over him.

He knows they love him – sees it in the comments they leave on his ig posts, sees it in the DMs flooding his inbox daily, and experiences it firsthand at public events, where hordes of fans scream his name. Jungkook thrives on that attention.

However, something he doesn’t love, and what he was never prepared for, is the media. The way they scrutinise his every move, how his face ends up on every headline anytime he does something remotely noteworthy.

And now, thanks to his latest shenanigan getting caught by the press, here he is. Standing in front of his manager, Taesung, and his PR agent, Jiwoo, eyes downcast, bracing himself for the scolding that’s already begun.

“You’ve gone too far this time, Jungkook.”

His manager speaks in a flat, monotonous voice, void of even the slightest hint of disappointment, as if he’d long since given up expecting anything different.

“Do you have any idea how hard it is to clean up the mess you leave behind?”

A sense of guilt creeping up on Jungkook, even though he knows if he were just a regular guy, none of this would matter at all. And he finds it a bit unfair.

But to survive in this business, you can’t complain about unfairness.

“Have you completely lost your mind?” Taesung barks.

Jungkook remains silent. He forces himself to.

“If there was more involved than just alcohol-”

“No! Nothing like that,” he denies, his response firm and immediate. “It was just alcohol – and, well, just good vibes because we won the last match, and with the World Cup being next, everyone was just really excited.”

If he had known what kind of trouble a simple, innocent celebration of his team’s win at a club would bring, he would’ve gone straight home yesterday. He would’ve skipped the rounds of drinks, the flashing lights, the loud music, and definitely the attention. But hindsight was useless now.

“Good,” his manager says. “I’m glad you were happy.” Mock sympathy drips from his voice. “Perhaps the last time you are going to be happy this year.”

Jungkook nods, accepting the gravity of the situation. No more clubs, no more parties, no more girls.

At least, not for a while. His reputation had taken a few hits recently, and this latest mess wasn’t helping. He could almost hear the whispers: reckless, irresponsible, unprofessional. The kind of things that could ruin him if he didn’t get a handle on it.

He clenched his jaw. No more distractions. From now on, it was all about the game. He needed to remind everyone why he was Jeon Jungkook — the best on the field, not just the headlines.

“You’re no longer in for the World Cup. You’re out.”

His head snaps up at that. Did he hear that right?

“What?! What do you mean?”

“Myungbo doesn’t want you on the team anymore.” Taesung’s words sound heavy and final.

Jungkook’s heart pounds in his ears.

His world tilts. The room seems to spin, the edges of his vision darkening. This wasn’t just a setback — it was a disaster. The World Cup was everything to him, and now it felt like it was slipping through his fingers. The crushing weight of the news settles on his chest, making it hard to breathe. One silly night is all that happened.

He can’t believe that a single photo of him leaving the club with two girls clinging to each arm has cost him his spot on the national football team. He went home with two girls – so what?

But he doesn’t voice his frustration. He knows better than to add fuel to the fire. Speaking his mind now would only escalate the situation and make things worse. Jungkook knows from experience.

He swallows hard, forcing himself to stay calm. His pulse is still racing, but he takes a deep breath, focusing on controlling his emotions. He has to keep a level head if he’s going to find a way to fix this.

“There has to be a way to fix this.” His eyes move to Jiwoo, his PR agent. “Right?”

His manager fixes him with a stern glare. “Jungkook, remember the promise you gave everyone a few months ago?” Taesung reminds him.

Jungkook cringes. When he made a promise to avoid actions that might damage his reputation, he didn’t think it’d be that serious. He cut back on going out, made the effort to play the role of the “good boy” but really – come on. He can’t maintain that facade for an eternity. Especially after a triumphant victory like yesterday’s.

Taking away his spot on the national football team? He didn’t think that was possible.

“How many more times do we have to fix your problems, because you don’t care enough? How many times do we have to repeat this scenario?”

“I promise I’ll better myself,” he pleads desperately, looking back and forth between his manager and his PR agent. Someone has to believe him, help him.

“Do you genuinely believe this country wants to be represented by a 20-year-old boy, who can’t keep his personal life under control?” Taesung asks, eyebrows deeply pinched together. “This isn’t just about you, Jungkook. It’s about the team, the fans, and the nation. They need a role model, not a scandal waiting to happen.”

“I know. I know.” Jungkook scrambles for something convincing to say, desperate to sway their decision. This can’t be it. He won’t let his career take a hit because of something like this. “But – but this isn’t too bad. This is fixable. I can fix this.” His voice quivers with a desperation he barely recognises as his own. “Jiwoo.” Jungkook turns to her with pleading eyes. “You always know what to do. Please, help me”

“I did propose an idea but-”

“We’re not doing that,” Taesung cuts in. “It’s off the table.”

“What is it?” Jungkook’s eyes bounce back and forth between them. “I’ll do anything. This is – this is everything to me. You have to give me a chance.”

Taesung scoffs. “A chance? As far as I know, you have been given countless chances.”

Sweat coats the back of Jungkook’s neck.

Taesung understands just how much Jungkook has fought to secure his place on the national team. He’s well aware that it’s one of Jungkook’s greatest dreams, a pinnacle of his career that he’s poured countless hours of hard work and sacrifice into. That’s why, each morning, when he wakes up to the latest news of Jungkook’s escapades, he feels a deep sense of disappointment, texting Jungkook with a dejected shake of his head to visit his office first thing in the morning.

When it’s all he wants, like Jungkook claims, why doesn’t he act like it?

“If the head coach won’t give me a chance now, he’ll never do. This is my last opportunity to change his mind, make him rethink. I need to at least try.���

Jiwoo looks at the manager, waiting for his approval. He nods.

“Very simply put: you need a girlfriend,” she says.

For a second, Jungkook is at loss for words.

“A girlfriend? How’s that going to help?” Jungkook tilts his head in confusion. This is not how he thought Jiwoo was going to save him.

“You need a girlfriend to help polish up your image as a player. It’ll make you appear more like a gentleman, softer and nicer. We need to completely shift public perception and counter the negative image they’ve formed about you. It’s all about changing the narrative,” she explains.

“And that is not something we can easily achieve,” Taesung interjects. “Rebranding your entire persona is not feasible at this stage. You’ve been projecting what kind of boy you are to the media for the past two years. It’s going to be incredibly difficult to make a sudden shift look genuine.”

“No! We — I can make it seem real. This is my only chance,” Jungkook insists, his voice gaining a hint of determination. For a moment, breathing feels a bit easier again. “The World Cup is just a month away. That’s enough time to shift public opinion and prove I’m worthy of representing the country on the team.” There’s a hopeful lilt in his voice as he speaks, clinging to the belief that he might not have to bid farewell to his biggest dream after all.

But his manager doesn’t look as hopeful as Jungkook feels.

“How are we going to find a girl who will agree to this? Someone who isn’t an obsessive fan, understands this is purely professional, and can keep quiet? You won’t be able to pull this off.”

“I was actually thinking-” Jiwoo starts, but she’s cut off.

Jungkook hesitates, glancing between them before speaking. “Actually... I think I already have someone in mind.” His voice is more measured now. “That’s not the issue.” Jungkook doesn’t need to think twice.

Taesung sighs while Jiwoo looks at Jungkook apologetically.

“You can’t rebrand your entire persona from a playboy to a lover boy within a month, Jungkook. This is over.” His manager shakes his head, a sense of finality glimmering in his eyes.

One thing that Jungkook forgot to mention is that he is an extremely competitive man, too.

~

“This is ridiculous.”

You kick the laundry machine in frustration, but all you end up doing is yelping and clutching your aching foot.

“That’s the third time this month,” you mutter under your breath. “What did I even spend all that money on if it’s just going to break down whenever it feels like it?”

You shoot a death glare at the machine, teetering on the edge of losing your mind.

“Guess I’ll have to use the public laundromat again,” you sigh, grabbing the overflowing laundry basket filled with your and your roommate's clothes, and heading out of the bathroom with a huff.

On your way to the front door, the doorbell rings.

Please, you think. You were hoping for some quiet, uninterrupted time to deep-clean your dorm on this peaceful Sunday with no one around.

But when you peek through the peephole and see Jungkook standing there, your frustration melts away. You swing the door open, the laundry basket tumbling to the floor beside you in your haste.

“Jungkook!” you exclaim. “You’re timing is perfect! Can you please fix my laundry machine again? It’s been acting up, and I’m getting frustrated.” You groan annoyed.

Jungkook doesn’t share the same excitement upon seeing you.

You grow smaller and take an indecisive step back.

“What’s wrong?” you ask, noticing the tension in his features. “Did you lose the match yesterday? I couldn’t keep up because I had too much cramming to do last night.”

While studying medicine had always been your dream, the reality is less exciting. Right now, it means sleepless nights and relentless pressure. You know that pursuing this path will offer you many privileges later in life, but you have to suffer first.

“I need your help.”

His dark eyes, usually bright and full of energy, seem clouded with worry, and his hair falls messily over his forehead, like he’s run his hands through it a hundred times in frustration.

“Are you okay?” You study him closely, scanning his face for any signs of injury. Physically, he seems fine — still tall, muscular, and as fit as ever. But something is clearly off.

“You need to do something for me.”

“I can help,” you reply, your voice soft with concern. ‘But what is it…?”

“Can you be my girlfriend?”

You blink, repeatedly.

“Huh?”

You start giggling when he doesn’t add more. You expect him to clarify or laugh along, but Jungkook stays serious, stepping closer and gently taking your hands in his. You look down at them, then back up at his face, utterly bewildered.

“You’re silly, Jungkook. If someone on the team made you do this, tell them you did the punishment and quit acting so weird.”

It’s too early in the morning for Jungkook’s nonsense.

“No, ___, you don’t understand.” He squeezes your hands when he feels you trying to pull them back. “I actually need you to do it.”

“Do what?”

“Fake date me.”

[swordsandholly]

Cherry Bomb - tattoo parlor anthology

MDNI | poly 141 x fem fat reader | masterlist

Part 6: Where…?

The first thing out of your mouth when you wake is a low, discontent groan as your hands fist the blankets around you. Your head and eyes throb. For a good several minutes, you remain completely still - no motivation to move from your semi-comfortable position. You really can’t drink like you used to, huh?

Eventually you work up the courage to crack your eyes open. At least the curtains are closed. The room takes a minute to focus, and the first thing you notice are the incorrectly colored sheets - lacking the usual floral print. You frown, grunting as you sit up. The second thing you notice is the t-shirt and sweatpants you’re currently wearing - not yours and easily a couple sizes too big. They have to belong to someone wide and tall to not be fitted on you. You don’t remember going home with anyone…

You take a moment to look around. It’s a decently sized room with minimal decor. A few art prints line the walls and the closet is in perfect order - separated by type and color. Though, most of it appears to be black. The bed is huge. Tall, too, you realize as you slowly slip your way out of it, nearly tripping on the long fabric of the sweatpants you’ve been dressed in. Glancing at yourself in the small mirror on the wall, you realize your makeup is gone and your hair is braided. There’s a dark wooden dresser and a matching desk with a laptop and sketchbook neatly placed on top. You wander over nosily, squinting down at the book. Oh shit! Oh shit, that’s Simon’s sketchbook. You’d recognize that collection of skull pattered stickers anywhere.

The sound of clinking pans and the scent of bacon slowly registers. Did… did you somehow end up going home with him? There’s no way, right? You remember asking him to dance, you remember him being surprisingly good and… and… that’s about it. On top of the dresser is your outfit from the night before, neatly folded with your bra tucked underneath. Your face heats and you cover your chest.

After a quick self inspection (and a nervous check for condoms in the trash) you decide you’re pretty sure you didn’t fuck anyone. Probably. Hopefully. What happens if you did? Would Simon tell John? Should you tell John? Will it make things awkward? Will he fire you? Oh, you really don’t want to lose this job. It’s the best you’ve ever had and you really, truly love all your boys so much. You press the heels of your hands into your eyes both to soothe the ache in them and to bite back tears.

You’ve always been such a stupid girl.

After giving yourself a few minutes to sit on the bed and properly freak out, flapping your hands in an attempt to get that nervous energy out of your system, you decide it’s time to face the music.

You slip your bralette back on before slowly cracking open the bedroom door. The short hall is mostly shadowed, lights off and the sun drifting in from what you assume is the living room. The door across from you is closed and to your left is a rather nice, spotless bathroom.

You peak your head out into the living room. It’s large and open, flowing into the kitchen as hardwood becomes tile and an island with stools between the two. Simon is the source of the clinking, apparently, moving around the stove like it’s second nature. You suppose you shouldn’t be surprised he can cook - he’s a grown man - but there’s something about the way he arranges the plates, the from-scratch ingredients, that tells you he does actively enjoys it.

It’s cute.

Johnny and Kyle sit on a well loved couch just a few feet from you, both focused on some TV show you don’t recognize. A slow frown forms on your face, turning into shock as the door beside you opens. You nearly jump out of your skin as John appears beside you in a robe and plaid pajama pants.

A soft smile splits his face. “Mornin’, dove.”

“Och, she’s awake!” Johnny grins, throwing an arm over the back of the couch as he turns to face you.

You blink dumbly, head pounding and gut churning as you step closer to stand beside the couch. Without thinking you blurt, “You all… live together?”

“Course.” Kyle pipes up, looking at you as well. As if you were supposed to have known that already.

You melt to the floor in a hungover heap. “Oh, thank god!”

Johnny laughs. “Why thank god?”

“I was so scared I did something stupid…” Your voice cracks as you press your cheek to the cool hardwood. You didn’t fuck anyone, you didn’t embarrass yourself, you were simply taken care of. The relief alone almost makes you want to cry. Though, that’s probably the hangover more than anything.

“Oh, love.” Kyle reaches down to soothe a hand over your hair. “We wouldn’t have done anything like that, yeah?”

You nod.

“Sorry it scared you.” John murmurs, crouching to set a mug of coffee on the floor beside your head. “We didn’t feel comfortable sendin’ y’home alone.”

You nod again, slowly pushing yourself up to grab the mug. The bitter taste of black coffee makes you cringe, but it wakes your system up and seems to push your hangover down to a tolerable level.

“I should go home…” You sigh, not moving a single muscle off the floor where you currently sit.

“Not before you eat somethin’.” Simon calls from the kitchen.

You take the opportunity to look around the living room. The sun has been mostly blocked out by barely cracked curtains. There’s a little bit of each of them in it - artwork scattered across the walls. A few photos - one of John and Simon that looks like the opening of the shop. The leather pride flag sticker stuck on what looks like a toolbox doesn’t escape your notice. Probably John’s. You’ve never seen another man with such well cared for boots and leather coats. Maybe that’s assumptive. There’s a game boy and a PS5 behind the 4K television. Your eyes follow the rather extensive sound system to a massive CD organizer. There’s a short hall on the opposite side of the apartment where you assume the other two rooms are. Everything is so… homey. Comfortable.

“Wait, who’s clothes are these?” You ask suddenly, staring down at the oversized t-shirt and tightly tied sweatpants that pool at your feet awkwardly.

“Mine.” Simon shrugs, setting a plate on the coffee table for you before handing two more off to Johnny and Kyle.

“Comfy.” You hum, eyes zeroing in on the large breakfast in front of you - plate piled high with bacon, sausage, and waffles.

“Ye can sit up here wit’ us.” Johnny pats the empty couch beside him.

You think for a moment before shaking your still aching head. “Don’t think I should stand up yet.”

The food is even better than it looks. For a Brit Simon actually knows how to handle his flavors.

You groan as a particular rough throb stabs at your temple. “I don’t remember drinking enough to be this hungover…”

“Johnny can be very convincing.” Simon rumbles, stabbing a piece of sausage.

“What do you remember?” Kyle leans forward a bit to reach for his coffee.

You shrug. “I remember dancing. That’s kind of where it stops.”

“At least you got to skip the part of the night where Johnny starts rantin’ about chemistry math.” Kyle rolls his eyes.

“Och! Ye love my chemistry talk! It’s the structure of the universe! It’s-“

“Yap yap yap.” Kyle opens and closes his hand in a mocking ‘blah blah blah’ motion.

Kyle helps Simon clean up. You try to insist to let you help as well, but they won’t hear of it. John offers to let you stay the day and sleep off your hangover but you shake your head, wanting nothing more than to take a burning hot shower in your own bathroom - as fun as hanging around with them all day sounds. So, you slip into Simon’s room to change back into your own clothes.

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Kyle rest a hand on Simon’s lower back. A light touch, but solid. You don’t have the wherewithal to think about it.

You peel off Simon’s clothes and put yours back on with a wrinkled nose. There’s something so gross about it, not that you’re clean right now anyway. Thank god you had the foresight to not wear underwire. You order yourself a car on your mostly dead phone as you wander back out to the living room. Your skirt suddenly feels far too exposing for the daylight.

You chew your lip. “My driver’s five minutes out… so, I’ll see you guys Wednesday?”

“I’ll walk you down.” John grunts, pulling himself up out of the arm chair.

“Oh, you don’t have to-” You pause when he gives you that look you’ve come to recognize as ‘don’t argue, I’m doing it anyway.’

You give a round of goodbyes to the others who make no movement to get off the couch, fully sunken in. Johnny has sprawled over the L part of the couch with an arm over his eyes and a water bottle in hand.

“Thanks for letting me stay over. Sorry if I got too, uh, sloppy or whatever.” You murmur as the elevator makes for the lobby.

John chuckles. “No more than Johnny ever does. I’m glad you came. Lookin’ forward to the next one.”

You heart skips as you nod. “Me too.”

John leans forward just as your driver pulls up, pressing a light kiss to your forehead. Your back stiffens and your stomach flutters - face hot as he pulls away.

“See you at the shop.” He nods, sauntering back into the building like he didn’t just give you a heart attack.

Bonus:

“No, ye need an oil cleanser first.” Johnny slurs. “Tha’s how ye get the - hic - the makeup off.”

“Don’t act like I didn’t teach you everythin’ you know about skin care y’muppet.” Kyle snipes back as he digs through the drawers under the counter.

“Workin’ on yer John impersonation, I see.” Johnny snickers. Kyle bats at his arm.

You just giggle, seated on the toilet in Kyle and Johnny’s shared bathroom and swaying back and forth. Simon leans in the doorway, watching as the two drunkenly try to help you get your makeup off. All three of you bursting out into another fit of giggles when Kyle squeezes your round cheeks to make a fish face. It occurs to him that he’s never seen you bare faced. None of them have. Not that you come in everyday with a full beat but even so, there’s something intimate about it. To him, at least. Something about you perched in their apartment, in his clothes, having Johnny smudge moisturizer over your face while Kyle braids your hair to keep it from tangling overnight.

The three of you fit together so well…

John puts on a stupid action movie. Something to distract everyone as you wind down and sober up before bed. You snuggle up to Johnny, unsurprisingly, tucking yourself under his arm with your head on his chest. He’s practically Pavlov’d you into constantly touching each other. Just like he did with the rest of them. He jumps a bit when you press your socked feet to his thigh, humming comfortably. There’s a stupid grin plastered across your face.

“Alright, off to bed with you.” John chuckles as you snore comfortably on Johnny’s chest. The Scot is equally asleep, your chests rising and falling in an asynchronous rhythm. John loops his arms under your back and knees, just as strong as he’s always been, carefully cradling you against his chest as he takes you to Simon’s room.

Simon follows, glancing sideways at your clothes in his dresser. You groan as John lowers you but don’t wake up - well and truly passed out.

Simon pauses for a moment before following John out, staring down at you. He’s no better than the others, the alcohol numbing his inhibitions. So, he reaches down, and swipes a thumb over your slightly parted lips. Just as soft as he thought…

He settles into John’s bed, the frame creaking under their combined weight. Neither of them are particularly slight, after all.

“Glad y’danced tonight.” John mutters, reaching over to turn off his lamp.

Simon just grunts.

“She’s good for you.”

“She’s good for us.” He blurts, immediately wanting to shove the words back down his throat.

To his surprise, John just nods, turning to sling an arm over Simon’s waist. “She is.”

A/N: Thank you all so much for enjoying this series with me, it means a ton! I’m sorry I’m not very good at responding to replies/asks but I really do love and appreciate you all!

Hope you’re pumped for the next part bc I am

[evilgwrl]

Can you pls write period sex with Ghost 😭🥰🥰

heheheh period sex is a fave to me!!!! I hope u enjoy anon <333

CW: Period sex, blood

Simon was desperate to put you out of your glum misery, the pout of your lip and the flair of your brows as you kneeled over in pain only urged him on more as he furiously tapped into his phone ways to help with period cramps.

He had tried everything; a hot water bottle, a nice bath, tea, massages. It all just left you feeling too hot or overwhelmed and never seemed to subside the internal torment of your belly.

Brown eyes widened slightly as he took in the word “sex” blurted as 1) on some shitty magazine website. Pupils flickered between each line taking in how ‘making love’ was a great way to ease period cramps.

It was a tender subject while you were menstruating, Simon’s body timid as he approached your skulking figure.

“Baby, I’ve been doing research on how to help with your period cramps and I’m willing to try it if you want too?”

“Mmmm… Si, no more home remedies… what is it?”

“Fucking.”

Your eyes looked at his, face tense as you checked for a joking smirk but your boyfriend only just stared at you, holding his phone up to show he was being truthful.

“You want to… fuck? Me? While I’m on my period?”

Simon nodded, almost hesitantly as he heard the unsureness in your tone. You blinked.

“What if it grosses you out? Or smells? Or looks weird? Or you get chunks on your dick?”

Simon shook his head, a chuckle leaving his throat as he leaned forward, placing a gentle kiss on your hairline.

“I’ve seen every bit of you. Nothing would gross me out. It’s completely natural, love. Besides, I see blood too often, feels like second nature to me now.”

Your body was rigid as you laid awkwardly on a towel, your thighs widened as Simon took in the sight of you. He licked his chapped lips, taking in the puff of your swollen pussy and the gentle throb of your clit. You had quickly washed yourself before this, incredibly self conscious, even though your boyfriend urged that it wasn’t necessary.

Slick pooled at your entrance, the light filter of red hinting through as Simon locked his hips against yours, rubbing the mushroom tip over your wet folds, a moan escaping your mouth as you clutched onto his biceps.

He lined himself against your aching hole, pushing in slightly as you whined before edging himself in inch by inch. It wasn’t long until he bottomed out, thick cock filling you to the brim as he began to rock back and forth, kissing your gummy walls with each thrust as you writhed underneath him.

“That’s it baby, does that feel good?”

You nodded, biting your lip in the process as a hand rubbed down on your belly, pushing slightly as he picked up his pace, thrusting into your wet heat as you mewled.

His shaft was coated in your slick and a light dribble of blood, the metallic taste in the air sending something carnal through him as he fucked himself into you at a rough pace, his eyes watching the way your breasts jiggled and your face scrunched up in pleasure.

“Fuck- Si - so, so good.”

“I know baby, just needed me to fuck you silly to feel better.”

You felt aligned with him as he ached his member into you before spilling his delectable seed into your fertile cunt.

Spoiler alert, you didn’t get a period for 9 months after this. Seemed to help your cramping problem.