#LOOK AT ALL THIS AGGRESSIVE AFFECTION

[ikarosxflight]

K.O'D

[baby-xemnas]

cuuuuuute wtf would teenage bepo think law's just catering to him by putting up with his garchus like 'law san is so kind and understanding and I'm so happy to be able to share this with him' while law gets half hard every time bepo touches him like that

YES

bepo definitely would think law is just indulging him, allowing physical affection and not noticing the effect it has on law

and if law sounds weird its just because it must be a little uncomfortable for him still....wow law san is sacrificing his comfort for me...bepo feels bad but he is too happy to hug and rub his face against law he is gonna be a little selfish! thank you law san!!!! you are the nicest!!!

law def gets more than a little excited and wishes that the hugs lasted longer...oh to jerk off WHILE burying his face in bepo's fur...surrounded by his warmth and smell and hearing his heartbeat and his breathing and happy hums he lets out sometimes...what a dream

[tellie-vision-art]

Idk if I’ll finish this but,,, Priyaxel (Priya is on tip toes ik she’s not that tall 😭)

Axel has been desperately trying to show affection in her extremely strange way (you know, extremely romantic offerings of weapons and dead things to eat, and showing off whenever possible… flowers will not help you in the apocalypse❗️) and is shocked when it is actually returned

I kinda want to write a fic with them but also I am scared lmao

[angeltism]

My vibe has been thrown off big time. Not very live laugh love of the universe tbh.

[bravevolunteer]

michael ships moodboard

[chuchayucca]

Discussions of implied fictional CSA & SA

I recently been wondering if there’s a chance Richard thinks Roy’s aggressive and distant behavior is normal and not a sign of CSA because he acted similarly to Roy when he was younger

Reasonings in the tags

[milfygerard]

does taylor have a single debut song on any of the playlists?

[autisticlee]

I started with posting about my autistic experience on twitter, reading posts on there, and interacting with people there.

then twitter got unbearable, so I moved back here and made a new account and side blogs to mirror twitter and lurk in the tags.

i've noticed a difference between autism twitter and autism tumblr from the big algorithm-controlled posts I usually see:

autism twitter makes me feel like i'm not allowed to say autism disables me or causes problems in life

while autism tumblr makes me feel like i'm not allowed to feel positively about being autistic and can only see it as a struggling disability.

the contrast makes me dizzy 😵‍💫 it's like no one wants to see the perspective of other people when we are all different. each side wants their narrative to be the told one.

[dragonwysper]

YES. Please question every scrap of information that is fed to you. Always and constantly. Info doesn't have to be blatant harmful bullshit for you to question its legitimacy. Dogwhistles and half-truths turn into that blatant bullshit, and by the time it gets there, you're already too deep.

[sapporomilktea]

weight talk and stuff

[yerchokito]

PRETTY KITTY TURNS PRETTY HORNY .ᐟ FT SATORU GOJO

synopsis - finally you decided to adopt a new friend at the adoption centre! only, he wants to be more that friends…

warnings - p in v, brief oral sex (fem receiving) unprotected sex, slight manipulation(?) creampie, shitty smut, petname: master used mockingly, not thoroughly proofread, talk of potential children, lowk masochist gojo, ect ect. fem reader

notes - yay I finally got this out! lol it honestly did get a bit sloppy at the end but I wanted to get this out b4 christmas!enjoy! the smut is lowkey short but I don’t want to fix it..

edit - I just realised I posted this on his death date

Phew, you did it.

You finally grew a pair and adopted a newly rescued snow-leopard hybrid! After months of your self-pitying you managed to convince yourself to adopt a friend!

You spent many, many hours contemplating on whether to actually adopt. And many hours more watching sad videos on hybrids, how mistreated they are out of the adoption centre.

That was more than enough to convince you.

Now you have an exotic hybrid of your own! And he’s just the cutest little—er big thing! He’s got fluffy little ears, a handsome face, striking blue eyes, and the fluffiest tail in the world!

You’ve learnt a lot about him. His name is Satoru Gojo, around the same age as you! Unfortunately, he spent a lot of his life in illegal fighting rings. Poor thing almost got killed a while back. Luckily, his caretakers at the agency have had no aggression problems with him! He’s affectionate, friendly, reckless at times, but overall great to have as a first time owner!

He’s really—really big. His head just about reaches the ceiling of your small apartment. It's gonna be hard finding clothes for the man. Let alone a bed.

But that’s all a problem for future you!

Packing him in the car was a hefty thing, his tallness being the main problem, a little cramped (he had to lay half his body on the floor) but it worked in the end!

As soon as you bought the little—uh, big critter home, you pampered him with affections. Petting his head, rubbing his ears, scratching under his chin all that stuff that makes him mushy in the brain!

The only problem would be leaving him alone… he’s fairly clingy. You’ll just have to work on that. He seems capable enough. Hopefully…

Note to self: get a baby cam.

˗ˏˋ — ˎˊ˗

Maybe this was a mistake.

Satoru’s a really good guy, he’s friendly, definitely affectionate and really clingy. All good qualities that you love about him!

But, there are qualities you come to… dislike, so to say.

He’s bratty. defiant against your house rules, a back-talker.

He always wants attention. Pushing things off counters or using his tail to block your eyes whenever he wants to annoy you.

He’s very manipulative. Using his wide eyes to trick you—or anyone—into giving him sweets!

He’s also unbearably horny, probably his worst trait. Always trying to rub against you, heck even mount you! For someone so angelic-looking, he sure ain’t an angel.

And you can name a couple of… embarrassing incidents.

Incident #1

“Hey—Toru! What are you doing, stop that!” You shout, trying to push him back and away from— wait, are those your panties he has in your mouth!

“Satoru! Bad boy, get those out of your mouth!” You splutter, face flushing red.

But, apparently you adopted the devil.

He tilts his head in an innocent way, ears flopping to the side as he deviously munches on your precious—and very expensive—underwear.

You try to wrestle them away from his maw, unlucky for you, you’ve also adopted an abnormally tall hybrid. His innocent act drops as he dangles them above your head, laughing at your embarrassment.

Of course, he gave it back. Not without it slicked in his spit and now turned crotchless.

It was… not a great moment for you or your hopes of being dominant over him.

Incident #2

It’s a nice sunny morning, you got up earlier than your alarm, made a nice breakfast, and finally got that darned work assignment finished.

A peaceful day.

Until your precious kitty takes his biting urges on you.

“Satoru, do-don’t bite meee!” You whine, once again trying to push away the snarky beast. God, why must he be twice your size.

He chuffs, pining you with his weight as he nibbles at your skin. Tail swaying mischievously behind him.

“Mn—be still, lemme jus’…” He whispers. Devious man he is. His nibbling becomes full-blown bites, decorating your neck and collarbone in a bazillion bite marks.

Satoru only giggles at your pathetic attempts of squirming away. Pfft, you think he’ll let you walk away? Nothing gets away from his keen eyes.

Needless to say, the bite marks were not a fashion statement at work. Didn’t really capture as many complements as it did laughter.

Note to self: Invest in a muzzle.

Incident #3

Now, maybe this is your fault. You did notice the change in behaviour, he’s always been clingy— the staff at the agency did say he was… the possessive type. But! You didn’t notice the possessiveness until now! So it’s not entirely your fault.

Okay, maybe his growling at your friend— male, should you note— was a teensy red flag, the constant butting of his head against you was also alerting you. So you maybe-sorta-should’ve predicted this.

Maybe if you realised that Satoru is not entirely human (even though he acts like it), you would’ve remembered he has an amazing sense of smell.

“aaahnn… mornin’ Toru’, how did you sleep hm?” you yawn. The lack of response is unnerving, and rude.

“Hey now, ts’ not nice to ignore me, Satoru.” Again silence, wait—what the-?

“Oof! Satoru—gah!—get off!” You struggle, your overgrown hybrid kitty has decided to pounce on you, his full weight crushing you.

“H-hey—oh!” Did.. did you feel that correctly, is your boy.. oh gosh.

“Mrrow…mn, you smell s’ good.” His breath is hot against your neck, sniffing at your throat, his fuzzy ears rubbing under your chin.

“Mnh—heat, in heat? mrr..” He purrs, big hands encasing yours as the big idiot rocks his hips against your backside— oh my.

“H-huh? No, down Satoru! Bad boy—ooh!—don-don’t!” You try not to moan out as he ruts against you. Licking at the nape of your neck, almost mockingly.

“Heh— shh, I’ll take care of ya. Aw’ you’re so small compared to me..” Satoru breathes, chuckling like he always does.

…

Lets just say, Satoru has become real good friends with the spray bottle.

Note to self: Get him neutered.

˗ˏˋ — ˎˊ˗

And there are way more incidents as… sexual as these ones. You love the big guy, he’s cuddly, got a fuzzy head, really warm, but he seems to really enjoy mounting you. Like, really badly.

He’s become a menace! I mean, you knew he wasn’t neutered, but you didn’t think he’d be interested in you!

It's almost everyday he tries to get in your pants! Gotta hand it to him, he’s really persistent.

Well, you won’t be taking any of his nonsense today!

“Satoru! Breakfast!” You yell out. You hear him scurrying around the corner, jeez food fein.

“Heh, mm waffles..” He purrs at your feet, nuzzling against the back of your knee.

He wraps his tail around your ankle, hands gently kneading at your leg. Nose twitching at the sugary smells.

“You hungry, sweetie?” You coo, petting the big oafs head.

Awh, maybe you’re being too harsh on him. He’s your baby, he doesn’t know any better!

˗ˏˋ — ˎˊ˗

Oh who were you kidding, of course he knows what he’s doing! Why are you so gullible?

What was supposed to be a nice, calm, peaceful, non-sexual breakfast, ends up with your mischievous kitty munching on your pussy instead!

He’s got your legs up, knees having small-talk to your shoulders whilst he —quite literally— devours you.

“Satoruuu!— don’t do thaah! Oh!” You squeak. You weakly push on his head, trying to get him away from your front.

Unfortunately, Satoru is a determined cat.

“Mnn, be still. M’ hungry.” He purrs between your legs, the vibrations of his voice send tingles up your spine.

For Satoru, that delicious nectar leaking out of you is heavenly. Until this thin, pathetic piece of fabric ruins his meal. If only he could just…

rripp!

“H-huh? S’toru! Those were expensiveee— haa!” You scold. well, try to. It’s hard to speak when you’re literally breathless.

He tongues at your now naked pussy, slurping all that gooey goodness you so graciously produce. So sweet.

He pulls back, your cunt and his mouth connected by a sloppy string of spit. He coo’s and presses a kiss hard against your clit, making you twitch and moan.

Out of the corner of your eye you see the devil incarnate smiling so sweetly, his tail curling around your ankle. What was once a sweet gesture is now no longer reassuring.

Your ‘innocent’ kitty now has free rein to your more… primal parts. The stronger scent pulls on Satoru’s will, he whines at the sudden, yet aggressive urge to bury himself inside you.

Hmm maybe he should.

Hoisting himself up, Satoru leans back on his calves, admiring the little mess he’s made of you. Flushed red, panting, drooling, and completely high on the pleasure. His pants tighten.

He’s been blessed with such a cute owner!

˗ˏˋ — ˎˊ˗

Plap! Plap! Plap!

“Haa— d’aww don’t be so shy, master. Heh—fhuck!” Said the devil incarnate, mockingly.

Satoru is a condescending bunch, cute but really full of himself. It’s shows in his way of fucking.

He has you on your back, legs resting on his broad shoulders as he literally folds you in half. Your head is just reeling, your face is covered in his spit, hairline all sweaty, jaw hanging open, and you're burning all over!

His cock is big, too big. It nearly split you in half when he tried to fit it in. He’s never been a patient kitty.

“Awhhh— masterrrr, you’re tightenin’ up sho’ muchhh…” He purrs. Tail swaying mockingly.

Leaning forward, Satoru nuzzles his ears against your cheek, wanting to be pet.

Unfortunately, you’re incoherent to his requests. Too focused on the harsh rutting of his cock into your sticky cunt.

“Heyyy… pet meee,” He whines, “Hm? Heh— tappin’ out already?” His eyes gleam with mischievous-ness as he grins a toothy grin. You’re not gonna make it out alive.

He bites his lip, giggling at your pleasured face. If only he could take a picture, save this moment forever. He cups your face, caressing your sweaty cheeks, then presses a loving kiss to your lips.

“Mwah! Hehe— you’re so cute,” He whispers against your lips.

In midst of this somewhat sweet moment, the pace of Satoru rolling his hips against you increases. Then turning into him full on slamming his hips into yours, huffing as he focuses on pounding you into next week.

All you can do is grip onto him, tugging on his ears. He moans pornographically, drooling as you harshly grip his sensitive ears. The painful yet pleasant sensation sparks something new in Satoru.

With the intent to breed, Satoru turns you over. His chest to your back as he leans his weight on you, arms wrapping tightly around your sweaty skin.

This new position gives Satoru a better chance at giving you some cute mini him’s!

“Oh! Oh!—Toruuu’!” You squeal, tears now brimming in your eyes at the overwhelming feeling that is undoubtedly him.

Without warning, you cum. Hole clenching and spasming and coating his lower body in a translucent liquid.

“Hm—hah— I knew you wan—ahn—wanted me!” He mewls, quickly pounding in and out, creating a wet ‘schlick!’ sound.

Oh you’re so perverted! Letting your precious kitty take you like this!

You’ll never live this down.

Satoru doesn’t seem to care.

“Oooh— m’ cumming, nng— masterrr!” He moans, non-stop humping into your creamy pussy, drooling all over you.

“Not—not insideee! Toru’!” You cry out, pushing your hips back to get him off of you, it does the opposite.

His tail wraps around your thigh as he cums. It splurts frantically inside of you, his cock twitching violently as he whines in pleasure.

It’s hot, sticky and definitely a thick load. It feels endless, liquidy rope after rope. But it feels so refreshing.

He pulls out (you didn’t think he would), nuzzling and purring at the nape of your neck. Innocently licking at your tear-stricken cheeks.

…

It’s been so long since you last experienced this pleasure.

You’ll definitely regret this later.

˗ˏˋ — ˎˊ˗

Oh god, why did you do that!

Having sex with a hybrid is just a different type of low, even for you!

Oh jeez, you're just as perverted as him! Oh whywhywhywhy! He was just supposed to be a companion! Not a—

“Mrr, pet meee..” Satoru whines, pawning at your chest. He’s back to his old self again.

Mostly. He’s become more… confident in his abilities over you. Let’s just say after your regrettable (not in his eyes) playtime with him, he has no restraint on mounting you now. The idiots even started humping you in public!

Which is why you’ve been leaving him at home.

Now more than ever, you two spend a lot of time together. Mostly consisting of naps, him licking you, more naps, eating… recreational activities, blah blah blah. He now sleeps on your bed, he’s more like an overstayed one night stand than an exotic cat.

At Least he’s extra cuddly!

[halfgirl-halfdolll]

Thinking about neurodivergent!secretary!reader who absolutely despises when there's new, young soldiers at the base.

Your base instinct is to run whenever there's a teenager in front of you – it doesn't matter if you're almost 30 years old. The scars of the bullying you suffered when you were young are still tender, and you hate when their scrutinizing gazes lock onto you, tongues sharp and ready to pick and pull at every loose thread of insecurity you have; hammering you down until stop sticking out like a bent nail.

Your boys see that. And they hate it.

They just love their little doll, their favorite (only) secretary. It's the highlight of their days to see you all pretty with your dresses and your soft but purposeful steps, calling out to them with a quiet voice. You're like a little bunny – small, scared, and cute. Their nerves flare up with the desperate need to just keep you safe in their hands, always within their reach.

And when they find out that some good-for-nothing recruits are intimidating you and talking shit about you behind your back, trying to bully you for the way you chose to live your life?

Price doesn't think twice about ruining their military careers. Who cares about some stupid runts? All that matters is your pretty smile, love. Maybe bullying doesn't call for a dishonorable discharge, but hey. A little abuse of power is absolutely nothing if it means keeping you happy.

Ghost will be more than happy to beat up all of the scum that had the gall to whisper nasty comments about you whenever he's training them. You're his little piece of heaven. The only bird that has ever looked at him with loving eyes, and not fear. He wouldn't stand for anyone who badmouths the one soft thing he has going on in his life. And if he punches their jaws until they dislocate so they can't talk about you? That's on them for not blocking. And if he breaks their finger so they can't type anything? Oh, lovie. That's on them for not dodging.

Soap is a lot less subtle. He'll just knock down whoever's near him if they so much as whisper something about you. No one talks about his bonnie. Not when you're the sweetest little thing that's ever been around him. Soap sometimes daydreams of getting a nasty toothache just by biting you, so sweet you are. And no one can ever hurt you beside him and his mates, when they eventually show you the sugar pain of their affections. Interestingly, Sergeant MacTavish just never seems to face disciplinary action despite how openly aggressive he is to those new runts...

Gaz is the one with the information. He's all tight lipped smiles and fake laughs when he's talking with a new recruit and they dare to poke fun at you. Sometimes they even know you're 141's secretary and openly expect Kyle to agree with them. As if he could ever think anything but the absolute best about you, his precious doll... He wouldn't let this slander go on for much longer, though. Just a few words with Price or Ghost and the recruit would be swallowing their words with blood and bile. You can always trust him to be your knight in shining armor, love, just like you're his princess. No harm will ever come your way, if it's up to him.

[ridher]

rafe cameron too fine i wanna squish his cheeks til he's mad

you adored your boyfriend — yes, we're talking about the same person. though he wasn't much different from the reputation you'd heard all too much about, now he was yours.

so when he comes home from whatever errands he had to run around the town for that day, you're already mulling about the cameron mansion — something not so uncommon in the few months you'd been together.

a loud click of the front door slamming shut echos through the long, empty halls and almost instantly reaches your ears. you know who it is based on the aggressiveness of the person's footsteps.. and because you were periodically checking life360 with an impatient biting of your acrylics.

yet, you don't move from where you're curled up on a spacious couch in the living room despite how badly you want to see him — he can take some initiative sometimes.

so it startles you slightly when he plops down beside you with a heavy sigh through his nose, having silently found you and entered the room without you even realizing.

tilting your head to look up at him all wide-eyed, his gaze is glued stoically to the excessively huge television across the room playing whatever you'd been mindlessly binge-watching.

you shuffle closer, disregarding the blanket that slips off your bare legs while doing so — something he doesn't miss out of the corner of his eye.

he softens up only slightly when you lay your head against his bicep and curl up at his side, following his gaze to focus back on the show though his presence clouds your thoughts.

as if it's such a chore, he wraps the arm around you and your head slumps to his chest, suddenly all smiley at the warm feeling of his hand across your back — slipping under your baby tee through the bit of skin it exposes.

you look back up at him again to find the grumpy boy already staring down at you, any hint of affection hidden from his expression at being caught admiring his girl. but, you're already smiling sweetly at the sight of a flush across his face to which he redirects his attention from you.

giggling, you reach your hands up to cup his face and sit up slightly to be partially on his lap and face him. his reaction is an immediate furrow of his brows and a frown tugs at his lips, tensing while trying to lean away. but you don't let him — instead holding his cheeks and squeezing gently as you would a child.

eventually, rafe grabs your wrists and pulls your hands away, clearly displeased by your act of babying towards him — he's a man, after all. debating with himself while glancing across your happy little face, he digresses and pulls you against him with the grip he had on your arms.

you just giggle again and cuddle up against his torso, grabbing at the hem of his shirt to cling to him more acceptably in the opinion of rafe.

he shakes his head to himself and looks down at you with the most subtle of smirks, one hand going to the back of your thigh right under the curve of your backside and the other firmly against the back of your head, long fingers spreading through your hair.

"shiiit," rafe drawls, thinking over the situation and the pretty girl he's got so obsessed in his lap. he couldn't stay mad.

[sqtorux]

love makes a man tender— the same could be said for a monster.

sukuna sits patiently with his daughter on his lap while she applies various colours on his face he finds so hideous.

her small little hands pat the products into his skin, a bit too aggressively for his liking but he lets her regardless, not without a few grunts and huffs of annoyance though.

"pick another one" sukuna says in an irritated tone when she brought a bright pink blush close to his face.

the child only pouts "but 'ts pretty!!" now if you must know, sukuna dislikes pink; hates it even. it looks lively and soft — the exact opposite of who he was. (also maybe because a certain someone aka his least favourite niece has the exact same hair colour but the girl doesn't need to know that).

despite that, sukuna finds himself giving into that stupid pout he somehow catches himself adoring. all four of his eyes roll "get on with it then."

the giggles that follow after almost made him want to paint all of himself pink. almost.

however, what drove him to the edge was when he was asked to close his eyes so she could apply yet another colour onto them.

being the kid she is, she does it a bit sloppy— accidentally poking his eyes once or twice. "brat that hurts" sukuna growls but makes no move to stop her.

he thinks the foolish eye pokes were worth it when a light peck lands on each of his eyes "sorry daddy!" the child chuckles and sukuna opens his eyes.

one of his four hands make their way to her lips stained with a faint black— which he guesses were from his eyes, and wipes them away gently. "you look stupid."

the girl ignores his half assed words and brings yet another bright shade and begins applying it onto his lips. he sits obediently.

"there! you're done. you're so pretty daddy!!" the child squeals in excitement and brings a mirror to her father's face.

sukuna stares into the mirror and frowns "how horrifying."

"do you not like it?"

sukuna scoffs and places the mirror down "i have always wanted to look abominable."

"yes you look adorable!" the girl giggles while clapping her tiny hands together happily. sukuna doesn't correct her.

later when she sleeps and you're talking the makeup off for him, sukuna complaints.

"this is the result of the small brat's assault."

you only laugh in response and his eyes stare up to you. "i am being very serious."

"then why didn't you stop her?"

sukuna doesn't have an answer to that because that would mean he had to admit his affection for yet another person after you.

"that's right, you'd do anything for her won't you?" your chuckle makes all four of his eyes roll. he seems to do that a lot lately.

"the small brat and the big brat love tormenting me."

you raise a brow at this, "and do you have a problem with that?"

sukuna huffs but the soft expression replacing his usually grim one betrays the act of annoyance he puts up.

"i wouldn't have it any other way."

[brattyspence]

sober thoughts | s.reid

summary: pining!reader makes a drunk call to spencer after going out with friends, and is aggressively trying to flirt with him. 

tags: reader is DRUNK! alcohol!! dont read if thats not okay!!, fluffy as fuck, spencer is the most gentle of gentlemen, pining!reader, reader wears makeup/dress/heels, spencer is lowkey bad at flirting but he shows affection in weird ways, one use of Y/N (sorry i know)

a/n: this has been bouncing around in my head for a while. sigh.

word count: 1.9k

masterlist

He was used to seeing you tipsy, if that was even the right word for it. 

You were friends, after all. Best friends, even. And the fact that he lived only a few doors down from the pub the team frequented made it stupid not to offer his couch to you after going out with the team. 

You weren’t a heavy drinker by any stretch of the imagination. Every now and then on a Friday night, you’d head out with the team and have one, maybe two drinks if you were feeling particularly adventurous–but you still didn’t want to drive home, especially when he was offering his home to you. Truthfully, you just liked getting to hang out with him. You liked getting to exist in his orbit and discuss a random topic late into the night. It had become normal for you, an excuse to do something together that didn’t revolve around work. 

What was not normal was the fact that it was a Saturday at 11 PM and you were really drunk, calling him. 

Your contact photo filled his screen, illuminating the dark room. You weren’t one to call, preferring the convenience of a text. Especially this late, which worried him a bit. He picked up quickly, tucking the phone to his ear.

“Hey, you okay?”

“Hey, Spencer?” It wasn’t your voice. “This is Molly, Y/N’s friend. I’m sorry to call so late. We’re out with some friends from college celebrating someone’s birthday, and she got… like, drunk drunk, kinda sloppy… and she’s been blabbing about you for a while. She wanted me to call you.”

“Oh,” he sighs. He runs a hand through his hair, preparing himself. “Can you put her on?”

“Yeah. Not sure you’ll get anything out of her, though. Here…”

He can hear the general chatter and chaos of the bar over the call. There’s some rustling sounds before you finally take the phone.

“Hi,” you say, your voice dripping with a certain kind of fondness. He can hear the smile through the screen. 

“Hey,” he replies. ”You having fun?”

“Oh, Spencer, I was… I haven’t heard your voice in so long. What’re you…” you trail off, lifting the phone from your ear to answer someone else. “Sorry. ‘S so loud in here.

He chuckles to himself. “I saw you yesterday.”

“Yeah, ‘nd that was… Oh, I can’t do math right now. A long time ago.”

“Are you okay?”

On the other side of town, you were sitting in a barstool, swiping your finger along the beads of condensation rolling down the glass of water in front of you. 

“Mhm. ‘M good. Fine. Drunk.”

“Yeah, I can tell,” he smiles. “Are you gonna be able to get home?”

“Uhh…” you pause. “I was gonna Uber… but then I thought that maybe… if you weren't busy… we could hang out…” 

He could vaguely make out dialog on the other end of the phone. Some kind of “Girl, this sounds really pathetic,” followed by a “Shhhh!” in two other drunken voices.

“But I could also make Molly order me an Uber,” you added. “‘S okay. Nevermind.”

“No, you're not getting in an Uber inebriated. That’s ridiculous.”

“‘M not inebriated.”

A background voice comes back. “Yeah, you are.”

Spencer sighs into the phone. “Just… send me your location, please? I’ll come get you.”

“O-kay. ‘M sending it right now, jus’ tell me when you-”

The call went dead before you could finish your thought, which he chalked up to some kind of drunken user error. A few seconds later a text came through 

You: dropped a pin

You: its molly again. let me know if you got this

He responded, relieved that you had someone looking after you, before getting ready and grabbing his keys. 

-

You were sitting on a bench outside the bar. The air was cool and crisp, but you were warm, your skin clammy from the alcohol. You had been mumbling something incoherent about Spencer, he’s just so good to me, Molly, and oh, god, I don’t know what to do with myself, and…

Molly, who had been trying to sober you up (unsuccessfully), was standing in front of you, arms crossed, listening to your incessant rambling.

“...’nd sometimes he talks to me, ‘nd I have no idea what he’s talking about but he’s so hot when he’s smart. You should hear, it, Mol’.”

Cars pass on the street behind you, filling the silence momentarily. Molly looks over her shoulder, scanning the street before turning back to you. “Alright. Be quiet. He’s here” 

“Don’t care.”

She puts her hand out to help you up, which you accept rising to your feet. You’re surprised by how unsteady you feel, but you focus on putting one foot in front of the other.

“I’ll make fun of you for this tomorrow,” she says. 

You only have a few seconds to grumble in protest before Spencer reaches you. He scans you quickly, chuckling to himself.

“You are a mess,” he says, amused. 

You feel slightly infantilized watching Molly hand over all your personal effects to him. You weren’t even sure when you’d put down your wallet and keys, much less where, but you’re thankful she picked them up and not someone else.

“Good luck,” She tells him. She pats your arm before turning back to the bar, leaving you alone on the street with him. 

“You okay?” He asks. You watch him shuck off his jacket, which he helps you slide over your arms.

“‘M fine,” you reply. “Warm.”

“Because you’re drunk.” He keeps his eyes trained on the zipper of the jacket, or really anywhere that isn't you in that dress. “Alcohol is a vasodilator. So you feel warm. But it's forty degrees outside, and hypothermia doesn't care.”

You pout at him, watching as he pulls the zipper tab up enough to shield you from the cold. Only then does he really look at you. 

“I wanted you to see my pretty dress,” you pout. Your words come out slurred still. 

You meet his eyes for a split second. He opens his mouth, seemingly about to reply, but quickly decides against it. He shakes his head as if to clear the thought.

“Come on. We gotta get you home.” 

“You don't like it?” 

“I didn't say that.” He tucks a hand under your arm as you begin back down the street, keeping you steady. 

“So you do like it?” You look over at him, your face more excited than he was expecting. 

“It’s very pretty,” he replies.

Your shoulder bumps his as you walk, seemingly unable to maintain a straight path along the sidewalk. The click of your heels against the pavement is uneven, despite your efforts to maintain some kind of composure, and unfortunately for you, he’s right, and it's freezing outside. You make steady progress down the block, placing all your focus on not falling flat on your face. Thankfully, he doesn't live all that far.

“D’you think I look pretty, too?” You ask, approaching the steps to his apartment.

“What are you trying to do?” he asks, looking down at you. He takes in the slight flush of your cheeks as the effects of the alcohol battle the chill in the air.

“I’m trying to flirt with you. And you didn’t answer my question.”

“Oh, you're going to be difficult all night, aren't you?” He sighs, ignoring the question. He pauses outside the door, keys in hand, and unlocks the door before guiding you inside. 

“You don't ever want to flirt with me.”

The door falls shut behind you with a clunk. The room is dark, with only the distant light from a lamp somewhere across the room illuminating it. You squint when he turns on the big light.

“That’s not true,” he says, quietly. If you weren’t hanging on to his every word, you might have missed it. He carefully unzips the jacket, tugging it off your shoulders and setting it on the table.

“So why won’t you flirt with me right now?” 

“Because you’re drunk,” He guides you towards the couch, his touch still careful as ever. 

You flop down onto the cushions. The leather sticks to your legs as you sit. Being the gentleman he is, he has already left pajamas out, his pajamas, you’d since claimed as your own, with the blanket you steal every time you stay over. 

“So what?” You begin working at the clasp on your heels, fumbling with the leather straps to no avail. 

“So, you’re drunk.” He repeats, reappearing in front of you. He sits on the edge of the coffee table in front of you, and hands you a pack of makeup wipes. “Do you need help with your shoes?” 

You nod. A soft breath of laughter escapes him as he leans in to help you take them off, setting them on the carpeted floor. 

“Spence,” you look at the pack of wipes. “Why do you have these?”

“Because every time you’re here you forget them,” he replies. 

“Oh.” You rip them open. “You don’t have a secret girlfriend?”

“No,” he replies, lowering your foot back to the ground. 

“You don't let other drunk girls sleep over?” You paw at your eyeliner, effectively smearing it around more than removing it. 

“I don't let anyone sleep over,” he says, taking the wipe from you. “Just you. Close your eyes.”

“Because you love me?” 

His fingers find the underside of your chin, gently tilting your face towards his so he can finish swiping away the last of your eyeliner. Maybe you’re blushing as a result of the alcohol warming your bloodstream, but the more likely answer is him, at this proximity. 

As soon as he’s done wiping your eyes, you open them again to look up at him. 

“You’re bold when you’re drunk,” he says, smiling. He sets the used wipe down on the table.

“Mhm. You didn’t answer my question.”

“I’m not going to,” He says. “Sorry. Go get changed.”

“That wasn’t a ‘no’,” you say. You collect the clothes off the couch and slink across the apartment into the bathroom to change. You don’t bother shutting the bathroom door before slinking off the dress you were wearing and sliding on the pajamas he’d left for you. Once you finish, you collect your dress off the floor and make your way back towards the couch, settling right into the cushions as you frequently did on nights like this. 

You were formulating another complaint about his lack of reciprocation, but your thoughts were interrupted as he pulled the blanket on his couch over you. Your blanket, or at least one you’d claimed as your own during one of your nights spent here. He had already turned off the ceiling fan, which you’d always insisted off when you slept over. You followed him with your gaze as he turned the lights off, swapping them instead for a smaller, softer light somewhere in the kitchen, remembering the way you’d always insisted he leave a light on somewhere, just for you. Your phone was already charging on a side table, your heels sitting nicely by the door, your keys on his key holder, evidence of you, everywhere, details that were distinctly for your comfort. Maybe you had missed his signals. 

“I think you do love me…” 

He reappeared a moment later, crouching in front of you with that look. He rolled his eyes, but he was smiling. “Go to sleep.”

“And I love you. And I called you because I wanted to tell you that.” 

“You really need to sleep it off. You’re saying things you don’t mean.”

“But I do mean it,” you whined. “I swear. Ask me again tomorrow.”

“You won’t remember this tomorrow,” he laughed. 

“But I will. I promise,” you replied. “No bedtime kiss?”

Of course, this time you did pick up the way he looked at you. 

“No, honey. Maybe tomorrow.”

[dmitriene]

Ghost with a girlfriend who is 1.50 😈😈

cw: size kink.

being shorter than most people around and the average height can be more than uncomfortable, sometimes, especially near simon riley, a man that never can hold his hands at his sides, fingers reaching to hold onto your waist and lift you up when you try to reach somewhere, to carry you around, as if without it, you can't see the world around you probably, and sometimes, it's looks like he treats you without needing seriousness.

and even then, it's hard to complain, you're used to tend to the things for yourself, learning how to find right clothes that would suit your short height well, reaching over to the top shelves in grocery shops, making people see you for the way you act, not for your appearance they try to tease you about, but simon looks like overly excited gigant around you, having this unfamiliar, cuteness aggression that makes his hands always reach out for you.

you can't find it in yourself to be angry, truly, not when he helps you so eagerly, even when each time he get's you scooped up in his humongous arms, it's accompanied by the gravelly chuckle that vibrates through his chest, and he has to kiss away the small crease between your eyebrows, apologetic, as his wide palms squeeze over the tiny curve of your delicate waist, no matter the weight at all, it's small for him nonetheless, fitting right along the width of his grasping fingers.

and simon is so utterly smitten, unable to believe how hooked he is by your appearance alone, how easily his sinewy, brawny body can enshroud yours in the shadow of him, how his one hand covers almost the entirety of your chest when splayed over, squish your face, make you wear his clothes around the house to just see the way your body drowns in the too big fabric, his every shirt almost a dress for you.

the sex is something you can't discuss, too embarrassed to even remember of it, because he's absolutely unhinged, feral, hungry for the sight of your stomach bulging out with the heavy outline of his cock, pounding in your tight, fluttering cunt, dribbling rivulets of viscous slick that coats down the rigid girth of him, calloused palms mapping every inch of your overstimulated, twitching body, meeting his rapid, pounding thrusts with sweetest keens, and you can't push him away.

not when simon practically drools over you, silencing your slurring, pitched moans with deep, tongue twisting kiss, plunging your mouth full just the way he stuffs your soppy cunt to the very brim, palming over your cramping, sensitive tummy, pressing as a tease at the outline of his cock, making your gummy walls ripple, spasming violently as you gush, clawing up his sinewy shoulders and neck with crescent, scarlet dents of sharp nails, but he only purrs.

limbs boneless, buzzing with the last sparks of white hot pleasure that simmers low from your gut, and you can't move from beneath his heavy weight, draped over your smaller form to cloak and press you down, his touch still on you, trailing over your curved sides, feeling cottony and unresponsive, and so, you can't do anything except loop your shaking hands around his neck and nuzzle in the crook, succumbing to his affection.

main masterlist. quidelines.