Whoever Wrote This, Slayed So Hard With All These Statements, Truer Words Have Never Been Spoken

yay! using these super cute star button dividers from roseraris! <333

⋆˚ ✿ coffee themed dividers by roseraris ♡ ˖°

how it feels to shift after doing your hair, showering, shaving, putting on lotion, and changing your sheets

18+ !! <3 coming to theatres soon...

aaron hotchner ✧ .・doting, international passport, black coffee, dinner reservations, knowing glances, family home, early riser, i love you notes, late night calls, upside down smiles, pressed ties, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, classic musicals, awful flirting.

fucked my way to the top, lana del rey

still into you, paramore

knockin' on heavens door, bob dylan

something, the beatles

false god, taylor swift

new york, new york, frank sinatra

fawn's rules ✧ .・

these are mostly just based on being a decent human being, if you arent happy with these rules, please feel free to find another blog <3

✧ if you support homophobia, racism, ableism or misogyny, you are not welcome on this page.

✧ i am not comfortable taking requests from individuals who do not have their age in their bio, nsfw or not, please respect this, this is for your safety as well as mine.

✧ i do not feel comfortable writing smut that deals with incestual relationships, age play, pedophilia, scat, vomit, and or anything relating to sexualising any form of an eating disorder. so pleaseee do not ask for content relating to any of this <3

18+ !! <3 coming to theatres soon...

bond.. james, bond. ✧ .・smoke & mirrors, dirty martinis, garters, british accents, disguises, seduction, elevator sex, suicide pills, rome, revolvers, aston martins, gentle love, body worshipping, casinos, chandeliers, cigars, holding his arm instead of his hand, gloved hands, fake passports, false identities.

these boots are made for walking, nancy sinatra

bulletproof, la roux

i belong to you, caro emerald

toxic las vegas, britney spears & elvis presley

i know places, taylor swift

heads will roll, yeah yeah yeahs

why dont you do right, julie london

proper fed — simon “ghost” riley

simon ghost riley x fem!chubby reader

warnings: tried to mimick his accent in the writing but i probably failed cause im extremely southern

when ghost comes home, he’s all worn-out muscle and quiet exhaustion, his broad frame leaning against the doorway as he watches you from beneath that ever-present balaclava. but the second he sees you—curled up in one of his old shirts, all soft and waiting for him—his shoulders ease just a little.

“missed you, love,” he mutters, voice thick and gruff as he strides over, pulling you into his arms like he’s been starvin’ for the feel of you. his hands, rough and calloused from too many fights, find your waist, squeezing just enough to make you shiver.

“you’ve lost weight again,” you scold, smoothing your hands over his chest, frowning at the way his body feels sharper, leaner.

“been busy, ain’t i?” he grumbles, but you’re already dragging him toward the couch, settling yourself in his lap as you grab the plate you made for him earlier. He doesn’t argue—not when you’re all warm and snug against him, not when he can feel the soft press of your thighs over his own.

the telly’s on, some football match playing, and he barely glances at it as you lift a forkful of food to his lips. “c’mon, si,” you murmur, tapping it lightly against his mask. “up.”

with a quiet sigh, he pulls it up just enough, letting you see the sharp cut of his jaw, the hint of stubble he never quite gets rid of. and when he takes that first bite, his eyes flutter shut for a brief second, a low groan rumbling in his chest.

“bloody hell, you tryna fatten me up, sweetheart?” he mutters, cockney drawl thicker now that he’s home, safe, warm.

you grin, feeding him another bite. “maybe. can’t have you wasting away, yeah?”

his arms tighten around you, one hand settling on your hip, thumb rubbing slow circles over the softness there. “gonna make me proper spoiled, you are.”

but he doesn’t complain—doesn’t stop you from feeding him, doesn’t stop himself from pressing his face into your neck between bites, inhaling deep, like he’s trying to memorize the way you smell. and when the match ends and he’s full, relaxed, his hands stay where they are, holding you close, keeping you exactly where you belong.

yeah some people don’t believe in reality shifting but some people also don’t believe women can orgasm so I stopped trusting other peoples opinions a long time ago

“my fuckin’ pussy” simon says as he’s pounding you in a mating press. your heel-clad feet are hung over his burly shoulders, flopping with every thrust.

“mmmn, yer fuckin” pussy” you slurred back.

“oh my, we’ve gotta talker, doing a little repeat after me? fuckin’ simon says, huh?”

he’s such a tease.