#how casually intimidating

[danieyells]

Fun little factoid about Sho

In the game files there's some audio that's just like. "Generic Story Voices". The same ones that I got Kaito and Towa's incantations from. Generic audios were used in campus chats before they got fully voiced I believe, but now they're not used anywhere as far as I know.

One of Sho's is labeled 'Hyde'

And he uses 'Aniki' for him???

My understanding is generally that 'aniki' is kind of respectful and the fact that he uses a respectful term for the brother that he hates struck me as odd when I first found the file(then again he uses 'senpai' for pretty much every student older than him so far, so maybe he's just respectful in general?? Or maybe it's more of a sarcastic thing for Hyde?)

And then we got the 'I'm counting on you Shohei' bit and I was like. O h. Either he's actually fond of/respects Hyde a lot and has no problem being obedient towards him or he just. Speaks to him respectfully out of intimidation maybe? Or habit since he speaks restfully to other people? Idk. Why does he refer to him so respectfully. . . . . . . .i wanna know. . . . .tell us what their secret dealings are zzg. . . . .based on the way he talks to him in the campus chat he doesn't respect him like that but they were also in like a main hall of the building? Maybe in private he speaks and acts totally different?

[moeblob]

And then his husband enters his life and is like "do you have toe beans as a dragon? is that a thing? do reptiles have toe beans?" and Sascha looks at him like "I do not know the meaning of those words in that order..."

edit: ...I forgot my own OCs scar (now included)

[actualbird]

tomorrow im going to my very first TV commercial shoot at like an actual studio with set design and the talents and theyre gonna do the commercial i wrote, like i'll be able to see What I Wrote come to Actual Life Before My Very Eyes and im really excited!! it's my first time experiencing the production side of advertising work so im looking forward to how itll go

i am not, however, excited for the schedule of this shoot because. im getting picked up and starting work at 5:30am and we finish at like 8-9pm

THATS....THATS MORE THAN 12 HOURS....THATS THE WHOLE DAY.....the whole day of not just having to work but also of having to get a good grade at talking to people and socializing. perhaps even //winces, NETWORKING.

im just a lowly work from home copywriter.....im not built for this...how will i survive......

[timcassie]

my ideal for clark and kon’s initial meeting reactions is kon immediately feeling the worst most dizzying impostor syndrome anyone has ever felt while clark is trying to process who approved letting a baby in a leather jacket fight crime.

[lunaetis]

@apocryphis asked :

"your friend seems annoyed." moze declares out of nowhere, unprompted, certainly not encouraged, to the trailblazer pacing near him in the underbelly of the shackling prison. they are trapped, for the time being; and while there is no use panicking or getting worked up, it seems neither the reborn vidyadhara nor the galactic baseballer are coping very well with the pressure. ... that, or maybe he's reading the room completely wrong. again. eh - who cares. there are more important things at stake than bruised feelings. jiaoqiu's fate is not in their hands, and if those two cannot accept it, there is nothing he can do for them. "you seem somewhat more composed. how come?"

inbox call. || always accepting

─「エデン」─  eyes of GOLD turned towards the voice breaking the heavy silence that hung around them, a comment that caused her line of vision to then shift briefly towards her companion, noting the discomfort showing upon the ARCHIVIST's expression and demeanor becoming a little more obvious, now. he had been uneasy and on-guard ever since they entered the shackling prison, and for a good reason, too. and the realization that HOOLAY had caught someone innocent did not sit well with them.

                " one would expect you to be more concerned about your friend. " eden responded back, her own composure partially intact because she shared the same SENTIMENT with dan heng. perhaps, the fact that the assassin looked almost too casual despite the unknown fate of his companion was what rubbed them both the wrong way. they were the type to get protective over those they cared about, after all.

                " and this place brought back bad memories for him. " that was all she told him. after all, dan heng's past was not hers to share. the other's comment, however, drew her AUREATE ORBS back from cloud-piercer bearer to the speaker once more. somewhat more composed, huh. she blinked, then gazed around her to the surrounding.

                " this isn't the first underwater prison i've been to. " most likely wouldn't be the last, either. she still remembered the LABYRINTH of fortress of meropide after being sentenced as GUILTY. that was her first exposure to being thrown in jail, quite literally. the DUKE was ... something. compared to that place, and all the politics and complicated situations she found herself in FONTAINE, this place felt slightly less intimidating. it was still unpleasant, of course, but she was partially used to it. and at least this time she was here as a visitor, not an exile.

                " a lot less number of guards for a prison of such importance and size. " she recalled there were guards almost every corner at the fortress. she could almost tell her every move was being monitored, unlike now. how were they so confident they could keep this place maintained with this NUMBER ? curious. amber optics returned back to him. " you seem familiar with this place. been here before ? "

[famewolf]

I'm taking a day to just Vibe and Not Write or work on anything creative even though I'm dying to ... but d&d was so much fun yesterday that I just want to blab about it through multiple posts

I think my favorite part was finally getting to meet Or'ius' grandmother who planeshifted from the Fey Realm to meet us and temporarily took Or'ius' pacts from him with her own pact so that he could utter the name of the super secret guild that he was apart of his whole life. and now, if he takes those pacts back on at least he can still talk to his three best friends about it without losing his sight :)

everyone started making pacts left and right with Grandma Maurelle once they realized how absolutely powerful she is. lowkey wonder if Styx is going to try and make a Warlock pact with her .... which would be so fuckin cool.

we had to stop mid-convo with her because it got to be so late, but it's also a blessing because we can all think of stuff we want to talk to her about for the next two weeks.

[why-rock-look-tasty-if-no-eat]

Marine Biologists terrify me more than the elephants foot. I know I will never see the elephants foot, but who knows where a wild Marine Biologist may lurk. They can't catch me, please!

🐟🐡🦈🐠🦐🪼🦞🦀🐳🐋🐬🦭

MARINE BIOLOGY BLAST

[luvbabydoll]

crack blurb inspired by this post @sigh-tofm

you were just trying to enjoy your drink.

maybe flirt a little. maybe not. it was one of those nights—bored enough to entertain a conversation, but not quite desperate enough to start one.

so when the guy with the thick scottish accent slid up beside you at the bar, all easy charm and cocky grin, you didn’t immediately wave him off. he was cute. smug, but cute.

“my husband thinks you’re attractive,” he said, like it was the most casual thing in the world.

you blinked. “your what?”

he grinned, sipping his drink. “aye. told me to come over an’ say somethin’. said you’ve got nice eyes.”

your stomach dropped a little. husband? plural? open marriage? what kind of sitcom were you walking into?

he tilted his head toward the other end of the bar. “that’s him, by the way.”

you followed his gaze.

and immediately wished you hadn’t.

standing there like they owned the building—6’4, easily 250lbs of pure intimidation, wearing a goddamn skull balaclava in public like it was fashion week. black combat boots. gloves. arms crossed. and staring at you like you’d run over w dog and laughed about it.

you turned back slowly. “that’s… your husband?”

he nodded, like a proud husband. “ghost.”

you stared at him. “ghost?!”

“aye,” he said, like you were the one being weird. “don’t worry, they’re lovely. bit quiet. but he likes you.”

you risked another glance.

ghost hadn’t moved. hadn’t blinked. just stood there. watching. like they were waiting. and if you so much as breathed the wrong way, you’d be eating through a straw.

“he… doesn’t look like he likes me.”

johnny chuckled. “nah, he’s just thinkin’. probably already planned how he’d carry ye out the bar. over his shoulder, princess-style.”

your whole soul left your body.

“i think i’m good,” you said, already stepping away. “tell your husband thanks, but i’m not ready to meet god tonight.”

“he likes a challenge,” he called after you, way too cheerfully.

you didn’t stop walking until the air felt less murdery.

[rin-eko]

Sylus, who doesn't just call you kitten from the start, but also treats you like one. He can't help it. Not when you remind him exactly of a fierce, scraggly stray kitten, hissing and arching its back at him whenever he comes close.

After coming to understand how uncomfortable you felt around him, he decided to adopt a different approach to getting close with you. A less forceful approach- a plan you didn't realise was implemented even when you were finally pliant and comfortable around him like a relaxed fat cat.

He had to coax you, silently and gently encourage you to put away your claws and start trusting him.

When you were at the base and basically sticking to the opposite side of the room as him as if you were glued there, sometimes he'd pretend to be deeply curious about something in front of him, such as a book or artefact, and pretend to pour over it as he clicked his tongue softly.

As expected, and just like a cat, the sound would catch your attention, and when you realised he wasn't making the sound to gain your attention but just casually clicking his tongue because he was interested in something else, you would slowly approach with a little furrow in your brow. He tried not to laugh as you took slow steps around the edge of the room to come closer, you yourself pretending to be interested in other books and things to seem as if you just casually ended up near him, meanwhile you had been eyeing him from the corner of your eye the whole time, little interest in anything else.

Treats. You hadn't though deeply about why Sylus' pantries were stocked with your favourite snacks. After a few visits to his home, you would naturally make your way to the kitchen to grab your favourite treats without a care in the world, happily munching them like a stray cat that had been lured over by temptation.

At the base, you would also be able to find your favourite toys (the cool guns in his armoury) and your favourite games, such as kitty cards. The blankets and pillows in the guest room you stayed in were all made of your favourite soft material, so expensive it felt like sleeping on a cloud. Sylus even tried spraying his cologne in certain areas of the house so you would become accustomed to his scent.

When in his home, Sylus would make sure to give you plenty of alone time while still ensuring you were aware of his presence, so as not to intimidate you but also to make sure you knew he was around if you wanted to approach him.

And you did, sometimes peeping over his shoulder like a curious cat to see what he was doing. Or sitting on the kitchen counter watching him as he cooked. The distance slowly closed before you even realised it. But he knew, and he was torn between smugness and the happy trilling in his heart.

You remained blissfully ignorant as the comforts around you grew. You naturally relaxed into your surroundings and his presence, not even noticing Sylus had planned it this way from the start.

Even now, he watches you- in your own small home this time- lounging on a fluffy, pink bean bag situated in a spot of the living area that catches the sun's soft glows through the window, and can't help but liken you to a cat. Especially when the sun moves through the sky and your eyes crack open, an unhappy frown creasing the top of your nose because you are now in a shady spot and even with a blanket covering you, that will just not do.

He watches you stretch languidly, yawning, before dragging the bean bag to a new patch of sun and once again settling on it, falling into a comfortable nap once more.

He's come from the kitchen, and he approaches you to place a warm cup of tea beside you quietly. One of your eyes peek open to take him in.

"Sylussss," you whine sleepily, rolling onto your back. He squats in front of you and rubs the top of your head.

"Mm?"

You don't say anything else, just falling back into slumber, but he smiles and continues to pat your head. It's something he does often, and he wonders if you even realise that you've come to always expect these head pats, bouncing up to him when you're proud of something you've done and want his praise, waiting for his warm hand to tell you you did well.

Or when the two of you are just relaxing together, sometimes he'll scratch beneath your chin and you'll preen, lips twisting up in contentment and enjoyment, eyes falling shut as you lean toward him for more. You may as well have purred and rubbed against him in silent askance for more.

Of course, if you became aware of the fact he was treating you like a cat, you would start pretending to not like these small affections, so Sylus keeps quiet with his teasing.

Although, he thinks of how cute you'd be, turning away with a pout after discovering he had been treating you like a pet. He could almost see an imaginary tail flicking irritably. Maybe you'd even growl unhappily.

He chuckled quietly. Truly a kitten.

[gumii-bearr]

thinking about... ❝ roommates ❞

featuring... megumi fushiguro

content warning: MDNI (18+), roommate!megumi, megumi is bad at feelings (who is surprised), subtle!alt!megumi, dick piercing (what who said that??), fingering, blowjob, alcohol

author's note: i freaking love this anon so i'm doing a drabble while i write the megumi car sex fic

── roommate!megumi who is super cold and dismissive when you first move in. you needed a place for college and your friend hooked it up but she neglected to tell you he was fucking hot.

── roommate!megumi barely talks to you, and when he does, it's brief and short and makes you think he hates you for some reason. but what you're really annoyed about is how attractive he is and he gives you nothing.

── roommate!megumi who is so fucking hot when he's fixing the sink or when he casually mentions your car is making a weird sound and he fixes it like it's nothing and shit– he takes his shirt off to wipe the grease off his hands and the man is sex on a stick with ink adorning his body like some kind of emo greek god.

── roommate!megumi who comes back from the gym in compression shirts and low hanging sweatpants and you're trying to focus on your college assignment but he's being really distracting when he lifts the bottom of his shirt to wipe his face, showing off his sculpted abs.

── you're starting to think he's doing it on purpose when he wordlessly brings you takeout or offers to drive you to campus when it's raining because "driving in this weather would be fucking stupid."

── but things are still weird between you and roommate!megumi because even tho he can be strangely considerate, he's also impossible to read. that is why you buy him a fancy bottle of liquor to thank him for letting you stay in the spare room.

── roommate!megumi who loosens up after a little alcohol, take out and movies, the two of you talking and drinking until well into the night.

── roommate!megumi who gets a little bold, moving some of your hair out of your face and telling you that you're cute when you get flustered because he's not dumb, he sees your sly glances and how you choke on air when he walks into the kitchen without a shirt on.

── but also roommate!megumi who is just as fucking guilty of checking you out when you come home from the club with your friends in a tiny fucking dress and heels, or when you lounge around in the tiniest shorts he's ever seen and a tight tank top.

── you operating on liquid courage and finally admitting that you find him pretty hot, "you gotta know i'm into you by now, fushiguro."

── roommate!megumi who thinks you're so cute, "yeah, i can tell." and he's running his thumb over your lips and suddenly you two are tipsy and clumsily making out on the couch.

── roommate!megumi who is so handsy, groping your tits through your shirt, grabbing at the flesh of your ass over your flimsy pyjama pants and manhandling you into his lap to grab at your hips and pull your shirt over your head.

── roommate!megumi who always wears rings on his fingers and they're so cold against your warm skin as he plays with your tits and pushes his hand down your panties.

── roommate!megumi who gets you off on his fingers alone while you whine and hump against his hard-on.

── and roommate!megumi who presses his fingers against your tongue until you suck his fingers clean of your arousal.

── and now you're sliding down his body until you're perched between his legs on your knees, his fingers tangling in your hair as he chuckles at your still quivering legs and hands as you reach for his hard cock in his boxers.

── and of course, roommate!megumi who has a secret frenum piercing. a cute silver barbell staring you dead in the eyes.

── and while you're beyond intimidated, you're fucking salivating at the idea of having him down your throat, but knowing you, you've always gotta be a teasing smart ass, "didn't take you for a jewellery kinda guy, megumi."

── roommate!megumi who chuckles lowly and sits back, "piercing isn't for me, baby."

── roommate!megumi who quickly becomes your scary dog privilege boyfriend and fucks you against every surface in your apartment like his life fucking depends on it.

author's note: and they were roommates (p.s. should i make this a series?? cus he got me feelin some typa wayyy)

[noposergods]

holy WOW i havent posted in a little while. not to worry though im happy to report ive gotten weirder about men in the downtime

[luveline]

hotch's little sister x spencer perhaps?

—Hotch’s sister graduates college, and Spencer is immediately smitten. fem, 1.6k

“She’s pregnant.” Emily shakes her bag of chips around. “But it’s not his baby.” 

Spencer frowns down at his sandwich. Rye bread is hard to cut, and the plastic knife isn’t putting up a good fight. “That’s awful,” he says. “He must be heartbroken.” 

“He’s distraught. Now he can’t decide if he wants to stay and raise the new baby with their first, or leave her and have split custody.” 

“What channel did you say it was on?” 

“It’s on NightDrama. I’ll find out the number.” 

Emily folds the empty packet of chips into a rectangle, then that rectangle into a triangle, folding the edges inside of a fold to create a parcel perfect for flicking at him. Spencer waits for it, tensing, but what he sees behind Emily steals his attention. 

She whips her head to follow him. 

You are, as Spencer watches you walk in, without a doubt one of the prettiest girls he’s ever seen. And it’s not like you’re a model, you don’t walk with any such confidence, but it strikes him immediately. You’re pretty. And he’s never seen you in the office before. 

They get visitors occasionally but the majority of people so deep into this office would've been checked at security and cleared to come up here. You hold a visitors badge in your hand, which you promptly clip onto your shirt when you see people looking at you. Your frown makes you prettier. Something about the way you stand seems familiar, but Spencer can’t put his finger on what it is. 

“Should we go help?” Emily asks. 

“Who do you think she’s for?” Spencer asks back. He’s thinking you’re here to speak to JJ. They have people like this occasionally who JJ knows from past cases, drifting in on a hope that there’s more detail to be found. 

Emily stands up from her chair. Spencer follows suit. When you see her facing toward you, some of your apprehension melts into relief. 

“Hi,” you say breathily, summoning a smile that, again, seems familiar. Not in looks, but practise, maybe. 

“Hi there, can we help? You look lost,” Emily says. 

She sounds more friendly than Spencer could’ve hoped to achieve. He doesn’t even wanna think about it, from how pretty you are he would’ve stumbled over even the most basic hello. 

“I’m here to see Aaron Hotchner. He told me his office is up the stairs, is that still one of these ones,” —you nod gently at the stairs that do, in fact, lead to his office— “or somewhere else?” 

“That’s the right one, the very first door.” 

“Okay,” you give a soft laugh. “Thank you. This place makes me nervous.” 

You leave to travel up the steps. Emily and Spencer watch without any casualness as you approach Hotch’s office door, and give a little knock. 

It’s more surprising to see it tugged open so quickly after. Hotch usually says, “Come in.” 

“Oh, you’re here,” Hotch says. It’s to Spencer’s shock and Emily’s clear joy when he leans in for a hug. The bearhug kind, no politeness or manners about their intimidating boss as his arms cross behind your shoulders and he pulls you in. “You’re late.” He squeezes you. 

You let it happen. “I hate your building.” 

“What the hell?” Emily whispers. 

“I’m so happy to see you. Come on, come in, I ordered lunch for us already.” 

Emily is shameless. She takes Spencer by the wrist and encourages him to the wall below Hotch’s office as he ushers you inside. The door remains ajar, perfect for snooping, and Spencer doesn’t know what it is but he lets Emily drag him forward anyhow. 

“If that’s his girlfriend, he should be ashamed,” Emily whispers. 

Spencer raises his brows. “Did you think that was romantic?” 

“I’ve never seen him show affection to anyone who wasn’t Haley, and when was the last time she was here?” 

Spencer tosses it around in his mind. Sure, it was quite affectionate by Hotch’s standards, but the hug was so… uncareful. He’d grabbed you and hugged you like he was gonna shake you around for fun, like a dad hugs his daughter. “How old is Hotch?” Spencer asks. 

“You don’t think that’s his secret kid.” 

“No,” Spencer says, though he sort of does. 

Emily gestures for him to hush as your laugh drifts down from the office. “You did?” you’re asking. “It’s so nice to be home.” 

“Of course I did. It’s like I promised, okay? You finished college like I asked you too, you’ve done so well, and now I’m gonna make sure you’re happy. Like I tried to do for Sean.” 

“Sean,” you sigh. “He didn’t even answer my grad card.” 

“I don’t know what to say about him, I really don’t.” 

A small pause. “Well, at least you answered.” 

“You know I would’ve come to watch you walk–”

“But you couldn’t. It’s fine, Aaron, I wasn’t really expecting you to make it.” 

“I’m sorry. Really. And I’m proud of you, after everything.”

“Thank you… The bag was better than you being there anyways. Coach?” You laugh breathily. “My friends keep asking me if you can be their big brother too.” 

Emily and Spencer turn to each other, mouths agape, Emily slapping his arm as they struggle to make no noise. Since when does Aaron have a sister? A young sister freshly graduated? 

Hotch laughs too. “Come and sit before your lunch gets cold.” 

Emily gets out her phone to text Morgan, she and Spencer pressed to the wall with their heads ducked. Hotch is a total enigma, because what the hell sort of secret is that?

When Morgan appears, it’s with all the answers. He rolls his eyes at their clear position of eavesdropping but leans against Emily’s desk to give them the information they’re craving anyways. “She’s adopted. Hotch was already in college at the time, but they’re close. They get along a lot better than Hotch does with Sean, that’s for sure.” 

“He sounds protective,” Emily says, side-eying the office. 

“Look, it’s not my business, but I just know it was bad when she was a teenager. Hotch is a drill sergeant for a reason.” Ah, Spencer thinks. The Hotchner father. 

Spencer picks at his hands. It explains the conversation he shouldn’t have been listening to, to a degree. He feels the guilt of knowing something he wasn’t meant to like a sodden weight, retreating swiftly to his desk and his forgotten sandwich.

It’s nice to hear Hotch laughing, but it’s your laugh that draws him in again while he tries so hard not to listen. It’s as attractive to Spencer as your frown had been when you walked in. He thinks about how you finished college, how you’re here, and he wonders if he’ll see more of you —how often will you come in for lunch? Spencer checks his hair in his sleeping monitor and feels like an idiot. 

“I’m sorry,” Hotch says a little while later, elbowing open the door with his back to the office, “we’ll have dinner soon, honey, I promise.” 

You reach up to give him another quick hug. “It’s fine. It’s just nice to be in the same city again.” 

Hotch guides you down to the bullpen with the same pride with which he introduced Jack. It’s unmissable, the love he has for you in just one touch against your shoulder. “Y/N,” he says, pausing at the bullpen, “Derek Morgan you’ve met. This is Emily Prentiss and Spencer Reid.” 

“Spencer Reid?” you ask suddenly, looking up into Hotch’s face like he’s lying, your brows pulled together in indignation, before you turn back to Spencer reverently. “You’re Dr. Spencer Reid?” 

He gets caught on his own breath. “Uh, yes?” 

“The Dr. Spencer Reid who wrote Methods of Continued Fraction Expansions?” 

Spencer feels heat like a kiss to each cheek. “Yes.” 

You turn to Hotch with a suspicious pout. “When I told you about the paper I was reading by a Dr. Reid a few months ago, you didn’t stop to think it could be your Dr. Reid? Or you just don’t like me?” 

That’s a sister’s scorn if Spencer’s ever heard it. 

“I thought you said Rain.” 

“I don’t think you did.” You turn back to Spencer. “I can’t believe it, I emailed you about Jacobi elliptical functions, you were so helpful, I owe you my degree.” You put your hand out with a beaming, beautiful smile, Spencer’s stomach totally flips. “It’s amazing to meet you in person.” 

He’s a germaphobe, he is, and that doesn’t just go away when you meet someone lovely, but he shakes your hand. You surprise him too quickly to think beyond taking your hand letting it happen. You’re, like, glowing. 

Hotch gives him a funny look. Mostly impassive, but not quite. 

Spencer abruptly lets you go. “I don’t think you would’ve needed my help to get there in the end. You clearly knew what you were doing.”  

Hotch’s eyebrows silently rise. 

You turn back to Hotch again, your smile catching. “I like your friends.” 

He smiles. “Let me walk you down to the lobby, honey.” 

You let him guide you away, giving the present members of the BAU a wave with just your fingers before you go. 

Morgan and Emily look at him heavily. “Spencer,” Emily says. “What was that?” 

He doesn’t want to say what he thinks it was, so he doesn’t. “She was nice.” 

Morgan’s laughter is immediate. Spencer has to walk off to the kitchen for a cup of tea he doesn’t drink to escape him and the connotation of his laughing. Spencer hopes he’ll see you again soon, though if he’s half a good a profiler as he thinks he is, he might end up in trouble with your brother.

[laceyfaeryy]

MDNI 18+

SIMON RILEY DISPLAYING ALL FIVE LOVE LANGUAGES

౨ৎ⠀ׄ⠀. ━ simon riley displays all five love languages to his luvie

words of affirmation

simon was not good with words, but with you it was different. he wanted to tell you how perfect you were, how pretty and kind hearted you were to a scarred man like him. it first started off a little rough and awkward, him blurting it out. “yer look pretty.” the way you smiled shyly with your cheeks tinged a soft pink colour made him want to repeat it like a mantra. he didn’t care that it was random, how you were in your pyjamas at 2pm whilst stuffing your face with the leftovers from last night. you still looked utterly perfect in his eyes.

the way you seemed to glow with confidence after a few days after from his words made his ego swell. simon had you doing small clothing hauls after your shopping trips, making you spin with the new dresses. “you gotta get it in another colour luvie, you look perfect.” it would be small compliments here and there, or some more intimidate ones. you cuddled up in his bed whilst he whispered soft words to you, his calloused hand gently rubbed your back when you told him about your struggles. “yer doin’ so well luvie, toughest girl i know.”

simon treated sex like a sacred thing, gently whispering soft words into your ear as he plunged deep inside your small cunt, snuggly fitting around him. “my pretty luvie, perfect for me, your body, your face, your heart.”

physical touch

never in simon’s life did he think he would be a needy man, but here he is craving your touch constantly. it somehow seamlessly seeped into his routine, reaching out for your hand whilst the two of you walked on the street, constantly having his arms around your waist at the small local bars, or casually touching your thigh when you sat next to him. sometimes it felt like having a constant shadow around you. “hurry up and get to bed luvie, ‘s cold without you.”

sometimes his touches were intentional and not the ones he did just casually without thinking. he took extra care of you during sex, his calloused hands gently rubbing over your soft thighs and plush hips, like he was trying to engrave it into his memory. it felt like a sin having his hands who were responsible for the darkest things when he was in the military, and yet he couldn’t help but to worship your body.

acts of service

though simon loved using his words and hands to show his love to you, he was a strong believer in actions are louder than words. hence why he tried to make your life a little easier, even if it seamed a little mundane. he would have your coffee prepared early in the morning when you had to leave for work, just so you could have a little more time in bed sleeping. or he would have a nice relaxing bath prepared after you came home, essential oils and candles filling up the bathroom. simon loved your independence, but sometimes it annoyed him. having you come home all tired just for you to insist cleaning up the house. “i’ve got it luvie, go and relax yeah? let me take care of you.”

quality time

after deployment and first spending time without you during the early months in your relationship, simon realised how much he needed you around him. you didn’t need to be snugged up right by him - not that he minded at all, but even having you around him like being in the same room. you reading your book on the lounge whilst simon cleaned his collection of small knives. it was your presence that mattered the most. simon considered anything a days watching a movie on the couch? date. cooking dinner together? date. simon didn’t care what you were doing, as long as you were with him. he tried to turn small boring activities like housekeeping into something meaningful. the two of you opening up your deepest secrets and bonding through something small simple was something simon never took for granted.

gift giving

simon made tremendous amount of money in the military, and he was never one to splurge on himself, but on you? he didn’t even have for think twice. you would often ask him about what to get, holding up to dresses, “which one si?” he had no idea why you were even asking him, without saying anything he took them out of your hands and walked to the cashier. he loved spoiling his bird, having you all pampered and taken care of was something that he took great pride in. though it wasn’t something mindless, as much as simon loved spoiling you and buying whatever your heart desired, many of his purchases had intentions. like the pink to go coffee mug so you can take your coffee with you to work, or the heated blanket because he noticed how you snuggled deep into the blankets during the cold winter nights. essentially, simon was an attentive man to his bird’s needs.

tag list:

@happysmappy @mydickishuge560 @dolli333 @madebyyicarus @l-otti @butlerslut @vampwifee @i-wanabe-yours @bluebarrybubblez @cinnamongrl2006 @akkahelenaa @yanfeiiiiii @actualpoppy @lilyalone @other-fandoms-reblogs @goonette6969 @doubledizzy22 @lucienofthelakes @arabellatreaty @tessakate @kayden666 @ghostsd8s @ama-eve @webmvie @your-internet-tenshi @novthewolf @1ilo @simpingreader @angeldoll1e @avgdestitute @anonymouse1807 @chaieanne @i-live-in-spite

[mooningningg]

"ᴅɪᴅ ʏᴏᴜ ᴊᴜꜱᴛ ᴄᴀʟʟ ʜᴇʀ ʙᴀʙʏ?"

...In which someone calls you 'baby' in front of them.

sukuna, toji, gojo, and nanami.

genre, fluff. notes, jealous jjk men series?

Sukuna.

You had to beg him to wear the stupid headband. “You’ll look so cute,” you’d said. “I’ll look like a fucking idiot,” he replied. And yet… here he is. Sukuna Ryomen. The King of Curses (or, well, King of Trash Talk), six-foot disaster with literal pink cat ears on his head and a soda in one hand.

You're mid-laugh when someone calls out, “Hey, baby!”

You turn — and your ex is standing there. Grinning like a damn fool, like he didn’t cheat on you with a girl who draws her eyebrows on with Sharpie.

Sukuna’s soda stops mid-sip. His entire soul pauses.

“The fuck did you just call her?”

Your ex blinks. “Uh… it’s just a—”

“Just a what? A brain cell you’re missing? You blind, dumb, or both?”

He’s marching over now, cat ears bouncing, which should make it less intimidating but somehow makes it worse.

“You don’t get to call her that. You had your shot, buddy. And you fumbled it like a crusty little clown.”

“Sukuna,” you hiss, but he’s fully activated.

“This is my girl now. Mine. Look at me. Look at these ears. Do you think I wear this shit for just anyone?”

Your ex sputters. “I-I was just being friendly—”

“No, you were being a bottom-shelf loser with the emotional maturity of a wet sock. Scram.”

And he does. Walks away without a word. Sukuna adjusts his cat ears, scowling. “Tch. That guy had the same energy as a lukewarm gas station hot dog.”

You burst out laughing, grabbing his hand. He squeezes it — and for a second, you catch a soft grin beneath all that bite.

Toji.

You’re standing in line for churros. Toji’s behind you, arms around your waist, chin resting lazily on your shoulder.

A guy walks up — some old college friend you haven’t seen in forever. You go in for a quick hug.

“Damn, baby, you look good.”

Toji straightens up. You feel it immediately: the shift. The silence.

Then:

“The fuck did you just say?"

The guy chuckles nervously. “It’s just a joke, man—”

Toji’s hand slides back to your waist, pulling you snug against his chest. He leans in, whispering — but loud enough for the guy to hear:

“You got jokes, huh? Want me to tell one? Knock knock.”

Your friend blinks. “…Who’s there?”

“The guy who calls my girl ‘baby’ again. Say it one more time, and I’ll show you the punchline.”

You slap his chest, but he doesn’t budge.

The guy’s laugh dies completely. “Uh, yeah, okay — see you around.”

“No, you won’t.”

Toji’s lips graze your temple as the guy speed-walks away. He grabs your churros from the counter and hands them to you with a smirk.

“How many people you flirted with in college?”

You grin. “Only, like, five.”

“…Make that four. One just relocated to Canada out of fear.”

Gojo.

You’re holding his hand, swinging it back and forth, when someone shouts from behind you:

“Baby! Yo, it’s been forever!”

You turn around — and it's that guy from your campus club. The one who always joked about marrying you one day. Ha ha. (Gojo never laughed.)

“Oh my god, hi!” you greet. “This is—”

“Baby?” Gojo interrupts, smiling wide. “That your government name for her, or are you just publicly embarrassing yourself?”

The guy chuckles awkwardly. “It’s just a nickname, no offense.”

“Sure, sure,” Gojo hums. “And I call your mom ‘Sweet Cheeks,’ but we’re not making it official either.”

You slap his arm, but he’s not done. He casually loops both arms around you from behind and starts pressing kisses to your cheek — obnoxiously loud ones.

“My baby, huh?” kiss “The one who wakes up drooling on my chest?” kiss “The one who stole my hoodie and never gave it back?” kiss

Your friend is fully regretting this interaction. You giggle, red in the face, and Gojo beams.

“But hey,” he says with that dangerously sweet smile. “Thanks for reminding her how lucky she is.”

The guy flees. Gojo rests his chin on your head and says, smug as hell:

“I should’ve called him sport. Or champ. Next time.”

Nanami.

It happens at the souvenir stall. You’re comparing overpriced keychains when a voice pipes up behind you:

“Still cute as ever, baby.”

You turn around, confused — and it’s someone from your old job. That guy who always tried to flirt when Nanami picked you up.

Nanami’s right behind you. No expression. No hesitation.

“Don’t call her that.”

The guy blinks. “Chill, man. It’s just a joke.”

Nanami steps between you two, straightens his tie. Looks the guy dead in the eyes.

“A joke implies humor. I don’t find you amusing. She’s not your ‘baby.’ Not your anything.”

It’s not loud. It’s not aggressive. But it lands.

The guy raises his hands. “Alright, alright.”

Nanami turns to you, places a warm hand on your lower back.

“Come on. Let’s go.”

You leave, no drama, just quiet satisfaction. Later, when you’re eating dango on a bench, he wipes your cheek with a napkin and murmurs,

“You’re mine. I have no intention of sharing that.”

[itsoutrageouss]

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley being ready to go on his knees for his favorite nurse… but he has no idea how to show it.

Then he sees you at the pub.

It settled inside of him as a feeling of uselessness because he’s so used to knowing what to do. He takes action. He fixes things. And now he gets all flustered when you tend to his wounds, absentmindedly stroking his thigh and talking to him so so sweetly. Calling him a good boy when you finish the stitches, biting your lip as you focused on making them as neat as you could for him. He would stare at you the whole time, his cheeks heating because no one ever showed him this much care and you didn’t even seem to struggle with it- it was all natural.

You had labelled him ‘favorite patient’ in your phone but he didn’t know that. He figured you behaved like that with all the soldiers who came in- the reason you were such a good nurse.

After a well succeeded mission, the task force and the bases Staff all crowd down to the nearest pub. It was an excuse for you to finally be out of your work attire, adorning a black lacy top that made you feel sexy along with your glossy lips. He was already there, leaned back in a booth with Soap and Price as you walk in, looking around nervously.

He has to grit his teeth as he sees you. Fuck fuck fuck. This was gonna be a long night. He fisted his hands beneath the table.

This feeling of hopelessness, of not knowing what to do was so foreign that it bubbled into anger. Price frowned, noticing the rigid way his Lieutenant suddenly sat. Soap was too busy telling some story to notice anything, slamming down a hand, the beers rattling. Your colleagues crowded you into a booth that so conveniently faced him.

Why did he look at you like that? He was positively fuming, glowering, brows lowered and face set. You cowered under his gaze, eyes flickering away nervously.

His lips parted in soft surprise. Why did you look so nervous? Had he done something?

Because of course he was no clue how damn intimidating his so called love stare stare is. He follows you as you walk to the bar, leaning over, your skirt riding up. He has to blink up at the ceiling because it felt simultaneously like a gift from above, being allowed to see you like this, and like a curse from hell.

“Oh he’s down bad for her ain’t he, that fucker?” Soap exclaims, finally catching on as he lets out a hearty laugh. Simon glares.

“I think LT needs another pint” Price muses. Soap, ever the sergent he is, groans and gets up, patting Simon heavily on the shoulder before walking up to the bar next to you.

“You got him weak in the knees, Bunny” Soap grins casually, ordering the pints. It takes you a few seconds to comprehend before you lean backwards slightly, catching Simon’s gaze. This time he averts his eyes immediately. He was fucking fuming inside, not knowing how to get these feelings to go away. The only solutions he could think of were violence or sex. And violence he’s had enough of- and he’s sure the training dummies had too. Every damn night these past days he’s been punching his knuckles bloody, hoping it would satiate his restlessness. It didn’t.

And as for sex… he didn’t- well he didn’t not want that but that’s not where he wanted to start. He always threw himself into hookups or fiery flings that burned out too quickly, leaving embers he didn’t care for. He didn’t want that with you. He wanted to be genuine, slow, proper. And he had no idea how. He didn’t like not being good at things.

Your eyes stay on him, forcing his head to turn back to you. Your expression is unreadable, his fingers curling beneath the table before he rapidly stands up. You almost jolt at the action, the floor creaking from his weight as he stalks over to you and Soap, grumbling something.

Soap leaves, Simon trying to casually lean his elbows on the bar. “Just gonna wait for the pints” he tells you, then his jaw ticks because why did he say that? You probably don’t give a fuck what he’s doing there.

You smile softly, intrigued. “How’s your shoulder?”

It startled him, his head whipping to yours like you said something totally out of sorts. His shoulder? Right— It takes him way too long to answer.

“Fine. You did a good job. As always,” he said gruffly, looking down at the chipped wood of the bar, drumming his fingers impatiently.

“You look good.” The words slip past his lips, eyes quickly giving you a once over.

“I know.” He looks at you, sees a small glint in your eyes and the smile you smother. He wants to groan out loud at the sight.

A dry, almost laugh escapes him, shaking his head softly. “F’course you do.”

There’s a long, awkward silence where you both look anywhere but at each other, spines straightening, then slumping, then you both look at the bartender to keep busy.

He places your drink in front of you, three pints clattering in front of Simon. Neither of you move to take them.

“So I’m gonna go” Simon rumbles and turns, the pints clutched in his hands. He was overheating, fumbling in ever possible way he could and he couldn’t take it. You opened your mouth but he was already halfway across the room.

The pints rattle as he sits down. “So?” Soap asks as he leans forward. Simon grumbled that this isn fucking high school. But it’s not Soap he’s mad at. It’s himself. He had you right there.

You can’t focus the rest of the evening, laughing hollowly and sipping your drink with disinterest. Did he not find you interesting? It was so hard to read him that you started to doubt if he was playing with you. Maybe this was just the way he… was.

You hadn’t noticed everyone going out for a smoke. You hadn’t noticed the way he looked at you through the window like some kind of fucking stalker, only the glow from his cigarette giving colour to his shadow.

You down the rest of your drink, pulling your coat around you. The night is crispy, air poking your cheeks like needles.

“Are you ever going to ask me out? Because if not then I’d like to know- I don’t really know if you don’t like me or if I scare you or if there’s something entirely different at play but you cannot just stare at me and expe-“ a cold, chapped pair of lips silence you. They’re gone as quickly as they came you Simon’s eyes are wide, dropping his cigarette to the ground.

“I’m sorry- do you wanna- can I ask you out? I didn’t mean to do that but you talk a lot” he said bluntly, stuttering his way through his own mortifying actions.

He kissed you. To shut up your mindless yapping he… you shake your head in disbelief.

“You are unbelievable” you say, but there’s absolutely no malice in your tone- only wonder.

“Is that a yes?” He asks, his throat feeling tight.

“Yes. It’s a good technique you have there- do you do that on everyone? Kiss them when they talk too much? I can just imagine how Soap would rea-“

He did it again, eyes closing and inhaling sharply as he covered your cold cheeks with his hands. Christ you were a talker but he didn’t mind so much, if he was allowed to quiet you like this from now on.

[gloomwitchwrites]

141 when a younger recruit has a very obvious crush on you (not dating yet)

Oh, anon. I had fun with this one. Simply because it's a "we aren't dating yet so why are you jealous" scenario just waiting to happen. That's where my mind went with this. The boys have zero claim on you but they are possessive and territorial as fuck. omg. Do you hear that? It's me standing outside screaming because I need to get a fucking grip. Anyway! Enjoy!

For the masterlist and how to submit your own request, click HERE

Task Force 141 x Reader (gn!reader except on Simon's)

Content & Warnings (MDNI): hidden feelings, jealousy, possessive behavior, intimidation, crushes, suggestive themes, swearing

Word Count: 800

ao3 // main masterlist // imagines & what if masterlist

John Price

John is the superior here. He's the one in charge.

Yet he feels completely out of control.

This isn't happening. This isn't fucking happening. He has spent months—months gently putting himself before you. Jealousy and possession are strange to him. They don’t come easy. And yet here they are, eating him from the inside out, chewing away at his resolve.

Anger and irritation are starting to seep in.

A new recruit with an obvious crush shouldn't make him this irate. There isn't any competition, but John can't help himself. All he sees is this wanker making eyes at you, speaking softly and with such tenderness that it's driving John up the fucking wall.

Which is insane. Stupid. You do not belong to him. The two of you are not dating—not anything—but somehow that doesn't matter.

His feet are moving before he even realizes it. The recruit turns in John's direction and instantly pales.

Good. Fucking good.

You turn too, brow furrowed.

"Captain?" asks the recruit, straightening his spine.

John shoves himself between, staring the recruit down, all venom. "You're wanted elsewhere."

"Y—yes. Sir."

The recruit salutes and takes off, the primal jealousy purring softly with contentment.

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

Kyle is going to grind his teeth into dust if he doesn’t unclench his jaw.

What the fuck is this bloke doing over on this side of the complex anyway? He’s a goddamn new recruit. Freshly arrived and still green.

Do you even realize he’s flirting? Kyle can tell just be the way he stands far too close, or the subtle way he touches your arm. His smile is stupidly large. The man is completely struck by you. You appear completely oblivious, having a conversation with him like there’s nothing amiss.

Nope. Kyle is pissed. Furious. Which is fucking ridiculous. The two of you are not a couple, even though Kyle wishes otherwise.

“You look right scunnered.” Soap appears at Kyle’s shoulder. “What’s wrong?”

“That,” he growls.

Soap frowns, following Kyle’s line of sight. Soap’s frown turns to a knowing smirk. He turns it on Kyle with a mischievous glint. “Want Ghost to scare the shit out of him?”

The rest of the team knows how Kyle feels about you even if they don’t comment on it.

“That would be great,” says Kyle flatly.

Soap lightly pats Kyle’s shoulder. Turning around, he cups his hands around his mouth. “Hey, Lt!”

John "Soap" MacTavish

"I could rig an explosive. Put it under his bunk. That’d be fucking brilliant,” murmurs Johnny.

"We're looking to scare him. Not to maim everyone in his immediate radius,” replies Kyle.

"What about a firework? Poppers? Oh! A stink bomb?"

"That’s fucking childish, Johnny,” mutters Simon.

Johnny isn't jealous. Really, he's not.

He's just...protective. That's what he tells himself anyway.

Kyle, Johnny, and Simon observe you from across the communal gym. A new recruit from the latest batch is hanging on the ropes of the boxing ring. His stance is casual, skin glistening with sweat as he gives you his best smile while he chats you up.

The lad is putting it on thick, and Johnny is having none of it.

You are not Johnny’s spouse. You are not dating. You are not his…anything.

But that hardly matters.

Because Johnny has stolen plenty of kisses from you. He’s put his hands on your body. He’s been far too close for the comfort of a coworker or friend. In that, there is a claim. Johnny can draw the line somewhere.

He is so close to making you his.

No one is getting in his way. Not even a charming new recruit.

Simon "Ghost" Riley (Female Reader)

"Don't do it, Simon. It's not worth it."

Johnny's words don't satiate the anger. Rage is boiling beneath Simon's skin. It is white hot—fierce. All of this emotion and yet Simon has no claim over you.

It still hurts. Still aches.

The two of you are not together—not dating. But it's Simon's name you scream with pleasure, and that counts for fucking something.

His fists clench, muscles coiled with wrought tension. Johnny places his hands on Simon's shoulders and shoves him back down in his seat. If Simon weren’t ready to flay his newest target alive, Johnny wouldn’t be so bold.

"Remove. Your. Hands," growls Simon, slowly.

Kyle grimaces, his gaze darting between Simon and Johnny. He looks ready to jump in if Johnny needs him.

"I'm doing this for you, Lt,” murmurs Johnny, even as his hands keep the pressure.

"She's mine."

"We know,” reply Johnny and Kyle in unison.

One of the new recruits is putting on his best performance, following you around like a lovesick puppy. Johnny is right. Simon can't go over there and knock the man to the ground, no matter how much he wants to.

"Take a deep breath, Lt."

"I'm trying."