#best oddly satisfying

[jwinsorart]

Emerald Gardens ink swatching. Coming to the FerriTales- Beauty and The Beast Ink collection at Ferris Wheel Press on April 5th. A leaf green ink with duochrome green/gold shimmer. A very lush and vibrant deep green color.

Click the link in the bio and use code JWA for a 10% discount. Thanks again to FWP for the ink.

#calligraphy #lettering #satisfying #handwriting #fountainpenink #fountainpens #ferriswheelpress #ferritales #inkjournal #ink swatching #best ink #oddly satisfying #ink #fwp #fwpambassador

[oddlysatisfyingbot]

How the bubbles line up while the cider is brewing. via r/oddlysatisfying

#IFTTT #reddit #oddly satisfying #Best-Subject-7253

[chilltidetrance]

#oddly satisfying #satifying #satisfying #satisfying videos #mood lift #chill music #sleep music #music for study #current mood #me right now #random #big mood #best relaxation music #oddly satisfying videos #Youtube

[kiddzyslimevs]

#slime #slime asmr #slime videos #so relaxing #satisfying video #Mmxing slime in jelly #DIY #ASMR #most oodly satisfyino #kinetic sand ASMR #so slime #oddly satisfyino #playdoh #slimy slime #jelly noddles #cutting ASMR #kinetic sand cutting #kinetic sand haribo #best asmr #kinetic sand #slime jelly cutting #chocolate #gems video #chocolate opening #chocolate competition #chocolate video #chocolate unboxing #candy lots of candy #lotsofcandies #lotsofchoclates

[asiananeurysm]

.

#dear diary I'm really tired but in a way that feels oddly satisfying #I'm tired knowing I'm working my ass off and it feels like I'm actually working towards something #i feel like every day is a step forward and i feel so good in general #i have faith that I'm doing my best and i have hope that good times are ahead #personal #just don't self sabotage...

[vinelark]

i don’t remember if i ever shared this here, but a while ago i posted a little twitter thread about bats and gas station snacks and some very talented podficcers made a podfic of it! 🎧

[podfic] Jersey Vigilantes Don't Pump Gas by isweedan & reena_jenkins

original thread (text under the cut):

nested tweet reading: ever since i learned gotham is supposed to be in new jersey i can’t get this concept out of my head: [a badly drawn bumper sticker that says “jersey vigilantes don’t pump gas”] / quote tweet reading: the batmobile can’t just slip in and out of a gas station unnoticed. an employee HAS to go fill up the tank. meanwhile the tired night shift cashier knows the various robin eras because they come in to buy different snacks as time goes on.

one night while the manager is out filling *the literal batmobile* the cashier blinks and comes face to face with a child in a leotard and green boots, buying a pack of twizzlers. “thanks!” the first robin calls, somehow vaulting over two rows of shelves on his way out the door.

years later, after a stretch of quiet weeks, a new, curly-haired robin comes in and grabs a bag of flamin hot pepper puffs. the cashier doesn’t even think robin 2 actually likes them, but he looks really satisfied with himself every time he drops them on the counter.

(even after the second robin abruptly stops coming in, the cashier keeps slipping flamin hot pepper puffs onto their order list. no one else ever buys them, but it just—feels like the thing to do, somehow.)

a stretch of months without a robin, oddly tense. then the third robin appears, even smaller than the first two. he slips inside and buys a cup of black coffee and drains it in one go right at the coffee station, nervously eyeing the door like he’s afraid he’ll be caught.

the fourth robin, when she shows up, makes a beeline for the protein bars. finally, the cashier thinks, someone remotely sensible for this line of work. (though maybe not sensible enough—or maybe TOO sensible—because small caffeine robin is back a few months later.)

the fifth robin, when he first appears, approaches the counter. “you will direct me to the best snacks new jersey has to offer,” he tells the cashier.

“uh,” the cashier says. “i like sour patch kids, myself.”

robin 5 nods. “i will take a bag of sour patch children.”

(one night, not much later, red hood strolls through the door. the cashier has lived in gotham for over a decade now; they barely blink, even when nightwing bounds in after him.

“oh, shit, flamin hot pepper puffs,” red hood says. “i haven’t had these in ages.”

“aw, come on,” nightwing says, already holding a pack of twizzlers. “no one else can stand those.”

“why do you think i got them in the first place, dickhead?” red hood says. “to fend off new jersey’s number one snack thief.” and he buys buys every bag in stock.)

#feat. my own terrible art drawn in the notes app of a decade-old ipad #the joke being that you can’t pump your own gas in new jersey #which i’m sure has been joked about plenty before #anyway the podfic is a delight and every once in a while i remember about it and re-listen for a giggle #batfam #my fic #OBVIOUSLY BRUCE HAS HIS OWN GAS PUMP IN THE CAVE #or the batmobile runs on solar (because it’s sustainable and discreet NOT because superman thinks that’s cool) #but: imagine.

[youronlydarlin]

What if sleep deprived!reader is doing work late at night again, and what if Price fucks her to sleep ;) ((This has been in my mind for a week now)) (Im using anonymous because Im still shy-)

Hnhhhhh. S' is so fuckin hot nonnie.

warning: fem! reader, kinda brat tamer! Price and a very eepy reader, somewhat dumbification, rough sex to soft sex, somnophilia at the end, not proofread 😢

You know your husband hates it when you stay up late. Moreover if it was work he couldn't convince you to finish in the morning. But were you really to blame here? It's not your fault the deadline got pushed early. Besides, you wouldn't be doing this if you didn't have to.

That was the philosophy you believed in up until your husband came in and decided to put you to bed himself.

You were always so stubborn, but you were adding a whole new flare to it earlier. Making a big show about how "you have to finish the report now, lest you want your boss to beat your ass". And he understands, really, he does. A man with his line of work would understand the calling of responsibility more than anybody. Maybe the late hours of the night has finally gotten into your head. Cause that certainly wasn't an excuse to act up, talking back, and thinking you could banish him to the bed with only the presence of one. No, young lady that attitude will not be tolerated. What happened to his good girl, huh?

But you see, John's always spoiled you. Even during one of your fights, and tantrums. Since you wanted to finish your papers so much John decides to be the bigger person, and give you exactly what. You. Want.

This leads us to now. Both of your wrists are pinned against your back, John using them as nothing but a handle to fuck you back on his fat cock. You feel like a doll, all limp as you're fucked within an inch of your life right by your work desk.

You want to sleep. To slip into dreamland. But the bright light from your opened laptop, paired up with your husbands unrelenting thrusts inside your tight pussy prevents you from even closing your eyes.

Open mouthed, and mindlessly drooling on the papers you were fussing over earlier, John thinks you look best like this. Someone as pretty as you shouldn't be working, much less overexerting herself.

He takes pity on you. His poor, sweet, baby. You're just being forced by your stupid job to comply with even stupider work. Shhh, hush now, sweet thing. Your husband's here to help.

Thrusts slowing down, he gently lets go of both of your wrists. Seeing them carelessly fall to your side makes him coo softly at you. You're being picked up before your mind can even process the action. The blur in your vision makes the colors blend in with each other, and for a moment you see the world like a kaleidoscope.

Fatigue latches onto your bones like a pesky leach. The only thing grounding you is the fat cock nestled within your core. The jostle of a mattress takes you out of your delirium, the softness of silk against your back feels like heaven. What was supposed to be a satisfied sigh quickly turns into a pleasured moan as John gives a shallow thrust into your puffy pussy.

He knows your tired, but he just couldn't help himself. Seeing his princess finally in bed like she deserves. Whining and groaning, you can't eve bring yourself to lift up your arms and tell him to give it a rest. Give you a rest. But, he's doing you a favor can't you see?

John's leaning down in a second, kissing your temple shut. You feel your body slowly succumb to his ministrations. Whispering soft praises into your ear, while he grinds himself aimlessly in your velvet walls.

The feeling of it is oddly more relaxing than stimulating. Eyes closed, you feel powerless even as John slightly picks up his pace. You've accepted defeat, finally falling into the wistful sleep your body has craved. And John thinks you look absolutely breathtaking like this. Always so beautiful without trying. He gets closer and closer to release, using your unconscious body to get himself off. Cumming deep inside of your pretty, princess pussy.

a/n: AHHHHH. M' sorry for only being able to answer your request today nonnie, I know you sent this yesterday 😞 also like. I didn't know if you wanted something soft or rough, so I just added both. Also, this was a lot of fun to write! No pressure on keeping yourself anonymous, jus' know that you can always send in your horny thoughts. N e ways, I hope you enjoyed this! Have a wonderful day/night, my loves!

Yours, truly,

–dolly

#cod imagine #cod x reader #call of duty x reader #cod x reader smut #john price x reader #captain john price #john price #captain price fanfic #price x reader #price x reader smut #captain price x reader #captain price smut #x female reader

[jiminrings]

fail-safe

pairing: yoongi x reader

wordcount: 8k

glimpse: growing up, your brother's best friend always berated you for not having a passion in life outside of loving him from afar. when yoongi leaves everything he's ever known for everything he's ever wanted, trying to move on from him becomes your biggest aspiration.

alternatively, yoongi left when you needed him the most, and comes back home at a time when you love him the least.

[ part one, intermission, part two, intermission 02, finale ]

[ a Lot of angst, eventual fluff, brother's best friend AND single dad au, So Much Yearning, unrequited love (initial), jealousy, self-deprecation, a lot of talk abt passion in an empty n hurtful way that most impassioned youngest children feel (it's a specific feeling idk!!!), eventual redemption in the next parts ]

notes: finally got to writing a new series!!! i'm beyond excited for this + this whole new concept and flow i haven't touched on before <3 i hope u love fail-safe as much as i do :-)

as always, lmk what you think <3 send in feedback n love to my askbox anytime!! | series masterlist

Yoongi buys atleast one scratch ticket a week.

The accessibility of buying one is top-notch considering that all he has to do is cross the street, shoot one look to the cashier, and he can either already go hunch in the corner of the road or in the comfort of his room. The moment his coin takes its first dig and he realizes that he’s won yet again, he’s satisfied enough not to buy another ticket.

He doesn’t want to risk losing the win he’s just gained, the odds of him throwing out money besting his chances in adding to his earnings. He thinks everyone’s a little greedy one way or another, but it’s the righteous part of him that thinks he’s different.

You do think that he is for all the right reasons, your vision only tunneling for him alone. He’s this fixed older figure in your life and you can’t figure out how to shrug him off — he’s this generous leech that sucks all of the rationality from your mind but returns it to you twofold, whether in the form of him saying something unintentionally endearing that it makes your chest hurt, or through him having to lightly smack the back of your head.

Yoongi’s your older brother’s best friend and there’s a novelty tag that comes with him, one that can’t be topped by any material possession to your name. He’s there for you, not in the exact way you want him to be, but nonetheless there. He’s special and unattainable at the same time, the finiteness of his love barely extending to you.

He’s there when you want him to burn the latest songs onto a CD you’ve spent all your allowance in, and he’s there when you get annoyed that he sneaked some of his own recommendations in there. You’re there when you later admit that his suggestions aren’t half-bad, and you also happen to be there when he grins at the praise.

He’s there when Namjoon won’t cough up the last slice of his cutlet, not because he’ll actually give you his, but because he’ll help your brother guard his plate. You’d only have to mope for a solid of three seconds before the two of them give up both of their last slices, and you’re there when Yoongi insists for you to try the sauce in the spirit of going out of your routine.

You don’t need Yoongi every single time but in the event that you do, he hangs back. He contemplates and hesitates and doesn’t give in to every single whim that you have, but he’ll be there. He lingers like the last holiday ornament you don’t want to remove until it’s February, his presence being oddly similar to your favorite festivities.

Yoongi’s the equivalent of a holiday you look forward to with each passing month and day; he comes around to and for you in instances, but never even in your most sincere wishes.

“I buy one scratch ticket a week — three if I’m really feeling lucky. When my palms itch, that’s when I know that I really need to buy them.”

He’s calm and collected even when you’re scrunching your nose up at him in combined worry and disbelief, humming mindlessly as you collect your thoughts. He randomly told you about his lottery routine and you’re still trying to wrap your head around how he blows his money off just easily. Yoongi has the mind to put scrap cardboard under you because sitting on the hot concrete with your uniform on can’t possible be a good idea, but you try to play off your fluster into stubbornness.

He’s just playing with his two ever-present coins (lucky charms as he calls them)— one that’s shiny and minted in the present year, the other being the oldest coin he’s ever had that happens to be older than he is — while you mutter about.

“I don’t know, Yoongs. That might be a gambling problem,” you squint, your side comment being heard clearly as day. “Might be the symptoms for hand, foot, and mouth disease too.”

“What— I do not have a gambling problem! My skin’s perfectly fine too, thanks,” he defends, the light shove he gives you doing nothing to tone down your teasing.

“That’s what people with gambling problems say.”

“Give me that-…” he mutters, trying to wrestle you for the sundae he bought you using the money he won from his scratch ticket just awhile ago. You don’t give in easily, even if your laughs that come straight from your chest suggest otherwise. “You don’t get it. It’s just this nice, fun little thing I can look forward to every week. I always buy the cheapest version anyway so when I lose, it’s not a big deal.”

You relent (like you always do when it comes to Yoongi) in understanding, waving him off after regaining your breath. “Nah. I get it. We all have to do things so we wouldn’t lose our shit,” you trail, racking your head to find the right words.“Yours is buying scratch tickets, and mine is-…”

“Yours is what?” Yoongi raises an eyebrow, lips quirked in eagerness to know where you’re going with this. He can’t pinpoint a single thing he can attach to you and neither can you, your actual interests merely reflecting those of the people whom you love.

You love cross-stitching because your mom loves doing it, the tolerance you have for accidentally being pricked by the needle growing over time.

You enjoy playing badminton because Namjoon’s obsessed with the sport, no matter how ratty your rackets and shuttlecocks have become, and no matter how much he pushes you to ring the doorbell to your neighbor’s when he’s sent it flying to their backyard.

You’re probably an imposter yet you don’t feel like it. You don’t feel bad that your life most probably and will only revolve around your mom and Namjoon (maybe even Yoongi); you don’t feel dissatisfied that your life’s mundane. 

You go where your love goes.

“Mine is watching you buy scratch tickets,” you shrug easily as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world, making him laugh heartily. You’ve probably done something right because he hauls you up to your feet immediately.

“Get up. I’m buying you your first ticket,” he nudges you, grabbing you by the arm in excitement.

“But I’m not even legal!” you half-heartedly argue, internally excited that you’re finally getting to try your hand at the lottery because you’ve spent a few hundred minutes of your life tuned to the channel to pass the time, awaiting the results for something you haven’t even betted for.

“Right. Like I haven’t seen you trying to squeeze out a drop of beer from our empty cans whenever Namjoon and I drink.”

“Rude,” you roll your eyes playfully, gathering your things from the ground.

“It’s okay. I’ll give you your first sip of beer too if you want,” Yoongi offers sincerely; easily as if you’ve just asked him about the weather.

He’s here to buy you your first scratch ticket, and he’s still here to offer giving you your first sip of liquor in the future.

Your family friend for a cashier vehemently ignores the fact that you’re still underage to participate in the lottery, and instead only chuckles to herself in amusement. She���s an aunt that knows when to step in and not to, and she knows you won’t be harmed by a mere bet. In fact, she knows you won’t be harmed by anything with Yoongi in tow.

“I already used up all my change,” your frown in realization, holding the ticket in your hands in despair despite having scoured your wallet repeatedly.

“Rub it against the pavement. That’s what I do,” Yoongi lies fluidly, a scoff being caught in his throat when you actually attempt to do it.  “I was only kidding, Y/N. Jeez,” he groans, pulling out his wallet. “Ugh. Here. You can have one of my lucky coins.”

It’s the old one, tarnished beyond relief that you can barely recognize what it’s actual value is supposed to be.

“Ew. I’m giving it back. It looks prehistoric,” you narrow your eyes, knowing that you don’t even have to put your fingers nears your nose to know that it’s already left a faint stench on them.

Yoongi rolls his eyes, a habit he can’t tell he’s formed himself or got from you. “If you use your brain for one second, you’d realize that it’s actually worth more because it’s older. Collectors would go crazy for that in the future.”

“That sounds like a hoarding problem.”

He’s just had about enough of your whining so he attempts to trade in the old coin for his lucky new one, but you stop him at the last minute with a meek smile.

“Kidding. Thank you. I’ll keep it safe, Yoongi. I promise,” you rush out before he changes his mind, scratching your ticket in silence.

He waits for you because you’re scratching so politely and neatly, a stark opposite to his experienced skill of scratching the paint off in ten strokes or less.

Your face is too close to the ticket that Yoongi can’t tell what’s happening, making him part your hair like a curtain to peek.

“Did you win?”

“Nope.”

“Let me throw that out for you.”

“No!” you squeak, keeping the ticket close to your chest. It’s a bummer that your first time is a loss, but it didn’t mean that you wanted to forget the sentiment behind it. “I-I mean no, I’ll keep it. It’s memorable now that I think about it.”

“Alright,” he shrugs carelessly, a smile breaking out in retaliation. “Hoarder.”

“Gambler,” you spit, tucking the ticket into your pencil case. “Next week again?”

Yoongi agrees, wrapping his head around the fact that he doesn’t have to be alone in his little routine every Friday.

“Sure.”

( ♡ )

You don’t mind getting hand-me-downs.

As a matter of fact, you love receiving them. The wear and tear of the things that came before you is only proof that it’s been loved enough to be passed on to you.

You adore your mother’s dainty vintage watch that she wore throughout college, the hardware and sentiment behind it being pretty enough that you don’t mind constantly getting the battery replaced. You like Namjoon’s shirts that he’s outgrown, even through the numerous phases he’s had wherein only denim and tie-dye filled his closet.

You don’t mind the history behind the numerous things you have in your home, unbothered that you’re probably the only house in the block with the oldest possible rice cooker. The chips in the staircase aren’t covered up with marker ink and neither are the loose stitches in the couch quilt snipped off. It’s home to your mother and Namjoon — if it’s good enough for them, then it’s already the best for you.

Even on top of everything, you don’t mind your family almost always getting you shirts and shoes that have an allowance in them. Your mom would go to Seoul and pick out the exact pair of sneakers you wanted that are atleast three sizes bigger than your actual feet, and you’d barely bat an eye. 

You don’t mind the coziness of things that are brought to you, because even if they weren’t offered, you’d seek them yourself. 

So when Yoongi mentioned that he’s decluttering his room and needed someone (read: you) to vacuum it up for him, you jump at the chance. You take a grocery bag with you, wear the nearest pair of slippers within your vicinity, and book it to his house as soon as he finished talking.

“Go crazy, kid. Almost everything in that pile is garbage so you can take anything.”

“I feel like I should be more offended than how I feel right now,” you hum, furrowing your eyebrows at the pile in front of you. It’s a mound of Yoongi, or atleast everything he’s ever wanted up until he decided to do a general cleaning of his bedroom.

Yoongi chuckles, going through his pile of clean laundry for him to fold on the side while you scavenge for his things. “It’s either I have you take them or I get ripped off at the thrift store, then I see somebody’s uncle wearing my shirt as an added insult.”

You huff, rummaging through his heap of belongings while conveniently trying to ignore that you may look like somebody’s uncle the moment you wear his clothes. Everything is him; every distressed cap, every unfinished embroidered shirt, and every item of old significance with his initials branded on it.

The thick gray hoodie you’ve been eyeing (along with its owner) for the better part of the last few years surfaces into your field of vision, your gasp audible enough to make him jolt because he thought you’d gotten hurt.

“No way, this too? But this is your favorite,” you half-complain and half-rejoice, turning the hoodie inside-out eagerly in the fear that there’s a catch to it belonging in the pile.

“Eh. I know it looked good on me but I don’t think it’s my favorite. Besides, I’ve bulked up! Wanna feel?” Yoongi grins, his segue eerily similar to your brother’s at every given chance. A neighbor from down the block recently opened a small-time gym, and the both of them have not been able to shut their mouths about it since. From their gossiping alone, Yoongi and Namjoon have generated enough advertising already.

“You and Namjoon really have to stop asking random people to feel your biceps.”

There’s random knick-knacks throughout the clump in the middle of his bed, some being too good and actually useful that you snag them. Yoongi lets you do what you want anyways (most of the time), not having to turn his head to berate you on what you’re only allowed to grab from his stuff.

You’re not greedy — you already have his hoodie and that should be enough on its own. But there’s that handkerchief with his initials embroidered on it, then that Rubik’s cube he swore his relative got for him from New York, and even the little butterfly knife he got from a souvenir shop when his family when to the beach.

There were those and there is this, looking up at you in all of its glory.

“Yoongi.” 

“What now?” he sighs at your dramatic gasp, looking up from his folded laundry to see what you were going on about. It takes a second for him to fully realize why exactly were you so pumped.

“Are you serious? Your helmet?” you squeal, already hugging the shiny red mass close to you. “Does this mean you’re passing your motorcycle to me?!”

“Are you crazy? Fuck no,” Yoongi rolls his eyes, snatching his helmet back from you. He doesn’t miss the bratty frown that fills up your entire face; he’s not exactly the biggest fan whenever you were upset or angry; maybe even both. “Obviously I forgot I even put my helmet there when I made that pile.”

You whine, stomping your feet in exasperation. You would dramatically plop down on his bed if only it wasn’t full of his shit. “Come on! You told me you were teaching me as soon as you finish teaching Joon.”

“Teaching you how to ride my scooter is not the same as giving you it. Why would I just hand you what I bought with my hard-earned money?” Yoongi scrunches his nose, tone sharper than what he intended.

“But you still haven’t taught me,” you murmur to placate yourself and dissuade yourself from the delusion that Yoongi would even exert such an effort for you because of course — why would he do that for you?

You have an inkling that you’re being irrational for all the wrong reasons, perhaps even projecting your need to be looked after… by him.

Yoongi notices your mood that turned sour quickly, the silence between you becoming loaded. He didn’t mean to be that blunt. “I don’t think you’re even old enough to have your driving permit,” he adds in consolation, voice considerably softer.

You snicker lowly, still looking at your feet with your arms crossed. “But I’m old enough to backpack whenever you need me to carry shit that can’t fit in your carrier.”

He immediately groans at your comeback, his furrowed eyebrows mirroring yours. “You’re so stubborn.”

“You’re a hypocrite,” you retort, knowing for a fact he’s known how to drive even before he was eligible for permits and licenses and whatnot. 

Yoongi takes one, two seconds to himself to regain his composure, clearing his head in the process. You’re still not looking at him and you’re pouting and you don’t even notice the latter, making him crack a small smile.

“I will teach you next week.”

“Oh my-…”

He cuts you off, raising his hand in emphasis. “Provided that you listen to everything I say and wear full gear at all times. You clearly don’t have a job yet-…”

“Ouch.”

“And I don’t have the extra money to buy full gear for myself, so what you’ll do is bundle up with your padded coat and the thickest jeans you have,” Yoongi enunciates every word, eyes keenly on you. They’re too wide and alert, you actually feel like listening to him.

“You go on rides wearing your pajamas.”

“Just say ‘thank you, Yoongi’.” 

“You haven’t done anything yet,” you trail off, head tilting in confusion. 

You’ve had a million conversations like this with Yoongi before but of different fonts; worn, familiar, and warm.

“Thank you, Yoongi,” he mouths, nodding at you to do the same. He won’t stop until you utter them back to him, and you know you won’t go home either without giving him your gratitude as you always do.

“Thank you, Yoongi,” you relent, the grin that breaks through your lips being infectious enough that he laughs lowly to himself.

He exhales all the worries he has and could possibly ever have seeing you ride the motorcycle (or for you yearning to do everything that he does), grasping at whatever sanity he has left from looking after you.

“You can have the helmet.”

( ♡ )

Yoongi knows the ins and outs of your home.

He’s been at your house too much to the point that your mom already gave him a spare key and nobody batted an eye about it. He has his own designated slippers at the entryway too, something you would only use in a hurry if you needed to sign off on a package.

Yoongi, for some reason unfathomable (not really; you can tell exactly why because your mom is an extremely warm and inviting person), also has the power of dibs on the food in your fridge. He’d put strips of masking tape with his name on food that’s neither brought in nor made for him in the first place. 

It should be off-putting — the way that for too many yet too little reason, Yoongi has become a prominent figure in your life even if you didn’t ask him to. You should be peeved that you have to set up four plates more often that you set up only three; you should be annoyed at some point that when you wake up at random times through the night, you’re not totally alone to begin with.

You shouldbe angry at Yoongi to a degree because he’s in your life and you don’t get to have a say on how he stays in it. The only problem is that you’re not, and probably never will.

“Can’t sleep?” you mutter as you look up from your strikingly clear paper, seeing Yoongi strut across the floor with a casualness that only real occupants of the house should supposedly possess. He has his brows furrowed at you as if he didn’t expect to see you in your living room, scratching his head in wonder.

“Why are you up?”

“Stressed,” you sigh, giving up altogether in attempting to make yourself look busy. Yoongi drives by your fridge to get himself a can of beer, finally seating himself beside you on the floor. 

“Stressed about what? I’m sure it’s not about studying,” he snorts, unsurprised at your paper and the clear lack of motivation behind it. You only roll your eyes at him and he has half a mind to not remind you to not do it so much, the frown in your face reminding him that you really were frustrated.

It is you to throw the occasional tantrum, but he remembers that it was only when you were young; when Namjoon would whisper gibberish to his ear and purposely not whisper to yours just so he could tease you, or when nobody would believe that you taught yourself how to ride a bike with no training wheels. You didn’t know how to do the latter at all, but what had made you throw a tantrum was that nobody believed you.

You notice Yoongi’s digs, of course. You notice each one of his more than unsubtle nods to your intelligence and whatnot, the shots at your intellect not flying over your head like he expected them to.  You admit that you’ve never been that scholastic; you weren’t born a genius and you don’t try exactly hard either.

Yoongi’s only joking but you can’t help but to think that he’s pertaining to something deeper, his constant digs at your lack of a passion making you sluggish.

“We have to write this essay,” you answer simply, your tone straightforward and unwilling for banter but Yoongi bites anyway.

“But essays are the easiest,” he trails, looking at you the whole time as he takes a sip of his beer.

You exhale heavily because no matter what, he just can’t seem to get it. Yoongi knows where you’re coming from but he doesn’t know where you’re headed. As a matter of fact, you don’t know where you’re headed either. “We have to write an essay about where we see ourselves ten years from now.”

“But that’s still easy.”

“If it’s so easy, then go write it for me,” you snicker, leaning back with a huff. He constantly undermines you and although you own up to your striking mundaneness from time to time, it didn’t mean that you liked being looked down on. Yoongi’s too used to you being yourself, he gets taken aback when you grow sick of your own.

He gathers all his willpower, far from being sleepy unlike you who would’ve been lulled to sleep if only you weren’t dead-set on arguing with him. “You know what? I actually will,” he claps, handing you his beer. “Go hold this for me.”

Yoongi grips your pen for dear life like you hold his beer, his hand warm as he works from sheer determination alone (he’s not competing with anyone except for whatever expectation you have for him and your paper), while yours was cold just holding his drink.

You’ve been so quiet that he actually gets curious, turning his head to check to see if you’ve dozed off when actually, it’s just you eyeing the can.

“No one’s watching,” Yoongi breaks you out of your thoughts, carelessly shrugging. He cares and he’s far too concerned for you, but he figures that nothing would hurt you so long as he can grasp you. “It’s okay. You can have your first sip.”

You blink owlishly at him and when he jokes about taking it back, you take your first swig of beer in a panic. Yoongi only shakes his head in amusement, pausing his writing just to see the look on your face.

“One more?” he asks right after he sees you wince, the unbearable sweetness yet bitter, stinging aftertaste of the beer making you shudder. 

You have the urge to wash off the taste with ice cold water (you’ll even drink from the tap because you’re so desperate), but you resist it just so you wouldn’t look like a weakling in front of him. You wave him off with a bitterness, upset that beer doesn’t taste like what you’ve always imagined it to be. “Just write my essay for me,” you mull over the taste in your tongue, in deep thought while you stare at Yoongi’s back ahead of you. “Do all beers taste that way?”

“Eh. Most of them do. You develop a taste for it later on,” he answers, taking the can back from you before drinking it himself. He looks too dedicated in writing your essay, only goading the curiosity in you to peek over his shoulder.

He knows you, both in heart and memory, because he shields your own paper from you when he sees your shadow hovering above him.

“Yoongi?”

“Hm.”

“I told you why I’m up. Why are you up?”

He’s silent entirely, the only indication that he heard your question being his hand pausing abruptly. Yoongi doesn’t answer, and you don’t ask again. “Don’t worry about it.”

You take his answer to heart, dozing off on the couch before you know it. You don’t remember a blanket being placed on you, nor can you remember preparing your backpack for school the next day.

Your paper’s neatly tucked into your portfolio bearing handwriting that’s clearly not yours, but with a sentiment that’s similar nonetheless. You read through everything quickly before even stepping towards your teacher, the tips of your fingers just as cold as Yoongi’s beer last night.

You’ve committed the paper into your memory, even until the last part with an excerpt you can’t forget despite having passed the paper already. You don’t know what to feel because it’s Yoongi who’s speaking for you, detailing that ten years from now, you will still be your mother’s daughter and your brother’s sister.

He wrote your essay either for you or in behalf of you, and you can’t tell which one is better.

Yoongi, who knows the ins and outs of your home and the peaks and troughs of your heart, writes in clear handwriting — Ten years from now, I will still be Yoongi’s rock.

( ♡ )

Surprisingly, Yoongi hasn’t been around that much lately.

Even Namjoon (who you consider as his Siamese twin) is clueless to why his friend hasn’t been hanging out with him lately to do either everything or nothing, confused because they’re enrolled to the same classes all the way to the same part-time jobs, yet Yoongi’s been mostly unavailable.

When Yoongi is, however, he doesn’t speak at all about his previous absences. He comes as if he’s never disappeared a few times before that, his evasion to talk about his presence being apparent even if you’ve asked him directly.

You’re getting used to his new routine of hanging out with you only when the both of you are free, no longer moving mountains for both of your schedules to line up. He’s more present this month than he was at the last, the criteria for it being how many times you bump into him in your own home.

Despite all odds and evens though, Yoongi can’t get used to your silence. He knows you hold grudges longer than your brother, and the last time that he checked, he knows you’ve already let go of your annoyance for him suddenly being unavailable without any explanation. 

It’s late, only the two of you are awake in the living room, there’s ten scratch tickets on the table for you to share, and he’s even gotten you your own glass to which he’ll put a controlled amount (a grand total of two long sips) of his own beer in. You’re not stressing about an essay this time, but the unconscious pout on your face is still the same.

“You’re awfully quiet.”

The frown on your face only goes deeper at being found out, the scratch of your lucky coin being the only clear thing that Yoongi hears. 

“My best friends want to have this slumber party,” you sigh, more upset about what you’ve just uttered than you are happy about the cash prize you’ve just won.

Yoongi takes what you say at face-value, groaning at his third straight loss for the night. “That’s great. Wear cute pajamas, snap a couple of polaroids, don’t be the first to fall asleep and last to wake up, and just keep a pocket knife with you when you’re going out by yourself.” 

The awe (and slight concern) over what he said should roll in any time now.

You should be comforted at Yoongi’s words because they’re supposed to ease the swirl of your stomach, even if what he just said is a repackaged version of what your family said before. You should let go of your worries because Yoongi, of all people, says that it’s supposed to be great.

Instead, you feel neither of what you think Yoongi wants you to.

“Was it something I said?” he mumbles after some time, turning his nose up at you as he tries to retrace his words. “I have an extra pocket knife you can borrow if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“We’re gonna be talking about boys, Yoongi,” you screw your eyes shut, sighing into the palms of your hands with a heaviness. “We’re gonna talk about crushes and experiences and all that.”

He shudders at that, his reaction mirroring Namjoon’s when you tried opening up to him. You get your brother’s reaction to a degree, of course, because you feel as if you’d be disgusted too if the roles were reversed. You want to talk about it with your mom too, but at the end of the day, she’s your parent and you just can’t talk about anything and everything with her. 

Yoongi’s your next plausible option.

“Do you want some ice cream right now? You know what, I’ll buy you-…” Yoongi tries to evade the topic altogether, his attempt of escaping feeble as you drag him down by his hoodie.

“I haven’t had my first kiss yet.”

“Heh.”

Yoongi shrugs at that, regaining his words when you deadpan at him. “So? What about it?”

You starfish on the floor at that out of frustration, the whine you’ve been bottling up coming out in the open because as usual, Yoongi doesn’t get it. “I-I’m probably the only one in my grade who hasn’t kissed someone yet! I can’t just lie carelessly because obviously, they’ll ask around.”

“So?” Yoongi chuckles, his breeze towards your state shocking you. “What’s it to them if you haven’t had your first kiss?”

“You don’t get it,” you grit through your teeth, crossing your arms so hard that it feels hard to inhale.

“I’m pretty sure I do,” he sing-songs, drinking the last of his beer. When you’re not looking though, he plans to either drink or chuck the remainder of your share because he doesn’t want you to develop a taste for it.

The anger you have for Yoongi bubbles up once again, the itch in your throat unbearable. You’re presented with the age gap between you once more, along with the raging emptiness in you that Yoongi’s reached so far and you’ve reached so little.

“You don’t get it because you’ve had all of these experiences when you were younger than my age right now,” you snap, although you don’t look at him when you do. If you do look at him though, you’ll only be reminded of how a face like his could have everything in this world — even a first kiss you’ve never had.

“Yeah, and so?” he knits his brows, growing defensive. You weren’t lying at all, but he still feels a little offended at the dig. He’s not not proud of it, but with the way you say it, it’s like you want him to burn in shame,

“Stop saying so,” you angrily mumble in frustration, a little breathless because you still don’t ease up on crossing your arms.

Yoongi straightens his posture, staring you down with his jaw set. He’s stern as he is, nostrils flaring in irritation. “No, Y/N. I’m genuinely asking — so what? What’s it to you if I had my first kiss at a younger age? What about it if everyone else in your grade has kissed someone and you haven’t? It’s not the end of the world.”

“I-I don’t know! It’s just unfair!” you let up, yielding to both the facts that Yoongi’s right with it not being the end of the world, and that you’re still entitled to feeling upset.

“Instead of spending time obsessing over your first kiss, maybe I don’t know,  try being productive? You’re heading to college soon and you haven’t even thought of a career,” Yoongi goes off on you, making you roll your eyes automatically. There he goes again with the great big push of trying to push you into your supposed passions in life. “Someone else’s luck doesn’t mean it’s already your misfortune.”

“But it is.”

You say it so definitively, you almost convince him. You have your principles and so does Yoongi, but not everyone else. You have your principles yet you don’t have the luck. You’re not getting anywhere in life just like Yoongi or anyone else who was remotely born into wealth, no matter how quiet or obvious.

You can’t pursue something that interests you in the slightest without thinking what would come out of it. You can’t think of a degree and a course you’ll stick with, enough to do for the rest of your life because the only other option is to fail completely if you don’t. You have no plan and no passion and you don’t know if you’ll ever amount to anything to anyone at all.

By all means, you don’t agree with Yoongi this time. Someone else’s luck is your misfortune, in the same way that his first kiss doesn’t mean that it’s yours.

The sidetrack to your argument is a closed case already, judging by your downcast gaze. “I just have to put myself out there, that’s all. My first kiss doesn’t even have to mean anything. I just want to have it,” you admit, shoulders relaxing.

“Don’t,” Yoongi groans, the opposite of you as his whole body tenses.

He thinks that you don’t get him at all.

“What do you meandon’t?”

Your argument’s long-over (atleast you thought it was) but Yoongi’s getting more agitated by the minute, the disbelief on his face throwing you off. “Don’t do things just because you feel like you have to! Are you even hearing yourself right now?”

“I don’t want to be left behind, Yoongi! That’s all I’m trying to get at,” you raise your hands in surrender, shrugging thoughtlessly — it makes him want yell into a paper bag in exasperation. “I don’t want to be picked last. I don’t want to not be wanted.”

Yoongi exhales, screwing his eyes shut. It stays silent like that for a little while; him calming himself down, and you scratching your tickets. The calm doesn’t stay for long because you open your mouth carelessly, again.

“Can you be my first kiss?”

“Are you insane?”

“Ugh.”

You go back to your fourth scratch ticket, pouting in disappointment. You’re unfazed about the win that’s probably the largest sum you’ve had ever since you started doing the lottery.

You’re upset and you’re sick in the stomach but you stay silent like you never asked Yoongi to be your first kiss; it’s like you haven’t indirectly admitted to him that you love him enough, more than so, to want him to be your first.

You’re about to scratch the final ticket when Yoongi juts his hand out, fingers barely brushing yours to stop you.

“On second thought, don’t scratch that. Just keep it.”

“Because you want to turn me into a hoarder too?” you snicker, heeding his suggestion regardless.

“Because I’m not going to be right about everything,” Yoongi mumbles, looking at you with a solemnness you can’t decipher.

You try until the solemnness turns into pity.

“Still don’t want to be my first kiss?”

Yoongi softly laughs to your face, smiling as he lets you down — whether easily or harshly, you can’t tell.

“You already know what I’m going to say.”

( ♡ )

You’d like to think that you’re not kept in the dark about most things.

You already know that although your mom hasn’t had any relationships since your dad left, she still has plenty of suitors. Some of them are the reason why you have random food deliveries in the middle of the dinner that she’s already cooked, some have sucked up to her by getting you and Namjoon gifts. 

You know about Namjoon’s growing love for football, even with the lessons he takes in secret because he didn’t want to trouble your mom for the money. It’s why he does his part-time job and why you’re looking for one anyways. You don’t want nor need much, so you almost always give him the remainder of your allowance by the end of each week.

Yoongi, on the other hand, you don’t know much about. You know that he’s an only child with a doting mom who works overseas and a rich but emotionally unavailable dad at home, and that’s about it. His home life is synonymous with yours, considering that your four walls have become an extension of his.

Maybe you’ve become too lenient on him — either that, or he’s become too disrespectful. It’s at times like these where your house is not his home, sickeningly so that you don’t want it to be yours either.

Yoongi is a sight to behold as he makes out with a half-naked girl on your bed, in your room. Your room has never been the neatest but with everything going on, it feels that it’s become the dirtiest that it’s ever been. Your house slippers are on the floor even if you always leave them by the entryway, and your sheets are a mess despite being one of the only things you try to keep folded in the room.

You’re angry, too much to the point that the words get caught in your throat. They catch onto bile and venom and everything at once, the strain in your voice heard when you yell.

“What the fuck?!”

Yoongi and the girl, whom you figure out to be Hyewon that he’s shared his first kiss with, jolt in unison. Hyewon’s scared shitless while Yoongi’s annoyed to death, the grunt he lets out pricking your ears further. “Sorry, sorry. She’s my best friend’s sister. She’s so annoying,” he drags you out of your room before he even gives you the entitlement to storm out of there in a fit of rage, seeing red the longer that he seems upset at you.

“What the fuck was that, Yoongi?” you grit through your teeth, the moment of you seeing red turn into white because you’re so frustrated that you could actually cry. Your chest’s heavy, not only out of rage, but out of everything that’s built up in the course of years.

“Can you keep it down?” Yoongi seethes, pursing his lips. “What, would you rather see us do it in the living room?”

“In the — what? Who do you think you are? This isn’t even your house, why are you bringing these girls here?” you point an accusing finger at him yet he doesn’t back away, his annoyance for you only growing tenfold.

He’s in the wrong no matter which way you look at it yet he doesn’t realize it, the epiphany that Yoongi genuinely thinks he’s in the right for doing this to you making your skin burn in fire.

“This is literally the first time I’ve ever done this! I can’t bring her back to my place, my dad has guests over!”

“So your smartest idea is to fuck someone in my bed?”

“Oh, you’re welcome. It’s the most action your four walls have ever seen,” he spits sarcastically, eyes narrowing at you. It takes little effort for him to dig up what you came to him for in worry and it terrifies you. The facet of Yoongi who had sternly told you that it was okay to be left behind if it means getting what you deserve, resembling nothing like him at the moment.

“I can’t believe you!” you whisper as you tremble, the tears pricking at the corner of your eyes. “I told you that in confidence.”

“In confidence? It doesn’t take a genius to figure out that you’re not exactly a catch, Y/N.”

You clench your jaw so hard that it hurts, you ball your fists so tightly that it stings.

You leave your home without saying another word.

.

.

.

Namjoon’s panicked.

He came home a little later than usual because he had maximized the life out of his soccer lessons, only getting the signal to leave when the lights were turned off. He was only slightly worried at the first place because he was supposed to cook dinner for the both of you, but he placated himself by realizing that you’re not the baby that he still thinks you are — you could cook dinner for yourself if you were hungry already.

He thinks nothing of it. In fact, he just makes a quick stop at the convenience store so the both of you could indulge in a liter of ice cream without your mom urging to leave some for another night. You could think of a recipe from scratch (and it almost always works out at the end), so Namjoon walked in fully thinking he’ll get to sniff whatever concoction you have.

Except, he walks into a completely dark house, and that’s when he panics.

He can’t find your slippers by the entryway and you’re not in your room either. You’re not at the other convenience store hunched over taking your chances on scratch tickets, and you’re not out on the street either going people-watching.

The panic rises in him the more that Namjoon grasps this is the first time that this has ever happened and he doesn’t know why. He’s always made an effort to be absorbed into both your personal and academic affairs, and as far as he knows, you’re neither in a sleepover nor on a field trip somewhere.

Namjoon thinks it’s his fault someway somehow, and the guilt can’t fully dissipate from him until he sees you.

“Hey, Yoongi,” he breathlessly gasps the moment his friend answers, the latter being surprised because he thought it was you who was calling him after what happened awhile ago.

It’s his fault and he’s realized that hours too late, and the selfish part of him thinks that it’s you calling at ten in the evening begging for forgiveness.

“What’s up, man? It’s late,” he wonders out loud, thinking for a second if they were too much of the Siamese twins that you tease them to be because he can’t think of a rational reason why Namjoon would call him at this time of night.

Namjoon raggedly exhales, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah, sorry about that. I’m just wondering if you’ve seen Y/N by any chance?”

Yoongi’s heart drops so loudly that Namjoon thought for second that his friend had hung up on him, his urgency being shared the moment that he asked.

“What? Y/N isn’t home?” Yoongi asks in disbelief, immediately being filled with anxiety and disbelief. Just awhile ago, the two of you were arguing outside of your room. He did hear you leave, but he had fully expected for you to be back hours ago. He’s wracked with guilt all over, the drop in his chest amplified by the pit in his stomach.

“She’s not. Practice ran late and I-I know she’s responsible so I didn’t hurry home,” Namjoon recalls, being more and more frazzled by the second. “She left her phone here, and mom isn’t here either because she’s visiting my grandparents, a-and I don’t want to call her because I know she’ll be worried, a-and-…”

Yoongi interrupts him, the tremble in his fingers only enabling him to dig his nails into his palm deeper. “I’m coming over. Let’s look for her together.”

It barely takes a minute for the both of them to come together, not even exchanging any pleasantries with each other before Yoongi steps on the gas. 

Namjoon’s filled with guilt, the type that only a sibling could carry as a burden. He thinks he was too selfish — too accustomed to pulling your own weight that it must have given you the impression that you had no other choice but to. Whatever it was that made you leave out of the blue, Namjoon thinks he could’ve done more. He should’ve came home and made you dinner as promised, for starters. He’s guilty over the fact that he’s the only close familial male figure in your life and he let this happen, as he makes Yoongi put his headlights on high-beam, scanning for anyone that looks remotely like you.

Yoongi, on the other hand, is filled with a guilt he can’t even begin to explain. It corrodes him from the inside-out in realization that he’s to blame for your sudden disappearance, the fact that Namjoon comes to him first to help find you not helping at all. If only your brother knew what he had done to you, he’s positive that he’ll be on the receiving end of a punch — what gets him more is that Yoongi wouldn’t blame him at all.

They see you in the bus stop two cities away, dressed in the same clothes you ran out with. 

Namjoon’s relieved beyond compare while Yoongi’s fuming, his hands tucked inside his jacket to prevent himself from squeezing you into an embrace; neither of you deserve it. 

There’s an underlying anger within Namjoon, one that lies behind the back of his throat as he checks you over for any injuries. The two of you walk ahead to Yoongi’s car while he himself trails behind, his heart significantly calmer than it was the past hour, yet nowhere near normal.

“Wanna tell me what you did?” your brother hums, trying to exhale the worry that’s embedded into him with each squeeze he gives around your shoulders.

“Went to the convenience store, bumped into my friends, then we took this impromptu roadtrip to go to the night market, then we all had our first actual shot of liquor and not just beer, my friend who owns the car turned out to be a lightweight, and now everyone just has to commute home,” you narrate in recollection, squeezing Namjoon back to try and ground him.

“Okay,” he answers simply, nodding. “Wanna tell me what happened before you did all those things?”

The breathless chuckle that leaves you is empty, void of any amusement at all. You smile nonetheless, unable to placate both yourself and Namjoon. “Nope.”

You arrive in silence to Yoongi’s car, the words unsaid between the three of you generating more tension than your brief disappearance itself.

Yoongi opens the front door for you, but you settle for sitting in the backseat.

#HOW R WE FEELING TARGET AUDIENCE!!! :O #yoongi imagine #yoongi oneshot #yoongi oneshots #yoongi series #yoongi angst #yoongi angst imagine #yoongi fluff #yoongi x reader #yoongi x y/n #yoongi au #min yoongi imagine #min yoongi scenario #yoongi fanfic #yoongi x you #bts yoongi imagine #bts yoongi x reader

[lovelyunholyc]

you'd let it slip that one time, when he called you at the time of day he usually does to check in, you'd let it go to voicemail just to be able to save it and conjure up his voice whenever you pleased while he was away.

"i don't have any voicemails of you," nanami had said with a troubled look on his face, and you'd found it so charming that you had to lean in and kiss him.

you'd shrugged, giving him a small, grateful smile. "you always answer when i call, kento."

you know him well enough to understand his logic; he'd never miss any of your calls, even when he's working (you were the only person allowed to contact him past his phone's 'Do Not Disturb' feature) - he couldn't ever risk missing it when you needed him, and you wouldn't think to disturb him for trivial things either.

of course your answer doesn't satisfy him, and you can almost see the cogs turning in his brain. you can't help but laugh a little, kissing his frown away and changing the subject to save him from the stress.

the next day, at that time he usually calls during his break, he receives an ominous text from you.

don't call. and don't answer, i'm leaving you a present.

he worries immediately, but another text pops up once you see he's read it.

don't worry! you'll ruin the surprise! i love you ❤️

nanami tries his best, but he can't help it. instances of something going terribly wrong concerning you and him not being able to reach you in time flood his brain and nearly make him lightheaded. he does as you ask and doesn't answer when your contact pops up on the screen, his self-control waning quickly the longer he sees your photo.

he doesn't know how long he stares at the screen, even when his phone stops ringing.

and then, just a minute later, a notification for a new voicemail pops up, and the tornado of worries in his brain grinds to a halt when everything suddenly clicks, and he's reminded of the short, perplexing conversation you'd had the day prior.

and he feels a little silly.

you pick up on the first ring, as if you were expecting his call.

"my love," you greet, and even though the audio on his phone doesn't do your sweet voice justice, it soothes his heart all the same. "you're not gonna listen to it?" he can tell you're smiling, playful and lovely.

"i'll save it for my way home from work."

"hmm, how do you know it wasn't something naughty, then? what if you start blushing on the train, and everyone notices?"

"darling-" he starts, but uncharacteristically doesn't have a follow-up. he knows no one on his commute cares enough about anything else at that time other than coming home as soon as possible, much like himself, but he lets you have that, if it'll make you giggle like you are now. your laugh is deeply precious to him.

"i can just imagine it - but i wouldn't wanna ever miss seeing you blush." oh, he knows, and has suffered your inappropriate whispers in public just to get a reaction out of him nearly enough to get used to it. nearly. "are you blushing now?"

"no," nanami lies easily, heat crawling up his neck in that oddly pleasant way only you can seem to bring out of him.

you laugh just as easily, see through him just like that, as if he's right in front of you.

"i'm glad you didn't listen to me and still called," you say softly, traces of your sweet laughter still lingering in your tone. "i wanted to hear your voice, too."

nanami hums, doesn't tell you that that makes him smile way too wide for him having lunch alone. he tries to tone it down in case gojo somehow happens to stumble upon his carefully chosen, secluded spot.

"i miss you," you sigh, as if you hadn't seen him this morning and kissed him until he was almost late, like you usually do.

"i miss you, too, darling," he replies just as sincerely, as if he wasn't seeing you in just a few short hours and wasn't planning on holding you until you begged him to let you go so you could get dinner together, like he usually does.

"enjoy your break, handsome." the corner of his lip always twitches up when you call him that. "come home safe."

"of course. i love you."

"love you more!"

nanami knows that if he argues that, like he really wants to every time, you'd be too stubborn to let him win. so he just chuckles and lets you hang up.

despite what you'd teased him about, he does listen to your message on the train. and he does start smiling like a madman, his entire face glowing, lighting up with it, but he can't find it in himself to be embarrassed about it when he's hearing your voice and he's only a few short minutes away from having you in his arms again.

"hi, handsome. i had to think carefully about how to get you to not answer your phone, but it didn't end up being that creative, huh?" you breathe a soft laugh, the gentle cadence of it carrying into your sweet voice. "anyway, here's your obligatory voicemail from me. i'm just kidding - i thought about it, and you looked so sad about it that i just had to make one. you know i'd do anything to make you happy, right? it's only fair, with how happy you make me, too... i hope this will suffice, i didn't really have anything special to say except that i think about you so much it's becoming quite concerning, and i love you so much i feel like i'm going crazy, slowly but surely. look what you do to me!... um, oh- i'm gonna run out of time soon! i can't wait to leave you a million more of these, it's almost as fun as listening to yours... actually, i'll tell you a little secret: i listen to yours every day when i'm missing you most, which is usually right after you leave for work. sometimes i wish you'd come right back even though it's a little ridiculous. um, anyway, i'll think of a more creative way to trick you next time. come back safely, i miss you terribly... i love you more than you know, kento."

#nanami kento #jjk nanami #nanami fluff #nanami x reader #nanami kento x reader #nanami kento x reader fluff #nanami x reader fluff #nanami kento fluff #jjk nanami fluff #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader fluff #jjk fluff #jjk x reader fluff #jjk x reader #jjk nanami x reader #idk i think voicemails and voice memos r neat 👉👈 #nanami be my baby #ten.writes #1k #2k

[oddlysatisfyingbot]

Carving a building out of dry block of plaster via r/oddlysatisfying

#IFTTT #reddit #oddly satisfying #Best-Law-3052

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

so u know that one scene in kny where daki's head is resting on muzan lap, so that but with malleus, vil and leona. thx! (I hope I'm doing this right 💀)

Daki to Muzan | Yandere Twisted Wonderland

You are most definitely drugged out of your mind by some effect of a potion you were either tricked into drinking or haphazardly having it thrown into your eyes. And leave it to these three to throw themselves in your direction so that your swooning over them for the next twenty hours. Now anyone unfortunate to interrupt this time best say their goodbyes before those hours are up, no body’s ruining their taste of heaven:

Leona Kingscholar

“Wish you were like this everyday…”

He muses to himself as he let’s his hands trace over your head

To have you attaching yourself to his person at any opportunity was something he’d have to get used to

But he feels like its degrading to keep you drugged up for this behavior

“No worries I’ll get you acting just the same by the time I’m done.”

Malleus Draconia

“So forward (Y/n)...my love don’t ever change.”

He wrestles with the decision to keep you under this effect

But he pushes the thought away for now

Just to use this time with you how ever he pleases

And as long as he can command you he’s not only having you just rest your head on his lap

He’s carrying you places 

He’s talking about gargoyles

And if your forward enough he can cuddle with you

Maybeevenkiss

“I wouldn’t exchange anything for our love!”

Vil Schoenheit

“And this is what I’ll put on your face to get rid of the acne. Now don’t forget that will be after our evening makeout.”

He’s oddly gleeful about the circumstances

Almost like he was the reason why you were drugged in the firstplace

But he has oh so graciously let you trail beside him

He deals with this all the time

So don’t mind him when he moves to hold you close 

He’s just keeping you satisfied

So don’t mind how your lovingly doing errands 

All of the items are herbs to replicate another love potion…

“Don’t worry about us, we’ll ride out the effects of the potion together…I will most definitely not try my best to cure them.”

#yandere vil schoenheit #yandere leona kingscholar #yandere leona kingscholar x reader #yandere leona x reader #yandere leona #yandere vil twst #yandere vil schoenheit x reader #yandere x reader #yandere x you #lovelyyandereaddictionpoint #yanderexrea #yandere #yanderes #yandere twisted wonderland #yandere malleus #yandere malleus draconia #yandere malleus x reader

[ladyelissarose]

‘Trick Show’

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x female soldier reader

Little description of reader- She was part of the team ‘Ghosts’. She goes by ‘Red’.

Red has been recruited into the 141 Task Force after they needed her special tactics to catch a certain asset.

Summary; Ghost knew about the Team ‘Ghosts’ but what he didn’t know was that there was a woman in it. He thought only men like him could be Ghosts, so to test your loyalty and worth of being known as one of them- he put you through a test.

Warnings: smut 18! NSFW! Kidnapping, strapping down, oral (m receiving) rough Simon, some degrading and praise. Freakin’ 4k!!

“Boys, Laswell has brought in a temporary recruit. A Lieutenant they are, they go by Red, and are part of the lethal group we know as ‘Ghosts’.”

The ears of the 141 Task Force perked up at Captain Price’s news of them being in the presence of their idols. They admired these people- no, killing machines that wore a heart just like them, but were the coldest, deadliest beings on earth, it was a surprise that they hadn’t become the Grim Reaper if not Death themselves after so much blood shed with no consequences for it.

The one that was the most ecstatic about meeting such Gods to him, was none other than the one named ‘Ghost’.

Simon Riley would probably be qualified to be part of the Ghosts’ Team, but he was satisfied with being the best in his team, no one better than him.

Physically he didn’t show he was excited or anxious to finally see them, he wasn’t one to expose his emotions, and what helped was that mask he wore 24/7 to conceal what he felt.

So with his bulky arms crossed and his brown orbs holding a deadly glare, he questioned,

“Which Ghost is it? One of the Walker’s?”

His thick British accent hid the amusement he held, he sounded rather unimpressed or unbothered instead. Price looked up from his file as he pointed to the door with a steady tone,

“One’s here, Logan Walker- but to leave behind the one that’s actually staying. What Elias noted about Red is exactly what we need, someone stealthy, sultry and deadly…”

Ghost ignored what was spoken about Red, as he eye twitched at the mention of a Walker in the same atmosphere as him, oddly enough he was a secret admirer of the Walker brothers, and couldn’t wait to be around one of them. Maybe not talk- Simon knew deep down he wasn’t much of a talker anyways, but it’d mean the world to him to be able to see a Ghost in the flesh.

“So when will they arrive?”

Soap’s Scottish accent broke through the thin silence, but also the sound of the door creaking open, and two soldiers rustling in.

“-cut it out Logan- oh! Lieutenant Red, Captain Price. Apologies.”

Red had almost tumbled in at Logan playfully shoving her, but Price kept a steady hand in front of her as if to catch her, as he replied with a calm smile, eyeing Logan.

“No apologies Red, I saw him.”

Red then poked Logan’s chest with a tease,

“See? Now everyone’s knows your a bully-“

“That I’m ‘your’ bully- Logan Waker, Captain Price.”

He then with a proud smile shook Price’s hand in front of Red, further teasing as he was practically on top of her. Now with an elbow on her shoulder he informed Price,

“She’s yours now, do as you please. I’ll take my pack of- oof!”

Red scoffed as her elbow met his side,

“You’re not selling or trading me Logan- I’m sorry Price he’s food and sleep deprived at the moment.”

Price nodded it off as he then pulled Red away from Logan,

“It’s alright Red, c’mere kid.. let’s introduce you to my team, the 141.”

Simon never clearly heard what Price said of you, for he was angry- if not furious, livid. He had never heard of you, a woman, being a lethal Ghost, in the position of a man. It made him feel diminutive, and he hated that.

What about you was so good or special, that you had made it in, and wore the title- the damned mask? He didn’t know.. but he as hell was sure he was going to. Simon would find it out himself before anything happened, before you took place in your mission.

——————

“Wakey wakey… Red.”

Your eyes shot opened at your code name being muttered out, and you immediately jerked forward, only to be pulled back by the chains that were bound around you, giving you no space to move.

Only in your t-shirt and small shorts. Arms, wrists, legs- even ankles… were chained on you to the metal chair you sat on. You were quite incredulous as you gasped out,

“Where am I?!”

A deep growl escaped your throat as you tried to pull on the chains, but no avail was on your side unfortunately, you were tied up as if you were a monster. In confusion you took a split second to think-

‘How’d I get here?’

As everything around you didn’t look familiar- and you couldn’t recall getting kidnapped or taken away at all. Although it wouldn’t be your first time kidnapped, but c’mon.. this time you didn’t remember shit.

Last thing you ever remember doing, was drinking a warm tea offered to you by one of the team members before going to sleep.

A low tsk’ was heard, echoing off the corners of the metals walls, and soon footsteps followed, sounding slow and coming one after another like rain, although it sounded like the thunder but from a far distance. Soon a large shadow came into sight, tall in stature and muscular built, you had yet to see his face, but his presence alone made you gulp.

Nonetheless to hold a strong appearance or impression, you demanded,

“Who are you!?”

A gruff voice followed, one you thought you’ve never heard of, making your skin crawl and heart jump,

“Reaper... call me-“

Then his face came into your full view,

“Reaper... Red.”

Your jaw dropped in question.

‘Who the hell is this?’

His face was unlike one you’ve ever seen, beautifully terrifying. His eyes held a snakes gaze but were doe-like, the small light illuminating above him shadowed what appears to be brown eyes.

His nose was probably sculpted very nicely before it got broken, for now it holds a little twist, either way it fit him oddly well.

His lips, chapped and busted in the middle- looked endearing and kissable. The top lip was a bit small, but the bottom one? Carried out how plumpy his lips looked.

Although over all... it was scarred. An old one laid from the top of his eyebrow to the cheek, and the other went from under the nose to his bottom lip. Little ones were also here and there, like minor scratches- but it was sure that they came from big nightmares.

You’ve never heard or seen this man before, as far as you knew about (for you’ve seen countless of people in your lifetime as a Ghost- you pretty much see everything)

But this one, ‘Reaper’... you’ve never seen such before. Heaven and Hell at once. Light and Darkness. The mystery behind who he could be, triggered you to take all of him, so you could learn every bit of his story and take it.

Before you could ask any other question or further analyze Reaper, his voice came out like a command,

“Give me the intel and names of the Ghost Team, if not I won’t make your death easy.”

‘What?!’

That’s what this evil Reaper wanted? The names and info of the greatest team out there- to what? Kill them. That’s all everyone wanted to do to you guys, because you were good, and scary.

The chances of getting out of this situation alive was probably doubtful, as you were not with your team at the moment, and who knows if the 141 knows your missing! You have a mission to carry out soon for them- yet here you are... in chains at the mercy of this beast of a man.

But you were smart right? The best of the best in your team... you could get your way anyways. You looked up to him as if this was a joke, or showing he didn’t scare you, so you proposed,

“Can I cut you a deal?”

Reaper scoffed lightly as he crossed his arms, thinking for a moment,

‘A deal? You’ve got to be out of your mind..’

He grunted,

“What deal?”

You looked down and around for a bit, before blurting out,

“You’re killing me right?”

Appearing terrifying Reaper specified,

“You’ll be dismembered by the time I’m through with you… God wouldn’t recognize you.”

Biting your lip nervously at how you vividly imagined it, you sighed with distress as you spoke,

“If you’re killing me anyways.. might as well make it count for me- I’ve done too much to be left without a last wish completed. It’d bruise my ego.”

A huff left Reaper’s lips, it dripped out like disbelief as he heard your pride while at the supposed brink of death,

“Oh yeah? Then what’s the wish? Both of us must gain from it before I tear you apart-“

“Fuck me, I give you answers, then you kill me.”

Shock was written all over Reaper’s expression, he never would’ve seen that coming, although your wish was very engrossing to him anyways. Though to keep himself in check to make sure you weren’t being crazy or what not, he straightened his broad shoulders and pried,

“You fucking with me?”

You smirked a bit and almost groaned out,

“It’s that or nothing- you’d kill me for your pride and that’s it… no answers or clues if you-“

Then with gritted teeth to show your desperation or seriousness, along with nodded eyes on him, you added,

“Don’t. Fuck. Me.”

He internally scolded himself when his cock twitched at your words. Blood heading straight towards his cock as you then tilted your head back, licking your lips as you went on,

“Come on… grant me my wish. I’d love to fuck that cock of yours. Taste it, ride it, be railed like an animal with it…”

Slowly you began to move your hips on the chair, being a damned menace as your eyes rolled back. Your breath hitched a bit when you happened to hit a certain spot, and you moaned out,

“Pleasssse… I’ll give it to you Reaper. Fuck me to the point I’m dying, and on my last breaths I’ll give it to you.”

Sex rolled off your tongue, and it dripped like honey and sounded sweet, although the words in between were bitter and sinful. The throbbing in Reaper’s tactical pants were beginning to take over his mind piece by piece, his cock jumping every time you spoke, his breath catching in his throat when you made the smallest yet most wicked sounds.

What was the craziest part about this, was that he was supposed to unfold the truth about his trick before it got serious, or before you released the truth. But with those promises dripping out of your moaning lips, he had to take what he could get out of it as it was part of the deal till the end, so… he was definitely going to go on with it.

But he wanted to tease you a bit more first…

The turmoil he caused you as he made you think he was killing you in the end, excited him on a whole other level. Tears streaming down your eyes, pouty red lips, you spilling your darkest desires, surrendering everything to him because he had the upper hand, it had him palming his painfully hardened dick through his pants, it was naughty all right- but damn it was tempting.

He let a low growl release from his throat as he heard another low whine escape your lips, and the pathetic cries while you clenched your thighs together,

“Reaper…. Please, just do this for me… and I’ll give you everything.”

You had your head tilted back the entire time, giving Reaper the whole view of your neck, the perfect canvas so he could mark you up and paint his teeth on you.

“Reaperrr- wha the deal-“

The last working cell in his brain spoke out, trying to hold him down and back as if he was a rabid dog,

“Shut up! Fucking hellll.”

Reaper lowered his gaze to the ground, not wanting to be spurred on more by your hips grinding onto the chair, although he still subtly rubbed his hardened length.

Simon thought he’d might make it through it- his little façade of being Reaper, and might just let you go instead and humiliate you for your naughtiness and unfaithfulness to the Ghosts. But you were sultry one, mumbling out loud enough for his ears to hear,

“Make. Me.”

Reaper came back and practically gulped at your daring words, and that’s when the thread of his patience and tolerance- snapped.

Head tilted back not by your choice anymore, but by the force of his large hand squeezing your throat and holding it in that position.

“Want me to shut you the fuck up?”

You were able to pull up one side of your lip, putting up a smirk as the words came out,

“Did I stutter... Reaper?”

“Fuck it-“

The zipper of his pants went down and in seconds his leaking tip came into your view as he had lowered your head by gripping your hair.

“See this? This is what your naughtiness does.”

Sucking your bottom lip then releasing it you questioned,

“What does it taste like?”

Reaper only smirked and muttered,

“Taste the fruit of your affliction, Red.”

No more smiles or words came you of your dirty mount, as it was stuffed to the brim by his fat cock.. shutting you up. He gave you no time to think or breathe as he fucked your mouth roughly, his hips hitting against your lips as he didn’t relent for one second.

“Fuck- suck on this fat- c-cock! Maybe that’ll shut you u-up! Oh Fuc-“

Groaning out in ecstasy as he held a full hand of your hair, guiding you back and forth, making sure your tongue got every bit of him, your nose touched his pelvis, and his cock touched the back of your sore throat.

“Such a good mouth you fucking slut- ohh fuck!!”

He’s had blowjobs before- but this? Ohh he could’ve sworn he was in heaven at how pleasurable it was. The way your tongue grazed over him and how you applied the right pressure, it got him on every nerve- the right way. To the point his eyes were rolling back and he was panting in desperation, his peak skyrocketing to incoming release.

“Fuck it I’m s-so close!! Ah!!”

But now as he loved the way you felt, he didn’t want to cum in your mouth anymore.. he wanted to cum on all of you.

“Fuck you-“

He left you gasping for air as he had suddenly pulled out, whimpering at the lost of your warm tongue on him, but he then growled as he searched like a mad man through his pockets for the key to the chains.

He had gotten most of them off of you in lightning speed, but the frustration of his high pending had him ripping off the rest of the chains from the chair, sending the pieces flying.

You were shocked at his desperation, and at his strength, trying to collect the thought of who he was as he was controlling, weak, desperate, and a good fucker-

“AH!”

Breath escaping your lungs as Reaper had grabbed you by the waist roughly and placed you face-down on the ground, hips pulled up to meet his crotch.

But what confused you was when he hesitantly asked, still using his firm tone,

“You sure are you want this?”

Your head was pressed to the cold ground by his hand, but you lifted it slightly as he had let you do so, wondering what you were going to say. Eyes meeting his you replied nonchalantly,

“It’s part of the deal isn’t it?”

His stern look turned unexpressive,

“That doesn’t answer it-“

“Fuck me Reaper, please.”

Fine, that’s what you wanted that’s what you’d get.

“As you wish.”

Cold air met your ass as he had pulled down your shorts, lifting your knees so he could slide them off completely.

‘Smack!!’

You let out a sharp squeal as his warm, large palm had met your ass, before his cock was pressed up to your clit, rubbing your wet slick all over it. You had grown soaking wet at gagging on his cock, and now your wetting him again as he’s pressing his tip into you.

He watched you for your reactions to his thick cock entering your tight pussy, but like that damned trained Ghost you were, you were expressionless, holding all the emotions in you in a cage, even when the craziest of things were happening to you.

But that made him almost angry, hating that you were the Ghost and hiding the emotions, while he gave up everything of himself to break you.

So he’d then break you- with his cock.

The rest of his length he slammed into you, and the only reaction you showed was with a groan,

“oh fuck”

He had started pounding into that pussy of yours, harder than ever, his hands gripping your ass tightly or your hips, wanting to leave marks and maybe cause a fraction a pain to you- just to hear your cry or break- but instead you moaned out like a bitch in heat. Although tears had started to fall- not cause your soul broke, but your body responded to him breaking it.

“Fuck!! Ugh- harder Reaper pl-please!!”

A sob escaped your wet lips as Reaper grasped onto your hip painfully hard, and his other hand found your throat, bringing your back against his chest with a hard smack, earning a delicious gasp from you.

He relentlessly began to rut into your throbbing pussy. Punctuating his words with every thrust.

“Fuckin’ helll... What. A. Good. Fucking. Pussy. Yesss Ohhhh fuck!!”

Squelching, wet sounds could be heard from your pussy as you were dripping from his precum and yours, skin slapping repeatedly followed as he went on and on, following your command to the perfect ‘T’.

His hard thrusts met your cervix every time, hitting that gummy part in you that had your toes curling and eyes rolling back, your breath was even knocked out of you as he pounded you like an animal.

Soon his hand left your hip, and traveled down your navel, straight to your clit, his two fingers pressed down on it and made you squeal,

“Oh!! Reaper- please touch my pussy! Ah- Yes!!! Like that!!!”

Small but hard circles were pressed onto your clit, further stimulating your climaxing high as your body was experiencing euphoria on a whole other level. He could feel how dangerously close you were to the edge, as your pussy clamped down hard on his cock, swallowing his length like a tight vice.

So to put an end to the chase, he purposely found your clit once again and rubbed tight circles, while railing into you faster than ever as he felt his high coming too.

“Cum f’me. C’mon Red- oh fuck-“

You got a hand full of his hair from behind you and pulled it as you began to see stars and your legs even started shaking.

“Oh fuck I’m cumming- please don’t st-stop!! Oh fuck Reaper!!”

Toes curling as you let out a long moan, finally feeling the band snap, and stars escaping every where. Reaper rode out your high as he rutted his hips into you, dragging the pleasure out for you as he drive himself closer, wanting to feel your warm cunt a little longer.

He was going to come any second now, his thrusts were harsh, quick, and the rhythm wasn’t consistent anymore, he had lost his streak a long while ago as he was going crazy rutting into your pussy.

All this while you were of breath, as you felt it all dissipate, but it was cut short when Reaper suddenly held a firm grip on your waist and flipped you over.

“Oh-“

When you fell on your back you saw the man hover over you. He was covered in sweat and his cheeks held a bright pink color, his eyes- all of him screamed sex and highs as he looked down at you hungrily.

When he had discarded all of his clothes- you’d never know, but he was bare before you, his tits- chest.. his chest glistening in the light covered in different tattoos which held different stories.. scars were part of the design on his canvased body.

Wet sounds could still be heard and that’s when your eyes and head tracked down to seeing him milk his cock, girthy it was and long in length too, red at the tip.

Your hands grabbed onto his that held your throat tight, as he began to let low moans and small whimpers escape.

Wanting to spur the moment, you began to coo,

“Come on Reaper... reward me.. give it to me.”

Your voice got him high and in seconds you were hearing a deep growl escaping his parted lips, and soon felt the warmth of his thick white cum painting your tummy to your breasts.

For being called Reaper he looked like a angel to you. He was quite the sight to behold... but now.. it was your time to shine like the Ghost your were after all.

As he tired to soak in is post-sex moment, you caught him by the waist with your legs, and flipped him around, where you ended up above him- hovering over him this time.

Simon’s brown eyes didn’t catch yours as your face was over his, but it was a glistening shine, a dagger shining in threat as it was pressed against his throat.

Words couldn’t collect in his mind which meant his tongue was speechless.

‘What the fuck-‘

“Did I pass the test Lieutenant.. Ghost?”

That sultry voice of yours came out from the bottom of your cold heart.

Simon let out a choked sound as he couldn’t quite grasp what the heck had just happened and what the hell he was looking at.

He was still coming down from his high and now feeling confusion if not panic arise in him at this, and it wasn’t a good combination if you wanted a clear head. But his fuck up kinda dawned on him as you added,

“I knew it was you Simon Riley…”

Oh fuck he shamelessly could’ve cum again at the sound of his name rolling off your tongue, how wicked of you, but weak of him.

Although his eyes did widen and still showed that he didn’t necessarily believe you, so you went on with a sweet chuckle,

“what? You though that only you did your homework on people? Ha.. think again ‘Ghost’.. no matter how much ‘you’ think so little of me, I’ll always be a Ghost.. and of course.. I did my homework on you too. I know ALL about you.”

You then planted your hand on his neck, where a large scar laid, and you calmly yet firmly stated, eyes filled with honesty,

“I wrote the file on when you got buried alive, and crawled your way out. And this scar, I wrapped it up for you while you were unconscious on the heli when we finally found and picked your ass up.”

A breath of relief was then released from your lips, as you had finally got this confession off your chest, with exhaustion you plopped down onto Simon’s chest, resting your palms on your thighs. Simon didn’t realize how effective you were as a Ghost, and how much you knew about him now more than ever… he couldn’t risk letting you go now.

His hands snaked around you and rested on your hips, giving a gentle squeeze as he declared,

“You can’t tell a soul about this.”

With that seductive way of yours, you leaned over Simon and traced his jaw with the dagger, looking straight into his soul as you suggested.

“Then you better ask ‘How hard?’ every time I tell you to fuck me- understood?”

The authority in your voice had him reply with a shuddered breath, not being able to take his ego off its knees. And of course, he was going to comply, he was just as addicted now.

“Affirmative ma’am.”

You smirked in triumph at his response, bringing his pink lips to yours, pressing a messy kiss to his lips and tasting the roof of his mouth. He let a sigh escape his throat in pleasure, but it didn’t last long when you bit down hard on his bottom lip, causing him to hiss. Blood trickled down his plumpy lip to his chin, but before it could touch the ground, you slowly- while keeping eye contact with Simon, you licked it up and cooed,

“Good boy…”

Like a shy school boy Simon’s cheeks were dusted with pink, his eyes not meeting yours anymore as he was filled with shame for his foolishness, and for how weak he was- falling into a Ghost’s trap so easily.

You then gripped his chin and gave him a last lecture, just for him to carry on.

“Next time you pull a gun on me to question my ability.. just remember I’m always two steps ahead of you- although fucking your gun was damn pleasurable. Oh and one last thing.. I specialize in seductiveness as a Ghost… this pussy gets answers every time. But no one has lived ‘till the end of it- but you..”

-I need help y’all-

#call of duty #call of duty smut #cod smut #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost simon riley #simon riley smut #ghost smut #cod ghost #simon riley #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley cod #ghost cod #simon riley fanfic #simon ghost riley

[majinbangus]

Soap teaches you a new skill through unconventional methods...

"Ye really can't do it?"

You glance at the man who made himself at home on your office couch. He came in earlier after training, claiming he had free time, so he decided he best spent it bothering you. You should have kicked him out as soon as he walked through the door. Somehow, the conversation he started got into the topic of rolling r's, and now he won't drop your lack of ability to do so.

"Yeah? It's not a big deal, Soap, plenty of people can't do it."

"I guess I'm just surprised. Figured it'd be something you'd be able to do."

You laugh. "Where'd you get that impression?I'm incapable of it. Trust me, I've tried. Videos don't help, and neither does someone explaining how to move my tongue help. I just can't do it."

"Maybe it's because you haven't tried the MacTavish way."

Your eyebrow twitches. He's up to something, you know it. You can feel it in your bones. Don't encourage it. Just stay quiet. It would be best it you don't as-

"What's the MacTavish way?"

You fool.

Immediately, you know you should have kept your mouth shut, but Soap's slashes into a self-satisfied, cheshire grin. Like the cat that ate the canary, he got you. Easy.

"Well, darlin." He leaves his spot from the couch and saunters over to where you sit frozen at your desk, unable to do anything the closer he gets. "I'm glad you asked."

He's right next to you in a blink, planting a heavy hand on your shoulder. He squeezes tightly, and under any other circumstance, it would have been comforting, but all it does is make you feel like prey. You gulp, and it's clear he sees because his eyes track the movement of your throat, smirk plastered on his face.

You don't dare say anything, eyes wide and head tilted back to look up at him. You've never felt particularly intimidated by Soap before, but standing before you now, in his sweaty fatigues, he somehow looks bigger than usual. It ignites something funny in your belly, something you can't really acknowledge with him looking at you like he might eat you whole. And he just might.

But the scary part? You would let him.

"You see- " the hand he has on your shoulder smoothly travels up the curve of your neck until he's firmly gripping your scruff, pulling an embarrassing sound from your throat " -the MacTavish way isn't something I show you. It's something you feel."

"Feel?" Your voice cracks and his thumb rubs soothing circles against your neck.

"Aye, feel," he confirms with a nod and bends down suddenly, face hovering just over yours, breath puffing gently onto you. You can barely hold back a flinch at the sudden movement, but the hand he has on you holds you firm. "It's an important life skill, wouldn't you agree?"

"U-um, I wouldn't say it's-" He squeezes your neck and you clear your throat, correcting yourself. "Yes, sir."

He huffs out a laugh and gentles his hold as if in praise. It oddly makes you preen. "So you'll let me teach you, won't you?"

It doesn't really sound like a question- it more borders as a command, and fuck him because he's not even your sergeant- but you can't bring yourself to say no, or anything really. All you can do is meekly jerk your head up and down, heart racing in your chest, and do your best not to whimper when he chuckles at you and says, "Good pet, just follow my lead and I'll have you rolling your r's in no time."

He doesn't give you a chance to say anything, pulling you by the scruff and leaning in to capture your lips. You instantly fail at keeping your noises in check. Pathetic little whimpers and moans get swallowed into Soap's mouth as he doesn't even attempt at easing you into the open-mouth, dirty kiss. It's sloppy and messy, but it's slow so you can follow along, even while it has you feeling like jelly.

His hand lets go of your neck, but you don't get a moment to miss it because it's quick to grip you tightly beneath the chin, fingers curling over your jaw and into your cheeks, ensuring you keep your mouth open, not that you would have closed it, despite feeling yourself drool.

You feel his tongue press incessantly against yours, playing with it, before guiding it into his mouth. He lets you feel the way he moves and positions his tongue as he begins to softly roll an r, a gentle purr-like sound producing from his throat. It's a curious thing to feel, and you're careful not to disturb him too much, but he isn't deterred. He only stops to hum in approval at your gentle exploration.

He repeats the roll a few more times before licking back into your mouth for his own exploration, moving your tongue around until it's positioned like his was. He pulls back with a filthy string of saliva breaking off and a satisfied smirk on his face. "Try rolling your r's now, darlin."

You attempt it, and while it sounds a lot better than before your lesson, you still don't quite get it.

Soap doesn't seem bothered by it, though. He just chuckles and says, "Practice makes perfect. I'll let you feel as many times as you need, darlin. Now gimme a kiss."

-

《 scene i wanted to include but couldn't:

Reader attempting to roll r's and Soap laughing at you because you 'look like a puppy trying to growl' 》

Be gentle please it's my first time writing an actual fic in a while (￣～￣；)

ugh i wanted to keep this shorter, sorry

#john soap mactavish x reader #john soap mctavish x reader #soap mactavish x reader #soap x reader #soapy thoughts :]

[st4rwon]

enhypen followed you !

3) not you hypnotizing yourself - wc: 0.6k

synopsis - jake, being the clumsy guy he is, accidentally follows you from the official enhypen account on twitter. this leads to your life taking a full 180 and having to deal with being in the public eye.

you carefully walked up to the receptionist’s desk, your steps were shaky since you were beyond anxious.

“you must be yn, you can sit in the lobby, there will be someone to escort you shortly” said the receptionist kindly.

you took a seat in one of the chairs and looked around, damn this building was huge. as you were gazing you felt someone staring at you. as you turned around you noticed two men quickly hiding behind a pillar. you couldn’t help but be a bit weirded out, but decided it was best to just let it go.

you scrolled on your phone, trying to calm your nerves, but it didn’t work well. you were still nervous as hell. the amount of attention you had been getting online hadn’t really hit you yet, but you’ve been steering clear from looking at tweets, apart from your friends.

you were satisfied with the outcome of the meeting and truly were feeling a lot better. though you were still a bit confused as to how this all happened in the first place, as it was never explained. the team you were talking to allowed for you to just private the account and remove all your followers instead of getting rid of it completely, which had you overjoyed that your memories wouldn’t be gone.

you were about to leave the building, but suddenly you felt someone tapping your shoulder. you looked over and noticed a tall man, dressed quite fashionably. it took a second for you to register who it was, but once you looked at his face your jaw dropped. he noticed how your eyes widened and before you could speak he made a shushing gesture. he motioned you to follow him into one of the rooms, and you hesitantly did.

the second the door closed you couldn’t help but blurt out, “niki?!”

“sorry for scaring you earlier. you’re probably a bit shocked, but i just need a moment of your time.” he spoke, oddly gently.

you just nodded your head, not being able to utter another word. the next thing you know another man pokes out from behind, and you are about to lose it. it was sim fucking jake. your mouth quickly formed an o, and it took a second for you to snap out of it.

“hi…you must be yn, i hope im pronouncing I that right.” jake said, nervously.

“yeah, that’s right” you replied, blushing slightly.

“i heard you were coming here and just wanted to apologize for causing all of this. i bet this has made your daily life more complicated than it usually is, so sorry for causing the inconvenience.”

even after listening to jake’s apology, you just stood there taking it all in. your bias, the person who you admired ever so greatly, was apologizing to you?! this had to be a dream.

jake notices the way you were just staring, eyes wide and mouth still parted a bit. he smiled to himself for a second before asking, “yn…? you good?”

“oh sorry! im just still a bit surprised. its not everyday you see members of your favorite group. i admire you so much and now you’re right in front of me! sorry for rambling…”

jake smiled at the girl, she sure was cute as hell. he couldn’t help but stare into her beautiful eyes, but then riki kicked him. jake quickly shot him a stare, but realized he shouldn’t make the poor girl more uncomfortable than she already was.

“haha you’re fine! i hope you can forgive me though”

“of course! it hasn’t made my life too much more challenging than it already is” you said lying through your teeth. though things hadn’t been horrible, this new attention had definitely raised your anxiety levels to the max.

there was a bit of silence as you both just stared at each other. jake was surprised to see how pretty you were in real life, and you were amazed that jake and niki were standing right in front of you.

“ahem, hate to break this up, but we have a scheduled to get to, and im sure yn has plans as well.” riki said, bringing you both back to the moment.

“yeah, ill be on my way. i forgive you, by the way. not saying there was much to forgive in the first place, but-“

“yn, you’re fine. seriously. and thanks for accepting my apology. ill hopefully see you around, maybe at a concert or event of some sort?”

“hopefully! bye jake. bye niki.”

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[nochukoo97]

boyfriend drabbles (pt.15)

pairing: jungkook x oc

summary: the one where jungkook almost gets into a fight with a guy for you

word count: 1k+

boyfriend drabbles masterlist!

You’re watching Jungkook happily chatting away with Mingyu, ordering another beer from the bar.

Normally you would tell your boyfriend whenever you had felt uncomfortable or uneasy in any situation, Jungkook was always there to protect you and made you feel ten times better.

But now, despite the fact that there was a man sitting afar and staring uncomfortably long at you, you couldn’t help but feel immense guilt in even thinking about asking your boyfriend to leave the club with you.

Jungkook had been putting off hanging around with his friends for a really long time, they always made plans on days that clashed with you and Jungkook’s dates. But even with telling him to go with his friends instead and that you could rearrange the date, your boyfriend was too much of a sweetheart to do so.

Jungkook had always brushed it off and said that there was always a next time to hang out with his friends, and that he preferred to hang out with you even more, but he had practically waited a whole month to simply hang out with Mingyu and the rest of his friends.

“Hi Jagi,” The voice coming from behind you jolts you from your daze, as you turn behind to meet a very concerned Jungkook.

“Hi baby,”

You try your best to force a smile on your face despite wanting to curl up into his arms and ask him to drive you home.

“Wanna head home? You seem tired, we can go back and watch a movie together,” He brushes the hair away from your face, tucking it behind your ear as he pecks your lips.

Jungkook is too much of a sweetheart, you think.

“It’s okay baby, I’m enjoying myself here, go back to your friends, when you want to leave just come here, ‘kay?”

Your boyfriend frowns, as if he can see right through you.

“Are you sure? I want to go home when you want to go home jagi,” He holds both your hands and caresses them.

“Baby I’m fine, go on,” You laugh, nudging him to walk back to his friends as he blows you a dramatic kiss.

You decide to sit at the bar, letting yourself stray away from the loud noise from people dancing with the music.

“Hey pretty,”

Your head whips up in surprise as you’re met with the same guy, smirking oddly at you as you internally cringe.

“I have a boyfriend, sorry,” You smile apologetically at him, presuming he had only good intentions with you.

“So? I can take you home pretty girl, probably satisfy you better than your boyfriend does” He laughs, making you frown and scoot your chair away from him.

What the hell.

“No thanks, I think I’m good,” You swat away his hand that inches near your seat.

“Why not, I’m probably much better than your boyfriend, bet he isn’t as jacked up as I am,”

That makes you cringe both externally and internally, goosebumps forming at your skin.

“Get the fuck away from my girlfriend,”

There’s a tattooed hand grabbing the guy’s shirt, your boyfriend’s face contorting into an angry, and very unfriendly expression.

Much different to what he was like to you a good twenty minutes ago.

“Chill, chill sorry bro,”

The guy raises his hands, looking so-not-jacked as compared to Jungkook’s tall and muscular figure that hovers above the man.

“Don’t call me bro, you disrespected my girlfriend, fucking asshole,”

Jungkook pushes the man away, releasing his grip on the shirt.

You’re expecting a very angry Jungkook to turn and face you,

Instead he has the biggest bambi eyes, hands grabbing yours as he worriedly searches you for any wounds or bruises.

“Jagi, did he do anything, are you okay?” Jungkook’s thumb brushes against your cheek, it’s as if he was a totally different person from how he was acting now.

“Kook I’m fine, he didn’t touch me, just made me a little uncomfortable,”

You grab onto his hand still searching, affirming that you were in fact not hurt, thanks to Jungkook coming to your rescue before anything escalated.

“Why didn’t you come and tell me, I would’ve protected you sooner Jagi-ah,”

You feel a pang in your chest. You feel guilty for not telling him, he seemed genuinely hurt, probably used to you always coming to him no matter how small or big the situation was.

But at the same time you knew you would have felt just as guilty if you had called him and stripped him off of his time with his friends.

“Jagi, you can tell me anything, y'know?”

Jungkook can see right through you.

“M’sorry baby, I felt so bad because you always canceled on your friends for me, didn’t want to deprive you of the one time you had a chance,”

You’re fiddling with your fingers as you look down at your lap.

“I knew something was up, even before that,” Jungkook raises your gaze with a finger under your chin.

“Jagi, if you want to go back, I would just as much love to spend time with you, probably even more than staying here for the rest of the night,”

You might cry from how sweet Jungkook was being.

You hum in response, then pecking his lips.

Jungkook’s smile is quite literally radiating, from the glow of the lights in the club and probably you being too in love with him.

“Let’s go back ‘kay? We’re watching Barbie in bed,” Jungkook grabs your hand and leads you to the entrance.

Thank goodness for your boyfriend, you wouldn’t know what to do without the man.

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