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Just Happened to Be (1)

Summary: Jimin was an asshole, yes. And you were supposed to be nice, meek, and afraid of people like him. But you weren’t; even with a knife at your throat you stayed quiet and unforgiving–and he wasn’t allowed to like it.

Based off this request:

Anonymous said:So how about bad boy Jimin I mean that’s cool I guess cause I mean who need bad boy jimin right pft not me.”

Usual warnings . This is a drug gang fic so naturally there’s gonna be a lotta shit. 

From the moment Park Jimin came in to find you at his work–a tattoo shop in the center of his group’s territory–he decided that he hated you.

He was stepping through the front door, ready to go prep his station for a client coming in later today, only to find you and your best friend waiting in his lobby. Apparently your bombshell of a BFF was waiting to get a piercing done by Namjoon and was perfectly fine with Jimin’s eyes raking down her form and to the curve of her ass (barely covered by frayed shorts). Compared to you, Yoorin–Jimin only knew her name because Namjoon referenced it as he called her back to his chair–was far more Jimin’s type of girl.

He loved skin-tight clothing on a perfect frame and flawless skin. Plus, if the girl looked like the poster image for the definition of Wild Child, then she was given bonus points for attraction. Yoorin fit the bill perfectly–the whole good girl by day, bad girl by night lit a fire underneath Jimin that had him winking at her as he moved towards Namjoon’s station.

But he couldn’t ignore you. Because there you were, standing next to that beautiful piece of work like an absolute monstrosity of a prude.

It was evident that you had never once stepped foot into a tattoo shop–hell, it looked like you hadn’t even sipped a drink before 21, or kept your cell phone on during a movie. You stood with your head ducked forward, wearing a long-sleeved cardigan and a flowery, floor-length skirt that reminded him of grandmothers’ church dresses. Even the damn buttons on your sweater were clasped all the way to your fucking collar bone. You refused to look up or remove your hands from their white-knuckled grasp on the straps of your purse; you staid nothing at all–not even to your friend.

While Jimin found the wicked smile your friend gave Namjoon incredibly hot, your blasé appearance and attitude annoyed the fuck out of him to the point that he wanted you both gone.

With his lip curled, Jimin slapped his stencils on his desk. “Yoongi–what’s with the prude? I thought this was a tattoo & piercing shop, not some strip mall for Sunday school mothers.”

Said older male, at the shop’s customer service desk, only rolled his eyes so far back in his head that Jimin swore he was about to be possessed by some she-devil.  Probably you, but maybe it could be Yoorin–a girl with a rack like that had to be from hell.

“You know, if you don’t start accepting more clients then I don’t know how you’re going to afford your 33rd tattoo, you asshole.” Namjoon shouted from his corner, slipping on his rubber gloves to prepare the equipment needed for Yoorin’s bellybutton piercing.

“Ay, I’m fine–my clientele at least understands what kind of shop we’re running. If the girl wants to follow her friend then she should at least dress like a normal human being.”

You said nothing to defend yourself against the onslaught of Jimin. Instead, Yoorin snapped her head to meet Jimin’s glower with her own fiery glare. Jimin couldn’t help but smirk at her anger. “Hey douchebag, your boss is right–shut the fuck up and leave her alone. If you have clientele that want to deal with your bullshit then great–go find one of them. We clear?” You shifted to give Yoorin this relieved, thankful look that had Jimin’s inner bitch gears grinding.

“Well, unlike your prude friend, you seem to be the perfect clientele for this place so I guess you get to deal with me, huh babe?” Jimin winked at Yoorin, causing her to curl her lip in utter disgust. Before she could give him a snappy retort that would further infatuate Jimin, you grabbed her hand and squeezed tightly. She looked up at you, her eyes softening.

“I’m fine. I’ve got you here, right?”  Yoorin chuckled before her eyes suddenly bugged out; she gripped onto you for dear life as Namjoon slipped the needle through her skin. Jimin didn’t know what telepathic connection the two of you had, but when you looked up to stare at Jimin, it made him want to force you to speak. He wanted some sheepish smile, some old woman apology or a prudish version of contempt.

Instead, you gave him a curt nod and went back to rooting your gaze to the floor as if Jimin got all the answers he needed from that one glance.


After that first meeting in his shop, he never expected to see you again–nevertheless in the same day. That should have been his first inkling that fate was playing a cruel, cruel trick on the both of you.

But he was still stupid then, and his eyes landed on your form as you poured yourself a cup of coffee from the machine at the only convenience store within three blocks of his place–the only shop still open so late at night. Jimin’s eyes locked with yours as you jolted from the sound of the bell announcing his entrance into the store.

The look you gave him made him want to torment you. It made him want to smother that spirit out of you–after all, with the way your eyes met his, it seemed that there was little fight in you.

He liked it when his victims bit back.

He wanted to see what it would take to get you to do so.

“You live close by, Prude?” Jimin raised an eyebrow, stepping close to you to grab a paper cup from the stack by the self-serve machines. “It’s dangerous for a lady to walk out at night by herself, you know–especially one just begging for it.”

You said nothing to him, only turned your back to him to address the syrups in a row next to the coffee.

“I know you’re not deaf, Prude; so how’s about you say a couple sweet words for me? That pretty friend of yours isn’t around to defend you, so get the damn guts to do it yourself.” He hissed, purposefully bumping into your shoulder so your coffee spilled onto your sweater.

You stared down at the stain in your sweater, your lips pursed at it before you lifted your gaze to meet his, one eyebrow raised incredulously.

“What?” He smirked at you from the corner of his eye. “It was an accident.”

The look on your face was perhaps the largest display of emotion Jimin had seen from you yet.

He chuckled, leaning against the stainless steel ledge to fill his cup up with steaming coffee. “If you’re going to be such a bitch about a little stain then how about you make me apologize? Or can you? Remember, Prude, this isn’t the place or time for you to be picking fights with angry men. What would happen if one followed you out the store?” He started towards you predatorily, moving towards the lids you seemed to be guarding behind you. Jimin’s stare engulfed you, swallowing you whole as he invaded you personal space.

And then, before he could grab his lid, you did something unexpected.

You upturned your entire cup of–steaming, mind you; burning actually–coffee all over his shoe. His sock quickly turned into a rag of fire that seared into his skin and caused him to shout in pain, dropping his own coffee to the floor.

“Shit! Fuck! Fuck fuck fuck!” He hissed, his gaze flickering up as he pulled his hand back to smack whatever stupid expression awaited him–instead, he found you with your hand over your mouth as if to say ‘oops, sorry’.

But he saw the hints of a smile on your face and if he listened closely past the bland elevator music of the convenience store, he swore he could hear soft laughter.

“You bitch.” He curled his lip at you, “you want me to kill you? You have a fucking death wish?”

You shrugged and strode past him to grab a fresh cup to fill with coffee.

“Hey!” He shouted, reaching out to grab your shoulder. “I’m talking to you, you fucking–”

“Sir, I’m going to have to ask you to leave.” The forgotten clerk stepped between him and you, name badge glinting under the fluorescent lights as if the fucker thought he was a damn sheriff at a fucking 7 eleven.

“And not the bitch who spilled coffee on me?” Jimin snarled, squaring up to the guy.

“Not unless you want to still be here when the cops get here.” Sheriffeleven grinned, knowing he’d won.  Jimin clucked his tongue and threw a handful of eye daggers at your back before jogging out of the convenience store.

Now where the fuck was he going to go for coffee?


The third flip of fate happened weeks later, as if life had planned to consistently throw you in Jimin’s face. Whatever bullshit powers were up in the sky or down below, it seemed like the world was conspiring to throw the two of you together until something either stuck or died. Jimin was betting on the latter and that the ghost-to-be loser would be you.

This guess was probably due to the fact that you had Taehyung’s knife against your throat despite the earlier struggle of your attempted escape.

Well, Taehyung really wasn’t after you to begin with, it was Jimin’s mobile group that captured his interest–you just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. It seemed that “just happened to be” was a phrase that suited your existence. You were unaware of it–up until the moment Taehyung’s hand had snaked around your waist when Jimin snarled “Prude” to the streets–but Jimin’s tattoo shop was a front for a major drug business in the surrounding territory.  Unfortunately for you, you were caught between Jimin’s and the neighboring territory: Taehyung’s.  Taehyung, and most of his crowd, were knife wielding crazies never content with what they had; there was always more–the grass was always greener.

But then again, people in Jimin’s line of business tended to be greedy to the point of self-destruction.

Jimin stared over you, knowing full well that he was the cause for you being trapped. The old Jimin would be pissed; the current Jimin gave no fucks. “Tch, Taehyung. What the hell are you doing here?” Yoongi rolled his eyes as he stuffed his hands in his pockets, stopping his gang in their tracks to create a strip of no man’s land between Taehyung’s side and his own. “Don’t you have somewhere else to be? Say…I don’t know…your bar or something? Isn’t 10 the start of the weekend boom?”

“We close at 10 on Sundays.” Taehyung let out a wicked smile.

“It’s Friday.” Namjoon raised an eyebrow.

Jungkook stuck out his jaw, narrowing his eyes on the older man from across the way. “We have our connections. We know when you’re coming and when you’re leaving from our territory. Especially when you all move at once.”

Taehyung jostled his shoulder into the youngest’s. “Now now, let’s be polite to our guests. Shouldn’t we offer them some dinner?” Taehyung stared down at you. “How about you, sweetie? Want something from our cook? Big Mama Jin’s got the best stuff across five different cities.” It felt like the man was talking through you more than he was to you.

The fear was evident in your eyes, but Jimin couldn’t find it anywhere else in your expression or mannerisms. He almost wanted to see Taehyung cut you just to see something he hadn’t from you before.

“We were going to a restaurant in your territory. It’s nothing that concerns you, Taetae.” Jimin winked, causing the knee-jerk reaction in Taehyung that he loved more than anything else. It was a flick of salt in a wound that gave Jimin the coppery aftertaste of revenge on his tongue.

“Say that again.” Taehyung threatened you instead of Jimin, playing the only card easily available in his deck.

Jimin locked eyes with you, sensing your pleading fear as your lips parted. But you said nothing. “Taetae.” Jimin growled.

“Taetae! Ah! There’s my little bro!” Taehyung’s older brother rubbed his hand into his hair until the prettyboy’s locks entangled themselves into a nest. “How’ve you been?”

Jimin hated that man; he hated the man that took his best friend away from him.

“Shut up, Jimin.” Taehyung shouted, the vein in his neck popping. He was building up to an edge that would probably take you down with him, but Jimin was more than willing to shove his once-friend over that cliffside. Even if the world burned, Taehyung had to pay for his sins as much as Jimin had for his. “Do you want me to hurt this girl here?”

Jimin raised an eyebrow, unable to help the sputter of laughter that had him half folded with laughter. “Do you mistake me for the Jimin I was years back? You’d be doing me a favor if you took her out–the prude’s been annoying me the moment I met her.” Jimin’s cold gaze met yours. “Get rid of it, take it out for dinner, kill it–I don’t care.”

“She’s one of your clients, no?” Jungkook shouted. “I saw her walk out of your shop!”

Jimin let out another bark of laughter that seemed to pierce across the bubble of no man’s land. “Yeah no; does she look like she’s got any tattoos or would be willing to put up with my shit? Hell, she’s about to piss herself right now. She’s weak and the weak die. Your brother should know that, shouldn’t he Taetae?”

The knife twitched dangerously in Taehyung’s hands as he glowered at Jimin with the intent to murder–kill who was another story, but the concept of death was apparent. Your chin had to dart up to avoid the sharp edge of his blade as it came frightfully close to the thin skin of your neck; the movement brought Taehyung’s attention from Jimin to you. “Oh babygirl,” Taehyung chuckled as you shivered in his grasp–even unintentional on your part; it was the exact wrong move if you wanted to escape. Taehyung fed on fear. “You better calm down or else an accident might occur–I really don’t want to kill you before desert.”

Even you could see the tension between the two in particular, despite the fear in your eyes, you stared between Jimin and Taehyung. But you did not speak; not even with a knife at your throat did you open your damn mouth.

It was something that increased Taehyung’s interest in you, causing him to let out a cackle more monster than human. “Come on baby–you gotta speak up. I need some of that vocal material to work with later on.” When you pursed your lips tight together it only enticed Taehyung. “Cat got your tongue, eh? You know I could give you a reason to speak–or at least make more noise than you are now.” He chuckled, causing Jimin’s hands to curl at his sides.

That crude attitude was the main difference between Jimin’s group and Taehyung’s–Taehyung was ready to be predatory, they were ready to attack, kill, hurt, maim, and assault innocents; namely innocent females. Jimin’s group was only ever interested in the drug money; if they had to kill and torture to obtain the cash then that was what they’d do. This fact alone was one of the reasons Jimin joined Yoongi’s tattoo shop–that and Taehyung’s pack was the main rival in the underground business.

When Taehyung’s eyes lifted to meet Jimin’s, a horrible flash of a smirk lit up his face as the crazed man tilted his head to hover his lips dangerously close to your skin. “You know,” Taehyung’s eyes never left Jimin’s, “I bet you could make far better noises than Sooyoung.”

“Leave her out of this, Taehyung.” Jimin snarled, his anger barely wrangled in by the skeletons of his closet. “She was never yours to begin with.” Jimin could feel his neck pop; if it weren’t for Yoongi holding his arm out to stop the younger from lurching forward, Jimin would have been beating the shit out of his once friend.

“You’re just angry because she liked me better.” Taehyung chuckled.

“And she died for it, you fucker.” Jimin hissed, savoring the idea of having Taehyung’s neck under his tightening thumbs. And then your gaze pierced through that hopeful satisfaction; there was something about the glitter in your eyes in that moment that had him reeling back in Yoongi’s grip.

“Jimin,” She giggled, even trapped in an idyllic memory, he could feel the goosebumps rise up his skin, “What’re you thinking about?”

He could almost feel the grass again, that one spot that he enjoyed lying in more than any other; he could almost feel the sun on his face–before Sooyoung blocked it out with her shadow. “Taehyung.” He murmured, squinting to see past her halo. Yoongi always told him memories were skewed; the way that we see people we lost is always a bit crooked.

We forget the bad.

Her fingers were in his hair and he savored that feeling over the tightening knot of worry in his chest. “You need to relax.” She whispered, her fingers soothing his scalp. “You’ll get wrinkles early and then you won’t be handsome anymore.” She chuckled when he opened one eye to glare at her.

“You know what that part of the city means, Sooyoung. You know what he’s going to get himself into–you know–”

She gently flicked his forehead, pouting at him. “You worry too much, dummy.” But he could never tell if she was joking; she never let anything real pass through her eyes. “You’re too nice for your own good sometimes.”

He grinned up at her, pretending like there wasn’t more to her words. “But that’s what you like about me, right?”

Taehyung cut him from his memory trap.

“Aren’t you going to go get food, Jiminnie?”

“Jiminnie!” She shouted, her arms wrapping around his waist so she could bury her face between his shoulder blades.

Yoongi couldn’t stop Jimin this time; instead, the younger was lunging past his groups’ grasps to bolt out into the no man’s land between the warring gangs.

Instead of clashing with Taehyung like he oh so wanted to, Jungkook–the youngest and toughest of both sides–rammed into Jimin.

The moment Jungkook’s forearm hit Jimin’s chest (though he did manage to land a hard kick to the youngest’s shin), the street broke out into chaos. It was the first shot–the first bullet to start a war. It became a haphazard mess of limbs and metallic flashes of hidden blades. No one brought a gun this time–a plus in the unexpected expected fight. In the cacophony that was a gang fight, Jimin lost sight of both you and Namjoon; he could still catch glimpses of Yoongi attempting to get to him through the battling limbs of snarling men. And then Seokjin appeared behind Yoongi and Jimin’s efforts to escape Jungkook’s grasp intensified.

Honestly though, Jimin had just wanted some fucking noodles and instead he was getting punched across the face so hard that fell backwards and crashed back first, crashing back first into the ground.  Through the flurries of pain that erupted up his spine, Jimin grabbed Jungkook’s ankle, yanking the younger to the asphalt.

In the distance, he could here sirens–though they might have been closer than he thought; Jimin really couldn’t hear much past the blood rushing in his ears and the pain of his skin scraping on the busted road.

Jimin threw Jungkook off of him and rammed his boot into the younger’s chest to keep him down enough to throw a hard punch to his jaw. It was in that moment, when Jimin was going to hunt down Taehyung, that he felt the sharp pain of cold metal slipping deep into his skin.

Sharp pain wasn’t the correct term for it either–it was more like an agonizing stab that tore through his entire body and made it hard for him to get air to his lungs. He turned, as the steel left him, catching sight of Taehyung’s favorite knife sparkling with blood–Jimin’s blood. He stared at his once friend, remembering them pinkie promising as children that they would be best friends forever.

Jimin crashed to the ground on his knees, clutching at his side only to find it slippery as blood gushed between his fingers. His arms quickly went weak and he smashed his shoulder into the asphalt, rolling onto his good side in an attempt to find Namjoon or Yoongi. All he could see was running footfalls, sirens and lights blurring his vision as people shouted and ran away from whatever doom was about to befall upon Jimin. He couldn’t even lift his head off the asphalt, nevertheless get up and run from the cops. For once, his group was nowhere to be found. Was this what happened when you were about to die?

Everyone that you believe cared about you left you to bleed out?

“Shit.” He cursed, trying to scream for someone–anyone–but he was unable to raise his voice above a low whine. Jimin’s vision spun, a whirlwind of a muddled mess that blurred the feet coming to and away from him. Suddenly, he realized that there were shoes before him and a hand on his arm, lifting him up. The person slung one of his arms over their shoulders, their free hand pressing his tighter against his wounded side. With huge, quick, and limping steps, they pushed him toward and into the blurriest blob of a car.

“Yoongi?” He croaked out.

“No.” It was a voice he didn’t recognize; he couldn’t care less, he just wanted out of there, away from the cops. If he was to die it wasn’t going to be in chains.

So, for the time being, he trusted the person buckling him into their car enough to allow himself to pass out from the pain.

The last thing he remembered from that moment was that his savior had soft and gentle hands.

Almost like they cared about a lowlife loser like him.


When Jimin finally awoke, he found himself in a bathroom–specifically in the bathtub of a bathroom that appeared to belong to a female. He eyed the organized chaos that was the rows of makeup, hair and other beauty products that he was unfamiliar with.

He tried to sit up to get a better picture of where the fuck he was and who the hell had nabbed him from the street, only to be met with a spike of agony that pulled at his side the second he shifted. He hissed in pain, his hand flying to the wound. Somewhere along the way he removed his shirt and threw it into a puddle on the floor, revealing tight stitches pulling at raw skin dried with blood. Homemade–he’d recognize the sight anywhere; though these are far more even than any he’d done himself.  

Jimin threw a glance over his shoulder, staring at the pillow, the rosy pink comforter now stained with red, the rags crusted with dried blood lined on the edge of the tub–he saw the whole story in the mess. This person knew what they were doing. He forced himself up into a sitting position, gritting his teeth as his gripped the edges of the tub to aid him. The pain was an intense heat wave that bloomed beads of sweat across his forehead and neck.

It was when he was catching his breath that the bathroom door opened and you walked in–walked in nothing but a sleep tank and pair of shorts.

Jimin was unable to turn his eyes away from you; his gaze was rooted to your previously covered expanses of skin. Shocked that he was awake and staring, you hurriedly snatched a robe from the back of your bathroom door to hastily cover up. But it was already too late; Jimin had seen them.

He had openly stared at the scars that covered every inch of your normally hidden skin. Jimin couldn’t tear his eyes from the robe, as if he had x-ray vision that would allow him to go back to unashamedly uncovering all of your secrets.

You opened your mouth to speak, but no sound came out. Instead, you wound up smacking your lips shut together, squeezing the ice pack that you had brought in with you.

“That for me?” He hooked a lazy finger to the ice, waiting until you nodded before stretching his arm out to grab it from you. You clung to your robe, stretching your upper body across the void between him and you without moving your feet. Jimin took the pack, laying it across the back of his neck to cool down his fevered skin. He wouldn’t show you, but even the simple movement tugged at his stitches and had him inwardly groaning in pain.

You flipped your thumb up and then down, your eyebrows furrowed on Jimin. He gave you a thumbs up accompanied by a dramatic eyeroll.

“Are you capable of speech, Prude?”

You nodded, your fingers digging into the plush fabric of your robe.

“But there’s something stopping you–or are you just choosing not to speak.”

You held up one finger, nodding fervently as if he would just drop the topic entirely.

He pursed his lips, staring at a section of your bathroom tile instead of at you. He tried to imagine the girl who was willing to pour hot coffee on him saving him from his death–but the pieces wouldn’t click in his black and white brain. “Why…I’m assuming it was you–why did you save me?” He shifted his gaze back to you at the end of his words, unsurprised to find you bold enough to keep your eyes level with his.

You only gave him a curt nod.

“Why?” He hissed with the sudden pain of shifting, of trying to stand up to shake the stupid out of you. Suddenly, you were there before him, offering your arms as support–the robe dropping to your feet, forgotten with your determination to help him.

“You know, Jimin, nice people like you always get taken advantage of; yet you’re never the winners.”

“Karma will come around.” He chuckled, trying to drag her out of her moment of seriousness. He didn’t like it when she got serious; it felt like he lost her when she got serious, like she was out on a raft in the middle of an ocean and he didn’t know how to swim.

“Do you believe in karma?” She whispered.

He didn’t know what to say; so instead he did the only thing he could do–he put his hand on hers with the hope that the pressure of his skin could pull her back. “I have to.”

“Well I don’t.” She retaliated quickly; her eyes lost somewhere he couldn’t reach. “Bad things happen to good people all the time, if there was karma then such instances wouldn’t exist.”

“Don’t touch me.” He shoved you away, grabbing his head from the sudden pressures of his memory. “Don’t fucking touch me.”

You jerked back from him, your hands still poised to assist him if need be.

“You’re stupid you know? I should just kill you right here and take everything away from you. Maybe then you’d finally learn something or get the courage to open your stupid mouth. Hey, then I’d be doing us all a favor, wouldn’t I? Because who in the hell would want to look at your scarred, ugly skin–”

You slapped him, staring down at him with a fury in your gaze that reminded him of his own.

Back when he was younger and still gave a damn.

But you didn’t leave; despite all his shit you crouched near him, flicked his forehead and forced him to sit back so you could clean the dried blood off his stitches.

“You’re stupid.” He groaned, resting his head against the pillow. “So fucking stupid.”

You raised both eyebrows at him as if to say ‘I know, and?’

“I should kill you, honestly. You’re more trouble to yourself anyways.”

You pinched his stitches and he let out a yelp of pain, your face splitting into a grin as his head snapped up to glare at you.

“For a bitch who can’t speak you’re pretty damn ruthless.”

You slapped a fresh gauze pad to his stitches with no mercy, grabbing your robe off the ground to pull over your shoulders and hide your exposed scars. Without another word or glance, you closed the bathroom door behind you as you left.

anonymous asked:

this is a random question but what hogwarts houses do u think the deh kiddos would be in?? im leaning towards evan hufflepuff, connor ravenclaw, zoe griffindor, and alana slytherin :0


imo alana’s in slytherin, zoe’s in gryffindor, connor’s in hufflepuff, jared’s in ravenclaw (tho i was torn between that & hufflepuff for him), and evan’s in slytherin but All Houses Are Good Houses t b h

Laundry Room (M)

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader 
Genre: Smut. 
Word count: 3.1k 

Part one: Kitchen Counter. Part three: The Club.

Summary: He was about to dive back in for your mouth, but you successfully held his jaw so he couldn’t move in any further, leaving your lips only inches apart. “Your sister’s down the hall.” You whispered against his mouth. He groaned in disapproval of you trying to reject him before speaking again, “She’s not gonna come in here.” 

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kara danvers deadass buttons her shirts up all the way. top button and all. you know who does that? me, a lesbian. and other lesbians, like herself.


Why build a tiny house instead of buying existing small house or trailer?

The biggest reason for me is creative empowerment.

There are so many things we aren’t in control over. But one of them, if you have some money put aside, is your shelter. There’s something incredibly validating about building my own shelter.

If you think about it, how many things do you create on a daily basis, vs consume? How much of your individualized potential is being expressed in your daily life, vs molded by others?

So many of us wake up in beds designed for the masses, wearing one size fits all PJs, grabbing our push-button coffee out the door on the way to our increasingly commoditized jobs in the car with the “best reviews”.

Best not become unemployed or you’ll lose access to your pharmaceutically manufactured pills. That would make the CEOs very angry.

I sleepwalked through 3 years of consumption before I finally realized I’m not even participating in my own life!

In my house, everything is exactly how I want. And if it’s not, I’ll have intimate knowledge how to change it.

Solar power, heated floors, loft speakers, enclosed shower, four-burner range… Hell a garden in my living room if I so desire. I can have it all in 150 sq ft. for about $30,000. And go anywhere with all that too. And no one can evict me or foreclose on it.


Title: Hallelujah 
Pairing: Tyler/Reader
Rating: Mature
Warnings: CHURCHBOY TYLER. Dirty talk, daddy kink, shyness, needy!Tyler, fluffy shit, all sorts of fun I hope you’re gonna like.
A/N: You guys have been begging for this, so I worked it up as best as I could. I really hope you all like it, because it was fun to write.

Originally posted by lightninglime

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If I am ever dying just show me this image. This is my favorite image. Mob’s blank stare into the TV. Ritsu’s tiny legs. Seriously he’s so small. Mob holding a glass of milk. Ritsu wearing slippers that would probably match Mob’s pajamas more and vice versa. Ritsu’s track pants. Mob’s pajama top buttoned perfectly all the way to the top. bURY THIS WITH ME WHEN I DIE

“Blue Flames” - One Shot

Please do not post this anywhere else without my permission. 

Rating: M (Smut) 


You hated going to these functions for Harry sometimes because you didn’t really know how to talk to the rich and famous, much less make a good impression and talk up your boyfriend to these said rich people who were going to make Harry more of a star than he already is. It was much easier earlier on in the relationship to attend to things like this because you knew of three other guys who would be there as a crutch if Harry was off in a serious conversation with a producer or someone who could help him go solo.

           Tonight was so much more different, as Harry was auditioning to land a major movie role and he was extremely excited, but extremely nervous about not getting the part. Knowing that you are HIS crutch made your heart swell a little more, but knowing that you would have to talk to a room full of completely different people, even a completely different scene with no one to fall back on was starting to make the nerves in your stomach race so hard that you felt nauseous. But nevertheless you put on your black dress that fell to the floor in your giant closet that the two of you shared when Harry asked you to move in to his house in LA.

           “Babe?” You heard Harry somewhere in the bedroom, his voice darting a bit forward at the last letter of the word, knowing that he was rounding the corner to the closet. He stood in the doorframe looking down at his hands that were holding two different necklaces, both long; one was gold and the other silver, both holding pendants at the very bottom. The silver pendant adorned his plain silver but slightly larger cross, and the gold chain held one small coin pendant at the bottom and the other chain above it was a small gold cross.

           Harry stuck out his hands that his somewhat more inexpensive pieces dangled from, raising both eyebrows at you. You squinted and your eyes raked over his long and lean torso, a black silk button down (which was almost all the way un-buttoned) was carefully and neatly tucked into the long black and white pinstripe pants over his black and so shiny you could see yourself in them boots. You licked your lips just slightly at the sheer sight of him, and his tongue grazed the inside of his cheek as he rolled his eyes.

           “Don’ have time for that, love,” he grinned his little smirk that made his dimple flash, and you wondered how you weren’t jumping on him right then and there.

           “Shutup. Not like you don’t do it to me,” you crossed your arms and glared at him, shifting all your weight to one hip. He immediately saw your body change and his eyes flew down to your chest that was pushed up by your arms just enough. You rolled your eyes this time, and poked two fingers hard into his shoulder.

           “This one,” you pointed to the silver cross and helped him get it over his head quickly, as he has seemed to freeze momentarily.

           “Thanks. Kiss,” his lips puckered out and you looked at him for a moment and paused, his lips starting to turn into a frown when you leaned forward quickly and pecked at them, his smile was triumphant.

           “You ready, love?” He asked, shrugging on his very tailored black velour jacket that fell at his hips, nudging his long hair from in-between his shirt and the jacket to fall out easily, adjusting the collar and his hair, again.

           “Mmm, just let me get my coat,” you said to him and turned to the white pea-coat hanging on the rack that you hung carefully as if not to spill or even breathe on it before his big night. Just then the moment hit you hard, you knew that it was extra important and wondered how you even agreed to this. It might have been the way Harry was standing in the doorframe looking hot as hell, or it might have been the way he ate you out as a plea and a bribe so feverishly just last night that you thought you went to actual heaven because of all the white and the stars (twice); either way, you were nervous and he was, too.

           “Harry,” you said just barely audible, tears prickling at your eyes.

Harry turned to face you and saw your body frame slumped, almost eaten by the pea coat around your arms and your lips were pouting as to say please, don’t make me do this. He strode over to you and in one simple step of his long legs and he was holding you tightly by the waist with one strong arm, the other swiping his padded thumb over your cheek. You felt his breath linger over your forehead as he kissed the temple, and then dipped his eyes to look at you, searching your face momentarily.

“I won’ leave your side, promise,” he grabbed your hand and intertwined his fingers with yours and tugged slightly, his eyes never left yours as you gave up in defeat and nodded, following him out of the house.  

Keep reading

I Still Haven’t Won Against You

Part 1

Jeon Wonwoo x Reader

Summary: Played poker with him once. He lost. He finally got the rematch he wanted so badly but he lost again.

Genre: Mafia AU, smuttish

Word count: 2,590

Originally posted by mc-gyu

You have no idea how you got yourself in this situation. Seemingly only a few seconds ago you were afraid to go out of your house, hoping not to meet him and the next he had you pinned against the wall, making you feel all sorts of things. And now! Now you’re sitting, playing that stupid strip poker he came up with it. Luckily for you, you were so much better at this, still having all your clothes on. You watched him take off his shirt and throw it on the ground. You took the wine glasses and sipped your drink, hoping he won’t notice you staring.

“How the fuck I keep losing against you is beyond me,” he sighed, leaning his head against the armchair. “I need another drink.”

He stood up and went to the kitchen. He kept doing that every time he lost, getting more and more irritated when he came back. Mostly because his phone has been ringing non stop all evening. You heard him argue with someone again before he hung up and continued the trail of thought he had.

“It’s been like what? The 5th time I lost now?” he shouted from the kitchen.

“6th,” you corrected him.

“And here I hoped I will get to see you in all your glory,” he pouted.

“Keep whishing,” you thought, standing up and picking his shirt up. You put in next to his other clothes. At least he still had his pants on. You noticed something fall out of the shirt and bent down to pick it up. You couldn’t believe this. It was a card. That sneaky bastard was cheating all this time! But you still managed to win, the goddess of fortune was on your side.

“You weren’t supposed to see that,” startled, you jumped up. You didn’t feel him approach you from behind at all. You turned around to look at him.

“What’s this? You cheater ~” you teased him, waving the card in front of his face. He quickly snatched him from your hand.

“You left me no other choice.”

“Yeah right! I knew you were a cheater. I noticed it the first time we played.”

“Oho!.. You noticed? The first time?” this caught his attention. He took a few steps to you, still holding the wine bottle in one of his hands. “Were you watching me?”

You started blushing, of course you were. He was sitting right across you but that wasn’t the only reason. He took a few more steps to you, till you hit the table with your back. He set the bottle on it, cornering you between his hands. You put your palms against his well toned chest in attempt to push him off a little but he kept his stance. You could feel his heart beating.

“Were you?” he whispered to your ear, leaning closer.

“Weren’t you?” you retorted. A smirk appeared on his face as he looked you in the eyes.

“Caught me red handed,” he breathed out. He wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you to him. “That’s what makes you special,” he said, before clashing his lips with yours. You didn’t know what you expected but you must say the wine tasted better off his lips. He pushed you to the table, before lifting you up and setting you on top of it, only then breaking the kiss but he still was so close, you could breathe in his air.

“Are we too drunk or do you really want this?” he whispered. You hooked your legs around his waist and you chuckled as he kissed you again, picking you up and going in the direction of his room. “I will take that as a yes.”

You heard his phone ring again but you two completely ignored it. He threw you on the bed, almost falling on top of you. Your hair spreading everywhere.  He took a few strands off your face, stroking them gently.

“Shit, with all this obsession to play with you, I never got the chance to tell you, how beautiful you are,” instead of letting him see you blushing, you used this opportunity to get another kiss, yanking on the tie he still was wearing for some reason, you ran your tongue over his lips.

“So needy,” he breathed out before going in for it. As he swirled his tongue around yours, he tugged your hair slightly to allow better access. He pulled away to get some air but you two were still connected by a slim trail of saliva. He bit down on his lip.

“Shit,” he said, nibbling down on your ear, sending shivers down your spine. He continued from the ear down to your neck, kissing and sucking on your skin, making sure to leave marks. You could hear his phone going off in the distance.

“Don’t,” you panted out, raking through his hair with your fingers. “Don’t answer.”

“I wasn’t planning to,” he said, shoving his knee between your thighs, he got one hand under your skirt and began hiking it up before you stopped him.

“How about you start from the top?”

“How about you don’t interrupt and let me take care of things,” he smirked, getting a hold of your arms and pinning them above your head, still doing what you suggested. He began unbuttoning your shirt but he quickly got tired of it and quite literally ripped it open.

“Wonwoo!” you whined, “This shirt was expensive.”

“Don’t worry, I will buy you a thousand more like it, after this,” he took it off and threw it on the ground along with his tie. You couldn’t help but notice how stunned he was.

“What? What is it?”

“They’re perfect,” he said more to himself than to you. He cupped your breasts. “So perfect, they fit right into my hands.”

“Wait for what you will see when you take this off then,” you teased.

“Can’t wait to find out,” he unclasped your bra. As if knowing what’s going to happen tonight you even put on the one that opens up in the front. Maybe it was the alcohol or maybe it was just him but somehow you didn’t feel even slightly embarrassed exposing your half naked body like that. He went straight for one of them, planting kisses and sometimes sucking harshly while kneading the other. He pulled away, admiring his work, he brushed over the marks he left, making you fell sparks all over your body. Your breathing hitched as you couldn’t take the tension anymore.  

“Wonwoo-“ you whimpered.

“You asked for this yourself,” he teased, getting one of your nipples between his teeth and biting on it, making you moan.

“I would prefer if you were louder,” he took it whole into his mouth, you could feel his tongue snake  around it, when he released it with a pop. You immediately realized what it was. His phone. Again.

“Don’t you dare,” you ordered.

“Those pricks,” he hissed before giving you a quick peck on the lips and standing up.

“Wonwoo!” you shouted after him. What an asshole! Is he seriously going to leave you hanging like this? You lay down on the bed waiting for him to come back. After listening to his shouts who were incomprehensible from this distance, for at least five minutes, you clasped your bra back on and took your shirt from the ground, putting it on. You got off the bed and went to where he was. As you got closer you could hear the bits of the conversation.

“I said I’m not coming a hundred times today… No… No, it’s not about her… Can’t you just raid them and be done with it?.. Why am I even needed?.. No, you listen to me you motherfu-“

“Fuck!!” he shouted, smashing, his phone on the ground. His chest was rising from heavy breathing. You could see that he was pissed. Something that still scared you.

“Those idiots can’t do anything without me,” he clenched his fists, before turning around and noticing you standing in the doorway. He came up to you and started buttoning your shirt up.

“Is everything okay?” you asked him.

“Yeah,” he said, avoiding your gaze. “Work,” he simply stated.

He had trouble with the buttons though because he ripped half of them off a few minutes ago, so he got his shirt from the armchair, where you placed it before. It was way too big for you but you loved it, it had his smell rubbed off on it. He buttoned you up all the way to the top and you felt like a child, letting him dress you up like that.

“Is that it? Just like that?”

“I’m sorry but this is important…” he sighed. “I must say that this is way harder for me than for you.”

You caught up with what he meant right off the bat, sparing a quick glance down to his waist. He went to the hall to get your shoes and you closely followed after him.

“I already called for your ride back home, so don’t worry about that,” he explained. He gave you your shoes but you didn’t feel like putting them on. “Please don’t get mad… I feel like… I finally got to talk to you, even touch you without you running away… I want to know that I still have a chance.”

You didn’t know what to say, him saying those things didn’t feel like him at all, you were used to seeing him all cheeky and sly so you just gave him a smile while he guided you to the elevator. He went inside of it and gave you one last passionate kiss, he looked you in the eyes still holding onto your bottom lip with his teeth for a while before stepping out and pressing the button for the ground floor.

“When?” you asked.

“Be patient,” he said, as the door closed.


As soon as you were alone you pressed your head against the cold metal wall of the elevator. Oh my god! Were you about to have a one night stand with your ‘stalker’? That’s so not like you. Or could it have been something more? You were completely spaced out that you realized you need to get off when other people started getting in. You walked into the lobby and ignoring the looks people were giving you, started putting your high heels on.

“You must be Y/N.”

“Jesus! Don’t scare me like that!” you looked up to see a man, almost as handsome as Wonwoo is.

“I’m Seungcheol. I will take you home. Come with me,” he said, going to the exit. You quickly finished putting your shoes on and followed after him.

“Were you the one who called him just now?”

“Nope. He has his own things to take care of,” he opened the back door of his car for you.

“Can’t I sit in the front?”

“It will be safer if you sit in the back,” he said. You decided not to argue and got in. The back windows were tinted. Maybe that’s what he meant. Why are you so trusting anyway? At least you can blame it on you being quite drunk if anything happens.

“I live on-“

“I know where you live,” he said, looking at you through the rear view mirror and starting the engine. “Wonwoo told me all about you. Actually the only thing he has been talking about for the past months was you.”

You wondered what he knew and if Wonwoo and him are close. You decided to use this opportunity to find out something about him because he seemingly knew everything there is to know about you.

“I heard he lost against you,” he was the first to speak again. “That was a big surprise for all of us. He hadn’t lost in ages,” he laughed.

“Is that good or bad?” you asked him.

“Depends,” he gave you a quick glance again. “What were you two doing up there?”

“Why cards?” you changed the subject quickly.

“It’s almost the only thing he’s good at. He got himself in a pretty nasty situation. He needed money. The easiest way for him to get some was poker,” he took a sharp turn and you slid down the seat. You found the seatbelt and fastened it. How fast is he driving?

“What did he need the money for?”

“If you don’t know this, it means he didn’t tell you on purpose. I guess if he wants to, he will tell you yourself one day,” he shrugged. After taking a few more turns, you were already home.

“Last question,” you said. “Who are you exactly?”

“I’m the leader.”

“The leader?” you repeated. “Of what?”

“He never told you that too?” he started laughing again. “Then the only thing I can tell you right now is that I’m his boss.”

Is he serious? Leader? Boss? What the hell is he talking about? Both of them are suspicious after all.

“Getting serious though,” he said, turning in his seat and sending you a glare. “I hope I never see you again. You distract him too much,” he leaned over the seats and opened the door for you. “Now, could you please get out of my car?”

You gave him a quick thanks and stepped out, slamming the door shut. You watched him speed away, down the street. Rude.


He told you to be patient but it has already been a few weeks till your little get together. You had to finish these documents by the end of the week but everything from the clock to the thoughts of him sidetracked you. Someone knocked at your door and you got up from your place on the sofa to go get them. You looked through the keyhole and opened them with the speed of light.

“Wonwoo?” you questioned.

He came in and kicked the door close with his feet, wrapping his arms around your waist. He started kissing your neck and you had to push him off.

“Wonwoo are you drunk?” you could smell the alcohol from here.

“I need you,” he said, embracing and holding on to you tightly. He nuzzled his head in your neck. “Sometimes… I just can’t do this.”

“Do what?” you asked but he was quiet. “Wonwoo?.. Are you?.. Are you crying?”

You brushed his hair off his face. He was actually half asleep. Great.

“How much did you drink? Why were you drinking in the first place?” you threw his hand, around your shoulder and dragged him to the bed. Man is he heavy. You dropped him down but as if he waiting for this precise moment, he grabbed your hand and pulled you to the bed. He rolled over, so he could be on top.

“What are you doing?”

“Finishing what we started.”

“I’m not doing anything with you tonight, you’re too drunk.”

He hovered above you for a few seconds. Gazing into your eyes when he plopped down on top of you.

“You’re right,” he whined. “I want to remember every second of it.”

“Wonwoo, could you maybe get off? You’re heavy.”

He did as you asked but still didn’t let go and instead snuggled up to you.

“I’m staying over,” he said.

“Of course you are,” you rolled your eyes.

“You know,” he started again. “I never won against you.”


“So…” he said, drawing your body closer to him. “I still can’t let you go,” he whispered into your ear.


     “Hurry up! Run!”

     Dean’s voice was deep and muffled as rain poured down around you, drowning out his words and blurring your vision. Water flung up and hit your legs with every step in the small lake forming under your feet. When you finally made it to your motel Dean ran ahead and unlocked the door, reaching a hand out and pulling you into the room the second it swung open.

     Everything suddenly became quiet as the door was slammed shut and the rain was locked outside along with it’s accompanying noise. You looked up and caught Dean’s gaze, taking in the hair plastered to his forehead and shirt clinging to his skin. And then you started laughing.

     “Why the hell did we decide to walk to the diner?” you asked, grinning stupidly at the soaking wet mountain of plaid in front of you.

     “Oh, don’t say ‘we’,” Dean said accusingly, pointing a finger in your direction. “This was your dumb idea.”

     You merely shrugged. “It was a nice day! It seemed like a good idea at the time.”

     Dean shrugged out of his wet plaid and threw the balled-up fabric on the motel room’s two-person table. “Oh yeah, that was a great call,” he deadpanned.

     You flashed Dean an innocent smile and his already poorly-crafted façade started to crumble, the corners of his mouth turning up in place of his faux glare. Dean simply shook his head with an easy smile and bent over to pull something from his bag. Then he straightened and threw a plaid shirt in your direction.

     “Put that on,” Dean said abruptly, already pulling off his own white undershirt to make way for the dry option he’d grabbed for himself.

     Your cheeks turned red at the sight.

     “I … but … are you sure?” you stuttered. The easy feeling you’d had only moments ago disappeared at the thought of wearing Dean’s clothes. It wasn’t a bad feeling, but … it was a different one. A good different. It felt personal somehow. Intimate.

    Which was silly, because it was just a shirt.

     Just a shirt lent to you in a moment of need, as your current clothing was soaking wet and your duffle bag was several doors down in your own room, accessible only through the rain and wind outside.


     Your eyes snapped up as Dean’s voice pulled you back to the real world. “Yeah?”

     “I said yes, I’m sure. Now hurry up and get those wet clothes off before you start shivering.”

     You nodded numbly and reached for the top button of your shirt, Dean quickly turning around to give you some privacy, ever the gentlemen.

    By the time you’d pulled on the soft shirt, material warm and comforting against your skin, Dean had turned back around. And then he froze.

     He looked you over with glassy eyes, mouth hanging open slightly, gaze catching on the low neckline that wasn’t buttoned up all the way. But just as quickly as he’d paused, he shook his head and regained his composure in typical Dean Winchester fashion.

     He strutted forward and winked, letting his gaze stall only once more.

     “It looks better on you anyway.”

*These gifs are not mine, both the gifs are from Google Images*


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Keep reading

anonymous asked:

Maybe 29 or 30!!

anon: 29!!

i took these two requests and merged them together! hope you both enjoy :-) 💝

29. “Come over here and make me.”

30. “You better watch yourself.”

Games with Harry are fun, Y/N will admit.

He’s ace at Scrabble, a great opponent at Monopoly and surprisingly incredible at Twister, considering he’s such a clumsy dolt (she credits his success to his lanky limbs).

But there is one game in particular that is Y/N’s favorite to play with Harry because she knows she always has a fighting chance of winning: their sex withdrawal game.

She doesn’t know if it’s necessarily a game– a bet is more like it. The rules are fairly simple: No sex for an agreed amount of time and the person that caves first has to do all of the dishes for a week. Kissing and canoodling is allowed, but they can’t touch each other anywhere between the legs. Breaking that guideline accounts for immediate forfeit. Plain and simple.

It’s Harry’s favorite game as well and ever since he got off on a small break from promo, a couple of weeks before the movie comes out, he’s been itching to get home to start a round of it with Y/N. With everything that has been happening in the past couple of months, they hadn’t done it in a while and he thinks it’s about time they go head-to-head once again (pun intended).

Keep reading

So, that first episode, huh? With the kidnapping an old man, and the not bothering to call an ambulance when he has a heart attack, and the ripping his prized possession in half right in front of him, and the challenging his panicked and crying grandson to a card game for no reason, and the general mweh heh heh-ing and villain vibes…it feels pretty damn out of left field compared with the sympathetic anti-hero characterization that the show goes with for the entire rest of the series.

And sure, the simple explanation is that the writers tried to cram two manga arcs into 20 minutes while cutting the actual plot and all the explicitly axe-murdery bits and then skipping directly to his lighter and softer post-coma personality, so of course the result was a nonsensical mess. But is there any way to reconcile Pilot Kaiba with rest-of-the-series Kaiba?

Maybe the key is his lack of pupils. 

No, seriously.

Keep reading

Hey, before you go to sleep try to tell yourself one positive thing! 

Doesn’t matter how small it is, doesn’t matter if it’s “that cookie I had earlier was really nice” or “the sky was really pretty today” just try to think one happy thought. It’ll make a difference if you end your day on a slightly higher note than it was a minute ago :)

Phone Number? [Shin Wonho] M


2.8k words


~ Mature

~ Daddy kink (slight)

It all started late at night. You had just lost your job to the boss’s daughter and your best friend to his girlfriend, so you stopped by a bar to lose yourself. You decided you deserved to be treated though, so you went to the most expensive bar in Gangnam, with topshelf liquor. You weren’t entirely sure if even Patrón was going to be enough for you tonight. You could handle losing your job, but Kihyun had been your life for years. Your feelings for him slowly built until they were shattered by his girlfriend two years ago. You vowed to never let him know about your feelings because of how happy he was with her. It was so beautiful to see him smiling all the time, even if it wasn’t because of you.

You found yourself walking into the classy building, surprisingly vacant of customers. The bar had comfy looking chairs lining it, and the tables surrounding the area had chairs made of mahogany. The entire place had a sexy aura to it, arousing an uncomfortable feeling in the pit of your stomach.

You sat yourself at the bar and let your hair down, eliciting a glance from the previously busy bartender.

“Can I get a pineapple cocktail, two shots of Silver Patrón?” You asked the him and he nodded his head.

“That’s a lot of Patrón for a little lady like you, something bad happen?” His lips formed ugly little words in a beautiful way. You noticed, upon studying him a bit, that he looked simply delectable. His broad shoulders had his black button-up pulled taut, and it seemed as though his arms were going to burst out of the rolled up sleeves any minute. He sported black hair with subtle blue highlights, and it was slicked back in a way that made me want to run my hands through it and mess it up.

“Heh, you okay ma’am?” His lips pulled into a knowing smirk, “You’re about to start drooling.”

“Huh?” I snapped out of my trance and something came over me, a feeling of pure desire. “Oh, yeah, I’m fine, I just don’t run into bartenders this sexy very often,” I said as my voice became as sultry as ever.

“Well today’s your lucky day then, I’m here all night,” He said with an indistinguishable look in his eyes.

His smirk was playing games with your sanity, making you think things you hadn’t had time to think of before. There was something wild about him. Something more than a man who cleaned glasses and made drinks for a living.

“I guess I came to the right place then, Lord knows I need something good today.”

“Oh, well back to my previous question, something wrong?” He handed you your drink with a coaster under it and leaned on the bar in front of you, bringing him to eye level.

You thought about your day and decided to tell him what happened, why the hell not?

“Eh, it’s really nothing much, but I lost my job to the boss’s daughter,” you sipped on your cocktail and relished in the burning of the tequila on your throat before continuing, “and my best friend was given an ultimatum by his girlfriend to choose between us. He chose her.”

“Tough luck,” his features showed sympathy, “but at least you’ve got the sexiest bartender in Korea to listen to you.”

“Hah!” You chuckled, “I guess you’re right.”

When he heard your response he stood straight up with his brows furrowed, “You guess? Have you seen me?”

Devious little thoughts crossed your mind, little things to say to him, but you chose the one that would give you the most benefit.

“Well of course I have, but there are improvements that could be made,” You said while biting your lip.

“Oh yeah? Like what?” He leaned in closer to you and you felt your breath catch in your throat.

“Well, you look like a bit of a prude with your shirt buttoned all the way up,” You took your hand to his collar and started playing with the buttons, “maybe if you did this it would look a little better?” You said as your fingers undid the first button on his shirt. “Hm, one or two more maybe?” Your fingers were working on their own now, undoing the next two buttons to reveal a peek of his chest.

“Well, I’m sure you’re right, I must look even sexier like this.” His low voice seemed to turn a little bit husky as your hand brushed his chest on its way down to the table top.

The flirting seemed to continue forever and you had consumed three drinks by the time the bar was supposed to be closing.

“Hey, mind if I ask your name, bartender?” Your mind was fuzzy but your speech wasn’t slurred yet and you felt fine to stand and lean over the bar.

“It’s Hoseok, you?” He leaned close to you and you just wanted to thread your fingers through his hair and pull him even closer until your lips were crashing into each other.

“I’m Y/N, and I’m also drunk and need a ride home. Are you willing?” You let your hand rest on his bicep and traced ghost circles.

The look that crossed his face could only be described as hunger, and something inside you loved that you had evoked it.

“Yeah, I can give you a ride home, as long as you give me your number,” He bit his lip and stood up.

“Deal, give me a pen and a napkin,” You felt yourself getting excited for the rest of the night, even though there were no plans you had a feeling something would happen.

Hoseok turned around to grab a pen, but the alcohol hit you all at once and you felt your vision blurring and knees buckling, until everything suddenly went black. So much for letting loose tonight.


When you came to, you found yourself in bed with ten pillows and a blanket wrapped firmly around you. You sat up and realized it was a bad idea once the sun’s rays hit your eyes from the window.

“I don’t remember having that window… What happened to my house?” You thought to yourself with squinted eyes as you rose out of bed to find your clothes on the floor next to the nightstand. Panic overwhelmed you and you looked down at yourself to find you still had your underwear on at least.

Your eyes, more alert now, scanned the room, looking for clues. There was nothing until you saw a lump in the bed next to where you were sleeping.

“My mother… she would be so disappointed in me…” You thought as you hit your head.

Your thoughts jumbled into one big mess and you crawled onto the bed to peek under the covers at the lump. You saw a head of beautifully messy black hair, followed by a toned back and a nice ass in black boxers.

“Oh my God!” You shouted and fell off the bed with a huge thud that hurt your tailbone.

The man jumped out of bed with the laziest look of fear on his face, “Huh? Oh shit, are you okay?”

“I, uh, I don’t know. Most prominently my ass hurts, followed by my head, but that’s not the point!” You searched your head for memories from yesterday and remembered a few things. Things like being thrown away by work, your best friend, and then going to the bar and meeting one sexy bartender.

“Well get back on the bed,” He said as he held his hand out to you. You took it and took the chance to study his face, but low and behold there wasn’t much to study. You had studied him very well last night while you were drinking.

A blush powdered your cheeks as you said thanks and covered your scantily clad body, “Uh, thanks.”

“Do you remember last night?” He looked at you while running a hand through his hair and you noticed all the veins in his arm were popping.

“Uhm, yes, and I’m sorry, I’m not usually so straightforward. Did we do anything once we got here?”

“Heh,” he laughed, “no, you were mumbling about how horrible your day had been and how it was such a blessing you met me, then you K.O’ed. I had to undress you myself.” Hoseok smirked. “Nice tattoo by the way.” He was referring to the lacy design you had gotten under your boobs and on your abdomen.

“Oh, uh thanks, I got it to feel sexier. Guess it worked last night, huh?” I giggled nervously and lowered my head.

“Hey, you don’t need a tattoo to feel sexy, you’re the sexiest women I’ve seen.” He lifted your chin to look you in the eye. “Though, the tattoo does certainly add to it.”

You could feel heat spreading everywhere throughout your body, something new. You liked this feeling, feeling sexy. Hoseok aroused this new feeling in you, and damn it you just wanted him to put you on your knees.

His hand that had been on your chin worked it’s way around to the back of your head where he took a handful of your hair and pulled you closer.

“Do you mind? If I give myself what I’ve been waiting for all night?” His voice seemed even lower now, becoming a growl.

Something inside you took over and you straddled his lap, taking fistfuls of his hair and you brought yourself even closer to him. So close that your lips brushed his when you said, “Take me.”

His other arm wrapped around your waist the second you said it and pulled you so close that your bodies became one. His lips crashed into your’s furiously, as though he wanted to take your mouth for his own. Beneath you, you could feel him growing harder and you decided to take advantage of it by rocking your hips just slightly to cause him to moan.

“Oh no you don’t, you’re mine,” He snarled into your ear before flipping you on your back and climbing over your body. “I’m going to make you shake, so you just lay there and take what I give you. Understand babygirl?”

“Y-yes,” Nothing much had even happened and you were already this breathless.

He lowered his head to your neck and started nipping his way to your collarbone before going back up to kiss the sensitive areas better. He had you writhing in anticipation already, wanting more friction on every part of you. Hoseok snaked his arm around your back and unclasped your bra, sliding it down your arms and tossing it somewhere unknown while taking your peak into his mouth, working wonders with just his tongue. He took your other nipple and toyed with it until your hands threaded into his hair and your back arched. You were aching for more and the moans leaving your moths weren’t enough to tell him that.

“What is it princess, what do you want?” He smirked at you while letting his hands caress your sides and latch onto your hips.

“I-,” you knew what you wanted but your words were failing you. You had to find some way to tell him, so you grabbed one of his hands and started sucking on two of his fingers, eliciting a few guttural groans from his lips.

“I want more,” You said once you gained some control back.

“Hm, more…” He smirked that smirk you knew so well by now. “Well how much more?” He slid your panties to the side and just barely brushed your clit. “This much? Or this much?” Hoseok whispered into your ear as he shoved his fingers inside you and pumped relentlessly. You didn’t think your back could rise off the bed anymore, but it did and at that angle he was hitting all the right places.

“Or this much more?” He snarled as he slid down your body and found himself in between your legs in a mere instant. He pulled off your panties in one swift movement before diving right in and eating you like dessert. He took your clit into his mouth and made little figure eights with his tongue to make you moan his name. Finally, he added his fingers into the mix, entering you again just as strong as before. You could feel the coil in your stomach tightening and your moans grew louder before you started shaking. You had never been this sensitive before and no one had ever gotten you to such a high peak.

Hoseok finished you off by sucking on your clit and yet again increasing the speed of his fingers to a blinding pace. You lost all control of your body and started shaking as you screamed his name. He slowed down just a little to let you ride out this new level of heaven before bringing you back down to him by crawling back up your body and nibbling on your ear.

“See princess, I told you I’d make you shake,” Hoseok whispered to you before kissing you softly. “Are you okay?”

“Yes,” you panted, “yes I’m okay, please give me more… Daddy,” You looked to him with your eyes half closed, looking you see what he thought but you couldn’t see him for long before he crushed your lips with his. You got remnant tastes of yourself once you opened your mouths and allowed your tongues to dance together.

“You’re learning well babygirl, I’ll give you what you want,” He was panting as he slid off his boxers to reveal his throbbing cock, and you couldn’t believe how big he was. You had been with decently sized guys but he looked the biggest.

Hoseok positioned himself in between your legs, guiding his tip in before slowly going all the way to the hilt. He buried his head in the crook of your neck and let out obscenities before composing himself. The way he looked you in the eye to see if you were okay only made you want more. You could feel him inside you and you loved it but you wanted to know how good he felt slamming into you as fast as he could.

Hoseok started kissing you softly and thrusting in and out, picking up speed as he went. He made you feel like you weren’t on this planet anymore, you only knew of pleasure when you were with him.

“Fuck princess, you’re so tight,” His voice was getting louder by the second, and then he stopped. “Are you okay with doggy style?”

“Mhm,” You nodded, letting yourself be flipped over and put on your hands and knees in one fell swoop. Then he entered you again, from behind this time and he reached new places, places that had you screaming his name over and over.

“Please, harder Daddy, I’m almost there…” You moaned as he took a handful of your hair and pulled your head back.

“Fuck, more? Are you going to be okay?”

“Yes, yes, please fuck me harder,” You were both out of breath but Hoseok picked up speed and for the second time you started shaking. Your arms collapsed and you rode out this feeling of pure ecstasy while Hoseok took time to reach his high.

“Damn babygirl, can I cum inside?” He asked as he gripped your hips even harder and slammed into you a few last times while you nodded. He pumped one last time before spilling himself inside you.

You both fell to the bed and tried to catch your breath and wrap your minds around what just happened.

“Oh my God,” You panted, your mind thoroughly blown.

“Holy shit,” Hoseok muttered, wiping off his forehead. “Are you okay?”

“Do you know how many times you’ve asked me that? I’m fine, better than fine, I’m amazing.”

“Well I know I can be too much for some girls so, I don’t know, I guess it’s become habit.”

“Well that was fantastic, I’ve never been with anyone like you.”

“Same goes for you, shit that was good.” He looked at you while biting his lip. “You know, you still owe me your phone number.”

A puzzled look crossed your face, “But we fucked? It’s a one night stand, am I wrong?”

“Yeah, you are, I don’t do one night stands.” He looked at you softly, “Though next time we meet I’d like to take you out for dinner and get to know more about you as a person?” Hoseok blushed a little sheepishly.

“Oh uh, yeah, o-of course!” You smiled as you laid your head on his shoulder, “Mind if we nap though? I’m exhausted.”

“I think that’s a good idea,” He said as he pulled you into his arms and drifted off slowly.

Space Cowboys and Walkmans (StarkQuill)

“So look, if you push this button here, it locks your screen so you dont accidentally hit anything while you’re out doing… whatever it is you do.”

“While I’m out guarding the galaxy.”

Tony’s lips twitched into a smile. “Sure, Star Lord. While you are out guarding the galaxy.”

“Do I detect some jealousy?”

“Definitely.” Tony shook his head with a little smile. “Space terrifies me. Want to be a spaceman, stuck on earth being a cowboy.

“Cowboys are cool.” Peter shrugged. “Besides, no need to worry about space when I’ll keep you warm and safe.” Peter winked at him and Tony looked away, flushing a little.

“Anyway, this little button here will keep your song playing steadily no matter what you’re doing.”

“You know, my Walkman did that too? No fancy technology required.” Peter argued, then he looked sad. “Miss my Walkman.”

Tony stared at him for a full minute. “So you aren’t grateful for this insanely expensive Stark Phone that I personally loaded over a thousand songs that I thought you would enjoy onto it? Is that what I’m hearing right now?”

“No.” Peter tried not to laugh at the horribly offended look on Tony’s face. “No. I appreciate it. It’s amazing.”

“But you miss your piece of shit Walkman.”

“Nostalgia man!” Peter argued. “Aren’t you nostalgic about anything?”

“Suck it, Space man.” Tony huffed and gathered up everything he’d brought to show off and turned and stomped out of the room.

“Nice goin.” Rocket snarked, baring his pointy teeth in a little smile. “Richest, most powerful guy on earth and you insult him when he gives you a present. Smart, StarTwat. Smart.”

“It is not Peter’s fault he is so foolishly attached to items from his childhood that he pushes away all attempts from the Iron Man to give him new things.” Drax interjected. “Just because it is stupid does not mean he doesn’t have the right to be nostalgic.”

“Um, thanks.” Peter sent Drax a look, knowing the guy was just trying to be comforting in that awkward, over literal, blunt way of his.

“I think you should stop flirting with him, and just get our gear fixed so we can leave.” Gamora said shortly, barely looking up from her book.

“I am Groot?”

“Tell me about it.” Rocket narrowed his eyes at the green woman. “Don’t be a hypocrite, Gamora. We all saw you flirting with that scary redhead. Don’t be mad at Peter for chasing some tail.”

“I am Groot.”

“No. No that’s not what chasing tail– I don’t mean Peter literally has a tail to chase.”

“I am–”

“That’s enough.” Peter sighed and ran his hands through his hair miserably. “I hope Stark isn’t too upset. We were having a good time.”

“And you think he is attractive and want to see him naked.” Drax pointed out.

“Thanks buddy.”

“As long as he keeps fixing our gear, I don’t care what you and he do. Just don’t do it here.”

“Thanks for that Gamora. You know, there are two types of people in this world. People who–”

The woman got up and walked out of the room and Peter stared after her.

“That was rude. Wasn’t that rude?”

“I am Groot.”

“Yeah, I’m tired of hearing him bitch too. Let’s go twig.” The rest of the team filed out, leaving Peter alone on the couch, kicking himself for driving the brilliant hottie known as Tony Stark away.

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After Party - Seth Rollins x Reader

Summary:- You go out for a few drinks after Wrestlemania with Seth, Renee, and Dean. After a drunk guy gets far too flirty in the bar, Seth takes you back to the hotel, and reminds you who you belong to. 

Warnings:-Smut, Swearing, Daddy Kink

Word Count:-1,399


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