god his back and his hip chain

Just Happened To Be (6)

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.

Part One /  Part Two / Part Three / Part Four / Part Five / Part Seven

To say that Yoorin was positively livid when she stepped through the front door was the understatement of the century. The only person managing to keep the woman from roundhousing Jimin in the face was Hoseok; to be fair, he wasn’t doing much to calm the situation seeing as he was being forcibly dragged by the enraged female. Hell, Yoorin looked like she could peel paint off the walls with just the force of her aura–like if she touched the ocean sharks would float dead to the surface. For a minute, Jimin thought that your best friend was capable of splitting the earth beneath his feet.

To further bury himself, Jimin made the unfortunate mistake of meeting her gaze when she entered.

“Where. Is. She?” Her voice stirred some deep, primitive fear in the depths of his chest.

Jimin’s hands stuttered as he stirred a pot of noodles on the stovetop. “She fell asleep, so I put her in her bed.” He swallowed at the stove. “I wanted to see if she would be able to keep down some food.”

Yoorin didn’t say another word to him; instead she tore down the hallway towards your bedroom–leaving Jimin and Hoseok alone in her wake.

Hoseok paused, his hands still frozen on the strap of his bag. “How are you holding up?”

“I’m fine–she’s the one that–”

“You know that’s not what I mean.”

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Nobody (Part 8)

Plot:  Reader has been held prisoner by Hydra and is discovered by Nat and Bucky.  Post CA:CW (Bucky’s on the team, no one hates each other) Slight AU

Warnings: Cursing only…I think.

Words: 3115

A/N: This part might be shit.  I’m not happy with my writing style and am researching on how to improve so please bear with me. And I feel like I lost my touch…the first parts were far better…

italics = reader’s thoughts

Reader’s POV

A wave of tranquillity passed over you as you realised that you must be, once again, back in the void.  The void wasn’t such a terrible place.  You just hated how you got here.  It normally involved agonizing pain and paralyzing horror in order to get into the void.  It was just dark and quiet, nobody lived here.  Nobody hurt you here.  Nothing hurt here, where ever here is; you wished you could stay forever.  

Though, something was different this time.  It wasn’t as black and silent as it usually was.  There was a soft humming and an occasional unfamiliar beep; someone had turned the noise back on.  And the darkness was slowly washing away, like a receding ocean tide.  Don’t go.

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anonymous asked:

LISTEN Harry using those Gucci handcuffs on you I need more pls Andrea I beg


He has you laid out on the in one of his silk Gucci shirts, unbuttoned to expose your chest and he’s biting down your neck and straddling your hips, pulling the cuffs out of a fancy velvet bag.

“God, this is so fucking hot,” he murmurs lowly as he cranks the cuffs to a close, eyeing the brand name chiseled into the expensive metal, loving the way it glints under the dim lighting. “Matching all over, pet.”

And then he pulls out his phone, snapping quick pictures of you at different angles, making sure to get the cuffs in, moaning shakily at the way you grip the excess chain link and arch your back upwards. He feels your hips pressing up against his thighs and nearly busts, the images he’s capturing making his lips water. “These are gonna come in handy on tour.”

Harry puts down his phone, brushing aside the fine material of the flowy shirt you’re wearing, exposing your left nipple so he can gift it a rough suck. “Get it? ‘Handy?’ As in jacking off?”

“Just shut up and fuck me.”

What are these feelings? pt 1

So, this was a request and I decided to do two or thee parts for it so here’s part 1

Request: Can you do joker x reader imagine where reader is just an ordinary girl, being kidnapped by the joker. He first tortured her first but then started to fall in love with her and she started to felt the same. And the feelings both of them have are getting harder and harder to hind?


“Ahh finally,” I stretch out as I stand up. Spring semester is out and I couldn’t be happier. I gather my things and start to walk home; it’s so nice out today.

I see a road block up ahead and tilt my head curiously. Probably a robbery, that’s the only reason I hate walking home, I live in the middle of downtown Gotham. Tires screech from behind me, I spin around to see what’s going on, someone grabs me and covers my mouth as they drag me into a black van.

They release me and one of them points a gun at my head.

“Make a sound and I will kill you.” one says. My eyes widen when I see who is in the passenger seat. Holy fuck.. The Joker.. well I guess that explains the road block.

I hug myself to prevent from freaking out. ‘This can’t be happening..’ I think to myself.

The drive is long and terrifying; we’re brought to a luxurious building and go into the underground parking lot. Joker gets out first and walks towards a door which I am assuming is the entrance, one of the men in the back grabs my arm roughly and yanks me out of the car.

I am taken to the penthouse suit and thrown into a dark room. I hear laughing coming from another room. Jackass. What the hell does he want from me? The lights are turned on and I am mortified. The room is painted purple with “HAHA” painted in green everywhere. There’s chains attached to the walls and various torture instruments on a table.

I scream as one of Jokers men drags me kicking and screaming to the wall with the chains. He puts a chain collar around my neck and wrists then leaves. I struggle against my bindings but to no avail. I’m so screwed.

Joker walks in and looks at me like a wolf looks at its prey.

“What do you want from me you psychotic clown!?” I scream at him.

He laughs and walks to me, grabbing my jaw to force me to look at him. “Oh you’re feisty, we’re gonna have so much fun together,” he growls.

I shake my head free from his grip and bite his tattooed hand. “Don’t touch me!” I snap. He grabs me by my hair and pulls my head back. I let out a short grunt from the pain.

“That wasn’t very nice doll. Daddy’s gonna have to punish you,” he grins.

“Daddy kink? Um, no.” I roll my eyes at him.

“Haha, you’ll call me daddy, trust me doll,” he laughs.

“I’m not your doll.” I snap.

His smile fades from his face and my body starts to tremble under his terrifying gaze. I watch him as he goes over to his little table of torture instruments. He picks up a purple knife with a green blade and comes back to me. I gasp as he flicks the switchblade open in front of me.

I inhale sharply as he slides the blade under the bottom of my shirt. I strain against the chains, trying to pull free, however all I accomplish is bruising my wrists.

“Don’t move doll, you don’t want Daddy to accidentally cut that pretty, pretty skin do ya?” he laughs and pulls up, the blade slicing through my favorite black shirt, he cuts at the sleeves, lightly nicking my arm, and grins as my shirt falls down to the ground in a heap of scraps.

I wince as a drop of blood runs down my arm. “Oops,” he chuckles. He slides the knife under the front of my bra and jerks his wrist, the knife slicing through the lace material; he then does the same to the straps on my shoulders. My bra falls to the floor and I look away as he stares at my exposed chest. He purrs softly and runs his icy fingers over my naked breasts. I whimper softly and look up at him with pleading eyes.

“Please.. Please stop.” I beg, tears forming in my eyes. A smile spreads across his face and he wraps his fingers around my throat, his thumbs under my chin pushing up.

“God, you’re so.. Good!” he grins. He laughs and kneels down. He cuffs my ankles to the wall then moves up to my torso, he reaches behind me and pulls out another chain, wrapping it around my waist and latching it in the back. He looks up at me and smiles, “Don’t move.” He purrs.

He softly runs the blade up my thigh to my hip. He grabs the waistband of my jeans and tugs them down slightly. He then places a soft kiss on my hip bone before he pushes on my stomach, I gasp softly as my back hits the cold wall. He smirks and digs the knife into the soft flesh of my hip. I bite my lip to prevent screaming; Joker looks up at me unamused and presses the knife deeper, this time I actually scream. He smiles and continues to cut into my skin, the pain is agonizing and I try not to move in fear of what he’ll do if I squirm.

My screams and his laughs fill the room, he finally finishes his masterpiece and my legs feel like jelly, I can feel blood trickling out of my wound and seeping into my jeans. My knees give out and I’m hanging by my restrained wrists, it hurts but not as bad as the pain he just caused me.

“Oh baby, we’re not done yet.” He pulls my hair, forcing me to look at him, he has a devious grin crossing his face. He lets go and my head drops back down, I don’t have any energy to fight. I hear him walk back to the table, small sounds of metal clinking against the table as he picks up objects and sets them back down. He comes back and stands in front of my limp body hanging by the chains. I feel a sharp prick in my left arm and my heart starts pounding in my chest.

“Adrenaline. Daddy wants his doll to enjoy herself. It’d be terrible manners to fall asleep during playtime.” He chuckles softly. My eyes widen when I notice what he is holding. It looks like a fucking cattle prod!

“Now, I’m going to ask you a few things and if I like your answer I won’t hurt you, if I don’t like your answer or if I just get bored,” he presses a button and a loud crackle resonates through the room from the electrocuting torture device he’s holding. “First, who am I?” he asks.

“Joker.” I say flatly. He growls and pushes the button again and presses the metal against my side. Electricity surges through my body and I clench my teeth.

“Who am I?” he asks again.

I breathe hard and shake my head, “A psychotic, demented, narcissistic clown.” I snap. This time he presses the rod under my left breast; I let out a small scream and pull against the chains.

“One more time.” He snarls.

I lift my head and look him in the windows of his soul, and I said, “Bitch.”

He obviously doesn’t like that answer, he grabs my hair and pulls my head back. I feel the metal press against the side of my neck and fear washes over me. “Care to say that again? I couldn’t hear ya,” he whispers.

“D-Daddy.. please, don’t..” I concede. He lets go of my hair and moves the rod away from my neck.

“Good girl.” He grins. “Eh what the hell.” He presses it to my neck and hits the button, I scream through clenched teeth as my muscles spasm. He takes it away and drops it to the floor, he’s breathing heavily and looking at me like a wolf that’s about to devour its dinner.

“Bastard.” I whisper under my breath. He growls and grabs my face.

“Watch it,” he snaps and releases my face. He leaves the room and one of his men returns; they unchain me and drag my body to a large wire cage with a pillow and a small blanket inside.

He puts me in and locks the cage with a rather large padlock. I feel exhaustion wash over me and I fall asleep.

The Alchemist of a Thousand Eyes. || iwaoi. fma crossover.

The darkness around him is four weeks old. They give him food and water, pull the chains around his ankles and wrists so tight that his skin bleeds underneath the fur. Every day, a man with yellow eyes visits him. He touches Hajime’s forehead, and a searing pain twitches through his head. He knows what this is, and when a cruel, sharp mind pierces into his own thoughts, he screams for help, begs, promises anything and everything. Help me, God, please. 

“He’s still human, in there,” the man says one day. Hajime whimpers. Finally, he’s heard him. The guard standing outside the cell smiles; he’s all ink-black hair that sticks into the shadow above his head in the light of the lantern. Both wear the badge of a state alchemist. They’ll help him, right? The man with the yellow eyes - he looks like a cat, Hajime thinks, licking his mouth in the hope of more water - steps out of his prison cell. He’s quiet for a long time. 

Then, he turns to the guard. “Kuroo, we need him. This could be it. Tell him that we got a chimera that’s been made by his old teacher.” And before Hajime can even open his jaws in an attempt to growl out words, the lantern goes out and darkness engulfs him yet again. 

In the three hours that pass, he lives through everything all over again. The man luring him into a house in the forest with a promise for food and money; Hajime’s stomach growling, the hunger in his chest, he hadn’t eaten since his village had burnt down in the war. Everyone dead, dead, dead, corpses in the wet, red darkness of the ruins, lingering, watching him. The man had taken him in. And when Hajime woke, he’d been in chains, and his mind had howled at the sight of his body, transformed, bleeding and there were claws, teeth, fur - 

“Is that him, sweetheart?” - “Do not call me that. Yes. We think the body’s a bear, the horns seem to be from a bull or something. Excellent nose from a dog. He’s got some humanity left in his head, so we didn’t cut him open to see if - “ 

“God, he’s… yeah, he’ll do. Let me in.” A soft chuckle. “Finally.”

Hajime barely hears the voices whispering around him. The cell door creaks, light casts over his face. He blinks, chains rattling, a growl in his chest, and then there’s a man standing before him. His eyes are dark, a glint of fire sparking in them as he leans down to touch Hajime’s nose. 

“Hello, sweetheart,” the man says. “My, what did this monster do to you, hm? You can tell me later. First, I’ll get you your voice back.” Hajime’s eyes go wide. He roars, struggles against the chains, and the man raises a hand to hold the guards back from storming into the cell. 

“Relax. This’ll only hurt a bit. I cannot turn you back into who you were. But we’ll make a deal.” Hajime hears a metallic sound. The man pushes up his sleeves, the state alchemist’s watch dangling on his hip. And then, Hajime sees his skin, and he whimpers in sheer horror. Oh God. 

“You see,” the man smiles, smiles, his lean arm flexing in the lantern’s light. His skin is covered in human eyes. Their lids open to stare at Hajime, life pulsing inside them, pupils wide in silent terror. And when a hand grips his throat and the blue light of transmutation twitches through the cell, he hears the man say: 

“The man who did this to you is the same who did this to me. I’ll give you back your voice, sweetheart, for a few of my eyes. And in exchange you’ll lend me your nose to find the man who made me the Alchemist of a Thousand Eyes.” 

When the blue lightning dies, Hajime’s throat burns like hell. The man stands and turns to leave, pushing his sleeve back down. Hajime gets up and follows him, not paying any attention to Kuroo or the yellow-eyed alchemist. 

“Who are you?” 

The man looks at him over his shoulder. His collar slides down a bit, and a row of tiny, sad children’s eyes stares at Hajime from the alchemist’s neck. The smile on his lips is dangerous, sharp enough to cut. “I’m Tooru Oikawa. You coming?”

And Hajime follows him. 

Stolen Moments

Post 3x22. Captain Swan just want a few private moments to themselves, but Storybrooke has other plans. A wee bit o’ smut ;)


            It was all very covert. Meeting at night, the only light coming from the moon and a lone streetlamp flickering near the alley. He cautiously approached the yellow vehicle, eyes glancing up and down the street for danger, not knowing what to expect after her vague and urgent request for them to meet. He tapped lightly on the window, noting her nod of assent before climbing quickly into the passenger seat.

            “Swan?” He greeted her questioningly, seeing only the outline of her face in the dark confines of the vehicle.

            “Did you come alone?” She responded while searching over him through every window.

            “With whom else would I be?” This was all so cryptic; he was starting to get nervous.

            Seemingly satisfied with his response, Emma let out a small sigh. A moment later she was on his lap, a flash of red leather flying to the backseat in the process.  Warm hands gripped his hair while her lips came crashing down on his, moving frantically against his stunned mouth. It took a second for him to respond, surprised by her sudden action, but then he was matching her move for move with equal force. Her hands moved down his chest to attend to the buttons on his shirt, his mouth trailing down her neck to nip lightly at her pulse point. Letting out a small gasp at his ministrations, Emma leaned back to allow him better access to the sensitive spot along her collarbone.

            “Swan,” kiss, “Not that I’m complaining,” kiss, “But what—?” Not letting him finish his thought, she tugged on the chains around his neck, roughly pulling his lips back up to hers.

            “God, Killian, I’ve missed you,” she moaned, trailing her mouth across his jaw line before tugging gently on his earlobe.

            The groan that followed only encouraged her more, her actions becoming more frantic as her hands pulled his shirt up from out of his pants, fingernails grazing along the lean muscles of his abdomen.

            “Emma,” he moaned, “Love, you have no idea. These weeks have been hell.” His own hand gripped her hip as she ground her body against his in the small seat of the bug.

            Between sheriff responsibilities, town drama, and overbearing family members, the brief time they have shared together since returning from the past was guaranteed interruption, leaving them to savor private glances and brief touches until it finally became unbearable. Unable to find time to address their relationship and express the building emotions and physical desires growing rapidly within her, Emma felt she would combust.

            Her family was important and she took her responsibilities seriously, but Killian was important too, and the longer she was denied these moments with him, the more she needed them. The more she needed him.

            Right on cue, as her hands moved to the zipper on his jeans, about to provide them with the release they both desperately needed, her phone rang.

            “You’ve GOT to be kidding me!” Emma whined, slamming her head against Killian’s shoulder in defeat. Answering her phone with an impatient, “WHAT?!”, Emma immediately felt guilty while Killian chuckled at the timid response he heard from Mary Margaret.

            A few “Uh huh,” “Sure”, and “Yes” ‘s later, Emma hung up her phone and with a painful look towards Killian, explained to him that they needed to run to the drugstore and pick up some baby Tylenol since Neal was running a fever. Killian shrugged and begrudgingly released Emma to crawl back to the driver’s side, but not before giving her one last long heated kiss.

            Smoothing down her mussed hair, she glanced back at her pirate with a sad smile while his spoke of understanding in return. He was a patient man, after all.


            Dinner at Granny’s was the same as always, but Emma could not quell the restlessness inside her. Killian’s leg was pressed far too closely to hers, his fingers dancing in a dangerous direction on her thigh beneath the table. She envied his ability to maintain a casual conversation with her parents while her mind was far too distracted to allow a single coherent thought to pass her lips. Luckily, Killian was able to deflect any conversational turn in her direction and was more than capable of keeping her family entertained while simultaneously entertaining her in a less appropriate way.

            Deciding to play his game, she let her hand move to his thigh, fingers tracing lightly over his hardness through his jeans. No one but her would have noticed the brief falter of his face, as he recovered quickly to continue discussing harbor management with her father. She felt like a teenager, a bit shocked at her own behavior at this moment, but desperate times called for desperate measures.

             In a quick motion, his hand found the spot where she most urgently desired friction, and she could not prevent the gasp that escaped her lips.

            “Emma?” Her mother asked, “You feeling ok? You’re awfully quiet tonight.”

            “I—I’m fine,” Emma stuttered, heat rising quickly to her face. “I just—I’ll be right back.” She spared Killian a quick glance before rising to leave the table.

            “I’ll go check on her,” Killian stood up to follow her as she rounded the corner to the back hallway.

            He caught up to her quickly, grabbing her forearm pulling her into the bathroom and had her pressed against the door a moment later. Immediately, her legs came up to wrap around his hips as he ground against her shamelessly.

            “That was very bad form, Captain,” she panted, the last syllable a squeal as he pressed against that perfect spot.

            “I guess there’s still some pirate in me, love,” He responded, biting her neck. She was too high on him at the moment to care that he probably left a mark. “I just can’t help myself when I see a treasure.”

            She moaned against him, wasting no time going straight to the button of his jeans as he palmed her breasts through her thin shirt. They were so lost in each other that she barely heard the knock against the door.

            “Killian?” Another knock. “You promised to finish your story…”

            This time Killian sighed in defeat, slamming his hook into the wall, something Granny was sure to nag him about later. “I’ll be right out, lad,” He managed to respond in a strangled voice, the woman in his arms equally as frustrated by her son’s untimely interruption as he was.

            Straightening their clothes, both of them had to chuckle at the typical direction their encounters have been taking before begrudgingly heading back to the booth and her family.


            Three more interrupted trysts later, Killian had had enough. Standing alone outside the sheriff’s station, innocently hoping for a chance to discuss whatever this relationship of theirs was, Killian and Emma were interrupted yet again, this time by a handful of disgruntled town residents running up to them with various complaints regarding the destruction caused post-Elsa.

            “Everyone STOP!” Killian yelled, throwing his hand and hook into the air and stepping protectively in front of Emma. The crowd quieted and took a cautious step backwards, as they no longer saw Killian Jones, but an angry Captain Hook.

            “This is bloody ridiculous! Let the savior breathe for just a moment. Your issues can wait 10 minutes!”

             “Twenty minutes,” Emma whispered behind him.

            “TWENTY minutes!” Killian continued before promptly pulling Emma against him in a breath-stopping kiss, Storybrooke residents be damned.

             A collective gasp later, the embarrassed crowd slowly disassembled, someone in the back yelling out, “I knew it!” before disappearing as well.

            The two lovers broke apart for a quick breath and a knowing smile before continuing their kiss, relieved to not be hiding for once. The moment was finally theirs…and promised to remain theirs for at least another 19 minutes.