summary: park jimin was famous for being a fratboy, a cutie with a booty, and for being a pain in the ass. yet, somehow, you still ended up in his bed.
genre/count: smut and fluff [ nc-17 ] | 7.8k words
a/n: i started writing this at work and enjoyed it way too much :’)
Jimin liked to think himself easygoing. He could sweet talk anyone, worm his way into people’s lives and fit himself all snug in their hearts. It was just a charm of his, he supposed. He wasn’t too judgmental or strict, liked to be the good cop to everyone’s bad cop (especially Yoongi in the frat).
But there was something about you that just irritated the fuck out of him. It wasn’t as if you were unpleasant, no. You were pleasant to everyone except him. You were always so effortlessly fucking gorgeous. You never looked snobby or pretentious and he would do you ten out of ten. So he wasn’t quite sure what it was that nagged at the back of his mind about you.
It was during one of his fraternity’s house parties, Hoseok’s this time because he had just gotten the opportunity to perform his choreography in the department’s annual showcase, hence making it a good cause to celebrate. Jimin had entered, tipsy from the pre-game at Taehyung’s place with a handful of new pledges and Taehyung had announced his entrance as he always did. “Your party god and savior, Kim Taehyung, is finally here!” A few of the guys who were all too familiar with his antics waved him off. Jimin just laughed.
It was a little over midnight when Jimin found the music a little too loud, so he staggered over to the kitchen in search of a glass of water to relieve the dryness in the back of his throat. He’s found a few potential girls he could hook up with tonight but none he was too interested in.
However, the sight of another figure halted his footsteps. You stood there nursing your own drink, clad in the shortest pair of leather shorts that curved around your ass nicely, a top that was tantalizing enough to have his dick twitching in his pants but elegant enough to keep it classy. Not to mention that choker that wrapped around your neck. Fuck. You were laughing with a new pledge from his frat and he could already tell that the kid was interested but he couldn’t help the asshole in him when it came to you.
I have gotten many asks for some Sara/Mila fics, and I couldn’t be more happy because I LOVE this ship! 💜 Enjoy!
flung out of space by rhapsodies, Teen, 4.3k Sara Crispino has purple eyes and a heart-shaped smile, and Mila is screwed right from the start. LOVE THIS!
shot down by heartsinhay, Teen, 4.7k Sara Crispino, thirstiest virgin in Barcelona, decides to get rejected by pretty much half the skating world. Mila Babicheva, nursing the world’s worst Straight Girl Crush in recent history, is just along for the ride. SO GOOD OMG
Blossoming by novocaine_sea, Explicit, 5.8k Sara’s finally free to date men and doesn’t know where to start. Mila shows her something better than what men have to offer. *fans self*
Morning Tonight by euseevius, Teen, 7k (WIP) Viktor Nikiforov and Mila Babicheva are the pair in figure skating, but only on the ice. Off it Mila is dating another skater - Sara Crispino, who is currently looking for a new pair after ditching her brother and moving to Russia. Enter Katsuki Yuuri, a 20-year-old self-described fuck up on the verge of quitting figure skating altogether. Bonus victuuri! I love this so far!
another girl in another time by cityboys, Gen, 11k According to the multi-verse theory, there is another Sara out there who has her life together. In this world, though, she’s just a high school senior with detention to attend, a prom to contemplate and a twin to reconcile with. Really cute, must read!
violet tulips by dydrmrnghtthnkr, Teen, 11k Mila meets Sara Crispino, and it’s the first time she’s ever wanted to befriend someone. Well developed story!
Take My Faith In Your Hands by Ren, Explicit, 1.6k “I thought you said we were just sleeping tonight,” Sara says, but she doesn’t swat Mila’s hand away. Her violet eyes crinkle at the corners as she smiles. ESTABLISHED RELATIONSHIP CAN YOU HEAR MY SCREAMS THIS IS GREAT
let’s freefall by celestialfics, Teen, 7.3k When Mila first sees Sara Crispino without her skates, she expects her to act akin to how she performs on the ice: sharp, calculated, beautiful, and ruthless. Only one of these things is true, but she’s somehow captivating in entirely different ways. Love the rival aspect!
Pairing: Arthur Ketch x Reader Word count: 884 Warnings: None Written for my 2,000 Followers Celebration Requested by:@mysaintsasinnerPrompt: Fireworks / Quote: “Only a fool would fall in love with someone as deadly as me”
Hello, my loves, when I have free time my mind travels fast, so I came up with another Eric Fanfic. I really hope you guys enjoy it !!!!
Also a big thanks to my lovely @singingpeople that helped me a lot !!!!! Thanks, sweetie, it meant the world to me ! 💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💞
The sizzling of your blood dropping onto the coals was all you could focus on during your choosing ceremony.
Was it the best decision for you? Have you gone crazy? You didn’t know what to think anymore. Standing in front of the bowls your mind reeled with so many impressions all around you but it was too late for regrets.
“Dauntless!” Marcus Eaton, the abnegation leader yelled trying to keep his face impassive.
Knowing you and your parents he looked at you, the despise clear for you to see in his eyes. The abnegation leader mustered you with the same look he had thrown his own daughter fifteen minutes before.
You grew up with Melanie Eaton, went to school with her and you two were as much of a friend, as an abnegation could be. You knew all about the abuse she had suffered along with her brother that defected two years’ prior than the both of you.
You´ve been raised as the perfect abnegation, always putting others first, always invisible as the grey of your clothes made you fade into the background. You were never the most beautiful girl in the room, in fact, no one ever looked at you, so over the time, you learned to just keep to yourself. Not even Mel could break the walls you had built around you.
Last night we were talking about all the other Earth-based SBURB sessions. Now, most of them were probably screwed from the start if they weren’t part of an ectobiological loop (unless there was a rash of meteor babies delivered in the 90s, which would be kind of funny) but we thought if any of the other sessions did get very far, they’d have to deal with a bunch of the same crap as the kids without any of the inside info. So this spiraled into imagining some sort of SBURB help forum with a bunch of questions and bug reports where an increasingly harried mod keeps going ‘it’s this ONE SESSION out there fucking everyone else up, I’m sorry’
‘There’s an unidentified object at the heart of my battlefield. No one mentioned this.’ ‘It seems to be corruption from our parent session #612a2. The players are still active but are only in communication with a four person session based in the US, #413b1. I’ll let you know if they ever start answering my PMs, but for now, here’s a link to a thread with people discussing fixes that worked for them.’
‘One of my timeloops should’ve been stable but now the whole timeline is flagged as doomed. Our Time player has checked everything but there’s no reason for it. HELP!!!’ There’s a rogue Time hero/boss local to the 612/413 session cluster. Most of the time he doesn’t affect us, but sometimes timeloops get snagged on his localized alpha. Destroy any of the following artifacts in your session, especially the puppet, and try again.’
‘CANCER UPDATE: The 612 data corruption manifests in an extremely aggressive archagent and a rapid onset Reckoning. Do not engage Jack Noir, and do not under any circumstances let him acquire a regent’s ring. We recommend you deploy Prospit dreamers to acquire the White King’s scepter and keep it safe to delay the Reckoning.’
‘There are red squiggly things in the sky. Is that bad??’ ‘Unfortunately session 413′s archagent got the black queen’s ring and is in the process of tearing all instances of our universe to shreds. I’d recommend you pick up the pace, because we’re now on a deadline courtesy of those fuckers.’
‘My dreamself died and usually I just have to deal with the horrorterrors but last time I fell asleep I was somewhere else, and there were a bunch of other people there. Is this a special level I unlocked?’ ‘Somehow the 612/413 cluster…broke… death??? I don’t fucking know. Avoid any gray skinned people you see - they tend to be hostile. [Blurry photo of Vriska.] DEFINITELY avoid this one.’
And eventually it just devolves into everyone complaining about those losers from 413 who keep ruining it for everyone and you get posts like ‘Apparently every planet gets one first guardian but GUESS WHO got Earth’s and PROTOTYPED it????’ and ‘There’s a cheat that lets you godmod the whole game and we’ve been looking for it for weeks but FUCKING SESSION 413′s Breath hero fell ass backwards into it on accident those fuckers’
The mod dreams of one day finding these people to scream at them in person
You know it’s probably against the rules to be doing this, maybe not exactly and Nelson and Murdock, but it’s kind of a guideline in every work environment to not get intimate with your boss at any level. It’s a small company though, the few people that work here are all friends so maybe this isn’t so bad. Besides you can’t really think of any reason not to be doing this. You’d been getting sick of the tension between you and Matt and this seemed like the best way to resolve it.
With his body pressing your firmly against the wall, your hands tangled in his hair and his glasses occasionally bumping into you, his tie askew and lips planted on yours, kissing you roughly.
This might be worth getting into trouble or being potentially chastised by Foggy, even though that’d make him a totally hypocrite. You know he and Karen have been screwing since you started here.
He pushes himself away from you when he hears the squeak of the door opening to their building and starts fixing himself up, you getting the message loud and clear.
As much as you hope that this isn’t just a one time thing, maybe it would be best if it just was.
“Let’s keep this between the two of us.” He says, tucking his dress shirt into his pants.
“Yeah.” You clear your throat, brushing your hands over your skirt and gathering the files that you’d left on Matt’s desk, hoping to look as normal as possible.
So many people have pointed out that everyone Gavin has had sex with has died and many suspect he’s the mole, and if that’s true he could have Michael helping him plan out the murders and Michael is happening to choose all the people Gavin’s screwing? Like possibly he’s super jealous and he’s been trying to screw Gavin from the start? In this latest episode we see that Michael does finally have sex with Gavin but yet he’s still upset that Gavin didn’t pay him much attention. It’s a big stretch but like there could be some serious Mavin going on in elr lol… But now poor Michael’s heart broken.
Can you write one where you get accepted into your dream college but
Harry is at the studio so you keep trying to text/call him all excited
but he never replies. Then when he gets home he’s mad and yells at you
for bothering him at work. Then he finds out why and feels terrible.
Happy fluffy ending please.
were shaking. You held a large, white envelope with your name on it and your
brain was running circles about what was potentially inside. The return address
was a University that you had spent years dreaming about. When you finally got
up the nerve to apply, you didn’t actually think you would get in. Harry had
assured you that there was no way they wouldn’t accept you; you had the grades
and the determination and the drive to do well in the program you chose. It was
going to be a lot of work and a lot of money, but the rewards would be great
when you were finished.
had talked yourself out of actually getting accepted the longer you waited for
the letter. But now it was in your hands and you had no way of knowing the
outcome until you opened it. You wished that Harry was there to do it for you,
but he was in studio all day and wouldn’t be home until late. You could just
wait until he got home, but you knew your curiosity would get the better of you
wasn’t thick. That was a bad sign, wasn’t it? You didn’t even know; the first
time you had gone to college it hadn’t included nearly as much fanfare as this
time around; your course had only been 8 months. This time you were committing
to the next four years of your life. Maybe it was supposed to be thin? Maybe
that’s all they needed to tell you that you had gotten in?
Or that you hadn’t.
take the suspense anymore. Slowly, you started to rip the top of the envelope
open, making sure to do it as neatly as possible. For some reason, your brain
was in the mindset of, “But what if you need to send that envelope back?”
out the single sheet of paper that was contained inside and started to read it,
your heart pounding.
Dear Ms. [Y/L/N],
It is our pleasure to inform you that you have been
accepted into [program].
The Winter Soldier watched as the car smashed into the trees, the alarm was shrill in his ears as he marched toward the smoking vehicle, his index finger pressing the side of his goggles as his arm sent out an invisible wave to collect information, the data came up immediately – the driver was dead. It saved him the trouble of finishing the job, movement behind him alerted the Soldier of the presence of his handlers as they picked up the tire stinger he’d used to take the car off the road. The screaming of the car alarm was too loud and he pulled open the car door, shoving the body aside to reach the control console to turn off the alarm.
Only the noise didn’t stop, Winter turned his head toward the back seat and his brows furrowed at what he saw. He reached his metal arm out and turned the object toward himself, the horrible sound was coming from a tiny red, scrunched up face of a baby and just as he made the discovery so had his handlers. The three men stood by the now smoking car, the two handlers arguing back and forth about the screaming baby whilst Winter glared at the ugly thing through the window, hating the sound it was making. Finally one of the men opened the back door and dragged the baby carrier out, depositing it on the road and pointing at the Soldier, ordering him to shoot the infant as a witness. It was an order – he had to comply – the order made no sense though. The baby wouldn’t know what was going on, it wouldn’t remember them or be capable of being a problem to HYDRA. He glared down at the baby, feeling a pistol with a silencer being put in his flesh hand, his jaw was clenching under his mask and in the back of his head he could hear a voice telling him no, screaming at him to leave the baby be. The order was repeated and Winter knelt down on one knee and moved the blanket covering the child down, it really was an ugly thing, red skin with pouty lips and wet eyes – strangely the baby began to calm with his metal hand on it, tiny fists gripped his cold digits and watery eyes looked up at him. It was still crying but with less intensity and as he brought the end of the barrel to it’s head the crying dulled to a shrill whine.
He couldn’t comply. Winter couldn’t justify the death of the infant, it wouldn’t be for the greater good and he stood back up, still glaring at the baby as his handlers screamed at him, a fist to the stomach knocked the wind out of him and he doubled over in pain. Watching silently as his handler raised his own gun and pointed into the carrier – Two shots were fired.
Winter could fly a helicopter, he could drive any sort of vehicle and if he could choose he would only ride motorcycles. He could use any weapon, he could hack into systems and build digital virus’ but the one thing he couldn’t do – what he was really struggling with – was get the baby carrier into the van. His handlers were dead, both with bullet holes in their skulls and he knew he would be punished when he returned to base but he hadn’t been able to stand aside and let them kill the baby. He had planned to leave the child in the road, certain someone would find the scene and take care of it but as he was walking away the baby’s cries followed him, that strange feeling coming over him again, his instincts screaming at him to protect it, to pick it up and protect the child. And now he was tangling the passenger side seatbelt around the carrier, it should slide through the slots but he was having no luck and the baby was still crying. ‘Zatknis’! Tikho…tikho!’ The harsh Russian was muffled through his mask and he gained nothing from telling the baby to shut up, he wrapped the seatbelt around the carrier and climbed into the driver seat.
There was a safe house already set up for Winter, his mission was to take down several targets over the next few weeks and they had needed a place to rest up, the baby cried for the entire journey and he wondered how the tiny lungs had so much power. It would quiet a little when he carried it to the safe house but started again when he put the carrier down, 'Lisus Khristos, dostatochno placha!’ He pulled his goggles and mask off, throwing them on the counter in frustration before pulling his hair back with an elastic band, stalking around the house once to calm himself down, something telling him not to yell at the baby. Winter let that feeling take over and released a massive sigh before standing in front of the carrier, 'Stop it!’ it wasn’t unusual for him to slip into English in times of stress but this time it seemed to help, the baby’s cries dulling, 'What do you want?’ Of course they didn’t answer him but it dawned on Winter that the child had just been in a car crash, 'You hurt?’ Gently he released the buckle around the baby’s chest and awkwardly picked it up, carrying it at arms length to the sofa and laying the baby down. He removed the tiny, little onesie and tossed it aside, his eyes narrowing as he looked over flawless, new skin, turning the baby this way and that until he was satisfied it wasn’t hurt.
He gave a disgusted snort as he removed the nappy from the baby, the little girl to be exact, and he grabbed up the baby bag he’d taken at the crash, digging through it for baby wipes, talc and a fresh nappy. Somehow Winter knew what he was doing, he had no idea how but his hands moved from memory, cleaning the baby up and redressing her in fresh clothes from the bag. It was then he realised she wasn’t crying and her skin wasn’t tomato anymore, her face now smooth as she looked all about her and then she was grinning up at him innocently. 'That was it?’ Winter continued to rifle through the bag, finding bottles and a tin of powder, he didn’t know what to do with that, the instructions were vague and he knew it would just have to be trial and error in feeding the tiny girl, 'Don’t fall off,’ the Soldier told her and her reply was her attempting to get her foot in her mouth, he took two steps away and then thought better of it, piling up the sofa cushions to ensure the baby wouldn’t fall off the furniture.
Throwing a few scoops into the bottle and filling it with water the soldier hunted through the the kitchen area for a bowl, he had to heat the formula up but all he could find was a mug just big enough to shove the bottle in, boiling water poured out of the sides and Winter almost threw his hands up in annoyance. Why had he picked the baby up? What was it about her that he couldn’t abandon? He leaned back against the counter with his arms crossed, head tilting to the side as he zoned out. It wasn’t unusual for him to drift into his own head – there was plenty of space for him to get lost in – he thought on his mission, the next checkpoint and the face of the man he had to kill, he’d have to break into the weapons cache to get his sniper rifle but that wasn’t a problem, this wasn’t the first he’d killed a handler and he knew that as long as he completed his mission in the time frame it wouldn’t be too much of a problem. They’d make an example of him back at base and getting a beating wasn’t the worst thing they’d ever done to him.
A noise from the baby sent a spike of pain through his temples, a scene playing out on the backs of his eyelids left him stunned. He was in a kitchen, a different one and a woman handed him a tiny bundle, his arms were both flesh, his hands much smaller – like a childs – the bundle was a tiny baby and the soldier felt warmth spread through his chest as he remembered a tiny little hand reaching for him. “Protect her James,” the woman’s voice was ringing in his ears, he covered them as if in pain and dropped to one knee, “This is your little sister – so you have to be the big brother now.” Winter’s metal fist slammed into the floor again and again as he tried to get the images out of his head, he had to think of the mission and only his mission. A cry came from the sofa and suddenly Winter was back in the safe house, looking around groggily as he struggled up and grabbed the bottle almost angrily. She had rolled onto her stomach and was chewing at one of the cushions when he stood over her, she looked at him with a toothless grin and made grabby hands for the bottle, 'You know what this is?’ She squealed loudly in her excitement as he tested the temperature and handed it to her, her mouth finding the end clumsily and sucking noisily.
The man sank down onto the floor with his back resting on the sofa, his mind at war over the mission and over the baby. Slowly he the two sides began melding into the other and Winter realised he could force them together, he had done protection work before and this wasn’t too different.
Protect the baby, kill his targets and get back in the freezer
Winter went through the baby’s bag again, counting how many nappies there were, the wipes that were left, clean clothes and at the bottom he found a tiny bracelet with a date engraved into it, from six months ago, that would make finding her a home easier. He was going to need more for the baby but that could wait until the morning when his headache was gone. A sudden shot of pain went through his scalp and Winter hissed angrily – she was pulling the rubber band in his hair and yanking strands out one by one. 'Stop it!’ He snapped at her, turning to glare at the stunned little face covered in milk, ’…I should have shot you.’ The baby hiccuped, her face screwing up and the horrid sound from earlier started again, 'No…’ Winter scooped her up, rubbing her messy face with a cushion before laying her belly down along his metal forearm – again he didn’t understand how he knew to do it that way – he rubbed her back with an exasperated sigh and waited for her to calm down. 'You’re my mission.’ He told her once she had calmed again, her mouth now sucking at the metal plates of his arm, gumming at it enthusiastically whilst he watched on disgustedly as milky drool ran down the limb. 'You’re my mission.’ Again and again he said it, convincing his shattered brain to accept the fact until he could look at her and feel she belonged there.
'Missiya.’ That’s what he would call her; Mission.
Way back in 2012, when I was a high school student, young and carefree, my friends invited me to see Nolan’s The Dark Knight Rises. It had just hit the theaters.
Now I didn’t know anything about Batman back then– I hadn’t seen the other movies, and I didn’t really want to– but you don’t just say “no” to your squad. So I went. On the walk to the theater, my buddy gave my the rundown on the first two films and mentioned that she hoped a Robin would appear in the last installment.
“A Robin?” I asked her.
“I think there’s lots of them,” she said. “At least three.”
She’d been watching a TV show, she explained, that had two of them. And there was another, in between them, that had died.
“A robin died??” (I was shocked.)
“Yes,” she told me, and she promised she would show me that TV show the next time I was at her place. My house didn’t have television.
I enjoyed the movie, and a few weeks later, I went to my friend’s house for her birthday party. Around eleven, we settled in for the night– my friend remembered her promise and turned on that tv show, which I learned was called Young Justice.
Six hours later, I was still watching, clicking through episodes as my friends dropped off to sleep one by one. I was fascinated. I was transported. I had to know more.
The reason Bates Motel works as a TV show is that it is essentially about sad, messed up people trying to find their way out of a sad, messed up situation. And you know what? They *are* all truly trying to get better. Even Norman is.
It’s just not enough in the end. We know it.
That’s the horrific thing about this show. They all genuinely do their best and it means, well, nothing.
These people were all screwed from the get-go. Defeated before they could ever start. That’s why it’s all so sad.
For many of us in our late teens through mid 20's, we have an older generation of parents whom seem to forget what it's like to be young and starting out. They forget the fact that our generation is the generation that's been declared screwed over from the start. For example, back when our parents were our age, the world in general was cheaper when it came to prices and taxes, a bit more flexible when it came to jobs and education standards, and a minimum wage job could get you somewhere. Not everywhere but, you were able to save up to get your own car without a loan; which is something you can't do today unless you want something that'll break down within the hour you first bought and drove it. Then there's the fact that when they were in school, they were actually taught. Not droned. They learned how to work on, fix, and create things, do paperwork, cook, sew, knit, and etc. Skills that prepared you for the adult world, unlike us. We just learned how to press buttons for an answer and maybe half-assed taught maybe two of the above skills I mentioned our parents learned in school. They don't realize that we have been taught nothing at all other than most teachers saying we're shit people, probably not going anywhere in life, and good luck. School doesn't prepare us for life anymore. It prepares us for, hopefully, minimal standards for a job at most. And even then, that doesn't seem to get us anywhere either. Our parents, at most, just needed to pass and graduate high school to get a good, supporting job when they were our age, along with free benefits such as health insurance and etc. Now, in today's society, we can pass through high school and college and still not be eligible to work somewhere that would give us financial stability and benefits (which we now have to pay for as well through our paychecks).
Might I add as well that I've also noticed and experienced that older generation parents think we're lazy, don't do anything productive, and don't understand how we can be tired from our jobs? Let me rant on this as well. Parents, 30-40 hours a week jobs DO NOT FUCKING PAY FOR SHIT ANYMORE. Especially when they're minimal wage or close to it! We are literally WORKING OUR ASSES OFF just trying to scrape the bottom of the barrel for some pay. Then, again, there's that wonderful fact that we are either NOT hired or ELIGIBLE for a job that could financially stabilize us because we are under qualified, over qualified, or people are cheap and don't want to hire nor train anyone anymore like they're SUPPOSED TO! We literally have to get 3-4 shit jobs and run our bodies into the ground before we will be able to achieve financial stability and be able to support ourselves, alone. And once again, that's only if we can get hired at this point. Employers expect us to have 30-50 years of work experience under our belts and have been hired by, what it seems to be,100 places already at the ages of 16-25 years old. Obviously, that's not how it works in the real world. The standards for a job are ridiculous now! We are jumping through hoops and breaking our backs constantly just to get a minimum wage job, and especially for a financially and beneficially stable job! You worked 2 jobs and were able to afford a car and an apartment at the age of 18-20 years old? Good for fucking you. That's not how it works anymore.
Parents, let's also remember that if any of us want to even attempt to get anywhere anymore, we have to go to college. College that requires us to cough up 1k-200k EVERY SEMESTER, or take out student loans that'll put us in DEBT for the REST OF OUR LIVES while we work low income jobs with little or no benefits that we're struggling to survive off of IN THE FIRST PLACE?! Yeah, mom and/or dad, it's easy as fuck for us. We're totally lazy low-life fucks just trying to make your life hell.
No. That's not what we're trying to do to you. We're sorry we can't afford our own place, afford our own car/health insurances, or to buy our own cars. Life, or in our circumstances, attempts to start a life are harder than ever for us at this point. This world is now stacked against us. We no longer have those happy-go-lucky opportunities waiting for us anymore. It's why we either give up, run our bodies into the ground working, not working, or doing malicious things (drug dealing, stealing, etc) to gain money and make a living off of. Hard work and education no longer seems to pay off/reward/benefit us anymore; or does very little.
Stop belittling us. Stop nagging at us. Stop putting us down for things we can't control!
We need support! We need a guide! We need love and positivity! Not you screaming at us for being "useless", "worthless", "lazy", and etc!
We need understanding parents. Not drill sergeants pushing us to our deaths. If we wanted that, we'd go and get ourselves killed in a war.
Respect and love us for our endless and failing attempts. Give us a break. We're under more pressure and stress than you're acknowledging.