#then try again to install windows and then chilling. and then go into usb open bootcamp and run the exe for drivers

[turnedpalefromlackofsun]

Up next: windows 10

[crystaljins]

Sweet danger

Characters: Seokjin x reader 

Word count: 1.9 K

Synopsis:  4. mafia!au + 3. meet cute + 17. “  hold your fire! ” [drabble game]

Notes:  This one took a long time because I have to admit, mafia aus are too dark for me. I get too scared to write them lol. Like how do I write something romantic about a character who does all the nasty stuff associated with an organised crime ring? And then I thought “Huh but what if they don’t do that” and thus this drabble was born. Also I know you requested quote 19 (which is really popular for some reason???) but that’s already been done so I chose my own one. And I picked a member too. Enjoy!!

Eatjin’s bakery is a pleasant sort of place. It has rosy pink walls and the air smells of vanilla and sugar. The tables are pure white with carefully crafted edges that looks like vanilla frosting on the edge of a cake. The entrance, a simple glass door that lets passers-by peer curiously into the interior, is protected from rain by a bright pink and white striped awning. On either side of the white door are two carefully kept flower beds, with brightly coloured flowers lovingly chosen by the owner. And in the centre of the glass door is gold calligraphy proudly proclaiming the name of the bakery, ones that match perfectly with the elongated golden door handle. The metal is cool as you shakily wrap your fingers around it.

A bell chimes brightly as you push the door open. No one else is inside, currently, which is exactly what you need. You don’t need anyone else to witness your current state. You’d managed to wash the dirt and grime out of your hair, and a thick layer of makeup conceals the dark circles under your eyes. So you look presentable, at least. As presentable as you can be in your current situation.

“One moment!” A warm, friendly voice calls from somewhere in the back of the bakery. You want to cry that you don’t have a moment to spare, but you suppose it’s a good opportunity to gather your wits and composure before meeting the owner of the voice. Because said voice belongs to the owner of the bakery you now stand in, the only person in this world who can help you- retired head of the mafia and formerly the deadliest man in the world, Kim Seokjin.

“You’ve come at the right time!” The man himself cries as he steps into view. He’s handsome- warm eyes and carefully combed hair. It’s dyed purple, an odd choice that clashes a little with the pastel pink button down tucked into pure white trousers he is wearing. However, when coupled with the white soda-jerk-hat with bright pink outlines, he looks perfectly at home in the bakery. Surrounded by cupcakes and the smell of freshly baked cookies, no one would never guess at Kim Seokjin’s past. You, in particular, have walked past this bakery on numerous occasions and never even spared a thought to the who the owner might be. “Yoongi just finished a fresh batch of our famous raspberry and white chocolate cookies. The recipe is to die for.” He’s looking down, dusting flour off his fingers, and when he looks up, he offers you a warm smile. The warmth and kindness of his expression is in direct contrast to the sudden sharpness of his gaze and the way he seizes you up, however.

“You look guilty for being here.” He says abruptly, stepping up to the counter and leaning against the glass display. “Let me guess- you’re breaking a diet. Don’t worry. I’m here to help you.”

He steps out from behind the counter and begins to walk up to you. You aren’t expecting it and take a few panicked steps back. He pauses, surprised at your skittishness, and arches an eyebrow.

“No need to be afraid. I was just trying to say that the cupcakes in this display happen to be called the ‘diet-breakers’.” He explains, gesturing to a case full of cupcakes decorated with perfect icing flowers in various colours, not unlike the flowers in the pots on either side of the entrance. He tilts his head and smiles strangely- it sends a chill down your spine, the way it is both charming and practiced but somehow eerie and a little mean. “Unless it’s not the cupcakes you’re afraid of… but me?” He suggests. You swallow and take another fearful step back. He’s hit the nail on the head- you’re terrified of him. In the last 36 hours you have witnessed all the atrocities the mafia is capable of and Kim Seokjin used to be the head honcho. The pastel pink walls and smell of vanilla can’t cover up the underlying stench of bright red blood that no doubt used to stain his hands on the regular.

“You’re Kim Seokjin, aren’t you?” You say, and your voice is hoarse and shaky. He frowns and nods.

“Well, I am, but most of my customers call me Jin.” He admits. “Which makes me think that maybe you aren’t here to try my white chocolate mudcake.”

You hesitate. He’s absolutely right- you aren’t here for the baked goods he has to offer. You’re here because 36 hours ago your parents were killed right in front of you for reasons you don’t understand yet. And your father had told you with his dying breath that the only chance you and your little sister had at surviving was to find Kim Seokjin, former head of the mafia. And he’d slipped a USB into your hand and begged you to run before blood gurgled up between his teeth and the life drained from his eyes. And you’d tried your best to run like he’d told you to, you really had, but you’d failed. They’d taken her, your little sister and you don’t know if she’s dead or alive and Kim Seokjin is the only hope you have.

“I’m here because-“ You finally gather up the courage to say, but he stops you by holding up a hand.

“No.” He says simply. You blink a few times, before attempting to explain further. He merely cuts you off again. “Listen. If you’re in the know enough to seek me out and call me by my full name despite the fact that you’ve never once set foot in the bakery before today, then you should know this: If it isn’t about my delicious baked goods or a complaint about Yoongi swearing at you when he worked the counter the other day, then I don’t want to discuss it. It’s on the sign.” He tells you, jerking a thumb forcefully at what is indeed a sign bearing that exact sentiment. “If you don’t want to talk about cupcakes we don’t want to talk to you” is what it boldly declares in a shimmery gold that almost mocks you. He steps up to you, close enough that you can smell the scent of freshly baked bread from his clothes and makes shooing motions at you. “Buy a cupcake or leave, please.” He tells you dismissively.

He manages to shoo you about halfway to the door before you dig your heels in. You whirl around and grabs his hands pleadingly. That catches him off guard, and he leans away from the way you crane your neck to try and meet his gaze.

“Please.” You say, and your voice cracks. You’re in agony. You haven’t slept in a day and a half, you’ve witnessed your parents death and your sister, a mere child, could be out there suffering or dead. You need this man and his absurd bakery to help you, to listen to your story, anything. You just need somewhere to go from here, instead of constantly running, fearing that every person who walks passed with their hands in their pocket is concealing a gun or knife. Fearing that in the next moment your phone will ring with a call to inform you that your sister is dead in a ditch somewhere. “I need your help, Seokjin. You’re the only hope I have.” His gaze softens at your obvious desperation and vulnerability, and he’s gentle as he pulls his hands free from your grip.

“I’m sorry. You’re obviously quite young, and if my guess is right, you’ve gotten in a little over your head in that world.” He says. “To which I say, you can still walk away. Turn your life around, friend. That’s the only help I can offer you.”

He turns slowly and it is only because you are staring at his back in despair that you see it- the glowing red dot against the pastel pink of his uniform, centred right over where his heart should be. You’ve been shot at enough now to recognise that a sniper is taking aim at Seokjin.

“Get down!” You screech, throwing yourself bodily at him just in time for the display window to explode and send glass shrapnel spraying across the shop. The mirror hanging on the wall that Seokjin had been standing in front of mere moments before is cracked, what is unmistakeably a bullet lodged in its centre. You peel yourself off where you have plastered yourself protectively over Seokjin’s back and settle so that you are on all fours, hovering over his prone figure. It allows Seokjin enough space to roll over and stare incredulously at his ruined bakery from beneath you.

You’re about to scramble off the former mafia boss when, for the fourth time in 36 hours, you feel the cold metal of a gun barrel pressed to the back of your head. You stiffen in fear and Seokjin groans, staring at the person standing behind you.

“Hold your fire, Yoongi.” He pants, winded from the way you essentially tackled him. “It wasn’t her. Whoever it was, they’re probably miles away now. I know I wouldn’t stick around after missing a shot at the infamous Kim Seokjin.”

The sensation of cold metal vanishes and you sit back on your heels, sighing with relief. You turn your head to find another man with the same pastel pink uniform as Seokjin, though distinctly crueller looking and with a gun pointed directly at you. His eyes hold all the sharpness that Seokjin’s do, but with none of the kindness or warmth.

“I told you we shouldn’t have cut costs and skimped on the bullet proof windows.” The man, probably Yoongi, says, without shifting his gaze from you. Seokjin sits up as well, attempting to shake the broken glass from his shirt without cutting himself.

“I think we’d be the laughingstock of the whole city if anyone found out we installed bullet proof windows in a bakery.” Seokjin says with a sigh. “Although Bullet Proof Bakery does have a nice ring to it.”

Yoongi holds out a hand to you to help you up. You gratefully accept and take stock of your injuries. A few minor cuts from the glass but otherwise you think you’re ok. Seokjin follows suit and gets to his feet. He stares despairingly at his bakery for a moment.

“I retired from the mafia business because I wanted to run a bakery in peace.” He says with  a long, burdened sigh, and he looks like he might cry. He turns to you. “Still, despite the trouble you’ve brought to my doorstep, I’m not an ungrateful man. You saved my life, so in return I’ll give you a chance to explain: Why do you need my help and why did I just get shot at?”

You stare around at the ruined bakery, and at the way the windows are open to the street outside. At any moment, any one could walk by and attack you. And as far as you know, Seokjin is the only person you can trust to help you now, so any eavesdroppers would definitely be detrimental to your cause.

“First,” You say slowly. “Why don’t we go somewhere more quiet?” The weight of the USB in your pocket feels like a thousand pounds and you feel like it is burning your skin. “It’s a long story.”

One that you don’t have all the answers to yet, but hopefully the man in front of you does.

He’s your last hope, after all.

[thong-in-the-twist]

A thank-me-later call

Summary: Jongdae is not tech savvy. But he knows how to call for help.

Jongdae’s POV. Smut. Mentions of waxplay, bondage, sensory deprivation, riding crops. Explicit description of blowjob.

First posted on @its-me-waffles

Jongdae isn’t good with technology. He knows enough to get by, but he is really not tech savvy. He is worlds away from that. Hell, he always joked that he is more of an analogue kind of guy. Which is not really a problem – he owns a smartphone, but he doesn’t feel the need to explore all of its hidden options, or even slightly advanced options. If it takes pictures, calls, lets him browse the internet and send messages – Jongdae is good. And really, if there is something that he’ll need – someone would surely help him out.

It was always like this – someone would come and provide Jongdae with something he really didn’t know he needed or wanted. And usually, he really needed that thing.

Like that first rolled-up porn magazine that his classmate excitedly pushed into his hand during recess back in junior high with excited thank me later.

That “thank me later” became a phrase that Jongdae learned to associate with really good times. Thank me later, he heard in high school, when his friend dropped a USB on his desk. Thank me later was what he heard when Baekhyun installed an add-on in his browser that allowed him to change IP address, walked him through the basics and bookmarked one American porn site for him. (Baekhyun even went as far as leaving post-it note next to the keyboard with an English-to-Korean translation of categories. Which Jongdae immediately discarded and later, faced with categories he couldn’t even understand after translation, he regretted having done that.)

So when he is chilling in his hotel room during CBX’s Japan Tour and Minseok just slides into his room and utters you’re gonna thank me later and grabs Jongdae’s discarded notebook from a desk – Jongdae knows exactly what is going to happen.

Sure enough, Minseok is typing something into browser’s search box and Jongdae is just vaguely interested in what it is. The results would be more important. And so Minseok checks that the site loads correctly and offhandedly puts the notebook on Jongdae’s bed.

Jongdae doesn’t look at the site long after Minseok is gone. He tries to fool himself that he is not eager to check it out. It’s not a secret that in his line of work, one can be pretty lonely. Especially while on tour when he can’t even see his girl.

So finally Jongdae puts down the book he was reading and drags his notebook closer. He tries his best to navigate the site with his limited Japanese, and finally, he settles on something that doesn’t have a too long description and the girl doesn’t look ­too cute. He is pleasantly surprised that he doesn’t need to suffer weird dialogue and video skips right to fucking (which is surprising, to say the least).

But the thing is – it’s not right. He can feel himself getting aroused, the blood in his veins is starting to flow quicker, but he can’t bring himself to open his jeans. It feels strangely wrong, too brusque? Which is plainly weird – he usually doesn’t have problems with masturbation, it’s just tonight it doesn’t feel like it will be enough.

He sighs annoyed at himself. He’s gotten his hopes up (and something else entirely as well), and now he can’t even deal with that. His eyes slide down the screen and he checks the hour – it’s late considering that he has to wake up early. Truth be told he needs to wake up early every day, so it’s not a surprise.

He pushes his laptop away, closes it, not bothering to log off. But he doesn’t stand up to go to the bathroom. He is feeling pretty helpless and moving seems like too much of a hassle. He can still feel the arousal shimmering in his blood and his cock is still pressing against the zipper.

That feeling can be nice. A little bit of discomfort before he gets to experience one of the best feelings in the world. One that he is not going to experience tonight. He blindly searches for his phone, ready to scroll down the sports’ page on naver.

But it’s like his thumbs have their own agenda, he finds himself texting her.

You up?

He stares at his phone dumbfounded and annoyed. It’s such a lame text. Especially in the middle of the night. And the longer he stares at those two words the more he thinks that his intentions couldn’t have been expressed in a way more brusque than that. And what if she is fast asleep (as a normal person should be) and she wakes up tomorrow to that text, only to realize that Jongdae was horny in the middle of the night and tried his luck. That could be awkward.

The night usually covers the embarrassment one would feel in the broad daylight.

When his phone vibrates in his hand, he has to close his eyes for a second. Just to compose himself. To exhale and to pray not to get scolded.

Yeah.

It could have been better, but it also could have been much worse. There is a period in her reply, but there is a reply.

Where you at?

This time the reply comes immediately.

Bed.

The period is still there, which tells Jongdae that she is really trying to convey his annoyance, but he really can’t be bothered. He knows her bed. It’s narrow, obviously a single, and it’s old and it creaks when they fuck on it. Bed’s frame is quite high and more than once he hit it with his knee, more than once he held onto headrest when she rode him. The bed is just next to a wall, and that wall is always so cold against his back when they cuddle in bed afterwards.

Nice.

He knows it’s not the right thing to send even when he writes it. And obviously, the reply doesn’t come. Jongdae can see in his mind how she reads it, laying on her side, eyes squinted in the dark, and she rolls her eyes and stuffs her phone under her pillow, shimmering deeper under the blanket.

His window is closing.

So he calls her.

It takes her four signals. Four signals of Jongdae pressing his phone against his ear, fearing that she might be too annoyed already, or that she put her phone on silent.

But she picks up.

She was always a keeper.

“What do you want?” He can hear her whine as soon as the call sound dies. He smiles, knowing that she can’t see that. He looks down at his crotch where his penis is still very much straining his pants.

“To talk?” He says, but it’s posed as a question. And he expects everything. He expects her to hang up. He expects her to logically point out all the reasons not to do that. Hell, he expects her to go into it. Everything, but that.

“What am I? Sex phone operator?”

“That would certainly be handy.” Is it too much? It’s obviously a joke, and Jongdae manages to put enough of teasing inflexion in his words to be sure that she understands that – but Jongdae would be lying if he was to say that he didn’t mean that.

The silence is long enough for Jongdae to grow restless and consider apologizing. But finally, she snorts.

“Ok.” Jongdae throws his fist in the air, making sure not to make a sound. “I guess I can give you a proverbial hand.”

She is good. Of course, she is good – she knows him. And that one offhand, lewd pun is enough for warmth to start spreading in Jongdae’s chest. He fumbles for his headset, fully believing that it’s going to be worth it.

“Yeah, a hand would be nice.” He says, as he hopes, conversationally.

“And what has gotten you up at this hour?” She asks, and Jongdae can only laugh breathlessly. He finally grabs the headset and connects it with his phone. “I hope it’s not Japanese porn?”

So he might have choked a little bit on that. But again, she knows him.

“Kinda?”

“Then I really need to help you out.” She sounds resigned, but also quite serious. Jongdae knows that it’s only a façade and really – she is joking. “What do you want from me?”

That’s a hard question. He knows the frames of what he wants. He wants her to talk dirty to him. He wants her to paint a scene so real and so voluptuous that he’ll be on the verge of coming down his pants. He wants her to enjoy it, he wants her to enjoy the power she holds over him. But he doesn’t know how to say it. He doesn’t know if what he’ll ask won’t be too much. It shouldn’t because they have sex quite regularly (that should erase the embarrassment, right?).

“You know what? No.” Jongdae’s heart is dropping to his knees in this exact moment. “I am not a sex phone operator – so I will tell you what I want.”

Jongdae hums, pleasant tingling spreading on his scalp. Yes. Very much yes.

“I’d love that.” He says, and she only laughs.

“I knew you would.” Jongdae leans back against his pillows, one hand idly rubbing his thigh. He wants to touch his dick, but he is pretty sure that it will be more rewarding if he waits for her to talk.

“I am ready to hear all of your fantasies.” He says. “Open right up, girl!”

“Please don’t.” She is stern, and he grins at his empty room – well, he might be horny, but the need to annoy her is ever-present.

“Wait do I get to browse the collection?” He asks, and her groan is enough to tell him that no.

“If you don’t shut up I won’t even give you a sample.” She warns and Jongdae does a motion of zipping his mouth – even though she can’t see that. But his silence seems to be enough of an answer because she exhales.

“I was told recently that none of us is a mind reader, and if I want something to happen I should articulate that.” That is definitely not a start Jongdae was expecting, but he is sure that it’s going somewhere so he doesn’t say a thing. “And this moment is as good as any.”

He hums something, lightly tapping his fingers on the bed.

“Have you ever thought about going more kinky in bed?”

That’s a surprise. One that has Jongdae bite his lower lip.

“I am certainly thinking about it now.” He supplies, because hell. Of course, he thought about that. And if kinky is where they are going – then Jongdae is more than happy to listen.

“Because I did.” She breathes the last word right into Jongdae’s ear and it sends a shiver down his spine. She’s good. She always was, she always will be – but does it mean that she wants to go more kinky in real life? Because if yes, Jongdae will probably implode. “I thought about us fucking in your old bed.”

That’s quite confusing. His old bed? How is that kinky?

“In your family home. You know, when we go to visit your parents during holidays.” Oh. “I imagined us trying to keep quiet – because your parents would be sleeping in their room, and your brother in his, but we wouldn’t be able to contain ourselves.”

Jongdae might not be stoked about mentioning his family members in the plot, but he gets the excitement behind that. He knows he is loud. She is quite a moaner herself (but he is sure that he is louder) – so that would raise their adrenaline levels. He can categorize it as mildly kinky.

“Noted.” He says, and she immediately understands that’s her cue.

“Well, still going down this route I imagined me sucking you off somewhere in public.” Jongdae’s hand finally cups his cock. The warmth of his hand and her unabashed comment is a really harmonious duo. “Because you do know that I like your cock, don’t you, Jongdae? I like to feel its weight on my tongue. I like to press the tip of my tongue just under the crown and I love to scrape my teeth down your shaft – knowing how much it puts you on the edge.” Still not really kinky (except for the public part), but it’s enough for Jongdae to decide it’s a good time to pull down his zipper. “But I enjoy it more when it’s the other way around.”

Jongdae stops, feeling how hot his cock is through the soft cotton of his boxers. The other way around, huh?

“I like to get myself off imagining that we are somewhere in public. Library, my work, whatever – as long as there is a table. A table you can hide under so no-one can see you there. No one can see how you spread my knees, and how you dive under my skirt. No one can see how you dampen my already wet underwear with your breath and your tongue – but I can feel it, and I can see people around, and I have to fight to keep my sounds down. I can feel how you drag my underwear down, or not – you just push it to the side. And I have to fight down my blush, my whimpers, I have to fight my urge to slide down on the chair, because you are just that good. Damn, you are so good.”

Her breath is heavier and her words are coming more fluently (even if less coherently). He loves the picture. He can feel it – her hot thighs under his hands, a cold floor under his knees, and her heady smell.  He can hear how she swallows down her moans and whimper, and he knows that he would do his best to make her fail. He hopes, oh he hopes so much that she won’t be able to withstand it, that she’ll touch herself while talking to him.

Because his hand is already circling his cock. He barely pushed down his underwear – her voice in his ear is more important than that.

“I also thought that wax might be interesting.” Jongdae whimpers. Wax, hot, hot wax. “Like, we’d be at mine or at yours, but the set up would be romantic. You know, scented candles, music, all that shit. We don’t really get to fuck slowly, right? But this time we would. You’d blindfold me, you’d bind my hands – oh so my place would be better with the wooden headrest?” She is babbling, but he doesn’t mind because not only wax but also bondage and sensory deprivation. That is definitely not a light deep into a realm of BDSM. “So I wouldn’t expect that. You’d be slow with your hands and lips and nose and teeth, and you’d worship me because I deserve that.” Jongdae smiles, hand twisting on his cock because she is coherent enough to dare him to negate her words. And he’d be mad to even want to. “But you’d take one of the candles, with that generic candle smell, and I would not expect a touch of hot wax on my skin. You’d let the drops of wax adorn my skin – back, belly whatever – and it would burn, but it would be so, so good. I would be asking for more. I would be pleading for more.”

Jongdae is losing his coherency. Fast. He is already leaking onto his knuckles, spreading it around his cock for better glide. It’s good – it’s really good. Of course, her being next to him would be better – but still the picture she got in his head if far better than any porn.

In his delirious (now) state he realizes she is not talking. That something stopped her, and that is a no-no.

“Hi, Babe?” He prompts, pushing his forefinger just under the crown like she said she would. “You are the best.”

He says that, but he says it to make her talk again. And he fully expects her to throw back some sassy answer like obviously or something, but she doesn’t.

“Uh, that one might be… Anyway, it’s only my imagination, and yeah, I don’t expect you to like, fulfil it or anything… I just enjoy it.”

And now, he has to hear it. He doesn’t have the slightest idea what that might be, but with a foreword like that? Damn, it must be good. And his hand stills on his cock, as he waits for her to resume taking.

“Well, I did warn you.” She says, and he can hear her shifting on the other end of the line. “You are on your knees. You have your arms bound behind you. You are naked, but I am not. Not exactly. I am in some kind of sexy lingerie and high heels and garters and maybe stockings. But it’s not important. The important part is how you look at me, eyes hot and wanting – but I am the one in power. And I am not hurrying, walking around you in a circle and tell you that you’ve been a bad boy. And I would have some kind of a riding crop in hand or something like that – but I would keep it on your back, slowly caressing your skin with leather. At least until I would decide to hit you. It wouldn’t be that hard, but you’d lean forward, arms straining the bonds, and you’d hiss, or keen, or moan – because it would hurt, but just enough for it to rile you up. And you’d be there at my every command – because I deserve it.”

It might have been her fantasy, but now – it’s his. She painted the picture, but the details he is adding himself. His hand on his cock is familiar, and frantic because he can smell her skin and leather. He can feel the sudden outburst of pain on his back – going up to his brain and down to his cock. He can feel the rope (because it would be rope and not handcuffs) digging into his wrists and arms. He can feel the carpet on his knees – and he knows they would burn because of abrasions – but she would be so undeniably sexy. Black lingerie would look so exquisite against her skin, and the riding crop would be so threatening and so arousing in her manicured hand. He can imagine her in those dangerously high heels, with one of the stilettos’ heel on his thigh. It would hurt, it would leave a mark – but to be in her power? He’d do anything to experience that. And if she’d later fucked herself on him – mindless of his pleasure, just using him to get what she wants? The bare thought has Jongdae biting his knuckle – his heartbeat is so fast that he can feel the pulsing of his whole body, his dick so sensitive, that he can’t help but sink his teeth deeper into his finger.

And then he hears that. Shuddering breath, quiet, but throaty, right in his ear. He stops, hand squeezing his dick way harder than he should, but he hears it again, accompanied by light rustling – and he knows, he simply knows – that she is fingering herself. She is fingering herself on her old, creaking bed – and really Jongdae can’t hold off any longer.

There is no finesse. Finesse is for moments when she is with him. Finesse is for moments when he is the one fingering her, finesse is for moments when he can smell her arousal when he can taste her skin. He jacks himself off, hand twisting around the head with every slide up, and moments later he is coming, semen spilling on his hand, on his jeans, on his covers.

He is not sure if he moans, or if he wheezes, or if he comes silently. She will probably tell him later.

He sags against the pillows, only now realizing how wet his back is, how perspiration covers his face, how his chest heaves.

But she is still going on the other end. She sighs and mewls, and he wishes so much to be next to her at this moment. He is too spent to properly enjoy that, but he’d gladly give her a hand.

He doesn’t know how long he listens to her, with his come drying on his hand – but he knows that he’ll recall her like that the next time he misses her – how she got herself off on her fingers while talking about what she’d to him.

She comes with a high-pitched, but very familiar moan. He knows that it will be a moment before she’ll speak up again – and he fears (now that he can think) that she’ll be embarrassed about this. And he has to make sure that she knows that’s ok. And that he very much likes the ideas.

“Well, I guess I’ll have to find a way to explain my sudden interest in riding crops if guys happen to find one in my closet.”

[unadulteratedcrownstudentth-blog]

What does it cost? Opportunity Perform You Truly Needed to have Before Your Tour?

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