#get those gigs baby boos

[rosetta-j-stone]

Still not over the fact that Joker Out have managed to achieve:

being in the Eurovision final

selling out the biggest arena in Slovenia

playing on the main stage at Sziget

...in the span of less than 2 years <3

[rosetta-j-stone]

THE POOKIEST <3 <3 <3

[dadsbongos]

for honor. and duty.

3.2k words / warnings - forced breeding, injections, drugging, unhappy end, reader is written as a woman

summary - it's his job to carry on the bloodline, and its your job to love Satoru Gojo; thankless as both gigs are.

kinktober: day nine - breeding, aphrodisiac ~~~

Satoru was disinterested in fathering children. 

While he loved teaching, and teasing Megumi throughout the years was a joy, raising an entire person from scratch? An unnecessary addition to his plate he would rather be without. Besides, he was only scratching at his late 20s, why should he rush into having babies?

His feelings were not hidden, either. Everything about Satoru screamed childfree. Most respected the decision; for the Gojo clan to be written into history with Satoru as the cataclysmic final bang -- the sole pillar maintaining his clan’s status in the big three. It would be an honor and a pleasure, were he humble enough to silently accept both.

But Satoru loves whining.

“Too bad the Six Eyes and Limitless will be totally lost to time when I die…” he pouts every time he says it. Purely to gloat that not only does he have both, but he will be the last one in history, “If only someone could take them off my hands, huh?”

Maybe he should’ve just shut his mouth.

… 

“Why don’t you donate, then?” Shoko snarks one random Wednesday, finally fed up with Satoru’s haughty huffs this particular lunch break, “I’m sure your swimmers wouldn’t be unwelcome if they could make another special grade.”

“Gross, Sho,” you gag, then pointing at the man, “Don’t respond to that.”

Predictably, you’re ignored, “But who would be worthy, Shoko? Huh?” Satoru snickers when you gag even louder, “It’d have to be another sorcerer, you know? Can’t just put a super baby in any ole lady.”

“I’m sure you could find someone for a good price,” Shoko leans onto her palm, “Some high up clan girl. A Zen’in? It’d make her life better by getting out of that place, I bet.”

“Can we not talk about this while I’m eating, please?” you gesture to your lunch, though you hardly have the appetite for it now anyway. 

“You can say you’re jealous,” Satoru teases into your ear, laying his head on your shoulder. There’s no warmth of skin to feel, and if you closed your eyes the weight wouldn’t be reasonable for a human head either -- much lighter. Airier. As if he isn’t there at all.

“I’m not jealous of not being your incubator, Gojo.”

“Harsh!” he dramatically clutches over his heart, sucking in a breath like he’d been stabbed, “What happened to first name privileges?”

“Revoked,” you flick his head knowing it’ll never land. Knowing he’ll never feel you.

Shoko simpers, long nails tapping against the creaky break room table. When you shoot over a quizzical glance, those nails stretch over her lips; covering so you alone can make out what she mouths: ‘jealous’. 

You mimic the motion to mouth back: ‘fuck you’.

“Hey,” Satoru wraps both arms around you (no warmth, no weight), “Secrets among friends is asking for trouble.”

“Donating out soldier serum is asking for trouble,” Shoto snickers.

“You suggested it!” 

You roll your eyes at the pair, hoping this was the last you would hear of Satoru’s semen stumper, “Well, I’d love to stick around, but you two are disgusting.”

“Boo,” Shoko wads up the shrink of her microwave meal and tosses it at your head.

“Boo!” Satoru echoes the sentiments louder, fingers clinging to your uniform until his long arms can stretch no further.

“Yeah, whatever!” you holler back, “As if the higher ups will even let you just donate!”

Those traditional old heads will want a “proper” heir, and there is no way Satoru would get suckered into that.

It’s part of why loving him is so difficult.

Because loving Satoru means having to share him: always. He is overwhelmingly busy between his work as a sorcerer and his passion as a mentor. Your love for him will forever be yours to own, but Satoru himself could never be.

Perhaps that’s what Suguru realized when he tried years ago, when Satoru was always gone and the space between them only grew. Perhaps that’s why he decided to close Satoru out completely.

“You actually gonna donate sperm?” Shoko returns her tired gaze to her friend, quirking a brow when he laughs and shakes out his phone.

“Nah, the geezers just keep pestering me,” he mimics a flapping mouth with his hand, “Blah, blah spreading the genes- blah, blah good of the clan. As if they care about the good of the clan.”

“They might,” she snorts, clapping a hand over her mouth to hide a grin.

Both of them know full well otherwise.

“I’m just gonna tell them,” he re-pockets his phone, purposefully ignoring the buzzing call of Gakuganji, “Face to face this time, so they can’t ignore it.”

“Ooh, yeah?”

“Yeah!”

“What’re you gonna say, big man?”

Satoru smiles bright, all cocky and sure and cool, “‘There is no way that you bags of bones will ever convince me to have kids.’”

. . .

A cold, soaked cotton pad is swiped over the triangle of your inner elbow, disinfecting the area before introducing a syringe.

You once asked Satoru why he bothered remaining a sorcerer under Jujutsu Tech when he obviously hates the higher-ups. His response, of course, was lackluster and chock full of holes (“Nobody else can do what I do,” he rolls his hand laxly, “Also, it's the only thing that doesn’t make me so bored I contemplate blowing my brains out.”).

You remember rolling your eyes with a single word reply, deeply unimpressed with his typical lack of tact (“Inspiring.”). Similarly, you remember thinking that you wanted to stay by his side, despite his annoying insensitivity.

When you got the panicked call from Shoko, you considered it a test. The universe cruelly examining your dedication. Ever the fool, you sped for the address she spat over the phone to prove yourself.

Now, you can’t even have the shame of reconsideration.

The bedroom has a camera in the far right corner, on the wall opposite a large observation mirror. Men in white coats pace back and forth, scribbling notes and judging every exact twinge in Satoru’s muscles. Satoru is positioned on a king bed with white sheets, hands latched behind his back in solid shackles with a radiant lock.

“He’s not hurt, right?”

“No,” the lead man steadies a needle to the sterilized juncture, “We never want to hurt Gojo,” his eyes flick up to the pinch in your face as the needle punctures your skin, “Or you.”

“He looks miserable…”

Three doctors turn to you, glaring. The man administering a blue, gluey serum into your veins sighs loudly, “Yes, well… you will be, too…”

The doctor folding your discarded clothes on the left scoffs, shaking his head.

Sometimes you spend so much time with Satoru that you forget how mean men can be.

“It should begin taking effect in just minutes,” the man steps back, letting one of his many assistants undo your tethers, “Mostly an additive,” he clarifies, “You don’t really need it, your stamina doesn’t matter much to us here. You can head in for him now.”

Your stamina may not matter to them, but you’d personally like to be awake as long as possible for this.

“Did you tell him it was me?”

Your question is ignored. So you step through the men and creep into the other room. Casting a curious glance over your shoulder to confirm the study window only reflects yourself. And Satoru.

Satoru.

Satoru.

The name is saccharine sweet in your mind. His head twists in your direction, blindfold gone and eyes comically wide. His eyes are dimmer than usual, though that isn’t very surprising when you were explicitly told the drug dampened cursed energy.

Your eyes rake over his body -- red and writhing and naked. Satoru’s gaze falls from your face to your chest to between your thighs, eyes widening further. You know he’s had partners before (lots of them, in fact), so the shock is unwarranted. Unless, of course, it’s because it’s you and not the random woman from a high up clan he assumed it’d be.

A stern voice breaks out from the far right corner of the room.

“He is willing.”

You gnaw your bottom lip anxiously, squinting through harsh overhead lights to the two-way mirror over your shoulder. Then, your eyes return to Satoru, knelt on the mattress and bare -sans the stocks cuffed around his wrist.

“Satoru…?” your face boils, gut fairing no better. Veins direct gutters for the goopy blue in your system, and it's pumping fast.

He copies your quiet, uttering your name through the still observation room, “You?”

“Is it…” you crawl onto the bed, convinced that his skin on yours could cure the overwhelming swelter in the room, “Am I okay?”

He nods limply, hair falling into crystalline eyes, “It’s you.”

Bright fluorescents dim to a more bearable, faint glow. Swallowing the last of your reservations with the swell in your throat, you turn your back to Satoru -- both knees firm on the plush mattress. 

Though his chest beats in sporadic, panicked breaths, Satoru’s lean hips are still -- perfect for reaching between your thighs and grasping his stood cock. He clenches his angel eyes shut to your flesh, but the waves and dips of your cursed energy stubbornly persist in his vision. He sees the wavering as your lust grows, he knows his is the same. Worse, even. So swallowed up in his belly by enforced desire that a stable flow is impossible to maintain.

Satoru is easy in your grasp, slipping inside you with whimpered pleas and huffs. You curve him into you, backing onto Satoru until your soft flesh is flush with his. Heat tickles up your spine, chilling at your neck and causing a rabid shiver all down your shoulders. 

Leaning forward onto your elbows, you slip over Satoru’s cock -- sliding along him with manufactured fervor (if you focus hard enough, you can still feel the needle incision stretch in your arm). 

The stocks rattle as Satoru jerks forward with a thick groan, hips now eager to pap, pap pap! onto yours. Bonds creak, splinters wailing in protest of his strength as he claws out to reach you. Satoru throws his head back, every sensitive nerve set ablaze just by the warmth and squeeze of your cunt.

His shortburst thrusts don’t dig far enough even though you’re kissing hips every time -- he feels overstimulated and yet unfulfilled. He needs to have both hands bound on your hips -squeezing the flesh on your bones and flipping and bending and making you keen under his lithe fingers.

He cannot discern if the need is driven by drooly chemical injection or longstanding affection, and he isn’t bothering himself with the question now. 

“Wanna touch,” he mumbles pathetically, red in the face and sweat beading down his forehead, white bangs slick to the skin, “Need it…” he gasps as you arch, stretching one of your legs to curl around his thigh, “Need to touch!"

As if spontaneously occurring to the crew that Satoru is pleading with them, the leading man jingles over with his key. He looks at the sedation team for extra assurance before unlocking Satoru’s stocks. 

Once the bonds clatter to the floor, Satoru is raking his nails across your body -- thighs, stomach, back, anywhere he can reach he’s eagerly clawing. Pulling and pushing before he collapses over you, his chest scorching your back. He stretches his neck to press his cheek to yours, lips loose and babbling,

“So good, so good, love how you feel -- wanna fuck you,” his brain must be falling through his lips because he seems to forget he’s already fucking you, “Wanna fuck you, wanna fuck you, wanna fuck you,” he lays sloppy kisses over your shoulder, teething at the sensitive bone, “Gonna let me cum in you, pretty girl? Yeah? Gonna make me a daddy, yeah?”

Hanging one arm below, he swirls the soft pads of his fingers over your clit -- soaked with the syrup his cock fucks free. His large hand expands over the pouch of your tummy to snugly press his thumb into your doughy skin; thumping where he’s battering your insides.

“Feel me there, mama? S’wet ‘n’ desperate, you want me bad,” he giggles deliriously, humping at your sex in plasticine frenzy before twitching to completion.

Satoru thinks he could go all day.

Thick arms tied around your waist, keeping your chest bare to his with both knees crimped over Satoru’s shoulders. His overconfidence proves itself as he thrusts up into you, lips pressing wetly onto yours while drooling out affectionate slurs,

“Best girl, pretty and hot and so fuckin’ wet for me, aren’t you? You love me, sweet girl? I think you do- know you do.”

Satoru stills only when more cum is pumped into your womb, pitiful mewls bobbing the apple of his throat.

You’re nodding with a heavy crown, forehead thumping into his sweaty collarbones and biting cresents in his biceps with your nails, “Uh-huh, uh-huh, uh-huh - love you, ‘Toru! Love you so much…!”

Nuzzling along your flaming cheek, Satoru wriggles you loose just to flip you around to kneel in the sheets.

“I’m tired,” he muses, fingers dancing in the baby hairs at the base of your neck, “How about you do something, princess?”

You groan and pout, but don’t disobey.

Your knees are tingling and arms shaking as you twist to nestle against Satoru. Stretching back, you splay your palms over his broad chest to balance over his standing cock; then reach between your spread legs to grasp his erection. Skin soft and warm in your palm, he whimpers at the contact and throws his head back into the plush white pillow. Snowy hair tousled against the case, hips twitching up in you.

His cock bumps against your clit in his desperation and the sensation makes you clamp your knees around his waist tighter. You’re all heavy breaths and whines by the time you finally sink base-down. His cock feels hot and thick inside you, you’re not sure if it's all the eyes or whatever they stuck in your arm or the fact you’re with Satoru but your entire body is simmering.

Satoru’s hands unwind from the sheets to cling around your hips, forcefully rocking you down on him: as if to grind both your bones into paste. Cool air catches in the back of his swollen throat, your cunt wet and swallowing him back in as he tries slipping out. He lifts his head -jaw limping open and drool pooling around his raw-bitten lips- just to watch as he lifts and drops you over his cock.

Clumsily, he jerks his knees up and feet flat on the bed as the lava scorching through his veins inspires him to fuck you faster. Sweat beading and swamping all along his hairline and joints, leaving his skin sticky and sucking against yours with every thrust. Satoru’s fingers squeeze harshly around the fat of your hips, marking the skin with plum stains in the shape of his hand. If a baby isn’t enough, then these bruises surely will be bountiful evidence of your tryst.

Suddenly, Satoru sits up fully, lips pressing into your shoulder before he stabs into bone and flesh with his teeth. His arms swiftly move to curl around your waist, flushing your back to his chest as he pumps into you. One of his hands finds your breast, squishing the swells by the handful, and the other hand swooping to toy with your clit. He works slow circles into quicker swishes, thrusts speeding as the heat climbs and climbs from where he’s inside you up to your necks. Suffocating. Enveloping. 

Ragged breaths pull with terrible effort from both you and Satoru. Wet slaps of skin and syrupy squelching echoing in the otherwise still room. Oddly, the sound is far from grotesque, instead spurring another sweetened gush around Satoru. The dirty, primal nature far overshadows the lurking men in white coats around the edges of the room.

You can almost pretend you’re wrapped around Satoru for real pleasure rather than duty.

Again, Satoru sloppily mouths at your skin, from the bend in your shoulder along your neck and unto the softness of your jaw. Arms clenching around your waist until you’re practically immobile in his embrace, bouncing along his cock only because he puppeteers you to do so. 

Satoru moans hotly against the slope of your neck, licking the sweat off your skin just because he can. You lean into the coolness of Satoru’s tongue as your gut swirls and tightens before you’re seizing in the man’s grasp. His gaping mouth is pressed against your collarbone, slobber inking across your tit and down your arm. He hugs you tighter and soaks in full the clench of your orgasm, continuing to lathe his fingers over your clit until you’re jerking and huffing in overstimulation.

You think you hear him muttering (you hope you hear him muttering), “Thank you, thank you, thank you...”

The unbearable heat is replaced by normal, merely uncomfortable heat. Satoru cuddles you against him still as he plugs you with his cum.

Soft murmurs float back into your ears, men stretching necks to gaze at the both of you and whisper amongst themselves. Satoru lazily drags the sheets high over your chest and settles back against the steely headboard. 

He yelps, back arching and eyes wide, sitting upright from the board.

“What…?” you groan, exhaustion overtaking you -- limbs numb and strewn out uselessly.

“It’s cold,” he grumbles into your ear, yawning and laying against the metal headboard again (this time prepared for the stinging temperature change), “Be nice to me.”

Weakly, you make a sound of protest from the back of your throat. Brain too fried to form words.

Satoru caresses his fingers gently over your stomach, gaze fluttering to the labcoats stiffly remaining in the room. They put much effort into avoiding his stare, heads kept low and ducking behind their collars. Rolling onto his side, Satoru keeps you caged in his arms while shielding you from the mens’ stares. 

He soothes his nails along the bulb of your cheek, six eyes searing through every layer of skin and muscle down to the beating of your heart. He knows, of course, that it beats for him.

Which makes him feel sick, beneath exasperated euphoria, because he knows why you’re here.

He knows the only way to give it back is with a baby neither of you really want.

[steddieas-shegoes]

⚡⚡for the drabble⚡⚡

"I think I'm gonna puke."

"It's not that bad, Eds."

The crowd was much larger than he expected, especially for such a small venue.

When Corroded Coffin got the gig, they were told it was hit or miss how many people would show.

"It's a nice place, but small, and with the show on a Tuesday night, you could end up with 10 people," the manager of the event warned.

But the manager of the event was wrong.

There were at least 500 people shoved like sardines in the small outdoor space. All of them chanting for the next band.

His band.

"I think I'm gonna puke."

"It's not that bad, Eds," Steve said from behind him.

He turned around, glaring at his boyfriend.

"You're not the one who has to go on stage in less than two minutes," Eddie poked his chest.

"Do you think I don't get nervous when you go out there?" Steve smirked. "You think I'm not worried about you guys messing up or getting booed off the stage or the entire stage collapsing under you?"

"Oh, god, has this stage been checked? Is it stable?"

Eddie hadn't even thought of the fact that it could collapse under them. How old was this stage? Could it handle the weight of the equipment and them?

Steve's hands were on his face, eyes soft but determined.

"Those are my worries to hold. Your only worry should be making sure you have fun with the guys and put on the best show you can. No puking, either. Please."

Eddie nodded slowly, looking over Steve's shoulder at Gareth walking towards them.

"Kiss for luck?" Eddie asked.

Steve rolled his eyes but gave him a quick peck on the lips.

"I'll be right here with my earplugs. You can do this, baby."

"Yeah, baby, you can do this. And if you can't, then we'll sacrifice you on stage or something," Gareth joked as he walked by.

"Shut up!" Eddie yelled to him, not taking his eyes off of Steve.

"Give it all you got, Eds."

"You got it, sweetheart."

[mitamicah]

Now that the Nace girlies has been fed may I get your (and other baby boos') attention for me moment :3?

As you may know I will be joining 2 Joker Out gigs in March. As some of you that met me on the kä��rijä EU tour might also know I had some custom stickers with me at those gigs I attended, and since it was this big a success I want to do it again.

And so the upcoming week(s) I will be focusing my time on making a new set of stickers this time with the Joker Out boys :D!!

The plan is to start of with making one for each member (to get back into the flow) and one for each gig I'm attending which will be

Helsinki day 2 (03/03 2024)

Malmö (03/15 2024)

Here's where I need your help.

So far I have ideas for only 4 out of the 7 stickers and only two of said four ideas are sketched yet. (see picture below)

If you guys have any suggestions for what would make a good sticker for any bandmember but Kris and Bojan + the two gigs hit me!!

I am especially looking for ideas including Jure, Nace, and the Malmö gig (since for Jan I am tempted to do 'sparklative' and for Helsinki I am pretty sure I will do 'three kaksin ananas lonkero')

That's all ^V^

Again, feel free to throw ideas at me :3 I myself will probably spend tomorrow "researching" (watching the documentaries again and maybe some interviews?) so we'll see what happpens xD

Sketches I have so far:

[rosetta-j-stone]

This is going to be EPIC, hope everyone who's going has the BEST time <3

Happy rrrruisrock week!!!

[rosetta-j-stone]

(10:00 AM CET...in case anyone needed a reminder lol)

[drugsforaddicts]

hi, a sad bojere bitch here. it's my first time speaking up at the support group👋👋

the fact that Jere doesn't seem to be interested in JO songs regularly makes me stare into the void with 1000 yard stare.

like, there's a solid chunk of your beloved Bojan's soul in those songs. if you even care.

but for real, I'm choosing to believe that we get to see/know just 1% of all that's happening between them.

because knowing for sure that Jere's brain chemistry is never gonna be changed by hearing (and understanding) Padam is just too sad to bear.

Hello! Welcome to the group gathering my dear anon 💛

And oh boy, I'm right with you there, staring into the void because hhnnnggghhhh. I once again have to bring up Häärijä into this, since I've had the chance to banter with him quite a few times now, but right after the first JO Tavastia gig, when me and @btw-it-also-travels-in-time were talking with Mark, Häärijä suddenly came up to talk with us too and I jokingly asked him "Well, you guys know all the songs now?" and he just went (again lmao) "Nope, just know Carpe Diem and SSOL" 💀 I promise you I will strangle them one day (affectionately). BUT there is a photo of Jere holding Umazane Misli SO I'm on my knees, praying that he has actually listened to the songs after the JO Nordic tour and looked up the lyrics (or just asked Bojan to translate them to him, since he is probably fluent in Finnish already). Or I will just send the Finnish translations to his fan mail and make him read and listen because I'm T I R E D. He needs to know what's up. He needs to suffer like the rest of us baby boos do.

[rosetta-j-stone]

One year since this gig!!! Still so proud of our boys for this.

[ENG SUB] Joker Out in Stožice: how it all began (04.09.2022)

Today marks one year since Stožice! To celebrate this milestone, throughout the day we'll be posting content from that time.

On September 4th, 2022, Joker Out announced their first concert in one of Slovenia's most important arenas, Stožice, to be held a year later, by posting this video of Bojan's speech after their sold-out gig in Cvetličarna a year prior on their Instagram page (@joker_out_official)

Transcript, translation and subtitles by a member of JokerOutSubs, review by Drumbeat, proofreading by IG Gboleyn123.

On YouTube, the video is also available with:

🇷🇸 Serbian subs IG marija_rocen

🇮🇹 Italian subs by @vesdagrem

🇫🇷 French subs by @yoda-bor

[yeniasworld]

Listen, the world ain't crumbling—it's just serving a major reboot, hunty. This ain’t the end; it's the glow-up before the slay! And sure, it’s got some *spooky season* vibes, but sis, let’s be real, safety’s as common as a drag queen on Sunday brunch—*you just gotta know where to look*. I feel the fear too, chile, but we stay fierce. And yes, I wish mama and my twin could catch up with my vibe, but they’re busy stuck on AM while I’m out here beaming FM, okay?! They ain't on the right frequency to guide this queen. God? Ha, honey, she’s got me on a *solo* mission, putting me through these gag-worthy tests, no shortcuts—just raw **boss energy**.

Now let's get something crystal clear: I’m beyond thankful to be *queer as f****! Gay, femme, maybe even about to snatch my *she* card—who knows, who cares?! The LGBTQ+ fam got me feeling all my oats. Whether I’m turning looks, giving body, or summoning my inner goddess on the dance floor—I’m living in my truth, no filter, honey. The **gurls** like MJ, Bey, and Chris? Baby, y’all stay clocking them so tight, they can’t even let loose in their own performances. But me? I’m untouchable, hunnnnnyyyy! God broke these chains, showed me the blueprint, and now I’m walking in divine realness—free from the churchy nonsense, the hocus pocus, and all those played-out beliefs. It’s just *me*, snatched and spiritually stacked.

And witches? Child, we’re all witches, warlocks, whatever—*don’t get it twisted*. Everyone has the power to manifest their own damn destiny. Energy doesn’t play. It’s serving facts, whether you're working light or dark—because let’s be real, intention is everything. You wanna spook people? Talk about *magic* and watch them clutch their pearls, but guess what, boo? Religion’s been doing its own flavor of witchcraft for eons.

Now here’s the real tea—is any of this even real? Sis, I’m deep into this **awakening gig** and low-key shook at how much freedom I’ve been handed. But I love myself too much to be pressed by anyone’s rules. I’m playing this game on my terms, sliding in and out when I want to. Periodt. The world is giving *Big Reveal* energy right now, and only a few of us are seeing it. The gag is—*we all* got the power. Every last one of us. You can call it what you want, but honey, free will and manifestation? That’s the real black magic, and not everybody’s ready for that. **But I am**. 👑

[rosetta-j-stone]

THEY DID IT <3

SZIGET will be so good next year!!! I can’t wait.

MAINSTAGE?????

From Bojan’s Jure’s Connor’s instagram story 2023.12.12.

[lupatterson]

picky eater • l.p

a/n : so i’m new here and don’t really know what i’m doing yet, but i hope you enjoy. let me know if you want part two because i already have some ideas.

•••

you had always been a picky eater, making sure to smell your food before eating it and needing to know the ingredients before letting it anywhere near your tastebuds. it was often a topic of conversation and a soft spot to land a few verbal punches in the form of mocking from those who knew you. you would defend yourself to a point before giving up and just taking the comments. you never thought that such a topic that was usually used jokingly could morph into one that would sting your eyes with tears at the mere thought.

•••

“boo.”

a pair of strong arms wrap around your hips from behind, the warm air escaping his body and gently brushing the few strands of hair beside your ear.

you tilt your head to rest against his shoulder and the world’s most perfect smile is the first thing to catch your attention. next is the tiniest sprinkle of freckles and sun spots dusted across his lightly tanned skin. then there’s his nose that never fails to have a crinkle that can vary in the number and intensity of wrinkles depending on how strongly a certain emotion needs to be expressed. it’s followed by the wisp of eyelashes beautifully spaced and just the right length. finally, the hazel eyes that can’t decide whether they want to be a shade of green or light amber, so they decide to take turns and look breathtakingly beautiful each and every time your gaze is set upon them.

you reach one hand behind to gently comb through the brunette locks found just above the nape of his neck, his gorgeous eyes fluttering as a result. your other hand is resting at your waist as well, only it is placed on top of the ring-clad ones currently clutching them.

“hi, my love.” his voice. the rich tone only further hypnotizing every corner of your brain to the point where everything else is too hard to think about, the one that can increase in vibrato if he’s especially excited and the one that only darkens in the early hours of the morning due to the lack of use overnight.

“hi, baby.” the fingers at the back of his neck twirl the finer hairs there around and around, weaving in and out, being smoothed over and then rustled again. as if his smile couldn’t get anymore perfect, the nickname falling from your lips inspired it to spread a little wider and displaying a few more beautifully crafted teeth.

you feel the both of your bodies start to sway side to side gently, the empty ballroom of the orpheum feeling peaceful with only the two of you. you turn your gaze back to the stage, the very stage that your best friends will be playing on in mere hours. the smile never leaves your face, the pride you feel for your boys is always too much to keep concealed.

“i can’t believe this. i have everything i have ever wanted. just doesn’t feel real.” you can feel the rumble of his words against your back, the vibrations radiating from his strong chest.

“i’m so unbelievably proud. you’ve all given so much of yourselves for this and to be able to be by your sides when it all plays out, i’m blessed.”

and it’s true. the boys have done so much to accomplish their goal in pursuing music. it’s the one place where they connect and truly feel at home, and to be able to do that together has proven to strengthen their bond as not only friends, but brothers. you’ve been there the whole way, having been their friend since kindergarten and becoming a sort of manager to the group, finding them as many gigs as possible to display their talent.

he gently spins you using the hands at your waist, your hands finding a home on his warm chest and his cupping your face. he pulls you close enough to rest his forehead onto yours, the action feeling natural and safe. he has always made you feel safe.

“we’re the ones who are blessed. we’re blessed to have you by our side with endless support for our dreams. you must realize that we couldn’t have done any of this without you. we owe you. I owe you everything, love.”

the words cause a slight blush to rise up your neck to your cheeks, the love behind them leaving you absolutely speechless. he was always able to do that. the smile on your lips spreads exponentially and you bite your bottom lip to contain some of the emotions evoked from his words. his thumb reaches up and gently traces the bitten lip, tugging it free and letting his hand fall to your neck in order to tilt your head in his direction. your hands are moving too, one cupping his firm shoulder and the other returning to the nape of his neck as he pulls you into his lips.

you hope that even though you were rendered speechless by his words, that he could feel your words through this kiss. and by the way he is reciprocating, you can tell he got the message.

you gently pull away, foreheads still connected and lips still brushing each other every few seconds.

“promise me something?” your words are spoken in a whisper.

“anything.”

your eyes open to wander the sights of his beautiful irises.

“promise that...that you’ll never leave me behind?”

a flash of pain crosses his eyes, hurt that you would ever consider the idea of him leaving you. he has a subtle shake of his head before tightening his grip on your neck and cheek just the slightest and the crinkle in his nose worsens from the possibility of not having you there.

“never, i promise. you’re my brightest shining star.”

•••

the last chords to “now or never” ring out into the empty venue, your eager claps accompanied by another set of hands from the back tables. the girl wiping down the tables watched the boys on the stage with an expression of being impressed and simultaneously surprised, she probably hadn’t expected four teenage boys to be so incredibly talented.

the sweaty teens still bouncing with adrenaline quickly set their instruments down and make their way off the stage. luke, who has quite literally bounced his way to you, is almost frantic in his actions when pulling you in a hug only to quickly pull away.

“did you see us? did you see that? that was amazing! i want to do that for the rest of my life. baby, that was my favorite thing in the world-“

you can’t help but laugh at his jumbled words, his excitement causing him to vibrate in his place. you just smile and listen to his words of pure merriment, not being able to bring yourself to stop him. he finally notices your gaze on him and gives a sheepish smile when he realizes how much word vomit he spewed out. he plays with the rings on your fingers with the same smile and tries to take deep breaths to calm himself.

“i-i’m sorry for the rambling, baby. i just got so excited, it’s like something comes over me when i’m playing music. i don’t know what it is but the closest i can get is that it’s attached to my soul and it gives me a sense of belonging that i’ve never felt before, except for when i’m with you and i-“

you cut him off with a kiss, his touch quickly changing from your hands to your face. you pull away all too quickly, a quiet whine making it’s way out of his mouth at your absence.

“you were absolutely amazing, babe. you belong up there. and please don’t ever apologize to me for being happy. i want to hear everything and if that means listening to your rambling for the rest of my life, i will gladly do so. plus, just imagine this place brimming with people tonight. talk about an adrenaline rush, huh?”

he smiles wide at your reassurance and pulls you in for another kiss. his sweat drenched body is pressed against yours but you don’t really mind because you appreciate his closeness and touch.

“oi, lovebirds! we’re going to get some food before the show. we’re thinking street dogs?”

reggie and alex make their way over to you both, having left bobby attempting to flirt with the girl wiping the tables.

your nose scrunches at the idea of the hotdogs various vendors on the streets make and sell, their composition surely not being healthy.

“you boys know you shouldn’t eat before a show, it could make you sick. do you really wanna jeopardize the show of your dreams?”

the boys all share a glance with each other before letting out laughs and chuckles.

“nice try, but just because you’re a picky eater isn’t a good enough reason for us to not get a bite to eat. we need our strength. plus, this could be the last street dog we ever have.” reggie says the words jokingly of course, poking fun at your eating habit.

you sigh and turn to your best friends. you could go on about how you have a pit in the bottom of your stomach that indicates to you that something is wrong, but you know they would just blame it on the fact that thinking about eating a street dog is what made it so upset. instead of putting up a fight, you cave in once again.

“okay, but you have to promise this is the last one. like, ever.”

“cross my heart and hope to die.” the three of them say nearly in unison, and the pit in your stomach seemingly deepens.

•••

“that’s what i’m talking about!” luke’s arm around your shoulder tightens as the door to the back of the venue is pushed open and the cold air pushes against your faces.

“the smell of sunset boulevard?” alex wittily replies.

the look luke gives him makes you giggle, and you’re not the only one as reggie next to you chuckles and shakes his head a bit.

“no, it’s what we felt in there. our music, it’s like an energy that connects us with people. they can feel us when we play. i want that connection with everybody.”

he pulls alex and reggie in closer, the four of you scrunched together and you lightly cringed at the combined smell of the sweaty teens compressed to your body.

“then we’re going to need more t-shirts.” reggie points his thumb towards the shirt you’re currently sporting and the boys all laugh.

you marvel at the line of people waiting just outside the orpheum, luke putting his hood up to make sure no one recognized him. you squeeze his hand as you cross the street, his eyes connecting with yours and unsaid words being shared with just a glance. you stand on your tiptoes to whisper in his ear.

“i love you, rockstar.”

he turns his head to kiss your temple where he whispers against your skin affectionately.

“i love you more than you could ever imagine, my love.”

•••

you watch as the boys piled different condiments from the back of someone’s car onto their hot dogs. the feeling that something is wrong is still there but you brush it off. they’ve had plenty of street dogs before, surely this won’t hurt.

“are you sure, boys? after the show, we’ll probably have enough money to spare to grab a couple of pizzas. good quality pizzas from a restaurant, not a car.”

“chill out, babe. it’s just one hot dog. it’s tradition.” luke couldn’t see the look on your face as he was topping the hot dog, but once he turned he quickly became concerned. he reached out for you, you fitting into his side comfortably. “baby, what’s wrong?”

“i don’t have a good feeling, lu. something is wrong. i don’t know what, but something is. please believe me.”

a wrinkle forms between his eyebrows, his eyes are darting back and forth between yours and the hotdog in his other hand before looking up to the boys. alex is saying something to the guy selling the hotdogs and reggie is continuing to heap various items onto his.

“i believe you, baby. if it’s about the hotdogs, i’ll only eat half of mine. then once we’re done here, we’ll go find something for you to eat. okay, love?” he begins to brush hair out of your face and behind your ear, still seeing the pleading look in your eyes. you decide that you should believe in his words like he does yours and you gently nod your head. he offers you a smile before pressing a kiss to your forehead and leading you over to the old couch in the alleyway.

reggie and alex plop down next to the two of you, you being cuddled into luke’s side and resting your head on his upper shoulder.

“this is awesome, you guys. we’re playing the orpheum!” luke breathily laughs and shakes his head, alex and reggie both looking over to him to smile in excitement.

“i can’t even count how many bands have played here and then ended up being huge.” reggie smiles and pushes a breath through his nose in the form of a laugh, proud of his friends and their shared accomplishments.

“we’re gonna be legends.” you glance up to see luke’s ecstatic expression as he talks about the future and can’t help but imagine it with him. you want a future with him and your best friends, and you want it to be filled with more of those dreams coming true.

“eat up, boys. because after tonight, everything changes.” the boys ‘toast’ with their street dogs and you watch as they all take their first bite. it makes your cringe but you try to remain happy for them.

you just keep reminding yourself of their promise, that this is the last one ever.

•••

you don’t know whether it was alex’s comment about the flavor of the street dog or reggie’s attempt at reassurance when he remarks that street dogs haven’t killed them yet, but it was definitely the look on luke’s face after his first bite that convinced you that something is wrong.

“lu, what is it?” he wipes the expression off of his face as soon as he hears your concern, trying to mask that he knows something is wrong too.

“nothing, babe.” when he saw your unconvinced look, he squeezed your hand in his to lessen your worry. “i promise. see?” he proceeds to take another bite, and another, and another, until he has almost finished the hotdog entirely.

“you said you were only going to eat half, luke. what are you doing?”

“it was simply too good to throw away.” he says this sarcastically, ignoring how sick he suddenly feels in order to convince you of his condition being perfectly intact.

you see through his act, you’ve always been able to. you notice how his nose gets a little bit runnier, and it’s not because of the cold night air. you see the slight tremble in his upper lip and the sweat beading on his forehead. you take in the panicked look in his eyes and watch how his face contorts to one of pain as he drops your hand to clutch his stomach. you see that something is so very wrong.

“lu? what’s happening? luke!”

you turn to your best friends who are not much better. reggie has tears rolling down his cheeks and he’s unusually pale. alex, who was slower at eating his hotdog, was trying to take in a breath as his anxiety kicked in while also clutching his stomach in pain. your eyes blur with tears as you start to freeze up, your mind not having an answer on what was happening or what to do to help them.

“someone call an ambulance! we need an ambulance!”

you weren’t even sure the words came from your mouth, every action taking awhile to process in the midst of your panic. your gaze falls back onto luke who is only getting progressively worse. he groans in consistent pain throughout his body, and he feels like his skin is on fire. you move the hood off his head and brush the hair sticking to his forehead away.

“i-i’m sorry. i’m so sorry, baby. i’m so sorry.” luke’s words come out as cries, and the tears fall in a constant stream from both of your faces.

“shhh, it’s okay. just stay with me, please. please, lu.” your words are broken and hiccups interrupt the syllables as you hold his face and pull his body close to yours.

you can hear the ambulance in the distance and you can only assume one of the bystanders you yelled out to called them to your location.

you quickly look to your other friends, grasping reggie’s hand to assure him that you’re still there. he turns his head to you, his bloodshot eyes leaking tears making direct contact with you. he squeezes your hand with one while the other hovers over his heart that is aching in his chest.

“i’m right here, reg. i’m right here.” you try to smile for him, but the most you can manage is biting your bottom lip to avoid letting out a sob.

“i’m scared. i’m so scared.” reggie’s voice is gravelly and filled with sobs as he refuses to let go of your hand.

“i know, reg. but i’m right here and help is coming. they can help you, okay?” he weakly nods to your question and closes his eyes to conserve some of his energy. “you have to stay awake, reg. keep squeezing my hand, okay? so I know you’re awake.” you feel a light squeeze and advert your eyes to alex on your other side.

“alex, please tell me you’re awake. alex?” you place your available hand on his face, and he flinches the slightest bit.

“it hurts. it hurts so bad. why does it hurt this much? what’s-what’s happening to us?” alex can barely speak, his words breathy and low in volume. like reggie, he’s pale and gleams in sweat. the tears in your eyes keep coming and you brush away the tears on his cheeks.

“i-i don’t know, al. help is coming though. do you hear that? just keep listening to that sound okay? can you tap my leg to the beat of it? can you do that for me?” he nods and you feel the weak taps on your leg and reggie’s squeezing of your hand is there but getting weaker. you move back to luke to see that his condition has severely deteriorated.

you gasp at the lack of sun kissed pigment to his now pale skin and the tears that are collecting on his lengthy lashes. the eyes you fell in love with are now closed and the pit in your stomach returns with the weight being tenfold of its original. you take your available hand and bring it to his face, almost retracting it at the heat of his skin.

“baby? luke, you have to stay awake. please, you have to stay awake. luke? luke!” the volume of your voice makes his eyelids flutter, similar to when you play with the hair at the back of his neck or kiss the top of his nose. “lu, you promised. you promised you’d never leave me behind. please.”

he opens his eyes to gaze at you, weakly raising his hand to your cheek as the ambulance makes its arrival. medics begin pouring out of the ambulance and assessing the situation.

“please help them, please.”

you glance over to see them checking reggie’s vitals, him releasing your hand in the process. his eyes are still closed but his tears are mostly dry, leaving you to assume the worst.

you become aware of the gradually slow tapping halting to a stop as they lift alex onto a stretcher.

you try to keep eyes on the boys while they take luke from your hold, but you make sure to grasp his hand before they are able to completely rip him away from you. before they can take your safety, your love, your everything, away from you.

there are things being shouted and people crowding the scene but everything else seems to filter out as reggie and alex are loaded up first. luke is coming next but something brings you out of your haze and that something is a paramedic yelling the words “we’re losing him.”

you’re suddenly pushed out of the way and find yourself completely crumbling inside and out. they’re not losing him, you’re losing him.

you’re losing him.

“please, save him. you have to save him.” you can only repeat those words before choruses of “no” are exhaled with each heavy breath.

they move him into the ambulance, and you force your way in beside them despite any protests that there might have been. someone is pushing on his chest and another is using a bag to push air into his mouth but it seems that they aren’t working.

suddenly, “he’s gone. we have to help the others,” is leaving their lips and time starts to freeze bit by bit.

by the time you process the sentences, they leave luke’s side to tend to reggie.

“come on, come on. BP’s dropping.”

there’s a few moments of working on the teen before another voice begins to speak.

“we lost him. what about the blonde?”

“he’s awake.”

“are they gone? are they both gone?” that voice brought you back to your body. you turn to see alex very weakly thrashing against the medics to see reggie and luke. his eyes meet yours and if you weren’t already numb, you would have broken in two at the sorrow contained in his eyes alone. “they’re gone. they-they’re actually gone.” he sobs out. his tears are rushing down and you reach for his hand even though all you want to do is hug him.

he suddenly becomes short of breath again and lets go of your hand, body becoming unresponsive and the medics rushing to try to stabilize him.

no, not you too.

“he-he’s gone too. all of them are gone.”

•••

you had always been a picky eater, and it had always been something to joke about. until it wasn’t. until you blamed yourself for not eating something that could have kept you with the love of you life and best friends.

until it saved your life and not theirs.

[mitamicah]

This might be an unpopular opinion and/or get me into deep waters with the rest of the kääryleet and baby boos:

I feel iffy about all the live streams from the concerts recently

Sure, it makes sense that people would like to go for a live stream for a don't-miss-it event like the finnish leg of JO's nordic tour or when YLE livestreamed the Black Box welcome-home gig - in those cases it is understandable.

But for a qoute-on-qoute "normal" concert?

Maybe I am too old to understand the appeal but tbh I would rather know that the people there are enjoying the concert (maybe only taking a few pictures or videos as a memory for themselves) than having people feel obligated to film the whole concert to share on social media.

it shouldn't be a requirement to share every single second with the rest of us, if you ask me. We're already blessed with so many snippets and pictures from every show, we can go without having a live stream happening for every single käärijä or joker out gig

Feel free to disagree with me, it is a very old person opinion, I know 😅

[rosetta-j-stone]

A valid question honestly

[bangtanlalaland]

around the way girl | knj (m.)

synopsis ↳namjoon kim was the man you’d fallen in love with in college, while existing in a society where ambw relationships are rare.

→part of the bring it back collection!

— 1990’s!au; strangers to lovers!au

→pairing: underground rapper!kim namjoon x beauty supply store worker!black female reader

→genre: fluff, smut

→word count: 4.7k+

→contents ⨯ warnings: that beautiful, interracial love (AMBW) [if you’re racist, fuck off my page!] some major fluff action here, joon is so soft, (I stg he’s a dom but also a hopeless romantic. the DUALITY. agsgsjlldlejd), rapper joon makes an appearance, sweet love making, name calling (cute shit, I promise), also the use of DADDY, lots of kissing and caressing, body worshiping, oral (f receiving), protected sex (no glove, no love baby), fingering, over-stimulation, namjoon is so inspired by hip hop culture, y’all I tried really hard to sprinkle some 90′s vibes in there so bare with me ok,

a/n: heyyyy loves! I wanted to do something different, considering that I hardly come across any fics (specifically BTS) with a woc or simply a black reader. so here’s one to all of my beautiful, black queens out there! much love to you all & I want you to know I am here & stand with you.  

song rec: “around the way girl” by ll cool j

☞ disclaimer: If any of the warnings listed above offends you in any way, please do not read. It is not my intention to start any sort of debate/argument in regards to racism, culture appropriation, etc. Therefore if any characters, settings, and/or facts/statements are incorrect, please disregard. However, this body of text is for entertainment purposes only. All characters, settings, scenarios, and dialogue are fictitious. Any similarity to events or persons, whether living or dead, is coincidental.

It was like a movie, from start to finish. Growing up, times were hard and challenges never ceased to fade. But, you pushed through — the good, the bad, and the ugly. Lost ones along the way, realized you couldn’t trust everyone, but you grew. As an independent, young, black woman living in America. And then something happened, that changed everything.

The year of 1998, when fall semester classes at your college just ended, which called for finding a seasonal job for the time being. And that’s how you ended up working at Queen Beauty Supply about two blocks from your place. You grew up knowing Mr. Park (who is the owner and now your boss) all your life. As you were a child, your mother supported his business, always stocking up on flexi rods, Just for Me relaxers, Goody brushes, and all. Even the endless amounts of barrette balls of every color you could think of, she made sure you had. And seeing that you blossomed, Mr. Park was more than honored to hire you for a seasonal gig. You loved him as if he was your family, just as well as he loved you.

It all started that one evening when you worked the register, fancy-ing some Poetic Justice-style braids, showcasing your figure with a halter top and mom jeans. A small stereo behind you blared the latest hits on the radio, Jon B currently on play. You flipped through the latest issue of Word Up! Magazine, admiring the new spread that featured Mya, Monica, and Brandy — your two in. acrylic, nails dragging across the pages. The sound of the bell jingles over the door, indicating the arrival of a customer. Your gaze turns up to greet said customer, and your eyes meet with the fellow that entered.

And damn were you blown away for a hot sec. He was cute, really cute. You hadn’t even realized he asked you something, while standing in front of you on the opposite side of the counter. He’s Asian, obviously. His eyes having told it all. They were different, not shaped like yours, but beautiful. Which was intriguing. But him simple being here in a beauty supply store was interesting, Yes, it’s ironic. The owner himself being Asian, but the intended audience is your fellow black folks. You could tell he’s obviously inspired by your culture since he sported a bucket hat and a loose, white tee that may have been just two sizes too big for him — which is rare nowadays to find on an Asian man. But, you don’t question it. Of course, you’re well aware people of all races are influenced by hip hop culture so in a way, it doesn’t surprise you as much. Okay, maybe a little. But still.

“Can I help you?” His eyes did a weird thing, but it was cute. He was cute.

“Do you have du-rags here?” Your eyebrows raise and head cocks to the side, having abandoned the magazine you were just reading.

“What do you want with a du-rag?” You question, knowing well the texture of his hair can’t form into waves, so you suppose it’s for a fashion statement. He starts blushing, his eyes shut and beautiful pearly whites on display. Damn, did he have you hooked on the spot and you didn’t even know his name yet. You had to hurry up and get him out of here for your own sake, so you took the lead. A few beats passed before he realized you were leading the way to what he needed. He stumbled a little.

“It’s uh- For my performance,” He slips, trailing behind you while passing by the rows of hair-care products, leading towards the back of the store.

“Performance? You dance?” You question, while strutting down the row of where the brushes, combs, barrettes and the jewelry wall was displayed — purposely swaying your hips back and forth just a tad too much for dramatic effect. He definitely noticed, his eyes glued to your form and wondering how your jeans could mold those curves so perfectly.

He blushes at the thought but replies, “I’m a rapper,” And that’s when you stop in your tracks, flipping your braids behind your back and placing your hand on your hip, giving him the same expression that you gave at the counter.

“A rapper?” You ask, while taking him in from head to toe. You notice his white Air Force Ones.

Damn, he is so fine.

He has style, you’ll admit that. But an Asian rapper? That’s unheard of, at least in your neighborhood.

“Do you, boo.” You shrug, while gesturing toward the wall on your left, that displayed various colors of du-rags. You step away to return to the register and then he speaks again.

“What about Blue Magic?” As if he hadn’t surprised you enough, you cross your arms, facing him.

“Well…. it depends on what you want.” You pause, and roll on your heels to walk again, he follows behind you.

“We have coconut oil, but the hair food is out of stock right now. The hair and scalp treatment is limited quantity, but we do have Castor Oil and Super Sure Gro.” You arrive at the row of hair care products, with numerous brands of oils, treatments, and more that cover the shelves. After leaving him there, you admired the way his eyes were shot wide, and you knew damn well he was not 100% sure of what he was looking at — as he searched for the product that piqued his interest.

And so it became a regular occurrence. He’d come in at least once every two weeks, buying the same thing. A du-rag and Super Sure Gro. Some days you’d even be a little extra to “up” your appearance, in hopes he’d notice or in some fantasy world, he’d compliment you. Maybe even ask about you or your day. Or if you’d like to go watch a movie with him or even hit up a spot for some good food. You ponder if he’d be into trying soul food someday. Your mom always did say that a way into a man’s heart is through his stomach. Well, more-so implying that you should know how to get down and dirty in the kitchen.

—

The bell jingles again, while you’re out on the floor stocking up the shelves with bottles of Luster’s Pink Oil Formula. Reaching below into the box to grab a few more bottles, you hadn’t noticed he was towering above you. You jumped slightly when you meet eyes with him, nearly dropping the contents you held onto.

“Don’t you know not to run up on a black woman like that? I may be little, but I can kick your ass!” You both break out into a contagious laugh. He stuffs his hands into his baggy jeans of his, that gorgeous smile spreads across his face. He clears his throat,

“I- Uh- I’m- I’m sorry, I-”

You shake it off, “You’re fine, boo.” Your hand finds its way into his shoulder, a light rub as you brush past him to head for the register. He hesitates, trailing behind you as he fights for the right words to say.

“I-I just, I-” You reach the front of the counter and turn to make eye contact with him. Your eyebrows raise slightly, taking in how he’s struggling to piece his words together. You place your hand on his shoulder again and note how he gazes at you with those same wide eyes you’d grown familiar with over the past few weeks. His lips parted slightly as if he was going to say something but didn’t.

“It’s okay-” You trail off, in hopes he’d catch on.

“Oh, right. N-namjoon. My name is Namjoon.”

You smile in response, lightly rubbing his arm with your palm.

“Is there…. Something you want to say? I promise, I don’t bite,” You state with a soft smile. You notice his shoulders easing themselves down. Part of you wonders what he was so tense for.

“You should come to my performance-” He says rapidly then pauses, looking down and then back up to you, “I would like it- I mean I think that you- You would like my performance.” He internally hates himself for being shy around you, his cheeks so tight and raised from smiling hard, and you could have literally melt in that moment. You thought it was cute to see him that way. To know you made him feel all flustered.

There was a grand amount of effort he’d built to approach you. The very, first day he arrived at the store, he wanted to say something then. He went home that night rehearsing how he’d spark up a conversation with you. He even recalls one time he’d seen you at a bus stop sucking on a lollipop, and how tempted he was to say something then. But he couldn’t. He was afraid of rejection, and he wasn’t sure how to approach you. So when he’d visit the beaut store and see your face, he’d grow warm on the inside. And when you would make eye contact with him, his heart would stop. When you would speak to him with that sweet voice of yours, he’d freeze.

So when you said yes you would be there, he cried afterwards. Not in front of you of course, but on the bus back to his place. He couldn’t believe that you didn’t reject him. Throughout the weeks, he’d contemplated because he didn’t know how you felt about people of his race. He didn’t know how your race felt about people like him in general. Although, it never mattered to him. Because he believed that love is love. As long as you’re happy with that person, that is all what truly matters. He believed everyone deserves to have that kind of love. Little did he know, you felt the same way.

And then things advanced between the two of you.

It was the night he invited you to an underground party, and it was live. Music thumped with never-ending bass, people danced and smoked, and the space felt warm and cluttered, courtesy of body heat. You gradually ease your way through the space, attempting to find some kind of “safe haven” amongst the grinding, moving bodies within the cramped atmosphere. The music settles down, which causes you to look ahead, realizing you’re in front of the stage where the DJ is posted up on the left.

“Alright, y’all! You already know what time it is.” The DJ blatantly announces through his microphone. The crowd somewhat reacts, but not to his liking you assume.

“I said… Y’all already know what time it is!” Everyone goes wild, screaming, chanting and whistling.

“Tonight, I wanna welcome y’all my boy. From the East side, he’s an up and coming rapper- Y’all check this,” He pauses for a moment, “He is a Korean rapper! Y’all feel me? What y’all know about a Korean rapper, aight?” He shakes his head throwing his hands up.

“Imma let y’all have this one, but I’m tellin’ y’all! You don’t know nothing bout this!” You smile uncontrollably, aware of who he’s talking about. Also somewhat anxious to see what the hype is about, your nerves making your stomach churn just a little too much while you’re out in public.

“Give it up for my boy, RM!” The DJ, swivels the record on his turntable back and forth. And there Namjoon was, appearing from the side of the stage, with his du-rag and bucket hat, loose tee, baggy jeans, and those familiar Air Force Ones you’d grown to recognize. You also peep the Cuban chain that adorns his neck.

And then the beat kicks in. Which was also familiar, you note that it’s the beat for “I Need Love.” Everyone starts bobbing their heads, including him. Including you.

He throws his hand up, shoving gestures to go along with the rhythm of the music, while using his other hand to firmly hold onto his mic.

“I’d like to introduce myself, The name is RM, Let’s rewind and take you back to when it first started, Very first time that I walked in the shop, I was startled and I swear I had felt my heart drop, You made me wanna get down on my knees, Begging, please, Coulda told you I was sprung the moment I seen ya,”

He makes eye contact with you and points directly in your direction. He’s talking about you, right? He’s got to be. There’s no way he isn’t. You continue bobbing your head to the beat, and you can’t fight the smile in return.

“Dang baby, how’d you fit in those jeans? Hips got a brother feeling like he’s in a dream, Couldn’t even keep my head straight, Yeah I’m Asian but damn, Somethin’ must have went left and messed up my fam, Sittin’, thinkin’, contemplatin’, and wonderin’, How could I get this fine lil shawty to blushin’? Hopin’ that you’ll say yes and lemme steal you from the scene, Treat you like a queen and show you what a real man can be,”

He stares at you for a moment too long, yet you’ve already grown too hot for the jean jacket you’re wearing over your tube top.

“I need love,” he adds before dropping the mic; everyone suddenly is hype, continuously cheering him on and giving him props for his performance.

“I told y’all! Give it up for my boy, RM!” The DJ adds, patting him on the back while smiling from ear to ear. But, his eyes are focused on you, and only you — who just can’t seem to shake off the bright smile plastered on your face, you attentively graze your bottom lip with your teeth to attempt stopping yourself from smiling so much. But, you fail. And he takes note of that, returning a smile to you. You could tell he’s blushing, his dimples appearing before he dips his head low.

So shy, yet so damn fine. How is that even possible?

—

That same week, he surprised you at work, stumbling in to rap a few verses about how beautiful you are to him, and he pulled a bouquet of roses he hid from behind his back. You remembered that day so clearly. You remembered kissing him, hugging him, holding his hand, smelling the flowers. You also remembered Mr. Park interrupting your little PDA session to scold you about: “No kissing and no sex on the clock!”

But, Namjoon loved you more than you could think. And he didn’t care who in the world thought it was wrong for you two to fall in love. Because the night you two had arrived at his apartment, lips intertwined with one another, and hands roaming each others bodies, was when everything became so clear.

You both stumble inside, too wrapped up in locking lips with one another. Namjoon guides you toward his bedroom; and being the klutz he is, he stubs his shoe on the baseboard leading to his bedroom. You both break the kiss, and you can’t help but chuckle at his clumsy ways.

“Why you laughing at me, huh?” He lifts you up and you can’t help the half gasp/half giggle that escapes your lips, immediately wrapping your legs around his waist as he carries you to his bed. He gently lies you down on your back and hovers above you. You unexpectedly snatch his bucket hat off, tossing it somewhere on the floor — his faded, white-blonde and dark brown strands on display.

“Did you have to do my Kangol like that?” He whines with furrowed brows. You tap his bottom lip, dragging your finger across the plump flesh.

“Shut up and kiss me.” His gold Cuban link chain hangs from his neck, prompting your fingers to tug it down, and you do so, his lips smashing with yours yet again. Your fingers lace themselves within his hair, admiring the feel of his oiled scalp. His lips massage yours in a way that’s beyond comforting, and you make sure to inform him how nostalgic kissing feels. Drawn-out moans spew from you, and you can’t help but wonder how in the hell could you be in this time and moment with him. Piece by piece all of your garments end up lost on the ground, along with his clothing. He had you caged in to his bed and kept himself hovered over you, planting kisses along your neck trailing down to your collarbone.

“Mmm, Joon.” You follow his lead, kissing his blush-colored lips, snaking through his silky strands. His hands travel behind your back to remove your lace bra, revealing your breasts that illuminate from the moonlight peeking through the blinds of his window, your chocolate nipples hardened and desperate for attention. His eyes are blown wide, cherishing every dip and curve of your body.

“Wow,” He admits, his erection growing behind his undergarment. He holds a few moments to etch this view of you within his memory, appreciating every trait of your being in this form. His hands find placement on your hips, pulling you to his body completely — the soft, plushness of your breasts pushed against his chest. He rubs the outline of your face, slowly dragging his index finger along your jawline.

“You are the most beautiful woman in the world. You know that?” You let out a small giggle, feeling vulnerable in this state. He kisses you, being sure to suck your bottom lip, pulling and tugging softly with his teeth. His hands roam down your back and land on your ass cheeks, gripping with force. Your breath hitches, and you find yourself wrapping your arms around his neck, in hopes to ease him in just a little more. Even though physically it isn’t possible. He teases your bottom lip with a swipe of his tongue, asking for entrance.

And you let him in, sucking and licking him back in response, both of yours saliva mixing with each others, and not a care in the world — too consumed in each other. He gropes your ass, causing a moan to slip from you. His large palms kneading the cushion-y flesh, and damn is he grateful for this moment in time with you. He pulls from your lips with an audible smack, and you relish in the sight of his thick lips all swollen and damp.

“I love you, ____” He admits with those delightful irises.

“I love you too, Namjoon.” He guides you to lie down on your back, hovering above you as he places kisses along your jawline, leading down your neck, taking his time to cherish every part of you. His hands roam along your sides, caressing the curves of your body. He kisses the area between your breasts and stops suddenly, eyeing you for approval. As if understanding, you nod. His tongue peeks out and circles your right nipple, he wraps his lips around the bud and sucks with tenderness, making sure to release with a pop each time while his other hand massages your left breast.

Your core aches as a result, needing to feel him so the void inside your walls can be filled. He repeats this with your other tit, sucking your nipple while massaging the other, pinching and rolling the bud between his fingers. Your core throbs with an intense pleasure, soaking your now soiled panties. He eases down further, planting kisses down your tummy and moving along the inner thighs of your mocha skin, praising the smooth, supple, flesh. His fingers tug the band of your lace panties, and he eyes you again for approval.

“Please,” You plead, and it was all he needed to hear to remove the garment and reveal yourself to him, treasuring the sight of your lips dripping from arousal. He wastes no time, as you feel his warm, wet muscle gliding along your folds, his nose nuzzling your clit in the process. Your fingers snake into his hair and hips buck upwards to move along the rhythmic motions of his tongue, while he devours you whole as if he’d become a man starved.

“Joon!” You praise, panting for air, Your gaze follows between your legs, cherishing the man that continues to eat you out. He watches your expressions, glaring deeply into your eyes as he does so. His fingers ease toward your folds, rubbing his digits along your drenched pussy, coating them with your wet. He watches you still, not wanting to leave your gaze as he enters a finger inside you. You moan his name in response. His finger delves deep within you, your walls sucking him in perfectly.

“So good for me,” He lashes his tongue out to lick your clit in a circular motion. The sight of him between your thighs makes your heart quiver. He deliberately adds a second finger, his lengthy digits curling themselves upwards and dragging along the walls of your womanhood. His nails dig along the flesh of your thighs, keeping you settled and under his grip, his lips suck on your clit til no end. His obscene noises send a shockwave of pleasure through you, and your toes curl at the sensation. He pulls his fingers from out of you and tastes your arousal that clings to him.

“Tastes so good,” He moans, and you can’t help your thighs from rubbing together to ease the tension that has built. Then, he blushes at the view of you, all horny and ready for him. Only him. How can he be so cute and so fine at the same time? You ask yourself this everyday. Your legs move on their own accord, struggling to draw him back in. He chuckles at your actions.

“You want more, baby?” He questions in that deep, sexy voice of his.

You nod in reply, “Yes, Joon. Please, daddy?” His famous dimples reappear, and those mesmerizing, pearly whites appear. He dives back down, trailing kisses along your tummy, leading to your mound. He worships your body as he had wanted to do since the day he met you, gripping and rubbing along your skin. He moans against you, admiring the feel of you under his fingertips. His lips encase around your clit again, and your body jerks from the sudden feeling. His tongue slides along your folds, sucking and slurping, making the most lewd noises.

His fingernails drag along your thighs, adding an odd tingle within you. You follow his motions and graze your nails on top of his hand, when an unexpected bliss washes over you — causing you to writhe underneath him. He continues sucking your clitoris until you can’t take anymore, your legs gliding up an down along his back, back arching off the mattress, eyebrows furrowing and you simply drowning in euphoria with trembling thighs as your nails drag along his scalp and your cries echo within his eardrums.

“Joon, daddy!” Your nails dig further into his hand, and fingers tug harshly onto his strands. Your core now sensitive to the touch, something you’d never experienced before. He moves his head back and forth, delving deeper and not wanting to let go. You scratch his back, now in hopes he’d give up. You’re nearly convinced he’s going to kill you with that tongue of his, and then out of nowhere, he pushes two fingers inside you. Your toes curl for what feels like the millionth time, and you whimper his name repeatedly.

He thrusts his digits into you, a loud squelching noise filling up the space. And you feel those plush lips wrap around your clit again. He ruts against the bed, wanting to feed the tension within his groin. Your feet now having fought the sheets you lay upon, twisting and turning due to the over-sensitivity. But in some strange sentiment, there’s another wave. And here you are having your second orgasm of the night.

“Fuck, Ungh- I’m cumming again!” Your body shakes violently, not having control over the orgasm that’s overtaken you. An uncontrollable scream slips out and you shove Namjoon away from you with a strained push, his chin now glistening with you. He wipes the residue from his face with the back of his hand, grinning at you fucked out and waiting on his bed. He pulls a condom from somewhere in his drawer and wraps himself up.

He was so thick, thicker than you thought. You lay flat on your tummy and Namjoon sets himself on top of you, caging you in again. He notes the glow upon your ebony skin as he coats his protected member with your drenched self, adding a line of his own saliva and finally diving into you with every inch he has, at a slow, steady pace. But the places he reaches leave you wondering what you’d done to deserve this kind of dick.

Magnificent.

“Beautiful, black queen,” he slips in between breaths, rocking his hips against yours. The position granting him a much deeper access. You gasp at his remark, clenching your walls tighter around him, he hisses in response. His warm breath fans the right side of your face, and he presses a kiss along your earlobe while adding,

“All mine. You’re my black queen, understand? Can’t nobody take that away from me.”

“Yes Namjoon,” You reply. “I’m all yours.”

His cock twitches at the sound of his name slipping from your lips within this state — having you underneath him like this, needy, desperate, and only craving him. He inches to meet your lips with his. His kisses are filled with want and desire, full of love. That sweet, sweet love.

“Give it to me daddy,” You say under your breath but audible enough for him to hear, and he takes heed to continue thrusting himself into you, his delicate, golden skin glimmering with perspiration. The sound of your bodies clapping against each other resonate throughout his apartment, as soft whimpers and moans fall from you, and he utilizes every millisecond of this moment to drown himself in your presence.

“So tight, so wet. So beautiful.” His hips buck in a gentle, yet stern manner, causing your body to jerk upward and eyes to shut close in response — his balls slapping your ass with each thrust of his hips, he continuously hits that sweet spot over and over again, your eyes rolling back due to the nostalgia. He eases his fingers in between your legs to rub circles into your clit simultaneously, and it doesn’t take long for your walls to contract for the third time that night.

“Fuck baby,” He coos with followed moans and groans, spilling himself while still buried in you. You shudder underneath him with nails dragging along the sheets, and muffled moans from burying your face, as you call out his name like it was the only function your brain could process.

He eases himself out of you, and you can’t help the low gasp that emits from you — having been so full of him and sensitive at the same time. A few moments later, and the slight shift of the bed indicates he vanished to discard the condom. You simply lay there, slowly processing that he’d given you the best sex you’ve ever had, being that his main focus was pleasuring you.

But it was in those final moments when Namjoon cuddled you afterwards, bodies attached together by sweat, gasping for air and basking himself in the warm, vanilla, sugar aroma of your essence — that he knew he was in love with you. And there was nothing anyone could ever say to change his feelings.

You break the silence having thought of Namjoon’s words you recall from his performance.

“Think you’ve found it?” He watches your form with raised eyebrows.

“Found what?” You trace circles along his chest, gazing upon his abdomen.

“Love,” You state, and a silence falls that makes your body warm up in a flash.

He shakes his head in a “no” gesture, “I don’t think I have.” The sudden pause of his sentence makes your heart drop.

“I know I have.” He kisses your forehead and draws you closer to him, holding onto you for dear life — like he’s afraid he’d lose you. You beam at his gesture, curling up into his figure. His heart thumps from the immense affection between the two of you. Your now closed eyes like an irreplaceable gift to him.

“My around the way girl,” He whispers to himself, while petting your hair and drifting off into slumber.

[rosetta-j-stone]

Joker Out: noooooo don’t keep buying tickets to our shows baby boos you’re soooooo sexy aha

Kris seeing all the tickets being sold out in Amsterdam: Oh no :) guess we should consider a new date :) the disaster :)