#jk I'm never writing this 🤪🤪🤪

[wiccawrites]

u did not hear this from me but au where kimchay meet a few years later in life, when Chay is a rising musician who joins a tv competition in the hopes of making his mainstream break and Wik has made such a huge impact in the music industry that he's invited to mentor and judge said competition!!!!!! Chay's confidence is shaky at the start but HEY GUESS WHO SAVES HIM AND GIVES HIM A CHANCE AT THE LAST MOMENT AND BECOMES HIS MENTOR?

[uyuforu]

Can you give more details on his Venus Libra, please? As in...is there any other placements in the chart that support "weak" placements (particularly in his chart and in general is it a thing)? Idk how to ask it correctly.

I mean, isn't it quite torturing for a person to live like that and never been satisfied with the partners and kinda not being able to fall in love with an actual person?

If not the placements how a person can fix it? Is it about shadow work/maturing or anything like that? Or it's written in the core of a person?

It's interesting because my Venus is in Gemini and all this relationship thing is kinda too...real and boring? Not a dreamy romantic thoughtful novel as I always portrayed it, duh 🤪

Jungkook's Natal Chart: Libra Venus in 9H, 17°

-> Hello! Thank you for your request! To be honest, I wasn't supposed to do this one lol but I'm currently in a café so I don't have my tarots with me lmao and I hate to draw cards in public. So I will do the Venus analysis of Jungkook in his Natal Chart! Hope you enjoyed :)

Venus in the Chart represents how you love, what you are attracted to and how you feel loved. This is a good placement to look at to know more about your love style and mostly also any red flags you could attract or even be! It makes you more aware of yourself.

Venus in Libra

-> Okay, so. Venus in Libra is a tricky placement to me. First, it just screams romance. Rom com love like. These people are just so so so romantic, you never saw that. But it's not like dramatic love, it's really poetry like love. These people, when in love, give the world to their partner. Libra is still an air sign, so they value freedom too. But their hopelessness has a bad side. First it can make them struggle to find love, as they wish to. They can expect too much, and be disappointed, and feel like they will never find what they are looking for. These people need to not mistake the imaginary with reality. So these people can go in many relationships, or more kind of situations hips. They can also date but find it hard to fall in love, because they really are waiting for "the one". They can also enjoy flirting, these natives can have periods in life when they just want to have fun. They are so charismatic and flirt like nobody lmao. Also, sometimes their kindness can be mistaken for flirting. They may always feel like someone have a crush on them? Or they really enjoy to have people falling for them, they enjoy seeing they affect people. They take good care of themselves, they love to look good and have compliments. Some people could see it as shallow, but they are really nice people. They hate injustice, and hate mean people. They need equality, fairness, kindness, non judgmental people to feel good in a relationship. Basically, a Libra Venus will provide you equality, gentleness, allegiance. But they require devotion, traditional romance, companionship. If you are not romantic, it's a no. If you don't love them enough, it's a no. But once they are happy and feel loved in their relationship, they are just such a cute partner! The kind of partner to just give you all their love, and I noticed these people have all the 5 love languages lol! And they truly believe love always win. They want someone they can show their flaws to and they will gladly accept yours in return. Also! Funny thing but people with Venus signs (Taurus & Libra) in Venus have a wonderful voice most of the times and it's easy for them to write beautiful things (so songs and stories for example). I know JK talked about how he thinks he is not good at it but I'm sure he has good potential! (Still with you for ex).

Venus in 9H

-> The 9H is represented by Sagittarius. For keywords, it has travel, wisdom, philosophy, religion, cross-cultures, foreign countries, learnings, etc. THIS is the placement I saw first that actually told me something: Jungkook doesn't care much about where is partner can come from. Let me explain. The Korean society is pretty strict on this, because of the fact their parents sometimes want to keep the bloodline pure, or it can also be them, language barrier, culture barrier, all of these things are factors on why Koreans (most of them, not all) have a problem about marrying or even dating foreigners. But it feels like Jungkook doesn't care much? She is a foreigner? She doesn't look like everyone else? They don't share same religion? If he is in love, he truly doesn't care. He may actually enjoy dating someone different from him, so even someone who is not famous or does a different job than him, he likes it. He is curious and enjoy the differences. He may love also someone smart who has a lot of knowledges, that it's school wise or even life's philosophy wise. JK has so much admiration for RM for example, I wouldn't be shocked if it would be the same for his partner. Her having a brain is super important. He also want adventures, a spontaneous person and someone he can teach stuff, but also someone who can teach him things. Someone who loves to travel is a good thing also. He needs someone happy, chill, who will make him less anxious. And to be honest, this placement makes me feel like someone spiritual would do him so good. And he way be interested in this because of this placement! This placement (Venus Libra 9H) is what makes me think of why he could have tried fwb and ons, this placement makes him want to experience things in life. He just want to learn, to see, to discover all possibilities, but without any judgments. It makes JK very independent when it comes to relationships. He loves his so and I'm sure he is the clingy type of bf sometimes (I'll explain in the degree part hehe), but when it comes to him as a person, he needs freedom. He needs freedom for work, for hobbies, for his friends, for his family but also himself. If he can't find it, he will either become distant or just break up lmao. This placement makes him more into marrying with a spiritual person.

17°

-> The 17° is a Leo degree! It represents attention, fame, light, children, creativity, self-expression, entertainment, strength, hair, etc. So, he may like people who have beautiful hair, or hair could just be a thing he likes, like people who take care of their hair. And with the Libra Venus, I feel like just taking care of themselves is a thing for him. Love can make him much more creative. And so dating someone who share the same interest in creativity and art is important to him. Someone strong or who appear confident. Someone who is fun, a sun in the room, or just someone he can admire, like "she shines so naturally", "wow she is so pretty", or "she is so talented I love it". Admiration seems to be a big part here for Jungkook. Also dating a celebrity doesn't seem a problem for him? Or becoming a famous couple? He doesn't care much if people don't invade their privacy too much. He doesn't care if he can control what you have access to.

Thank you for reading!

back to index ; ask ; requests ; rules

[mrs-monaghan]

Hey Shaz, I hope you are doing well. I found your blog recently. I have been a jikook since 2020. I really don't have an ask. I just wanted to tell you I love your blog and how you explain things in detail and, most importantly how you always include real content that is not edited to fit a narrative. I always come to your bog when I miss some jikook content . I

Awwww. I'm sorry you didn't get to finish your ask. Its happened to me too once or twice where I send an ask be4 I'm ready 😂😂😂

Anyway my dear, thank u so so much. I appreciate your appreciation 😘 I'm not saying we don't have shippers who like to embarrass us with fake edits; like whoever did this shit

That is just fucked up. Like vermin level fucked up. They're the ones who do this crap so I hate when Jkkrs do this coz it proves antis right everytime they say we're all the same.

Ugh. Love the original much better. Also I'm pretty sure Jikook have posed like that multiple times and therefore a fake edit was NOT necessary. Like for example on one of my favourite "spot the couple" ot7 pics

My point is Dee, I'm not about sharing out of context shit or fake edits. It just makes 0 sense to do that as a Jkkr seeing as we get served the good shit on a silver platter. 😜 We don't gotta try to fit fake narratives because Jikook write the story themselves, we just sit back and enjoy.

Speaking of, that travel show i just know its gonna be the best thing ever!! Even though I suspect we will get it in 2025 😂

Anyway, thanks again. I'm glad u like it here. Have this edit of jealous JK cracking his neck like there is no tomorrow

Never gonna beat those Minimoni anti allegations 🤪

[bbrissonn]

i hate myself 🤪 (very fake, i dont act)

ok so, HI

honestly this shouldn't be a surprise to anyone because who was i kidding when i said i would never come back on here 😭😭

so i'm back !!! ish ish

i dont think ill ever write for hockey players again just because yeah idk i dont feel like it, actually i dont know if ill ever write on here again but yeah, i think im gonna start like posting about just hockey in general, as well as football (soccer) and like taylor swift because DUH

anyways, ive had this account for like almost 3 years which is kinda crazy, but ive kept my life very private and im now okay with 'revealing' more about me and sorta coming clean with like me?

anywaysssss

my name's not bri LOL my first name is gabrielle and bri was just a nickname i made for myself cause idk why not it's the internet

also, im 17 LOL so i was writing/reading smut when i was 15- oops? which is why i was never really like "MINORS DONT INTERACT" cause i still am so yeah 🤪🤪🤪

so when i started this blog i was 9th grade, and im started college in like a week which is like why i decided to do this rn, cause like telling everyone i was a kid and writing smut was kinda weird but oh well what's done is done SO EVERYONE WHO WOULD ATTACK ME FOR NOT KNOWING THE MICHIGAN WAS CONSIDERED IN THE WEST AND NOT THE EAST LEAVE ME ALONE I WAS A KID AND IM CANADIAN SOOOOOO

and yeah, i havent forgotten about, girlies i was literally crying cause ppl were in my inbox cussing me out because i didnt know so yeah YOU MADE A KID CRY PEOPLE jk i laugh at it now

honestly i think im gonna use this blog more as a way to vent and rent or whatever (simp over man too obv) then like specifically posting about sports and whatnot

ANYWHOOOO

i don't know how many ppl will actually see this but oh well

IM BACK BITCHES !!!!! (until i go into a drought again and disappear for a bit 😚)

[colormepurplex2]

Leah!! Shatter me was awesome! I loved it, when I saw the 28k wc i became all giddy and everything 🤪 I loved how you presented every character and idk they seemed to fit their roll so well? You've got an amazing talent there it kept me thoroughly hooked up!🤩

And jk caring abt oc had me kicking my feet every now and then. I just don't understand how jiyoon could do this to him! He's such a pure soul 🥺 even if he got what he deserved at the end my heart still hurts for him when she you know shattered him.

And oc was so kind and accepting to all. Especially when she was handed that stupid plan, it was heart breaking 🤧 I can't imagine how hard it must be for the women who go through this in the real life, fck giving up an infant just like that, it must be so difficult for them😞 I don't think their paychecks can even suffice the entire connection which they've established with the young one, I saw this documentary on surrogate women, it showed the whole process of surrogacy and geez when the clients are from an entire different country, it must be so hard giving up the child who she'll probably never meet😭🤧

You're so sweet, Anon 💜 I'm glad I could bring you something you've enjoyed :D

To be honest, I've had this story in my ideas folder for quite some time now and have been constantly on the fence about whether or not I was going to write it (Thankfully, I signed up for the Daddy's Home Fest and talked myself into biting the bullet, more or less) because it does deal with such sensitive and delicate topics. I won't shy away from heavy subjects, and I've written some pretty intense things, but I knew this would be a bit different regardless. I have family that have gone through similar situations but even that felt not quite enough. So, I spent a lot of time researching and reading as much as I possibly could so I could try and handle it with the care it needs and deserves.

[lokisasylum]

In all my years of being on tumblr (and I've been here since 2009, back when tumblr was still HARDCORE) I never thought I would live to see the day Jikook shippers here on tumblr would officially reached the same level of delirium as Taekookers.

Making up narratives.

Making up moments.

Seeing things that aren't there.

Calling Jimin or JK a liar when they do or say things that goes against "the plot".

The funniest I've heard so far is that Jimin allegedly and purposely set his wrist watch to JK's birth-date or that Jimin's foot while showing the galaxy mood lamp was not his, but JK's.

Oh and lets not forget the twisting of Jimin's words on vlive worst and more embarrassing than those translators that purposely mistranslate shit to get him dragged.

"omg what do you mean Jimin didn't went to see him in person on his birthday? A man who flew from Paris to---" BLAHBLAHBLAHBLAH....its not 2019, Susan. It's 2023, It's also Chapter 2, it's also SOLO ERA. These men are BUSY IN-DI-VI-DUA-LLY. No need to write up a 10 page fanfic essay of "what really probably happened is this and this. Source: Trust me bro." 🤪

I'm genuinely curious (and highly concerned) what will become of these people if BTS announce post-MS they will disband and each member goes their separate ways without looking back.

[foxymoxynoona]

Foxyyy flux is ending😭😭 what am I gonna do without my favorite dumbasses?? okay but I was just thinking about this and I want to acknowledge it: can we all agree that you’re, like, a fucking GODDESS for managing to basically write 2 LONG ASS BOOKS IN WHAT, 1 year and a half? Two years? Sure you had stuff written already but you had yo write, you know, the other stuff lol and I’m sure you went back and rewrote many things as you went on… not even mentioning you did this while writing 718272882 other stories and most importantly while managing to have a life..? I’m in awe. Or maybe you’re just terrifying me🤪🤪. You might thinks this is coming out of nowhere but it’s not: I just got in my feels about the next GoT book not coming out, STILL, after 13 years and I was like “see George.. foxy would never!”

Anyway about this flux chapter: I don’t know if I’m pissed at jk or not. Homeboy is not telling her anything! Because I appreciate him probably not wanting to “force” her do to stuff even if it is his culture and not making this harder on her than it already is. But Sasha is panicking already and I don’t think finding out things along the way is helping! I can only imagine showing up to an event and everyone is wearing a hanbok except for me! I’d rather dig my own grave if I’m being honest🫣. Overall, I think it is going a little better…? I guess I’ll only be perfect when she won’t be panicking anymore and I don’t think we’ll get there for a bit lol. And the ex girlfriend bit… as I was reading I was like “maybe Sasha shouldn’t be this jealous about her too” until I realized we should trust no one in this story so… Chungcha I’ll keep my eye out for you👀

And about your recent ask “thematically appropriate to the bit in Flux I wrote today” WYD?? YOU CAN’T TEASE MY LIKE THAT WITH HALF RUSSIAN HALF KOREAN BABIES AND THE LEAVE?? not cool🥲

🌸

It's even crazier when you consider I have SO MUCH WRITTEN for the next three books too and absolutely rewrote a bunch of stuff as we went. I thought when we got to this arc I'd be able to just use stuff I'd written it before, and instead I had to completely rewrite it, the characters weren't acting right anymore for where we actually are. Holy shit I just realized I've beenw orking on this story for 3 years now?? Is that right?! I started in like January 2020... that can't be right 😱

istg if the magnum opus of my life is this idol fanfic I will scream. Is this what will be on my tomb stone? 😱😱

I really can't believe we're here either, and I'm simultaneously so excited for a break and also excited to dive into the next book haha. The break will last long enough for me to read the first two books, do any little tidying up I need to, and make some updates to the plan for the next book. I want to get some more little one shots written for the other members too 😇

Anyway, I'm honestly way more shocked that there are people still reading and enjoying the story, so thank you! I thought for sure people would be bored and leave by now. If it helps, the next book has several of my favorite arcs, so I'm looking forward to those! 😊

Jungkook is quaking. I went after Sasha this book. Next book, I'm coming after him 😈

[littledark11]

"Although you hadn’t meant to punch him quite so sharply in the balls."

"the final syllables of his snarky ‘advice’ fading along with his sperm count."

She opened the Pandora of God knows what with Loki.

"I’m sure he’s had worse, you thought as the stale sweat of the changing room hit."

I don't know man but why do I think Loki likes receiving pain but not in this way lol if that makes any sense 🤪

"every ‘actually-I-think-you’ll-find’; ‘bad-form-even-for-a-mortal’ and ‘are-you-sure-you’re-meant-to-be-here…did-you-sneak-in-with-the-domestic-staff?’."

I don't want to be that kind of girl because I don't really condone violence for the most part but it sounds like he deserved it a little bit maybe a slap on the face lol

"You still want his praise."

"Don't we all want his praise?"

"choke on his cock while he called you a good-fucking-girl."

"You’d bought an emerald green lingerie set for Christ’s sake."

Don't call me out like that,I may be a whore for Loki but I'm a sensitive whore. JK JK.

I love a queen that knows what she wants,she's standing on business, I respect that!.

“Do you feel better, now?”

I would be if I choked on your cock and you called me a good girl heheheh.

“I’m not sure your knuckles experienced my anatomy’s full glory to report on such an accolade,” Loki replied without a beat. “Their contact was a little brief…”

That is the most eloquent way of saying he wants either a hand job or for her to squeeze his balls very hard. I can go either way at this point lol

“Go on then,” he goaded. “You seem under the impression I don’t like it.”

My actual reaction:

"your mind skidded to a stop as a hand flew to his chest, gathering a clutch of the slutty gym top"

You didn't have to write slutty but you did and I'm so happy.

My favorite ones:

“Discipline me, then.”

"grabbing his crotch. Fingers curled around the soft, tight sac nestled below the huge erection snaking up the hip joint."

“Harder,” he hissed through gritted teeth.

"You’re nothing but a shit-talking, spoiled prince with a big cock and nice hair,”

“The hair, I mean,” he added. He didn’t mean the hair.

“Ruin me, Agent—I’m in your hands.”

I enjoyed every fucking minute! I'm actually in shock you made me speechless! I never knew Loki can be into this but then again I never thought hard lol

Thank you for surprising me,I love it very much,it's going to into my collection of horniness.

In Your Hands [Loki x Reader]

A link to my Masterlist is HERE Summary: That irritating, smug, asshole Loki has taken your final fuck to give. Or so you think... Warnings: 18+ minors DNI. Smut. Avenger! Loki x female reader. Mild BDSM (ball related), hostility, enemies to lovers. Language. (w/c 2.4k)

Loki’s curses beat the air behind you, and the door from the training room slammed; smothering them.

I fucking hate him, I fucking hate him.

In your experience, dramatic exits should be reserved for special occasions. And striking an ego-killer blow to Loki ‘Godsplainer’ Laufeyson was a special-fucking-occasion. It’d been a long time coming. Although you hadn’t meant to punch him quite so sharply in the balls.

I’m sure he’s had worse, you thought as the stale sweat of the changing room hit.

The last thing you’d seen was Steve’s wide, earnest eyes as Loki had doubled over in a slap of dark hair with a muted oomph—the final syllables of his snarky ‘advice’ fading along with his sperm count. You did warn Loki if he told you the correct way to deliver a blow to the transversus one more time that you’d start intentionally missing.

Not my fault he never fucking listens.

It’d been building for months: every ‘actually-I-think-you’ll-find’; ‘bad-form-even-for-a-mortal’ and ‘are-you-sure-you’re-meant-to-be-here…did-you-sneak-in-with-the-domestic-staff?’.

But under it all, the worst thought of all was your own: you still want his praise.

You picked up someone’s shoe from the floor and lobbed it at the lockers – pure, impotent rage ratcheting back with the clang. If Steve kicked you off the A-Team then so be it, worth it to see that moment of pure, wretched shock in his eyes every time you closed your own.

Breaths scraped from your throat, trying to stop the tremble in your hands. You’d spent months trying to catch his eye like a desperate pick-me teenager, spent months wishing his approval into existence: the aloof, pretentious god. Begging any higher power who’d listen for the chance to kneel at his feet and choke on his cock while he called you a good-fucking-girl. You’d bought an emerald green lingerie set for Christ’s sake. It was still in the box—the returns window a dot on the horizon.

Embarrassing. If he knew, you think you’d die of shame. Months running yourself into the ground trying to fit what he’d want and for what? Fuck. “Do you feel better, now?” The ripple of Loki’s smarm filled the air like steam, but it’s edge could cut stone.

Your lips pinched, biting back a slew of curses. You’d expected Steve, but not him.

The idea of turning made your feet root even firmer to the floor. But with every strained second that shifted past, thickening the air, he was winning—staring at the back of your head with that imperious look that only said one thing: I’m better than you, and you know it.

“If you’re waiting for an apology, don’t hold your breath.” Loki released a low chuckle. “Be assured, I can wait much longer than you. How much of your meagre lifespan would you squander staring at those dismal tiles in order to preserve the façade of your superiority, I wonder?”

You spun with a force that twinged a nerve in your neck. “My…?” It came out in a pathetic gasp. “My…superiority?!”

Loki’s face was the picture of serenity: posture impeccable, lips straight. His eyes slid between yours, brows peaked in sanctimonious expectation.

Borderline indecent gym-wear clung to the sinews of his muscular body. The material was like elasticated silk, and every time you’d made contact in training it made it impossible not to imagine frotting against him: bitch in heat.

The lines of the sweatpants draped like a sheet of liquid tar to the bulge of his thighs as he shifted his weight and said, simply, “Yes.”

Heat flared up your neck.  “You’ve got some fucking balls, Laufeyson, I’ll give you that,” you hissed, regretting it immediately. “I’m not sure your knuckles experienced my anatomy’s full glory to report on such an accolade,” Loki replied without a beat. “Their contact was a little brief…”

He tilted his head, an infuriating dimple crushing into one cheek as the heat scorched up your cheeks and made your eyes itch. “A little…weak.”

“Maybe I should twist them again,” you said, folding your arms. You hoped he couldn’t see the fingers trembling. Loki’s eyes narrowed as he crossed the changing room in three, elegant strides and loomed so close that your bellies touched. “Go on then,” he goaded. “You seem under the impression I don’t like it.”

You searched his face, noting the tremor of something deeper than the familiar irritation. Was that…but, it couldn’t be. “What are you doing?” you whispered, stumbling slightly against the lockers. The heat from his abdomen radiated through your gym top. Christ, his stomach was so hard.

“What are you doing, Agent?”

A few black strands had come loose from his ponytail, sticking to the sweat pearling on his jaw. “All bark, no bite,” he murmured, squinting lightly.

His scent crept up your nostrils like smoke under a door: fresh musk, the linger of the cologne he wore at last night’s party, and above it all a scent that was inextricably him. You could never put your finger on it. It drove you mad: just like the rest of him.

Loki released a short puff of irritation, eyes rolling to the side. “I knew you didn’t have it in you.” As he took a step back, your mind skidded to a stop as a hand flew to his chest, gathering a clutch of the slutty gym top, making no effort to cushion the scrape of your nails against his skin, and pulled.

Loki’s mouth crushed to yours with a gasp, his hands flying to the lockers on either side of your head with an ominous crunch of metal. His breath groaned into your throat, the softness of his lips jerking your senses.

Had you expected them to be cold, hard, unwelcoming: just like the rest of him? Yes. But there was time to mull over that later.

Loki’s tongue nudged against your lips, and you relented. The tension in your body seemed to melt as he draped over you like liquid; the cage of his frame and the rub of a thumb down the valley of your cheekbone making you forget just for a second how much you really fucking hated him.

“Show me,” he murmured against your neck. You hadn’t even realised the kiss had slid apart and your head was tilted back against the lockers, the god’s mouth raging a ravenous path down the valley of your throat.

“Show you what?” you panted, bringing your head forward so quickly your vision swam. A lopsided grin spread across his mouth. “How much you hate me,” he said. “You have a problem.” The barb was unnecessary, but Loki’s grin widened all the same. “Discipline me, then.”

His sapphire eyes blazed as your hand flew to his shorts, grabbing his crotch. Fingers curled around the soft, tight sac nestled below the huge erection snaking up the hip joint. Loki hissed, stomach clenching, more clutches of hair falling free. His forehead pressed to yours as your grip tightened.

“Fuck,” he grunted, voice tapering to a whine. You squeezed tighter, and the lockers behind you crumpled under the strength of his fists bearing down.

“Harder,” he hissed through gritted teeth.

His legendary cock twitched above your white knuckles, straining against the running shorts and Loki’s narrowed eyes glistened, the muscles in his jaw and the veins in his neck hard enough to pop.

“Apologise,” you spat, and Loki’s breath hitched as you gave him a brief moment of relief before clenching an even tighter fist than before.

His trainers slipped against the floor, thighs shaking with the effort not to fall to his knees. Even gods, it appeared, shared some of the weaknesses of men. Loki flipped his hair back.

“Why should I? You’re the c-combative v-viper.” A deep set of lines furrowed his forehead, rippling with each flex of your fingers. “You’re nothing but a shit-talking, spoiled prince with a big cock and nice hair,” you said, every muscle tingling with the desire raging through your veins. “You noticed,” Loki said with the twitch of an eyebrow: incorrigible, even in this position. “The hair, I mean,” he added. He didn’t mean the hair.

The god swept your forearm to the side, and your fingers ached immediately. How tight was I holding him? But there wasn’t time to wonder. His kiss slammed into you with the force of a storm, teeth clashing and his fingertips digging in to your scalp and the wet slide of lips across your own. “Loki,” you breathed, and he moaned into your mouth in response. You found yourself bucking against his hard body, grasping at everything and anything you could to be closer to him; to wind yourself so tightly to him that you though you might snap.

And then, your fingers were playing at his waistband. Loki drew back: eyes wild. “Really?” he asked, flushed and breathless. You stared at him, searching his eyes for any hint of ulterior motive, any sign he was about to pull the rug from under you. You gave a curt nod, and Loki’s expression rippled with surprise.

Your hands slid up the sides of his face, tangling in his hair. “You better make it good, considering you have a lot to make up for.” Loki snorted, “Please,” and then several things happened at once. Out of the corner of your eye, the door to the changing room glowed green around the crack. Loki shoved the waistband of his shorts down, scooping his cock in one hand while you fumbled with your leggings and send them skittering across the gleaming floor. “Norns,” Loki groaned as he cupped your breasts under the flimsy sports top, palming upwards. Beneath the bra, your nipples were hard as pebbles.

His brows peaked as his gaze rose from your chest to your face: a realisation that there wasn’t time for all that— all the filthy things you were beginning to realise he’d fantasised about. All the filthy thing you were beginning to accept that you’d fantasised about. “Maybe next time,” you muttered, pulling his hair-tie free in one sharp movement. A wicked smile unfurled on Loki’s lips.

He dipped, burying his face in your chest as he cupped the back of your thighs and you let out a gasp as he hoisted you upwards. Your legs folded around his hips, slick pussy flush to his stomach, sliding down the taut skin until you met the solid bar of flesh beneath.

“Oh, Agent,” he said in your ear, low and smooth, “I knew you couldn’t resist me.”

You shoved his shoulder, but Loki’s fingertips sank into the soft curve of your ass, pushing you up so your slit hovered above the crown of his cock.

His eyebrow rose. “Last chance,” he said with a ladle of sarcasm.

Steadying one hand on his shoulder, you scraped the other through his hair, winding in a fist. You tugged, slowly…slowly, and Loki groaned, letting you sink onto his cock with every sharp ache pinching at his scalp. His thrusts weren’t like you imagined: selfish, primal, uncontrolled. If anyone was a Jackhammer —you’d always imagined it would be Loki. But his hips rolled like dough, undulating against you until your eyes rolled back and the rear of your skull cracked against the lockers. “Harder,” you sobbed quietly, nails digging into his back muscle. “Harder,” Loki groaned, his breath hot in the hollow of your neck. “Ruin me, Agent—I’m in your hands.” You dragged the nails deep against his skin: not enough to break blood, but close. Loki’s ragged breaths of pleasure made a new thrill swell between your legs, meeting his sloppy fucks like you were trying to beat him.

The fist wound in his hair yanked again, and again, and each time…the gods hips jolted. His thrusts were faster now— your moans higher— the rattle of the metal lockers and the squeak of rubber soles on tile making your mind swim. “Can I come?” he gurgled between rough exhales, and you pulled his face to yours. There was something in his eyes you’d never seen before—swimming in the whirlpool of blue. “No,” you said, and his head fell back to the ceiling. Loki’s veined cock tugged every inch of your walls as he pulled out, and buried in, stars bursting in your vision as climax began to shift and slide in the depths like a riptide.

Your legs spasmed against his hips, crossed ankles digging into the base of his spine, the grip on the god’s hair unbreakable. Biting back the urge to sob his name, you slammed your hips down to the root of his length, pulling Loki’s mouth to yours. His tongue massaged the syllables of his own name forming on your tongue, the rumble in your throat matching the one you could feel in the depths of his chest.

“Gods,” he choked when you broke, panting, riding your cunt in sloppy thrusts.

You could feel the slip of your cum between your thighs, and coating the length of his cock: and Loki could too. He looked at you with something a little like fear, one hand flying from your ass and steadying against the lockers.

“Can I—” he started, but before you could respond his knees buckled, wobbling as orgasm hit him like a train. Loki’s cry echoed around the changing room, the pained pleasure of his release making the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. Fuck: he was beautiful. And now...it was over. A sharp stab of sadness slipped between your ribs. The doorhandle shoogled violently. “Everything okay in there? Loki?” You and Loki’s eyes met. Steve was outside. And he wasn't alone. “What if he’s fallen? Jeepers, the floors are freshly waxed for crivven’s sakes—” “—will you calm down. I think Loki can handle himself on some polished floors,” Sam said dryly through the door. “—Bet that’s not the only thing that’s been polished,” Bucky replied, and even at a distance you could feel the heat building in Steve’s cheeks. “You’re disgusting—our comrade could be in peril. I don’t know what got into her.” There were a series of snorts, and several brisk knocks. “Yo, Laufeyson. You in peril in there?” Sam asked, and Bucky’s laugh followed. “Yes,” Loki whispered; brushing a sex-damp strand of hair from your cheek. His eyes searched yours, pinning you to the lockers as he lowered you to the floor. “I think I might be.”

Tags in comments: ◝(ᵔᗜᵔ)◜❤️

[kingofbodyrolls]

Say that Again (I Dare You) (m) | jjk & pjm

Summary: You moan in your sleep, and your boyfriend knows this, but when you keep moaning another man's name in your sleep - and that man just happens to be one of your friends? What will Jungkook do? 

Pairing: Jungkook x reader x Jimin (established relationship with JK)

Note: hahaha, I'm having trouble writing, so here goes 🤪 This is my birthday treat to all of you lovely people!! Also, I've never written a threesome before (or had one myself lol) so, yeah. I hope it's alright! Please send me some love if you like it 💜 This is really filthy, and Jungkook is just straight up mean and possessive (but sweet at the end – spoiler!). It’s just a pwp of pure filth – I don’t know if I should say sorry, or you're welcome? 😇

Word count: 13.1K

Rating: mature / +18

Disclaimer: I do not own BTS or know them personally and this work of fiction is purely fictional and for entertainment purposes only. The actions and personalities described in the story do not reflect those of BTS— it’s just fiction. Also, if you would kindly read the tags/warnings before reading, that would be lovely: and if you don’t like whatever is described in the tags, just hit return and find something else to read. Thank you 🌸

Warnings: choking, degrading names (sl*t), penetrative sex (one time unprotected (it’s jk x reader) and one time protected (it’s jimin x reader)), oral (female and male receiving), fingering, nipple play, praise kink, cussing, dirty talk, handjob, jealousy/possessiveness, threesome, overstimulation/edging, multiple orgasms, cum eating, pet names. 

I think that’s it, let me know if I missed something!

“Ahhhh.”

“Mmmmhh.”

“Yes!”

As Jungkook slowly awakens, a symphony of low moans and gentle groans caresses his ears, weaving through the fabric of the night. 

This isn't his first awakening tonight, and frustration simmers beneath the surface. Blinking away the remnants of sleep, he's greeted by the sight of you, peacefully nestled beside him, yet the sounds you make are anything but. 

While he's grown accustomed to the symphony of your unique sleeping sounds, they still manage to disrupt the tranquility of the night. It's a peculiar blend of intimacy and frustration. 

There are moments when he simply lies there, captivated by the cadence of your breath, letting his imagination dance with the enigmatic scenarios your dreams unfold. 

Yet, there are other nights, when the discordant harmony pushes him to the brink of desire and exasperation. 

In those moments, his hand, in an act of sheer frustration, seeks solace in the quiet shadows of the room.

Tonight is one of those nights where he has nudged you lightly every time you’d moaned in your sleep, which made you stop for a short time before you started again. It’s not usually this bad, and he’s actually thinking about waking you up, even though you really need the sleep.

A dilemma dances in his thoughts, a silent waltz of consideration. 

Does he dare rouse you from the clutches of your restless dreams, offering respite in exchange for a quiet night's solitude? 

Or should he endure the symphony of your sleep-laden moans, contemplating the refuge of the couch or the earplugs concealed in the recesses of your drawers? 

The battle within him is a tangle of conflicting desires — the instinct to preserve your undisturbed slumber warring with the selfish yearning for his own, uninterrupted rest.

His initial attempt at evasion proves futile, leaving him ensnared in the cocoon of the duvet. Frustration etched across his features, a fleeting shadow in the dim room.

As if wrestling with an internal debate, he contemplates his next move. The soft exhale of reluctance escapes him before a decisive shift in resolve. With a purposeful twist, he turns on the mattress, eyes fixed on your slumbering form.

“Ah!”

“Jimin-ah!”

A sudden chill sweeps through him, arresting every fiber of his being. 

The blood in his veins turns glacial, leaving an icy trail that echoes the silent stillness of the room. 

A disconcerting picture unfolds—his body, a canvas painted with goosebumps and shivers, as if touched by an unseen hand of apprehension. 

Did he hear it correctly, or is it a phantom whisper haunting the edges of his consciousness?

Anguish tightens its grip around his chest, a visceral reaction to the revelation that sends shockwaves through his being. But beneath the veneer of anger, a more primal force stirs. 

An ember of arousal, unbidden and unwelcome, smolders in the depths of his turmoil. It's a turbulent collision of conflicting emotions, a tempest within him that threatens to engulf reason. 

Yet, as the flames of arousal lick at the edges of his consciousness, another, more formidable sentiment rises. Possessiveness, like a heavy cloak, drapes over him, an instinctual response to the threat that echoes in the recesses of his mind.

“Fuck, Jimin!” 

An unsettling tension infiltrates the room as he grapples with the disconcerting notion. 

Is your subconscious canvas painted with the vivid imagery of Jimin fucking you? 

The air thickens with an unspoken question, a lingering doubt that refuses to dissipate. Your body remains motionless, a deceptive calm veiling the tumult of thoughts that must be raging within the confines of your dreams. In the silence, the only audible resonance is the echo of explicit words escaping your lips, words that reverberate like a dissonant melody. 

You’ve never said another man’s name before. 

Usually it’s his name or none at all. 

Once, an arctic frost gripped his veins, numbing him to the core. Now, a searing inferno courses through his bloodstream, a blazing tempest consuming reason and restraint alike. The flames dance within him, a wildfire fueled by a volatile mix of emotions. 

His mind, once a sanctuary of clarity, is now a dense fog, enshrouded in the haze of an unrelenting blaze. Thoughts dissipate like smoke, leaving only one relentless imprint in the scorched recesses of his consciousness: the vivid, intrusive image of Jimin fucking you. 

It's a visceral assault on his senses, a relentless loop that dominates his mind, drowning out reason in the tumult of blazing desires.

An enigmatic force, as elusive as it is potent, propels him into action. 

It's as if an unseen hand has seized control, dictating the course of his movements with an urgency that defies reason. In the blink of an eye, the stillness of the room is shattered, replaced by the visceral cadence of his body in motion. 

The world outside dissolves into insignificance as he finds himself straddling you, an image of conflicting desires and unspoken tension. The air thickens with an unspoken question — an uncharted territory where the boundaries between impulse and restraint blur into obscurity.

The rage within him simmers, escalating with every repetition of Jimin's name, each utterance carving a deeper groove into the tapestry of his unraveling composure. It's a relentless mantra, a maddening echo that stokes the flames of his anger into an inferno. 

Frustration courses through his veins like a toxic elixir, poisoning reason and restraint. 

Fuck. 

He can’t take it. 

Anger. 

That’s all he can feel.

And then, a disturbing realization settles over him like a suffocating fog—why are his hands, that once were vessels of comfort, now around your throat?

Fuck.

You feel like you can’t breathe.

Something’s around your neck.

What?

In the blink of an eye, your world snaps into focus, the veil of sleep torn away by the jarring reality of darkness that cloaks the room. 

A sudden surge of panic courses through you as your eyes dart to Jungkook's looming figure above. 

His hands, once familiar and comforting, now clasp your throat with an unyielding grip. Your body jolts into action, an instinctual rebellion against the encroaching darkness. 

A scream, caught in the constricted confines of your throat, fights for release, while limbs flail in a desperate attempt to break free from the tightening vice of his hands. 

What the fuck is happening?!

Your desperation morphs into a primal instinct, and your fingers claw into his arms, leaving a trail of scratches etched in the wake of your distress. The sting is a visceral reminder of the nightmare unfolding, a silent testament to the rapture in the reality you once knew. 

In the shadowed abyss of the room, the question reverberates within your mind like a haunting refrain — why is he choking you? 

The air, thick with a disquieting tension, crackles with an unanswered plea for reason. His gaze, once a familiar refuge, now mirrors a dark and feral intensity that cuts through the silence like a knife. 

This isn't your Kookie, and the realization shatters the illusion of safety.

“Say that again, I dare you!” 

His words are venom, spat with a vehemence that leaves a lingering sting. The heat of his rage is palpable as he leans in, his breath a scorching tempest against your skin. 

The air crackles with an unspoken threat, each word a jagged edge that slices through the silence. The challenge hangs in the air like a dark cloud, suffocating in its intensity. 

His proximity is suffocating, his hot breath a visceral reminder of the storm of emotions that has engulfed the once tranquil space. Caught in the whirlwind of confusion and fear, you find yourself on the precipice of the unknown.

Fingers digging into his arms, your nails leave trails of desperation, each mark etching a plea for release. 

A hiss escapes your lips as his vice-like grip around your throat tightens, a relentless squeeze that sends shards of pain coursing through your body. 

The familiarity of his touch, once an intimate dance, now transforms into a twisted image of violence. This isn't the first time he's exerted control in the intimate realm, but the line has blurred into an unsettling unknown. 

In the midst of this disorienting chaos, you find yourself grappling with the unnerving realization—never before has he choked you to this extent. 

His fingers, like vices, tighten their grip, a merciless escalation that leaves you teetering on the precipice of suffocation. 

Leaning in with a menacing proximity, his voice, a venomous whisper, slithers into your ear, a chilling melody that resonates in the disoriented corridors of your mind. 

The room, once a haven, transforms into a claustrophobic labyrinth where each breath becomes a desperate gasp against the encroaching darkness. 

Dizziness settles like a shroud over your thoughts, a fog that clouds the clarity of reason. In this oppressive moment, the world narrows down to the visceral sensation of his breath against your skin, a disconcerting symphony of restraint and menace. 

As the whispered words echo through the chamber of your mind, you register the insidious truth—you're on the cusp of something inscrutable, a dance with the shadows where the boundary between fear and desire blurs into an unsettling unknown.

His voice, a gravelly rasp, slithers into your ear like a serpent's hiss, carrying with it an undertow of raw anger. 

“Jimin, huh?” 

The mere mention of the name sends a jolt of painful shivers down your body, an electric current of confusion and fear. 

What the fuck is he talking about? 

The air crackles with the weight of unspoken accusations, each word a serrated edge that lacerates the fragile silence.

Jungkook's fury, a tempestuous force, radiates through the room like a palpable storm. You, caught in the crossfire of emotions, bear witness to a version of him that eclipses any semblance of the Jungkook you once knew. The intensity of his rage is an uncharted territory, a tempest that thrashes against the shores of your understanding.

In this unsettling moment, the atmosphere quivers with an unspoken disquiet, and you realize you're staring into the eyes of a Jungkook you’ve never seen before—a Jungkook consumed by a wrath so potent, it eclipses any prior incarnation of fury.

An alarming realization settles in the pit of your stomach, an unsettling truth that sends tremors through your veins. 

The fear, once a distant whisper, now grips you in its vice-like embrace. A chill snakes down your spine, leaving behind a residue of dread that clouds your senses. 

Your struggles persist, a futile rebellion against a force you know deep down is insurmountable. His strength, an unyielding fortress, renders your resistance as mere whispers in the face of a looming tempest.

“You fucking slut!” 

You’re startled by the venom in his words, each syllable a scalding accusation whispered in the darkness. The heat of his anger lingers in the air as he finally releases his vice-like grip on your throat. Gasping for air, you pant furiously, the raspy intake a cacophony against the stillness of the room. 

The echo of his words reverberates in the hollow of your ear, leaving a lingering imprint of the emotional tempest that has just unfolded. 

“What the fuck are you doing, Jungkook?!” you yell, the words a desperate plea that hangs in the charged atmosphere. 

Your hands instinctively clutch at your throat, already throbbing with the promise of bruises that will adorn your skin like a somber tapestry.

“You can’t moan another fucking man’s name!” 

His words cut through the air like a serrated blade, a furious proclamation that reverberates through the room. The sheer force of his yell, an unrestrained outburst, echoes in the silence that follows, leaving a disquieting aftermath. 

His hands, still clasped around your neck, are a study in contradiction. Once instruments of aggression, they now rest there with an eerie gentleness, a paradoxical caress against the backdrop of earlier violence. 

The juxtaposition is disconcerting, a stark reminder of the volatile duality that resides within him.

Oh. 

So that’s what it’s about. 

The revelation hangs heavy in the air, a sudden understanding that sharpens the edges of the unfolding drama. 

You moaned Jimin’s name in your sleep. 

Well, fuck you. 

You’ve never done that before. His words from before carry the sting of betrayal, a laceration that slices through the tenuous threads of trust. The air, charged with a sense of accusation, thickens with the unspoken weight of expectations shattered. 

Jungkook's frustration, a tempest within, clashes against the reality that you have no fucking control over what you say or dream. He knows, deep down, that it's just dreams, and it's just a fucking name.

“You’d like Jimin to fuck you, huh?” 

His words, dripping with a toxic blend of accusation and taunt, cut through the charged atmosphere. The heated breath against your ear feels like a sinister caress, a reminder of the intimate betrayal he thinks has happened. 

His hands, a trespass against the sanctity of your body, journey beneath the fabric of your nightgown, groping at your breasts with a possessiveness that leaves you breathless.

When he finds your nipples, his fingers close around them like a vice, a merciless pinch that sends a jolt of searing pain through your body. 

Damn hard. 

You can't help but release a frustrated, high-pitched moan in response to the intensity of the sensation. Your body, once open and vulnerable, now curls in on itself, a reflexive attempt to shield against the invasive touch that pierces the silence. 

Jungkook's intense stare, a predatory gaze, lingers on your contorted form, a silent acknowledgment of the power he wields in this intimate realm.

“Fuck!” 

The exclamation escapes your lips, a breathy moan that dissipates against the hollow of his neck. 

The sudden admission of desire hangs in the air, a raw declaration that reverberates through the charged atmosphere. 

Why are you so damn wet already? 

Have you been wet all this time? 

Fuck. 

Amidst the whirlwind of sensations, you're jolted back to his question. 

“No!” 

The frustration in your yell echoes through the room, a desperate proclamation that fights to be heard over the pulsating cadence of your desire. He hovers above you, his eyes blown out with an intensity that mirrors the storm raging within.

“Why did you moan his name then?” 

He taunts you once more, his words a provocative challenge that lingers in the charged air. His eyes, flickering with a mix of curiosity and menace, fixate on your response, waiting for a crack in your composure. 

But you refuse to yield. 

The taunts, like arrows, are deflected by the armor of your determination. In the face of his provocation, your gaze remains steady, a silent defiance that echoes louder than any words.

“It’s just a meaningless dream, Kook!” you plead with an urgency that cuts through the air. 

The room, once a sanctuary, now bears witness to the turbulent current of emotions coursing through your veins. 

A part of you yearns for the respite of sleep, an escape from the unraveling reality. 

But beneath the surface, another part of you, already fucking aroused, is drawn to the magnetic pull of the unfolding tension, an unexpected desire that adds a volatile layer to your plea.

“Nuh uh, sweetheart,” he disagrees, his voice a low murmur that resonates in the charged space between you. His gaze, unwavering, locks onto yours, creating an unspoken bridge that spans the intimate distance.  

Confusion reigns within you, caught in the tumult of conflicting desires. Your body aches with a desperate yearning, craving the immediacy of him and the relief that promises to follow. It hungers for the visceral connection that throbs beneath the surface. 

Yet, your weary mind, tired and burdened by the demands of reality, pulls in the opposite direction, craving the solace of sleep to gather the strength for another relentless workday.

“You’re mine,” he seethes into your ear, the words laced with a possessiveness so raw and primal that it sends shivers down your spine. The tone, a stark departure from his usual demeanor, wraps around you like an invisible tether, anchoring you to the charged moment. 

A possessive declaration that ignites a primal response within, forcing you to stifle a moan, the sound caught between the desire to resist and the longing to surrender.

His hands, guided by an urgency born of desire, trace a tantalizing path down to your already soaked panties. In one fluid motion, he pulls them down to your trembling thighs, letting them pool at your weak knees. 

With a deliberate slowness, he withdraws, rising to his knees, and continues the journey, deftly pulling your panties the rest of the way off your shaking legs. Each deliberate movement is accompanied by a gentle stroke against your skin, his touch leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake.

A sensation courses through you, an involuntary response to the void that lingers within. 

Your pussy clenches and pulsates around emptiness, a physical echo of the desire that courses through your veins. In frustration, a plaintive moan escapes your lips, carrying the weight of unmet longing. 

“Kookie…” 

The name, whispered in the throes of need, becomes a desperate plea that hangs in the air, a tangible testament to the intimate connection teetering on the edge of fulfillment.

“Not you’re Kookie tonight, slut,”

Surprise flickers across your widened eyes, a sudden revelation that sends a jolt through your entire being. In the wake of this unexpected discovery, a fresh wave of arousal crashes over you, an electric current that ignites the dormant embers of desire. 

His fingers trace a tantalizing path, caressing the contours of your most intimate desires. The gentle touch hovers over your clit, sending a shiver through your entire being, and then glides down to your center. With a teasing finesse, he slips two fingers inside, eliciting an involuntary gasp that reverberates through the room. 

“Fuck!” 

The exclamation escapes your lips, a raw expression of the pleasure that courses through your awakened senses.

“That's it, slut. Let the world hear how good I'm making you feel,” he encourages in a husky whisper. His fingers maintain a relentless rhythm, pumping in and out of you with an already fast pace. The intimate connection deepens as he skillfully scissors you open between each deliberate thrust.

A sharp gasp escapes you as he skillfully inserts a third finger, and you can't help but squirm in response to the exquisite stretch. The sensation, a heady mix of pleasure and surrender, courses through you, leaving your body electric with desire. 

Another moan spills from your lips, a testament to the intoxicating pleasure he evokes. With a grip on the sheets above your head, your hands tense and release, palms pressing into the fabric as if trying to anchor yourself in the midst of the overwhelming sensations. 

Suddenly, his tongue finds its way to your clit, and he sucks on it with an intensity that leaves you breathless. The sensation is overwhelming, like a surge of pleasure coursing through every nerve in your body. 

Your senses are pushed to the brink, and it feels as if your body is teetering on the edge of ecstasy. The impending orgasm looms closer, a tidal wave of pleasure that threatens to consume you entirely. 

As the waves of pleasure crash over you, speech escapes you. Your mind, lost in the fog of ecstasy, struggles to process the sheer intensity of the pleasure he bestows upon you. 

The tension in your body becomes palpable, and you find yourself biting down on your bottom lip so hard that a metallic taste of blood fills your mouth. 

Tingles shoot through your entire being, a symphony of pleasure that crescendos to a point where something within you snaps, releasing a flood of euphoria that courses through your tummy and radiates outward.

His voice, dripping with anger, slices through the haze of pleasure that envelops you. 

“Did I say you could come?” he snarls, the words a harsh reminder of the power dynamics at play. 

As he withdraws his face, slick with the remnants of your orgasm, he thrusts his fingers into you with a relentless force, eliciting a gasp that dances on the edge of oversensitivity. 

“Fucking slut,” he sneers, the words laced with both contempt and desire. 

The sting of a spank against your thigh follows, a punishing gesture that reverberates through your body, and a moan spills from your lips in response. 

He's never shown this side of himself to you before, so unfiltered and raw, and damn, do you revel in it. 

The unabashed filthiness of his demeanor is like a magnetic force, drawing you in with an irresistible allure. It's unlike anything you've experienced together, and the sheer novelty of it ignites a wildfire of arousal within you. 

“Now,” his voice, dripping with a potent mix of desire and command, cuts through the charged air, “I’m going to fuck you like the slut you are.” 

The sting of another spank against your thigh punctuates his words, a visceral reminder of the newfound intensity in his demeanor. 

“And you can't come before I say so,” he adds with a fiery determination, his anger palpable in the air.

A nervous gulp reverberates through you, a visible ripple of anticipation. 

You meet his gaze and offer a hesitant nod, the unspoken agreement echoing in the charged silence. 

In that single nod, a myriad of unspoken emotions swirl – acquiescence, vulnerability, and a flicker of desire.

A new flood of wetness cascades over your pussy and inner thighs, an involuntary response to the intoxicating allure of his demeanor. 

The air crackles with the heightened arousal that courses through your veins, a tangible manifestation of the desire that he's ignited within you. Your body, attuned to the unspoken dance between you, betrays your arousal with an undeniable response. 

His presence, magnetic and commanding, fuels the wetness that coats you. As you steal a glance at him, you witness the telltale strain against his boxers, a silent testament to the desire that mirrors your own. 

He peels his boxers down, revealing his dick that springs free from its confinement, proudly asserting its presence against his lower stomach. 

In one swift motion, Jungkook discards his boxers, letting them fall haphazardly to the floor. 

The air crackles with anticipation as he seizes both of your thighs, spreading your legs with a commanding yet tender touch. 

His tongue darts out to wet his lips, a visible response to the mesmerizing sight of your glistening pussy.

He positions his throbbing cock at the entrance of your eager pussy, and you can feel the head of it teasingly dragging along the edges. 

The maddeningly slow dance between desire and fulfillment unfolds, drawing out the anticipation to an almost unbearable level. The intimate connection lingers, a tantalizing prelude that stretches on for what feels like an eternity, leaving you on the brink of frustration.

Satisfied with the teasing foreplay, he assertively presses his throbbing dick into the warmth of your tight walls. 

The initial intrusion sends shudders through your body, leaving you breathless. There's an urgency in his movements, a departure from the usual rhythm, as he relentlessly pushes in, denying you the luxury of time to adjust to his size. 

“You're so big–ah,” you moan, pleasure lacing your voice like a whispered surrender to the overwhelming sensations.

“You're unbelievably tight,” he gasps, his breath hitching with each powerful thrust. 

“But you're taking my cock so damn well.” 

His words, delivered in husky pants, echo the raw intensity of the moment. The pace quickens, and he begins to move in and out of you with an urgency that mirrors the fervor of your shared desire.

From the very first thrust, he unerringly finds your sweet spot, and a guttural moan escapes your lips. The impact sends waves of pleasure through your body, reducing you to putty beneath him. 

Your fingers instinctively dig into his strong biceps, seeking support in the whirlwind of sensation. His tattoos seem to come alive, a mesmerizing dance that mirrors the rhythm of his repeated, powerful thrusts.

The room echoes with the symphony of bodies colliding in a fervent dance. The audible percussion of his powerful thrusts creates a cacophony, filling the air with the heady sound of passion. 

The impact is so forceful that the bed creaks and shifts, colliding with the wall in a rhythm that resonates through the room. The raw and unbridled connection between you two manifests in every resounding slap, a testament to the intensity of the shared desire.

Embarrassment flits through your mind, a fleeting thought in the whirlwind of pleasure as a new wave of orgasmic bliss approaches. 

Yet, any inkling of self-consciousness is swiftly drowned in the overwhelming sensations that your devilish boyfriend is orchestrating. His actions are like a symphony of desire, commanding your full attention and rendering any potential embarrassment inconsequential in the face of the ecstasy unfolding.

“I'm coming,” you manage to gasp out, the words a fragile thread of awareness in the thick fog of arousal that clouds your mind. 

Your voice, a raw and unfiltered expression of ecstasy, punctuates the room, leaving no room for misunderstanding.

“Don't you dare!” he roars, the ferocity of his command slicing through the air. 

With a forceful thrust, he slams into you, eliciting a sharp yelp of pain that reverberates through the room. 

The initial shock subsides, swiftly replaced by an overwhelming surge of pleasure that eclipses the brief discomfort.

“I told you, you can only come when I say so,” he grunts, the command laced with a guttural intensity that reverberates through the air. 

His fingers dig harder into your hips, the pressure a tangible manifestation of his dominance. 

“Slut!” 

The word is spat out with a potent mix of desire and disdain, a dual-edge that cuts through the charged atmosphere.

Whimpers escape your trembling lips, the overwhelming sensations pushing you to the brink. It feels like an exquisite torture, each second an eternity as you teeter on the edge of release. 

Tears, unbidden, trace a delicate dance down your cheeks, a silent testament to the intoxicating mixture of pleasure and restraint.

The temptation to reach for your clit becomes almost unbearable, an instinctual need clawing at the edges of your self-control. 

But the knowledge that Jungkook will lose his carefully contained control if you succumb holds you back.

“Don't you dare moan Jimin's name again!” he roars, the anger in his voice adding a volatile edge to the atmosphere. 

His thrusts, already powerful, escalate to a frenetic pace, a manifestation of his furious control. The rhythmic collision of his balls against your pussy sends electric tingles of pleasure racing up your spine, an involuntary response that mirrors the tumultuous emotions in the room.

All that escapes your lips is a helpless whimper, a fragile sound that hangs in the air. 

The overwhelming sensations, a whirlwind of pleasure and surrender, leave you bereft of coherent words.

“You are mine and only mine,” he breathes into your ear, the words a seductive promise that sends shivers cascading down your body. In the intimate proximity, his voice takes on a possessive timbre, a declaration that resonates with a primal heat. 

“Say it, slut,” he commands, his hands embarking on an exploratory journey down your body until they find your breasts. 

A skilled twist of your nipples elicits a guttural moan from your lips, your back arching involuntarily. The sheer mastery with which he navigates your responses sends shockwaves of pleasure through you, making the impending struggle to hold back your orgasm even more challenging.

Your breaths come in ragged gasps, each inhalation a desperate attempt to anchor yourself in the whirlwind of sensation. 

Despite the overwhelming desire for that elusive release, you channel every ounce of willpower into holding back. 

The tantalizing promise of sweet release hovers just beyond your reach, a tempting beacon in the midst of the passion that threatens to consume you. 

If Jungkook keeps up with his dirty talk and the rhythmic cadence of his thrusts, the impending climax becomes an inevitable, intoxicating destination.

“I’m yours,” you manage to gasp between his relentless thrusts, “only yours.”

A pleased expression plays on his face as he gently caresses your cheek, his touch tender against the canvas of your heated skin. His finger traces over your red, bitten lip with a softness that contrasts starkly with the wild abandon of his thrusts, now growing more fervent by the moment. 

As his movements grow more intense, you find solace in the hope that he, too, is nearing the precipice of ecstasy.

“That's my good girl,” he coos in a taunting voice, the words a sensuous melody that weaves through the charged air. 

His hands, returning to your hips, serve as both an anchor and a testament to the connection between you two. 

“Fuck, I'm close,” he pants, the urgency in his voice mirroring the building crescendo of pleasure. The intimate confession hangs in the air, a raw declaration of vulnerability. 

“You're so damn tight,” he adds, his words a heady blend of desire and admiration. As beads of sweat gather at his hairline, tracing a tantalizing path down to your tummy your breath quickens.

“You're doing such a great job, so I'm gonna reward you,” he says with a strained voice, the promise of a reward hanging in the air like a tempting promise. 

The gradual deceleration of his thrusts makes you think he’s growing tired.

“You can come now,” he pants, the words a breathless command that echoes with the intensity of shared pleasure. 

With a particularly hard thrust, he sneaks one hand down to your clit, his touch igniting sparks of ecstasy as he begins to rub it in circular motions. 

Instantly, your body jolts off the bed, an electric surge coursing through every nerve. 

Your nipples, now achingly erect, stand as a testament to the heightened arousal that has seized you. 

In the throes of pleasure, you release the most obscene moan, a raw and unabashed sound that echoes through the room. 

It's downright pornographic, a symphony of ecstasy that paints the air with the unbridled passion of the moment.

Trembling, the waves of your orgasm ripple through your body like a tidal surge, from the core of your tummy to the very tips of your toes and fingertips. Your muscles, caught in the ecstatic spasms of pleasure, react to the euphoria coursing through you. In the throes of release, your body curls in on itself, a physical manifestation of the intense pleasure that has left you utterly captivated.

Jungkook's thrusts become a symphony of passion, each movement more erratic than the last, as you feel his dick twitch inside your pulsating pussy. 

The air is charged with anticipation, and in a climactic crescendo, he releases a deep, guttural moan, your name escaping his lips like a sacred mantra.

“You're mine,” he breathes, the possessive tone riding the wave of each subsequent thrust as he savors the last echoes of his orgasm. 

His words linger in the charged air, a declaration that reverberates through the room and resonates with the tender intensity of the moment. 

A surge of emotion courses through you, and you can't help but marvel at the profound depth of his claim, wondering how he could have ever entertained a different belief.

Both of you lay there, breathless, the aftermath of passion lingering in the air as he collapses beside you on the bed. 

“That was... different,” you begin, a light chuckle dancing in your voice as you reflect on the shared experience. 

He turns his head, fixing you with a gaze filled with wonder, and in that vulnerable moment, he asks, “the good or bad kind?”

“Good,” you hum in a pleased voice, the resonance of satisfaction woven into the sound. 

With a contented sigh, you snuggle deeper into his warm embrace, the weight of shared intimacy lingering in the air like a comforting embrace.

“But don't you dare choke me like that ever again!” you scold him, the anger palpable in the sting of your hand hitting his broad pectorals. 

“For a second, I thought you were going to kill me,” you assert in a stern voice, fixing him with an unwavering gaze. It's a moment of clarity, a line drawn in the aftermath of passion to communicate that his impulsive action was far from acceptable.

“I'm so sorry. I don't know what came over me,” he breathes out in a slow and steady rhythm. In the dim room, bathed in the soft glow of moonlight seeping through the curtains, you can see his eyes glistening with remorse. 

The shadows dance around him, casting a poignant silhouette as he grapples with the weight of his actions.

“And how the fuck am I going to hide this damn bruise around my neck?” you exclaim, injecting a hint of mockery into your voice. Despite the lingering discomfort, you find a way to shift the atmosphere, attempting to move forward with a lighter mood.

“Make-up?” 

The word hangs in the air, accompanied by a shared chuckle that reverberates against his firm chest where your head rests. The idea of using makeup to conceal what is sure to be a vivid red and purple bruise in the morning seems both futile and amusing. 

Yet, there's a lighthearted acceptance in the laughter, a silent acknowledgment that this unexpected outcome doesn't overshadow the genuine connection shared.

You know deep down that he didn't mean to hurt you. There's a silent understanding that these moments of intensity are exceptions rather than the rule. 

As you lay there, contemplating the promise he made not to repeat such actions, a subtle determination lingers in the air. 

If, however unlikely, he breaks that promise, the unspoken agreement is clear — you'll kick his ass.

You skillfully concealed the bruise with a scarf, despite the summer heat outside. The thin fabric became a delicate shield, a secret shared between you and the material wrapped around your neck.

Almost a week has passed since that intense night, and your sweet and lovely Jungkook has gone above and beyond to express his apologies. 

Each day, he surprises you with thoughtful gestures—a homemade lunch, a meticulously prepared dinner, a drawn bath complete with your favorite movie and a glass of red wine. 

The list of his efforts seems endless. 

You find it endearing, although you can't help but think he doesn't need to try so hard.

It's been an exceptionally challenging week at work, grappling with unruly and disgruntled customers that seem to drain every ounce of your energy. 

The customer-friendly smile you diligently wear every day is wearing thin, the façade cracking under the weight of fatigue. 

Thankfully, the end of the week has arrived – a much-anticipated Friday. 

As you navigate through the final workday, you find solace in the prospect of a relaxing weekend awaiting you at home with your boyfriend.

As you insert the key into the lock of your shared apartment, a tantalizing aroma wafts through the air, instantly embracing you in the comforting warmth of a home-cooked meal. Could it be the savory allure of chicken bulgogi that tickles your senses? 

The enticing scent lingers, drawing you further into the heart of the space you both call home.

Guided by the enticing blend of sweet and spicy aromas, you step into the kitchen, where your boyfriend is immersed in the delicate art of preparing rice. 

The rhythmic sounds of culinary prowess fill the air, creating a harmonious backdrop. However, just as you begin to absorb the culinary symphony, an unexpected rustling emanates from the living room, causing you to cast a quizzical glance at Jungkook. 

“What was that?” you inquire, your curiosity piqued.

Rather than approaching Jungkook immediately, a sense of curiosity compels you to trace the source of the sound. 

As you move toward the living room, the unexpected appearance of Jimin catches you off guard. 

Your eyes widen, and a sudden stillness envelops you, freezing you in your tracks.

“Hello to you too,” Jimin chuckles, his warm smile working like a balm, easing the tension that had gripped your body. 

In his signature style, Jimin sports a plain white loose t-shirt paired with skin-tight black jeans, a combination that seems to be his go-to. 

Glancing back at your boyfriend, you can't help but notice the synchronicity—they're both dressed in identical outfits. 

A chuckle escapes you, amused by the frequent moments when they unwittingly end up matching.

“What brings you here, Jimin?” you inquire, returning to the kitchen. Jimin is busily arranging the table, deftly searching for glasses to complete the setup.

“Just hanging out,” Jimin smiles, effortlessly locating your wine glasses and elegantly setting them on the table.

“I invited him,” Jungkook's voice breaks the air behind you, and you respond with a knowing nod.

“Well, it's lovely to have you here,” you greet Jimin with a warm smile of your own. 

Turning your attention to both men, you offer, “Anything I can do to help?”

“Nah, just sit down and relax, sweetheart,” Jungkook insists, his attention momentarily on the sizzling chicken bulgogi. 

“You've had a stressful week, and we'll take care of you, don't worry.” 

With a gentle smile, you comply, taking a seat at the table. As you ponder what your boyfriend means by ‘we'll take care of you,’ a hint of defiance creeps in – you're more than capable of taking care of yourself, you scoff.

Jimin skillfully pops open a bottle of red wine, handed from Jungkook, and proceeds to pour the rich liquid into your glass, filling it halfway. 

He repeats the ritual with the glasses flanking yours. As he takes a sip, a chuckle escapes his lips, but there's an underlying nervousness that catches your attention. 

Why is he nervous? 

It's just you and Jungkook, after all. You've shared countless meals together.

As you pick up on Jimin's subtle nervous energy, it seems like the air around you has gained an unexpected weight, each passing second heightening the tension. 

Grateful for the distraction, you watch as Jungkook and Jimin finish preparing the dinner, the enticing aroma of chicken bulgogi permeating the room. 

Your love for anything barbecued intensifies, and when Jungkook hands you a bowl filled with rice and succulent bulgogi, you eagerly accept, your mouth watering in anticipation.

Nestled between Jimin and Jungkook, a pleasant silence envelops the dining table. 

The air is filled with the rich aroma of the delicious meal your boyfriend prepared, creating a sensory symphony that adds to the warmth of the moment. As you savor each bite of the scrumptious food and enjoy a sip of wine, you find comfort in the easy companionship shared between you and your friend. 

As you savor the succulent bites of chicken bulgogi, a sense of ease settles over the dinner table. The fragrant steam rises from the plates, mingling with the clink of cutlery against porcelain. 

Lost in the flavors, you're momentarily caught off guard when a gentle hand finds its place on your thigh. 

At first, you assume it's Jungkook, but both of his hands are immersed in the meal. 

Yet, as you glance to your left, Jimin appears engrossed in his own plate. 

Another unexpected squeeze to your thigh jolts you, leaving you mystified. 

Your eyes widen in surprise, and you can't help but wonder, what the heck is Jimin up to?

As you shoot Jimin stern glares, his attention remains frustratingly fixated elsewhere, completely indifferent to your silent warnings. 

Desperate for guidance, you shift your gaze toward Jungkook, hoping for a sign that he might catch on. 

However, it becomes apparent that he's oblivious to Jimin's subtle advances. 

Frustration wells within you as you grapple with the dilemma of how to address the situation without causing unnecessary tension.

Jimin's hand ventures further up your thigh, teetering on the edge of an intimacy that sends shivers cascading down your spine. 

Frustration and uncertainty knot in your stomach. 

Desperate to halt his advances, you clench your thighs together, silently pleading for him to retract without a spoken confrontation. 

Yet, your relief is short-lived as another pair of hands, unmistakably Jungkook's, seize your other thigh and coax your legs apart. 

Confusion sweeps over you, and you shoot a bewildered glance at your boyfriend. The room suddenly feels stifling, as if the temperature has skyrocketed, leaving you breathless and disoriented.

Jungkook's voice, laced with desire, urges, “Be a good girl, sweetheart,” his grip on your thigh tightening as he pulls it firmly against his own. 

Confusion still swirls in your mind, but any attempt to make sense of the situation is interrupted by Jimin's daring fingers, which find your clothed clit beneath the fabric of your dress. 

A soft moan escapes your lips, a vulnerable admission to the electric touch. The desire to close your legs intensifies, yet Jungkook remains insistent, parting them further. 

Closing your eyes, you summon the courage to meet your boyfriend's gaze. What you find are eyes—dark, blown out, brimming with a cocktail of lust, hunger, and a searing fire you've never witnessed before.

Jimin's fingers trace sinuous circles over your clothed clit, the damp fabric clinging uncomfortably to your skin, a silent testament to the arousal that courses through you. 

The inherent wrongness of the situation is overshadowed by the rapid response of your body to his touch. 

It's an electrifying paradox – the knowledge that this should be wrong only intensifies the pleasure that unfurls within you, forcing you to admit, even if just to yourself, that there's an undeniable allure in the forbidden.

He delicately tugs at the hem of your panties, his gaze seeking permission, and he softly breathes, “Can I?” 

The question hangs in the air, charged with anticipation, a silent request that lingers between desire and consent, creating a moment pregnant with the promise of what's about to unfold.

Your eyes dart to your boyfriend, a silent plea for permission, though deep down, you know it's already granted. The room is thick with anticipation, a swirl of confusion and desire. 

You're caught in the whirlwind of conflicting emotions, unsure of how Jungkook is allowing Jimin to touch you this way. 

Yet, the undeniable heat pooling between your thighs pushes you past the confusion, craving the imminent release that hovers on the edge of reality.

Jungkook notices your internal struggle and, with a teasing glint in his eyes, urges you, “Use your words, sweetheart.” 

His voice is a husky whisper, adding to the charged atmosphere that crackles in the air. You feel the weight of his gaze, both demanding and encouraging, pushing you to vocalize the desires that dance on the tip of your tongue.

You gulp, the sound echoing in the charged silence that envelops you. The weight of the word you're about to say hangs in the air, heavy with consequences that could reshape the dynamics of your relationship with Jimin. 

“Yes.”

He moves swiftly, skillfully pulling your panties to the side and grazing his fingers over your pulsating core. 

The raw desire in his voice sends a shiver down your spine, and you can feel the telltale signs of your arousal. 

As he remarks, “Damn, she's already so wet,” you involuntarily clench around nothing, surrendering to the rising tide of pleasure. 

Your eyes close, and you throw your head back in the chair, lost in the sensations coursing through your body, momentarily forgetting the world around you.

Jungkook's deep hums and light chuckles resonate beside you, his fingers tracing soothing patterns on your thigh as Jimin's skilled touch dances tantalizing circles on your clit. 

Your body becomes a paradox, simultaneously tense and pliant. 

Conflicting emotions surge within you—a cocktail of pleasure, guilt, and confusion. The dichotomy of their actions, the pleasure mingled with the unsettling reality that this is your friend, leaves you grappling with a tumultuous whirlwind of sensations. 

Their every touch sends sparks of desire through your conflicted body, a symphony of pleasure and moral questioning echoing in the room.

The wave of your impending orgasm crashes over you with an electrifying intensity, your breath catching in your throat as the sensation builds rapidly.

“I told you, Jimin,” Jungkook asserts, his gaze fixed on you, studying the way your body shivers. 

A sudden realization dawns upon you. 

Have they been discussing you? 

Confusion swirls within, yet a fresh surge of arousal grips you at the mysterious implication behind those words.

Jimin hums in agreement. 

“She's a slut,” Jungkook declares, his fingers exerting a firm squeeze on your thigh. 

The weight of the word hangs in the air, its impact sinking into the atmosphere, leaving you with a mix of discomfort and an unexpected thrill.

Shit. 

A whirlwind of conflicting emotions sweeps through you, leaving you both turned on and uncertain. The proximity of Jungkook, his breath gently caressing your ear, sends electric shivers down your spine, heightening the intensity of the moment.

His words, a seductive command, resonate in your ear, setting your senses ablaze. “Be a good girl and come Jimin's fingers,” he urges, coaxing a frustrated moan from your lips. 

Unsure of what to do with your hands, you grip the table, the anticipation of pleasure and the forbidden adding to the electrifying tension in the air.

With each expert stroke of Jimin's fingers, the tension within you builds, reaching an explosive climax that leaves you trembling. 

Your toes curl involuntarily, and you bite down on your lip to stifle the primal sound threatening to escape. 

As your essence spills out, forming a pool on the chair, you find yourself gasping for air, the aftermath leaving you dazed and questioning the whirlwind of sensations that just unfolded.

Jimin's fingers embark on a sensual journey, tracing the contours of your most intimate place, their skilled movements leaving a trail of heightened anticipation. 

With a deliberate motion, he slips a finger inside, retrieving a sample of your essence. 

A wicked gleam in his eyes, he withdraws his hand and seductively brings his coated digits to his mouth, savoring the taste of your arousal with an intensity that sends shivers down your spine.

An illicit wave washes over you as you witness the sinful spectacle. 

Your entire being shudders in response, caught between the allure of the forbidden and the intoxicating sensations that linger in the charged air.

“She tastes so sweet.” Jimin's husky voice cuts through the charged atmosphere as he licks his fingers with deliberate sensuality. 

The room hangs heavy with tension, and you can't deny the magnetic allure of his actions. It's not that you harbor romantic feelings for your friend, but you'd be lying if you claimed immunity to his undeniable attractiveness. 

The man is a vision of sin, wrapped in a package of irresistible allure, just like your loving boyfriend.

In an unexpected move, your boyfriend joins the sensual dance, his fingers seamlessly intertwining with Jimin's. 

Your body reacts with a jolt of surprise as Jungkook skillfully explores your most intimate places. 

Retrieving his fingers, he mirrors Jimin's actions, savoring the taste of your essence. 

The room pulses with an intoxicating blend of desire and anticipation, leaving you breathless and caught in the whirlwind of their shared seduction.

“Hmm, you're absolutely right,” he purrs, his voice dripping with satisfaction. “A perfect little slut.”

As the waves of pleasure subside, a gentle haze settles over your mind, leaving you in a blissful, slightly dizzy afterglow.

His husky voice, dripping with satisfaction, caresses your ear as he murmurs, “Good girls get rewarded,” coaxing another helpless moan from your lips.

Jimin and Jungkook rise simultaneously, offering you each a helping hand, guiding you towards the sanctuary of your bedroom. 

The conflicting emotions swirl within you—this should be wrong, yet in the magnetic pull of their presence, it feels irresistibly right. 

As they lead you, a comforting certainty blossoms, especially in the ease of Jungkook's demeanor. His calculated assurance hints at a carefully planned orchestration, tailored just for you.

As they guide you towards the bed, a synchronized dance unfolds. 

Jimin skillfully unzips the back of your dress and bra, revealing the vulnerable canvas beneath, while Jungkook, with a tantalizing pull, descends your panties. The orchestrated unveiling leaves you exposed, a willing participant in the unfolding symphony of desire.

Naked vulnerability envelops you as you stand before them, a canvas awaiting the brushstrokes of a masterpiece. 

The uncertainty of the moment swirls around you like a tempest, and the uncharted territory of a threesome stirs a cocktail of nerves and arousal within you. 

Jungkook's apparent ease with the situation raises questions, casting a mysterious allure over the impending encounter.

“It’s okay princess. It’s just me. And Jimin,” his words wash over you like a soothing melody, a promise of tenderness in the midst of anticipation. 

The warmth in his eyes flickers with an unspoken promise, a shared secret between the three of you. 

As he hovers above you, a gentle chuckle dances through the air, a prelude to the uncharted journey ahead. 

“We're just going to take care of you, okay?” 

His voice, a lullaby of reassurance, invites you into the embrace of an unknown yet enticing adventure. You nod in agreement, the subtle taste of excitement mingling with the nervous bite of your lip, laying the foundation for what lies ahead.

“If there’s anything you don’t like, just say so.” 

As he speaks, an unwavering sincerity colors his words, a silent pledge to prioritize your comfort above all. The room becomes a canvas, painted with the shared vulnerability of this intimate encounter. 

As he stands, a subtle anticipation lingers in the air, setting the stage for what's to come. 

Your gaze instinctively falls, revealing a subtle bulge in his pants, a visual prelude to the unspoken desires in the room. 

In harmony, they both shed their layers, a symbolic unveiling that mirrors the unfolding intimacy. Jimin, stripped down to his boxers, gracefully enters the space above your head, a silhouette of desire against the backdrop of shared exploration.

Jungkook settles down on the floor and drags your body back down, so your ass is at the end of the bed. Giving him a perfect view of your dripping pussy, he licks his lips in anticipation. 

In a whisper of promise, Jungkook declares, “I'm going to get you nice and ready.” 

His tongue becomes a sensual artist, tracing an intricate path from your core to the delicate terrain of your clit. Your body quivers, a symphony of anticipation playing through your nerves. 

An instinct to shift on the bed is met with the unyielding strength of Jungkook's arms, firmly anchoring your thighs. 

The dance begins deliberately, a slow exploration that intensifies as two of his fingers join the exquisite journey, entering you with deliberate intent, creating a cadence that echoes the rising tempo of shared desire.

A soft moan escapes your lips as the sensation intensifies, and in the symphony of pleasure, you feel Jimin's warm hands caressing your cheeks, a gentle descent that maps the contours of your body until they reach your breasts. 

Your nipples, already responding to the charged atmosphere, stand erect beneath his touch, sending electric shivers through you.

As Jungkook quickens the pace of his fingers, delving in and out of you with a rhythmic precision, Jimin's lips trace a scorching path across your heated skin. 

The tender press of kisses ignites fires along your collarbones, leaving a trail of warmth that intensifies with every passing moment. 

Moving lower, he captures one nipple in his mouth, the contrast between the heated suction and the cool air sending thrilling sensations coursing through your body. 

The symphony of pleasure orchestrated by both men plays on, reaching new heights of fervor.

As your body arches slightly off the bed, a surge of pleasure courses through you, but Jungkook's firm grip keeps you anchored. 

With the addition of a third finger, a delicious stretching sensation sets in, intensifying the pleasure to new heights. His skilled attention on your clit persists, coaxing another orgasm to build, faster and more tantalizing than before. 

Your head becomes enveloped in a hazy cloud of ecstasy, and all you can do is surrender to the overwhelming waves of pleasure, expressing your bliss through unrestrained moans.

As Jimin decides he's lavished enough attention on the first nipple, he turns his focus to the other, taking it into his warm mouth and delicately tugging on the first one. The sensations are electrifying, an exquisite symphony of pleasure that envelops your senses. 

Each touch, each movement sends waves of ecstasy through your body, and in this moment, everything becomes an intoxicating blend of pleasure that leaves you utterly captivated.

Gasping, you confess, “I'm going to come again.” 

The intensity of pleasure courses through your body, causing your toes to curl and your stomach and pussy to clench in anticipation. The sensations are overwhelming, a symphony of ecstasy that leaves you teetering on the edge of blissful release.

In the throes of your release, Jungkook sucks passionately on your clit, sending shivers through your body. 

Simultaneously, Jimin bites down on your nipple, a teasing sensation that adds an electrifying edge to your pleasure. 

The combination is so intense that you can't help but feel like you'll get whiplash if they maintain this electrifying rhythm.

Jungkook's husky voice pierces through the haze of pleasure. 

“That's it, my good slut” he murmurs, maintaining a slow and deliberate pace with his fingers, syncing perfectly with the waves of your ebbing orgasm. Your breaths come in ragged gasps, and the edges of your vision blur as the intensity of the experience takes hold.

Jimin's appreciative words glide over your heightened senses. 

“She's incredibly responsive,” he observes, his hands skillfully teasing and massaging your breasts. Every touch sends shivers down your spine, amplifying the electrifying sensations that ripple through your body.

Your breaths come in frantic bursts, struggling to match the rhythm set by the two men. 

“Are you good?” Jungkook looks at you, his face glistening with your shared intimacy, an irresistible blend of passion and desire. 

His question hangs in the air, a subtle reminder that you're at the center of this whirlwind, and your response will fuel the flames of the already scorching atmosphere.

“Yeah.”

“Good.” 

The room crackles with an unspoken tension as your boyfriend rises, his boxer-clad arousal on full display. The subtle play of shadows across the fabric highlights every contour, a palpable promise of the passion about to unfold. 

Your gaze locks onto the prominent bulge, a visual cue that sets your pulse racing and stirs a magnetic attraction.

“I want to watch Jimin fuck you,” his words hang in the air, a daring proposition that sends a jolt of surprise through you. 

You glance at your boyfriend, questioning the audacity of such a suggestion. 

As he positions you in front of Jimin, the atmosphere thickens with an alluring tension.

Uncertainty blends with a heady anticipation, leaving you on the edge of curiosity and excitement. 

Would he really allow that? 

The room pulses with a forbidden thrill, an uncharted territory that beckons you to explore its depths.

His gaze meets yours, a mischievous spark dancing in his eyes. Before you can voice your confusion, he begins to unravel the tantalizing plan. 

“I want to watch Jimin take care of you,” he says with a wicked grin, sending a thrill down your spine. 

The unexpected proposal hangs in the air, leaving you both intrigued and slightly uneasy. As the gravity of his words sinks in, a rush of forbidden excitement courses through you.

In that moment, his kiss holds the weight of unspoken promises and secret desires. His lips, firm and demanding, leave you breathless and eager for more.

“Just like you've dreamt about,” he murmurs, his words a delicious blend of command and invitation. 

The air is charged with anticipation as you delve into a realm where fantasies transform into reality, and the boundaries between dreams and waking moments blur into an irresistible dance.

You gently cup his face in your hands, your touch a soothing balm to the storm within him. 

“You know they don't mean anything, Kook,” you reassure, your eyes locked onto his. 

In that intimate exchange, you share a silent understanding that transcends spoken words. Your love is an anchor, grounding him amidst the tempest of insecurities, and the depth of your connection speaks louder than any fleeting doubts.

His words hang in the air, a provocative promise that sends a thrilling shiver down your spine.

“No, none of that. When you dream like a slut, you're gonna get fucked like one,” he declares with a confident smirk, beckoning Jimin to step closer. 

The air is charged with anticipation as you gulp, fully aware that the night is about to unravel into an uncharted territory of pleasure and desire. 

The magnetic pull between you and the two men intensifies, creating an atmosphere where inhibitions fade away, leaving room only for the raw, unbridled passion that awaits.

Jimin confidently takes Jungkook's place, his sculpted physique accentuated by the dim glow of the room. 

Clad in nothing but boxers, a potent bulge strains against the fabric, hinting at the intense desire beneath. The air becomes charged with the unspoken promise of ecstasy, and you find yourself captivated by the raw allure emanating from Jimin's form. 

His eyes lock onto yours, a mischievous glint dancing within, as if he's ready to embark on an exhilarating journey through the realms of pleasure with you.

Your eyes briefly meet your boyfriend's, seeking reassurance and confirmation in the midst of this daring scenario. 

His expression, a mix of approval and anticipation, tells you everything you need to know. 

With a subtle nod, he grants his unspoken consent, fueling the intensity of the moment. The dynamics shift as Jimin steps forward, his presence commanding attention, and the unspoken agreement between the three of you creates a charged atmosphere, leaving you eager to explore the uncharted territories of pleasure.

“Just warm me up a bit before I fuck you, pretty,” 

Jimin's gaze intensifies, pupils dilating with raw desire, and as he discards the last barrier between his arousal and the impending encounter, his words drip with both seduction and anticipation. 

His request, a tantalizing promise of the passion about to unfold, hangs in the air like an electrifying prelude to an intimate symphony. 

As you grab Jimin's dick, you're captivated by the velvety warmth beneath your fingertips. 

His shorter, girthier form seems to pulse with its own heartbeat, a tangible embodiment of the passion that simmers between you. The weight of anticipation hangs in the air, and your mind becomes a canvas for vivid fantasies of the sensations he might evoke. 

Lost in the rhythm of your own movements, you inadvertently drift into a world where the imminent encounter promises both intensity and ecstasy, leaving you blissfully unaware of the passing moments.

As Jimin grins with a hint of mischief, he reassures you with a low, soothing voice, “It's alright, we'll take our time.” 

His anticipation mirrors yours, and as you guide him into your hand, you find a newfound focus. With a subtle yet daring move, you moisten his throbbing length with a well-timed spit, creating an intimate connection that heightens the shared desire between you. 

As Jungkook positions himself behind you, a wave of anticipation courses through your body. 

His lips graze your neck, teasingly gentle, before he surprises you with a nibble that ignites a delicious shiver down your spine. The sensation lingers as he moves to suck on the tender spot, claiming it as his own. 

His actions are both possessive and tender, a contrast that electrifies your senses. Each deliberate movement on your neck serves as a tantalizing prelude, building the atmosphere of shared desire between you.

Jimin swiftly decides that your warm-up has served its purpose, though truth be told, the urgency in his demeanor suggests he was ready from the start. His arousal is palpable, a testament to the anticipation that has been building between you.

“On all fours, pretty,” in a delicate dance of desire, Jimin guides you onto all fours with a firm yet gentle touch. 

The shift in position unveils a vulnerability that sends a shiver down your spine. As you face your boyfriend, the air thickens with a mix of anticipation and shared intimacy. His gaze, filled with both love and arousal, provides a reassuring anchor in this uncharted territory.

On hands and knees, your ass is presented to Jimin, a canvas for the desires that linger in the room. The contrast between the tender smile your boyfriend offers and the hungry gaze in Jimin's eyes creates a captivating tension.

“Condom?” 

In response to Jimin's inquiry, Jungkook moves with purpose, delving into the contents of your nightstand. 

From its depths, he retrieves a condom—an unexpected addition to your usual routine. 

In your five years with Jungkook, such precautions were seldom necessary, relying instead on the reliability of birth control and the familiarity that time had etched into your relationship. 

Yet, in this charged moment, the condom becomes a symbol of caution, a tangible acknowledgment of the unexpected twist this night has taken. 

As Jungkook hands it to Jimin, the air hums with a blend of curiosity and arousal. The foil tears open with a promise, and the unrolling of the condom onto Jimin's dick echoes with a subtle shift in the dynamics.

Jimin's hands cradle the curves of your ass, his touch both tender and possessive. 

His eyes, filled with concern and desire, lock onto yours, seeking affirmation in the depths of your gaze.

“Are you good? Is it okay?” he asks, his voice a breathy murmur that hangs in the charged air. The weight of the question adds a layer of intimacy, as if he's not only seeking permission for the physical act but also ensuring the well-being of your emotions in this uncharted territory.

You nod, a silent agreement, your breath hitching with a mix of anticipation and reassurance.

“You have to use your words, sweetheart, otherwise Jimin isn’t going to fuck you.” 

He whispers, his warm breath caressing your skin. Jungkook's touch on your cheek is feather-light, a stark contrast to the weight of his words that hang in the charged atmosphere. His fingers, tracing the contour of your lips, carry a subtle demand for your verbal affirmation.

“I’m ready.”

As you close your eyes, a whirlwind of conflicting emotions dances in the darkness behind your lids. 

The journey you've embarked upon feels like an irreversible tide, sweeping away the boundaries you once held dear. The nagging sense of wrongness, a lingering echo of societal norms, clashes with the electric current of desire coursing through your veins. 

In this twilight of uncertainty, you ponder the enigma that is your boyfriend's decision to share you with a friend. 

The possessiveness that usually defines him has given way to a new, uncharted territory of shared pleasure. It's a paradoxical blend of arousal and apprehension, and you can't help but wonder how deep this rabbit hole goes.

As Jimin's throbbing cock meets the threshold of your entrance, a charged moment hangs in the air. 

His fingers gently part your cheeks, creating a canvas for the intimate dance about to unfold. The anticipation builds with each tantalizing tease, as the velvet heat of his head grazes your most intimate space, leaving a trail of heated promises. 

With a deliberate slowness, Jimin breaches the sanctuary of your warmth. The gradual descent of his hardness into the depths of your essence paints a vivid picture of shared intimacy. 

As Jimin delves deeper into the cavern of your pussy, a symphony of sensations reverberates through your being. Your moans, a harmonious melody, intertwine with the rhythm of your shared breaths. 

With each inch he claims, you instinctively brace against Jungkook's hips, seeking grounding amidst the waves of pleasure crashing over you. Jimin's girth, an uncharted territory, tests the limits of your accustomed boundaries. 

Yet, the abundant slickness of desire acts as a lubricated guide, easing the journey into an intoxicating dance of connection. The initial stretch, a transient discomfort, is eclipsed by the growing pleasure, a testament to the fluidity of passion and the resilience of your desire-soaked essence.

“Fuck she’s tight!” 

His husky exclamation punctuates the charged air, echoing the tight embrace your core provides. A transient pause follows, as he relishes the depth of connection achieved. In the subsequent languid retreat, every inch of his withdrawal sends tremors of anticipation through your form.

With an emphatic thrust, he surges back into you, a forceful rhythm established from the outset. The intensity of his movements forces your head to bow, a testament to the powerful impact that each plunge delivers. 

The heightened depth of penetration elicits a cascade of sensations, a symphony of pleasure and surrender that resonates with each successive collision.

In the throes of passion, you're a symphony of moans and pants, completely undone by Jimin's fervent movements within you. The intensity of the experience has you lost in a haze of pleasure. 

Just when you think the sensations couldn't escalate any further, you sense Jungkook adjusting his position, a silent promise of more to come.

His gaze on you is intense, devouring every nuance of your response as if committing it to memory. The dark, lustful hunger in his eyes is unmistakable, mirroring the rhythm of Jimin's thrusts. With a seductive confidence, he begins stroking himself, amplifying the erotic spectacle. 

As Jimin continues to plunge into you with a relentless rhythm, you steal a glance at your boyfriend, whose eyes are locked on the explicit scene before him. 

The realization hits you like a tidal wave — he's not just allowing this; he's reveling in the erotic image unfolding in front of him. 

The unexpected turn of events has you reflecting on the twists and turns of desire, leaving you in awe of the unfolding passions that have brought you to this surreal moment.

Inching closer, Jungkook traces a teasing path along your cheek with his finger, a silent invitation. The tension in the room heightens as you catch his unspoken request. Sensing the anticipation, you willingly part your lips, ready for the intimate connection that's about to unfold.

As you take him into your mouth, a soft moan escapes his lips, and he praises you, “That's a good girl.” 

The warmth of your mouth, combined with the intimate act, elicits a hiss of pleasure from him. 

As Jimin maintains the rhythm of his rapid thrusts, a low hum escapes his lips, a primal sound that resonates with the intensity of the moment. “Yeah.”

Jungkook's voice, laced with desire, breaks through the heated air as he urges you, “Just know who you belong to.” 

His words hang in the room, a possessive reminder of the intimate connection shared between you two. As he fights to restrain himself, the anticipation builds, heightening the intensity of the moment before you take him into your mouth again.

His concern echoes in your ears as Jungkook whispers, “Say if it's too much, and we can stop anytime.” 

The sincerity in his voice reflects a genuine care for your comfort, creating a tender contrast to the passionate atmosphere that surrounds you. It's a reminder that, despite the intensity, your boundaries are respected and valued.

As you hum in agreement, the vibrations from your mouth send a tantalizing sensation through Jungkook's cock, eliciting a low moan of pleasure from him. 

“You’re taking me so well, pretty,” in the midst of the intense pleasure, Jimin's praise resonates in the air, heightening the sensations. 

As you clench around him in response, the struggle to balance Jimin's relentless pace and attending to Jungkook's needs becomes apparent. 

Feeling the need to address the moment, you pop off Jungkook’s dick, a breathless pause hanging in the air before you speak.

“Please fuck my mouth,” as your plea for more intensifies, your eyes lock with your boyfriend's, a mixture of desire and need reflected in your gaze. 

Without a second thought, he responds eagerly, thrusting his dick back into your mouth, the air filled with the sounds of your shared passion and the unrestrained symphony of pleasure unfolding.

“Such a dirty slut,” as the explicit words tumble from his lips, your senses are heightened, the raw intensity of the moment swirling around you. 

Each forceful thrust sends shivers down your spine, a delicate dance between pleasure and a hint of pain. 

Tears glisten in your eyes, a testament to the overwhelming sensations that threaten to consume you. Your jaw aches, but you persevere, determined to please him and surrender to the ecstasy of the shared experience.

As the intensity of their movements builds, you find yourself caught in a whirlwind of desire, surrendering to the rhythmic chaos they orchestrate. 

The speed and force leave you breathless, and you resign yourself to the overwhelming pleasure they provide. Your gaze flickers upward, connecting with your boyfriend's eyes, which mirror a cocktail of desire and ecstasy. His furrowed brow betrays the impending climax, a visual symphony playing out as you navigate the tempestuous pleasure they bestow upon you.

As Jimin's breath intertwines with the rhythm of your collective passion, you notice a subtle deceleration in his movements. Each pant resonates with the echoes of desire, a brief respite in the storm of sensations that engulf you. 

“Fuck. I’m not gonna last long,” as Jimin's fervent pace quickens, his ragged breaths become a symphony of impending release. 

The slap on your ass, a visceral punctuation to his words, reverberates through the room.

As you moan, the vibrations reverberate through Jungkook's throbbing length, intensifying the sensations for both of you. 

An overwhelming sense of fullness consumes you, your senses heightened as the anticipation of another impending orgasm courses through your entire being. It's a crescendo building within, promising an intense release that echoes the passion-filled moments leading up to it. 

Your body, already well-acquainted with pleasure tonight, braces itself for the impending explosion of ecstasy, ready to succumb to the relentless waves of bliss.

“Are you gonna come soon, pretty?” 

Jimin's voice, a seductive whisper in your ear, heightens the tension in the room. 

Your response, a throaty moan around your boyfriend's cock, sends a clear signal of the impending release building within you. 

Jungkook, caught in the throes of passion, improvises by gathering your hair into a makeshift ponytail, a gesture both possessive and intimate, “I think that was a yes, Jimin.”

In the heat of the moment, your body responds instinctively to Jimin's touch. 

As his skilled finger traces enticing circles around your clit, you arch your back, a silent plea for more. The pleasure becomes an overwhelming crescendo, pushing you to the brink. 

It's a delicate dance on the precipice of ecstasy, and every stroke of Jimin's finger feels like it might be the one to tip you over the edge. The tension builds, and you're left teetering on the verge, caught between desire and the imminent release that hovers just out of reach.

In the throes of passion, Jungkook's hands explore your body with an intimate familiarity. His touch is both possessive and tender as he effortlessly finds your breasts. 

A surge of pleasure courses through you when he pinches both of your nipples simultaneously, intensifying the sensations that already have you on the edge. In that moment, it's as if every nerve ending in your body is attuned to his every movement, creating a symphony of desire that leaves you breathless and yearning for more.

“Mmmhpf!” your scream morphs into a muffled mon as Jungkook's sizable cock fills your mouth completely, stifling any coherent sound. The sensation is overwhelming, the weight and heat of him stretching your limits.

Your body trembles, legs threatening to give way as an electrifying current courses through you. Gratefully, Jimin secures a firm grip on your hips, ensuring your stability as he relentlessly fucks into you. 

“Fuck!” he exclaims, the raw intensity of the moment etched across his face as you continue to pulsate around him.

Jungkook continues to stroke your cheeks, a mixture of tenderness and dominance, as he relentlessly takes control of your mouth. 

“Such a good girl,” his words echo through the fog of pleasure and the deafening symphony of sensations. 

The ringing in your ears intensifies, drowning out the world around you. 

If your eyes were open, the overwhelming intensity might blind you, yet behind closed lids, your vision blurs, and you surrender to the whirlwind of ecstasy that consumes every inch of your being.

“Where do you want me to come?” Jimin's ragged breaths are punctuated by the question that hangs in the air, sending a shiver down your spine. 

His words, a sultry request, echo through the room, leaving you with a sense of anticipation that lingers in the charged atmosphere.

“On her ass,” Jungkook’s words cut through the heated haze, a directive that adds a new layer of intensity to the already fervent atmosphere. 

The command is uttered with a possessive authority, leaving no room for hesitation. 

As the waves of ecstasy gradually recede, your senses awaken to a heightened state of sensitivity. Every touch, every brush of air against your skin becomes an electrifying caress. 

The aftermath of pleasure leaves you in a vulnerable state, your body still pulsating with the residual echoes of pleasure. 

As Jimin withdraws from the intimate space of your pussy, a sense of emptiness lingers momentarily. 

The subtle sounds of the discarded condom hitting the floor echo the intensity of the moment just shared. 

Then, a tender touch graces your curves as Jimin's hand and warmth retrace the contours of your skin. The rhythmic strokes against his own arousal paint a vivid soundscape, creating a sensual symphony in the dimly lit room. 

The culmination of his pleasure manifests in a cascade of white, anointing your skin in an intimate ritual. His gentleness, juxtaposed against the raw intensity that preceded, leaves you suspended in a fragile moment of post-climactic intimacy.

As Jimin relinquishes the reins, he utters a breathy proclamation, “She's all yours.” 

Seated with an aura of confident dominance, his gaze becomes a spectator to the captivating scene unfolding before him. Your body, an exquisite canvas of desire, moves to the rhythm of Jungkook's fervent thrusts. 

In the symphony of moans and erratic breaths, Jungkook's voice cuts through the air like a possessive crescendo. 

“Always was, always will be,” he declares, his words saturated with a possessiveness that hangs thick in the room. 

The intensity of his thrusts, the raw edge in his voice, and the audacity of sharing you with another - it all collides, creating a complex tapestry of desire and dominance. 

It's a moment that begs the question: how did this man, usually unwavering in his ownership, allow another to partake in this intimate dance with you?

As Jungkook withdraws, his release splatters across your face, a sudden, unexpected warmth that catches you off guard. 

It's a deviation from the anticipated script, but the unpredictable nature of the act only adds to the charged atmosphere. The mixture of surprise and satisfaction dances across your features, leaving a visual echo of the intimate exchange that just transpired. 

As the remnants of their passion linger on your flushed skin, Jungkook's husky voice pierces the air. 

“Such a good slut,” he commends, his fingers tracing a path from your face down to your parted lips, smearing the evidence of his cum into your warm mouth. It's a bold assertion, a tangible connection that blurs the lines between pleasure and possession.

Exhaustion washes over you like a gentle wave, pulling you into the depths of relaxation. The weight of your spent body sinks into the bed, every muscle tingling with a satisfying ache. 

Your eyelids surrender to the soothing darkness, shutting out the remnants of a night that pushed the boundaries of pleasure. 

As you recline in the afterglow, the room echoes with the melody of your contented moans—a symphony of fulfillment. 

Soft warmth caresses your skin, pulling you gently from the depths of slumber. 

The sensation on your face and ass registers—two warm towels, meticulously sweeping away the remnants of a heated encounter.

Jungkook's careful touch graces your face, tenderly gliding over delicate features, while Jimin mirrors the gesture below, cleansing away the traces of their shared passion.

Gentle hands guide you, rolling your body onto your back, a synchronized ballet of care. 

They delicately part your legs, like pages in a book, unveiling the aftermath of shared desire. 

Your voice, a tender moan, escapes in response to their comforting touch, an involuntary melody that lingers in the air—a testament to the intimacy woven into this moment of post-passion tenderness.

Jungkook's voice, a soft caress, breaks through the hazy aftermath. 

“Hi, princess,” he murmurs, his words a gentle acknowledgment of the shared journey. The tenderness in his tone weaves a comforting cocoon around you, a warmth that lingers in the air. 

“You did so good,” he adds, his praise a soothing balm to the vulnerability that lingers after the storm of passion.

Beside him, Jimin hums in agreement, a low vibration that echoes the lingering intimacy in the room. 

“Want to take a shower?” his proposal lingers in the air, a suggestion weighted with the promise of cleansing away not just the physical residue but also the shared moments of illicit pleasure. 

As he glances between you and Jungkook, a silent consensus seems to pass, the unspoken agreement palpable in the subtle nods that bridge understanding between the three of you.

With words caught in the aftermath of passion, you resort to a nod – a subtle affirmation that echoes the complexity of emotions swirling within you.

“We can clean you up better there,” Jungkook says as they lead you towards the bathroom, a sanctuary where water promises both cleansing and renewal, you find yourself caught in the juxtaposition of sensations. 

Their touch, once a tempest of passion, now guides you with a tenderness that belies the intensity that transpired moments ago.

As you navigate the path to the bathroom, a surreal blend of emotions courses through you. 

Physically, you're aware of the lingering sensations, a testament to the shared moments that unfolded. 

However, beyond the tangible, there's a current of emotions, complex and uncharted. 

The paradox of feeling overwhelmed and yet fulfilled creates a tapestry of conflicting sentiments. 

The uncertainty that shrouds the future of your relationship with Jungkook and the dynamics with Jimin remains, but for now, in the cocoon of the present, there's an undeniable aura of bliss, an amalgamation of love and adoration that fills every inch of your being.

What do you think? It got a lot longer than I expected, sorry. I can't write anything short...

[mitsuyaya]

[ make love (one last time) ] tsukishima kei x fem! reader

♡ warnings: MDNI, characters are aged up (18+), angst, mild smut, break-up sex, soft sex, unprotected sex, soft tsukishima, me writing this is a warning itself jk, kinda rushed sksksk 💀

♡ summary: It was the day you dreaded the most, the day you feared to come. He uttered those words, leaving you broken, but instead of letting him go easily you asked for one last wish – to make love like the first time, for the last time.

♡ end note: we crush our hearts together ☝️🤪 I'm sorry tsukki this must be done </3 my entry for @httptamaki (shuffle collab) and @kingkatsuki (frozen hearts collab) thanks for hosting and letting me join <3

shuffle collab (free - prettymuch) | frozen hearts collab

Hey, can we at least have fun before we break up?

The day you finally dreaded has finally come, the scenario that you pushed at the back of your mind– it's all happening in a blink of an eye.

Tsukishima sat at the sofa next to you, his glasses fogged up, breathing heavily as the words he just said resonated. ‘I think we need to break up, this isn't working anymore, we can't fix this’ those words aren't what you wanted to hear, aren't the words that could comfort you because of your incessant fights. It's really happening, and it's happening sooner than you expected.

“You can stay in this house. I'm gonna be staying at Tadashi's. I'm really sorry y/n” over the years you grow quite fond of the new Tsukishima. How he went seemingly soft, still abrasive but not as often as he was younger. So you thought that your fight would be resolved, just like they always do, but it wasn't– it wasn't the same fight you have over and over again. It's not the same fight you'd always laugh about in the end, this time there's nothing that can fix it.

There's no way that a simple apology or even time could heal a relationship that's already fading. The once-joyful and passionate relationship has devolved into anguish, misunderstandings and debacles. There's no fixing a problem that's unfixable when the reason for the breakup is that you both did it yourselves.

“Are you really going to leave me like this?” the words came out a bit offensive, as if you're trying to make him feel bad, to make him realize that he's the only one who wanted all of this. Tsukishima kept his distance, unmoving, still not looking into your direction. He knows it hurts you more than it is to him, he knew you wouldn't take it lightly, he knew you'd be like this and yet he still forced himself to break up with you.

“Look y/n we can't fix this. You have to set me free, set us free” you can't. You don't want to, if being selfish was an option, you'd keep him for yourself. Save yourself from hurting, but hurting him in the process– it isn't fair.

“You're selfish, did you really think I can let you go” you keep your gaze into the frame of you and him, the past lingering in your memories; his eyes twinkling with adoration but he easily masked it with boredom. It's mocking you, ridiculing you.

You felt the sofa bounced, the realization that he finally left your side sinks in, he's leaving, it's done. “You can, trust me it's for the best. Have I ever lied to you?” no– never. Never but that doesn't mean it's that easy to let him go, to forget your love for him.

Every step is unbearable, the longer he stays the heavier the urge to run back to you. He didn't want to end up like this, to leave you like this– he doesn't want to result in this either, but as long as you're with him it wouldn't be better for you– he needed to be freed. You needed to be free. Tsukishima stood by the door, preparing to twist the knob. it's done, it must be done.

“Hey Tsukishima, before you leave… Can you fuck me like the first time?” the question wasn't supposed to sound hopeful, wasn't supposed to make him debate whether to grant it or not. Because he knows once he said yes he'll have trouble letting go again. It wasn't easy, it wasn't easy to decide that he'll let you go– it wasn't easy to say no either.

Eight steps, eight agonizing steps was how many steps he took to come back to you, to be next to you. It took him exactly eight steps to lose all the restraints he has. Eight long strides was all it took to lock his lips with yours, to caress your face the way he does, to taste your sultry lips, one last time.

“You'll regret this y/n” Tsukishima carried you from the couch to head to your bedroom. You weren't the only one who'll regret this though, him as well. He shouldn't be doing this. It's wrong. You'll be broken after this, and so was he. “I know and I don't care”

How you end up naked and a whimpering mess is all a blur, how all your clothes were all discarded, all sprawled up on the floor. How you lay flatly on the bed, your legs folded in half was all hazy. How those disgruntled feelings from earlier shifted into pleasure.

His hands are on your hips, gripping you tight, as he penetrates his cock inside you, hitting your good spot over and over again. This'll be the last time, this'll be the final moment you'll have with him.

“Don't cry stupid, unless that's from pleasure then continue” He's trying to lighten the mood, to lighten the weight your carrying, and you're grateful for it, even if it's nothing compared to the stinging pain you're going through. He cupped your face, wiping your tears with his thumb.

His movements doesn't falter, eager to make you cum, to feel you clamp down on him, to feel your insides and to forget all that was going to happen after this. “Kei, tell me you love me” you sobbed, looking up at him, his eyes focused on you. His face isn't the same when you have sex before, this time it's emotional, it truly is the end. You were thankful that at least he agreed, that he granted your last wish.

“I love you y/n” he kept on staring at your broken yet fucked out state, letting his eyes linger on your upper body, he'll always remember this moment, embedding your face in his heart and mind.

Tsukishima craned his head downward, capturing your lips in a passionate kiss. Savouring your pitiful sobs and delicious moans. He rolled his hips in sync with his lips, moving as slow as sensual– passionately making love with you. “I love you too Kei, so much”

Your first time with Tsukishima is as you remembered, slow and sensual, passionate and overall perfect. How he looks at you with those eyes, pulling you in, making you hope that this was all a dream. It's terrifying to think that he'll leave after this, that this will be the last time you will share the bed, the last time you'd create your shared memory.

“Holy shit! Kei I'm gonna cum-” he slid his arms into your heated bodies to encircle your clit, helping you come faster. He fucked you through your orgasm, fixated on your whole appearance– engraving this exact moment in his mind. He watched as you twitched from sensitivity and overstimulation and yet you still kept on meeting his thrusts, driven to make him cum, to make him feel good.

“Kei, I love you, I love you– cum inside me” he's getting crazy, you're driving him insane. A series of I love you ranged in his ears, hopeful and pitiful– he doesn't want to end here. Tsukishima closed his eyes, feeling his orgasm fast approaching, blinking back the tears he didn't want to acknowledge.

It wasn't supposed to hurt, it wasn't. Bucking his hips a few more times, he finally bottomed out inside you, burying his cock deeper as he unloads his cum. Thrusting several times to shove it inside you, to serve as his farewell souvenir.

It was done. This is final.

It was night when you both took a rest, passing out from exhaustion. Tsukishima cleaned you up, tucked you to bed and prepared you something to eat for when you woke up. Watching you sleep feels wrong, he feels undeserving to see you like this, to see you all broken because of him. “I'm sorry y/n. I have to let you go like this, well now you're free at least.”

He doesn't want to stay any longer– can't when the reasons for staying keep piling up, when the guilt sinks in. He's conflicted; he wants to stay and keep you in his arms, but he wants to leave to keep the both of you from hurting any longer.

He left a chaste kiss into your lips, memorizing how your plump lips taste like. Leaving you in this state, after what he did, made him feel dirty; like those guys who leave hastily to some girl they randomly fucked. But he has no choice, he has to leave, he needs to leave, he has to turn his back and bury this final moment, this wonderful memory.

“Goodbye y/n” regret and contrition flooded his senses. He closed the door glancing at you one last time, this is the end. The sound of the door closing reverberates, he left without realizing that you've been awake all this time, that you heard what he said. That you felt every single word he said.

The ache resurfaced once again, crushing your heart into pieces, he's gone, he'll never return again.

He's free.

He's not yours anymore.

He's free.

“Goodbye Kei”

[jellifysh]

Ngl if I were y/n I would’ve been so mad at jungkook if I was in this situation LOL like Ik it’s not his fault that they’re crazy and stuff but like cmon you could’ve told me(if I was in y/n’s position) before hand that you were literally in a relationship with mobsters and then you decided to r u n away from the wedding and now we’re in this position 💀💀💀 rant over btw you’re writing is so good 🤍🤍

Thank you bestie 🥺 I am asking for as much patience as possible because I straight up don't know what I'm doing this time around

also y/n and Jungkook are ride or die 🤞 literally she would jump off a bridge if he did it first and vice versa, her knowing about them would change nothing because they would never leave each other's side,, there's probably an engagement ring back at their safe house that jk never got to give to her

also also jk one hundred percent did not think that they would come after him, i think when he first ran away the boys were probably like "Whatever" and didn't care and then as time went on they were like "man I wish jk was here" and then looked into finding him again. If they wanted him back from the start, they would've found him way sooner,, he left and was just like "welp, never gonna see those guys again" and joined a spy agency to go off the grid and have fun, and then left aforementioned agency the second he met y/n 🤪 he's living off vibes

[here2bbtstrash]

eeeeee meg you're too nice to me 🫠 i had so much fun writing a little ~holiday movie~ style fluff, so i'm so glad you enjoyed it bb 🥺 and ugh we stan boyfriend joon in this house!!!!!!!

LMAO FOR A JK BIAS YOU REALLY ENJOY THE SLANDER 💀 bug-eyed jk lives in my brain rent-free, i'll never be able to look at a gifset of him all wide-eyed ever again, i'm so sorry baby star candy 😭

weiuhfekrgj i labeled this as a reader-insert but clearly it is actually a meg-insert, consider it a birthday gift, yw bestie 😌💅

i had sooooo much fun putting moni in this omg 🙈 i just love all of the memes about his personality (and the fact that he hates joon) so of course i had to bring a little mischief and sass into him here too 🤪

LOL PLS THE MOM IS ALIVE!!!! ALIVE AND MARRIED I TELL U!!!!!!!

and ofc we love sol the matchmaker~ i was VERY nervous abt writing a child bc i don't know anything about them but i really do like how they turned out. lord knows himbo dad joon needs SOMEBODY to steer his life in the right direction 😩

the winter garden scene 🥺 i'm so glad you liked that part, it just felt so on-brand for joon. stuff like that always melts my little grinch heart during the holidays like fuck capitalism and consumerism just give me PRETTY LIGHTS 👹

ENJOY YOUR MOUTHWASH ILY BYEEEEE

real magic (explicit)

genre: smut, fluff, bangin’ your boss, m attempts kidfic - part of a hyung holiday collab !

pairing: namjoon x reader

summary: the holiday season has never meant anything to you beyond suffering long hours for minimum wage and awaiting the collapse of capitalism— but this year, you’d be willing to add making out with your dilf coffee shop boss to the list.

word count: 16.7k 😩

contains: ~*~explicit sexual content (after kind of a slow burn sorry lol)~*~ the "moving back to your hometown" hallmark trope, a nick jonas poster (yes that's a warning), some taekook slander in the beginning because i thought it was funny, namjoon is so buff and so dumb but so wise and so hot, moni is a little shit, namjoon is a dad!, namjoon's kid uses they/them pronouns but it's not like A Focus of the story it's just flavor, reader thinks joon has a dead wife for like one second 💀 mentions of teenage pregnancy and co-parenting, one incredibly stupid asshole customer lmao, mint choco slander (it's what namjoon would want 😌), obviously there is an employee/boss power dynamic but they talk about it and figure it out because this is namjoon and he overthinks everything, namjoon driving (he's a dad i have to assume he would get his license if he had a literal child!!!!!!!!) and a lotta sentimental holiday and life talk. here are ur sex specific warnings: making out/going to second base in a car in a parking lot (what is it with my namjoons and cars in parking lots yo), fingering, semi-drunk sex, and fuckin' rawwwww with a smidge of size and breeding kink lmao (but she's on the pill!!! no more kids!!!!!!)

A/N: hello hello hi merry crisis this damn fic is finally here lmao~ as i have been babbling on about for days i really really (REALLY) love how this namjoon turned out he's just hesjkrgdhtgk such a fucking himbo but a good dad and wise and did i mention hot aaaaaa 🫠 all the love in my gay little heart to @goodsoop for their barista wisdom and real life experiences that went into this one (the cookie story will never not make me laugh) ! and to @sailoryooons for beta reading this 50 million times and encouraging me when i was convinced it sucked ass, and also for making all the gorgeous banners for this collab 😭

which btw - be sure to go check out @gimmethatagustd & @sailoryooons & @nabiolive 's fics tooooo !!! i've loved collabing with them so very much even when we were all hashtag Going Through It, we got the whole damn hyung line you hear meeeeee 🎁🎁🎁🎁

read on AO3!

Rudely awoken by the incessant beep of your alarm, you open your eyes to find Nick Jonas staring back at you, and you sit up with a scream.

Realization washes over your sleep-addled brain in waves: first, that you aren’t actually staring at a real person. He’s just smizing on a hot pink poster, held up by some remarkably durable masking tape you stuck to the wall fifteen years ago. Second, it comes back to you that you are staring at said poster because you’ve woken up in your childhood bedroom. It’s been left untouched since you were a teenager, like a weird time capsule of all your high school obsessions.

After reaching for your phone to silence the alarm, you kick your way out from under the blankets, trying not to make eye contact with Nick, or Justin, or Zayn as you stumble to the bathroom. The circumstances of your grand return to living in your goddamn parents’ house linger like a bad taste in your mouth, one that all the tongue brushing in the world can’t remove.

It still doesn’t feel real. Taehyung, your best friend in the world since freshman year of college, kicked you out. Sure, it may have been phrased more like a gentle request, but as far as your ego is concerned, it still feels like exile. Banishment, even. The person you thought you could never be parted from made his choice, and he chose his fucking boyfriend over you.

Jungkook. You think the name with all the venom your cold, dead heart can manage as you spit toothpaste into the sink.

Jungkook, the weird, bug-eyed kid who put his toe-socked feet on your couch, drank his banana milk out of your favorite mug, and ate up all of your Samyang ramyeon because he ‘thought it was communal’. 

Jungkook, who ruined your sleep schedule nightly, either by fucking Taehyung senseless on the other side of your paper-thin apartment wall, or by blasting the same four Ariana Grande songs over and over on his bluetooth speaker and singing along in an annoyingly good voice. Either activity would go on well into the early hours of the morning, until you had to bang on the wall so hard you nearly put your fist through it.

Jungkook, whose dog once took a shit right on the floor in the middle of the kitchen.

Bam was cute enough to forgive, of course. But you can never forgive Taehyung for his betrayal. Especially when he knew you’d just been fired from your shitty coffee shop job for the stupidest reason ever, and he didn’t let that derail or even delay him. He still went ahead and delivered the killing blow.

Et tu, Taehyung? you think angrily to yourself as you stand in front of the suitcase containing as much of your closet as you could possibly fit. You still need to go back for your bigger furniture, and little things like your plates and your mugs and your silverware, which Jungkook is probably putting his grimy little fingers all over at this very moment. But until you’ve checked out of your indefinite vacation at the Nightmare Parental Hotel, there doesn’t really seem a point.

If you were less upset, you might take consolation in the fact that your parents aren’t actually here, that they’ve jaunted off to their timeshare until the new year, but you’re busy being too swallowed whole by your misery to find an ounce of joy in any piece of your current reality.

You dig through the pile of clothes until you manage to pull out something halfway decent. The first order of business now that you’ve moved back in is simple: acquire another stupid coffee shop job. You have no plans to stick around long, you just need something seasonal that will give you some meager income while you start looking for a real gig, one that is ideally not in your hometown.

Watching yourself in the mirror as you pull on a simple black blouse and your least-stained pair of jeans, you attempt to mentally dust off your interview skills. You conjure up your best fake smile and customer service voice, both of which are second-nature at this point.

Why do you want this job? “I’m just so passionate about coming home sticky and verbally abused by caffeine-addicted assholes every night.”

What’s your biggest weakness? “Clearly it’s the fact that I’m a ray of fucking sunshine.”

Why were you terminated from your last job? “Oh, well, I attempted to get my previous employer to improve their standards of worker treatment. You see, I selfishly requested that they raise the bar a single notch above hell. Certainly won’t happen again!”

This should go well, you tell yourself, and your reflection grimaces back.

With several hours to kill before your job interview and a growing desire to avoid the weird nostalgia of your childhood that seems to lurk in every corner of your parents’ house, you decide to take a walk.

The sky is bright blue and cloudless, and though the air is brisk, it isn’t terribly windy. You tuck in your earbuds as you shut the front door behind you and pick a direction, aimless, letting your mind wander to the soundtrack of your “seasonal depression” playlist.

A whole new crop of families must have moved into your parents’ neighborhood in the years since you moved out, because the streets are more alive with kids than you can ever remember them being, even when you were a kid yourself. Bikes and scooters lay abandoned on the sidewalks between homes, and you can hear the repeated echo of a basketball dribbling on a driveway, punctuated by distant, playful screaming.

Even in the daytime, you can tell these families have spared no expense when it comes to Christmas decor: some homes have every eave outlined in string lights, some have candy cane stakes dug into the perimeter of their perfectly manicured lawns, and some have been seemingly invaded by small armies of inflatable reindeer and snowmen. You can’t help but giggle a little at the inflatable decorations that have been set to turn off during the day, the way the airless material lays limp in the grass, giving the impression of a yard strewn with dead bodies.

But you remember what it looked like when you drove in last night, everything lit up and brought to life.

Your parents definitely didn’t have inflatable lawn decorations when you were a kid, but you’d get so excited every year when your dad would drag the ladder out and spend the day stringing up the simple rainbow lights you did have. You still remember the little spark of joy you’d feel in your chest when the colors would click on after dark, the way you would run outside every night just to see them twinkle, your breath puffing steam clouds in the air, your bare feet freezing on the ice-cold driveway.

It felt like magic then. But somewhere along the way you grew up. And now that feeling’s gone. Even at night, the lights just look like… lights.

Distracted as you are by the music in your ears and thoughts of your childhood that have brought you to a standstill on the sidewalk, you don’t notice what’s happening until it’s too late. 

A blur of red and white is suddenly circling around and between your legs, and you feel something twining over your ankles, then tugging with a force that threatens to knock you off balance. As you lean forward in an attempt to right yourself, the chaos in question slows enough for you to realize it’s a fluffy white dog in a red sweater, who has excitedly tangled you up in his leash.

You manage to find the looped end of the leash and slowly get yourself unwrapped while the dog continues to pant and jump and occasionally yap at you. With your legs freed, you squat down for a proper greeting, laughing to yourself as he lifts up on his hind legs, balancing his paws on your knee to lick an enthusiastic greeting across your cheek.

“Hi, puppy,” you murmur, trying to get him to hold still long enough to read the name on his tag. A voice beats you to it.

“Moni!”

When you glance up to find Moni’s owner jogging up the sidewalk, you have to make a conscious effort to keep your own tongue in your mouth, because good lord, he is fine.

He’s tall, towering over you even once you bring yourself back up to standing, and the black workout tank and athletic shorts he’s wearing do absolutely nothing to hide the thick, well-defined muscles of his arms, chest, and thighs.

Despite his lack of clothing in the cool winter air, you can see his face and neck are slick with sweat, his white-blonde hair damp with it too. There’s even a dark patch that’s soaked his shirt at his sternum, making the firm swell of his pecs that much more apparent. It takes you an extra second to break eye contact with them, but when you do finally manage to drag your gaze up to meet his, you realize his face is just as nice of a view: honey-tan skin, full lips, and cute dimples that pop as he gives a sheepish, appreciative laugh.

“Thank you,” he says, a little breathless; his voice is deep and slightly husky in a way that makes your face grow hot. You blink stupidly at him for a few moments, your mind reeling, and then it occurs to you that you still have his dog’s leash in your hand.

“No problem,” you manage, handing the looped end back over and double-checking to make sure your ankles are still free from their entanglement. Though now that this man is holding the leash, you kind of wish they weren’t.

“Moni’s usually good about not taking off when I stop to do a circuit,” he explains, like you’re the dog owner police. It makes you wonder what kind of Karens must have moved into this neighborhood since you left it. “I don’t know why he ran, maybe he saw a squirrel or something.”

“It’s okay,” you reassure him with a smile, admiring Moni as he stretches and settles into a polite seated pose. “I like his sweater.”

“Thanks,” he laughs again. “C’mon Mon.”

You can’t help focusing on how big this guy’s hands are as he slips his fingers through the end of Moni’s leash, tugging slightly as if to encourage the dog back in the direction he came from.

Moni blinks and stays right where he is.

“You little shit,” his owner huffs under his breath, and you have to bite down on your bottom lip to keep from laughing. You distantly realize you should probably leave them to it and continue on your walk, but this is too entertaining to turn away from now. Your hot neighbor tries one more futile attempt to get Moni to move, then seems to give up entirely.

He stoops down with a low grunt of effort that makes your core flutter as he grabs the fluffy dog and hoists him up in his arms. You try to force yourself to stop noticing the way his biceps flex, the fact that the muscles of his arms are nearly bigger than your head.

“Thanks again,” he says with a final grateful smile, and your only response is to swallow hard and stand there like an idiot as he turns and carries his spoiled dog back home.

When you arrive for your interview, you’re delighted to discover that Indigo Coffee is nothing like your last job. It’s warm and bright, with large picture windows that flood the space in sunlight, and there’s a cozy personal touch to it, the likes of which you’d certainly never see in your former corporate shell of a workplace. The sitting area is dotted with live edge wood tables and mismatched chairs. There are an array of framed paintings on the walls that look handmade in a good way, simple yet bold brush-stroke lines in a deep blue color scheme. And, you realize as your eyes linger, the shop is absolutely overflowing with plants: in simple clay pots lined up along the windows, free-standing between tables, and tucked into bookshelves placed artfully throughout the space. 

You step closer to inspect one as you wait on your interviewer and are pleased to see that it’s real, that they all are— no waxy fake leaves jammed into a thick block of cement, but real greenery sprouted in real dirt, deep brown soil gone soft from what must have been a recent watering. These are plants someone cares for, coaxed and kept alive by someone’s time and patience and love. The thought makes you smile a little despite yourself.

There’s still fucking Christmas music playing, but you figure that’s inescapable this time of year.

“Are you here for the interview?” someone asks over your shoulder. As you turn away from the plant, you wonder if you’re imagining that the voice in question sounds slightly familiar, and then you find yourself once again staring up at a fine-ass man with white-blonde hair and a sweet pair of dimples.

He’s clearly showered since your last encounter, and is now slightly more covered up in a pair of faded jeans and a gray-green flannel thrown over a black shirt emblazoned with bold white lettering: Protect Trans Kids.

“Oh.” Moni’s owner blinks back at you, and the shock on his face is so apparent that a giggle escapes your lips before you can stop it. “Uh, hi again.”

“Hi,” you echo, equally flustered, before realizing you failed to answer his initial question. “Oh, yeah. Yes. I am. The interview. I’m— that’s me.” So well-spoken, you mentally kick yourself.

One dimple deepens slightly as he extends a hand. “Kim Namjoon. Owner of Indigo Coffee. And the world’s least obedient dog, as you saw earlier.”

You offer your best handshake in return and a smile that you surprisingly don’t have to force as you give Namjoon your name. He gestures to a table in the corner, and you each pull back a chair to have a seat. You try to banish any potential horny thoughts from your brain, but shifting into interview mode proves difficult as he rests his large hands on the table in front of him, drumming idly along to the horribly cheery music.

You manage to tear your gaze away from Namjoon’s fingers when he speaks again. “If it’s cool with you, we can just chat a little? I’m not so good at conducting formal interviews. Too inauthentic.”

It’s like you can feel some of the tension release from your shoulders. “I— yeah. That sounds great.”

“Cool,” he nods, and you try to ignore the rush of heat up your neck at the intensity of his stare. Professional, be professional. “So I saw on your resume that it looks like your last few jobs were out of town. Did you just move here?”

“Moved back,” you say quickly. “Yeah. I grew up here, actually.”

Namjoon’s eyes widen a little in clear interest. “Really? What brings you back?”

You purse your lips as you consider how to phrase it. “My life… kind of fell apart. So. I moved in with my parents for a bit. Like a winner.” His dimples pop when he smiles at your joke, and you drop your gaze to the table. “Just trying to figure out what’s next, and find something seasonal in the meantime.”

“Well, we could certainly use the help,” Namjoon admits. When you chance a glance up, there’s a look on his face like he’s choosing his next words carefully. “I saw in your application that you were terminated from your last position.” He leans in, lowering his voice slightly as he continues. “I’m gonna be honest, I hate that we even ask that question. But can you tell me a bit about what happened?”

You keep your stare fixed on the wood grain in front of you as you try to stay calm. “Well, if I can be honest too...” Squeezing your eyes shut, you tell yourself to just say it. “I was fired for trying to unionize.”

“Oh.” Namjoon sounds surprised, but you can’t manage to look at him. “Really?” You nod slowly, biting down on your bottom lip. “That’s— fucking illegal.”

That makes your gaze snap back up to meet his. His brow is furrowed slightly, a muscle in his jaw pulled tight.

“Yeah,” you say belatedly. “Yeah, I know. They made up a bunch of fake excuses as to why I was fired, but I knew what it really was. It was because I wanted them to actually pay us what we were worth, and hire more workers so we weren’t being scheduled to death. And I was getting everyone else riled up too, and I guess it scared them.”

Namjoon sits back in his chair, folding his arms over his chest. “Huh. Man. Well, I’m sorry that happened to you.”

It takes you a second to process what you’re hearing. Union has always been a scary word for any person in upper management you’ve previously encountered. You hadn’t expected this to be so… easy. For him to understand, or sympathize. “I— yeah. I am too.”

“If it makes you feel any better,” Namjoon continues quickly, “I think it’s great, what you tried to do. I’m very pro-union.” He pauses for a moment, his face twisting slightly in thought. “I mean, admittedly, we don’t have one here. Granted, there are only five of us. I should probably ask, though, if they want one.”

You can’t quite hide your smile. “I’m gonna take a guess that you probably treat your employees pretty well as-is.”

“I try,” he says with a shake of his head. His eyes meet yours again. “So, here’s the deal. You have a ton of experience, and with holiday time off and a few people out sick, I’m super understaffed right now. You seem like you have a good head on your shoulders, and hopefully you feel like you can come to me if you have any issues, without fearing retaliation.”

You blink slowly, and he must be able to read the disbelief on your face. “What I’m saying is I’m offering you the seasonal position,” he clarifies. “Is that— do you, uh, accept?”

“Yes.” The word is chased by a dazed laugh, and Namjoon’s dimples resurface around a small smile.

“Cool. I told you I’m bad at interviews,” he huffs, rubbing a hand at the back of his neck. You try to ignore the swell of his bicep, clearly visible even beneath his bulky flannel. “I know this is a lot to ask, but. Is there any chance you can start, like, right now? Because Jimin’s shift ends in…” He tilts a little, fishing his phone from the front pocket of his jeans, and his mouth drops open in surprise when he gets a glimpse at the time.

“Oh, shit,” Namjoon murmurs, and then he raises his voice to call across the mostly empty store. “Jimin-ah! I’m so sorry!”

You turn around, your gaze landing on the barista leaned up against the counter next to the register. His dyed-gray hair dusts over his eyes, which pull into crescent moons as he laughs. “It’s cool. I knew you were almost done. But I’m gonna clock out now, if she’s good?”

“Yeah,” you answer, turning back to Namjoon. “Yeah, I can start now.”

The two of you move behind the counter, and you sweep your hair up out of your face while Namjoon starts to go through a basic run-down of where everything is located. The overhead bell tinkles as Jimin shoulders the front door open, and he lifts a hand over his head in parting.

“See you after the holidays!”

“Alright,” Namjoon says as he waves to Jimin, a little breathless from having rambled on for the better part of several minutes. “That was a lot. Do you want to just start on register? I feel like that should be easy enough, and I can train you on everything as people come in, since it’s pretty dead right now.”

You shrug. “Works for me.”

Within half an hour, there’s a line out the door, and Namjoon has managed to spill espresso grounds all over his shoes for a second time.

“Ah, shit,” he groans, taking a step back. “Sorry. Been a minute since I’ve had to be back here.”

“It’s okay,” you try to reassure him, but you can see from the faces of the customers who have been waiting on their drinks for several minutes— including one who’s had hers remade three times, all of them incorrect— that it is very much not okay. You certainly lack the people skills to smooth over any of Namjoon’s mistakes, and you can feel a stress-induced eye twitch starting to flare up, brought on by Kelly Clarkson’s incessant yuletide belting.

You give your boss five more minutes, wherein he scalds his hand on the milk steamer, forgets about a cookie in the warmer until it’s burnt entirely black, and nearly turns the blender on with the lid off, before you finally intervene.

“Hey, Namjoon?” You do your best to keep your expression pleasant when he glances over at you, wiping at his brow with the back of his hand. “Maybe we should switch?”

“A-are you sure?” he stammers, apparently torn between wanting to be a good boss and a clear desire to just take the L. “I feel bad, this is literally your first shift.”

“I think I can handle it,” you reassure him, lowering your voice a little. “Let me take care of the drinks, and you can do your… endearing golden retriever thing. Keep the people entertained.”

Color blooms in the apples of his cheeks as his dimples make a brief appearance. “Oh, okay. Can do. Just let me know if you need help.”

You can’t imagine a universe where his clumsiness could in any way be considered helpful, but you keep that thought to yourself as you smile at him. At least he’s cute.

Things improve dramatically once your roles are reversed: as you expected, Namjoon is far more charismatic than he is coordinated, and he chats endlessly with the people waiting on their drinks, hardly pausing long enough to take a breath, while you scramble around trying to get your bearings in a new environment. The steady stream of customers doesn’t let up for the rest of the evening, until the last few finally trickle out of the store a few minutes after close, and you waste no time locking the door behind them with a sigh of relief.

You spin around, letting your back thud against the door for a moment as you watch Namjoon fight with a broom and dustpan in a futile attempt to get espresso dust out of the grout between the tiles. There’s a dull ache starting to thud in your skull, and it’s only deepened by the shrill opening notes of another fucking a cappella song.

“Namjoon?” you ask as you cross toward the counter, and his head instantly snaps up. “Do you think we could maybe turn off the Christmas music?”

“Oh, sure.” He’s already fumbling to grab his phone, and he taps a few buttons until the music suddenly switches, a soft voice starting to croon over an old school beat.

“Thanks,” you say, and you can’t help the pity smile that pulls up your mouth when he returns to his useless task. “I think the grout might be a lost cause, but I can go ahead and mop whenever you’re ready.”

He rights himself with a defeated sigh, nodding his head to the storage closet in the back. You follow his lead to retrieve the mop, then set about filling up the bucket with water and cleaning solution. Namjoon’s voice floats in from the front of the shop as he busies himself with his own closing tasks.

“Imagine smokin’ weed in the street without cops harassin’ / Imagine goin’ to court with no trial / Lifestyle cruisin’ blue Bahama waters / No welfare supporters, more conscious of the way we raise our daughters...”

You’re laughing a little as you roll the bucket out, starting at the door to work your way back. “Is this… Nas?”

He glances up, like he’s just remembered other people exist in the world. “Yeah, sorry. I can turn it off.”

“No, no,” you say quickly when he starts to reach for his phone again. “This is good. Much better than Pentatonix. I’m just… you really know every word.”

Namjoon shrugs, clearly embarrassed. “He’s my favorite.”

The revelation surprises you, and you pause to think as you pull the mop back and forth over the tile floor. It didn’t even occur to you that Namjoon would have a favorite kind of music, apart from the soft elevator muzak you imagine must play on a steady loop in his brain, given the way he fumbles through life.

“I actually wanted to be a rapper,” his voice comes back, and you look up again, your interest piqued. “When I was younger. But you know. Life had other plans.”

“Ah yes, the rapper to coffee shop owner pipeline,” you muse, and he barks a laugh that you wish you didn’t find so hot. Shaking your head, you force yourself to look back down at the espresso-studded tile, doing your best to shove your attraction aside and not think about it. He’s your boss, dumbass.

Still, it’s hard to ignore, particularly as he continues to rap along to each song that comes on, his voice deeper and huskier than you’ve heard it thus far in casual conversation. He doesn’t miss a word, and you can’t deny that it’s impressive. And sexy. Fuck.

Once the floor has been successfully mopped and everything else is put back together, you hop up onto the counter to wait for the tile to dry, and your gaze lingers over Namjoon’s large hands as he cashes out the register. He flips through the bills in time to the music, still humming under his breath as he goes, and you do your best to hold in your laugh when he inevitably loses count and has to start over from the beginning. Thankfully the second attempt sticks, and he smiles proudly to himself as he zips everything up into the deposit bag.

“First shift down,” he announces, as if you might have forgotten, and then his eyes find yours and you swear your breath gets stuck in your throat. “How do you feel?”

It only occurs to you now how close he’s standing to you, and with the way your legs are casually dangling over the edge of the counter, it wouldn’t take much for him to step between them. And god, he’s so damn tall, you’re practically eye-to-eye.

“Uh,” you manage, your mouth suddenly gone dry. “Good. I feel good.”

“That’s good,” he answers, his voice dipping into that throaty tone again. You find yourself wondering absentmindedly if maybe Namjoon has a customer service voice, too, and then for the briefest flash of a moment, his gaze flits from your eyes to your lips and back again. It’s so quick, you can’t be sure it even really happened.

You tell yourself it’s just your exhausted post-shift brain seeing things that aren’t there, wanting this fine-ass man to be into you, too.

A sudden bang on the front door makes you flinch so hard, you come dangerously close to kneeing Namjoon in the crotch. He takes a large step back as you whip around to look over your shoulder, only to see a kid’s face pressed to the glass, framed by two small hands. You’ve never been great at telling the age of children on sight, but this one looks like… maybe a middle schooler?

“Whose fucking kid is that?” you say automatically, blinking, dumbfounded. Namjoon’s laugh is a low rumble behind you.

“That would be mine.”

It takes several days for the shock to wear off. Your boss has a kid. Kim “could’ve burnt the building down with a single cookie” Namjoon is at least partially responsible for keeping another human being alive. Which means you have a crush… on a father.

A father who also happens to be your boss.

You try not to think about any of it.

There’d been brief introductions when you left the shop that first night, but all you’d really managed to glean was the kid’s name, Sol, and their pronouns. As someone who is historically terrible with children, you’d excused yourself the minute Namjoon locked the front door, after what felt like an eternity spent watching him pat each of his pockets twice before he finally managed to find his keys.

“I hope it wasn’t weird,” your boss says out of nowhere in the middle of your next shift, during a much-needed moment of peace after the morning rush. “For you to meet Sol like that. It’s just been hard, since their mom, uh…”

Namjoon trails off, leaving the sentence unfinished. You glance up, eyes widening as you put the pieces together.

“Oh my god,” you breathe. “I’m so sorry.”

His gaze meets yours, and it’s like you can see the wheels in his head turning before he catches up. “No, no,” he says quickly, and then he starts to laugh. “Wow, I really did not start that sentence well. She’s not dead. She just got married, and she’s on her honeymoon for most of December. The logistics have been hard, is what I meant.”

An embarrassed heat creeps up your neck, and your elbows thud against the countertop as you press your face into your hands, attempting to muffle your own laughter. “In my defense,” you groan, “you really made it sound like you had a dead wife.”

“Not dead! She’s fine!” Namjoon’s dimples are as prominent as you’ve ever seen them when you peek up at him from your full-body cringe. “Very much alive, very much not my wife.” The muscles in his arms flex as he crosses them over his chest, leaning up against the counter next to the register. “Never was, actually.”

“Really?” you answer automatically, your damned curiosity getting the better of you.

He nods, his voice a little more serious when he continues, rambling on in the way that you’ve already started to suspect is his default setting, talking as if to fill empty space. “We were seventeen when we got pregnant. I knew we were young then, but I don’t think I really realized. Now that I’m almost thirty, I know: seventeen is fucking young.”

The line of his jaw tightens, thoughtful, as his gaze sweeps over the floor. “I thought I wanted to marry her, or at least felt obligated to. Like it was the right thing to do, but. We didn’t have any money, and then it all got so hectic after Sol was born. Didn’t even take a year for us to realize it wasn’t gonna work, not for us.”

You blink, trying to take in all the new information. “That sounds really hard.”

“It was,” Namjoon admits. “But we were both on the same page about it. That no matter what, Sol had to come first.” He glances up with a shrug. “It’s all good now. She’s a great co-parent, and her new husband is really good for her. And… well, I have Indigo.”

The tinkling of the bell at the front door snaps you out of a daze, makes you realize you’ve been staring at him, dumbfounded. You do your best to shoot Namjoon a soft smile, and to ignore the pang in your chest as he turns to greet the customer that’s just wandered in, already starting to babble on about the weather.

You find yourself more grateful for Namjoon’s presence with each passing shift, in a way that you try to convince yourself is thoroughly platonic. Between fairly steady work and his very steady chatter, your time spent in the warm, sunny space of Indigo turns out to be a good distraction from your own miserable excuse for a life. The repetitive motions of making drink after drink are oddly comforting, and you have to admit, Namjoon really is good with the customers.

“Peppermint mocha to go.”

You do your best to follow up the sentence with a polite smile as you set a drink down for the customer who has done nothing but scowl at you the whole time you were making it. The silent prayer you’ve sent out to the universe that he’ll take whatever personal problem he has elsewhere and leave you alone has clearly gone unanswered.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” he snaps, and you can feel your shoulders creep up towards your ears in anticipation of nothing good. Here we fucking go.

You blink twice, trying to keep your service persona engaged. “I’m sorry, is that not what you ordered?” It is, you know it is, you heard him say it.

“No, that’s mine,” the man quickly responds, reaching out to snatch the cup in a motion that makes you flinch. “But do you hear this fucking song?”

The honest answer is no: at this point the ever-present Christmas music might as well be white noise, so you have to make a conscious effort to tune back in and listen. It’s a few seconds, and then you pick up on the melody. “…Last Christmas?”

“Uh, yeah,” he continues, explaining like you’re stupid. “The original. Last Christmas by Wham!” When it’s clear you still aren’t putting the pieces together, he scoffs in pure frustration. “You just made me lose Whamageddon! I’ve won every year for the last five years, I can’t believe you would even put this on your fucking playlist!”

Your face pulls into an incredulous grimace before you can think to control it. “Uh, I’m sorry, but I didn’t make the—”

He cuts you off. “First off, I don’t need the fucking attitude. And surely you’re at least capable of checking what songs are on there, right? That’s not too advanced for you to handle?”

You didn’t even hear Namjoon walk up from the back office, but he’s suddenly stepping in front of you, and you’re more than glad to move back and let him handle this dude before you end up in jail. “Woah, woah, alright,” Namjoon interjects, his voice loud enough to carry. “What’s going on?”

The man beats you to it. “I’m trying to file a legitimate complaint and she’s rolling her fucking eyes and getting an attitude with me!”

“It’s the song,” you explain briefly, trying to keep everything about your expression neutral. “He’s mad that we’re… playing Wham.”

Namjoon’s face twists in an expression that you would find funny if you weren’t so fucking livid, one that you’re pretty sure is the mirror image of your own reaction minutes earlier. “The song? Seriously?”

You can see the guy scrambling, clearly starting to get embarrassed at his own dramatics. “Alright, I don’t have time for this. I guess I just need to take my business elsewhere, because this is ridiculous. What ever happened to the customer is always right?”

Namjoon goes silent for a minute, and you try to ignore the way the look on his face makes your pulse quicken, thudding brightly in the hollow of your neck. His voice is deadly serious when he speaks again. “I appreciate that you’re upset, but if you’re going to look my employee in the face, after she just performed a service for you, and disrespect her like that? Over a fucking song? Nah, I’m not gonna tolerate it. Maybe the next time you want someone to make you a toothpaste drink, you should take your ass to Starbucks.”

It takes every ounce of strength you have to keep the reaction off your face until the asshole has stormed out the front door, nasty drink in hand. As the bell finally tinkles to signal his departure, you collapse forward, just barely catching yourself on the counter so you don’t crumple straight down to the floor.

“Oh my god.��� Your laugh of disbelief comes out more like a groan, at the ridiculous complaint and your boss’ insanely attractive comeback alike. “I fucking hate this time of year.”

“Hey.” The word is punctuated by Namjoon’s shoulder bumping into yours, and you look back up at him, still laughing a little at your own misery. His eyes search yours, sincere. “Assholes are assholes no matter what season it is. I’m sure that guy finds plenty of things to complain about the other eleven months of the year, too. Don’t let him ruin it for you.”

You can’t help rolling your eyes, if only because you can do it freely now, without a man standing over you and yelling about your ‘bad attitude’. “I guess,” you huff. “And thank you.”

Namjoon shakes his head, like it’s nothing. “Chin up, okay?”

The two of you breeze through closing that night, familiar enough to fall into a steady routine now. You’re wiping everything down behind the counter and humming along to Tupac when Namjoon’s voice drags you back out of your thoughts in a way you’ve already grown accustomed to.

“You know…”

You glance up, only to realize that he’s started to flip chairs on top of tables to clear the floor, and is grabbing them two at a time, one in each hand. The image makes you a little dizzy, and you tell yourself to focus on his words, not his biceps.

“I think we make a pretty good team,” he concludes.

“Yeah,” you breathe, trying to keep your composure at the unexpected compliment. “I was thinking the same thing. And thanks again for, you know. Handling that guy.”

Namjoon shrugs, like it’s nothing. “Hey, you’re doing me a favor, taking this seasonal job. I’m not about to let anyone fuck with you.”

You bite down on a smile as you head towards the back to grab the mop, and then you hear a loud bang on the front door— it’s another sound you’ve gotten used to in your brief time at Indigo. There’s the click of the deadbolt, chased by the tinkling overhead bell and Namjoon’s chiding voice. “Homie, if you break my door I’m gonna make you get a job to pay me back for it.”

“You think I don’t know about child labor laws?” you hear Sol retort, clearly not intimidated, and the attitude in their voice has you biting back a laugh.

Wheeling the mop bucket out of the storage closet, you glance up to see Namjoon jut his chin toward the large front window, indicating Sol to take a seat on the ledge. “Feet off the floor, she’s tryna clean.”

Sol complies, plopping down in the window with their eyes glued to their phone as Namjoon disappears back toward the office to grab his things. You watch as Sol pulls their knees into their chest so their chunky black boots clear the tile, and you can’t help noticing that said boots are adorned with oversized silver bat-shaped buckles, reflecting the amber streetlight gleam that leaks through the window.

“I like your boots,” you say, more to yourself than Sol, half expecting them to be so engrossed in TikTok that they don’t even hear you.

But to your surprise, Sol looks up.

“Thanks,” they say, glancing at their feet. “I just got them. I’m in my post-hardcore era right now.”

The statement is delivered without a trace of irony, and you do your best to hold in another amused giggle as you respond. “Wow, you are… so much cooler than I was when I was your age.”

Sol seems to consider this for a moment, then shrugs. “I mean, you didn’t have the internet back then, right?”

The question hits you like a train, and you have to pause and press a hand over your heart at the impact. “Okay, ouch, I’m not that old.” They grimace apologetically, and you lean up against the mop handle in thought. “But the internet definitely wasn’t like it is now. The only social media that really existed was Myspace, and my parents wouldn’t let me make one. I mostly just used the internet to, like, play RuneScape.”

“Oh shit,” Sol remarks, sounding remarkably like Namjoon in the process. “You played old school?!”

It’s like you can feel your bones crumbling to dust inside your body, and you wince as you resume dragging the mop over the tile. “Hey, back then it was the only kind of RuneScape we had. But yes, you can consider me a… founding father of that game.”

“That’s cool!” they exclaim, sounding so genuine it makes your head spin. When did RuneScape become cool again? “My friends and I play old school all the time. It’s the best, for real.”

You shake your head in disbelief as you continue to mop, and a long pause settles between you, with Sol’s interest clearly returning to their phone.

Fuck, you think to yourself, what else do kids even talk about? Marvel movies? It’s like your mind has gone totally blank, unable to conjure up a single topic of conversation, and you practically huff out an audible sigh of relief when their voice breaks the silence again.

“I think my dad has been happier since you started working here.”

The mop nearly slips out of your hands entirely, and you glance up, eyes wide. “I— really?”

Sol nods, playing absentmindedly with the strings of their black hoodie, then bringing the end of one up to their mouth to gently chew on. “It’s a theory I have. A game theory. I plan to ask additional follow-up questions tonight.”

At this, you can’t help but laugh. “Well, I’m sure your investigation will be very thorough.”

There’s a flash of a dimple in Sol’s cheek, like the mirror image of their dad. “I can tell you what he says, if you want.”

You wonder how telling your own smile is. “I mean… I can’t say I’m not curious.” You’re distantly aware of the sound of the office door closing, chased by Joon whistling to himself, and you lower your voice conspiratorially as you drop the mop back into the bucket. “I look forward to hearing what you find out.”

Monday morning, when you wake up to the omnipresent smize of Nick Jonas, you can’t help smiling back. 

You made it through your first week of work, and it wasn’t even that torturous. And best of all, Namjoon reminded you the night before that Indigo is closed on Mondays, which gives you an entire day to spend as you please. A real day off, which was truly unheard of at your last job, where you’d spend your non-scheduled days still anticipating an incoming emergency text asking you to cover a shift last-minute. More often than not, you’d end up working after all.

“But not today,” you announce to Nick.

A grand plan has already started to form in your head, one that involves a party size bag of Hot Cheetos and all eight episodes of The Fabulous, and yet. There’s a lingering urge at the back of your brain that you can’t quite ignore. With all the day-off energy you can muster, you drag yourself out of bed and tug on a pair of leggings and a sweatshirt, then shuffle into the bathroom to at least make yourself halfway decent.

You’re just going for a quick walk around the block to get some fresh air, you tell yourself. That’s all. Certainly no other reason.

It’s only a few minutes after you step out your front door that a fluffy white blur nearly collides with your shins, and when you stoop down to lift Moni into your arms, you once again can’t keep the smile off your face. Huh, who could’ve seen this coming?

But when you glance up, there’s no hot buff man jogging up the sidewalk after his dog. In fact, you realize as you look back at the ball of fluff in your arms, he isn’t wearing a leash or harness at all, just another cute sweater.

“Are you even supposed to be out here?” you ask Moni. His only answer is to drag his tongue up the side of your face.

You shift him a little in your arms so you can fumble for the tag attached to his collar, and thankfully, there’s an address listed. It takes you a second to get your bearings in the neighborhood, having not lived here for close to a decade, but it eventually comes back to you where the listed street is, and you start to walk. Moni is already blinking sleepily in your arms, clearly enjoying his preferred mode of transportation.

A laugh bubbles up in your chest as you approach the house in question— even if you hadn’t had Moni’s tag to guide you, finding his home would’ve been easy enough as soon as you passed this street, because you can hear old school hip-hop bumping through a speaker despite still being several houses down the block. You suppose Namjoon can get away with it during the day, when all the neighborhood kids are still in school.

As you make your way up the driveway, you realize the music is actually coming from behind the house, and when you follow the path that leads around back, you spot the culprit: a simple wooden-slat fence surrounds the yard, and the gate has been left wide open.

Before you can even make it over the threshold, a familiar voice reaches your ears, sounding much closer than the music. “Ah, shit.”

Namjoon comes barreling through the open gate so fast he practically runs you over, and Moni yaps, like he’s annoyed at being jostled as you quickly try to stumble out of his owner’s path.

“Oh. Uh, hi.”

You wonder if you’ll ever be able to take in how shock looks on Namjoon’s features without giggling a little. Today is certainly not that day. It’s just so endearing, the way his eyes widen and his mouth pulls into a perfect o-shape.

“Hi,” you breathe out around your laughter, trying to ignore the heat that flushes into your face when his dimples appear in return. “I think I found something that belongs to you.”

With a wave of his hand and several profuse thank yous, you follow Namjoon back through the gate, and wait until he firmly shuts it behind you before letting Moni down to trot off across the yard. It’s only now that you take Namjoon in properly: he’s in a gray hoodie under a pair of denim overalls, both of which are splattered artfully with paint in a variety of colors.

“I was just in my studio,” he explains, tipping his head toward the small shed in the yard, which you quickly realize is also the source of the music that led you here. “Doin’ some art. Do you, uh… wanna see?”

“Yeah, okay,” you answer with a nod.

“Fair warning, I’m really bad at it,” he calls over his shoulder as he leads you in the open studio door, raising his voice to be heard over the music. He reaches for his phone, propped up in the windowsill, to turn the volume down a few notches.

There’s an easel up against the far wall holding what must be his current project, a half-finished scene that you realize upon closer inspection is thousands of tiny dots of color, painstakingly blotted onto the canvas to form a mountain landscape at a distance. A few more pieces that he’s already completed have been leaned up against another wall to dry, one featuring an abstract array of featherlight brushstrokes, and another where the paint’s been globbed on in thick layers.

Namjoon is talking a mile a minute as you inspect the canvases. “I thought maybe I’d do cyanotypes today, but it’s not sunny enough, and I’ve made that mistake before. I’m really into texture right now, so I’m trying out some different techniques with paint. I want to get better at pointillism, but it’s a lot harder than you’d think it would be. ‘Cause it’s just dots, right? But you have to be able to see the forest for the trees, too.”

“These are amazing,” you finally manage to murmur, and to your surprise, the compliment actually renders him silent. When you turn back over your shoulder to look at him, he’s glancing down, almost like he’s embarrassed.

“Thanks. But I just do it for fun. ‘Cause I love art.”

“I can tell,” you say, and when he looks up, you offer him a smile you hope reads as encouraging. “Did you make the art at work, too?”

He nods, still sheepish, and that answer also surprises you. You recall thinking on your first day that the paintings hung on the walls looked handmade, but it never crossed your mind that they might have been made by Namjoon’s hands. Maybe because you’ve grown so accustomed to seeing him drop and break things, you haven’t ever considered him as also capable of… creation.

And yet, here he is. Proving you wrong.

“Sorry,” Namjoon’s voice makes you refocus on him, and your brow furrows in confusion at the unexpected apology. “This is literally your one day away from me and here I am, taking up your time. Thanks again for bringing Moni back.”

“It’s okay.” You shrug. “Don’t have much going on today, honestly. I never really know what to do with myself when I’m not working. Which I’m aware is very sad.”

“Well, uh,” Namjoon starts, and when he takes a single step closer, you swear you feel something flutter in your stomach— or maybe lower. “Sol’s got a half-day today, since it’s the last day before break, so I’m picking them up in a bit. And we were gonna go on a hike, probably take Moni too. You’re welcome to join us, if you’d like?”

Your eyes widen at the invitation. “Oh. That sounds great. I mean, if you’re sure I wouldn’t be intruding?”

He shakes his head, the corner of his mouth pulling up just so. “Nah. I actually think Sol really likes you. At least, they wouldn’t stop asking questions about you at dinner last night.”

“Is that right?” You do your best to keep your expression neutral.

Namjoon drives far enough north that there’s actually snow on the ground when you climb out of his front seat. You shove your hands into the pockets of your jacket as you follow him across the gravel parking lot towards the trailhead, a few paces behind Sol and Moni.

Sol shoots an expression of pure mischief at you over their shoulder, and then immediately starts to sprint up the marked path through the woods, Moni easily keeping up.

“Bye, nerds!” you hear them call before they disappear between the trees.

“Stay on the trail!” Namjoon shouts back, sounding as dad-like as you’ve ever heard him, and you can’t help but laugh. The two of you quicken your steps slightly to not fall too far behind, tracking the set of boot and paw-prints they’ve left to mark their trail.

For a moment, it’s silent between you, save the crunching of snow underfoot. It’s nice, being out in nature like this, time spent with Namjoon where you aren’t suffering through Christmas music and ungrateful customers. Where you can just… breathe. It makes you feel a little less sorry for yourself, a little less fixated on your own miserable life.

You glance over at him as that strange seasonal melancholy starts to settle into your bones again. “Are the holidays… better? With a kid?”

Namjoon makes a face, like he’s surprised by the question. “I mean, they’re definitely different. Then again, it’s been a long time since I did the holidays without a kid— not since I was a kid myself. What do you mean by better?”

Self-consciousness washes over you, your gaze drifting down to the path beneath your feet. “I don’t know, there’s just… I can’t shake this weird feeling now that I’m back home. This time of year used to be so exciting for me when I was Sol’s age. Everything felt special. Magical. But now I’m back here, and nothing’s really changed, except me. But I just keep feeling like the magic is gone. It’s… sad.”

He nods, taking a moment before he responds, and he’s chuckling softly to himself when he finally does. “You know, it’s kinda funny. When Sol was younger I actually felt a lot of stress this time of year. I couldn’t really enjoy it, because I was too busy trying to make sure that they had the best holiday I could possibly give them. That they didn’t feel like they were getting any less, since, you know. Their mom and I aren’t together. It’s funny that you bring up the magic, because I put a lot of pressure on myself to make that magic happen. But now that they’re a little older, I don’t know, it’s different.”

“Different how?” you prompt.

A dimple deepens as he hesitates. “It’s gonna sound corny. But really, I realized that the holidays aren’t about the gifts, or the decorations, or every little thing going perfect. You can make yourself sick over that shit, and I did, but kids don’t really care about it.” He pauses, and for a second you think that might be it, but then he keeps going, eyes fixed on the towering pine trees ahead of you.

“The year I opened Indigo, I had sank so much fucking money into it that I was broke. Broke broke. I couldn’t afford a single gift, a tree, not even a turkey. Sol and I sat on the floor of my shitty apartment and ate Chapagetti and watched Friends. And I felt like the biggest fucking failure imaginable. And then you know what happened?”

“What?”

“Sol turned to me, and they said, ‘This is the best Christmas ever, because we get to hang out, just the two of us.’” He blinks a few times, like he’s trying to ward off tears, and his voice comes back slightly less steady than before. “I still don’t know if they said that because they really meant it, or if they could just tell that I needed to hear it. But either way, I thought to myself: how fucking lucky am I, to have such a great kid? Like what did I ever do to deserve them? I still feel that way.”

Namjoon shrugs, as if to shake off the emotion. “I don’t know. Maybe that’s not helpful to you, but. I just see it differently now. It’s not about the what, or the how. It’s about the who. Spending this time of year with the people you care about, and making sure they know you do. That’s the real magic.”

You realize the trail has carried you up the sloping hillside, and is now flattening out at the edge of a clearing, where you can see Moni chasing Sol through the snow, can hear their high-pitched laughter ringing out in the wide-open air.

When you turn back to Namjoon, he’s already looking at you.

“I’m sorry you don’t feel the magic right now. I didn’t either, for a long time. But it does come back, I believe that. It’ll come back for you, too.”

You blink up at him, overwhelmed by his willingness to be so honest, and by the wisdom of his words. “I— thank you,” you finally manage to say.

Namjoon doesn’t answer, just glances up to where Sol and Moni are still playing, and your gaze follows his out over the snow-covered field. Sol is dusting off a sizable stick, and they call out for Moni to fetch before launching it into a dramatic arc, high up in the air.

Moni watches it go, entirely disinterested, then settles onto his haunches in the snow with a yawn.

“You’re so bad at being a dog!” Sol shouts, and that’s enough to make you and Namjoon both dissolve into laughter. They look up at the sound, hands-on-hips, before yelling again, this time in your direction. “My dad said he has a crush on you!”

Your jaw drops open, and Namjoon’s eyes are wide as you’ve ever seen them when you look up at him.

“Damn, dude, you said you were gonna be chill about it!” he exclaims, and you press a hand to your mouth as a fresh wave of giggles overtakes you. Given how long Namjoon’s legs are, it only takes him a few strides to catch up to Sol. You stay a tentative distance behind him, but still close enough to be able to make out their conversation.

“Uncle Hobi says you need to be bolder with women,” Sol chides, matter-of-fact.

“Uncle Hobi says a lot of shit,” Namjoon mutters under his breath.

“He painted my nails,” Sol raises their voice, clearly talking more to you than to their dad, and holds up a hand for you to see, waggling their fingers proudly.

“They look great,” you call out in response.

Namjoon turns back to you as you step in closer, then juts his chin to a bench at the other side of the clearing. “Sit with me for a sec?”

With a nod, you follow him over, and he wipes the metal surface free of snow with his sleeve before gesturing for you to have a seat. For a moment, the two of you sit silently and watch Sol, who is already busying themself with building a snowperson while Moni slow-blinks encouragingly from a distance.

Namjoon’s words chase a heavy sigh. “I’m gonna be real with you, despite the fact that my child just stole my thunder. I like you a lot.”

Your heart swells in your chest, threatening to burst. “I-I like you too,” you stammer back immediately. “Have definitely been harboring my own crush… basically since I started working at Indigo.”

When you turn to look at him, it surprises you a little that he isn’t smiling. You can see a muscle working in his jaw, like he’s nervous.

“That’s the thing,” he finally relents. “Work. I don’t— I hadn’t really planned to tell you how I was feeling, or act on it. Because I’m your boss, and that means, you know. There’s a power dynamic there. And it would be… unethical of me to blur the lines like that, by getting involved with my employee. I wanted you to come out with us today because it was a chance for you and I to be equals, outside of work, but it’s not like that dynamic just goes away, you know? And I feel a little guilty about it now. Because I really like being around you so much, but I just. We can’t. It wouldn’t be right. Not while you’re working for me.”

You stare down at the snow under your boots as you take in his words, and you can’t help it. Try as you might to sit there and take his worries seriously, laughter flutters out of you before you can hold it in.

“What?” Namjoon asks, and you shake your head, trying to compose yourself.

“I really, really appreciate that you gave it so much thought,” you say, willing your voice to stay even. “I mean it.”

“It’s weighed really heavy on me, if I’m honest,” he says solemnly, and you glance over to see him staring into the middle distance, like he’s deep in contemplation.

Before you can stop yourself, you’re reaching out to where his hand rests on the bench between you and covering it with your own.

“Namjoon?” you ask softly, and it seems to snap him out of his trance enough to look back at you.

“Please don’t take this the wrong way,” you preface. “But if I have to choose between you and my stupid seasonal coffee shop job?” The smile starts to flicker over your face again. “Then I quit. I quit right now.”

“Oh thank god,” Namjoon breathes, and you can only make a soft noise of surprise when all at once, he takes your face in his hands and kisses you. You need a split second for the shock to wear off, and then you’re moving your mouth against his, one hand fisting tight in the fabric of his jacket. His lips are full and warm, and it feels like far too soon that he’s pulling back again, his cheeks flushed with color.

“Will you, uh—” he pauses, like he’s remembering how to form a sentence. “Will you still work tomorrow though? Jimin’s back after Christmas, but I really don’t think I can survive a shift on my own.”

“Yeah,” you murmur, still a little breathless from his kiss. “Yeah, I think you’d burn the place down.”

Unable to deny the claim, he laughs brightly as you untangle from each other, then gets to his feet before offering a hand to help you up. “We should head out, it’s gonna get dark soon.”

It’s true: across the wide clearing you can already see the sun threatening to sink back down between the trees, casting a golden-pink light that gleams off the snow and paints the world in warmth.

Sol leads the way back through the woods to the car, tugging Moni along by their leash, while you and Namjoon bring up the rear. You glance over at him a few times to catch him staring, and you scrape your teeth across your bottom lip, unable to keep the smile off your face, unable to stop yourself from mentally replaying the moment when he kissed you, over and over.

Just as you step under the shadow of a large tree, snow-covered branches stretching up toward the clear sky above you, Namjoon stops in the path. It’s so abrupt that you continue a few more paces before you even realize, and then you stop, too, glancing back towards him.

“Hey Sol,” Namjoon calls. “Think you and Moni can make it all the way back to the car in ten seconds?”

“I know what you’re doing,” comes Sol’s cheeky reply, but when Namjoon starts counting backwards from ten, you can hear the crunch of their boots taking off down the path.

“Eight, seven, six…” You watch as Namjoon cranes his neck until he deems Sol far enough out of sight, taking a step toward you as his counting trails off, and you find yourself pulled into him like a magnet. “Come here,” he murmurs, and then his hands are slipping up your waist and guiding you backwards until your back hits the trunk of the tree.

In true Namjoon fashion, he uses way more strength than is necessary for the task, and though your winter jacket cushions you from the impact, you’re smacked against the bark so hard that it knocks a dusting of snow off the branches above you, covering you both in flakes that stick to your hair and eyelashes. The sudden rush of cold makes you gasp into Namjoon’s mouth, but then he’s rolling his tongue over yours and you can’t think about anything else. A heavy pulse has started to thud between your legs at the heat of his breath in your mouth, the way his hips have you pinned to the tree, his body big enough to cover yours entirely.

“Joon,” you find the air to breathe as his lips trail hungrily down the slope of your neck. You rake a hand through his hair, white-blonde strands studded with snow, to try and pull his attention back, despite very much not wanting him to stop. “Joon, we should go. Before someone steals your kid.”

“Yeah,” he murmurs against your skin, and then his mouth is on yours again for one more kiss, like he can’t get enough. “Okay,” he finally grunts as he pulls away, sounding as begrudgingly responsible as you feel. Your head is still spinning; you want nothing more than to stay here and let him kiss you dizzy.

“Let’s go.”

He takes a step back so you can right yourself, reaching out to dust some snow off your jacket, and then the two of you resume walking up the path, sharing a breathless laugh like confidantes. You assume it’s just his standard clumsiness when Namjoon’s hand knocks into yours, but then his fingers are twining through yours purposefully, until you’re pressed palm to palm.

The rush of heat that blooms in your chest at his touch keeps you warm the rest of the way to the car.

Your last shift at Indigo somehow manages to feel exactly like every shift that’s come before it and completely new at the same time.

The work is the same, the steady stream of customers unchanged, the Christmas music still an aggravating soundtrack. But you no longer feel like you have to ignore the butterflies that flutter in your stomach when Namjoon asks you a question, or meets your gaze across the shop.

The only urges you have to suppress are indecent ones, made worse by Namjoon seemingly taking advantage of every opportunity to touch you: hip-checking you when you’re both standing at the front counter, pressing a hand to the small of your back whenever he has to squeeze behind you, leaning in a little closer than necessary to be heard over the noise of the milk steamer. It’s enough to make your breath hitch each time, and you can’t help but wonder if he feels the same relief at not having to hold back anymore.

Towards the end of the night, it surprises you when the typically consistent flow of customers starts to slow down, until it seems to have ceased entirely. You still have two hours to go, but you find yourself staring at the walls, every table empty, having done all the side work you can think of to distract yourself from boredom.

The sound of the front door’s lock clicking shut makes you glance up, only to see Namjoon flipping the open sign over.

“What are you doing?” you ask, blinking dumbfounded, and he looks over his shoulder at you with a shrug.

“It’s Christmas Eve Eve, and I’m the owner, so. We’re closing early. Effective immediately.” The decree makes you laugh a little, and his dimples wink back. “Let’s finish cleaning, I wanna show you something.”

In record time, you find yourself standing outside the front door of Indigo as Namjoon locks up, only tonight your hands are kept warm by the hot chocolates he’d made for the two of you as you closed. He takes his cup back once his hands are free, and you try a tentative sip from yours, now cool enough to drink without burning your mouth. Given what you witnessed of his barista abilities on your first day, you brace yourself for the worst, but your eyes widen in pleasant surprise when the liquid hits your tongue.

“Being a dad means getting really good at a few specific things,” he says by way of explanation as he unlocks his car doors, and you smile as you slip into the passenger seat.

It occurs to you as Namjoon starts to drive that you don’t actually know where he’s taking you, but when you open your mouth to ask at the next red light, he leans over you to fumble open the glovebox and you lose your train of thought. He fishes inside for a few seconds before retrieving a CD case, then makes quick work of prying it open and sliding the disc into the slot on the dash. You attempt to hide your giggle behind the rim of your cup.

“No wonder you like ‘90s music so much. You’re still living there,” you say, nodding to his antiquated stereo, and he smirks as he turns up the volume. 

“This is A Tribe Called Quest,” he remarks, quirking an eyebrow when he looks back at you. “You better show some respect.”

“Yes, sir,” you tease in response, and you don’t miss the color that flushes his cheeks.

The light turns green and he accelerates through the intersection, one hand on the steering wheel, the other reaching across the center console to grip playfully at your leg, a few inches above your knee. You can see his tongue pressed to the inside of his cheek, like he’s considering saying something, but when he finally opens his mouth, it’s just to rap along to the music.

It’s only a few songs later that he’s turning off the main road and following a barely-lit gravel path up to a large grassy parking lot, where he pulls into a space and kills the engine. You squint through the windshield, tucking your now-empty drink into the cupholder, but you can’t make out much except dusk and some vague lights over a hill in the distance.

“Was this crush thing just a ploy to murder me?” you quip, and Namjoon looks a little nervous when you glance over, like he took the question to heart. “I’m kidding,” you clarify quickly.

His voice comes out surprisingly soft. “This is one of my favorite things to do during the holidays. Thought it might help with, you know. The magic.”

Something cracks open inside you as you look back at him. “That’s… really sweet.”

“Ah,” he says, as if to dismiss the compliment. “You haven’t seen it yet. Maybe you’ll hate it. Come on.”

The two of you climb out of his car to start your trek to whatever he has in store, heading in the direction of the lights, and Namjoon’s hand slips into yours, like it’s already second nature. Easy and sweet. You grip tight to him, the night air colder now than it was when you left work, but then you finally crest over the hill, and the temperature is suddenly the furthest thing from your mind.

It takes you a moment to even understand what you’re looking at. The place is clearly some kind of arboretum, as the path ahead of you snakes through a perfectly manicured garden of various plants, but the only thing you can focus on are the lights. Every tree, bush, shrub, and other kind of greenery that lines the walkway has been intricately strung up with lights, each one boasting a different hue. The end result is nothing short of dazzling— a veritable rainbow of light and life and color, glittering diamond-bright against the deep-set night around you.

“Namjoon,” you breathe. “This is beautiful.”

There’s a dimple flickering at the corner of his mouth when you look up at him. “Thought you might like it.”

“I can’t believe I never knew this was here,” you remark, your eyes wide and blinking as you try to take it all in.

“Hey,” he answers with a shrug. “Maybe your hometown still has a few good surprises left in it.” You exhale a laugh as you lean into his side and he squeezes your joined hands; you can’t help feeling like you’ve already found the greatest surprise of them all.

After an hour spent wandering through the displays, each one more breathtaking than the last, Namjoon diverts you toward a small food stand. He comes away from the counter with a paper carton filled to the brim with long ropes of twisted, fried dough, warm enough to release steam into the air when you tear one apart to share, and dusted with cinnamon sugar that sticks to your fingertips.

The two of you take a few steps back down the path until you’re under an archway of glowing golden lights, then eventually come to a standstill, too hungry to do anything except devour your food.

Namjoon speaks first, mid-chew. “Can I ask you a question?”

“What’s up?” you answer as you reach for another piece.

He swallows, swiping the back of his hand over his mouth before he continues. “At your interview, you said your life fell apart. What happened?”

“Oh.” You smirk as you rip the braided dough in two, then in two again, before popping it into your mouth. “It seems a little silly now, but. I got fired from that last job, like I told you. And the same day, my roommate pretty much kicked me out of the apartment, because he wanted his boyfriend to move in. He was also my best friend, so. It stung a little. A lot. Moving back in with your parents at this age is humbling, to say the least. Feels a lot like starting over.”

Namjoon hums, like he understands. “I’m sorry about your friend.”

“Eh,” you respond noncommittally. “I should probably be happy for him. The timing just… wasn’t amazing.”

“You know,” he murmurs, thoughtful. “I thought my life was over when my ex and I got pregnant. Not even eighteen and about to be a dad. I really felt like… I don’t know, like that was it for me.” You nod slowly, unable to even fathom what that must’ve been like.

“But, here I am. Still alive.” Namjoon flashes you a grin, and you find yourself smiling back. “Still figuring it out. I actually feel like I’ve learned a lot from watching Sol grow up. They’re like—” He shakes his head, as if at a momentary loss for words. “They’re like a different person every month, I swear. What they’re into, how they dress. Who they wanna be. It makes me feel, I don’t know. Like it’s okay. Like I can change too.” He shrugs. “That’s the thing about life. It’s long. And even when you feel like it’s ended… it keeps going anyway.”

His words wash over you, and you’re so in awe that you can’t help but laugh.

“Ah, sorry.” He grimaces, suddenly self-conscious. “I know that was corny.”

“No, no,” you interject, trying to keep your composure. “I just think you are like, literally the wisest person I’ve ever met.”

The lights glimmering overhead aren’t enough to hide the way Namjoon blushes at the compliment, and then he pauses, as if recalling something. “Didn’t I nearly run the blender with the lid off on your first day?”

You double-over at the memory, and he’s laughing now, too. “Okay, okay. Fair point.” 

The thought keeps circling around in your brain as you dust cinnamon sugar from each other’s jackets and continue your way around the rest of the gardens, occasionally pausing to trade sticky-sweet kisses in the twinkling glow: you don’t want the night to end. You keep glancing over at Namjoon, wondering if he’s feeling the same way as he drives you back into town, the heat in his car on full blast, the CD player still underscoring your conversation.

“So, what do your Christmas plans look like?” he asks, eyes flitting briefly from the road to meet your gaze.

You fiddle with a button on your coat, wishing you had a less depressing answer. “I was just gonna spend it by myself. My parents already had a vacation in Hawaii planned, so I’m gonna do what I always do: hole up with booze and snacks and wait for it all to be over.”

He chuckles, tapping his fingertips absentmindedly against the steering wheel. “Well, I have about a hundred presents to wrap tomorrow night while Sol’s at their mom’s. Why don’t you come over and help? I can even provide the booze.” There’s a pause, and his voice comes back softer before you can respond. “You shouldn’t be alone.”

The corner of your mouth tugs up at his sincerity, the way he gently cares for you, has since day one. “Yeah, okay. I mean, you had me at free alcohol.”

Just like that, Namjoon is already turning back into the Indigo parking lot, where your car sits waiting for you. The two of you shrug off your seatbelts once he’s pulled into a space and parked, and he reaches to turn down the music before shifting in his seat to get a better look at you.

“So,” he starts, clearing his throat a little. “You are officially no longer my employee.”

“And you are no longer my boss,” you answer back, and a thrill buzzes in your chest at the statement.

“Which means,” he continues, doing his best to lean over the center console, “I can do this.” He barely finishes getting the words out before his mouth is on yours, your eyes fluttering closed, his kisses far less chaste than the ones you shared earlier. They’re open-mouthed and urgent this time, with Namjoon slipping his tongue into the heat of your mouth like he’s been waiting all night for it.

“Uh-huh,” you murmur between kisses, and then he dips his head lower, until his lips find the join of your neck and shoulder.

“And this,” he purrs before kissing you just as hungrily there, tongue-first. You can’t hold back the soft noise his mouth pulls out of you.

“Fuck,” you breathe as he sucks gently over the same spot, with just enough pressure to make you writhe in your seat. A shiver rolls up your spine when he hums against your skin, clearly pleased at your reaction.

“And, uh…” You slowly blink your eyes open when you feel the warmth of his breath dissipate, and he’s looking at you with his brow furrowed, as if attempting some difficult mental math. “Actually—” He reaches down for the lever to adjust his seat, and it drops all the way back with a graceless thud that makes a laugh flutter out of you. “Maybe you could take your jacket off and come over here?”

You don’t need him to ask you twice, and you’re moving quickly as you peel out of the thick material and scramble across the console to straddle him. You both groan a little when you duck down to press your mouth to his again, all of this suddenly feeling much more real now that you’re basically horizontal. His hands alight on your hips, tentative, like he isn’t quite sure what to do with them, and you smile against his lips.

“Touch me, Joon,” you instruct, and he does as he’s told.

His hands are warm as he slips them beneath the hem of your shirt, trailing over your skin until he reaches the band of your bra. When you hum encouragingly into his mouth, he keeps going, pushing the fabric up your chest so your tits spill free from their confinement. He cups one in each hand, and though you might’ve expected him to be clumsy or rough, given everything you’ve seen of him thus far, you’re surprised to instead find that he’s gentle, thumbs circling your nipples with just the right amount of pressure to tighten them into stiff peaks.

Unable to bite back your whimper at the heat that blossoms through you at his touch, at how much more of him you need, you pull away just enough to break your kiss, glancing up through the back window of his car to confirm the parking lot is still empty.

Namjoon groans low in his throat when you reach down to tug up the hem of your shirt, shifting a little on top of him to give him better access. He doesn’t hesitate, thumb still working at one nipple while he takes the other into his mouth, and your sigh of relief comes edged with a soft moan when he swirls his tongue over the bud of your breast.

“Shit,” you gasp. “Feels so fucking good.”

He pulls off with a wet pop to switch sides, and the slick heat of his mouth sends bolt after bolt of arousal through you until there’s a dull ache of need thudding between your legs. As you roll your hips in desperate search of friction, you can feel him beneath you, straining hard against the fabric of his jeans.

Namjoon pulls his mouth off your breast, letting out a hoarse laugh when you shift to drop your forehead against his collarbone with a groan, horny enough to practically be delirious. “I hate that I’m even saying this,” he rasps, “but I really can’t have sex in a car. I’m too—”

“Big?” you offer, and there’s a smile on his lips as he presses a kiss to your temple.

“I was going to say old.”

You can’t help giggling as you lean up to find his mouth with yours again. Namjoon kisses you a little while longer, lazily, his hands still kneading gently at your tits, until he finally tips his head back, heaving a sigh up to the roof of his car. “Okay, okay. You should go.” His tone is reluctant, like it’s the last thing he wants. “It’s late. And my jeans fucking hurt.”

There’s a self-satisfied smirk toying at your mouth as you sit up, tugging your bra and shirt back into place and not missing the bulge in Namjoon’s pants where your hips meet his. “I will take the blame for that one.”

He folds his hands behind his head, biceps and dimples on full display. “Damn straight.”

You lean down for one more kiss, letting it linger before you make your way back over the center console to retrieve your jacket. “Have a good night, Joon,” you murmur as you reach for the door handle, and when you glance back, his eyes are fixed on you, still heavy-lidded with lust.

“Get home safe. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“I have booze, as promised.” Namjoon’s voice echoes in from the kitchen as you kick off your boots and hang your coat up at his front door come Christmas Eve. The aroma hits your nose as your socked feet pad down the hall to follow him: the spice of cinnamon and clove, paired with a hint of citrus. It smells like the holidays, like home.

“Mulled wine?” you wager a guess, and he nods, turning away from the stove to retrieve two mugs from a cabinet.

“I halved the recipe, since it’s just us,” he explains, mouth pulling down at the corners as he starts to ladle out servings from the pot full of deep red liquid. “Still made a lot, though.”

Your eyes drift across the kitchen until they land on the two empty bottles of red sitting next to the sink, and that makes you pause for a moment to consider. “So the original recipe called for four bottles?”

Namjoon’s brow is furrowed when he glances up, and then he follows your gaze, and a look of delayed understanding washes over him. “Oh, fuck.”

Your elbows dig into the kitchen island as you press your hands to your mouth, as if to physically hold in your laughter. “Did you… halve everything in the recipe except the wine?”

His eyes drop closed as he nods, his answer a resigned sigh. “Yeah. Yes, I did.”

You can’t help yourself: all at once, you’re circling around to join Namjoon behind the stove, so you can take his face in your hands and pull his mouth down to yours. He makes a soft noise of surprise, but then his lips fall into rhythm, kissing you hard enough to knock the air out of your lungs. Even through the fabric of your shirt, his large hands are warm when they slide over the small of your back, and then they keep going, until you finally break the kiss with another laugh when he reaches his final target and outright grabs your ass.

“Not the reaction I anticipated,” Namjoon admits, paired with a teasing squeeze. “But I’ll take it.”

You look up at him through your lashes, pressing your palms flat to the firm plane of his chest. “A very wise friend of mine once told me that the holidays aren’t about every little thing going perfect. I thought maybe you needed a reminder.”

His dimples deepen as his eyes search yours, and his voice is lower in his throat when he responds. “I think that fool was just sayin’ words because a pretty girl asked him a question.”

Heat flushes your face as you smile back. “Well, they were very good words.” You drop your gaze to the pot on the stove. “Come on, I bet we can salvage this.”

Determined to save Christmas, you throw in another handful of spices, chased with a few glugs from a bottle of orange juice Namjoon heroically digs out of the back of the fridge. After a few more minutes of simmering, you take a tentative sip of the mixture to find it perfectly adequate.

“I guess we just have to drink twice as much now,” Namjoon quips, filling up two fresh mugs with the remedied wine. You raise an eyebrow back at him, as if to accept the challenge, while you tap your drinks together in a cheers.

By the time you realize that a double-batch of mulled wine and gift-wrapping don’t exactly go together, it’s already too late. The booze makes Namjoon’s big hands go even clumsier, the few presents he attempts an absolute disaster, and you can’t stop laughing long enough to be of any help. At one point he reaches up to cup your jaw for a kiss, but completely misjudges the distance, deftly knocking into his half-drunk mug and spilling the contents all over a tube of wrapping paper and the crotch of your jeans.

You dissolve into giggles until you can scarcely breathe, scooting your chair a few inches back from the table as he jumps up to grab something to soak up the mess. “It’s okay, it’s okay,” you manage to gasp when he returns, immediately focused on cleaning you up first. You wave him away as you get to your feet. “Seriously, it’s not that bad, it’s mostly the table.”

“Jesus,” Namjoon groans as he drops the kitchen towels in his hands onto the wooden surface, doing his best to soak up the puddle, though there’s no saving the ruined gift-wrap.

“It’s not a big deal,” you murmur as he turns back, once again examining the extent of the damage done to your clothes. A shiver rolls through you as his thumb brushes over the waistband of your jeans, and he grimaces a little.

“This is probably gonna stain.”

“I mean…” Your pulse starts to quicken as his fingertips linger where they are, and Namjoon’s gaze flits up to meet yours when you speak, clearly hearing a shift in your tone of voice. “I could just… take them off.”

A smile teases at the corner of your mouth when his eyes widen. “Yeah,” he breathes, then seems to self-correct. “I mean, uh. If-if that’s something you would feel comfortable doing.”

You’re already reaching to undo the button, and then Namjoon takes over to tug open the zipper and push the fabric down your legs, and your nipples tighten beneath your bra at the reminder of how gentle his large hands can be. His lips find yours again and you don’t hesitate to lick into his mouth, jostling slightly as you try to make out with him and kick your pants the rest of the way off at the same time. It’s graceless, but you manage to make it work, and then he pulls away from you to glance back down.

“It looks like a little got on your shirt, too.”

He’s right, you realize: there are faint purple marks splattered just above the hem of your long-sleeve, and you smirk as you look up at him.

“If I didn’t know you better, I’d think you did this on purpose,” you tease, and then in one swift move you pull your shirt over your head, letting it drop to the kitchen floor next to your discarded jeans.

Namjoon’s hands are instantly on your bare skin, trailing heat as they trace the curve from your hip to your waist, and your breath hitches as he ducks down to brush his lips over your collarbone. The low tone of his voice reverberates through you when he speaks against your skin. “I like to think I could’ve gotten you naked tonight even without being an accident-prone idiot.”

You run a hand along the line of his jaw, tipping his head up to seek a kiss, before leaning back to murmur, “I guess we’ll never know.”

He kisses you again, and the two of you stumble across the threshold into the living room, pausing along the way to peel off his sweater and then his jeans, laughing into each other’s mouths, just drunk enough to lack any semblance of coordination you might have otherwise had.

When you drop down to lay back on his sofa, you’re both stripped to your underwear, and you can feel the thick bulge of him, pressing firm-heavy heat into your thigh as he settles his hips between your spread legs.

Namjoon’s eyes roam over your body beneath him, and then he’s tugging the lace of your panties to the side to slip a finger into your drenched center, beckoning it up to rub you just right. Your mouth drops open as he traces slow circles against your front wall, and when he adds a second digit, you can’t help but whimper softly at the stretch. It thrums through you like your lingering red wine buzz, hot and thick and good enough to get lost in, your head dropping back on the couch cushions as your hips rock up into his touch.

“Goddamn,” Namjoon groans, and your eyes flutter open again to take him in, his gaze heavy-lidded as he watches his fingers disappear up into you, coaxing slick sounds out with each pump of his hand. “I had a whole plan,” he rasps. “To take my time. But, fuck, I really want to fuck you.”

“It’s okay, Joon,” you breathe, not sure how much longer you could stand the torturous feeling of his clothed cock grinding into your thigh, so close to where you want him. An ache throbs in your cunt, needy, plugged up with two fingers but still begging for more. “Just fuck me.”

Realization flashes over his face, and then he suddenly heaves a sigh, looking defeated. You have to bite back a noise at the loss as he withdraws his fingers. “I— there’s an obvious joke here, but. I don’t have any condoms. Or if I do, they’re definitely expired.”

It takes you a second to process the revelation, and then you reach up to pull him down to you, smiling when he hums surprise into your mouth at the unexpected response. Your lips linger on his, and then you tip your head to press a kiss to the slope of his neck, not quite able to maintain eye contact as you murmur, “I mean. I’m on the pill, and I’m clean. So.”

“Yeah?” he replies, and your nose bumps against his shoulder as you nod. “Me too. Well, I-I’m clean, I mean. I’m not on the pill.”

You can’t help the giggle that slips out as you look up at him. “Right, no, I get it.”

“Sorry,” Namjoon huffs a laugh in return, his face flushing a little. “I talk a lot, when I’m nervous.”

“I just thought it was an all-the-time thing,” you admit, and the color in his cheeks deepens.

“I’m just always nervous around you.”

Your mouth seeks his out for a kiss sweeter than the last, slower for his shy honesty and the hummingbird thrum of your heartbeat behind your ribs. The heat of his breath ghosts over your lips when you tip back to answer, “You don’t have to be.”

“So, you’re okay?” he asks, almost reverent with his question. “If we—if I don’t—”

“Please,” you insist, and it’s all the encouragement he needs.

With remarkably little fumbling, he drags the lace of your panties down your legs, letting you kick them the rest of the way off while he moves up to unclasp your bra. You slip the straps off your shoulders and drop it over the edge of the couch, then watch as he shifts to strip out of his boxers, freeing his cock with enough force that it smacks against his abdomen with a hefty thud.

You swallow hard as you take him in: long and thick, flushed dark. Big, and fuck, you want all of him; you can feel how drenched you already are between your legs at the thought of all that cock filling you up.

When you tear your gaze away to meet his, Namjoon is staring at you just as hungrily, and he brings a hand to pump himself a few times, to coat his shaft in the wetness that’s started to drool from the head of his dick.

“Come here,” he grunts, his voice rough-edged, and you waste no time straddling yourself over his hips.

Given his considerable size, you figured it might take you a second to adjust, but you want him so bad, the feeling of his cock stretching you open is all white-hot pleasure. Your fingertips dig into his shoulders as you slowly lower yourself down on him, inch by overwhelming inch, until your ass is flush with thighs.

Namjoon’s head drops back against the couch as you slowly grind your hips into him, his hands gripping at your waist to guide the movement. You can’t help the soft sound that flutters out of you: he just looks so good like this, white-blonde hair swept off his forehead, beads of sweat trailing down his temples and glistening at his collarbones, his parted lips full and kiss-bitten.

“Baby,” he groans as you start to move a little more intentionally. “Fuck, I’m not gonna last long. Tell me what to do.”

“Touch me,” you breathe, and you close a hand over one of his, guiding him down to your clit. 

Just like the night before in his car, his touch is so gentle when he begins to trace circles into the sensitive nub with his thumb. You can feel the slow-hum build of an orgasm in your core, drawn up by the steady rub of his hand, and you lean back to allow him better access, bracing yourself on his thighs as you rock along his length.

A moan rips through you as the new angle drags the head of his dick just right against your front wall, and it’s good enough to make your eyes roll back. Chasing the feeling, you shove your hips down harder, driving his cock into that spot over and over until your thighs have started to tremble.

“That’s it,” Namjoon grunts encouragingly, his voice husky. “Use me, baby. Look so good when you bounce on my cock like that.”

The words set every last one of your nerve endings alight, and you dig your nails into his skin as your spine arches from the pleasure. His thumb is still working steadily at your clit, and the heavy stretch of his cock has you so wet, you can feel arousal starting to leak down your thighs. Your pussy clings to him like a vice, a throbbing-tight heat, taking him to the hilt every time.

“Oh my god, Joon,” you groan, “I’m gonna come.”

His touch doesn’t let up, and you can feel yourself teetering right on the precipice of it, only able to manage little gasps as you drop yourself down onto his cock again and again and again, with enough force that there’s an audible sound of your skin slapping against his.

Your legs are outright shaking from the effort now, from how close you are, and then Namjoon ducks his head, using his free hand to guide your tit into his mouth. The swirl of his tongue laved across the tight bud of your nipple is just what you need to push you over the edge.

With a moan that’s more like a sob, you drop forward against Namjoon’s chest, sinking all the way down to bury him in your pulsing cunt as you come. He continues to rub you through the waves of your orgasm, breathing ragged in your ear while your pussy gushes around him, until you grab his wrist with a soft whimper of overstimulation, and he relents.

Too gone to get any words out, all you can do is take his face in your hands and kiss him. He rolls his tongue over yours, decadent, as his palms slip down to cup your ass. You groan a little into his mouth when he begins to shift you, your cunt still fluttering-sensitive at every little motion, but he manages to maneuver you onto your back while still keeping himself sheathed in you.

His hands move to your thighs, encouraging your legs to hook over his hips, and his mouth trails kisses down the valley between your breasts before he breathes against your skin, “Can I keep going?”

“Please,” you murmur, and it’s chased with a moan when he starts to rock his hips into you. You feel so full, so swollen from your climax that it’s like your walls were molded to take him, the crown of his cock stroking deep-deep over the place that lights you up inside, shooting sparks of pleasure all the way down to your toes.

Namjoon’s breath stutters on a laugh. “Shit, I’m already close.”

You tilt up to brush your lips against his, humming encouragingly into his mouth, and then he pulls back again, one dimple teasing at the corner of his smile. “God, I— wanna hear you say it.”

Somehow, you know exactly what he means. “Come in me, Joon,” you beg, fucked so good that you’re shameless for it, and you gasp when he bottoms out in you with his next thrust. “Fill me up. Fuck me full of your cum, baby, please.”

It’s like the words send him into overdrive, and he practically growls as he starts to fuck his cock into you forcefully, hard enough to make your tits bounce. Each snap of his hips punches a heady groan from your lungs, and you reach up to drag your nails across the skin of his back as he chases his own end.

“Gonna fucking— give it to you,” he hisses, rolling his hips one, two, three more times, and then you feel his cock twitching, shoved in as deep as you can take him. He heaves a final strangled groan as he comes, rope after rope of his release pumping into you to paint your walls, until you can feel it beginning to spill back down your thighs.

You kiss through the comedown, inhaling shaky breaths into each other’s mouths, your bodies still fitted together like puzzle pieces, sweat starting to cool in the places where skin is pressed to skin. Namjoon finally moves first, giving a grunt of effort as he rolls off the couch, and you throw an arm over your face while the world slowly settles into focus around you.

When he returns, it’s with a towel in hand, and you can’t help smiling as he cleans you up, trailing soft kisses along your collarbone in tandem.

His voice is soft, too, when he finally speaks. “Will you stay here tonight?”

You prop yourself up on your forearms to look at him, and a little glimmer of something lights up in your chest that you can’t ignore. The first spark of an ember, just enough to reignite a flame you’d long since believed to be entirely extinguished. But now he’s shown you: it doesn’t have to be. You don’t have to be alone.

“Of course. We still have presents to wrap,” you say simply, and he huffs a laugh as he leans in to press a kiss to your forehead.

“Joon?” you murmur into the crook of his neck, unable to keep your voice entirely steady.

“Yeah?”

“Thank you,” you breathe. “For the magic.”

[borathae]

Sibiii, Jk in that black, croppes jacket will be the death of me😩😩😭😭 Like he is so fucking gorgeous I have never felt so in awe of a man, and soo attracted at that. The slim waist, the abs, the wide shoulders🥴🥴 I've never been as obssesed with a guy's tummy like I have an incredible urge to litter kisses from under his belly...down👀👀He is driving me insanee!! Just like your writing🥵, I adore the OGC stories, hands down the hottest drabbles out there for me. I literally get soaking wet from reading them, there I said it😈💀

Anonie. I feel so seen. So understood. omfg I thought I was being weird for having those deep craving for licking his tummy OMFG ANONIE I FEEL YOU SO FUCKING MUCH OMFG HIS TUMMY MAKES ME SO FCKING WEAK LIKE I AM LEGITEMATELY ATTRACTED TO HIS TUMMY like I am obviously attracted to the whole freaking man BUT I MERELY SEE HIS TUMMY AND I'M LOSING IT

IT'S SO DAINTY AND SMALL I JUST WANNA HOLD IT WITH BOTH HANDS STRONGLY AND THEN FEEL IT MOVE AND SHIFT UNDERNEATH ME LIKE HOLY FIKFKVANDF I HAVE PAIN INSIDE OF ME

OH MY GOD JUST LOOK AT ITITITIITITI I WANNA SCREAM GNGNF

Also omfmgmf I feel so proud right now, honestly I want my stories to be nothing but pussy wetters let's get it besties ayee 🤪🤪💜

[zukkaoru]

002 with outlaw queen and / or your favorite librarians ship and / or steli and / or whatever you want to talk about <3

hiii corey💞 i ended up just doing all three bc Bored and i want to write but the words aren't coming :/

outlaw queen

When I started shipping them: march 30, 2014 between 8pm and 9pm est. aka when regina and robin were in zelena's cabin and regina saw the lion tattoo on his arm, i was like OH????👀 and my life has been downhill ever since

My thoughts: JSGFKJDFBVSDBFGVYIERWUONJCBNY457FREUVIBAWE7TB8WQYOIRPUVAO8Q7V3RP034BT87P9AQRYTWEYAIOFHS🍎🏹💘🍎🏹💘🍎🏹💘🍎🏹💘🍎🏹💘 they deserved so much better they were soulmates this was supposed to be a show about happy endings why didn't they get a happily ever after why did a&e screw us over so badly why couldn't they be happy why did they have to kill robin i just want them to be happy they deserved to be happy no i will never be over them they're are my number one ship forever and always stunning in every way i'm just trying to memorize you like this you can't steal something that's been given to you regina you are my future-- um yeah. anyway. moving on

What makes me happy about them: all of the little casual touches omg they're so 🥺🥺🥺 and regina is so HAPPY when she's with him and they're so in love and the good old days of the hood-mills family,,,,,, y eah

What makes me sad about them: WHY DIDN'T THEY GET HAPPILY EVER AFTER😭

Things done in fanfic that annoys me: it has been so long since i've read any oq fics so honestly i'm not really sure. i didn't have very high standards for fics back when i was into 0uat nor did i really read all that many?

Things I look for in fanfic: fluff. happiness. canon divergence au where robin does not die for no reason.

My wishlist: HAPPY ENDING. ROBIN ALIVE. HOOD-MILLS FAMILY. BABY HOPE LOCKSLEY (yeah i'm pretty sure the c$ kid was named hope but oq nation claimed that name first tyvm)

Who I’d be comfortable them ending up with, if not each other: swanqueen endgame would have also been a serve i can't lie. i don't ship robin with anyone else tho

My happily ever after for them: just. robin being alive ;-;

okay i'm sticking the others under the cut <3

evlynn (favorite librarians ship)

When I started shipping them: pretty early on in the show i think; don't remember the exact moment but like definitely by the end of episode 5

My thoughts: i love them so much. the blueprint for a modern fairytale-esque happily ever after. all the other main couples on live action tv shows want what they have

What makes me happy about them: they are literally canonically in love and basically married and no one can take that away from me!! they're happy!! they made it to happily ever after!!!!!

What makes me sad about them: when they parted ways / semi-broke up? in season three i literally started crying. ngl i don't remember exactly what happened but i remember i was devastated. also ofc the fact that we're not ever gonna see them again bc tnt cancelled the show bc they didn't like it :/

Things done in fanfic that annoys me: it's been so long since i've read librarians fic so i honestly don't know

Things I look for in fanfic: there's not really enough fics in this fandom to be picky skdgfjdk

My wishlist: what if,,,,,,, we got another season😳 haha jk🤪 .......................unless--

Who I’d be comfortable them ending up with, if not each other: no one <3

My happily ever after for them: honestly i think they already got happily ever after. but eventually, they'll retire from being librarian & guardian and pass the torch over to the lits and find a new guardian (or more than one) and they'll take over a jenkins-esque role in aiding the new librarians when necessary but mostly just watching over and taking care of the library and all the artifacts

steli

When I started shipping them: shortly after watching creepslayerz for the first time i believe (january 2018ish)

My thoughts: i miss the golden days of steli nation. before they shoved steve and aja into a relationship. back when we all agreed steve was gay and eli had two moms. also literally they dID THE BABY ASSIGNMENT TOGETHER!!!! that's such a romance cliche and both of the other main pairs (jim/claire and toby/darcy) who did the assignment together went canon!! also also can we just talk about the fact that steve was sleeping and woke up just to catch a wad of paper before it hit eli? yeah. i won't forget

What makes me happy about them: the way they started working together, especially in season 3 when they brought all the umbrellas for the trolls ;-; also i am morally obligated to give a shout out to my ultimate comfort fic bc it makes me very very happy

What makes me sad about them: okay i say this with absolute no hate towards aja bc i absolutely adore her but. the fact that the writers shoved steve into a relationship with her. like it just seemed entirely unnecessary and then half the steli shippers jumped ship to st.aja :( like there is absolutely nothing wrong with that ship i just,, am partial to steli and also i hc both steve and aja as gay so

Things done in fanfic that annoys me: i can't really think of anything?? when i was reading steli fics, there weren't a whole lot out there (and i'm sure there still aren't a ton) so i was just taking what i could get skdhfgdkj

Things I look for in fanfic: once again. when i was actively reading steli fanfics, i couldn't afford to be too picky. mostly i just looked to see if it was finished or not skjdgfd

My wishlist: tbh i haven't watched anything since the first half of 3below s2 so idk,, steve and aja breaking up bc they both realized they're gay (but they're still besties) and then aja helping steve ask eli out

Who I’d be comfortable them ending up with, if not each other: eli x krel is kinda cute but also i feel like they wouldn't last

My happily ever after for them: they travel around space together for a while but eventually they settle down and adopt a dog (sorry)

[baekhvuns]

Shinestars are so crazy, man sent selfies and everyone's like HWATITIES, MOMMY MOMMY! Even though we can barely see the tits, I mean I did stare... can't say I didn't 🤪

Reminds me of this https://twitter.com/DiaryAtiny/status/1436321792788811787?t=e0pACqciRxHAyPLerw-SDQ&s=19 photo where I immediately knew it was Seonghwa (because of the trousers) and some people were like NOOO CAN'T BE HWA

Then he had the audacity to be soft and recommend Lover... now I don't like TS tbh, but she has some catchy songs and I actually tolerate Lover, very predictable of Hwa to like it, such a lover boy.

I know I should've slapped the neck 😭 I considered poking him a few times, because he was lowkey obstructing my view but then... he was the view, lololol

Seonghwa's name is much prettier than mine though, everything about him it's pretty so unfair. Oh is Hongjoong your twin then?

Yes, I'm glad when the show aired more people gravitated towards Seojun, I was like I TOLD YOU ALL FROM THE START WTFFF. Webtoon girlies are so boring, they only talked about Suho, but drama girlies knew what's up! I think Suho and Jugyeong are too similar and that's their problem, the webtoon is still on-going so idk if they're together or not. I only hope Seojun is having and doing well.

Tomorrow is intense as hell, man is hot but miserable too, a perfect combo <3

Miss Baek I can't write anything 😭 at least not properly, I wish I could

Tbh I dropped the case at this point, cause I'm a bit tired of it and mostly of people talking shit but I wonder when and how it's gonna end...

Ususuhdhdgahsgsgysa never read a JK fic, well never read for anyone other than Ateez and sometimes Stray Kids, but that sounds about right. Noona rights ❤

I'm sorry but Hwa admitted to being a cry baby ok, it's not always my fault 😭😭😭😭

Chogiwa Hwa was 🥰🥰🥰🥰 I'm a Wolf enthusiast and defender also my Mayfly slaying together, yeah good times. Seonghwa's PAINTED NAILS PEAK ADDICTING KITTEN

Omg what if he saw that tulip personality tweet and decided to pose as a tulip... 😩 my friend met Ateez today at Amsterdam's fansign and she was so shaky and emo, bless her hahaha. - DV 💖

hi!

Shinestars are so crazy, man sent selfies and everyone's like HWATITIES, MOMMY MOMMY! Even though we can barely see the tits, I mean I did stare... can't say I didn't 🤪

BFAMDBAKDHWK HIDDIES FTW,,, MILF HWA FEEDING US AND HE KNOWS IT TOO GOD DAMNIT

Reminds me of this https://twitter.com/DiaryAtiny/status/1436321792788811787?t=e0pACqciRxHAyPLerw-SDQ&s=19 photo where I immediately knew it was Seonghwa (because of the trousers) and some people were like NOOO CAN'T BE HWA

FBWK FROM HIS ARMS TOO U CAN TELL,,,, DHWJ PLS THEY WERE LIKE ITS SAN BC THEY COULDN’T SEE HWA AS MESSY 😭🔫

Then he had the audacity to be soft and recommend Lover... now I don't like TS tbh, but she has some catchy songs and I actually tolerate Lover, very predictable of Hwa to like it, such a lover boy.

and when i do a ts songs with hwa au’s tHEN WHAT,,, okay but exile is so good >>> BUT END GAME IS SO GOOD anon whats ur thoughts on a race track racer au 🔫 AND I DONT WANNA LIVE FOREVER FT ZAYN WAS 😮‍💨😮‍💨😮‍💨 zayn’s so hot, he’s the only hot one in 1D i said what i said 🔫

I know I should've slapped the neck 😭 I considered poking him a few times, because he was lowkey obstructing my view but then... he was the view, lololol

FBWMFBWK PLS U COULDVE 😭😭 THE SATISFYING AOUND IT WOULD MADE,,, im convinced if u poked it, it would be so soft and jiggly

Seonghwa's name is much prettier than mine though, everything about him it's pretty so unfair. Oh is Hongjoong your twin then?

u know god said im gonna have favourites and put them all in sk 😭😭 iTS UNFAIR AT HOW GORGEOUS HE IS 😭😭😭 i think NOT IN A DELULU WAY theres similarities!

Yes, I'm glad when the show aired more people gravitated towards Seojun, I was like I TOLD YOU ALL FROM THE START WTFFF. Webtoon girlies are so boring, they only talked about Suho, but drama girlies knew what's up! I think Suho and Jugyeong are too similar and that's their problem, the webtoon is still on-going so idk if they're together or not. I only hope Seojun is having and doing well.

YEAH THE WEBTOON GIRLIES WERE ALL OVER SUHO BUT THE KDRAMA ONES KNEW THE REAL DEAL,,, i watch some edit videos of seojun and jug and 😭😭😭😭 tHEYRE SO FUNNG PLS oh the webtoon’s still ongoing i gave up so long ago the author fr stretching it atp

Tomorrow is intense as hell, man is hot but miserable too, a perfect combo <3 Miss Baek I can't write anything 😭 at least not properly, I wish I could

MISS DEJA VU ANON I KNOW U CAN !!! THAT DELULU HWA DREAM FBMWHDSK PLS WRITE A FIC ONE DAY ABT IT FHWKFH 😭😭 I WILL GIVE U MY ONE KIDNEY FOR IT

Tbh I dropped the case at this point, cause I'm a bit tired of it and mostly of people talking shit but I wonder when and how it's gonna end...

HMMM MAKES SENSE,, yeah the ending makes me a little weary but i just hope justice is served fr he deserves it after all this 😭😭

Ususuhdhdgahsgsgysa never read a JK fic, well never read for anyone other than Ateez and sometimes Stray Kids, but that sounds about right. Noona rights ❤

YOUVE NEVER??? okay but like most jk fics r like bad hoys or oVERLY DOM characters,, i find myself reading taehyung fics more fbfb OH do u also have certain members u literally CANNOT read for??? NOONA RIGHTS FHWK I WILL GIVE THAT IN A SAN FIC TOO

I'm sorry but Hwa admitted to being a cry baby ok, it's not always my fault 😭😭😭😭

LMFAOOOO 😭😭😭😭 HES THE WHINY CRY BABY DBWN his mom was right with that nickname she gave him,,, I MEAN OPPOSITES ATTRACT BESTIE THE MEAN AND THE NICE 🤌🏼

Chogiwa Hwa was 🥰🥰🥰🥰 I'm a Wolf enthusiast and defender also my Mayfly slaying together, yeah good times. Seonghwa's PAINTED NAILS PEAK ADDICTING KITTEN

CHOGIWA HWA GDQKJDKQHDKQ tbh wolf wasnt bad if u dont pay attention to the lyrics or the awoo’s, the vocals 🤌🏼😮‍💨 YES FBWMFH MAYFLY SO CUTE 😭😭 EVERYTIME I SEE RED HAIR HWA MY MIND IMMEDIATELY GOES TO ADDICTING KITTEN

Omg what if he saw that tulip personality tweet and decided to pose as a tulip... 😩 my friend met Ateez today at Amsterdam's fansign and she was so shaky and emo, bless her hahaha. - DV 💖

😭😭😭😭 HE’S FR A TULIP PLS SHE DID??? SHE DID??? PLS FBKWHDKWBDKW TAKE HER RIGHTS AWAY IF SHE WAS THAT DREAM ONE 😭😭 omg that’s so coolio tho id be shaking too trying to find which page needs to be signed 😭😭

[apricotpicotty]

You're now chatting with a random stranger. Say STAND WITH HONG KONG AGAINST THE CCP!

You both like mbti.

You: lol

Stranger: What's funny

You: my meaningless life

Stranger: I was going to say you're the worst joke ur parents made

Stranger: Then i remembered jokes have meaning

You: yea it's the same thing

Stranger: What's your type

You: idk u guess

Stranger: Infp

You: no we don't do feelings in this house

Stranger: Intj

Stranger: We do ur mom.

You: omfg yeaaa T.T

You: exactly ;)

Stranger: Omfg sorry for yaaaa

You: wht's ur type?

Stranger: I'm the hot esfp in ur area

You: omg blink?

Stranger: Imagine not being esfp 🤮👎🤢

Stranger: What's your enneagram

You: 3w2

You: wht's urs?

Stranger: 3w4

Stranger: You but unstable

You: yea very

You: mentally ill as well

You: lmao

You: to many issues in this house

Stranger: Yeah I write real bad poetry

Stranger: U're the biggest one <3

You: omg thnxx <333

Stranger: Well I've got an issue

Stranger: Because i missue 😩

You: eww lmaooo

Stranger: Saying ew to people flirting with u, so intj omg

You: i've never dated so don't expect anything from me ssry

Stranger: Lmao it's ok

Stranger: Actually i'm enfp

Stranger: I just would like to be esfp

Stranger: Bsjdhsvxvwv

You: wait is ur mom an esfp?

Stranger: What that's so random haha

You: no i talked to an enfp who's mom was esfp acc to her

You: idk thought it was u

Stranger: Jk that's me lol

You: red girl?

Stranger: And she told me to check the body in the black bag

Stranger: Ye

You: oh god

You: not again

Stranger: I don't remember u

You: good thing u don't

Stranger: Well u're forgettable in the life of a girlboss 💅😩

You: why do u hv to be so cringe ?

Stranger: As a type 3 i ✨ adapt ✨ to the people i talk to

Stranger: No but srsly tell me smth about u

Stranger: Just so I can remember u

Stranger: What did we talk about

You: i can't adopt to the girl who uses kik to flash my dead mom

You: lmao

You: adopt fucking hell adapt*

Stranger: Adopt me

Stranger: Oh wait I think i remember

Stranger: OH YOU

You: no i already hv enough of issues to deal with

Stranger: HIIIII GURLL I MISSED U BESTIE

You: i did not. fr i was vibing with an entp on discord

You: why did i come here again gawd

You: anyways wassup

Stranger: You're the kind of people to roleplay as a fox on discord aren't u ?

Stranger: With neck beard discord mods

You: fox eww cat roleplay is cute

Stranger: U said u were 5w4 tho

Stranger: Excuse. Me.

Stranger: So you roleplay as a fucking pet

You: i took and enneagram test again ma'am

You: i never said i roleplay wtf

Stranger: Honestly it's better to type ursled

Stranger: Urself

You: oh ok aight thnx

Stranger: Especially because enneagram is very specific

Stranger: It's about your core motive

Stranger: Your core fear and desire

Stranger: It's not about how you act but about why you act/think the way u do

You: aight aight, lemme tell u, my frnds forced me into this so idk shit about mbti and enneagram

Stranger: Oh that's

Stranger: Sad

You: it's not. it's hectic when all ur frnds are extrovert feelers

Stranger: Yeah no because that's not how mbti works

Stranger: We're all "feelers" AND "thinkers" haha jdjsjdj that's why it can be confusing for newbies to type themselves

Stranger: Like u have Te (extroverted thinking) AND Fi (introverted feeling)

You: no, it's just hormones

Stranger: They complete each other

Stranger: Uh

You: ...mbti doesnt make sense..

Stranger: Me neither

Stranger: That's why I like it

You: oh god, get urself a life kid

Stranger: I'm literally older than u

You: doesn't matter u act like 14yr old tbh

You: wait how old r u again?

Stranger: Mentally I'm 4 so maybe

Stranger: Bc 19-4=14 so yeah

Stranger: Anyway dw, life gets worst at 19 🤪🤪🤪🤪

You: ahh 19...wht r u studying ?

You: u must be in college no?

Stranger: Ye

Stranger: Law because I'm boring as hell

You: LMAOOOOOOOOOOO

You: LAWW

You: AGAHAGGHAGHA

Stranger: I LiKe jUsTiCe

You: YEA YEA SURE

You: I'M NOT LAUGHING AT U

You: DW DW

Stranger: You're laughing with me 🥰

You: ah my life will be worse then urs prolly after getting into a med school

Stranger: But it's ok I can't see the haters through my tears 😎😎

You: thts a lot of optimism

Stranger: Everyone says that the hardest part is to get in haha

You: the struggle is after u get in

You: but yeea before tht is also a struggle

You: idk life's hell now

You: can't wait to die in my sleep

You: this simulation must end soon

Stranger: Simulation is worst was usual this week idk why

You: tht's acc to theoretical physics...

Stranger: Was worst than usual*

Stranger: It's ok

Stranger: Life is beautiful

Stranger: As long as you don't think

You: i literally have te or ti idk tf but our brain does the work

You: u can't help it maam

Stranger: I have fi

Stranger: Aka sadness

Stranger: Weeee

You: T.T

Stranger: Do you want to cry with me?

You: i don't cry in public, so u can join me in my bathroom

Stranger: Oh 😳

You: no don't even think about anyhting

Stranger: It's ok everyone is into me

Stranger: Anyway omg i love to cry in the bathroom with people

Stranger: Like fr

Stranger: It's free therapy

You: now u're staying out i'm locking the bathroom from inside

You: free therapy?? how tf??

Stranger: NO

You: i come out with puffy lips and eyes and red nose

Stranger: Yeah

Stranger: But

You: tht doesn't feel great

You: but ngl post crying sesh glow up is real

Stranger: When you're with a bunch of girls in the bathroom and you're giving advice to each other it's literally free therapy

Stranger: Agreed

You: i've never experienced tht so no comments

Stranger: What doesn't kill you makes you hotter

Stranger: Haha you're the kind of girls that wouldn't join me if i say "i'm going to the bathroom"

You: yea ofc wtf

You: i don't want to see u pee or shit

Stranger: This goes against the girls code :/

You: idk consider me as a man with no dick but vag and boobies but i'm not going to the bathroom with ya

Stranger: BUT WHAT IF I NEED HELP

Stranger: YOU NEVER LET A GIRL GO ALONE TO THE BATHROOM

You: HOW CAN I HELP U PEE?? U DO THT ON UR OWN

Stranger: IDC WHAT IF I NEED SMTH

You: NEED WHAT??

Stranger: DEPENDS

You: PADS? TAMPONS ? TAKE IT BEFORE GOING TO THE BATHROOM

You: I'LL GIVE IT FOR FREE BUT NO NO NO NOT GOING TO THE BATHROOM WITH YA

Stranger: A TAMPON. OR MAKEUP. OR IF I WANT TO TELL YOU THAT I WANT TO LEAVE. OR IF I HAVE NOTICED RED FLAGS WITH THE PEOPLE WE'RE WITH. OR IF I GET HARASSED LIKE 40% OF AGGRESSIONS HAPPEN IN PUBLIC BATHROOMS AND AHHHH WHAT IF I NEED TO CRY OR TO TALK YOU JUST CAN'T LET ME GO ALONE

Stranger: YOU NEED TO

Stranger: IT'S NOT A CHOICE

Stranger: EVEN IF U DON'T LIKE THE PERSON

Stranger: U GO WITH HER TO THE BATHROOM

You: oh, this happens in a bathroom ?

You: i just pee and come out lol

You: aight i'll go with ya or my frnds from now

You: lmao

Stranger: What

Stranger: What kind of bathroom do you go to

Stranger: You don't know all the shit that happens??

You: no...it's usually empty when i go

Stranger: Idk Everytime I go a lot of shit happens then we just walk out like 'othing happened

Stranger: Hmm i see

Stranger: Maybe it's because dramatic people attract drama

You: and tht's u

Stranger: Yass

Stranger: You need to be yassificated

You: if u get harassed, do u not harass them back?

Stranger: I just give mean looks

You: tht doesn't do shit

You: u gotta fight back lady wtf

Stranger: Meh

You: duh

Stranger: I don't give importance to that

Stranger: But you're right ig

You: but then u get ur frnd in the bathroom and cry to her?

You: not a great way to cope

Stranger: Nah

Stranger: They don't harass you with you're with a friend

You: oooooo, can't relate, it's mostly empty like i told ya

You: awh shit we ended up talking a lot again

Stranger: Hmm

Stranger: Yeah we're best friends now

You: no. ma'am

Stranger: But we had a bathroom date.

You: i'd help u even if i wasn't ur frnd

You: so don't tht close/

Stranger: Aw yeah same

You: i won't need ur help

Stranger: U'll receive it anyway

Stranger: Bc I'm a girlboss

You: u r one clingy piece of gum

You: aight gtg, i need to take a nap now

Stranger: Good nap

Stranger: Oh listen

Stranger: Wait

You: yo wht?

You: lady's writing an essay?

You: btw btw red and blue can make spiderman

You: idk tht was just a thought

Stranger: There's that app called nap roulette where you just click a button and they set a random alarm for u just to fuck ur sleep schedule and my friend is the developer so yeah I'm doing some pub but yeah SUPPORT HIM

Stranger: Oh wow that means together we're unbeatable

You: aight will check it out

You: yea whtever

Stranger: Thank youuuuuuuuuuuuuu

Stranger: You're nice

Stranger: Have a cookie 🍪

You: till the next time we meet bye

You have disconnected.