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kingofbodyrolls · 4 months

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Stuck in a Snowstorm (m) | pjm

*Part of 'the winter collection'. Read part two. Part three coming soon!

Summary: You don’t know how you ended up here. Stuck with your mortal enemy, Park Jimin, in you car – in a fucking snowstorm.

Pairing: Jimin x female reader

AU + genres: enemies to lovers, pwp (very little plot – let me be honest, it’s just pure smut). Humor/crack, smut.

Rating: Mature/explicit/R18 - this is mature/explicit content, so minors, please do not interact.

Word count: 6,1K

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 (general) + triggers: Jimin is just a mean jerk and reader is a brat 😂 Lots of banter, crack and anger towards each other.

Warnings (explicit): unprotected sex, dirty talk, orgasm denial/delay, hair pulling, oral (female and male receiving), breasts and nipple play. Also, use of a tie 👀

Author’s note: This is actually a story that I planned to write all the way back in 2017 – better late than never, right? 😂 I had only made the plot with some outline, so I basically started from scrap. But it had been stuck in my mind since FOREVER and now I just miss Jimin a shit ton, so I made this. I hope you enjoy it! Also, it shouldn’t be taken too seriously, it’s just smut with minimal plot and don’t question the characters bad actions or some minor plot holes 😂 (Also, I did not proofread this, just because).

Also, merry Christmas / happy holidays – this is my gift to you wonderful people out there 💜

AND are you guys looking forward to Jimin’s ‘Closer than This’ tomorrow???? 💜

If you prefer to read on AO3 you can read it here 😀

“I can’t believe this…” in disbelief, you mutter, your voice tinged with uncertainty, while you desperately activate the windshield wiper, yearning for even a fleeting glimpse through the thick curtain of falling snow.

“I can,” Jimin declares from his spot beside you in the passenger seat. His playful critique follows swiftly, delivered with a pout and a firm voice, as he shakes his head in mock disbelief, “You're a terrible driver.”

“Am not!” you retort defiantly, your voice cutting through the air, even as your unwavering gaze remains fixed on the snowy expanse ahead.

A curtain of thick snow descends, veiling everything in an opaque white shroud. The road ahead is swallowed by the relentless onslaught, turning visibility into an elusive challenge.

Your hands clench the wheel with a vice-like grip, the strain evident as your knuckles whiten under the pressure. The tension in your entire body is so palpable that it hurts to fucking drive.

Exhaustion weighs on you heavily, a relentless burden, yet the realization hits that you're only halfway to your friends' Christmas party. Two more hours loom ahead, a daunting stretch of time spent in the company of Park Jimin, your sworn enemy.

The decision to share a car ride is a mystery even to yourself; perhaps it was a fleeting concern for the planet, a noble intention to save fuel by consolidating into one vehicle. Yet, as the journey unfolds, the real reasons behind your choice become an enigma.

Regret courses through you like a bitter undercurrent as you ponder the altruistic intentions behind considering the planet and the environment. The thought of advising Jimin to take his own car nags at you, a missed opportunity for a peaceful solo drive. In a self-cursing moment, you rue your own kindness.

“Let me drive; I’m a better driver than you anyway.” Jimin declares with casual confidence, his tone carrying an air of nonchalance.

“Fuck off, Jimin!” you hiss, frustration dripping from your words like venom.

You squint against the relentless assault of heavy snow, the world outside morphing into an indistinct blur as visibility dwindles.

Your pace is deliberate, a cautious dance with the road, but after several minutes, you relent, succumbing to the inevitable by slowing down even further.

“Fine!” you declare, seizing the steering wheel in a determined clench, bringing the car to an abrupt halt.

You pivot your gaze towards Jimin, the words cutting through the tension, “You fucking drive then.”

Shifting the car into park, you unclip your seatbelt with a determined click, swing the door open, and brave the biting embrace of the freezing snowstorm outside.

In synchronized movements, Jimin mirrors your actions, and together, you step out into the frigid air. The two of you converge outside, a silent agreement palpable in the crunch of snow beneath your feet, as you navigate around the car, preparing to swap seats.

“If you crash my car, I’ll kill you.” you menace, venom seeping through your words as you stride past him, positioning yourself in front of the vehicle.

He nonchalantly shrugs his shoulders, a smug satisfaction evident in his demeanor, relishing the fact that you've conceded to let him take the wheel.

Jimin confidently eases his plump figure into the driver's seat, and you avert your gaze (definitely not looking!). With a self-assured demeanor, he expertly adjusts the seat to accommodate his frame.

You attempt to thaw your chilled hands under the blast of hot air from the air conditioner, the sour mood hanging heavy around you as you settle into the passenger seat, donning a visible pout.

“Relax, I’m not gonna crash your precious car,” he teases, the playfulness evident in his voice, just before smoothly shifting the car into gear and forging ahead.

In response, a huff escapes your lips, arms instinctively crossing in a silent declaration of your lingering displeasure.

You surrender to a sense of ease as Jimin takes the wheel, his deliberate pace aligning with caution. It's a mutual understanding — in this snow-laden terrain, slow and steady becomes a shared creed for safety.

The once teasing atmosphere now gives way to palpable tension, the air thick with the weight of swirling snow that has intensified. Jimin, too, struggles visibly against the heavier onslaught, the challenge of navigating through the snow turning the car into a place of shared unease.

Your gaze fixates on Jimin, observing as his fingers clench the steering wheel with a tension mirroring your own, and his shoulders stiffen in sync. A chuckle escapes you, unexpectedly audible, as you notice the ironic similarity between his reaction and your earlier demeanor.

“What’s so funny?” Jimin spits, the tension reverberating unmistakably in his voice, each word a note in the symphony of strained emotions.

“Your driving,” you start to chuckle, the amusement laced with a hint of mischief.

“You're not exactly outclassing my skills,” you declare, sinking into the seat with a self-assured smirk, relishing the satisfaction of your own driving prowess.

“You’re a fucking brat, you know that?” he seethes, the words charged with anger, his gaze sharply turning towards you, locking onto your eyes.

Despite Jimin's cautious speed, the car subtly veers, casting doubt on whether you're still on the road or lost in the oblivion of the thick snow. The blinding white landscape offers no clarity, leaving you uncertain and immersed in a disorienting wintry haze.

“I can’t see fucking shit!” he exclaims, abruptly bringing the car to a halt and cutting the engine in an instant, plunging you both into an eerie silence amid the obscured surroundings.

Your gaze locks onto him, urgency etched across your face. “What are you doing? We've got Seokjin's Christmas party in less than an hour!” The frustration in your voice reverberates, a ticking clock amplifying the stakes of the impending deadline.

“It’s not safe to drive in this freaking snowstorm!” he bellows in response, frustration escalating in his voice, punctuated by the sharp flick of the hazard warning lights, signaling the urgency and danger of the situation.

“I just want to get there already. I'd rather not be stuck with you,” you seethe, teeth gritted, a visible huff escaping in a cloud of anger. The tension hangs heavy, fueled by the biting words that linger in the now frosty air.

“Like I'd willingly be stuck with your sour attitude,” he retorts, his gaze sweeping you from head to toe for some inscrutable reason. “I don't even like you,” he declares, the words loaded with an unspoken tension that hangs in the frosty air between you two.

You gape at him, the bitter truth resonating in the air—an unspoken agreement that neither of you harbors any liking for the other. The animosity between you has solidified into a hostile dynamic, despite the shared circle of friends that consistently throws you together, much to your enduring displeasure.

Jimin exudes an infuriating level of cockiness, ceaselessly pushing your buttons and expertly tapping into the art of annoyance until it feels like your nerves are unraveling at his mere presence.

You'd willingly brave the biting cold rather than endure the prospect of an unpredictable future confined with him inside the car. Fate seems to revel in mocking you, as the car rapidly succumbs to the encroaching chill, each passing minute intensifying the unwelcome cold that now permeates the confined space.

You clutch your arms tightly around your body, desperately running your hands up and down in a futile attempt to gather some warmth. A curse slips from your lips as you question your own sanity—why in the world did you take off your jacket for the drive? Now it's trapped in the damn trunk, and the thought of braving the freezing cold to retrieve it is utterly unappealing.

“Cold?” he chuckles, the sound carrying an edge of amusement that only amplifies the chill sinking into your bones.

You nod your head.

“Well, I’m not giving you my jacket,” he states matter-of-factly, cocooning himself in the evident warmth of his puffer jacket. Damn Park Jimin and his infuriating nonchalance, he's truly a master of being a jerk!

“Can't even manage a simple act of kindness,” you mutter with disdain, the words escaping in a sharp hiss, a low and almost grumbling tone, accompanied by a dismissive eye roll.

“What's that?” he asks, a smirk playing on his lips, relishing the snug warmth of his jacket while you shiver in the cold.

“Fuck you, Park!” you shout directly in his face, your words laced with frustration. Instead of a retort, he just chuckles, the sound taking on a manic edge that lingers in the frosty air, leaving an unsettling resonance to your heated exchange.

An indeterminate amount of time slips away, lost in the relentless snowfall that shows no sign of relenting. Frustration building, you reach for your phone and decide to text Seokjin, realizing that this damn snow isn't planning on letting up anytime soon.

You [15.42]: Stuck in a snowstorm with fucking Park Jimin. I don’t know when we’ll arrive 🙄

Jin [15.48]: Just stay safe 😂

Fuck Seokjin! You’re convinced that he’s somewhere enjoying a good laugh at your misfortune.

A surge of realization hits you like a bolt of inspiration—there's a blanket tucked away in the backseat. Swiftly moving up, you make your way to the center console.

“What’re you doing?” Jimin questions, his curiosity evident in the quirk of his eyebrow as you navigate over the center console, leaving him bewildered by your sudden, mysterious movements.

“There's a blanket back here,” you announce triumphantly, finally laying hands on the sought-after comfort. With a satisfying plop into the seat, you tug the blanket snugly over your cold body, a gesture that transforms the atmosphere within the car from chilly discomfort to a brief oasis of warmth.

After a few contemplative minutes, Jimin breaks the silence with a question that hangs in the air, “Mind if I join you?”

Your mouth falls agape, and your eyes widen in astonishment at his unexpected question. Collecting yourself, you respond with a hint of sarcasm, “You weren't keen on sharing your jacket with me. What makes you think I'd be willing to share my blanket with you?” The tension between you and Jimin escalates with each word, hanging palpably in the cold air.

Without a pause for your response, he defies the silence, navigating over the center console with the same determined crawl you had exhibited moments before. The unspoken tension between you both amplifies, turning the confined space into an arena of silent rivalry.

Seated beside you, he makes a grab for the blanket cocooning your shivering form. Resolute, you refuse to surrender it, your hands engaging in a tug of war with him.

“Share, you brat,” he hisses with a mix of irritation and amusement, his determination evident in the forceful tug at the blanket.

“No!” you hiss back defiantly, the word laced with a stubborn refusal as you hold your ground.

With a forceful yank, he wrenches the blanket from your grasp, and in the struggle, he ends up with it draped across his lap. The victorious outcome of the skirmish leaves a charged atmosphere between you and Jimin, the warmth of the blanket now a coveted prize in his possession.

A triumphant smirk plays on his lips as he envelops himself in the captured blanket. His eyes lock onto your moping expression before descending further, a mischievous gleam indicating that his victory goes beyond the simple conquest of the blanket.

“I can totally see your nipples,” he chuckles.

You glance down, and sure enough, your nipples stand out against the satin material of your dress. Swiftly, you react, pressing your hands over your breasts in a sudden move to conceal their visibility.

“Why the fuck are you look at my tits?” you yell at him, your frustration audible, but he merely chuckles in response.

“You must really be freezing, huh?” he observes, and you simply nod in agreement, a silent acknowledgment of the biting cold that permeates the confined space.

“I can warm you up,” he suggests with a playful wink, both eyes and eyebrows conspiring in unison. The underlying implication of his words hangs in the air, and you instantly grasp the nature of his playful proposition.

“I'm not that desperate, Park,” you scoff with a hint of disgust, the rejection laced with a prideful undertone. In response, he simply chuckles, finding amusement in your candid dismissal.

Following his suggestive remark, an electric charge seems to surge through the atmosphere in the car. Your mind involuntarily races, envisioning the prospect of warming up next to him, his hands tracing every contour of your body, his di—

Stop. You admonish yourself sternly, a mental command to cease the vivid thoughts involving him. He's your enemy, you remind yourself, emphasizing the intense dislike you harbor for Park Jimin. The internal conflict heightens, the struggle between attraction and animosity weaving a complex web within your mind.

His chuckle resonates beside you, a sound that grates on your nerves. Irritation mounts, and you sharply turn your head towards him, your annoyance evident in the flicker of your gaze.

“Need help?” he inquires, his gaze suddenly deepening, the darkness in his eyes unveiling a subtle intensity that lingers in the air.

“With what?” you spit back at him, the confusion evident in your tone.

“You're grinding against the seat,” he bluntly points out, his gaze fixed on your crotch. You glance down, discovering your unconscious movement against the fabric of the seat. A sudden realization dawns, and an expletive slips from your lips.

A wave of discomfort washes over you, an intense desire to squirm and disappear into the ground, engulfed by the embarrassment that now saturates the air. The profound sense of shame hangs heavy, making the moment so excruciatingly humiliating.

You inhale sharply, drawing in a breath that seems to shudder through you, and with a deliberate move, you roll your hips once more.

“No…” you murmur, the word escaping with a shaky uncertainty that even your own ears can detect.

Jimin scoots closer to you, the warmth radiating from his body sending sparks that seem to dance through yours.

He leans into you, his mouth dangerously close to your ear, and in a breathy whisper, he offers, “I can help you with that.”

His words alone send a jolt through your body, a sudden tightening that ignites a fiery sensation. Damn it. The internal conflict and desire entwine, creating a tumultuous storm within you in the presence of him. It's undeniable—your entire being yearns for the touch you never thought you'd crave.

His warm hand finds its way to your thigh, and a low moan escapes your lips at the contact. Fuck.

His hand ventures down to the hem of your dress, grabbing and pulling it back to expose more of your thighs. A shiver runs down your spine as the cold air embraces your newly exposed skin, and a hiss escapes your lips. However, the sensation is quickly replaced by a different kind of warmth as his hand cups your clothed core. A breathless expletive escapes your lips, leaving your mind in a blissful blank state.

Instantly, you feel the warmth of his hand intimately against you, and your head falls back against the seat involuntarily. A soft gasp escapes your lips as you respond to the touch, unable to resist rolling your hips into the sensation.

“You’re needy,” he breathes against your ear, the words carrying a provocative weight that reverberates through you.

His warm breath sends a cascade of shivers down your spine, clouding your thoughts in a haze of desire. The desire for release intensifies, eclipsing any reservations you may have about seeking it from your mortal enemy.

“Shut up and just touch me,” you utter in frustration, the words punctuated by the deliberate grind of your hips into his hand, a desperate quest for any kind of friction. You're acutely aware of the desperation seeping through your actions, but at this moment, you don’t give a fuck.

And touch you he does. His fingers begin to rub your clit over the fabric of your panties, and you don't hold back your moans.

Your hips gyrate, a rhythmic dance in pursuit of your impending orgasm. The sensation builds rapidly, a cascade of pleasure on the brink. The question lingers in your mind—why does your body respond so eagerly to his touch?

He tugs your panties to the side, his touch on your clit eliciting a gasp of pleasure from your lips. The warmth of his fingers against your skin amplifies the sensation, and you're already soaked.

“You're so wet already,” he chuckles against your ear, his lips teasingly grazing your skin. The desire to retaliate surges within you, but then, with a sudden and deliberate movement, one of his fingers enters your pussy, stealing your breath away.

He skillfully fingers you with one finger, the motion of his wrist simultaneously stroking against your clit, creating a sensation that's nothing short of delicious. The desire for more intensifies, an insatiable craving building within you.

“More,” you breathe, your voice escaping chapped and laden with a raw, lustful edge.

Jimin adds one more digit, and you relish in the precision with which he finds your soft spot, hitting it perfectly.

“Are you gonna come on my fingers?” he whispers in your ear, the suggestive question sending an instant jolt through your body, a yearning for more.

A throaty moan escapes your lips as you willingly spread your legs wider, granting him more space.

He deftly introduces a third finger into you, and you feel yourself losing control, swept away by the overwhelming pleasure. It's already so good—how is he so skilled with his fingers?

The way he skillfully uses his fingers inside you while simultaneously rubbing your clit with his wrist propels you relentlessly toward the precipice of climax. The knot in your stomach tightens, and you're on the verge of that intoxicating release.

“Jimin, fuck. I'm gonna come soon,” you pant, the urgency in your voice underscored by the rhythmic grind of your pussy against his hand.

He accelerates the pace of his fingers inside you, bringing you to the brink, but just as your body teeters on the edge of release, he abruptly withdraws his fingers and hand altogether.

His fingers and hand vanish, leaving you hanging on the precipice of your orgasm. The abrupt absence intensifies the frustration and desire you feel surge through your body. Fuck!

Your legs tremble beneath you, and a frustrated hiss escapes your lips as you pant for breath.

“You didn't want to share the blanket,” he spews, a self-satisfied smirk playing on his lips as he revels in your evident frustration.

You're on the verge of tears, overwhelmed with anger. The desperate desire for release compounds the emotional turmoil within you. The audacity of him! The frustration boils over, cementing Jimin as nothing short of a fucking jerk in your mind.

“I'm not letting you come unless you beg for it,” he adds in a smug voice, a smirk playing on his lips as he purposefully puts some distance between you.

You can't believe him. The brink of pleasure was within reach—just a few more rubs and you would have unraveled on his fingers. The yearning is palpable, a frustrating ache that intensifies with each passing moment.

You growl at him, caught in a heated internal debate about whether to plead with him or not.

Your pussy clenches around emptiness, a visceral reminder of your desperation.

“Please, Jimin. Please let me come,” you implore, locking eyes with him and turning your body toward him. The desperation in your gaze is palpable. Almost inadvertently, you press your chest closer, your stiff nipples drawing his gaze downward.

He licks his lips teasingly, a wicked glint in his eyes, before seizing your hips and drawing you irresistibly toward him. With a swift yet controlled motion, he manipulates your body, guiding you to lie on the seat. As you settle into the unexpected position, he chuckles at the genuine confusion etched across your face.

“Because you asked so nicely,” he murmurs, his voice dripping with sarcasm, and in a bold move, he shoves your dress up to your stomach. With swift precision, he snatches your panties, sliding them down your legs. “I'll give you what you want.”

He discards your panties with a deliberate flick, his focus unwavering as he plunges down to your throbbing pussy. There's no hesitation; he immediately delves into licking at your folds and clit with a hunger that matches your own.

Your body instinctively arches off the length of the seat, a wave of pleasure coursing through you. It feels unbelievably good. In the heat of the moment, your hands find his hair, fingers gripping and pulling at the strands, eliciting a guttural groan from him.

Your muscles tighten, and the echoes of the previous orgasm, forcefully ripped from you, return with an intensity that feels tenfold. Each breath is a furious pant as he continues to lap at your folds, the relentless pleasure building and intertwining with your gasps.

Then, with a skillful touch, he adds a finger to your clit, rubbing it in tantalizing circles. Your senses heighten, and just as you succumb to the pleasure, he skillfully continues to ravish your entrance with his tongue.

“Jimin!” you scream his name, a raw and unrestrained cry escaping your lips as you reach the peak of ecstasy on his tongue. Your body tightens, toes curling, and you involuntarily hitch your heels against his legs. In the throes of pleasure, your vision blurs, and you fight for air.

He chuckles, a throaty sound that reverberates in the aftermath of your high. Not giving you a moment to fully come down, he skillfully inserts two of his fingers inside you, drawing a hiss from your lips at the touch—your body rendered oversensitive.

He extends his fingers, proudly displaying them, glistening with your intimate juices. A wicked glint in his eyes, he issues a command, “Clean them.”

You meet his gaze defiantly, a spark of challenge in your eyes, before obediently rising to carry out his command. Taking hold of his hand, you sensually draw his slick digits into your mouth, swirling your tongue around them like a provocative dance. Your eyes lock onto his, witnessing the raw desire in his gaze as you release his fingers with an audible ‘pop’.

“I hate you,” you declare, breathless, the words carrying a mixture of frustration and desire. His response is a low chuckle, his perceptive gaze catching the teasing glint in your eyes.

He leans back, a provocative smirk playing on his lips, and starts palming himself through his dress pants. Your eyes involuntarily follow the movement of his hands, and a jolt of desire courses through you as you realize he's already rock hard. The unmistakable bulge strains against his pants, a visual testament to the arousal simmering between you two.

“I can help you with that,” you purr, a sultry promise lingering in your eyes, eager to reciprocate the pleasure.

He chuckles, a mischievous glint in his eyes, and smoothly turns his body to fully face you. With a teasing smirk, he unzips his pants, skillfully pulling down both his trousers and underwear enough to liberate his hardened dick.

His cock springs free, defiantly brushing against the bottom of his loosened tie, a sight that's undeniably tantalizing. Perfectly sculpted, it's veiny and slightly flushed at the tip, mirroring the allure of every inch of him. A surge of conflicting emotions overwhelms you – the hate, the desire, the acknowledgment of his undeniable appeal. You despise how effortlessly good-looking he is, from the tousled blonde locks to those lips you now crave to taste.

However, your gaze returns to his dick, noting its average size but with a satisfying girth that catches your attention. A subtle hint of anticipation flickers in your eyes, and your tongue instinctively darts out to moisten your lips.

“Then get to work,” he pants, a breathy command, as he sensually spreads his legs, creating an inviting space for you.

You descend eagerly, ensuring your mouth is generously coated with saliva before you engulf him, starting with just the tip.

He hisses the moment your lips meet his dick, his head instinctively colliding with the window behind him, an involuntary exclamation escaping, “Ah, fuck.”

You engulf more of him, your mouth descending entirely, and the sound of his primal moan reverberates in response. You add a sultry hum, a note of satisfaction coursing through you.

You initiate a slow, deliberate pace, skillfully sucking him off, and anything beyond your mouth's capacity, you sensually stroke with your hand.

His hands seek out your hair, effortlessly capturing the neatly arranged high ponytail that he grasps with a possessive confidence.

You revel in the subtle tension, accelerating your descent on him with a newfound urgency. Your tongue skillfully traces intricate patterns, dancing across his tip and the sensitive folds of his frenulum.

He moans in ecstasy as you withdraw with a satisfying ‘pop,’ only to treat the head of his throbbing dick like a tempting lollipop, your tongue swirling around it with deliberate sensuality.

As you glance up at him, he appears utterly lost in the moment. His eyes, once vibrant, are now dilated orbs of desire, his parted lips releasing audible breaths. The state of bliss enveloping him transforms his features into a breathtaking display of vulnerability and beauty.

You envelop him once more, relishing the subtle tremor that courses through him, a tangible response to the sensations you're skillfully orchestrating with your lips and tongue.

He yanks you away from him, his voice a raw whisper laden with desire, “I want to fuck you.”

You prop yourself up, captivated by the transformation before you. The usual arrogant Park Jimin is replaced by this vulnerable, needy version, and against your better judgment, a desperate craving for him builds inside you. You ache for him to consume you entirely.

A mischievous smirk plays on your lips as you echo his earlier taunts, “Beg for it,” you challenge, aware of the palpable tension between you, a shared desire pulsating in the charged air.

A low, throaty chuckle escapes him as his fingers glide through the tousled strands of his blonde hair, a mixture of frustration and amusement dancing in his eyes. “You’re really a fucking brat,” he hisses, a smirk playing on his lips.

He sits up, a subtle smirk playing on his lips as he sheds his open jacket, the confined warmth of the car now turning uncomfortably sweltering. You can't help but acknowledge the irony; at least you're not freezing anymore, which, after all, was the primary objective of this unexpected detour, wasn't it?

“Please let me fuck you,” his plea hangs in the air, a desperate echo of your own request, and you can't help but chuckle, slowly crawling closer to him.

“Turn around, let me straddle you. Leaning against the headrest will give us more space,” you suggest, and he shifts in an instant, his arousal evident in the casual sway of his dick with each movement.

Then you confidently straddle him, your hand instinctively reaching for his dick, guiding him to align perfectly with your eager entrance.

Before you lower yourself onto him, you sensually trail his dick through your wetness, relishing in the intimate friction. A moan escapes your lips as you then descend onto his lap in one smooth, sultry motion.

The exquisite stretch sends a shiver down your spine, and he effortlessly glides in, eliciting a breathless ‘Fuck!’ from your lips.

As your hands find their place on his shoulders for support, his eyes, now hooded, follow your every movement as you begin to ride him with a rhythm that echoes the passion pulsing between you.

You pant furiously, your breath hot against his face. The sensation of him inside you is nothing short of heavenly, an electrifying connection that feels as if every contour of him aligns perfectly with every curve of your pussy.

“Ah,” ecstasy courses through you with each fervent bounce on his throbbing length, a harmonious rhythm of pleasure escaping your lips in breathless gasps.

“You’re so tight,” his ragged breaths synchronize with the rhythmic clench of your walls, his hands anchoring to your hips, adding an electrifying intensity to each blissful plunge into your velvet warmth.

Between gasps, you manage to growl, “Fuck. I hate you,” only to be met with his deep, throaty chuckle as he continues the relentless rhythm of his thrusts, each one a tumultuous clash of conflicting desires.

Amidst heavy breaths, he accuses, “I know you're lying,” his words punctuated by the rhythmic tempo of his panting. Undeterred, he leans in for a searing kiss, his lips caressing yours with a softness akin to pillows. Your defenses crumble as you melt into his touch, tongues colliding in a fervent dance that defies the lingering tension.

“Why is it that you feel so damn good?” you gasp, interrupting the kiss only to plunge back into its intoxicating depths. Each moment spent in his embrace feels like a surrender to a passionate whirlwind. His every thrust reverberates through you, sending electrifying shivers down your spine, an exquisite dance of pleasure and desire that you find impossible to resist.

“Perhaps I should prolong your climax, just as you did to me?” you purr with a mischievous smirk playing on your lips, resurrecting the playful brat within you.

He chuckles, his hands leaving the curve of your hips to gracefully undo his tie at his neck. Your gaze fixates on him, observing each deliberate move as he frees himself from the constriction of the tie, all while you continue to ride him with an unabashed hunger.

“You really are a fucking brat,” he mutters, the corners of his lips quirking into a sly smile as he pulls off his tie. “Now, shut up,” he commands, silencing any potential retorts by expertly stuffing the tie into your open, protesting mouth.

You yield to the makeshift gag, sinking your teeth into the fabric, muffling the symphony of your own desperate moans.

A smirk plays on his lips as his hands reclaim your hips, commanding, “Now take it like the fucking brat that you are.”

His movements become a relentless rhythm, thrusting deep inside you. All you can do is cling to his shoulders, swept away by the force of his desire.

Ecstasy courses through you, and you can't help but moan into the fabric of his tie. It feels too damn good to contain.

His voice drips with satisfaction as he senses your walls tightening around him, and a smug grin plays on his lips. “You like that, huh?”

A guttural moan escapes your lips in response, the crescendo of pleasure building, and you sense the impending climax drawing near.

“Fuck yourself on my dick,” his command hangs in the air, thick with desire, as his hands abandon your hips, embarking on a journey down your back. With a swift motion, he unzips your dress, letting it cascade down your shoulders.

Your naked breasts dances to the rhythm of his powerful thrusts, an erotic ballet of passion and desire.

“Fuck. You’re not wearing a bra, just like I thought,” his eyes widen in delighted surprise, a devilish grin playing on his lips. His hands eagerly exploring the contours of your exposed tits.

His words hang in the air, sending a shiver down your spine. “Your tits are beautiful,” he murmurs, his fingers tracing delicate patterns around your stiffened nipples. Your body reacts instinctively, a primal moan escaping through the tie as desire courses through you.

Every grind and movement becomes a challenge as he expertly tweaks and pulls at your nipples, sending waves of pleasure and distraction through your body. You fight to maintain a rhythm, desperately trying to pleasure yourself on his dick amidst the electrifying sensations dancing across your chest.

As your walls clench around him, a whirlwind of sensations floods your body, signaling that the peak of pleasure is just a breath away. Every nerve is on edge, and the anticipation of an imminent climax tingles through you, a storm about to erupt.

As he skillfully massages your tits, he breathlessly teases, “You’re gonna come, aren’t you?” his words send shivers down your spine, intensifying the pleasure that's building within you.

With a fervent nod, you surrender to the sensations, your muffled moans echoing through the tie as pleasure courses through every inch of your being.

As he plunges into you, he urges you with a guttural command, “Cream my cock, brat.” The raw desire in his voice fuels the intensity of your connection, igniting a blaze of passion.

Overwhelmed by desire, his dick finding every exquisite spot within you, you unleash a guttural moan, your pleasure echoing into the fabric of the tie as you climax on his pulsating cock.

Jimin's fingers twist around your hardened nipples, sending electric shocks of ecstasy through your body. A guttural exclamation escapes your lips, muffled by the tie, as pleasure courses through every fiber of your being.

He pounds into you relentlessly, the rhythm building towards an intense climax. His hands firmly grip your hips, fingers digging into your flesh as he desperately seeks his own release.

He reaches the peak of ecstasy, his body shuddering with the force of his release as he spills into the warmth of your pussy.

Heaving for breath, the silence between you two speaks volumes, a shared understanding lingering in the air as you descend from the euphoric heights of your climaxes.

Collapsing onto his chest, you revel in the soothing aftermath, liberated from the restraint of his tie. As his body relaxes within you, the intimacy lingers, a tangible connection forged in the heat of passion.

His lips graze your neck with a gentle touch, igniting a cascade of thoughts about the significance behind this tender gesture.

As laughter fills the air, shattering the lingering tension, your attention shifts to the foggy windows and the oppressive heaviness in the car, making each breath a deliberate act.

As you hastily redress, Jimin slips into his jacket and steps out of the car, retrieving your coat from the trunk. With a gentle handoff, he passes it to you, and you quickly slip into its comforting warmth.

“Thank you,” your gratitude escapes in a hushed whisper, laden with a touch of bewilderment. The encounter, while undeniably electrifying, leaves you grappling with conflicting emotions. It's Park Jimin, your sworn adversary, and the intensity of the shared moment hangs between you, a paradox of pleasure and rivalry.

“You’re welcome,” his response carries a self-assured smirk, echoing the lingering traces of the shared intimacy. As he confidently returns to the driver's seat, you mirror his actions, settling into the passenger's seat, both enveloped in a charged silence that speaks volumes.

The snowfall has eased, no longer as relentless as before. A subtle nostalgia creeps in as you reflect on his desire to keep you warm. The gentle flakes now fall, leaving you yearning for the lingering warmth of his touch.

As he revs the engine to life, a gust of chilly air sweeps through the car, causing you to emit an involuntary grunt. His chuckle fills the cabin, accompanied by a smirk and a teasing wink. “I can warm you up anytime,”

You shoot him a moping gaze, wondering if he has a knack for deciphering your thoughts. Can he sense the magnetic pull, the unspoken attraction that mirrors your own inner turmoil?

You return his smile, a silent agreement resonating between you as he steers the car forward, setting the wheels and unspoken possibilities in motion.

Three hours fashionably late, you finally arrive at Seokjin's Christmas party. The distant hum of music greets you as you step out of the car, signaling that the celebration is already in full swing.

As you rap your knuckles against the door, you steal a glance at Jimin who's busy adjusting his attire. His fingers deftly tighten the knot of his tie, and his pants get a quick, inconspicuous tug into place.

As Seokjin swings the door open, a tantalizing waft of mouthwatering aromas envelops your senses, instantly sparking a smile on your face.

Seokjin's laughter echoes as he playfully accuses, “You fucked Jimin!” and your jaw drops in disbelief to the floor.