The Hooker (Vminkook)
devil's favorite bottom
The bar wasn’t just popular. It was worshiped.
Not for its champagne, not for its music, not even for its velvet-lined walls dripping in gold.
The crowd was already restless before the lights even dimmed. Men with whiskey glasses, women draped in diamonds, mafias in dark suits, college boys with hungry eyes all pressed closer to the stage as the bass began to crawl through the floor, heavy and sinful.
Silver chains dripped over his collarbones, clinking against skin like stolen treasure. Glitter shimmered across his eyelids, dangerous, dazzling, like temptation dressed as a man. His leather shorts clung in ways that left nothing to imagination, the hem riding so high it made even the mafia bosses sit forward in their chairs, lips parted, pupils blown wide.
𝐀 𝐛𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐨𝐨 𝐬𝐩𝐫𝐚𝐰𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐜𝐫𝐨𝐬𝐬 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞, 𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐧, 𝐡𝐢𝐝𝐝𝐞𝐧 𝐛𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐬 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐚 𝐝𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐲 𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐭. 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮’𝐝 𝐩𝐚𝐲 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐬𝐨𝐮𝐥 𝐭𝐨 𝐮𝐧𝐜𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫.
𝙋𝙖𝙞𝙣𝙩𝙚𝙙 𝙘𝙧𝙞𝙢𝙨𝙤𝙣, 𝙨𝙤𝙛𝙩 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙨𝙞𝙣𝙛𝙪𝙡—𝙡𝙤𝙤𝙠𝙚𝙙 𝙡𝙞𝙠𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙮 𝙬𝙚𝙧𝙚 𝙘𝙖𝙧𝙫𝙚𝙙 𝙗𝙮 𝙂𝙤𝙙 𝙟𝙪𝙨𝙩 𝙩𝙤 𝙧𝙪𝙞𝙣 𝙥𝙚𝙤𝙥𝙡𝙚.
Gasps broke into screams, the crowd surging, clawing closer.
Fuck, I’ll pay triple—just one touch!
God, he’s unreal—look at his mouth, holy shit—
Touch me, baby, I’ll pay double!
Men and women alike pressed against the barricade, wallets already open, bills ready to fly. But they all knew the rule. No money, no touch. Not his body, not his lips, not even the pole he graced.
Jimin smiled—slow, cruel, the kind of smile that knew it was the reason people sinned on 𝙎𝙖𝙩𝙪𝙧𝙙𝙖𝙮 𝙣𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩𝙨. He wrapped a hand around the silver pole at the center of the stage, tilting his head like a predator considering prey.
He purred into the mic clipped to his collar, voice low and soaked in smoke.
Park Jimin
If you can’t afford me, shut the fuck up and watch.
His body moved with the music, hips rolling like a spell, thighs wrapping around the pole with indecent grace. He arched his back until the chains on his chest rattled, until sweat slid down his tattoo, until every soul in the room forgot how to breathe.
Hands reached toward the stage rings flashing, bills waving, fingers desperate to touch.
Jimin’s laugh cut through the bass, sharp and sweet.
Park Jimin
You want me? Then pay. You want to touch me? Double. You want to fuck me?
He dragged his crimson lip between his teeth, slow enough to kill.
Park Jimin
Keep dreaming. Even Hell can’t afford that price.
Men cursed. Women screamed. Mafia bosses threw fat stacks of cash at his feet. Even the college boys, red-faced and trembling, scrambled for their wallets.
He took their money with a smirk, tucking bills against his thigh like they were nothing more than tips for breathing in his direction.
One bold man shouted, “Baby, I’d sell my wife for a night with you!”
Jimin slid down the pole, landing in a split that made half the crowd groan. He licked his thumb, smudged his lip gloss, and looked right at the man.
Park Jimin
Sweetheart *purred*
Park Jimin
I don’t do discounts. Sell your wife, sell your soul—I still charge double.
Dark eyes, sharp jawline, and a smirk that wasn’t begging. It was daring. He sat back like he owned the bar, a stack of crisp bills dangling between two fingers. While the rest screamed Jimin’s name like starved worshippers, bo-gum didn’t even flinch. He didn’t chase. He waited. Calm. Confident. Predatory.
And that—that was what caught Jimin’s attention.
The crowd howled as Jimin slid down the pole in one slow, filthy split, sweat dripping down the curve of his tattoo. He ignored the money at his feet. Ignored the trembling hands reaching for him.
With hips swaying like sin, chains rattling across his chest, and glitter burning under the neon, he walked straight toward the man who wasn’t begging. The only one who dared to sit still.
The bar went silent. The air cracked with tension.
Jimin stopped just inches away, tilting his head like a cat toying with prey, lips curling into something dangerous. His voice dropped to a whisper that only bo-gum could taste.
Park Jimin
Finally *purred, eyes raking over him shamelessly*
Park Jimin
a man who doesn’t look desperate. I was starting to get bored.
The crowd strained forward, desperate to hear, but Jimin didn’t care. This wasn’t for them. bo-gum smirked wider, lifting the money toward him.
Jimin didn’t touch it with his hands. Of course not. He leaned in, slow and indecent, crimson lips brushing against the edge of the bills. He closed his mouth around them, pulling the notes free with nothing but his tongue and the sinful curve of his lips.
Screams. Cheers. Tables slammed. Jealous curses spit into the air.
But Jimin oh, Jimin he straightened with the bills between his teeth, licking the edge before sliding them down the strap of his leather shorts. His smirk was a weapon.
He leaned into the mic, letting his voice drip across the crowd like honey and venom.
He mocked, eyes glinting.
Park Jimin
That’s how a man pays. Silent. Confident. No begging. No barking. Just money.
The crowd screamed louder, fighting for his attention.
Jimin laughed, throwing his head back, chains clinking against his chest. Then he bent down again, lips dangerously close to bo-gum’s ear, voice soft, sinful, private.
Park Jimin
Congratulations *whispered*
Park Jimin
you just bought yourself the right to touch me. But only where I allow. And if you get greedy…
His crimson lips brushed a ghost against bo-gum’s jaw
bo-gum’s smirk didn’t falter. If anything, it sharpened.
Jimin pulled back, arching his back for the stage lights, voice rising for the bar again—mocking, cruel, beautiful.
Park Jimin
Listen carefully, babies. I’m not the whore here. You are. You pay to breathe me. You pay to crave me. You pay to beg me.
He licked his bottom lip, smearing the red.
Park Jimin
And even then you still can’t afford me.
The bar collapsed into chaos.
Men slammed stacks of cash onto the stage. Women screamed his name like prayers. The mafias glared like starving beasts.
He only stood there in front of bo-gum sweat dripping, glitter glowing, chains rattling smirking like the 𝗱𝗲𝘃𝗶𝗹’𝘀 𝗳𝗮𝘃𝗼𝗿𝗶𝘁𝗲 𝗯𝗼𝘁𝘁𝗼𝗺, holy in his shamelessness.
Because Park Jimin wasn’t just temptation.
Author
Well, well, well… our shameless Jimin has finally arrived on stage. 🎭✨
Author
Tell me, dear readers—did his entry feel like the beginning of a tragedy, a romance, or pure disaster wrapped in glitter? 👀
Author
Do you sense heartbreak? Obsession? Or just… chaos waiting to explode? 😏🔥
Author
Drop your thoughts below—I’m dying to know if you loved it, hated it, or if you’re just here for the drama like me. 💋
Rooftop Shadows.
The night air was sharp, slicing through the city like a blade. The streets were nearly empty, lit only by the harsh glow of streetlights and the distant hum of traffic.
Jungkook’s luxury car glided through the darkness, engine humming with quiet authority. His tailored coat hugged his broad shoulders, and even in the shadowed street, he looked every bit the picture of a man who commanded attention smart, composed, and undeniably handsome.
He didn’t glance at his phone, didn’t check the time. He only knew one thing: he had to get to the hospital. And fast.
Inside the brightly lit emergency room, nurses whispered urgently to one another, their eyes darting toward the lift. A patient someone on the edge of losing everything was on the rooftop. The wind was biting, tugging at the edges of coats and hair, the city sprawling below like a sleeping giant.
Nurse
Dr. Jungkook *called, her voice strained*
Nurse
It’s… it’s serious. He’s on the rooftop.
Jungkook’s jaw tightened. His hand brushed against the polished leather of his car keys before he slipped them into his coat pocket.
Jeon Jungkook
Take me to the elevator. Now.
His voice was calm, measured, but it carried the kind of authority that made everyone step aside without question.
As the lift ascended, the tension in the air thickened. Doctors followed behind him, some whispering words of caution, others silently praying that the situation wouldn’t spiral out of control.
When the doors opened, Jungkook walked onto the rooftop as if he had been there a thousand times before. The wind whipped through his hair, tugging at his coat, but he remained composed, his sharp eyes scanning the figure at the edge of the ledge.
The man was trembling, a shadow of despair in his eyes. His voice was hoarse, barely more than a whisper, but it carried the weight of a life shattered.
Min ho
No one… no one loves me anymore. My wife… my children… they’ve all left. There’s nothing left for me. I just… I want it to end.
Jungkook took a careful step forward, hands relaxed at his sides, his presence calm yet commanding.
He said softly, but every word was deliberate, measured, a lifeline thrown across the abyss.
Jeon Jungkook
I know it feels like the world has abandoned you. But ending your life… that won’t fix anything. You’re not alone. Not tonight.
The man flinched, shaking his head violently.
Min ho
You don’t understand! My life is ruined! I… I just want it to end!
Jeon Jungkook
Maybe your life feels ruined *said, taking a measured step closer*
Jeon Jungkook
But tonight, I promise, we’re going to find a way through this. I’m not just a doctor l’m someone who won’t leave you here. Do you hear me?
A Doctor stepped forward, an older psychiatric specialist with a calm, fatherly demeanor.
Mr Min
Jungkook, remember he’s unstable. Keep your distance, keep him talking. Don’t rush.
Jungkook nodded once, a silent acknowledgment of strategy. He approached slowly, his hands still visible, his voice a tether of safety.
Jeon Jungkook
What’s your name? *asked*
The man swallowed hard, tears mixing with the wind.
Jeon Jungkook
Min-ho *repeated, letting the name anchor him to reality*
Jeon Jungkook
I’m Jungkook. You’re not alone tonight, Min-ho. I’m here. We’re going to get through this together. Look at me.
Jungkook continued, his voice a mixture of authority and empathy, the kind that could make someone stop and actually listen.
Jeon Jungkook
Life isn’t perfect. It isn’t fair. But the pain you feel right now… it doesn’t define your story. You can start again. You can fight. And you don’t have to do it alone.
He moved closer, but never threateningly. He maintained a space that respected the man’s fear while asserting calm control.
Jeon Jungkook
I don’t know what brought you to this point. Maybe it’s loss… maybe it’s betrayal. But I promise you, if you step back from that edge, if you choose to stay… I’ll help you. I’ll make sure you’re safe. I’ll be here.
The rooftop was silent except for the howling wind. Min ho grip on the ledge loosened slightly. Jungkook’s dark eyes, steady and unwavering, held his gaze. He reached out a hand not forceful, but offering connection.
Jeon Jungkook
Look at me. You are not invisible. You are not a failure. You deserve to live. You deserve to be heard.
Tears streaked down Min ho face, his body trembling from fear and relief all at once. Slowly, ever so slowly, he allowed Jungkook to guide him back from the edge. Doctors and nurses moved closer once they saw the shift, ready to assist but it was Jungkook’s presence, his unwavering composure, that held Min ho steady.
As the man collapsed into Jungkook’s arms, exhausted but alive, Jungkook whispered softly, almost to himself
Jeon Jungkook
Sometimes… the bravest thing is to let someone else catch you when you’re falling.
The older doctor clapped a hand on Jungkook’s shoulder.
Mr Min
You did it. You saved him.
Jungkook’s eyes softened just slightly, his hands relaxing. He didn’t smile he never needed to but the weight of relief in his chest was undeniable.
Tonight, Jungkook had come not for glory, not for recognition, but because one human life mattered. Even after wealth, after power, after endless responsibilities, he had chosen to come. He was 𝗮 𝗴𝗲𝗻𝘁𝗹𝗲𝗺𝗮𝗻, 𝗮 𝗵𝗲𝗿𝗼, 𝗮 𝗱𝗼𝗰𝘁𝗼𝗿 𝘄𝗵𝗼 𝗸𝗻𝗲𝘄 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗽𝗼𝘄𝗲𝗿 𝗼𝗳 𝗽𝗿𝗲𝘀𝗲𝗻𝗰𝗲 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗽𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗲𝗻𝗰𝗲. And tonight, that power had saved a soul.
Author
So… readers, how did you like Jungkook’s grand entrance? Smooth, hot, and heroic enough for you?
Author
Alright, my loves ✨, don’t forget to like and comment. Next chapter? Oh, it’s about to get toxic, angsty, and messy in ways you’ve never seen. Our next hero, Taehyung, is making his grand entrance… and trust me, you’re not ready.
I’m the whore.
𝗪𝗵𝘆 𝘄𝗮𝗶𝘁 𝗳𝗼𝗿 𝗺𝗼𝗻𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗿𝘀 𝘄𝗵𝗲𝗻 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗰𝗮𝗻 𝗯𝗲 𝗼𝗻𝗲?
The bass from the club shook the floor like a second heartbeat, neon lights flashing against the mirrored walls of Jimin’s private room.
Jimin was perched lazily on the velvet sofa, one leg crossed over the other, sequined shirt slipping off his shoulder like an invitation nobody could refuse. He looked like sin dressed in glitter, a hooker who made his own rules.
Bogum sat across from him, restless, eyes burning holes into every inch of Jimin’s skin. He wanted to touch. God, he wanted to claim. But Jimin had already drawn the line, lips curled into a smirk that promised pleasure and punishment all at once.
Park Jimin
You want me, baby?
Jimin teased, voice syrupy sweet. He tapped his finger against his lips.
Park Jimin
Then you listen. You touch only where I allow. Otherwise—
He snapped his fingers in the air, sharp, like a queen dismissing her servant.
Bo Gum nodded too quickly, his hands trembling like a schoolboy caught sneaking into church. He shoved a wad of cash across the table, desperate, almost shaking.
Jimin laughed low, a sound that wrapped around the man’s throat like satin and barbed wire.
Park Jimin
Money’s not patience, sweetheart. I said my rules. Hands off unless I say so.
Bo Gum swallowed hard. His hands twitched with restraint, itching to grab, to take. But he didn’t dare. Not yet.
Jimin leaned forward and pressed his lips against Bo Gum’s mouth, slow at first, teasing, then deepening until the kiss turned sloppy, sinful, shameless. He tasted like cigarettes and whiskey, and Jimin loved it. Loved the way men shook under his touch. Loved the control.
The client’s fists clenched at his sides, desperate to roam over Jimin’s curves. The urge to pin him down, to bend him over the dressing table, was written all over Bo Gum’s eyes.
Jimin’s mouth moved like he owned every second of it, sucking on Bo Gum’s bottom lip until the man groaned out loud. Bo Gum tried to reach for his waist, desperate to hold, to claim, but Jimin smacked his wrist away with a sharp little chuckle.
Park Jimin
Ah, ah. Didn’t I just say no touching? *Whispered against his lips, breath hot*
Park Jimin
Money doesn’t change the rules, baby. I do.
Bo Gum froze, tortured, his hands curling into fists. His entire body trembled with restraint.
Then Jimin broke the kiss, lips swollen, smirk curling wide. He tilted his head, whispering low
Park Jimin
You look like you’re dying *teased, his voice honeyed poison*
Park Jimin
Go on then, kiss me back. I’m feeling generous tonight.
The change was immediate. Bo Gum slammed him back against the wall, mouth crashing down with hunger that had been building too long. Their teeth clashed, tongues tangling, kisses spilling sloppy and breathless. His hands roamed desperately now waist, chest, thighs... until one finally cupped Jimin’s ass.
Jimin moaned, shameless and loud, arching into the touch.
Park Jimin
Oh, fuck… you finally got your toy, huh? *laughed between kisses, teeth nipping Bogum’s lip*
Park Jimin
Don’t break too fast, baby. I like them alive.
His fingers yanked Bo Gum’s shirt open, nails scraping over bare skin.
The room filled with the sound of gasps and wet kisses. Jimin tugged at Bo Gum’s hair, biting at his lip hard enough to draw a hiss. Bo Gum pressed him tighter against the wall, kissing down his neck with open-mouthed hunger, teeth grazing, tongue soothing the sting.
The room pulsed with heat until a phone started buzzing. Once. Twice. Then relentlessly. Neither wanted to stop. Jimin tugged Bogum’s hair to keep his mouth busy, but the buzzing cut through the air like a curse.
Bogum finally pulled away, breathless, fumbling for his phone. The second he saw the caller ID, his face drained.
Park Jimin
What? *asked, smirking at his panic*
Park Jimin
Your wife? Your boss? Or maybe Daddy found out where you’ve been spending his money?
Bogum glared, but his hands shook as he answered.
Park bo gum
📱H-Hello? Hyung *voice trembling*
？？？
📱Where the hell are you?
The voice demanded, low and venomous. No greeting, no hesitation. Just raw authority that bit through the line.
？？？
📱I’m at the airport, and you’re not here. Don’t tell me you’re wasting my time.
Park bo gum
📱I—I was at the church. I just— *Stammered*
Jimin cackled, loud enough for the receiver.
Park Jimin
Church? Baby, if this is a church, then I'm the Virgin Mary. Want me to pray on my knees for you?
The line went silent for a moment. Then the voice returned colder, sharper, like venom.
Disgust dripped from every syllable.
？？？
📱And with a whore. I can hear him. His voice makes me want to vomit.
Jimin froze for a second, then tilted his head back, laughing. Shameless, loud, cruel. He shouted toward the phone, lips curled wickedly.
Park Jimin
You’re damn right, darling. I’m the whore. And he’s loving every second of it.
The other man’s voice thundered back, colder, darker, the kind that left no room for air.
？？？
📱Shut the fuck up. Your voice makes me sick. Trash like you shouldn’t even exist.
It wasn’t just words it was venom spit with centuries of hate. As if Jimin’s very existence made him want to wash his ears out with blood.
Jimin’s smirk faltered, just for a heartbeat—but then his chin lifted higher, eyes burning with defiance. He stepped closer, lips brushing the phone’s speaker as he purred.
Park Jimin
Sick or not, you’re still listening, aren’t you? Men like you… they spit on me, call me filth. But they never walk away. They come back. They always come back.
The voice on the other end exhaled, slow, dangerous.
？？？
📱Don’t flatter yourself. If I wanted filth, I could buy a city full of it. You? You’re not worth the dirt under my shoes.
Jimin’s laugh was bitter, shameless, a little broken around the edges.
Park Jimin
Maybe. But right now, your precious boy is on his knees for me. Think about that tonight when you’re choking on your own pride.
The silence that followed was thick, suffocating. Then the voice snapped, colder than ice.
？？？
📱You’re nothing. And I don’t waste time on nothing. Don’t let me hear you again.
The words stabbed through the receiver like knives. For the first time that night, Jimin felt a chill. Not fear—no, never fear—but rage.
Jimin sneered, rolling off Bo Gum's lap.
Park Jimin
Tch. What a bastard. Bet he jerks off to his own reflection.
He grabbed the champagne glass from the table, downing it in one shameless gulp before snapping
Park Jimin
Next time, answer your sugar daddy before you come crying in here. Idiot.
Bo Gum scrambled into his shirt, panic in his movements.
Park bo gum
I—I have to go. I’ll… I’ll come back, Jimin. I swear, I’ll—
Jimin rolled his eyes, slipping his robe over his bare shoulders like a queen dismissing a peasant.
Park Jimin
Yeah, run home to your master *mocked*
Park Jimin
And don’t you dare crawl back here. I don’t entertain cowards twice.
Bo Gum hesitated, lips parted, as if he wanted to say something more. But Jimin already turned his back, smoothing glitter over his chest in the mirror.
Park Jimin
Door’s that way, baby *muttered*
Park Jimin
And next time… don’t waste my lipstick.
Bo Gum staggered out, nearly tripping, leaving Jimin alone in the room with nothing but the taste of venom still crawling through his veins.
Jimin leaned back in the velvet chair, legs crossed, his shirt still half open, collarbones glistening with the heat of what just happened. He flicked a lighter, the flame catching for a second before he lit the cigarette pressed lazily between his lips. Smoke curled around him, hazy, ghostlike, wrapping his body like another lover.
He chuckled low, a bitter kind of melody, exhaling a cloud toward the ceiling.
He repeated the man’s words from the call, his voice dripping mockery.
Park Jimin
Cute. They’ve been calling me worse since I was twelve.
Another laugh. Too bright. Too sharp. It cracked through the silence like glass. He tilted his head, staring at the smoke twisting in the air as though it was performing just for him.
Park Jimin
Want to know a secret?
He whispered to the empty room, voice sweet as poison.
Park Jimin
You know, daddy dearest made sure of that. Sold me once, and the world never stopped buying. Cute, isn’t it? A kid who learned what his body was worth before he learned how to spell his own name.
He laughed again, sharper this time, shaking his head as if mocking himself. His lips curved in a smile so beautiful it hurt, but his eyes glistened with a madness born from old scars.
Park Jimin
They broke me before I even knew what whole was. Hands, breath, teeth—over and over until I forgot what innocence sounded like. And now?
He tapped ash into the tray, smirking bitterly.
Park Jimin
𝙉𝙤𝙬 𝙄 𝙨𝙚𝙡𝙡 𝙞𝙩 𝙢𝙮𝙨𝙚𝙡𝙛. 𝙒𝙝𝙮 𝙬𝙖𝙞𝙩 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙢𝙤𝙣𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙨 𝙬𝙝𝙚𝙣 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙘𝙖𝙣 𝙗𝙚 𝙤𝙣𝙚?
The cigarette burned between his fingers, ash scattering like fragments of a past he never buried. He inhaled again, held it in, and let the smoke seep from his lips with a sigh that sounded too much like relief.
Park Jimin
And you know what? *voice dropped, playful, mockingly tender*
Park Jimin
I liked it. Or maybe I learned to. Can’t tell anymore. Pain… mmh, pain is better than love. Pain stays. Love doesn’t.
He laughed again, high-pitched, musical, almost pretty—if not for the jagged madness underneath. He pressed the cigarette to his lips, kissing the filter like it was an old friend, letting ash fall down the front of his bare chest without even flinching.
Park Jimin
People pay thousands to fuck me now. To bite, to bruise, to choke. And I let them. Because it reminds me I’m still alive.
He dragged in another breath of smoke, this time shuddering, this time smiling too wide.
Park Jimin
𝘋𝘰𝘯’𝘵 𝘱𝘪𝘵𝘺 𝘮𝘦, 𝘥𝘢𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨
He whispered to no one, licking the taste of nicotine from his lips.
Park Jimin
𝘐 𝘥𝘰𝘯’𝘵 𝘴𝘶𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘯𝘺𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦. 𝘐 𝘴𝘢𝘷𝘰𝘳.
His laughter followed, wild and cruel, echoing through the room—half hysteria, half symphony, 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘀𝗼𝘂𝗻𝗱 𝗼𝗳 𝗮 𝗺𝗮𝗻 𝘄𝗵𝗼 𝗵𝗮𝗱 𝗹𝗼𝗻𝗴 𝗮𝗴𝗼 𝘀𝘁𝗼𝗽𝗽𝗲𝗱 𝗳𝗲𝗮𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗵𝗲𝗹𝗹 𝗯𝗲𝗰𝗮𝘂𝘀𝗲 𝗵𝗲 𝗵𝗮𝗱 𝗺𝗮𝗱𝗲 𝗶𝘁 𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝗵𝗼𝗺𝗲.
Author
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Author
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