#cultural practices. those get demonized too sometimes.

[gold-snek-hoe]

Hello and welcome to Opinions from an Internet Nobody. Today's essay:

"Ger therapy" is the new "You need Jesus": One Weirdo's Navigation through Cultural Shame

This is a supposedly well-meaning sentiment that is often weaponized against people who are behaving outside of perceived cultural norms. It's a favorite of homophobes who see queerness/transness as a mental illness, but I've been seeing it used to demonize kink (which historically is often linked to queerness), and more generally any "weird" behavior that makes people uncomfortable.

For example, otherkin, systems (especially those with fictives), and people who take fictional characters as partners. Y'know, "weirdos" who "can't separate reality from fiction." And, sure, sometimes there can be a problem with that distinction, but I know as well as you that most internet strangers saying "get therapy" don't actually give a shit about the mental health of those they target. It's code for "your behavior makes me uncomfortable, stop it."

Same sentiment as "you need Jesus."

This has actually taken me a long time to figure out. I've been in therapy for my entire adult life, working through various traumas, severe depression, anxiety, all that. Those were the biggest problems as they negatively impacted, and often endangered, my life. It was only after my hospitalization in 2020, where I was finally put on much needed medication, that I could start to grow into myself.

I changed my name. I top surgery. I came out as polyamorous. I finally got my official autism diagnosis. Now I'm fuckin' married! But... there are still things I'm working through in therapy. Mainly, shame over my "weirder" behaviors. My current therapist has been a huge blessing in helping me accept the things I was too ashamed to admit.

Now, I feel comfortable enough to share.

I'm otherkin. Always have been. My connection to my humanity is tenuous, and I'm sure that's connected to my autism. When mad, I feel phantom horns sprouting from my forehead. I have a tail that swishes back and forth at the base of my spine. In my soul, I am monstrous, and years of therapy has not erased that.

I feel like I'm only half in the physical world most of the time. This doesn't hinder my real-world success (I graduated college Summa Cum Laude, have an IMDB page, and am on my third book), but informs the way I look at the world. There's a whole other universe in my head that hums along with me in my day-to-day. That's part of why I'm so skilled as a writer. To ask me to divorce from that is to tell me to stop existing. Sorry, it's how I've always operated.

Lastly, and this is the one I'm really anxious about, I have a fictional husband. Now, looking at my blog, you might say "yeah, no shit," but I don't just ship myself with him. I mean I practice pop-culture Witchcraft, and the Goblin King is my patron. I mean I have a Labyrinth-themed tarot deck that I talk to him with. I mean I held a ritual to spiritually marry him. Basically, I Snape-wived myself.

And guess what? My therapist isn't concerned. It's not hurting my ability to live my life. I have other interests, hobbies, and goals outside of him, which he actively encourages in all our tarot sessions! I wouldn't be doing this if he didn't support me. My IRL spouse is usually there for whatever magical shit I'm doing, and supports me! Some of my closest friends know, and the only complaint I've gotten is "this guy seems important to you, I wish you told me sooner." Hell, my MOTHER knows and supports me, which is huge, because our relationship was pretty damaged after I came out as trans.

If you have a problem with the way I live my life, when literally nobody else does, take a good long look at why. You don't give a fuck about my mental health. You just don't like that I'm weird.

Tl;dr: My mental health is better than it's ever been since embracing the weird, so leave me and my imaginary husband Marak Sixfinger alone.

[marigoldwitch]

Witchcraft | Dirt

There are tons of different dirt, from different places, that can all hold different energies and properties. Firstly, a lot of these are my own personal correspondences. So, if something doesn't resonate with you, don't worry just try to figure out what does. Hopefully this list will at least give you an idea of where to start or maybe help you think outside the box when it comes to this specific popular tool in witchcraft.

Graveyard or Cemetery Dirt

I feel as if this is probably one of the most popular dirt, that a lot of witches have experience using. This dirt is great for lots of different work like ancestral, spirit, protection, healing, and lucky are some of the most popular uses for this dirt. Some witches believe that graveyard dirt is only useful if it's collected from an actual grave. Personally, I believe any dirt collected from a graveyard (whether it be an actual grave or just somewhere on the property) can be just as powerful. If you're doing ancestral work, it's obviously suggested that you get dirt directly from an ancestor's grave. And it's advised that you don't take dirt from the grave of someone you don't know. And don't forget to always leave an offering, even if you don't take from any specific grave (and just take it from the property) still be sure to leave an offering for the spirits that rest there.

Here's another post I made about graveyard dirt alternatives

Church or Holy Dirt

I don't see this one talked about as often as other dirt, but I think church dirt can be a very powerful tool in spells and rituals related to cleansing, healing and protection. Depending on the type of church the dirt is collected from it can also be used for other purposes too. For example, I consider catholic church dirt to be most useful in workings related to keeping secrets or helping me undercover secrets. Church dirt is powerful because the grounds are believed to be "holy ground." Also, depending on how long the church has been there, the amount of energy that has built up over the years can contribute too. Of course, I would suggest doing your research on whatever church you're thinking about getting dirt from. Just because something is considered "holy" and old, doesn't mean it's good. Plenty of churches hold bad and dark energy too. So be mindful.

An alternative for church dirt could be altar or sacred space dirt. If you practice a lot outside, in a specific spot, the ground beneath you holds that energy too. In my opinion, I'd consider that to be holy or sacred energy.

Crossroads Dirt

A crossroads is an intersection of two or more roads. I kind of bend this definition just a little bit because finding a dirt road isn't always easy. Finding a dirt path however, those are easier to come by. So, I consider cross paths to hold similar energy and properties. This dirt is great for spells and rituals related to travel (specifically astral or spiritual traveling), decision making, and manifesting opportunities. There are a ton of interesting lore around crossroads too. Most popularly known (in western cultures) as a place to summon the devil or demons that one can make a deal with for riches, fame, health etc.

Forest or Woods Dirt

Commonly a place someone might go to escape, and sometimes even get lost, forest dirt (or dirt from the woods, or a heavily wooded area) would be great for spells and rituals associated with lost things, adventurous travel, and astral work.

Dirt From Your Home

This dirt is best used in spells or rituals that directly involve or affect your physical home. Protection and banishing mostly. It's a great way to represent your home and it's energy in spells and rituals too. If you live in an apartment home, or you live in a city, you can use your own house plant's dirt as an alternative. If you're planning on traveling, you can carry a little dirt from your home as a "return home safely" charm as well.

Garden Dirt

Surprisingly this dirt can be one of the hardest to get your hands on because not everyone just has a garden, they can scoop some dirt from. Also, most gardens usually are on private property. But if you can sneak a little bit of dirt from a park garden or community garden, without ruining anything or disturbing any of the plants in the garden, I say go for it. Garden dirt is great for manifesting, growing, fertility, and abundance. Be sure to leave an offering though.

I also consider indoor herb gardens to be garden dirt too, and I believe they hold the same energy. Or even if you just have a small balcony garden at your apartment or townhome, that counts too.

Bank Dirt

Hear me out, this dirt holds lots of energy related to money, luck, and finances. This dirt is powerful in spells related to these things too. A little bank dirt in a spells jar for financial stability is very powerful.

Railroad Dirt

This dirt is perfect for spells and rituals related to traveling, exploration, and new adventures.

Park Dirt

Perfect in spells and rituals associated with community and bounding. Local parks are known for being places that people can spend time together, go to community events, and build new friendships.

Courthouse, Jail, and Prison Dirt

This dirt is great for spells and rituals related to justices and protection. It could also be used in hexes for the same reasons.

Playground Dirt

Associated with innocence and wonder, this dirt would work great in workings related to childhood or your inner child work.

Hospital Dirt

Obviously, this dirt can be powerful in spells related to healing and health. Be really mindful of the type of hospital this dirt is from. The energy at a mental health facility is going to be different than at an ER or a maternity hospital. This could theoretically be used in cursing and hexing too. So keep that in mind as well.

School or Library Dirt

Great for spells and rituals associated with education and learning in general.

Why dirt though?

Dirt is most commonly used to represent the element Earth in witchcraft and magical practices. It's not only believed that dirt holds energy related to the earth element, but that dirt itself can absorb and hold onto the energy around it. It helps plants grow, which is why a lot of witches believe burying manifestation spells will help our spells work better and faster; it'll help our manifestation grow.

Since dirt is believed to absorb and hold onto energy, it makes since that dirt in specific locations would correspond with specific energies. If hundreds and thousands of people have used a specific location for one similar purpose those grounds would be overflowing with that energy. Bank = Money. Courthouse = Justice. Graveyard = Death or Spirits. Crossroads = Travel. Church = Sacred.

How do I collect dirt?

Be very mindful of where you're taking dirt from. Don't go digging through some random person's yard or garden for dirt lol. Don't forget to leave an offering, when necessary, too. I try to be as discreet as possible when I'm collecting dirt from a more crowded public place like a courthouse or bank. Other times it's a little easier to collect dirt without many weird stares, like in the woods, at an empty church, a graveyard, old railroad tracks etc. Make sure you have something to store your dirt in (a small jar or pouch) and be sure to properly label it when you get a chance.

So how do I use it?

There are so many different ways to actually incorporate dirt into your spells and rituals, that there is no possible way I would be able to list them all in one post. But get creative with it and don't be afraid to get your hands dirty. It's not just an ingredient for a spell jar!

I'll try my best to share different ways I've used dirt in my practice in a future post, that way I can hopefully give you some ideas on what you could do in your practice.

[kingdomoftyto]

So I had a new idea for one of those too-ambitious-to-ever-actually-write fics.

I had the thought today that Simon is the only really good father figure in the entire series. Even Jake, who tries his best, kind of sucks at being a dad, and it's only because the pups are so self-sufficient that they all turn out okay. Likewise, the writing is, imo, too forgiving to Joshua for some of the tough love crap he pulled on Finn. Obviously he's nowhere near as bad a father as Martin or Hunson, but the bar is so low it's on the ground.

So it's a shame Simon, who obviously very much wants to be a dad, and who has proven to be pretty good at it even if he's made his own share of mistakes, only returns to sanity when Finn is practically an adult. They're good friends, but the window was basically already closed on him being any kind of significant parental influence in Finn's life.

Then I thought, wait. There's no rules in fanfic. I can imagine whatever what-if scenario I want!!!!!

AU where Simon is Finn's adopted dad:

In this AU, Simon is cured (or perhaps only partially cured?) not long before Finn arrives in Ooo. The HOW may or may not be relevant to the story, but he's back to himself or at least as sane as he was when he was traveling with little Marcy.

When Margaret and Joshua find baby Finn, they do a bit of investigating and find out that there's another human who lives nearby, and they go to confront him in case he was the one who abandoned the baby. Simon is of course stricken at the accusation, but the misunderstanding is cleared up and, of course, eventually it's decided that he'll take care of Finn. (I picture the dogs being reluctant to part with him at first, but then Simon overhears that they're demon hunters and is like OH ACTUALLY I'D BE GLAD TO TAKE HIM IN, IN FACT I INSIST! I HAVE A LOVELY--and safe!--HOME HAHA... MAYBE YOU AND THE TWINS CAN VISIT HIM SOMETIMES THOUGH. WON'T THAT BE NICE)

Anyway I don't know exactly where it'd go from there but there's so much you could do with this AU

Obviously Finn and Jake are still best friends even though they're not actual brothers, because they're, like, literally canonically soulmates. And being around the dog family would be more than enough for Finn to pick up his same old reckless adventurer tendencies as before, despite Simon's best efforts to keep him out of trouble. This would be one of the biggest sources of conflict between them.

Marceline would of course be Finn's cool older sister figure. Getting Simon back early would have some serious effects on Marcy's character development, though exactly how that would play out would probably depend on the circumstances of his cure (and also how involved Bonnie is in the whole situation).

(I have a scene in my head where a really young Finn asks Simon why Marcy calls him by name instead of "Dad", and Simon needs to take a Moment to process the ensuing emotions.)

Maybe the fic could explore right after Finn is adopted, when Simon and the dogs are still trying to figure out where he came from. (They all become friends in the process, which facilitates more playdates for their kids later on.) Considering Finn appeared to be abandoned, the dogs would be fairly happy to move on and let his presumably awful birth parents just get bent and rot. Simon, although surprised other humans still exist somewhere, can't deny he feels similarly. But, the bear hat sparks something in Simon's memory, and when he brings it up to Marceline she remembers the ship she'd saved all those years ago. They make the connection and realize humans must have settled somewhere across the sea. Depending on what kind of fic you want it to be, they may or may not act on this epiphany right away.

Even if they save the islands for later, I think Simon--an anthropologist at heart--would recognize the importance of keeping something as culturally important as Finn's hat, if only to remind him of his heritage later. But even if he stored it somewhere, little toddler Finn would repeatedly dig it out of the closet and insist on wearing it, until Simon acquiesced that it was just going to be Finn's thing. Like Hambo and a security blanket all wrapped in one. With another human around to model himself on, though, I think Finn would eventually stop wearing it as an actual hat all the time and instead maybe just drape it over his shoulders like a hood or capelet.

I imagine Simon would insist on some sort of homeschooling for Finn, at least part of the time, because I just can't picture Candy Kingdom schools being up to his standards, let alone anywhere else in Ooo, lmao. Plus this way he'd be able to teach Finn about human history and culture without worrying about the truth getting mixed up or lost to time. For the most part, though, Finn would haaaaate formal education, which Simon would find baffling, as a lifelong nerd academic who surrounded himself with fellow nerds academics.

So yeah, as Finn grows and it becomes clear he's not cut out for academia like his old man, Simon has to accept that the world they live in is not the same as the one he was raised in himself, and that it might actually be prudent for Finn to learn to use a sword, if only to protect himself. He reluctantly eases up on the curfews and restrictions and gradually allows Finn more freedom to go on adventures with Jake, though he's a nervous wreck every time.

(Maybe Finn convinces him to come along sometimes to prove that it's safe, and Simon actually develops some dungeoneering skills too, in this AU? 👀 As a bonus, we get more scenes like that "I was quite the outdoorsman in my day!" moment in F&C where Simon gets to show off that he WAS a little bit of an adventurer back before the War. Optionally add Marceline on these adventures, too!)

As for The Betty Situation, it could range from "she simply died a thousand years ago and Simon has no choice but to grieve and move on for his new family's sake" to "the way he's cured in this AU plays out similarly to the episode 'Betty' except something goes wrong and now she's on Mars/trapped in a time bubble/whatever and Simon has been lowkey desperately searching for her in all his spare time when not actively taking care of Finn."

.........God.

I WISH I had the discipline to write this into a proper fic. I WISH I wasn't so chronically indecisive and that I could at least pick a direction for it to go in, lmAO. I couldn't stop thinking about it all day today, ugh, I had to at least toss it out into the ether and share the concept. Please feel free to steal any or all of it and also to send me asks rambling about this show and these characters please god I'm going to lose my mind before the finale on Thursday

[yazzydream]

Speculating What the 16-Registered Special Grade Curses Are

Geto mentions that there are 16-Registered Special Grade Curses, but we only ever got to see four! In all of Jujutsu Kaisen!! I want to know what they are at least, so here's a few speculations.

First, the ones we know.

Tamamo-no-Mae Incarnate, an Imaginary Vengeful Spirit based off of Tamamo-no-Mae.

Ah, a quick explanation of Imaginary Vengeful Sprits: They're Curses built off the cumulative fear humans share over a specific figure, like a famous yokai or ghost story. Kuchisake-onna is one... But so is Sukuna. Ryomen Sukuna is the "Imaginary Demon" with two faces and four arms, but he was actually a human who existed. So, I guess this means he was changed due to people's fears of him? This kind of makes sense when you consider that the Three Great Families are also decedents of the Three Great Vengeful Spirits. I mean... those are Curses too. Actually, we can probably count all of them as among the 16-Registered Special Grades now that I think about it.

Wow, what a fruitful tangent. Let's get back to it, shall we?

1. The legend of Tamamo-no-Mae is that she was a fox spirit under the guise of a courtesan under Emperor Konoe (who reigned from 1142-1155, Heian period). The same beautiful fox spirit who led to numerous rulers getting seduced into being terrible rulers throughout history. Because of course she was.

2. The Smallpox hag is a Disease Curse. Kenjaku lied about it being a deity, (src: Vol. 20 extra) but I assume it's still a Special Grade since it can use Domain Expansion. Disease Curses are born from the fear of a disease such as the plague. The way Akutami depicts something on it's stomach like it's distended is notable. I did find Sopona, the god of smallpox in the Yoruba religion, which might've been used as a reference point.

3. Kurourushi was a Registered Special Grade from Kenjaku's (I suppose Geto's?) collection of Curse Spirits he released for the Culling Game. A cockroach curse... At this point, I think it's safe to call it a Devil from Chainsaw Man.

I actually suffered through researching cockroaches a little for this list to see if anything caught my eye. It wasn't worth it. lol. There is a neat article about cockroaches in pop culture you can read to your heart's content if you like. Obviously, swarms of cockroaches attacking people are a common enough trope. Honestly, I'm also reminded of the beetles from The Mummy, only more disgusting.

It's definitely totally irrelevant, but Metamorphosis by Franz Kafka, which is listed on that page, is about a man who turned into a giant beetle-like creature (usually thought to be a roach). I only bring it up because Mahito briefly discusses it in the first light novel.

4. An Asian God Curse not from Japan. Maybe Genesha, but more probably Kangetian, the Japanese equivalent. Kangetian has both positive and negative reception in Japan and has some Curse-like descriptions. Whereas Genesha seems like a benevolent figure... But Genesha is the one consistently depicted as pink with four arms... Y'know what, Curses are an amalgamation of human negativity anyway, I shouldn't stress about it.

From the Kangetian wiki article:

the Buddhist Vinayaka was (at least at first) negatively portrayed as the creator of obstacles and the leader of a class of malignant demons who obstructed Buddhist practice called vinayakas [...]

And there's this:

On the other hand, he is considered to be still bound by base passions and desires (kleshas) and thus is sometimes also regarded as a rather volatile, demanding god who is quick to punish those who have offended him.

The ones that are most likely part of the registered Curses.

The Three Great Vengeful Spirits, ancestors of the Three Great Families. There's no way they're actually around anymore, but this is just about being a "registered" Special Grade, so they had to have counted, right?

I'll try to be brief here, because somehow, this post has already ended up three times longer than I'd intended. (*edit: It did not end up brief.)

5. Sugawara no Michizane came from a middle-class family of scholars. He was considered a child prodigy, a genius, and held the second highest rank in the imperial court, right under the emperor. As you can imagine, he was the target of jealousy from other aristocrats. He was falsely accused of trying to abolish the emperor and died two years later in exile. (His greatest rivals were the Fujiwara btw, which is ironic considering what Uro thought Yuta was.)

After he died, everyone thought his enemies would continue to dominate the court. AND YET, a whole lot of them started to up and die from "accidents," illnesses, etc. ALSO, lightning repeatedly struck the imperial court and even more of his enemies died. The imperial city experienced weeks of rainstorms and floods. Anyway, everyone decided they needed to pacify what was clearly Michizane's vengeful spirit, built him a temple, and deified him as Tenjin. (Like "Raijin," god of thunder. Lol.)

6. Taira no Masakado was a samurai who's notable for leading the first recorded rebellion against the imperial court in Kyoto. Masakado worked for a powerful noble in the capital but returned to the east after his father's death. He ended up as a kind of "hero of the people" and declared himself the "new emperor" with half of Japan's land. Which, uh, obviously wouldn't fly with the imperial court. He died two months later in battle and his head was sent to Kyoto and displayed for the people to see.

But there were some strange rumors about that head... Its eyes stayed opened for months... You could hear it grinding its teeth at night... Most bizarrely, legend says the head flew back east to look for its body. Specifically, to the head mound in what would become one of the most expensive pieces of land in Tokyo's financial district.

Anyone who tries taking down the mound is faced with bad luck (including death), so it's well maintained to this day.

7. Emperor Sutoku was a puppet emperor from the age of 3 to 22; under the control of his father. After he was forced to abdicate, failed a rebellion, and forced into exile, he became a monk. Devoting himself to Buddhism, he copied scriptures and asked the court to have them sent to a temple in Kyoto, but the court sent them back claiming they were cursed. (Yeah, I know.)

Sutoku swore to become a yokai to avenge his grudge. After that, he never cut his hair or nails again. By the time he died, he looked like a demon.

Everything from the subsequent fall in fortune of the Imperial court, the rise of the samurai powers, droughts and internal unrests were blamed on his haunting.

(I found this neat series of articles about each of the Three Vengeful Spirits after typing this out, which go into them a little more: Taira no Masakado, Emperor Sutoko, Sugawara no Michizane)

8. Ryomen Sukuna needs no introduction. I will add this quote, though.

Q: It's mentioned that Sukuna was a human who actually existed, but was he a curse user when he was alive?  Akutami: You could say he was a curse user, but I think he was closer to a natural disaster.

9. Rika-chan was definitely a Special Grade. And once she was discovered, she had to have been registered as the "Queen of Curses." The question is whether Geto counted her among the 16?

Tangentially, these are my own thoughts, but human Rika... Well, reading her character profile from Volume 0 and seeing her looks-- her long dark hair, the mole on her face-- reminds me of another certain malevolent curse-like girl: The eponymous Tomie from Tomie by Junji Ito. And considering we get an Uzumaki reference later in Volume 0, I don't think it's entirely a coincidence.

That's 9 out of the 16, so actually, we knew more of the Registered Special Curses then I thought. (Speculative though it may be?)

Finally, onto the reason I made this post in the first place.

☆ Because I was one of those children that ate up supernatural mysteries and fairytales, I really liked the legend of Yuki-onna. Something about the imagery... A beautiful woman in the mountain snow leading men to their deaths... Is super poetic. Lol.

☆ Sadako from Ring. She's so ubiquitous by this point, how could there not be an Imaginary Cursed Spirit based off her? The first Ring movie came out in 2001, and before that it was a novel series. Quick summary, this should be familiar to you: Sadako is a ghost who made a cursed video tape. Whoever watches the tape will die in seven days.

Notably, Sadako is a mix of two ghosts, Oiwa and Okiku. There's also Kayako from The Grudge. I can see all of them mixing together into a Special Grade.

☆ Since Mahito mentioned the nine-tailed fox (kyuubi), it would feel remiss not to mention it. Different from Tamamo-no-Mae, this one takes the more animalistic form.

☆ Genuinely terrifying would be an atomic bomb Curse. It would look balding and gaunt... It would have radiation related powers. It would be awful.

☆ I know the Darkness Devil is a thing in Chainsaw, but considering "the dark" is one of the most fundamental fears of the human race, I'm going to say that makes sense.

☆ A "white devil"/gaijin Edo period era Curse that stems from Japan's xenophobia, especially at the time. I imagine a lot of like, Christian imagery with it. Think Eva. Lol.

A few more...

Not even Kuchisake-onna was a Special Grade... It could do Simple Domain though, so it was probably a Grade 1 Curse at least. Here are a few more ideas that could be, at least, Grade 1 in my book.

★ Kisaragi Station is just my love for that urban legend. Hey, if oceans, forests, and volcanoes can become Curses, then so can imaginary train stations! Trains are also the way so much of travel is done in Japan, I legit think this could be a possible Curse. Kisaragi Station originated from a 2ch post in 2004. A woman asks 2ch for advice when the train she usually takes home doesn't stop... until it reaches "Kisaragi Station," anyway. There was a Mob Psycho OVA with a similar idea, where Reigan was basically trapped in a Domain, now that I think of it. Hahaha.

★ Hanako-san of the Toilet was also mentioned by Mahito. And frankly, not just in Japan, but around the world, the bathroom is a place of hauntings. Here's a really great video that talks about the fear of bathrooms in media that I recommend. And here's a post I wrote a few years ago about an episode of Shin-chan that made me apprehensive of dark bathrooms as a child. Lol.

Ideas for Curses from other countries

Like Kangetian, here are a few foreign figures too. I tried to keep in mind they should be of things people felt genuine fear or hatred towards. Obviously, each culture has a great many folklore and urban legends, so I'm only listing famous ones I personally knew of.

Jack the Ripper was a real-life English serial killer, but he's risen up into something of a mythical status. There are so many fictitious takes on him, in the world of Jujutsu Kaisen I'd be shocked if he hadn't become an Imaginary Cursed Spirit.

Baba Yaga, a Slavic cannibalistic witchy figure whose preference was children. Though this story is German, think the witch from "Hansel and Gretel." There were a lot of time periods of famine in that region of the world, so I can see starvation, the desperation to eat something, leading to that widespread grotesque fear.

Bloody Mary, I think of her as American, but there's rumors that she's based off of a European woman. I'm reading the wikipedia article right now, and boy is the ritual a lot more complicated and meaningful than it actually is. Basically, you just say "Bloody Mary, Bloody Mary, Bloody Mary"; repeating her name three times, in front of a bathroom mirror and she appears. Uh, I don't think there was a reason for it. It was just spooky thing to do. Speaking of reasons to be scared of dark bathrooms... I remember trying to call out to Bloody Mary as a child at a friend's house. I cannot for the life of me remember if I chickened out or not. Probably.

La Llorona, "the Weeping Woman," of Mexican origin. She haunts areas around bodies of water looking for her children, who she drowned in life during a jealous rage when she discovered her husband cheating on her... Another female phantasm. I suppose, women are so often wronged in life, it's easy to imagine them haunting us after death. As a Curse, I can see her springing up mostly due to the guilty feelings of men who have cheated.

Why did I do this to myself? As soon as I started writing up Tamamo-no-Mae I went on a tangent (as you can see) and I spiraled. OTL Whatever, I like myths and lore and it was fun even if this ended up... so much longer than I'd expected.

[maddiviner]

Hi and I hope you are having a good day. What were the witches on 4chan like? Until I read your posts about Thelema, I didn't know there had ever been anything like that on there. Did it involve Pepe the Frog invocations? I picture Tumblr but completely the opposite politically.

Witches on 4chan? Were there?

I began lurking the /x/ board in 2010-ish after discovering it as a hub for posting creepypasta. There also were threads on /x/ about Tarot and the occult. I'd been occult-obsessed since about 1999, so I dove right in. That said, I'm not sure 4chan had a "witch community" when I was there.

There was an occult community, but witches?

Didn't know many people called themselves witches on /x/. I didn't use the term at the time. Most people on there kind of shuddered at the idea of being called a witch. Wicca especially had a bad, fluffy rep.

People used words like magicians, mages, and similar. In case that doesn't clue you in, ritual (ceremonial, "high," whatever) magic got an emphasis, as did chaos magic. That said, it's not as if the techniques and concepts didn't overlap some.

(I realize there's nebulous terminology at play here. Where does witchcraft end and ritual or so-called "high" magic begin? What counts as "chaos" magic? Good question, eh?)

The Golden Dawn system was popular. There were plenty of disagreement about the best way to talk to angels or summon demons. Most of it was a xerox of the kind of discourse you see anywhere ritual mages gather.

Aleister Crowley, as a major propagator of the Golden Dawn stuff, got lots of attention on /x/. Thelema became a regular source of arguments on /x/.

In case you're not familiar with Thelemic cultural traditions and customs, arguments are a huge Thelemic tradition. Inside and outside of that, people had slapfights over whether Frater So-and-So was the real Such-and-Such of This-and-That.

Many people tried to charge/cast sigils by posting them on /x/. There was an element of attention equaling sigil success? An ancestor of "likes to charge, reblogs to cast?"

The most popular threads were for Tarot readings, though. People would post using tripcodes and do readings for anonymous users. I did this a bit as practice, but it was hard to get feedback of course.

All in all, it wasn't much more than a chaotic online space with occult vibes. Those aren't exactly rare. You could find plenty on Facebook and Amino. Heck, Tumblr shares some commonalities.

The kind of right wing community 4chan would become known as was only in its early stages at that point. It was also self-quarantined to other, non-/x/ boards, and rarely mentioned elsewhere. I suspect the site, or at least /x/ itself, was more center than right-wing, at least at the time.

Back in the early 2010s, I'd recently left school, where I hadn't exactly learned much as far as I'm concerned. When it came to social/political issues, I didn't know my ass from my ears. It's a good thing I didn't run into too many covert fascist types. Instead, I scrolled through posts about One Man Hide and Seek, OTO discourse, and the Hatman.

Don't get me wrong. There were definitely (some) genuine (loud) bigots and jerks on the site back then, too, of course. And there were small cults that sprang up via Skype, people harassing their exes, and so on. JoS (and we all hopefully know who they are by now) would sometimes try and recruit, with mixed results.

But that alleged Pepe egregore stuff? Not a thing on /x/ when I was on there. Pepe as a regular old meme rather than a political symbol was a thing, though. It was innocuous at the time. He showed up in /x/ memes, doing Enochian evocations or talked to Goetic kings, stuff like that.

I was on /x/ around the same time that Gamergate happened, and 4chan made the news about it. I'm sure this was a huge topic on boards like /pol/ and /v/, but it didn't get much attention from other places on the site.

As a 4chan janitor (won't name them) put it back then, "the girl posting on the origami board doesn't know or care about Gamergate." The media's image of 4chan as some kind of underground attack site has never been accurate.

Overall? 4chan's /x/, at least in 2010-2014-ish, wasn't much worse than (for example) current-day Facebook. A mess, yeah, but not exactly the swamp of bigotry you might've imagined. Mostly just ridiculous, over-the-top, and dramatic.

That doesn't mean I've plans to go back, or that I recommend it, but it wasn't like you're thinking. I don't know what the site, or even just /x/, is like now, of course. I ended up leaving the site and a lot of related communities over the years.

[bitchwholikesshitposting]

Heyo!!! pinned post time yippeeeee

(definitely do NOT check my #bitchart tag and reblog literally every single one of my drawings haha that would be terrrrible wowwww)

(Also DEFINITELY do not go follow @askthewheatleyverse and send me a million asks nooooo)

❗DISCLAIMER ❗

This intro might be changed and/or outdated at any point. I am a teenager and still figuring myself out. This is literally the identity crisis stage of life. Dont be alarmed if Im completely different tomorrow pls :)

My name is Bitch, and you can't stop me. :) (Alternate names include Gunnar, Demonic and Static)

I am a minor. I can interact with adults but like. don't. be a creep, the block and report button is there for a reason bud

NSFW accounts are unwelcome. get out pls :D

Bisexual and has a VERY fucked up gender. What's my gender? WHO KNOWS BITCH IT SURE IS IN EXISTANCE

I can draw. Sometimes. And also write. S. Sometimes not really

I like to like. Write up media analyses however you say it and reviews so watch out for those. I'm not like a professional critic or anything though. I just have a lot of thoughts about silly funne robors

I'll probably post a lot of stuff about my OCs, they'll be tagged and shit but watch out for THOSE absolute jumpscares. And also maybe interact and reblog anf gib your thoughts too because that'd be very encouraging and wowowo,,,

Wheatley not stupid truther. Have a. Lot of thoughts about that but I'm gonna keep them to myself so I don't get mauled

We're a system, I'm gonna be the main one posting on here but if there's ever anybody else we'll tag them!! :)

WE DO NOT ACCEPT CRINGE CULTURE HERE. FUCK YOU DRAWS FURRY ART DRAWS FURRY ART DRAWS FURRY ART

Pronoun list: He/It/They/Terror/Flame/Wheat/Burn/Bit/Gear/Vil/Claw/Cloud/Corrupt/Devil/Creature/Dae/Death/Fright, probably more. Use whatever you want i don't have prefs mostly

Interests list: Portal 2 (biggest interest, very important to me!!!), FNAF, The Sun And Moon Show, Bendy, Inscryption/The Hex/Pony Island, Spiderverse, Phoenix Wright (have only gotten through the first game so far, working on the second), TAWOG, Among us (i am aware of how funny that is), HLVRAI/RTVS, Team Fortress 2, Garten Of Banban (fuck the euphoric brothers), Adventure Time, Tattletail, and Billie Bust Up!

Weird brain things I have: Autism, ADHD, Anxiety, Depression, DID, RSD, Misophonia, the point is my brain said fuck you and gave me every disorder known to man. I might also have BPD, but I am not sure yet and need to look into it more.

Anyways come hang out with me if you feel like you're ready for the torment

(You can also check out my A03 here. They’re just for funsies and writing practice :) )

[hassedah]

Hi Hassedah. How are you?

I’m not sure that’s something you do, since we barely have any info :( but if so, do you have any hc‘s about the demon realm Leandra and Bel come from?

I‘m still sad we didn’t get Leandra’s route 💔

Headcanons on succubi and incubi:

Hi Anon! I'm fine, I hope you're well too! ^^

I'm also sad that Léandra and Farah's routes have been cancelled. I was really looking forward to Farah's route, it was my favourite of the two.

Here is the headcanon you requested, I've tried to make do with the information we get on the road to Beliath, but the game doesn't start talking about incubi and succubi until chapter 7. I hope you enjoy it! ^^

Take care of yourself and have a nice day! ^^

--------------------------------

Succubi and incubi are born with wings. Some have plumage on their wings that depends very much on the colour of their parents' feathers. Others have more bat-like wings.

Those with wings, like bats, tend to fall asleep using them as a blanket.

Horns and wings are a marker of power and longevity. The older and more powerful the succubus or incubus, the bigger its horns and wings.

Having a broken horn or, worse still, a lost or deformed wing is a great shame for succubi and incubi, and most of those to whom this happens prefer to live in seclusion and not show themselves to their fellow creatures.

The tattoos on their bodies are different for each of them.

As their horns grow all their lives, they sometimes have growth spurts which cause very painful headaches.

Apart from that, incubi and succubi very rarely fall ill.

Succubi and incubi are among the most powerful supernatural species.

It is very rare for a succubus or incubus to choose a single partner for life. It is even considered an anomaly. Those who do are generally ostracized and ridiculed.

It's very hot in the dimension where succubi and incubi live, so they have a hard time tolerating the cold temperatures on earth and only go out in winter to hunt.

One of the most popular celebrations is an aerobatics contest held every 66 years, bringing together a large number of succubi and incubi.

They have their own demonic language, characterised by a lot of hissing and guttural sounds, some of which are very difficult to pronounce, especially for humans or for supernatural species that were previously human, but it's not impossible with practice.

Their culture is mainly oral, so it is very difficult for other species to learn more about incubi and succubi.

The infant mortality rate is very high among succubi and incubi, mainly due to the fact that adults take very little care of their children, which is why their population has been in decline for many centuries.

With their populations dwindling, duels to the death between succubi and incubi are increasingly frowned upon.

They can sense the attraction their prey feels for them and the most gifted incubi and succubi in hypnosis know how to adapt immediately to achieve an appearance that is best suited to charming their victims.

The pheromones they give off to charm their prey are very powerful and hard to resist. One of the few species able to do this without difficulty are mermaids, who use much the same principle to hunt their prey.

They are not much appreciated by other supernatural species, mainly because of their lack of loyalty and the trickery they easily display.

Succubi and incubi have great difficulty in reading the emotions of other supernatural species, and can easily understand only fear, attraction and anger.

The only weapons that can be used to kill a pure-blood succubus or incubus are those that have been enchanted by sorcerers or mages. However, they are very difficult to obta

They are the supernatural species with the most hybrids among them.

Hybrids are regularly, but they do not participate in the life of society. Their infant mortality rate is also even higher than that of succubi and incubi, as they are less powerful and even more often abandoned.

Hybrids very rarely have horns and wings like succubi, and even when they do, they are very small.

The only thing hybrids seem to inherit on a regular basis are the psychic abilities of their incubus or succubus parts.

Hybrid incubi and succubi are among the species most hunted by demon hunters, mainly because they are easier to kill or take prisoner than pure-blooded incubi or succubi.

[reinstarnation]

hey question (rhetorical because I know the answer is culture and cultural expectations vs atypical spirituality and the like in a derogatory way)

not to be very religious trauma on main but why is it when a pd trait is "believes in magic and superstitions" does it NEVER ENCOMPASS RELIGION? like that is clearly magical thinking and shit too

oh you think that if you suffer in a "good way" and only eat bread that "sometimes is flesh" and wine that "sometimes is blood" you'll go to a place after you die full of unproblematic people? HOW IS THAT NOT MAGICAL THINKING

oh you think that if you say something funky words an agender bodiless omniscient being with infinite power and who is psychically linked with everyone to know which afterlife they'll go to will cure your disease or your failing marriage because you've been an uwu good person who says the magic words regularly and witnesses the magic book? HOW IS THAT NOT MAGICAL THINKING

like that's not even going into problematic forms of Christianity. like "science is fake" Christianity. or LGBT phobic Christianity. or "if you aren't Christian you're evil" Christianity. or "I'm Christian I can't do anything bad ever because I'm God's specialest babygirl" Christianity.

like every example is usually associated with spiritualism or "nontraditional" religious practice. belief in ghosts/spirits, means of communication with ghosts and spirits, use of crystals, witchcraft in general--- those are all listed as examples of magical thinking and your brain might be wrong™️

like I'm sorry my belief in spirits and gods outside of your sometimes jackass god-insert that isn't even biblically/Abrahamically accurate and gave me mass trauma makes you think my brain is messed up. it is but not in that way.

I'd get it if it was to the point of distress, but no it's listed as just the belief in it. my spiritual belief in spirits and their influence is not problematic because it's a comfort and harmless. my psychotic belief in the demons following me because I played a horror game when i know I shouldn't is problematic because it's harmful to myself.

[the-sun-system]

WIP Pinned Post/About Us/DNI/Alter Info

☀️ The Sun System ☀️

DNI:

Basic DNI Criteria/supporters of any of that

Minors (No DMs, only sfw public interaction is ok)

Endos/supporters (whilst we don't think forcing people to remember their trauma is helpful, it is impossible to tell who is faking vs who has forgotten or discredited their trauma, therefore this DNI covers all endos/non-traumagenic)

Tulpas (For those who have a right to be involved in the closed practice, please know that this is not a thing against you. I just believe our experiences as systems are so different that I'd prefer to not have you in my trauma spaces if you don't consider yourself traumagenic. For those who don't have a right to be involved in that closed practice, fuck off.)

Anyone who fakeclaims individual systems, regardless of if you are a system or not, and anyone who supports doing so. There is no way for you to know, and it hurts all of us if we allow anyone to fakeclaim. If it bothers you, block and move on in our opinion, and if it's misinfo, you can address that without fakeclaiming. Real systems can post misinfo too, intentionally or unintentionally.

Pro ED or posts sp0/supporters (I get not being ready for recovery, it's just triggering for some of us.)

SH-centric blogs; posting about it sometimes is fine if tw are used on any images involved at least, but if that is your entire blog then plz do not

South Park/American Dad/Family Guy/Big Mouth themed blogs and alters from those sources - not because of issues with problematic introjects or anything, just because these specifically are extremely triggering to us for reasons completely outside of their subject matter and/or humor

About Us (More info in userboxes at the bottom under the cut):

Body is 24 year old and FtM (we use that term for ourselves exclusively because not all of us identify with the words transmasc/man or any variation thereof, but we all can agree the body is transitioning from female to male)

We are a recently professionally diagnosed DID system. Up until then, we were self dx though we thought it was OSDD not DID - so we do very much support researched self-dx and do not judge if you find out you were wrong.

Any post we either made or added to will be marked with thesunsystem tag so we can go back and reread stuff easier (gotta love the amnesia).

As any neurodivergencies and/or developmental disorders are shared throughout a system (since we all use the same brain), we all are autistic and have: ADHD, ASPD, OCD, and PTSD. Certain alters hold more symptoms than others of course, and some struggle more or less with said symptoms. Non-neurological disorders some of us struggle with are MDD, Panic Disorder, and GAD. All of these have been professionally diagnosed throughout our years of mental health professional help.

Alter List:

(Not all of us are currently comfortable sharing our names; these alters will either use a shorthand for their name or emojis to identify themselves)

Host - He/Him, brainmade shapeshifting demon/demonkin

🐈 - He/They, fictive (has integrated, we will hold this for him out of love and respect)

Becca; 📚/🍒 - She/Her preferred, they/them ok, brainmade @im-ur-cherry-bomb

Hilbert; HB/🩻 - He/Him, fictive @404name-not-found

Doug; 🛰 - He/Him, fictive @jettisoned-again

C/☕️ /🚬 - He/Him, fictive @hell-of-a-sunset

Miranda Pryce; 💎 - She/Her, fictive @input-error

Peter/👼 - He/They/It/Celestial Neos/honestly any besides she, brainmade angel @scorched-feather

Jacobi; J/♣️/🧨 - He/Him, fictive @explosion-noises

Note that we use the block button to curate our experience. If we block you, it doesn't necessarily mean you did anything wrong. We have triggers associated with many pop-culture things, and if an account posts about them too often, we will block for our safety. Of course, we also use the block feature for its traditional purpose. If we block you, kindly do not reach out/interact via a different blog.

[credit: systemuserboxes]

[halleyuhm]

I saw you were looking how to get into the writeblr community.

And I was wondering, what are your current WIP’s or blorbos? Rambles welcome! (No seriously if you look at my blog I am nothing without rambling)

I don’t really know you, but I too want to get in the community more and know more people! Writeblr can be a struggle!

Hi, thank you for the ask and the kind words! I've been working on the answer for a while because tbh I have so many wips (ENFP issues with finishing stuff) that I had to choose those that do have a chance to be completed someday haha

So these are my more advanced wips:

Route LXVI. Status: Fixing plotholes, reducing the number of words, and editing in general. It's my only slice of life so far. I began writing it because I wanted to practice my English and use a real-life setting. I got hooked haha. It tells the story of Liv (Olivia), whose past has affected the way she approaches relationships. The story follows her character development throughout the events that take place around her. I actually wrote a synopsis, soo copy-paste:

Living with her sister in Orlando, with an exhausting job and trying to finish her studies, Olivia has no interest nor time for distracting stuff. But after her online friends suggest she should start taking her gaming channel more seriously, her life changes. Quite literally. Behind anonymity, Liv can have whichever life she wants, away from her most hidden secrets. The new hobby allows her to turn into LXVI, a joyous and bubbly girl with a perfect life. And maybe that's what Liv needs to feel happy again. But, she also has to deal with real life as well, including bad choices, faulty relationships, and the hot new problem called Damien. And, when real and virtual life mix, how many lies are too many lies? How much can you trust someone on the other side? And, what happens if you fall in love with a boy on the other coast of the country?

Lunática. Status: writing. Genre: fantasy. The idea is to have the story set in the current modern world but with magic creatures aka Beasts (werewolves, vampires, witches, and the like), and Hunters of those. It's a mash-up of some different blorbos I previously had and couldn't manage to finish, so I'm still working out how they fit together. In the basic storyline, the main character's family (code name: Lex) belongs to the Hunters faction, but she doesn't know anything about this. Until she saves a "wolf" and later finds a human with the same wound markings, so she adds two + two. As a bonus, she develops water powers that change according to the Moon phase... and she wears hearing aids, which sometimes pick up voices that shouldn't be there... I want to play around with synesthesia, portals, clans, and abilities for this one.

Ichor. Status: planning and world-building. Just like the previous wip, this is a mash-up of ideas, but now in a High Fantasy medieval-like setting where different realms come into play. In this world, the only creatures that are magical by nature are the inhabitants of the other realms (which in layman's terms are shapeshifter angels and demons). Humans have discovered that they can also cast spells if they use the blood of the first group, and this leads to the expected wars, refugees, famine, closed realms, and prejudices. The main character's story is still a mess of imagery I'm yet to put together, but the main idea is for her to be a shapeshifter affiliated with the human military who slowly discovers the plotting going on behind closed doors, as well as the truth about her past.

By the stars foretold. Status: writer's block. This is a High Fantasy set-up where I have 4 different narrators whose stories are alternatively told through the chapters. Each one belongs to a different background, culture, ideology, classical nature element... Their code names are Ruby, Zak, Silva, and Enzo. They intertwine and separate along the story while they all pursue their own goals, which slowly converge into the same one, in a sort of "tangled destinies" story, and I plan for at least one of them to become a 'villain'. There are dragons and other magic creatures, different countries in war, magic academies, royalty plots, tournaments, and bustling city life. The issue? I started writing with no plan in mind because I just wanted to enjoy the characters, and now I've reached a point where I should already know what the end game is. Besides, some ideas overlap with the previous wip! I still have a long way to go but at least I like where it is going.

So these are the most advanced, but I have more blorbos around there which are just a basic idea and some scenes, names or even endings: I have a wip about a magic (called Modulation) Academy where everyone has their own ability, and I have the beginning and the end but not the middle xd.

Anyways! Thanks for letting me ramble! Writeblr is indeed a struggle and this has immensely helped me start expressing myself (and I really like your blog, btw!).

See you around!

[slumberpartysongs]

S.O.S.F. 余命二年

Oomori Seiko - S.O.S.F. 余命二年 (S.O.S.F. Two Years Left to Live )

Tacky, Machiavellian, Troy, the Future [1] I will, I will, I will, I will Depart to my death day with a time machine If I only had two years left, I would, I would, I would, I would speed up to the point that I could finish all the things I’d left undone in two years’ time

“It’s a good thing that that’s the same way you live now” You told me that! So I'm the winner! My dream dream dream dreams Give me a big head THANKYOUADHD

Two years left to live, today I stood right under a meteor shower as dawn broke I become melancholy thinking about speed limits I don't agree with the famous depictions of sadness. Sadness doesn't disappear if you go to protests, or use hashtags, or surround yourself with people.

Love, romance, that ardor, this coda, shut up　 [1] It’s male ,it’s female, who is it? I am me.　 The person I love and the person I hate are both me I’m about to die, so I guess now’s the time to shine so bright that I could never disappear Cracking open the night

Dance, dance, dance, dance, dance, dance Dance, dance, dance, dance, dance, dance Dance, danc Stance

An epic tale goes on too long, a Trojan horse, bumbling drone [1] Look into my, my, my ,my eyes, and see the hungry demons running wild, please

Immediately make everything around you into a masterpiece Picture perfect is all in my eyeballs, they’re degenerating so yank them out and throw them away And yet the very moment after that you’ll still stare Two years left to live, my visa ran out. If I'm not my songs, I'm nothing I can't get enter into your borders I spend all of my birthdays As if they’re independence day. I want to be able to comprehend history and culture, and the fireworks they shot into the sky on the night of the revolution It’s disgusting to say sorry for not understanding you I’m glad that I kept on living, cuz this really hurts Storming the city with a blitz of love  [2]

Dance, dance, dance, dance, dance, dance Dance, dance, dance, dance, dance, dance Dance danc Stance

I’m in a relationship, my family is kind and only annoying sometimes, and I have friends I have money, I upgraded my car and my house with a loan, but even if in my old age my pension rains down from the heavens I’d rather die now, at a time when I must always be able to feel my heart pounding in my chest Although I should have tied up all those loose ends first Thinking practically, this is all just so cold I want to be satisfied by normalcy, I want to see what it’s like to want to be happy You can get super popular by being full of emptiness I know that I’m stupid, but I want to hurt something, I want to love I want to jump off a roof, I want to destroy, I want to do all these things even if you feel the same I want to be beat up without sympathizing with the other person I want to fist fight There’s no way I can do all these things [3]

S.O.S.F　A.D.H.D　 S.O.S.F　 S.O.S.F　A.D.H.D　 S.O.S.F

Tacky, machiavellian,   Traumerei Return me me me me with my time machine back to when you exist  

The value of living and the reason for dying Are more than just myself [3]

NOTES

The title is a combination of the acronym SOS (used the same as in English, were it refers to a state of emergency) and SF, which is used to refer to science fiction in Japanese. In this interview she explains (rough translation): "through music you can create an outer space realm within yourself, where time flows differently and you can meet people you otherwise couldn't meet, etc...and that if your mental health is at such a point that you can create that world, you're probably constantly in a state of emergency"

(I believe I also read somewhere that the SO also refers to Seiko Oomori?)

[1] In the Japanese all these words share syllables/sound similar. In English, they do not.

[2] The word she uses here is rarely used in everyday speech, it's kind of rough yakuza language

[3] these are all the spoken word parts

[malevolentbooks]

The View From Below - 2

In every town there is a place where the road ends.  Look behind everything that matters and every place hidden from anywhere anybody would want to go and you’ll find it.  At the end of that road there will inevitably be a bar.  The Bar’s sign will be broken, or faded, or just missing.  You can’t ask for it by name.  You just have to wind up there and realize you’ve gone as far as you can, and it’s time to stop.

More years ago than I like to count, but probably fewer than the fingers on one hand, I stumbled in here for lack of anywhere else to go.  I was hungry and sober, but I took the stage, told a few jokes that went over well, and they fixed both of those problems for me.  If you’ve ever heard any of my comedy act, you can probably guess the kind of place this is, and who would be inside it.

I had some good times there, but eventually I found the way out.  I’m told me that happens every now and then, but only once, and I had better take it.  So I did.

But sometimes a letter will catch up to me from the owner of The Bar.  The letter might be written on a stained napkin, and be inside an envelope made from a greasy fish-and-chips bag.  It will lack any rational way to find me, written to the wrong address and lacking even the traces of a good lie that postage was ever attached to it. But arrive it will.

“Hey Susuni, our ballet dancers cancelled for this weekend.  Do you think you can come by and add some culture to the place?  Derrik is playing.”

The answer is almost always yes.  Sometimes I can’t get away from what I’m doing, and there is general agreement that time spent in jail doesn’t count.  All that said, some invitations you just don’t turn down on a whim.

Lest you think too much of me and claim I have any real sense of responsibility, there is not some grand debt at work here.  It’s not that they helped me when I was down so I help them out when they need it.  The bar doesn’t work that way.  Nobody owes anybody anything at The Bar at the end of the road.  Everyone just is and does what they can.

I get paid a bit and am granted my fill of sour beer and fried fish that is way better than it has any right to be, but that’s not what I go back.

I go back to see Derrik.

Derrik might be a hard-lived forty, or he might be a surviving miracle of eighty.  There is no way to tell and I’ll bet even he doesn’t know.  He has that look of somebody that you could see anywhere, know your whole life, and realize later you don’t even know where he’s from.  He has an amazing ability to not look out of place when he’s just taking up space, and to suddenly be the center of attention.

Derrik plays guitar.  He plays it better than anybody I’ve ever heard.  He can coax divine music from strings that have more knots in them than the oldest and most twisted evergreen tree.  He can take a room full of people who have nothing going for them and make them stop and listen as if they spent the last of their tarnished copper coin to be there.

Why have you never heard of Derrik if he’s that good?  Mostly because the other thing that Derrik is good at is drinking himself into a stupor.  Lately he’s had a lot more practice at the latter than the former.  It’s an old and common story that the music in his heart is just not strong enough to overcome the demons in his soul.  His nightly fall is as ordained as the Champion of Pathos from any holy book.  But, like most guitarists, he’ll take the solo when offered.

My job at The Bar, when I make the time to show up, is to fill in the gaps when Derrik steps away to see to his needs, grab a drink, or passes out.  I need to keep the place interested and looking at the stage.  If Derrik sees there is a crowd waiting, he’ll probably play again.  If he doesn’t, I can often bring it back around to him with a joke, or just ask him to save me from my purposeful bombing on stage.

Derrik knows the view from below.  He spends a lot of time there.   Despite that, he can’t resist the music that dwells in his hands, and at points he can bring himself to rise to it and bring others somewhere not…quite so far down.  He never attains it himself though.

Like any system, our arrangement works until it doesn’t.  Not working in this case is when Derrik is in such a drunken stupor that the only motion he can make from the barstool is the insensate, boneless slide to the floor.  I’d like to say I spare him that indignity, but I mostly just spare him the public notice when it happens.

Closing time on such nights are as close as you’ll find to a formal funeral rite for people here.  My humor takes on a hard, dying edge.  The people know the evening is over, know they have nowhere to go, but go they must.  Even places like The Bar only go on so long.  Derrik for his part will sleep on the floor, or behind the bar, as much a part of the place as the stained floorboards on which he sleeps.  The music is out of him, the drink is in him, and in that state he finally finds the peace he is looking for.

Why, you ask, would I tell you of this desperate place?  Why go on about Derrik and his music?  Why inform you of my church?  Because the course of all of our lives are not a straight line, and sometimes the curve dips so low that the only view you may have is from the below.  Sometime you may just find yourself at the end of the road.

If you find yourself there by accident; uncertain where you are but seeing your forward progress has ended here…don’t look for the bar with the broken sign.  Don’t go in.  Don’t try to help.  Nobody there needs a hero.  There is nobody inside who needs saving.  These people are at the bottom, and they are, in as much as they can, enjoying the view from below.

Should you, by a cruel twist of fate, find your way there naturally and discover that not only can you not go forward but that you can’t go back either, then come inside.  Order a drink.  Listen to Derrik play for a while.  I’ll tell you a joke until the music starts again or until the dawn breaks.

Eventually, in the deepest, loneliest darkness that happens just as the sun rises, you can move on.  The only path away from the bar leads up.  If you can’t find that, Derrik and I will be here to entertain you the next time until you do, or until you find the floorboards as comfortable as we do.

[bookofchaos]

I Honored the Season change super late

And I want to chat about the shaming that can occur (whether purposely or accidentally) within the pagan/spiritual sphere.

No particular event spurred this on, by the way.

It's just a general sentiment I've seen as I've lived my life as a pagan throughout the 00s, 10s, and now moving into the 20s.

There's this prevailing mindset that one has to perform a ritual or spell within like 3 days or something (sometimes a week) of the shift of a season or during a major moon phase or else one cannot work with those energies...

And I think that's real horse shit.

I think some of the shaming sentiment does more often occur with those who connect more heavily with the Wheel of the Year or are on a more reconstructionist/revivalist path. However, it doesn't just linger in these communities. As many of us know, if one thing happens in one part of the pagan sphere, it often leaks into another. The advent of the internet, YouTube, and now TikTok very much spread certain sentiments quite quickly now a days.

This is not to demonize anyone by the way. Getting passionate about our craft is part of the love right? We want our craft to be good, to work for us and the entities we connect with.

But I think shifting how we as a collective think about energy and energy manipulation especially during large events such as a season changing can firstly help in relieving some of the pressure that often times is introduced new pagans/animists/spiritualists as they begin this path. Secondly, as I've progressed down my path, I've found that the weight of having to do said ritual during certain major events can be (especially with the way life likes throw curve balls) unrealistic in expectations. I say this because as someone who has been practicing their craft for just over 10 years, I know I shame myself for not having everything perfect.

I guess what I'm trying to say is that that perfectionism goblin never goes away. And sometimes everyone at any level of their practice needs a reminder that a perfect craft doesn't exist.

There are even times when doing a spell or ritual perfectly is actually the wrong move. We get so wrapped up in our egos that it's not about the act anymore. It's about what we imagine the act should be.

We should all over ourselves...

Stawp it!

I'd also like to examine this idea from a more historical perspective too.

The seasons weren't dictated by something as rigid as our calendar.

People took into consideration the changing of the seasons as weather patterns changed, leaves fell and grew on trees, astrological shifts were followed, moon cycles observed, animal migrations, and I'm sure many other things went into determining major energetic shifts. So autumn didn't fall on the same day every year. (Yes, I did make that pun. What are ya gonna do about it, huh?)

Energy isn't created or destroyed. It shifts. However that doesn't mean the energy of Spring is no longer accessible in Winter at least in my UPG. It may have more obstacles than if you were to connect with that energy during its designated time frame (something that is also made up and determined often by culture).

But an obstacle is not the same as the energy not being accessible.

And that's what I'm getting at. If you cannot celebrate Mabon within that arbitrary 1 week some pagans tout, you can still celebrate 3 weeks in. You can celebrate it mid spring.

Another thing to think about is that the other side of the hemisphere may be experiencing the energy you are looking to connect with. If so, work within that paradigm.

Finally, there are people who build platforms entirely off of shaming those who don't know better.

Mostly for views.

You're worth more than a view.

Your practice too.

Blessed whatever energies you need right now 'cause you fucking deserve it.

[chaotic-carnifex]

Hi! So I love the concept of hellpunk, deeply identify with it, and even before I heard of that I’ve been having Thoughts lately on the reclamation of and identification with villainy by marginalized groups. Specifically, the deconstruction of the concepts of “good” and “bad” and how to meaningfully engage with the world in the absence of a definitive right-and-wrong framework. Oh my god I’m using so many big words rn I’m sorry it’s the autism. ANYWAY so!! As the coiner of “hellpunk” I’d love to hear your own Thoughts on like,,,how you redefine that moral framework

Oh shit this is not something I should be trying to answer after midnight hfjfjhcvh this is gonna be so rambly

Honestly I think there's a lot of ways to go abt redefining the whole good & bad thing and that's one of the things that makes it so cool bc different people may take the concept in entirely different directions and there's something beautiful abt that kind of diversity and I can't wait to see what other ppl may do with it

A lot of my thoughts on essentially deconstructing and playing with the way we categorize things as evil and good are still kinda vague and nebulous and hard to grasp so I can't put them into words just yet unfortunately (I'm hoping they'll solidify through engaging with other ppl's takes on the whole thing but hellpunk hasn't gotten that much traction so far, definitely let me know your ideas & thoughts tho please!!)

What I do have words for is gonna seem somewhat disjointed and like snapshots but like

Okay so outwardly there's the aesthetics of evil and the way ppl will mark evil / represent it in a character's physicality / point out physical traits on bad people as if those have any influence on their morals, and there's a lot of very different things there already, from tropes that use disfigurements & scars as visual representations of some kind of inner flaw (red right hand and all that) to linking fat to gluttony & excess to camp / flamboyant cartoon villains to making fun of bigots' looks to rare natural variations like albinism being used to make evil characters more "other" and just so many other examples of morally neutral things being seen/treated as outward signifiers of evil and like yeah some of this is already getting plenty of criticism and being deconstructed a lot but even then it always endures in some way (and there's definitely room to lean into that kind of thing and build an aesthetic on it if one's looks are demonized like that and one wants to)

And then inside there's neurological things like mental illnesses and personality disorders and other neurological differences that are demonized and there is just so much there that I'm getting overwhelmed just thinking abt it. Why is it called the Dark Triad anyway, isn't that stigmatizing? What does it mean if people are demonized for how their brain works? How do we recognize & judge the amount of effort somebody may be e.g. putting into not acting on some harmful compulsion? Some people will say having that compulsion at all makes them evil (wow thoughtcrimes much), some may argue since nothing happens it's morally neutral, some may say the person is good bc they are putting that effort in! Is it bad to think you're superior to others? Is there virtue in having high empathy (cognitive, affective, does the type change the answer?) and is there anything wrong with not having any? Also hey you remember when a study showed that autistic ppl are on average more altruistic than allistic ppl and they tried to spin this into a flaw? Altruism bad, apparently, but only if it's influenced by your neurotype

And also inside there's feelings. Anger is seen as evil but look at the world and tell me how a good person could not be angry at the state of it. Sadness & suffering are painted as noble in Christian belief systems but where is the virtue in hurting? How does your pain make the world better? The demonization of pleasure and of just feeling good abt yourself - wasn't there a story with a man who tells a rabbi he's worried that building an orphanage would cease being a good, moral thing to do if he did it bc it made him feel good abt himself? (And how much do intentions vs outcome matter anyway? The road to hell and all that) And yes of course there's always the whole thing if whether feeling or not feeling something / being capable or incapable of a certain kind of feeling is good or bad or neutral, like is having little emotional reaction to things in general bad? Is there virtue in feeling things strongly? Is being aro bad? What abt being apl? What about being loveless?

If everybody is the hero of their own story, is it the morally right thing to be the villain in certain people's stories? If yes under which circumstances? Ethics are fucking complicated anyway, the Brotherhood of Evil Mutants is supposedly made up of villains, but. Is it? "Magneto was right" is not an uncommon sentiment

Also personality traits, like selfishness is supposed to be bad but what is or isn't selfish? Is this boundary you're setting for your own comfort selfish? If somebody wants their friends to be well bc they are their friends, is that selfish? (Something something Sir Pterry quote abt witches and selfishness, you know the one.) Ambition is often painted as evil. I stopped knowing what I'm typing 20 minutes ago at least. Fuck.

Damn this got long, I hope it's. somewhat coherent? There's probably so many typos in there. Shit. I hope I at least somewhat managed to address you question bc I don't fucking know what I just wrote my brain is dripping from my ears right now ugh

[theveryworstthing]

So over on patreon Trevor asked for my take on the Addams Family and I grew up LOVING the Addams family movies so here we are. Instead of doing a straight up style interpretation, I decided to do a full on design challenge, using the characters as bases to make a black southern gothic Addams au. I actually drew the kids first, using the character bases of Wednesday and Pugsley to create some delightful kiddos I'm calling Sunday and Blanche. I of course then redesigned Gomez and Morticia into Carlisle and Mortesha.

The Addams have a very specific high aristocratic goth aesthetic (they've got a butler and nobody really works among other things) so in this re-imagining I wanted to go with vibes that run a little more middle class/upper middle class.  I thought it would be interesting to think about what would be considered weird and off-putting in an entirely different culture, and how being a big ol' goth is way less controversial than it used to be.

I tried to keep this short (HAHAHAHAHAHA) so I didn't spin off into an essay about villain coded families, black people in the horror genre, and normalcy as it pertains to social survival, but just...bits of that are in these designs and lore. Keep that in mind.

Also I made the kids twins because they've flip flopped in age so much in different media and also twins run in my family (i'm the daughter of one). And let's face it, I'm pulling a lot of their southern gothic traits from living as a southern goth so *shrug*.

10 thousand pounds of lore incoming loooooooooool.

The Parents

From the moment he saw her he knew that there was a 50/50 chance of him either never making it out of that swamp alive or marrying the figure that was creeping out from under the distant willow tree in a black cocktail dress. The third time she found him trussed up in one of her traps, he complimented her rope work and asked if she'd like to go out sometime after his head wound stopped bleeding.

Or while it was still bleeding.

If she was into that.

Some kids and a mysteriously burnt down Piggly Wiggly later, their love is still as strong and inescapable as a bear trap in a sink hole.

Carlisle Guillermo (now Addams through marriage but I wanted to give him two first names for a name since Gomez has two last names) makes a vaguely described living practicing ‘law’ around town. A loophole king, people come to him from miles around with contracts signed in blood, fights over chunks of hair buried in their rivals’ yard, dehydrated primate hands, memories that seemed like dreams until the evidence of their happenings became too real, and other regular Legal Items asking for counsel which he is all too happy to give. For a price. Sometimes that price is a homemade pie and sometimes it’s a million dollars, depends on who you are. Whatever you’re asked to pay it’s worth that price, and if you try to scam him out of work or he just plain doesn’t like you? Well. He knows how to twist a contract better than anything at the crossroads.

And he always gets his due.

He doesn’t just serve the local (living)humans though, there are many things that need proper legal representation in this day and age. You wouldn’t believe how many city councils try to build on sacred burial grounds even after he lets them know that his ghostly clients are totally gonna haunt the FUCK out of the ensuing shitty condos and curse their families for all eternity. At least 50% of his energy goes towards dealing with real estate bullshit.

Carl is an excitable and good natured(?) man who loves his family, cigars, dancing, and his many knife-based hobbies. People find him very charming once they get past the feeling that they’re talking to a sultry gator badly disguising itself as a human. I didn’t put a ton of deep thought into designing him, mostly I wanted to make a middle aged dude who looked like he would have been voted ‘most likely to smooch the literal devil’ in high school. Tbh he probably has, but no demonic ex’s can compare to his lovely wife~

Mortesha Addams(her name was already perfect so I just tweaked it)is a woman of many talents. A self proclaimed homemaker, she prides herself on a greenhouse full of Concerning Foliage, a beautiful wasp apiary, and a coop full of what are probably chickens that she keeps for what are probably eggs. She’s also an avid creator of the outsider art that can be seen around the estate. She has taken on the family business of selling her homemade goods in a little stall by the road just outside the swamp with her mom, and makes pretty good money doing so. A surprising amount of poison gets bought in quaint southern towns.

Speaking of poison, people who come out to the edge of the swamp to buy it are usually carrying a lot of secrets around, and Mortesha knows most of them. It’s not like she pries the truth out of people, it just so happens that many nervous hellos eventually turn into the tragic backstory power hour if she’s alone with a client for long enough. She supposes that’s just how people are. Despite the fact that the Addams are very active in the community (whether the community likes it or not) she especially, as a direct descendant of the first Addams matriarch, is seen as…Well not an outsider because the community feels A Certain Way about outsiders and despite it all the Addams are their people, but maybe something like an exception. They feel like whatever weirdness they’re hiding can’t be weirder than any given Addams, so they get a little loose with their words.

This is amusing to her, since Addams’ don’t naturally keep the kind dramatic secrets that their surface level prim and proper neighbors do. It’s much more fun to openly talk about those things.

Do they have a sadly decrepit yet terrifying grandma up in the attic? Yeah, like three. They got a tv, all the creepy porcelain dolls they could want, and they’re close to family. Where do you keep your gram-grams?

Any bodies buried on the property? Yeah some, but most are thrown to the gators.

Any creeping through the balmy summer night with ill intentions? Yeah dude, everyone loves a nice family stroll.

What about dangerous forbidden love? If an adult Addams isn’t incorporeal then they’re either queer or in a torrid romance with some person/thing mysteriously drawn to that awful swamp. Sometimes both at the same time. Most times actually.

Mortesha would know.

The current head of the Addams family is just as outgoing as her husband but a lot quieter and harder to read. She never really seems to get mad about much and always has a genteel smile for everyone whether they deserve it or not. A seven foot tall human shaped “Oh, bless your heart”. A perfectly composed Lady even when she’s, oh I dunno, burning down a Piggly Wiggly. You know. A regular southern mom. Chat her up at the hair salon for 50% off a jar of wasp honey with your next purchase of a mysterious but foreboding packet of herbs.

Designing her was pretty easy because I just drew a lankier Grace Jones and called it a day. I had some problems with her outfit simply because if we were going HARD southern gothic then she’d probably be wearing a white/cream dress with a fuller skirt but I thought keeping the silhouette and the black was more important. She’s supposed to be an anti southern gothic southern gothic character anyway. A woman who looks like she has a million secrets who is actually the most open person you could meet. For better or worse. The red hair came from a coloring error that I really ended up liking (my mom had red hair her whole childhood that only darkened up in high school so I can buy that an Addams can be naturally fire engine red) and the veil was to get more of that classic Morticia silhouette in there.

The Children

Sunday and Blanche are the twin children of Carlisle and Mortesha Addams. Some say the Addams clan got their cursed homestead when a wealthy local businessman made a deal with the devil and lost, leaving his grand mansion to his least favorite maid and cutting his losses once he realized that the swamp would do everything it could to drag the house into the water and take what was owed with its horrible curse. Others say that the family has just always squatted there and no one really cares because man, fuck that particular swamp. Have you been in there? Absolute horror show.

Anyway.

Blanche is the more outgoing sibling and quite the engineer/mad scientist in the making. He started going grey at 2 weeks old but considering he was also rocking some extra fingers, toes, and a tiny tail (he takes after his dad), his parents just put it on the 'not life threatening' pile and decided not to worry about it. He's the kind of smart that teachers find utterly infuriating, less a dog eagerly learning and obeying commands and more a hyena who keeps teaching itself how to pick locks. He has a few friends in his school's robotics club (which they honestly allowed him to make so the school could contain his... creations) but mostly hangs out with his sister exploring the swamp. They find all sorts of neat things in there! wedding rings, suspiciously lumpy garbage bags, cloaked cultists who can't read private property signs, it's an adventure every day!

Blanche is all about experimentation with his creations, his look, and his tether to this mortal coil. Is lipstick a cool thing to try? Let's find out. Can he get out of a strait jacket fast enough after being pushed into the depths of the swamp by his sister? let's find out. He's not dead yet and confused local doctors can attest to the fact that he's rarely attained more than a bad bruise so he's pretty set on continuing to kiss rattlesnakes on their cute little heads and have his sister practice her knife throwing at him until that fact changes.

Blanche is very much a country goth. Cowboy boots (customized by his mom), knife, and lighter are daily accessories. He likes to wear the crusty swamp jewelry they find (the rust adds a splash of color!) and despite appearances he does try to keep himself neat. He's just got  natural Grunge Colors and a tendency to wear clothes he likes until they fall apart. Pugsley always seemed the most modernly styled to me (which might just be because little boys clothes have been the same for a long time) so I wanted Blanche to be the most purposely fashionable Addams. Everyone else is goth by nature, but he's the only one truly familiar with goth as an alternative fashion.

I got really into designing Blanche because honestly, I find Pugsley to be the most boring member of the family. And he was hard to design! I had to mess with his vibe a lot to get him looking how I wanted. I know he's supposed to evoke an " 'evil' little boy next door who's parents never reign him in", but that's just goth Dennis The Menace.  I's 2020. We can at least go queer goth Calvin.

Sunday was much easier to design. Wednesday was my favorite as a child (of course) and I really wanted to keep the spirit of her look while adding things like billowy sleeves (it gets HOT down here), big poofy twists instead of braids, and a nice tie. She's a professional after all, been running the local pet cemetery since she was 6 and the previous groundskeeper met with an unfortunate accident after telling her that tarantulas don't have souls. Her specialty is creating beautiful naturalistic animal funerals similar to those that Maquenda (https://linktr.ee/artofmaquenda) makes, and she takes pride in creating miniature dioramas of her subjects after each burial which she uses as a kind of 3D catalog for future clients.

She really wants to try out her skills on humans one day. Well. Publicly try out her skills. Lotta random bodies float into the swamp. None of them have turned down her requests for diorama models so far. Most seem downright flattered. Plus, she usually figures out which graveyard/crime scene they floated over from and gets her parents to give them a lift back. She'll even help enact terrifying revenge from beyond the grave on whoever put them there if she's not, y'know, busy.

Besides arts, crafts, and pet based funerary arrangements, Sunday is an avid lover of archery (any ranged weapon really), books where little fantasy adventure animals die dramatic deaths, and history. She is That Kid who eagerly raises her hand when asked who Christopher Columbus was and ends up being sent out of class after 15 minutes for making 'a scene'. Her favorite party trick is just picking an item in the room and talking about how it relates to either some obscure historical figure with a buck wild life or a horrible disaster. At least one charity pancake breakfast ended with children in tears after her vivid description of the Great Molasses Flood of 1919.

Social-wise, while Wednesday is the girl that people ask to smile because they think she'd, "look so pretty", Sunday is rarely asked anything at all. People just kind of assume from her quiet nature (in between horrible history facts) that she's angry all the time and that she hates everyone. This is untrue. She hates some people but she's ambivalent to most everyone else and even downright friendly if you bother to talk to her like a person instead of a terrifying cryptid. Like, she IS a terrifying cryptid but she's also a little girl.  

That’s about it for now. One day I might do the other family members but for now I’m happy with the four I’ve redesigned. Making an au! Lurch in a family that doesn’t do butlers could be interesting. Over on patreon I put forth that he could just be Motesha’s mute little brother (similar bone structure) but Amy Crook had the nice idea of quote: “ a mysterious "cousin" that "helps around the house" whose origins are both long in the past and faintly unsettling. He's good for lifting heavy things, like that tank of propane you're about to throw into the burning Piggly Wiggly... “ which i now consider canon. Who's kid is he? How old is he? Not important. Anyone willing to commit arson with you is family.

Annnnyway.  This challenge was a lot of fun! I love indulging in AU’s.

[ladyartemesia]

All I Want For Christmas is You

Pairing: Kim Taehyung x Female Reader

Summary: When Park Jimin is unable to escort his precious sister through the gauntlet of corporate holiday galas, he blackmails his best friend Taehyung into being her chaperone. After all, who better to safeguard his headstrong sibling than a man who would never want her for himself? (She and Tae have spent the better part of a decade mutually disliking each other, and that’s putting it mildly.) Yet, even the best laid plans may go awry at Christmas and Kim Taehyung is about to discover that the girl he never wanted has become a temptation he cannot resist...

Genre: Comedy • Fluff  • Smut

Tropes: Brother’s Best Friend (Reader is Jimin’s Sister) • Enemies-to-Lovers

Collab: This work is part of the Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tropes Collab featuring original holiday themed works by @ppersonna • @xjoonchildx  • @underthejoon • @yeojaa​ • @untaemedqueen • and @snackhobi

Word Count: 17K (I know—I am shocked too honestly)

Rating: Explicit (18+)

Warnings: suggestive photographs • mention of accidentally being hit with a baseball • hints of jealousy and possessiveness • light tit slapping • explicit sexual content • m/f oral sex • consensual unprotected sex (shield it before you yield it y’all) • Viola’s mirror kink makes yet another appearance •

Acknowledgements:

To @ppersonna​ (Lindy) @underthejoon​ (Fal) and @xjoonchildx​ (Ana) you guys are my heart. Your support, willingness to read (and re-read) and give honest feedback made this fic special. Your friendship is my daily dose of awesome. Truly, I love you.

To @untaemedqueen​ (D) all of the above applies to you, but I owe you a little something extra for the LITERAL HOURS you spent in the doc with me. This fic would not be here without you. You kept me moving. You inspired me. You were amazing. Thank you so very much. This story is lovingly dedicated to you. 

To @hobi-gif​ for being the most thorough and incredible beta reader and for having all the important girl chats with me. I think you learned more about my past than you wanted... Either way you made this story better and I am profoundly grateful for the hours of time you spent. I have removed all the Hope-No-No words in your honor. 

To @lemonjoonah​ as always, you knew EXACTLY what I needed to tweak to make this story work. (Gotta pass that Lemon Litmus Test or no dice lol.) My lovely soul twin. You’re a bloomin’ rockstar. 

Please Picture This Taehyung:

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No. Absolutely not.”

“Yes. Because you absolutely owe me.”

“Then send me a bill, not your unmanageable harpy of a sister.”

Jimin raised a single unimpressed brow. 

“Kim Taehyung. It was exactly five years ago today that I carried your drunken naked ass two miles in the rain after you set your clothes on fire and sprained your ankle at that Beta Phi party.” He paused dramatically. “Do you remember what you said to me that night? After I deleted several pictures off phones and paid off half the party to keep it out of the papers?”

The man in question shifted uncomfortably.

“That incident is a bit hazy in my memory. I’m not sure I recall—”

“Jiminie—you’re the best and I—I owe… you. I owe you the most, Jiminie. I do—I owe you a favor—one BIG favor—anything you ask… Even though... I actually like being naked. I don’t think we need clothes. We should all be naked. Everyone. Then there would be world peace.”

Taehyung’s jaw dropped. 

“You RECORDED IT?!”

Jimin grinned, sliding his phone back into his pocket.

“Naturally. And I had it all ready to go—just in case you needed extra convincing.” He crossed his arms and fixed his best friend of nearly fifteen years with a triumphant smirk. “I’m calling in that favor today, Taehyung. Now are you a man of your word or not?”

“He did WHAT?!”

Your mother winced. 

“Jimin was... uncomfortable leaving you alone for the holiday season. He normally accompanies you to the galas but this year—”

“This year I was going to go alone and finally build my reputation as an asset to this family!”

Park Soomin sighed as she watched her daughter pace fiercely around the living room of their luxury suite. 

“No one doubts that you’re an asset, but… in light of recent events...”

Rage and embarrassment flared up in your chest before you could stop them. 

“This is about Milo… isn’t it?”

The silence that greeted your statement was confirmation enough. 

“Are you ever going to trust me again?” you whispered. 

“Oh sweetheart... it isn’t you we don’t trust...”

Tears burned at the corner of your eyes, but you ruthlessly blinked them back. 

You would play along with their humiliating schemes. 

For now.

“So which one of Jimin’s Ivy League brat pack did he blackmail into babysitting me? 

For the first time in the entirety of the conversation, your mother looked truly nervous. 

“Kim Taehyung.”

You tripped over your own feet and face-planted into the sofa. 

“Jungkook, I need to look into faking my own death. Nothing too over the top. Just a tasteful disappearance—”

The man in question could barely restrain his grin. 

“You don’t pay me nearly enough to deal with your mother in the event of your tragic demise and miraculous resurrection.”

“I could pay you more.”

“Or,” Jungkook replied with a heavy dose of judgment coloring his tone, “you could put on this ridiculous tie and stop trying to weasel out of it.”

“Sometimes I wonder why I pay you at all,” Taehyung growled, yanking the tie from the younger man’s grasp. “Clearly I’m not the one in charge.”

“Your words, sir, not mine. Now shall we go over the details and itinerary?”

If Jeon Jungkook wasn’t the best executive aide in the city (and one of his closest friends) Tae would have drop-kicked him right then and there.

“Could you at least try to look like you’re not enjoying this?”

“I’m sorry, sir. It was insensitive of me to ignore your suffering in this delicate time. The trauma of escorting a beautiful woman to a series of glorified buffets weighs heavily upon you.”

Taehyung tightened the tie so aggressively, he almost strangled himself.

“Beautiful woman?!” he wheezed. “We’re talking about the girl who showed up to our formal graduation party looking like she just escaped from Azkaban.”

Jungkook bit the inside of his cheek thoughtfully. 

“Tae… how long has it been since you’ve actually seen Ms. Park?” 

“Seen? Maybe three—four years.”

The heir-apparent of Kim Holdings avoided the public end of corporate culture like the plague, preferring to leave the requisite schmoozing to his personable cousin, Kim Seokjin. 

However, he had crossed paths with his adolescent nemesis in... other ways. 

Taehyung was romancing a lovely young socialite who suddenly ghosted him after someone told her that he wanted at least eight naturally-birthed children. 

Soon after, your favorite charity received an anonymous 30,000 dollar donation requesting that you be featured in the dunk tank for an upcoming benefit carnival and then the same anonymous patron paid for at least fifteen little league teams to attend. 

In retaliation, someone petitioned the National Aviary Society (chaired by a very influential senator’s wife that no one ever refused if they wanted their permits to go through) to make Taehyung the MC at their annual awards ceremony—knowing full well he was allergic to birds (not dangerously allergic—just enough to be miserable).  

Taehyung had sniffled and sneezed through approximately one hundred parrots, parakeets, and other assorted fowl until he was ready to commit murder. 

The last several years had been littered with similar incidents of the two of you taking thinly veiled potshots at one another. 

“I can’t imagine she’s changed very much,” Taehyung bit off absently. His mind was abruptly consumed by how he could get revenge for those demonic birds. 

He didn’t notice the smile creeping over Jungkook’s face. 

“No, sir. I’m sure she hasn’t changed at all.”

Taehyung had only ever had the wind knocked out of him once before. 

He was Dionysia High School’s star pitcher for three seasons and during one particularly tense game against JY Prep, Lim Jaebeom whacked a line drive right into his solar plexus. 

That’s how it felt to look up and see you at the top of the stairs. 

In his head, you were still the mischievous imp from his childhood. Every prank he played was directed at the fierce little fiend with braids and braces who’d knocked him and his date into the university fountain while experimenting with her friend’s skateboard. 

But she was gone… and in her place was something far more dangerous. 

A woman. 

Silken fabric wrapped tightly over curves you definitely didn’t have four years ago. That wild hair had been tamed into shining waves and pinned elegantly at the nape of your neck. The wicked slit that traveled all the way up your thigh teased a smooth shapely leg that all but demanded the viewer fantasize about running their hand up the length of it. 

Suddenly it was very clear why Park Jimin wouldn’t let his sister venture into the corporate cesspool alone. 

Because the sight of you could make a man desperate. 

Betrayal—of all things—slowly crept over Taehyung as you descended toward him like some sort of angel floating down from the heavens. 

His mind went blank. Just watching the seductive shift of your hips as you swayed ever closer felt like a violation of his friendship with Jimin. He could feel the judgmental stares of an imaginary Bro-Code Council boring into him from on high. 

“I see you’ve recovered from your memorable tenure as the Aviary Society’s Master of Ceremonies.”

And just like that the brat was back. 

Taehyung breathed a hefty sigh of relief, secretly thrilled to be in familiar territory with you. 

“Naturally I was delighted to help Senator Mitchell’s wife. In fact, Mitchell’s office just fast tracked all my pending permit requests for the new year.” He tilted forward, coming into your space a bit. “I should really send you a thank you card.” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you scowled, breezing past him like an indignant queen. 

Tae could practically see the steam pouring out of your ears. 

“Of course not,” he chuckled.

The first gala of the holiday season was an extravagant annual affair hosted by Min Corp., a Seoul based investment firm that commanded billions in assets. This year, the theme of the event was the Joseon Dynasty and the entire ballroom had been gloriously transformed into a stunning celebration of the Min family’s royal heritage. 

Attendees were gifted their own traditional fan, each uniquely crafted by artisans from Damyang. Taehyung’s was all black with bold silver calligraphy while yours was a beautiful bamboo and silk piece decorated with pomegranate trees. 

You had already whacked three people with it by the time dinner was served. 

“It really is a pity these fell out of fashion,” you lamented. “They’re quite useful.”

“You are deranged,” Taehyung mumbled, massaging his temples in exasperation. 

“Nonsense. I only fanned those who deserved it.”

“Harkins?”

“He was staring at my rack for a solid minute.”

Taehyung could hardly blame the man, it was a battle he himself was losing after all, but Harkins was twice your age and married—therefore his ogling was in especially poor taste. 

“Okay... What about Kang?” 

“He was verbally abusing one of the waitstaff.” 

“Alright, fair enough, but why on earth would you go after sweet old Mrs. O’Malley?”

“She was about to grab your ass.”

Taehyung’s mouth dropped open.

“She’s eighty-five!”

“And still kickin’ apparently.” You shook your head in disgust. “As if I’d whack an eighty-five year-old woman for anything less than non-consensual touching.”

“I- I- mean—surely you must be mistaken,” he coughed. 

“Oh, there’s no mistake. That nasty old crone is a serial offender. She likes to play it off as dementia, but she’s as sharp as a tack. Last year she got a whole handful of Jimin. Honestly, I’d call the police on her, but the commissioner is her grandson so I doubt I’d get very far.”

Taehyung turned to the woman in question just in time to see her totter lecherously toward Jung Hoseok, fingers already twitching in anticipation. 

“Is nothing sacred?” he mused hollowly. 

You shrugged. 

“Many people who accumulate as much as our families have start believing that they are entitled to whatever strikes their fancy.” Your eyes met his with a hint of bemusement. “Surely you should be used to this sort of thing by now?”

“Yes, but I was hardly expecting it from little old ladies!”

The remainder of dinner was a terse affair where you pretended he didn’t exist for the entire meal and he in turn pretended that the spunky young heiress seated to his right was the most darling creature to ever walk the earth. By dessert she was ready to get married and you were ready to vomit. 

Afterward, Taehyung found himself quickly converted to your views on fan usefulness as you began strolling through the crowd intent on strengthening your family’s corporate ties. 

“Kim Taehyung,” you ground out through clenched teeth, “how am I supposed to do business if you keep stabbing everyone I speak to!”

“I don’t know what you’re implying. I’m simply not used to carrying one of these. I may have accidentally grazed a few overzealous individuals—”

“My last three conversations have been rudely disrupted by the blunt end of that accused fan.”

Taehyung crossed his arms smugly. 

“And what of it? Jimin sent me along to keep an eye on you and the gentlemen in question were hardly behaving themselves. No one has to put their hand in my back or lean that close to me when they’re talking business.” 

“That’s because no one wants to get that close to you,” you replied sweetly. “You’re gross.” 

A devastating grin slid slowly over his features as he leaned forward to whisper in your ear. 

“I can think of several women who might disagree.”

He just barely caught the hitch in your breath before- 

“Like who? Miss Blushes-and-Giggles from dinner?”

“Jealous?” Taehyung drawled cockily. 

“Only in your dreams, Kim.” Then, with a deliberate flick of your fan, you turned your back to him. “I’m headed for the ladies room. Do yourself a favor and don’t follow me in.”

It was twenty minutes before Taehyung realized that you slipped out the back entrance of the restroom. 

It took another ten for him to locate you on the balcony flirting outrageously with Min Yoongi. 

The young heir of Min Corp. was just leaning closer to whisper sweet nothings in your ear when a black fan slid right in between the two of you. 

“Lovely weather we’re having,” Taehyung observed cheerfully. His eyes bounced between you and Yoongi with barely concealed fury and you let out a miserable groan. 

“Mr. Kim,” Yoongi cleared his throat significantly. “What an… unexpected surprise.”

Frustration clawed at your chest as your overbearing guardian nodded smugly in response. 

It was time to teach him—and Jimin—a lesson. 

“Yoongi,” you sighed, sliding your hand pointedly through the crook of his arm, “I’m not feeling at all well. Would you perhaps… escort me home?”

Taehyung suddenly looked as if he’d swallowed a live octopus. 

Yoongi grinned, clearly thrilled with the prospect of simultaneously spending more time with you and irritating Taehyung. 

“It would be my pleasure.”

“Jimin is gonna kill me,” Taehyung grumbled as he watched Min Yoongi help you into the passenger seat of his Aston Martin. 

An ugly green feeling he refused to identify twisted sharply in his gut when you smiled coyly at the other man. 

“This is ridiculous,” he snarled to no one in particular before yanking his phone out of his pocket. 

Jungkook picked up on the second ring. 

“Sir?”

“I need you to drive to Ms. Park’s apartment and tell me if she goes in alone or if Min Yoongi goes in with her.”

“You want me to what?!” 

“Just do it!” he snapped, downing an entire glass of champagne before signaling his own driver. 

Fifteen minutes later his phone vibrated from the car seat next to him. 

1 New Message from: Jungkook

Her building has four separate entrances. Which one do I watch? 

Taehyung could practically feel the vein pulsing in his forehead as he scrolled through his contacts. 

You picked up on the fourth ring. 

“Hello?”

“Where are you?”

“Oh it’s you… Wait—how did you get this number?”

“Jimin. Obviously. Now please answer the question.”

“Oh a ‘please.’ Who knew you had manners?”

“Answer the question, Park. I’m tired.”

The distinct sound of a zipper unzipping carried through the speaker. 

“I’m at home, of course. Where else would I be? I just got here like a minute ago.”

He had a sudden vision of Min Yoongi helping you out of your dress. His grip on the phone tightened. 

“Are you alone?”

You snorted. 

“I don’t see how that is any of your business.”

Taehyung saw red. 

“I’m coming over.”

There was a loud crash and several colorful words in at least three different languages. 

“Wha- No! I’m trying to go to bed!”

“With who?!”

“With myself, you idiot!”

“Prove it!”

“Fine! I will!”

The line disconnected and Taehyung swore loudly. He was just about to direct the driver to your building when his phone went off again. 

1 New Message from: Park Gremlin 

He almost choked on his tongue. 

You were clearly in the middle of undressing and—in your irritation—probably hadn’t looked too carefully at the picture you sent.  

At first glance it was simply a shot of your empty room (presumably “proof” that you were alone) but you neglected to consider the floor-length mirror hanging in the far corner…

A mirror that showed you angrily holding up your phone with your gown pooled deliciously around your waist and the soft round swells of your breasts strapped into lacy red lingerie. 

You were exquisite. 

A fierce, hot sensation gripped him ruthlessly, and this time there was no mistaking it. 

Desire. 

Your phone lit up on the bed where you tossed it after snapping a photo for your tightly-wound man nanny. 

1 New Message from: Kim Grinch 

I didn’t know you liked Van Gogh. 

Your head tilted in confusion. 

There was a Van Gogh print in your room, but he couldn’t have seen it because it was behind you when-

Oh NO.

You gasped, scrolling back up to confirm what deep down you already knew to be true. 

… You just sent Kim Taehyung a topless mirror selfie. 

Several miles away, smiling smugly in the backseat of his town car, Taehyung was sure he could almost hear you screaming. 

“Good morning, sir. Which would you like first; the bad news or the worse news?”

Taehyung groaned from underneath his covers. 

“Don’t you ever knock? I could have a woman up here.”

“You’ve never brought a woman up here.”

“Is that the bad news?” Taehyung yawned. 

“No,” Jungkook tossed a small stack of newspapers and printed digital articles into his lap, “this is the bad news.”

Pictures of you, Min Yoongi, and even himself were splashed over the front pages of all of them. 

PARK ANGEL TRADES ONE CORPORATE HEIR FOR ANOTHER AT MIN GALA

WHO WILL WIN THE PARK ANGEL’S HEART? KIM TAEHYUNG OR MIN YOONGI? LET US KNOW IN THE COMMENTS

NEW ROMANCE ALERT? PARK ANGEL LEAVES JOSEON BALL WITH MIN SCION 

“The Park Angel?” 

“That’s what the media calls her... The public is rather fascinated with her actually.”

“Can’t imagine why,” Taehyung mumbled. 

“Of course not, sir. It’s a great mystery.”

As usual, Taehyung chose to ignore his aide’s lethal snark and pressed on to the matter at hand. 

“This is a flaming disaster.”

“Oh I don’t know. I really appreciated the picture of you staring on forlornly while she and Yoongi climbed into the Aston Martin. Takes a real gift to capture all that drama in a single frame.”

“Which one was that?!” 

“It’s right under the MAN DOWN: PARK ANGEL LEAVES KIM TAEHYUNG HEARTBROKEN headline.”

Tae ran his hand down over his face in exasperation. 

“I’m surprised my mother hasn’t called.”

“She has. Twice.”

“I don’t suppose that’s the ‘worse news’ is it?”

“No.”

“Of course it isn’t. I’m never that lucky.” He collapsed backwards into his pillows with a beleaguered huff. “Go ahead then. Tell me.”

“Park Jimin is on the line for you right now.”

After a small eternity on the phone with Jimin (assuring him that NO Min Yoongi had not despoiled his precious sister and YES he would definitely do better next time), Taehyung was forced to attend an impromptu brunch with his mother. It took considerable effort, but he was eventually able to convince her that you were neither breaking his heart nor expecting his child. 

By the time he arrived to collect you for this evening’s event, Taehyung was already sick of hearing your name (he’d spoken it no less than three hundred times since Jungkook woke him this morning).

You were in much the same boat as Taehyung, having spent most of the afternoon pacifying Jimin and clearing up your own mother’s romantic delusions regarding the Min and Kim heirs respectively. 

Tonight’s gala was a Victorian Christmas Ball thrown by the National Literary Fund and the entire venue had been transformed into a Charles Dickens fever dream. 

Unlike the Min Gala (whose theme was guarded like a state secret every year) the Literary Fund’s tribute to A Christmas Carol was tradition and you were dressed accordingly in a custom corset gown with gorgeous detailing. 

Every second of effort it took to lace yourself into the monstrosity was worth the look on Taehyung’s face the moment you slipped off your cape. 

“Something wrong, Mr. Kim?”

Taehyung was desperately trying to look literally anywhere but your chest, where said corset was serving up your breasts like a debauched buffet. 

Jimin. Think of Jimin. Think of what Jimin will do to you. Think of how much trouble she’s caused-

He peeked again.

I would pay a million dollars to suck those tits. 

“Nothing at all,” his voice cracked. 

The itinerary for the evening included performances by a local children’s choir, a traditional waltz, and—of course—dinner.

You both managed to get along without snapping at each other during the choral performance, but as two of the largest donors to the Children’s Literacy Initiative, neither of you could escape being drawn into the waltz. 

The energetic socialite who Taehyung flirted with over dinner the previous night eventually lured him onto the floor while you graciously accepted an invitation from a lovely older gentleman who chaired the Fund’s event committee. 

For the first few movements, you were thoroughly enjoying yourself. Mr. Lee was charming, respectful, and still an excellent dancer despite his advanced age. It wasn’t until a familiar sound caught your attention that the lightness in your chest suddenly felt heavy...

Taehyung was laughing. 

You heard him do so many times over the years, and in each instance, the carefree magic of it never failed to make your heart flutter. 

But now he was smiling down at the pretty little heiress and laughing for her… and the flutter in your chest was accompanied by something else. 

Something that felt an awful lot like longing. 

“Does he know you look at him like that?” Mr. Lee asked quietly. 

Your eyes flew guiltily to his, but it was too late. The old man had caught a glimpse of the secret you buried deeply for more than a decade; so deeply, in fact, there were times you almost forgot it yourself...

Almost. 

“No,” you whispered, “he has no idea.” 

Disaster struck at dinner. 

Taehyung quite liked dancing with the lovely Miss Something-or-Other. She was sweet and funny and (unlike with you) he wasn’t constantly torn between agitation and raging inappropriate lust in her presence. 

The cold shoulder you offered him when he took his seat seemed even more frigid than usual and he spent half the meal wondering what he’d done to earn your amplified disdain when suddenly—

Your hand smacked down on his wrist, seizing it in a vise-like grip. 

Taehyung nearly choked on his steak and was about to give you a searing set-down over your spontaneous grabby-ness when he noticed your expression. 

“What’s wrong?” he whispered, leaning forward in concern. 

“I-I need—” 

It looked as if you were in some sort of physical pain and Taehyung was rapidly becoming worried. 

“I need your help,” you finally managed to whimper and the next thing he knew, you were dragging him away from the table and into one of the secluded alcoves near the main entrance hall. 

“Is there anyone around? Can anyone see us?” The look on your face bordered on unhinged. 

“No. There’s no one. Park, are you okay? What’s going on I—”

“I need you to unlace my dress,” you hissed frantically. 

At that moment, a bomb could have gone off and Taehyung wouldn’t have blinked. 

You, however, were completely preoccupied with your own distress and therefore oblivious to his. 

“My earring broke during dinner and fell down there and now it’s stabbing me—”

Your eyes were beginning to tear. Taehyung remained frozen, still trying to figure out whether or not this was a lucid dream. 

“—it’s definitely pierced the skin and there’s a possibility I’m gonna start bleeding through the fabric—”

The mention of blood snapped him out of his daze somewhat. 

“A-Alright. Just turn around—brace yourself on that wall.”

You quickly did as you were told and Taehyung began to tug fruitlessly at the ties cross-crossing your back.

“Why won’t this—”

His fingers fumbled over the knots, desperately trying to loosen them, but they simply wouldn’t budge. 

“I can’t—I can’t get it. Whoever helped you into this thing made sure you weren’t getting out of it.” 

You whined in frustration and the earring shifted a bit in response. 

There was only one other way to fix this (and you would almost rather be in pain). 

“Taehyung I—” you turned to face him again, forcing your eyes shut before reluctantly doing what had to be done “... I need you to reach down the front of my dress and get it.”

He blinked. Twice. 

“I’m sorry—What did you just—”

“Please, Tae,” you whispered desperately, letting your lip tremble in a way he had never been able to resist, “it hurts…”

He gulped. 

His eyes dropped to the matter at hand.

This is fine. Everything’s fine. She’s in pain, right? You’re basically a doctor right now. You’re just going slide your hand in between the most mouthwatering pair of breasts you’ve ever seen and then—

Taehyung’s manic inner monologue was interrupted by the sound of his own moan. He immediately faked a coughing fit to cover it and prayed you hadn’t noticed. 

(You hadn’t. You were actively being stabbed.) 

“I can’t believe I’m actually doing this,” he muttered, curling his fingers over the scalloped edge of the bodice. 

You bit your lip, desperately trying to hold back any reaction, but when his knuckle brushed the pebbled tip of your nipple, you gasped. 

Oh.

His hand stuttered, lingering a moment too long over the tight little peak as his gaze suddenly shot up to meet yours. Both of you had been studiously avoiding eye contact, yet now it was as if neither of you could look away. 

Taehyung wet his lips reflexively. 

“It’s too tight,” he whispered, “I need more leverage.” 

Then his arm wrapped over the curve of your lower back and he drew you tightly against him, anchoring your hips just enough to fully slip his hand between your body and the corset. 

You were so warm.

So soft...

“I can feel it,” he grunted, “but I can’t get a good grip on it.” 

His mouth pressed into a tight line as he leaned forward, bringing your back up against the wall. You let out a little squeak and his eyes darted briefly down to your mouth before he spoke again. 

“Hold on to me.”  

You nodded and wordlessly slid your arms around his waist.

If you concentrated hard enough, you could almost pretend that this wasn’t one of the most erotic moments of your life. 

You could almost pretend that it meant nothing. 

Your mind was spinning wildly, wondering what he was thinking, wondering if he noticed how strangely you were breathing or how hard your heart was beating...

“I’ve got it,” he murmured. Shivers shot down your spine at the dark timbre of his voice. 

He was so close. You could feel every word he spoke brushing softly against your skin. 

“On ‘three’ I’m going to pull it out… Are you ready?”

You drew in a final steadying breath. 

“Do it.”

He nodded. 

“One… Two… Three—”

Taehyung yanked his hand back and several things happened at once. 

Your breasts bounced almost entirely out of the corset. 

The decorative clasps on the front of your gown tangled with the buttons on his shirt and when he pulled back, three of them went flying off like stray bullets. 

And finally, the corset didn’t relinquish Taehyung’s hand quite quickly enough and, as a result, you toppled forward and crashed down on top of him, smashing your newly bare breasts to his newly bare chest. 

It could have been ten seconds or ten hours that passed by while the two of you lay there, breathing heavily in a pile of confused arousal when—

“... Is… everything alright here?”

You both looked up to find a thoroughly scandalized member of the waitstaff standing over you. 

Taehyung saw his life flash before his eyes—ending (of course) with Jimin murdering him for this. 

He gulped again. 

“I can explain.” 

It was decided—for the sake of appearances—that you would both leave the venue (immediately) in separate vehicles. 

Taehyung dropped a cool three hundred in crisp bills on the unfortunate waiter in order to help him ‘forget’ whatever he may or may not have seen. 

Neither of you spoke another word to each other in the ten minutes it took to bribe all the appropriate parties, gather your coats, and call for two separate town cars. 

Something had happened when he touched you; a subtle shift in the precarious balance of your relationship that you both felt keenly, but could not possibly begin to define. 

Taehyung barely even remembered climbing into the back of a vehicle. His body was firing on auto-pilot after the sensory overload of the last half hour. It wasn’t until he was nearly home that he realized he was still holding onto your earring. 

His mind began to wander as he examined the troublesome bauble in his palm. It was a striking piece; deceptively complex and unexpectedly beautiful. 

Just like you.

He told himself that the heat pooling low in his belly was anger—that the strange anxiousness to be near you was simply a desire for retribution—that it was merely platonic curiosity that left his hands aching to explore the rest of your curves. 

Lies.

… and pitifully transparent ones at that. 

Still, he clung to them desperately out of self-preservation. 

The gentle hum of his phone suddenly disturbed Taehyung’s silent contemplation. 

1 New Message from: Park Gremlin 

I made it home safely. 

Taehyung’s fingers were typing a reply before he could properly consider the consequence of his actions. 

To: Park Gremlin

I require proof… like last time. 

He nearly threw the phone the moment he sent it, running his hands down over his face in disbelief. 

You’re playing with fire, Kim Taehyung. 

And he was burning up already. He had no business sending you texts like that. Maybe you wouldn’t catch it. Maybe he could just-

The phone went off again and it was embarrassing how quickly he scrambled to open your response. 

His heart stuttered in his chest. His breathing ceased entirely-

And he knew—he knew—there was no coming back from this.

At first glance the photo was nearly identical to the shot you sent him last night. Same room, same angle… 

same mirror.

Yet this time, the reflection was quite different. 

The temptress in the glass wore nothing but that sinfully delicious corset and a pair of silky lace thigh highs, each accented with a green satin bow. 

He wanted to rip them off with his teeth. 

 “Oh Taehyung,” he whispered, as a dark wave primitive longing tore through him, “you are in so much trouble.”

Across town (buried beneath a pile of blankets) you were still struggling to process the boldness of your own actions when his response lit up your screen. 

1 New Message from: Kim Grinch

Green is my favorite color. 

“WHERE IS HE—”

Taehyung awoke to a series of crashes and shouts echoing from the floor below him. 

Jungkook was already seated in the corner of the room reading a newspaper. 

“Good morning, sir,” he said without looking up. “Would you like the bad news or the worse news?”

Suddenly the french doors of his bedroom slammed open and one very irate Park Jimin stormed through. 

“I swear I should have seen this coming. The two of you have always been obsessed with each other, but I never imagined—”

Taehyung’s eyes widened guiltily. He quickly schooled his features into a confused glare. 

“Jimin, I’ve only been awake for fifteen seconds. What the hell are you talking about?!”

Another stack of newspapers hit his lap and this time the pictures were mostly of him with his shirt ripped halfway down his chest. 

KIM HEIR AND PARK ANGEL CAUSE AN OLD-FASHIONED SCANDAL AT VICTORIAN BALL

FORGET MISTLETOE: KIM TAEHYUNG DISCOVERED UNDER THE PARK ANGEL AT CHRISTMAS CELEBRATION

NAUGHTY NOEL? PARK ANGEL’S STEAMY AFFAIR WITH CORPORATE PRINCE 

PARK ANGEL TOPS KIM TAEHYUNG’S CHRISTMAS TREE

He winced a bit at that last one. 

“You have ten seconds to explain before I start throwing things.”

Taehyung opened his mouth to do just that, but he was interrupted when his mother marched into the room waving the same articles that Jimin had just thrown at him. 

“KIM TAEHYUNG I raised you better than this! How could you!? That poor girl!”

“Mother!” he squeaked, yanking his blanket up over his chest like a frightened debutante. 

Jungkook began surreptitiously filming the whole debacle from the corner. 

“Indeed,” Jimin added darkly, crossing his arms over his chest, “how could you?”

Taehyung sighed heavily. 

“Is anyone else going to come charging into my bedroom?”

“Just answer me once and for all, is she pregnant?” 

“WHAT?!” 

“NO! Mother! Oh my—”

“Why does your mom think my little sister is pregnant?!”

Taehyung waved his arms wildly in exasperation. 

“My mom thinks everyone is pregnant! You know this!”

Jungkook could no longer contain his hysterical cackling. He very nearly fell off the chair trying to hold it all in. 

“Mr. Jeon,” Taehyung ground out irritably, “if it’s not too much trouble, could you please escort everyone out of my bedroom so I can get dressed!” 

“So you see—I was basically like a doctor,” Taehyung finished emphatically. 

He spent the past twenty minutes explaining to the entire table (which now included both you and your mother) why it was necessary to shove his hand down the front of your dress. 

Park Soomin had shown up at his door looking for answers (and dragging you behind her like a sacrificial lamb) about three minutes after Jimin. 

You had taken one look at Jimin’s murderous expression and insisted that the situation be evaluated over breakfast at the cafe down the street (where there were lots of witnesses). 

Which was how you, Taehyung, Jimin, and both your mothers ended up discussing your cleavage over coffee in a public restaurant. 

Jimin was the first to break. It was a few snorts at first, but he was basically in tears by the end of it, wheezing about how he never doubted Taehyung for a second and holding on to his sides from laughing too hard. 

Taehyung’s gaze met yours for a brief, heated exchange. He conveniently forgot to mention your slightly-less-than-explainable ‘check-in’ texts, but their existence was palpable in the air between you. 

“I think I’ll take a walk,” you muttered, excusing yourself from the complicated atmosphere at the table. 

Taehyung’s eyes lingered on you a tad too long as you wandered away, a fact that wasn’t missed by either of your mothers.

“Just a few more events and you can go back to not seeing her at all,” Jimin chuckled, patting him on the back. 

“Yeah,” Taehyung answered with a tight smile. “That’s… great.”

The cafe had a lovely little balcony area decorated with all sorts of comforting Christmas foliage. It was far more inviting than the awkward conversation and confusing stares you and Taehyung had been trading all morning. 

For the first time in the nearly fifteen years of your relationship (such as it was) you didn’t know where you stood with him… and it bothered you more than you cared to admit. 

Taehyung had always been important to you, whether you wanted him to be or not. He mattered—effortlessly—from the first moment you met him and continued to do so without regard for your sanity. 

Whatever was building between you now would almost certainly bring change… though what kind of change was anyone’s guess. 

It was hard to imagine the years ahead without the strange excitement he always brought to your life, but some things were simply out of your control…

“I never thought I’d see you here.”

A profoundly unpleasant feeling (something similar to falling through the ice on a frozen pond) overtook you. 

“Milo.” Even saying his name felt gross. You sighed. “What is so strange about seeing me here?”

The man in question blushed in a way you once found irresistible. 

“I looked for you everywhere. All your usual places—”

“I avoided them.”

I avoided you. 

Milo nodded. 

“I—I figured.” 

He took a step closer and you instinctively moved back. The hurt in his eyes was unmistakable, but you had long since become immune. 

“What are you doing?” you hissed angrily. “I thought I made myself clear the last time we spoke.”

“Yes, but—” his hand reached out to curl over your forearm and you recoiled, “you didn’t give me a chance to explain—”

“Excuse me.” 

You both turned to see Kim Taehyung with his arms crossed over his chest, glaring at Milo like he was a roach that crawled across his dinner plate. 

“Your mother sent me to come find you. She wants to leave.” 

You nodded and moved to pull away, but Milo’s grip tightened on your arm. 

“No—please if you just give me a minute—”

“That is enough,” Taehyung snarled, seizing the other man’s hand and forcibly removing it from your person. He angled his body between the two of you protectively. “I think it’s time for you to go.”

Milo’s eyes narrowed. 

“You’re Kim Taehyung. I read all about you in the papers this morning.” His lips twisted into an ugly sneer as he addressed you. “You really think you’re better off with him if that’s the way he treats you?”

Taehyung tensed menacingly beside you, but you laid a gentle hand on his arm to calm him. 

“None of that is any of your concern.” Your gaze rose to meet his defiantly. “Nothing about me is your concern anymore.”

Milo’s eyes fell to where your palm rested on the other man’s sleeve, noticing the way you both unconsciously leaned toward one another. 

“This isn’t over,” he muttered, storming off. 

After he was gone, you let out a breath you hadn’t known you were holding. 

“Thank you,” you whispered (though you couldn’t resist adding), “I could have handled it myself of course…”

Taehyung laughed. 

“Oh I know. I was at that party where you knocked out Tyler Jung for grabbing your ass.” 

You grinned. 

“I’d forgotten about that.”

“Well I’m sure Tyler hasn’t.” 

(He neglected to mention that he split Tyler’s lip behind the library the next day, just to make sure it was extra memorable for him.) 

“I wish I could forget about Milo.”

“... Are you still in love with him?” 

The words tasted like ash in his mouth. 

“No.” You smiled softly. “I’m not sure I was ever in love with him actually. It’s more—” you sighed, “—embarrassment… wounded pride.”

Taehyung tilted his head curiously and you found yourself continuing. 

“In the beginning, he was very playful and charming—and obviously handsome. He reminded me so much of—”

you. 

You cleared your throat. 

“Anyway… I was quite taken with him at first. I didn’t suspect any ulterior motives.” You shrugged, trying to hold back the unpleasant emotions that always threatened to overrun you in moments like this. “I just thought he liked me.”

Taehyung’s eyes filled with sympathy and understanding as you spoke. It felt oddly natural to open up to him this way. 

“Jimin is very protective of me—with good reason it turns out. He was suspicious of Milo and hired people to do some discreet digging.”

Your hands wrapped around your body for both warmth and comfort. 

“Milo’s family owns several companies, just like ours, but they’re all struggling. His father sent him to me hoping that he would eventually get compromising information… a sex tape or photographs—something of that nature. They intended to blackmail Jimin into doing business with them.”

Taehyung felt his jaw clench painfully. Fury, hot and profound, rolled through him. 

“I should kill him.”

You shook your head, amused in spite of yourself. 

“That’s exactly what Jimin said.”

“He has good instincts.”

“Scum like Milo aren’t worth it,” you chuckled. “He never got what he wanted… but I was still mortified. I felt like such a fool for believing him.”

“No,” Taehyung’s hands slid up to cup your shoulders, “it’s not foolish to believe that someone cared for you.”

It would be so easy to care for you. 

“Besides…” his eyes fell briefly to your lips as he searched for the right words, “I saw the way he looked at you and—even though he’s clearly a terrible person—I believe his feelings may have been genuine.”

You nodded. 

“That’s what he keeps trying to tell me—that he did have bad intentions, but ended up falling for me anyway.” You shook your head. “As If I could believe a word he says.”

The silence between you stretched comfortably. Taehyung sensed you had more to say, so he waited until you were ready to voice it. 

“I think that’s why I’m so sensitive about handling things on my own lately… and just now even. I want to prove to everyone—to myself—that I’m not a liability.”

“Hey,” he whispered, tipping your chin up till your gazes met, “no one thinks you’re a liability. And even if you are capable, no one should have to fight their own battles all the time—especially when they’re emotionally compromised…” His thumb gently brushed away the small tear that escaped down the curve of your cheek. “That’s the benefit of having people who care about you.”

“... Like you?” 

The words left you so softly, you could almost imagine they were still in your head where they likely should have stayed. 

Taehyung’s eyes widened in surprise. His gaze became even more intent and you ceased breathing altogether. After a moment his lips parted as if he was about to speak- 

“What’s going on, guys?”

You both jerked back at the sound of your brother’s voice. He was standing in the entrance to the balcony, gaze darting suspiciously between the two of you. 

Taehyung was a bit dazed, but you were always quicker on your feet. 

“I ran into Milo… Tae was calming me down.”

Jimin’s eyes hardened immediately. 

“Where is he?”

“Long gone,” you mumbled, ambling over to the familiar warmth of his arms. “I just want to go home.” 

The Black and White Ball was one of the most coveted invitations of the holiday season. 

The dress code was quite strict (all black or all white—no exceptions) and it was one of the few events where people actually arrived in limousines. 

Taehyung loathed limousines. He felt absurdly pretentious pulling up to your building in such a gauche ride, but traditions and appearances meant too much in his world to simply disregard them. 

His ensemble for the evening was a beautifully tailored black suit with hand-stitched baroque detailing. Oddly, he found himself wondering what you would think of it... 

“You look like a vampire.”

Taehyung turned at the sound of your voice and was struck, yet again, by how incredibly beautiful you were. 

You had chosen to wear white, donning an exquisite gown with delicate pearl beading and a daring sweetheart neckline that molded perfectly to your frame. 

If he looked like a vampire, you were surely an angel. 

Still…

Angel or not, he couldn’t let that comment pass. 

“I think I’m offended.”

“I can’t imagine why. After all, loads of women are attracted to Nosferatu.”

Taehyung’s eyes narrowed. 

“There are so many sexy vampires in popular culture, but you just had to lump me in with the creepy bald one...”

You shrugged playfully. 

“I wouldn’t want you to think I was going soft.”

A wicked grin danced over your lips as you strolled past him regally—just as you had many times before... 

This time, however, he let his eyes linger a little longer on the view. 

Lord have mercy. 

“Of course not,” he coughed. 

“You’re what?!”

You rolled your eyes.

Tonight had been going rather well. 

The two of you formed a mutual unspoken agreement to pretend that your last encounter on the balcony (and on the phone) had never happened and (despite the heated glances you occasionally traded) the bickering and playful banter characteristic of your relationship had all but returned to normal...

Until Taehyung learned of your participation in the evening’s main event. 

“I told you, I’m part of the date auction this year.”

“Does your brother know about this?!”

“I didn’t see any reason to bother him with it.” You were suddenly preoccupied with your nails. 

“Woman,” Taehyung sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, “are you trying to make my life difficult?”

“No, I’m just naturally gifted in that respect.”

You turned and began making your way to the front, but Taehyung was hot on your heels and clearly not ready to let the matter rest. 

“I cannot believe you’re actually going through with this! It’s not 1810, you know. We shouldn’t just auction off women for dates—”

“You’re absolutely right, Tae Tae.” You brushed a condescending pat over his cheek. “Nowadays we auction off the men too.”

Then you sauntered off to join the rest of the participating women—and men—backstage, leaving Taehyung to stew about the entire situation from the crowd. 

“As you know, all proceeds from tonight’s auction go to fight childhood hunger right here in our city. For legal purposes, I must advise all bidders that you are only bidding on the company of the individual in question.”

Taehyung shook his head. “Jimin is probably going to kill me for this.”

“If you place the winning bid, then you and your date will receive two VIP tickets to the Governor's Winter Wonderland Gala which comes with a variety of amenities including; a luxury limousine service, one of the private and famously romantic Winter Wonderland dinner experiences—”

His eyes fluttered shut. “Jimin is definitely gonna kill me for this.” 

“—unlimited free drinks, ten complimentary tickets for each of the grand prize raffles, photos with the Governor and his family, along with many more surprises!”

Taehyung grabbed a champagne flute from a nearby waiter and downed it in one go. 

“And now for our first date of the evening! Mr. Jackson Wang!” 

Jackson went for a cool six grand because no one was brave enough to outbid his girlfriend. 

After him, the beautiful Manoban heiress and her handsome cousin Kim Namjoon went for twelve grand each.

Jung Hoseok started a frenzied bidding war between two young socialites and Mrs. O’Malley. He ended up going to the lovely Ms. Ana Fallon for a staggering twenty thousand dollars. 

Taehyung’s own cousin, Kim Seokjin, paid a jaw-dropping twenty-one thousand dollars for Lin Yuna, the young CEO of Lin Cosmetics. (Taehyung made a mental note to ask him about that later.) 

Then it was your turn. 

“The next lady on our list needs no introduction. The lovely Park Angel has graciously agreed to a date with one lucky bidder tonight! Who will it be? Do I hear ten thousand?”

“Ten thousand.”

Taehyung swung his head toward the first bidder and breathed a sigh of relief. 

Tam Martin, one of your best friends and very gay. 

“Eleven thousand.”

“Twelve thousand.”

“Fifteen.”

“Sixteen thousand dollars.”

“Seventeen thousand.”

“Eighteen.”

Taehyung was having trouble keeping up with all the bidders. His ears were starting to ring again and a strange unpleasant nausea was building in his stomach. 

“Twenty thousand.”

“Twenty-five thousand.”

“Thirty thousand!”

At the sound of the last bidder’s voice, you noticeably paled. Your eyes flew to Taehyung’s and immediately he knew exactly who it was. 

Milo.

Before he could even react to the new information, another voice joined the fray. 

“Forty thousand.”

Min Yoongi smiled smugly from the other side of the room and even had the audacity to throw you a wink. 

You smiled shyly at the young heir’s boldness and Taehyung felt something downright unholy rise up in his chest. 

No. 

Milo was still bidding. 

“Fifty thousand dollars.”

Not her. 

“Sixty,” Yoongi countered.

She’s mine. 

Suddenly Taehyung was on his feet. 

“One hundred thousand dollars!” 

The silence in the backseat of your limousine was deafening. 

Tension charged the air like an electric current as the significance of the last hour weighed heavily between you. 

The spacious luxury vehicle allowed you to sit facing one another. Taehyung’s eyes were focused on his hands, but you were looking at him—letting your mind run wild with speculation. 

And hope. 

Part of you was still there, on the stage, watching him stand up and bid a fortune for the pleasure of your company. 

His gaze was so fierce when he spoke, like an ancient emperor calling out his decree for the people to obey. 

You dreamed about him bidding on you when you signed up for the auction (even before Jimin bullied him into accompanying you). You let yourself imagine him speaking out again and again till the others stepped back—

Yet you never dared hope for it. 

However, the last several days marked an unexpected turning point in your relationship. 

For years, you and he were like magnets with a too-similar charge, but something had shifted irrevocably between you, and somehow your stubborn similarities became opposites that could not resist their attraction. 

Kim Taehyung was one of the wealthiest men in the city…

But he didn’t need to buy your heart. 

It had always been his, even if you didn’t want to admit it. 

He had claimed you tonight—and every single soul in that ballroom knew it. 

The next move was yours and you intended to make it. 

“Mmm,” you hissed a bit, bringing your hand to rest just below your breasts. 

Taehyung’s gaze flew up in concern. 

“Is everything alright?”

“Yes, it’s just that scratch from the earring,” your fingers rubbed gingerly at the spot, drawing his focus to it, “it still stings.”

“Oh… I—” he shook his head, “I didn’t realize it was that bad.”

“Do you want to see?” 

Taehyung’s eyes rose slowly to yours. 

You watched the subtle rise and fall of his chest as he considered your words. Anticipation vibrated through your blood like notes struck on a piano—

Then he nodded...

And you both were lost. 

Trembling fingers slid the zipper down the side of your gown. The dress itself was a marvel of physics designed to support you without the need for a bra. 

Taehyung drew in an impossibly deep breath as the fabric drifted to your waist, baring the perfect mounds of your breasts to him entirely. 

“Here,” you whispered, pointing to a small red mark just under the curve of your left one. 

He bit back a moan. 

“I—I see. That looks… painful.” His fingers dug into the seat beside him. “Is there anything I can do to help?” 

You nodded. 

“Kiss it better.”

Taehyung felt the air knock out of his lungs like a sucker punch. 

This must have been how Adam felt when Eve offered him the forbidden fruit all those millennia ago. 

He knew he shouldn’t—

but he could never deny you. 

“Of course.”

You watched as his tongue darted out to wet his lips. He looked like a man possessed and you reveled in the power of it. 

It was for you. 

He wanted you. 

Your back arched up the slightest bit, beckoning to him—offering him a taste of what he was so desperately craving. 

Touch me… please. 

Large palms landed on either side of your thighs, bracing him on the seat beneath you. The tip of his nose teased the delicate line of your collar bone and he swore violently under his breath. 

Then his lips were on your skin and your mind went blank. 

“Taehyung—“ you moaned. 

Hot open-mouthed kisses spread over the soft swell of your breast and you gasped— shuddering helplessly as a fierce wave of pleasure tore through you.

Sweet merciful heavens. 

Over the years you imagined a moment like this thousands of times in your head—only to discover now that you had pitifully underestimated both his passion and his skill. 

You had dreamed of a quiet fire—but he had unleashed an inferno. 

The lewd sounds of his mouth nipping and sucking at your tender flesh filled the small space around you as he poured himself into each obscene contact—stopping briefly to flick his tongue over the taunt peak of your nipple. You trembled breathlessly at the sharp snap of sensation, letting your head fall back against the seat as you buried your fingers in his soft curls. 

“T-Tae—”

Finally his mouth fastened over the tiny scratch, and the kiss deepened. You knew what he was doing, what the result of his efforts would be—

He was marking you. 

And you wanted it. 

Oh how you wanted it. 

Suddenly the car took a sharp turn, causing Taehyung to lose his grip on the seat. His arms wrapped around your torso for balance, dragging you fully against him.

“Does it feel better, Angel?” he growled. 

You nodded frantically and he nipped at the underside of your breast. 

“Speak up.”  

“Yes, Taehyung,” you whimpered, “it feels so much better.” 

“Mmmm,” he hummed, brushing his mouth along the sensitive column of your neck. “Who knew you could be such a good girl?”

Then his hand came up to grip your chin, turning it so your lips were almost against his—

“Madame. We’ve arrived.”

The driver’s voice cut over your senses like a shard of ice. 

Taehyung jerked backward and immediately buried his face in his hands. 

Your fingers hastily yanked your dress up and you stumbled out of the car in a daze, letting your feet carry you forward until you collapsed on top of your bed. 

Did we just...

You hadn’t even begun to collect your thoughts when your phone buzzed from inside your purse. 

1 New Message from: Taehyung 🙄🥴🙈

I need to know you made it safely to your room. 

You grinned. 

Greedy boy. 

Back in the limousine, the boy in question was nervously tapping the corner of his phone against his chin as he waited for your reply. 

1 New Message from: Angel 🤬🥵😅

Oh? But you saw me walk in… and I’m already in bed.

Taehyung growled in frustration. 

She would be a tease. 

To: Angel 🤬🥵😅

I tend to worry. Put my mind at ease. 

He shook his head. 

I have officially gone insane. 

The phone buzzed again. 

1 New Message from: Angel 🤬🥵😅

Well… We can’t have that can we… 

Taehyung literally felt the whine tear out of him as he opened the picture. 

Your gorgeous body (the body he’d had his hands and mouth on for one glorious minute) was nestled decadently atop a pile of fluffy blue blankets and wrapped in nothing but a tiny silk robe. 

The neck gaped open just enough to show off the pretty red marks he left on the delectable curve of your breast. 

He groaned, biting down hard on his bottom lip.

To: Angel 🤬🥵😅

That's all I get after I made the pain go away? Good girls send real proof, Angel

The screen lit up again almost immediately. 

1 New Message from: Angel 🤬🥵😅

Guess I’m not such a good girl after all...

Jimin came tearing through the Kim Manor front gate at precisely 7 AM—only to find Jungkook camped out at the entrance with several outdoor space heaters and a giant mug of hot chocolate.

“He told you not to let me in, didn’t he?”

Jungkook took a long satisfying sip of his cocoa. 

“I hope you don’t feel singled out, sir. I’m not allowed to let his mother in either.”

“I need to talk to him.”

“Of course, Mr. Park, let me just pull up his schedule—”

“I need to talk to him now.”

“I’m afraid Mr. Kim is booked solid for the morning.”

Jimin stomped his foot like a petulant child. 

“I know he’s up there.”

Jungkook grinned. 

“You’re welcome to climb the trellis and check. I promise not to stop you if you make it all the way up.”

“COME DOWN HERE AND FACE ME YOU COWARD!” Jimin shouted at the top of his lungs. 

Jungkook took another long pull of his drink. 

“Might I inquire as to the reason for your visit today, sir?”

“The reason for my visit,” Jimin yanked out his phone and angrily began typing into the search bar, “is that your boss paid ONE HUNDRED THOUSAND DOLLARS for my sister at a date auction last night and I want to know what the hell is going on between them!”

The article Jimin pulled up (DEVILISH KIM TAEHYUNG BUYS HIMSELF A $100,000 ANGEL) featured an image of the two of you entering the Black and White Ball. Your head was thrown back in laughter and Taehyung was grinning down at you as if you’d personally hung all the stars in the sky for him. 

A genuine smile crept over Jungkook’s face as he studied the photograph. 

“That’s quite a headline.” He handed Jimin’s phone back. “Have you asked your sister about it?”

“No, I swung by earlier, but she wasn’t home so—” His eyes widened. “Oh my—is she—”

Jimin suddenly took off running for the trellis, and Jungkook scrambled out of his chair to chase him. 

“KIM TAEHYUNG IF MY SISTER IS IN THAT ROOM—”

He was already three feet off the ground when Jungkook yanked him back. 

“I thought you said I could climb the trellis!”

“Yes,” Jungkook wheezed, “but I didn’t think you’d actually do it!” That trellis is a hundred years old! A few more feet and I’d be scraping you off the antique brickwork!”

Jimin scowled and crossed his arms. 

“Are you by any chance open to bribes?”

“Normally yes, but Tae promised to double my Christmas bonus if I didn’t accept them today.”

Jimin continued to eye the trellis speculatively, clearly willing to take his chances. Jungkook sighed and rubbed his forehead. 

“Mr. Park, I promise you… He came home alone last night. In fact, they both returned earlier than usual because your sister had a 7 AM finance meeting.” He paused significantly to glance at his watch. “Which is probably where she is right now.”

“Oh… Well.”

Jungkook bit his lip to hold back a snort and Jimin’s eyes narrowed. 

“He has to come down eventually.”

“One would think.”

The young Park heir glanced toward Taehyung’s window again just in time to see the man in question dart back behind the curtains. 

"I KNOW YOU'RE AWAKE, KIM TAEHYUNG, YOU PHILANDERING SLEAZE BAG!" 

Jimin made another jump for the trellis and this time Jungkook caught him in mid-air. 

“Sir, I’m sure it was just the maid!”

“It’s not the maid! I’d know that raggedy mop of his anywhere!”

Jungkook was out of breath at this point. Park Jimin might be small, but he was fierce. 

“Perhaps it’s best if you took a moment to collect yourself,” he grunted. “There’s a lovely new spa down the street and they sent Taehyung two free deluxe packages.”

Jimin stopped struggling. 

“Oh?”

Five minutes later, Jungkook sighed deeply and fished his phone out of his back pocket. 

“He’s gone, sir.”

“Excellent work, Jungkook. I never doubted you for a second.”

“However…”

“... However?”

“I had to give him your spa passes.”

“YOU DID WHAT?!”

“Are you headed for a gala or the guillotine?”

Taehyung rolled his eyes. 

“I don’t pay extra for commentary.”

“It’s complimentary, sir.”

The Kim heir tugged absently at the material of his absurdly expensive evening wear. 

Why do these events always have to be so uncomfortable? 

“Seriously, Tae… you seem,” the young aide searched for the right words, “unusually tense.”

Taehyung’s mind flashed back to three nights ago when he had his mouth wrapped around your breast. 

“Not at all,” he coughed, loosening the collar of his shirt. 

Jungkook bit his lip.

“Is this about Ms. Park, sir?”

The cufflinks Taehyung was attempting to fasten suddenly went flying across the room and hit a lamp. 

Both men winced. 

“I think that was your grandmother’s.”

Taehyung sighed. 

“I admit there have been… some developments.”

Jungkook nodded nonchalantly, trying to disguise the fact that he was internally frothing at the mouth for details. 

“... Such as?”

Taehyung gulped. 

“It started out rather innocently I suppose…” he cleared his throat, “but there may have been some suggestive photographs.”

“There may have been? Are you not sure?”

Taehyung colored guiltily. 

“Well—”

“Do you need me to check for you, sir? I have an art history degree.”

“Absolutely not.”

Jungkook grinned. 

“That’s what I thought.”

Taehyung yanked his tie out of the younger man’s hand. 

“Things have… escalated a bit.”

“Escalated how?”

I licked her tit in the back of a limo.

“Physically.”

It was everything Jungkook could do to maintain a straight face. 

“That’s… shocking.”

“Then why don’t you seem shocked?” Taehyung grumbled. 

A small smile played across Jungkook’s lips as he pointedly ignored the elder man’s observation.

“So what are you going to do, sir?”

Taehyung was silent for a long moment. 

“I honestly have no idea.”

Watching you walk toward him was an experience.  

Taehyung wondered absently if this was how it would be from now on; if for the rest of his life just the sight of you would be enough to scatter his mind and his pulse and even the way he breathed. 

Your dress tonight was deadly. 

It was a decadent red satin halter that clung to every curve. The truly wicked detail, however, was a daring slit that ran the entire length of your leg. 

Taehyung was certain he was going to trip over his own tongue at some point if he looked directly at you for too long. 

Oh help. 

Memories of your previous encounter flooded his senses. Every second you were getting closer and he didn’t know what to do—what to say. 

So he didn’t say anything at all. 

Not a word when you reached the bottom of the stairs. Nothing but silence as he opened the door of the limo for you. More silence and no eye contact as he settled into the seat across from yours—

And you tolerated that for about three minutes. 

“I never thought I’d see the day when Kim Taehyung didn’t have a comment about something. Perhaps I should mark this down on my calendar.”

The words were lightly spoken, but you were shaking on the inside. The last time the two of you were alone together he had your dress around your waist and you were moaning his name. Now he wasn’t talking and you were torn between panic and irritation. 

Taehyung, however, latched onto your passive barb like a lifeline. 

“Is that a hint of sarcasm I hear from the benevolent Park Angel?” He grinned. “Surely not.”

“Red is not a particularly angelic color. Perhaps I’m feeling feisty today.”

Taehyung leaned back in his seat and indulged himself in a thorough examination of your outfit. The urge to run his hands over the satin-covered lines of your body was nearly unbearable. He curled his fingers into fists to keep them from doing just that. 

She is definitely trying to kill me. 

“Should I be worried?”

Now it was your turn to grin. 

“I guess we’ll find out.”

The Governor’s Winter Wonderland Gala was by far the most extravagant event of the holiday season. Tickets cost a small fortune and sold out almost immediately. 

But it was well worth the price of admission.

Thousands of lights sparkled overhead as you made your way through the great hall of Governor Kim’s mansion. 

It was like stepping into a fairytale. 

Taehyung couldn’t take his eyes off you. The sheer wonder in your expression was breathtaking. 

You were breathtaking.  

“Governor Kim, it is such an honor to finally meet you.”

The Governor was a handsome man in his early fifties with a smile that was every bit as lethal as it had been twenty-five years ago. 

“The honor is all mine, Ms. Park. I trust my nephew is treating you well.”

Your eyes widened. 

“N-nephew?”

Taehyung shrugged. 

“I don’t really talk about it much.” 

The Governor chuckled and you cleared your throat to cover your nervousness. 

“Yes, he’s been a very capable escort.”

“Is that so?” Governor Kim smiled charmingly. “Well if it doesn’t work out, my son Seokjin is still single—”

“Thank you, Uncle. It was lovely to see you as always.”

You squeaked as Taehyung placed his hand firmly on the curve of your back and practically dragged you away. 

The Governor just shook his head and laughed. 

“Oh kid, you’ve got it bad.”

Everywhere you looked there was beauty. 

Whoever planned the gala this year had truly gone above and beyond. Surrounded on all sides by glittering trees and snowy vignettes, it was easy to be swept away in the festive magic of the evening. 

All in all (despite some initial awkwardness), you were having a fantastic time...

Until she showed up. 

“Kim Taehyung! Is that you?”

Every single hair on your body stood on end, but before you could determine the source of the shrill squealing, you found yourself being nudged aside by a blinding golden gown and some very high heels. 

“Aubrey,” Taehyung grunted as five-and-half feet of gorgeous wrapped herself around him like a clinging vine. “Long time no see.”

“Not since that vacation in Aspen,” she giggled. “We had quite a time, didn’t we Tae Tae!”

Suddenly you had the most unholy urge to slap the spray tan right off this woman. 

Instead, you plastered on a vibrant smile and placed your hand on Taehyung’s sleeve.

“Um. Excuse me, Tae Tae, perhaps you could introduce us?”

Taehyung looked as if he’d just been served raw fire ants for dinner. 

“Yes. Of course. This is—”

“Aubrey Alicia St. Valentine,” she interrupted with a smug little smirk. “Taehyung and I go way back.” Her expression grew just the slightest bit tighter. “And you are?”

“His date,” you deadpanned. 

“Aubrey,” Taehyung cleared his throat, “I’d like you to meet Ms. Park she’s—”

“Oh my goodness! You’re Jimin’s little sister aren't you!” Aubrey slapped her hand over his chest and he winced. “That is so precious of you to take her around like this!”

Your eyebrows raised right up into your hairline and Taehyung groaned. 

“Yes, he was kind enough to sign me out of the nursery for the evening.” You offered them both a painfully vacant nod. “If you’ll excuse me, I think I see one of my play-dates near the buffet.”

Then you turned on your heel and sauntered off without another word. 

Taehyung moved to follow you, but Aubrey curled her fingers into the crook of his arm and pulled him back. 

“Oh let her go, Tae. You and I have so much catching up to do.”

Taehyung pointedly removed her hand from his elbow. 

“Some other time perhaps.” 

Aubrey pouted prettily. 

“You’re not running off after her are you? She’s a big girl, she can take care of herself.”

Taehyung crossed his arms and fixed her with a knowing look. 

“Funny... that’s not what you were implying a moment ago.”

“A moment ago I didn’t have you all to myself. Now I do.” She had the decency to blush. “Perhaps I got a bit jealous.”

“You don’t say.” His eyes continued to search the crowd for any sign of you. 

“It seems I had good reason to be,” she murmured quietly. 

“Aubrey... Listen I—”

She cut him off with a finger to his lips.

“Don’t bother Tae Tae. I’m petty, but I’ve never been pathetic.”

He grinned. 

“Never.”

The lady sighed and gave him a heated once over.

“What a shame.”

Then she strolled off with a rueful smile. 

“You know what I don’t understand?”

You turn to find Min Yoongi leaning casually against a nearby column. He looked absurdly handsome as always, but his grin was just the slightest bit mischievous. 

“What don’t you understand, Mr. Min?”

The question was clearly a bait, but you were still fuming from your earlier encounter with Ms. St. Valentine and therefore desperately in need of a distraction. 

Yoongi pushed off the column and lazily made his way toward you.

“I don’t understand how a man pays a hundred thousand dollars for an evening with the most beautiful woman in the city, and then leaves her all by herself.” He leaned forward with a playful grin. “Perhaps you could enlighten me?”

Oh he’s good. 

You made a show of tapping your chin thoughtfully. 

“I’m afraid I don’t have an answer for that one.”

Yoongi sighed and shook his head. 

“Couldn’t be me.”

You laughed then. He really was a delightful man. In fact, if you still had your heart, you might have considered letting him take a shot at it. 

Alas. 

You tilted your head speculatively. 

Surely there was no need to brush away good company...

After all, no one else is interested in spending time with me. 

“Since my escort is otherwise occupied, perhaps you could join me for dinner?”

Yoongi held out his hand. 

“I’d be delighted.”

Taehyung wandered around the mansion for nearly forty-five minutes looking for his date.  

Panic was just starting to build in his chest when he finally spotted you

—at his private dining table with Min Yoongi. 

It was everything he could do not to storm over and yank the other man out of his seat by the lapels. 

Alright, Angel. If this is the game you want to play… then let’s play. 

Taehyung felt his anger rise with every step, but he ruthlessly suppressed any sign of it and instead adopted a charming smile. 

“Min, I didn’t expect to find you here. What a… delightful surprise.”

Yoongi’s expression was just a shade too satisfied. Taehyung could already feel his blood pressure beginning to skyrocket. 

“Yes, Ms. Park believed that you were otherwise occupied and invited me to share the meal with her.”

“I see,” Taehyung practically snarled. “However,” his gaze landed heavily on you, “since I paid for this table, I hope you won’t mind if I join you as well?”

You avoided looking at him up to this point, but now you were choking on your wine

“Easy there, Angel,” Taehyung murmured as he pulled up a seat extremely close to yours—so close that your thighs were nearly touching. 

Oh boy. 

Over the next several minutes Yoongi continued to flirt openly and you continued to smile prettily and pretend Taehyung wasn’t there (which naturally infuriated him). 

You should have known he wouldn’t let you get away with such behavior so easily. 

This was Kim Taehyung, after all, and if there was anything that could be counted on when it came to your shared history, it was that one (or both) of you was always ready to escalate. 

You had just offered the young Min heir yet another flowery compliment when you felt Taehyung make his move. 

Two warm fingers slid under the silken slit of your dress, coming to rest possessively over the soft flesh of your inner thigh. 

You squeaked and nearly spat up your drink. 

Taehyung leaned forward in fake concern, wrapping his arm around you as if to offer aid. 

“Are you alright?”

His hand continued to move significantly beneath your gown, but his face was the picture of innocence. 

You glared. 

“Just fine, thank you.”

A slow grin crept across his features as he began to trace soft intimate patterns over your skin.  

On the other side of the table, Yoongi tilted his head in genuine solicitude. “Are you sure?”

You nodded sharply. 

Satisfied, he resumed speaking about whatever it was he’d been saying—though you couldn’t understand a word of it at this point because the torturous strokes Taehyung was leisurely drawing over your thighs were moving closer to your center with each passing second. 

Yet you made no move to stop him. 

You should have. 

You should have slapped his touch away—rebuked him for his boldness—

But you didn’t. 

So he just kept nodding and smiling while Yoongi spoke, even as his fingers teased you with the maddening persistence of a man who knew very well what he was doing. 

You gasped aloud when he finally brushed the pad of his thumb over the thin cotton of your panties. 

“T-Taehyung—” 

“Hmm?” he turned to you, seemingly surprised by your attention (it was—after all—the first time you’d addressed him since the beginning of the meal).

“Could you pass me the salt,” you sputtered (hoping to cover the fact that you moaned his name involuntarily). Unfortunately, Taehyung seemed wholly aware of your ruse, offering you the salt shaker with a superior smirk.

You seriously considered stabbing him with a fork. 

However, before you could carry out any bloodthirsty plans, he pressed his fingers directly over your clit and your eyes rolled back in your head

“Oh my g—” you bit your lip stubbornly, “this lamb is just so good.” 

Sweet mother of macaroons, he is too skilled at this. 

You shoveled another bite into your mouth to cover your whine as Taehyung began to rub tight little circles over your sweet spot. 

Across the table, Yoongi nodded in blissful unawareness. 

“Yes, I agree, the lamb is excellent—very tender.”

Taehyung took advantage of the momentary distraction to slip beneath the fabric of your undergarment. 

Your fork clattered to your plate and your hand came up to cover your mouth as he began running his fingers up and down your soaked slit.

It was everything you could do to hold back your depraved whimpering. 

“I can’t wait to taste it,” Taehyung replied, flicking your clit in a way that guaranteed he wasn’t referring to the lamb. 

At this point Yoongi seemed to notice you were in some sort of distress. He wiped his mouth with his napkin and leaned forward. 

“Ms. Park, are you well?”

Taehyung chose that moment to sink his finger into the welcoming heat of your pussy. 

“Yes,” you almost sobbed, “I’m-I’m very well—thank you.”

“Excellent,” Yoongi smiled as he rose to his feet. “If you’re feeling up to it, perhaps you could favor me with a dance?”

Several attendees were already making their way to the center of the floor and the orchestra was beginning to play.

Your entire body, however, was vibrating like a plucked harp string and Taehyung was still brushing back and forth against your clit, driving you toward a release that promised to be explosive. 

There was no way—simply no way—that you would be capable of hiding it. 

“Yes! I would love to dance with you,” you squeaked, grabbing hold of Taehyung’s wrist frantically. The feel of him pulling out of your sopping core was nearly enough to have you coming right there. 

Thankfully, Yoongi remained utterly oblivious to the debauchery unfolding beneath the table. He took your hand and helped you to your feet with an eager smile (and it was a good thing too because your legs were still shaking). 

When the two of you reached the dance floor, you turned back for the briefest instant—

just long enough to meet Taehyung’s heated gaze as his lips closed over the finger he buried in your cunt. 

Emotions were a funny thing. 

They impacted your judgement, affected your body, altered your behavior… 

And occasionally eroded your common sense. 

Sitting alone in the corner of the Governor’s ballroom, Kim Taehyung found himself experiencing a full spectrum of emotional side-effects. 

His hands clenched as he watched Min Yoongi spin you around the floor. 

His heart pounded every time he caught a flash of your shapely leg peeking through the slit in your gown. 

His blood boiled when you threw your head back and laughed at something the other man said. 

It was difficult to pinpoint which emotion was to blame for each of these reactions. There were certainly a number of them boiling over in his subconscious. 

Frustration—

I didn’t even want to talk to Aubrey! How are you acting like anything she said was my fault?!

Rage—  

Why is challenging people to duels illegal? I would fight Min Yoongi at dawn. I would fight Min Yoongi now. 

Jealousy—

You asked her to dance while my fingers were in her pussy. We are not the same. 

But perhaps the most persistent—the most overwhelming— emotion twisting through him was longing. 

You and Taehyung spent nearly four years apart, and he was so desperate to be near you—even then—that he resorted to childish pranks in order to remain a part of your life. 

He hadn’t recognized his actions or desires for what they were. He hadn’t realized what you meant to him...

But now, after spending the last several days with your hand on his arm and your laughter in his ear, he could no longer imagine spending another moment without you. 

Everything seemed to crystallize as he watched you laughing and dancing in the arms of another man. 

Uncertainty became clear. Complications became simple. 

And when he saw Min Yoongi’s hand slide dangerously close to the perfect swell of your backside—

Emotion became action.

“Mind if I cut in?”

It wasn’t a question really. Taehyung was already shouldering his rival out of the way and pulling you into his arms. 

“Taehyung,” you hissed, shooting the bewildered Yoongi an apologetic look over his shoulder, “what are you doing? This is so rude—”

“You’re absolutely right,” he agreed, sweeping you through the couples on the floor with practiced ease. “It is unpardonably rude to steal someone else’s date. He’s lucky all I did was steal you back.”

Your mouth dropped open. 

“Oh? So you finally remembered that I was your date?”

Taehyung’s grip on the curve of your waist became a shade rougher as he pulled you through the next turn. 

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“It means—” you stepped forward vigorously, nearly smashing your body into his, “—that you spent forty-five minutes with Aubrey Alicia St. Valentine when you were supposed to be having dinner with me!”

Taehyung growled and yanked you flush against him. 

“I spent forty-five minutes looking for you while you were giving away my table to Min Yoongi!”

The two of you sailed through the next several movements glaring at one another before you snapped again. 

“None of this would have happened if you had just told Aubrey St. Spray Tan that you were with me—”

“I did!”

“Instead, you let her call me a baby!”

“What let? Aubrey is a grown woman!”

“But—”

“And—you stormed off before I could say anything, so how would you know what I let?”

“You didn’t come after me!”

“Yes actually I did—but she grabbed my arm!”

“Really? Well what else did she grab?”

Taehyung abruptly realized how silent everything around you had become. 

People were staring—and not even discreetly— just full on staring with their mouths hanging open. 

Well that’s great. 

Taehyung’s hand closed around yours and you suddenly found yourself being marched across the dance floor at a breakneck pace.

“What are you doing?”

“Continuing this discussion in private.”

“We can’t just go somewhere private in the Governor’s mansion!” you sputtered, struggling to keep up with his larger strides. 

“You mean in my uncle’s house? Yes—actually we can—and we will.”

Taehyung proved to be a man of his word, dragging you past two security guards and into the roped off section of the manor with nothing more than a nod. 

The residential wing of the Governor’s home was beautifully decorated with traditional Korean artistic touches—all of which you were unable to appreciate while Taehyung was speed walking you through the halls. 

After a surprising amount of turns and archways, he yanked open an ornate wooden door with the words Reflection Suite written on a plaque above it in beautiful calligraphy. 

You almost giggled when you got a look inside. 

On the surface it was a tastefully furnished guest room with a simple cherry wood desk and a cozy double bed set in an elegant matching frame.

However—

The ceiling and one full wall were nothing but massive mirrors. 

Reflection suite indeed. 

The door slammed shut and Taehyung rounded on you with a stormy expression—though you weren’t waiting on him to fire the first volley.

“This is definitely going to get us in trouble.”

“I told you, I can go wherever I want in this house. It’s fine.”

“Then why did you take us here?”

“Because you were shouting—”

“I was shouting?! You were shouting I just—”

Suddenly your back was against the wall and Taehyung’s mouth was on yours. 

He hadn’t brought you here for this. When he grabbed your hand, he was only trying to get away from the crowds. He told himself that he needed privacy so you could talk—so he could clarify things. 

But the minute the door closed and you flared up again in all your magnificent rage, he was lost. 

He had to kiss you then. 

You were so lovely. So fierce. So wildly irresistible and he was too utterly smitten to fight the need to be near you—to be with you in every way that he could—for a single second more. 

The shock of Kim Taehyung pressing his lips to yours lasted about two full seconds—and then there was nothing but ravenous insatiable need. 

Finally. 

Everything was him. 

Everything was this—this sweet indescribable ignition of a desire that spanned years. You moaned eagerly against his mouth in wanton delight. After a decade of sparks, you were more than ready to burn. 

“Taehyung—”

His name poured out of you like a prayer. You needed him everywhere and miraculously he seemed to understand—

Not that he was prepared to be polite about it. 

“Where’s that smart mouth now, Angel?” he growled, tangling his hands in your hair to expose the tender column of your throat. “Nothing to say?”

Your only answer was a desperate whine as he spread hot-open mouthed kisses down the soft skin of your neck all the way to your collarbone.

Now was not the time for patience. He would be tender with you later. You absolutely deserved soft sweet caresses and slow leisurely love making and he was absolutely going to give them to you—every day if you’d let him. 

But not today. 

The minute his mouth encountered the barrier of your dress, he gripped onto the sides and yanked it down to your waist.

“You knew just what you were doing in the back of that limo, you little brat,” he hissed, taking one swollen nipple into his mouth and tormenting it with his tongue.

“Tae-ahhh!” Your back arched involuntarily in ruthless pleasure. 

“I spent hours—days even—wanting to get my hands on these perfect tits.” He licked the other nipple obscenely, squeezing the soft mound till it bulged through his fingers. “And you offered me the barest taste with that coy little grin, knowing it wouldn’t be enough—” 

He reared back and landed a firm slap on both breasts and you screamed.

It was so so good. 

“Look at them now,” he murmured, “so swollen and needy and mine.”

If any other man had said those words, you would have cut his heart out with a butter knife. 

But you had always belonged to this man body and soul, and to hear him acknowledge it so primitively felt like the sweetest vindication. 

“Yes!” you sobbed.

The affirmation only inflamed him further. He teased and fondled the tender flesh till you were shaking.

Your fingers curled into the soft waves of his hair as he indulged himself. He looked so ridiculously good sucking your nipple, moaning lewdly with his eyes pressed shut in cathartic bliss. 

“This is all your fault, Angel,” he groaned. “You just don’t know how to behave.”

His hands gripped the curve of your backside, lifting you right off the floor and into his arms. Your mouths fused together heatedly as he carried you to the bed, and you giggled against him when his words finally processed. 

“You’ve been saying that for years.” 

“It’s been true for years,” he muttered, pulling one of your legs up around him so he could grind against your cunt while you kissed. 

Your fingers tugged at the buttons of his shirt, tearing them off when they didn’t unhook fast enough. You waited too long to be with him like this to care about anything other than the feel of his skin against your own.

“Impatient, are we?” he chuckled, bringing his lips around to nip at your ear. 

“You’re one to talk,” you shot back, yanking the ruined garment right off his shoulder just so you could sink your teeth into it. 

Taehyung moaned loudly, snapping his hips against yours with an involuntary jerk.

“You really are such a brat,” he hissed, fisting his hands in the satin length of your skirt. “Let’s see how fierce you are with my tongue in your pussy—”

His words were so filthy and raw, yet they stoked a frenzied need in your belly like nothing you had ever encountered. 

“This dress is evil,” he snarled, fumbling with the zipper for a moment before switching to a more destructive tactic. “It has tormented me all night and now it’s in my way.”

The stitching proved no match for his resolve, and—after a few vigorous tugs—he ripped it apart from the slit on up, leaving you covered in nothing but the thin cotton underwear he had breached earlier that evening. 

After disposing of your shredded gown, Taehyung paused for a moment just to take in the sight of you. 

“What a perfect little angel,” he taunted playfully, snapping the band of your lingerie against your hips with a cocky grin. 

Then he brushed his nose right up against the sopping fabric and inhaled deeply. “You smell just like heaven,” he growled before licking you right through the cloth, “and you taste even better.”

The sensations twisting through your body were merciless. You needed more or you were going to shake apart. 

“Taehyung please,” you whined, pressing against him shamelessly.

“Oh a please?” he chuckled, throwing your own words from the first night back at you. “Who knew you had manners?”

You would have screamed in frustration, but he cut you off with an open mouthed kiss right over the wettest part of your panties.

“Perhaps I can make a good girl of you yet,” he chuckled, as you opened yourself wider to encourage him. 

You nodded frantically, letting out another moan when he yanked the flimsy little scrap of lace down your legs—smearing a line of arousal over your thighs.

“So messy,” he tsked, tapping his finger right above your knee where the naughty little streak ended. “What am I going to do with you?” 

Then he pressed his tongue over the shiny trail of slick and licked it right off. 

You gasped loudly and his lascivious smirk was almost beautiful enough to make up for all of the shameless teasing. 

Almost. 

"You want my mouth, pretty Angel?” he whispered, letting the words brush maddeningly against your folds. “You want me to feed on this sweet little cunt?”

Every cell in your body cried out for release. He already edged you under the table at dinner and now he was determined to unravel you entirely. You would say anything—do anything. 

"Please—" you whispered.

"Please who?" 

Normally you met his arrogance with a cutting riposte, but an entire evening of methodical torment had left you beyond desperate. 

"Please Taehyung,” you begged needily. 

He grinned. 

“That’s right, Angel. Kim Taehyung. Not Min Yoongi or any other pathetic trust fund prick that’s panting for a taste of this pussy.” His eyes fastened on yours significantly. “You belong to me.”

Then his tongue licked a flat stripe over your glistening slit and you sagged onto the bed in relief—only to be thrown back into oblivion when his lips closed over your clit. 

Your body arched involuntarily as a ruthless wave of pleasure tore through you. Your eyes and mouth flew open in a silent scream and it was in that moment you remembered exactly where you were. 

Underneath a giant mirror. 

The passionate woman staring down at you was nearly unrecognizable. Her body was littered with her lover’s marks. Her hands gripped feverishly into the sheets beneath her—-

And Kim Taehyung was kneeling between her thighs, suckling on her weeping cunt with obscene satisfaction. 

It was the sexiest thing you had ever seen in your life. 

Your hands reached down to tangle in his hair, using it for leverage as you ground against his face. 

Then suddenly his grip on your legs tightened and his tongue plunged roughly into your trembling core. 

“Tae—ahh oh my—I can’t—”

The sensation was so intense that your hips bucked violently. You could not keep still. You were charging towards an explosion and your body was shaking itself apart. 

The noises tearing from you were incoherent. Everything around you focused in on the juncture of your thighs where Taehyung was licking inside of you again and again until—

You shattered. 

And the force of it nearly bent your back in half. 

Delirious sobs poured from your lips as he worked you through it, letting the obscene flood of your cum soak his face. 

The sight of him slowly lapping at the release between your folds, was unspeakably erotic. He ran his hands in soothing circles over your skin while you twitched and fluttered back down from your high. 

Then he was kissing you again. 

It was softer this time, but you felt truly depraved—and instantly obsessed—with the taste of yourself in his mouth—on his skin.

You could barely understand this ravenous hunger. You’d just found relief, yet you were already reaching for more. 

Your hands snaked down and wrapped around his still covered cock and he hissed in ragged pleasure. 

“So eager,” he gasped, as you pushed him back against the headboard—but you didn’t have time to bother with his teasing.

You were gonna blow Kim Taehyung into space. 

He bit his lip when you yanked down his pants and boxers together, freeing his arousal with stunning efficiency. 

It was almost unfair to discover that his cock was every bit as beautiful as he was.

“Of course,” you muttered. 

The sultry smirk he shot you in return had your cunt flooding all over again.

“You think Min Yoongi has a cock like mine?”

“I don’t think about Min Yoongi’s cock,” you retorted, wrapping your hand around his length, “you’ve always been the biggest dick I’ve ever met.” 

“I knew you thought about my dick,” he groaned as you began to work up and down the swollen shaft. 

After a moment, his hand slid over your chin to grip your hair, drawing you forward till your lips were almost touching. 

“I wonder what this pretty mouth can do,” he whispered. 

You gasped against him and he smiled. 

“Do you know how often I pictured your lips around my cock, Angel?”

You mewled shamelessly and he growled, cupping your cheek as your hands continued to service him. 

“Do you know how often I imagined this perfect throat stuffed full of my cum?” 

His palm slid down to lightly grip the soft flesh of your neck and you shuddered against him with a needy whimper. 

“I know you could suck me so good, Angel. I’ve wanted it for so so long...”

Your mouth actually watered with anticipation. 

The desire to be good for him—to give him whatever he asked for—consumed you. 

Taehyung let his head fall back against the headboard with a groan at the first brush of your lips along his shaft. His hips rutted involuntarily as your tongue wrapped around the tip and you hummed with pleasure at his enthusiastic response. 

After a moment you slid him into the welcoming heat of your mouth, taking him in as far as you could in one stroke. His jaw dropped open and his entire body jerked forward. 

“Yes, that’s it, Angel—feels so good.”

His praise was addictive. 

You loved that you could bring him to this. You loved to see the haughty Kim Taehyung coming apart as you sucked him. 

It made you feel beautiful—powerful even—and you reveled in every second of it. 

Your eyes were starting to tear. His length began to throb and pulse against your tongue and you knew he was close—so close you could almost taste him—

Yet suddenly he was pulling you back and you whined pitifully at the loss. 

Taehyung chuckled, dragging you toward him till your dripping core slid across his cock.

“I’m not coming before I get inside that pretty little pussy,” he swore, working your hips over his sex till it was drenched in arousal. 

The crass words filled you with the fiercest, most incredible want and you clenched reflexively against him in response. 

“Is that what you want?” Taehyung whispered as he bore you back into the mattress, pinning both your wrists above your head. “You want me to fill your empty little cunt?”

You did. 

You wanted it so so bad. 

“Please.”

Taehyung gently lowered himself closer to you, resting his forehead intimately against yours as he lined up his cock at your entrance. 

“Are you sure, Angel? Because there’s no going back after this... If you give yourself to me, then you’re mine—and I’ll fight tooth and nail to keep you.”

“Taehyung, you idiot,”—a tender smile spread over your face as you wrapped your arms around his neck—“... I’ve always been yours.”

He swore violently—letting the slight tremble in his voice betray just how deeply your words affected him. 

Then his fingers tightened on the soft flesh of your hip and he filled you to the hilt with one delicious thrust. 

There was a moment—the smallest space in time—where your eyes locked together and everything seemed to suspend; a strange perfect calm before a monumental storm. 

Then your world caught fire. 

Taehyung drove himself into you with passionate fury, letting years of denial fuel the insatiable rhythm of his strokes. 

Every time he told himself no. Every time he held himself back—

Every bit of it burned away as you screamed his name. 

The feel of him was indescribable. 

You imagined it too many times to count, yet your dreams fell pitifully short of the visceral reality. 

He was bloomin’ magnificent. 

Your fingers clawed up and down his back, desperate to hold on to something while he pounded into your g-spot like an animal. 

“This tiny cunt is the tightest thing I’ve ever had around my cock,” he gasped and you whined needily at his praise. “Like it was made for me—” his hand came up to grip your breast, “like you were made for me.”

“Yes—”

Taehyung’s need seemed to amplify with every whimper and moan that fell from your lips. The feelings you sparked in him were fierce and unapologetically primitive.

He would go to war for you—build a fortress for you—fight a dragon if one dared come close. 

You were his. 

And he felt like a savage every time you cried out for more. 

Suddenly an unexpected movement in his periphery caught his attention.

He’d been so consumed with the extraordinary rush of claiming you that he’d forgotten—

This guest room was thirty-five percent mirrors. 

And now… he couldn’t look away. 

The sight of your bodies tangling together in headless bliss played out before him like a scene from his most debauched and forbidden fantasies. His reflection grinned back at him in fascinated ecstasy while his beloved nemesis lost herself in the pleasure of his cock.

Something dark and wild began to burn in his chest as he studied the lovers in the glass. 

“Look at you, Angel,” he whispered softly, “you really are perfect.”

Then he pulled out of your core and you whined bitterly in protest, chasing his body to rid yourself of the sudden unacceptable emptiness. 

“Still so needy,” he taunted, gripping your hips and flipping you on your stomach before you could even think to protest.

“I want you to watch that pretty angel in the mirror come on my cock,” he groaned, plunging back into you from behind. 

The new angle was somehow impossibly deeper and your body shook as another wave of pleasure overtook it. 

Your fingers clawed into the mattress for purchase as he pistoned into your trembling mound. 

Only Kim Taehyung could rail you like a whore while he worshiped you like a queen. 

He gave you a moment to adjust before drawing your body back against his chest. His arm wrapped over your stomach as he slowly eased your legs apart, unfolding the lewd tableau of your bodies joined together for the voyeuristic gaze of the glass.   

“Look at yourself, Angel,” he growled, mesmerized by the way your breasts bounced with every thrust. “Look at how well you're taking me.” 

Then his fingers slid down to rub your clit and you screamed. 

“Tae! Ah-ahh!”

The pleasure building within you now was violent. You were coiling too tightly, too fast—

“That’s right Angel. Take it all.”

Your eyes locked with his in the mirror for the briefest instant.

And then you flew apart. 

Taehyung threw his head back with a carnal moan as you clamped down around him. His body was hurtling toward its own release with reckless speed. 

“I’m close,” he panted, “where can I come?”

“Come inside me please,” you begged, and Taehyung’s eyes widened in frenzied lust. 

“That’s what you want? Huh?” his thrusts became rougher as he chased his relief, “You want me to fill this puffy little pussy with my cum?”

“Yes, I want it so bad—“ you sobbed. 

“Sweet Angel,” he groaned, gripping at your breasts as he pulled you tighter against him. 

Then he met your gaze in the mirror again. 

“I want everything with you; a home—a family—your body in my arms every morning when I wake up—” his voice trembled, “I want it all.” 

The raw vulnerability in his eyes nearly broke you.

“Tae,” you gasped softly, too overcome with joy to manage anything else. 

His mouth pressed hungrily against the curve of your shoulder. You could feel his cock throbbing in your core as he bent you forward, pounding into your sex with exquisite precision. 

"Stay with me, Angel,” he whispered. His thrusts became erratic as he neared his high. “I don’t want to live without you anymore.”

The glorious thrill of his words tore over your senses with euphoric brutality. Your walls tightened greedily around his cock and the taunt cord of pleasure finally snapped. 

He came with a broken groan, flooding the welcoming heat of your womb with his release. 

“KIM TAEHYUNG!”

The sound of his name being shouted by the absolute last person in the world whose voice he wanted to hear woke Taehyung from a dead sleep.  

His eyes widened in panic as he began yanking pillows and covers from all over the bed in a frenzied attempt to hide—

The doors to his bedroom flew open with a resounding crash. 

“Jimin,” he squeaked, trying to look as casual as possible next to a giant pile of bedding. “What uh—what brings you here at—” his eyes darted to the clock on the wall, “—7:30 in the morning?”

Then he frowned. 

“And how the hell did you get past Jungkook?”

Jimin’s murderous expression broke momentarily to allow for a smug grin. 

“Kendra.”

Kendra Jackson was Jimin’s executive aide. She was fierce, capable, intelligent—

And insanely gorgeous. 

Taehyung groaned. 

Poor Jungkookie never stood a chance. 

To the surprise of absolutely no one, yet another newspaper landed on Taehyung’s lap.

KIM HEIR BRINGS NAUGHTY ANGEL HOME FOR CHRISTMAS

Underneath the headline was a picture of you and Taehyung (dressed in clothes you stole from Jin’s childhood bedroom) kissing passionately against the side entrance of the Governor’s mansion. 

One of your legs was wrapped around his waist and he was clearly grabbing your ass. 

“Ah… well you see the camera distorts everything from this angle—and-and the lighting is bad so it’s not really what it looks like—”

“Is that so? Cause it looks like you’ve got your tongue down my baby sister’s throat!”

“Okay—okay,” Taehyung massaged his forehead nervously, “so maybe it’s sort of what it looks like but—”

“I’ll kill you.”

“No wait—” he held up his hands to delay an already advancing Jimin. 

“Why should I wait?!”

“Because—”

“—I trusted you with the most important person in the world to me—”

“The situation is just not that simple.” 

“—and you grabbed her ass in public!”

“Admittedly not my finest hour.”

“So you tell me right now—”

“But you don’t understand it’s—”

“—Why the hell would I wait?!”

“BECAUSE I’M IN LOVE WITH HER!”

For a moment there was absolute silence. 

Then your head popped out from the massive pile of bedding. 

“Really?”

Jimin’s mouth fell open. 

Taehyung groaned again. 

“As usual, your timing is impeccable.”

You rolled your eyes, ignoring his comment.

“Are you really in love with me?”

“Of course I’m in love with you! What part of I want you to have my children did you not understand?!” 

“I think I’m gonna be sick,” Jimin choked. 

“That’s not the same thing!”

“It is for me!”

A radiant smile lit up your face. 

“I’m in love with you too.”

Taehyung’s expression softened. 

“Angel I—”

Then you were kissing and Jimin swung around with a horrified shout.

“Oh! No no no—Come on!”

He stumbled out of the room, hands firmly clamped over his eyes. 

“This is not over, Kim Taehyung!” the scandalized young Park heir howled in exasperation… but there was a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. 

Back in the bedroom, Taehyung shook his head at Jimin’s ridiculous caterwauling. 

“No, it’s not over,” he laughed, pulling you deeper into the comfort of his arms. “It’s only just begun.”

Thank you so much for taking the time to read my story. 

This baby took FOR-EVER to write. I started it in November and literally worked on it a little every day. 

If you enjoyed it— even just a tiny bit—please consider taking a moment to leave me some feedback. It is so incredibly uplifting and rewarding to hear reader thoughts and reactions to my work.

I promise to treasure every word like gold. It took a lot to bring this story to life. Your kind words would mean the world to me.