#like. no. no honey im not going to be controversial on main can we all just like our silly ship rb silly fanworks make silly fanworks .
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coming out as a passive jopper hater bc the insane level of capitalist pandering they did with s3 (with ERICA who is like. one of the worst, stereotyped portrayals of a black girl ive ever seen, bless her heart) was truly crazy. combine that with the copaganda and the general attitude of hopper in s3 which was played off as 'awkward loser guy doesnt know what to do with Feelings more at 8' was a bit .... Eh :/ to me. because it is so obviously a fictional character and show but like. disliking hopper/jopper bc of the ideals st is perpetuating and the fact that they arent compatible at All in s3 (to me, atleast) is valid. some ppl might just think that jopper is unhealthy and/or 'overrated'. because they do sort of pay a disproportionate amount of attention to jopper, compared to the other canon romantic ships (afaik, bc of the screen time counter) and that can be Weird, esp with the... how should i say this? balancer/savior role hopper takes in the relationship (we constantly see him placating joyce, sometimes even being slightly patronizing, and also they place a lot of importance on him saving joyce from a lot of stuff, which is cool and sick if it wasnt for the fact that it directly correlates with him being a cop, yk). and the general power imbalance bc he's a Cop and abuses his position of power constantly, and that is exactly Why anything that joyce does is seen as a #insane girlboss category 5 woman moment because she simply has the short stick in the power race and when she does manage to make an impact DESPITE her economic/social/'general uselessness in say in Major decision-making when it comes to authorities' shortcomings it is seen as an amazing win. hopper on his own is extremely fleshed out as well, because we get to see his arc play out with his relationships with his daughter and ex-wife and el and re-learning how to be a parent and how to not let love allude him, and that is lovely! it's so great to see the adults in the show being focused on! but joyce is absolutely disregarded and underdeveloped as a character of her own right outside of her relationships with hopper or her kids. we see that she is determined and a force to be reckoned with and that she cares very deeply for the people she loves and would go to insane lengths for them but all that doesn't Mean anything, because we never see a backstory for her. we never figure out who she is without her family or hopper, or what her motives and aspirations and emotional shortcomings and stumbles and mistakes are. for a character to be fully fleshed out, they need to be an interesting, refreshing and palatable character On Their Own without their relationships with other characters, and we just don't see that with joyce. like u have Thee winona ryder on ur show, and u forsake developing her character in favor of developing hopper's character with /not the best taste/ and causing her to be a blank slate of a mother, lover, woman and friend, but not a PERSON. all she's been reduced to is a Mother and Hopper's Girlfriend, and honestly, that's the worst decision they could've made in relation to her and her relationship with hopper.
anyway, all this to say; these are my thoughts on the matter, but i'm definitely not hating on people who enjoy jopper passively and DEFINITELY not any by/ler (the most predominant fandom im part of in the parent fandom of st) who enjoys them as a ship with their own dynamic separate from canon. because the by/ler fandom is NOT a monolith and nobody is obligated to agree with me or change their opinion if it doesn't align with mine or be forced to look at my opinion and feel bad for shipping anything. im not going to act Holier Than Thou for expressing my opinion and u should definitely continue shipping jopper if it makes u happy! as long everybody recognizes the copaganda and capitalist mindset grind propaganda shit in st (which is Pretty Obvious) and respects that while shipping what they want, i have no problem with it. all that is to say; peace and fucking love. can we (the by/ler fandom) stop fighting abt jopper we all have our own opinions this is bc we are Not a hivemind or a monolith and not obligated to have the same opinions relating to all aspects of st just because we happen to ship one thing. i am a hater and a lover
#anti jopper#<- i dont want the shippers to see a Big Ass Crit Post of their ship its not fair to them they ain't disturbing us. so stfu and let me be.#everyone who's ever talked to me outside of tumblr knows i have a strict no discourse no outright hating policy on this blog bc i wanna#remain a positive space in the st fandom. and this is the one and only time i'll be posting abt smth i dont like.#i am a MASSIVE hater abt st and other things as well. i am SUCH a petty bitch. but i want this blog to stay a sunshine rainbows place!#bc discourse is generally upsetting for everyone involved and the One Time i actually went hatergirl on here i got several death threats.#so respect that i will Not be speaking on this or anything else more ty bc ive had anons try to ask me for my Big Bad Opinions before and#like. no. no honey im not going to be controversial on main can we all just like our silly ship rb silly fanworks make silly fanworks .#anyway i do feel pretty passionate abt this so im making this a post but like. NOTHING ELSE. dont send me asks trying to ask for my opinion#unless i specifically ask for them. ok thx :) if u've read till here ur a real one and ily !#stranger things (sara's version)
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âthe (un)holy cock-up (m.)
â¶Â pairing: park jimin/reader
ⶠgenre: smut, angstÂ
ⶠword count: 14.5k
ⶠwarnings: explicit sexual content, oral sex (m receiving), dirty talk, profanity, unnecessary amount of biblical puns, some critic on catholic church, this is a heavy read be aware
ⶠsummary: there is a quite long list of circumstances, with student loan and rent on the very top of it, that led you to work in the sundayâs spirit editorial department, a newspaper overally known among fellow catholic community of busan, with park jimin as your boss.
when your small cock-up goes unnoticeably out of your hand, you find yourself in a situation painted in all shades of wrong.
or, alternatively: when itâs forbidden, it tastes bittersweet.
a/n: please, before you read this: take the warnings seriously. this is not a light read, it touches some heavy and quite controversial topics. tit also involves a scene where a person in charge exhibits inappropriate behavior towards their subordinate which I do not condone, however itâs all done with consent.
ps. im really proud of this work so give me some love please:(
Fingertips typing furiously on the keyboards, sights focused on the computersâ screens, brows furrowed, minds utterly concentrated and all of this accompanied by angelic voices of various religious songs playing in the background.
This is how a typical day at Sundayâs Spirit editorial department goes by.
The newspaper is a local source of information for the catholic community not only in the city of Busan, but in the whole country. Its history starts in 70s, when Park Min-Sung with his wife started publishing the very first version of the Sundayâs Spirit, selling copies in front of churches. Young activists definitely hadnât anticipated such a big success, especially due to hard times of the military dictatorship in Korea, but two decades later they have become one of the most affluent families in Busan. The newspaper remains the Parkâs legacy till these days, being owned by Min-Sungâs son, with the original founderâs grandson Jimin as an editor-in-chief.
Sometimes you ponder how did you end up in this kind of situation. Sitting at your desk with eyes glued to the screen, working for the catholic newspaper with Mary did you know and other holy songs playing from the Spotifyâs Blessed Hits playlist.
First of all, you arenât quite a Jesus stan yourself. Not a regular churchgoer, Bible reader or a person who lives according to Godâs will with Ten Commandments written on your heart and soul.
Someone may wonder, what a young, aspiring journalist like you is doing here? Yes, thatâs right.
Money is the reason.
The perspectives of wealthy life as a presenter in the national television or a host in the radio were just a mirage, because after receiving your master degree in journalism you realised that, unfortunately, a bright future was bright only in your unreal dreams.
The case was simple. You needed money. Your bank account was literally screaming at you to get your shit together and figure something out before you end up under the bridge. So you started searching for a job, looking over various offers on the Internet for two weeks straight. A waitress? Nah, too clumsy for that. Jewelry seller? Definitely not, since you are a happy owner of a few pairs of earrings from etsy-like online shop that certainly have nothing to do with real gold. You were almost convinced youâre destined to be a sexworker but then you stumbled upon an offer from the Sundayâs Spirit.
It was your chance. A God himself decided to take pity on you.
In that exact moment the genre of the newspaper wasnât important. The vision of bankruptcy was enough for you to wear knee-length black skirt, white button-up shirt and a pair of high heels youâve never worn before and go on a job interview with plastered smile on your face, looking delightful like you have just given birth to Jesus Christ in Bethlehem.
All the Hollywood actresses could be put into shame after your Oscar-winning performance you acted out on the interview in front of middle-aged woman in checked jacket that no one wears since 90s. Your enthusiasm and assurance you live good, catholic womanâs life, along with your master degree and motivational letter (you added a quote from The Letter to Philipians at the end of it to spice it up) was enough to be accepted for the position of Ask and you shall find column creator.
The job itself wasnât complex or tough. The newspaper on its online site has a page where people can create an account and send asks to the author of the column who responds to them. You did something wrong and you arenât sure it should be considered a sin? Having problems with regular praying on mornings and evenings? Write to us and we will solemnly help you with the Godâs blessing, it says.
This is basically how it works. Each week, the said journalist chooses the most interesting questions and answers to make an article to the Sundayâs Spiritâs next publication. Of course, you canât answer those questions the way you would like. You must do it according to the catholic laws and Godâs plan (the True Godâs plan, not Drakeâs). A woman who interviewed you even gave you a notebook full of already made-up responses and a list of things you definetely mustnât write if you still want to be employed.
To be completely frank, you donât hate your job that much. You actually feel kind of nice, helping other people with their problems. Youâve been doing this for six months now and during this period of time you got used to some things.
A âJesus, I trust youâ framed picture you swore your mother gave you on your 16th birthday standing on your desk. Holy beats blasting through the speakers until you leave the office at 5pm. A big-ass cross hanging right in front of the entrance to the editorial. Lee Chin-sun, the Weekly News column author, rushing to Park Jiminâs bureau every day at different hours in her pencil skirts and high heels knocking on the floor.
Thereâs only the Pentecost in the middle of the office that could actually surprise you.
âLooks like our Mary Magdalene is going to Jesus cave again,â mutters Kim Taehyung, the newspaperâs main photographer, friend from your desk and, actually, the only friend you have here. Very much gay and just like you, in desperate need for money. âItâs her third visit today. I wonder what it is this time. New prayer to Pope Francis she found?â he whispers and you chuckle at that quietly, looking around if anyone pays attention to your conversation, but everyone seems busy doing their own stuff. âMaybe sheâs sucking his dick right now and we all think they are playing Who said it? Bible edition,â he adds in a hushed tone.
You start thinking about it for a while. Is that really possible for someone like Park Jimin, the editor-in-chief of the Sundayâs Spirit to have a sexual relationship with his coworker? The man who has a smaller version of PietĂ in his office?
âI mean look at him. I would smash that ass too.â
You roll your eyes at Taehyung words, going back to your previous task but every time you try to concentrate, the face of your boss appears in front of your eyes uncontrollably.
Truth to be told, Park Jimin was a sight.
Blond hair, always perfectly styled and simply parted in the middle, revealing his forehead. Dark, sharp eyes that seem to pierce right through your soul and full, plump lips which could only be described as kissable.
He wears only high fashion brands, wandering through the office in Prada and Tom Ford suits that hugs his sculpted body just right. You think that as for a person who never misses Sundayâs mass, Park Jimin has also nice thighs. And a fine piece of ass, as Taehyung would describe it.
Newest Rolex that costs probably more than you will ever earn in your entire life on his wrist, Mercedes who just got brought out to the international market standing on his parking spot in front of the building, an apartment in the most luxurious area in Busan.
Park Jimin inhales Godâs mercy and exhales money.
You spoke to him more explicitly only once, on your first day at work. He greeted you and wished good luck, saying that everything will be fine because you know, Godâs good. Since that day, Park Jimin seems out of your reach. You contact him only through email, sending articles for him to check and approve, occasionally receiving some short message from him to improve this and that. He rarely leaves his office during working hours but when he does, itâs either for business meetings outside the editorial or for a lunch at nearby restaurant.
Thereâs also one, special occasion, every Friday, thatâs a sacred time for all the employees. The clock hits 12am and so it begins. The angelic voices stop singing and everybody shifts on their sits.
âOh, Holy Judas. I almost forgot about my favourite part of the week,â Taehyung sighs, standing up from his desk. And by that, he means-
âFridayâs Bible contemplation lunch break, everyone please gather up at the cafeteria.â Park Jiminâs sweet as honey voice says through the speakers.
You stand up from your chair with reluctance. Taking food with you, you go to the cafeteria, following Taehyung.
Thatâs actually the next thing you got used to while working at Sundayâs Spirit. Bible contemplation meetings are, as you found out from Taehyung, Jiminâs idea after he became an editor-in-chief almost one year ago. Every Friday all the workers sit together, eat their lunches and listen to Jimin as he reads a certain chapter from the book with true admiration written on their faces. After that, he usually asks some questions holding a discussion among the participants who, unlike you, happily takes part in.
The cafeteria looks rather normal, like any other lunchrooms you see in offices. Painted in bright yellow colors, with a few tables and a typical kitchen set in the back. Except for one thing.
A replica of Leonardo da Vinciâs The Last Supper hanging on the wall.
You decided a long time ago that you donât want to know how much money it cost Jimin to have something like that here.
The newspaperâs workers, almost like the twelve Apostles, sit together by the tables. Lee Chin-sun at the very front, looking completely mesmerized by todayâs Park Jiminâs appearance. Heâs wearing navy blue suit that Taehyung swears itâs from Hugo Boss. The place next to Chin-sun is always occupied by tall, black-haired guy named Choi Eunwoo, main graphic designer, hopelessly in love with her since his first days at work. Behind them thereâs a group from emendation department, with their leader Min Yoongi and other journalists. You always sit with Taehyung at the back, near the kitchen, not necessarily paying attention to whatâs happening in the front.
Jimin, as on every Friday, walks to the small podium, designed to look like a pulpit in the church and opens the Bible. But one thing is odd: Jimin ainât no priest or altar boy himself and he certainly dosenât look like one, flipping through the pages of what you think itâs New Testament this time.
From your point of view, you could practically see how Chin-sun sighs with content expression on her face, lacing her fingers together on the lap and straightening her back. Eunwoo, on the other hand, shifts uncomfortably on his seat, sending Chin-sun quick glances full of unspoken longing she never acknowledges, to his dismay.
Then, Park Jimin clears his throat and the whole cafeteria goes quiet.
Truth to be told, you never really listen to what heâs reading. This time is no different. You just chew on your avocado sandwich, occasionally taking a sip of coffee. Your bossâ smooth voice reaches your ears faintly but you donât pay attention to it, focusing on eating and Taehyungâs hushed rumbling instead.
âLook at our Mary Magdalene, she looks like she might burst a nut just by listening to CEO Jesus,â he says, making you peek at the girl.
Mary Magdalene is a nickname that Taehyung made up for Chin-sun when he started working at Sundayâs Spirit, mainly because of her attitude and relationship with Jimin. Itâs rather platonic, at least for now. She looks at him with pure admiration on her face and she literally melts everytime he smiles at her. But Chin-sunâs âstalkingâ isnât unreasonable. Her father is a well-known philanthropist in Busan. He donates catholic charities, churches and, whatâs the most interesting â he has some connections with Jiminâs father, the owner of Sundayâs Spirit.
And hereâs the thing: Chin-sunâs hare and hounds definitely have some hidden reason. Maybe the whole marriage thing that has become a gossip in the office is true. Which makes poor Eunwooâs situation even worse.
âSometimes I wonder why has he fallen in love with her in first place,â you whisper, pointing at the graphic designer. âHe knows he stands no chance against Jimin.â
âWhat can I say, you canât help who you fall in love with.â Taehyung muses almost poetically, shrugging his shoulders.
You hum at that, placing your coffee cup on the table and looking around the cafeteria. It seems like Jimin has ended his reading session for today and now he invites everyone to join the discussion about the topic. He flashes Chin-sun a gentle smile and you could swear the girl is biting her lip.
On the corner of your eye you see Taehyung smirking.
âWhat?â you ask.
Taehyung takes a sip of his coffee lazily (itâs always caramel macchiato), peering at Jimin. âOh, nothing. I was just wondering if our boss really wants to settle not only with Chin-sun, but anyone in general,â he says languidly.
You furrow your brows. âWhat makes you think that? I mean, look at him. He probably waits with sex till marriage.â you snort.
Taehyung chuckles at your words. âAh, sweetheart, you really know nothing about Park Jimin.â
âWhat do you mean?â
He moves closer to you, leaning towards your ear. âWhat I mean,â he whispers, âis that Park Jimin isnât such a prude everyone thinks he is. At least he didnât use to be.â
You raise your eyebrows at him with disbelief. âWhat? Heâs secretly gay?â you mock.
Taehyung rolls his eyes. âI wish, but no, he isnât,â he answers with a sigh. âDo you know Min Yoongi from emendation team?â he then asks, pointing at grey-haired man with feline eyes sitting behind Chin-sun.
You nodd your head. Min Yoongi is a hard to read guy. Always suspiciously silent, practically never leaves his office. Something makes you wonder how did Taehyung end up befriending him enough to casually gossip about the boss. You will ask him about this on another occasion.
âSo hereâs the thing,â Taehyung begins, lowering the volume of his voice. âHe used to study at the same university in Seoul with Jimin. They even had been together in the fraternity. Yoongi-hyung told me some juicy details about our bossâ life back then.â
You frown at his words. âAnd you are telling me this now?!â you hiss.
âI found out literally two days ago!â Taehyung exclaims, maybe a little too loud, so you quickly place your index finger on your lips, shushing him.
âFine. Continue.â you whisper, looking around to see if anyone pays attention to you.
âWell, Park Jimin used to be a trouble back then. A golden boy of his family in Busan, but a campus fuckboy and obnoxious heartbreaker in Seoul. He smoked cigarettes, drank enormous amounts of alcohol, got wasted on every weekend, missed classes and changed hair colors as often as his girlfriends. By the way, donât you think he would slay pink hair?â
âTaehyung can you pleaseââ
âOkay, okay. Enough thirsting over Jimesus. So, as you can see, there was no place for Sundayâs mass and Bible contemplation meetings in his life. And hereâs the awaited plotwist. His parents somehow found out his son wasnât living good catholic life on his studies and got extremely pissed off. They simply gave him an ultimatum: if he doesnât stop his shenanigans, they will cut him off their money and they wonât make him Sundayâs Spirit heir.â Taehyung stops his rumbling for a while, letting you proceed all the bewildering informations about your dear boss he has just revealed.
Your eyes simply widen at the revelations.
Park Jimin, the man who organises Bible contemplation lunch breaks, a regular churchgoer, someone who you always thought has a cross tattooed on his back, was a playboy who slept with a half of the female community in the university?
Interesting.
âRest of the story is simple. He changed his behavior, got a master degree in journalism and came back to Busan to work here. What is funny, his first position was the same as yours now,â Taehyung ends his story with a light chuckle. âNow you understand why itâs hard for me to believe he really thinks about getting married and having at least three kids.â
You look up at Park Jimin, whoâs standing now in the centre of the cafeteria, with his arms crossed over his chest, nodding at one of the journalists words. His gaze is so intense and filled with such an authority that makes you understand why Chin-sun literally squirms when he looks at her that way.
Itâs not hard for you to imagine him in much different surroundings.
Him, standing with a cup of beer in his hand in the middle of the crowd of drunken people at some frat party. Thereâs a leather jacket on his shoulders and heâs wearing tight-fitting pants that hugs his gorgeous thighs much better than his usual slacks he puts on every day before he sets off to work. He scans the room with a mishevious smirk dancing on his features, biting and licking his lips as he looks for his prey for tonight.
He then spots her, his pick for the night. He runs his fingers through his silky locks and approaches the girl, whispering dirty promises to her ear as he sways their bodies to the rhythm of loud music blasting through the speakers. Later that night he has her underneath him, begging him to touch her. He fucks her hard, leaving bruises all over her limp, exhausted body. There will be soreness between her thighs in the morning and a few violet love bites on her neck, a gentle reminder that all of this wasnât just a dream.
But thereâs no warm body next to her she could wake up to, no âgood morning, babyâ or a second round of love making between the sheets. Because Park Jimin isnât like that. He waited until her breath slowed down and eyelids fluttered shut, drifting her off to sleep. He left in the middle of the night, a cigarette caught between his swollen from kisses lips. He fumed the poison and smiled to himself, wondering what his parents would think when they found out. A golden boy of his family, future heir of the Parkâs legacy, coming back from one of his sexcapeds with girl which name he didnât even remember.
The Lord himself must have already cursed him and heâs currently planning the punishments for him in depths of Hell. But does Park Jimin look like he really care?
You stare blankly ahead, imagining those scenes in your head. You canât help but squeeze your thighs because God, yes, Park Jimin is hot, even if he reads Breviary before he goes to sleep. What a shame he has changed.Â
A smooth like honey voice pulls you out from your airy-fairy slumber.
âMiss Y/N?â
You jolt in panic after hearing your name, glancing around and praying that wasnât the person you think it was. But this silky, melodious voice you would recognize everywhere.
God hates you though, he knows what kind of scandalous things you were daydreaming about and now itâs his time to punish you.
Looking up, your gaze settles on no one other than Park Jimin, who stares at you with his left eyebrow raised, pursing his lips. He extinguishes the aura of pure dominance around him and you involuntarily blush, squirming under his intense glare. Youâre royally screwed.
You clear your throat, trying to calm down rapidly beating heart. Without success.
âYes, sir?â you manage to answer innocently. Certainly not like you werenât thinking about being fucked by him minutes ago. You donât even have time to be surprised he remembers your name.
Park Jimin looks unamazed by your sweet tone; he almost seems bored, but definitely irritated. âI asked you a question and Iâm waiting for your response.â he says lowly.
Fuckfuckfuck. God have mercy on you. What was the question? Shit, you donât even know what fragment he had read before.
In act of complete desperation you elbow Taehyung for help but this little shit pretends he has no idea whatâs going on, looking at The Last Supper with sudden interest.
You are purely, loyally, utterly fucked.
You adopt the most charming smile you could muster, knowing that it will have zero affect on Park Jimin and ask, âCould you repeat the question one more time, sir? Iâm afraid I didnât hear you correctly.â Jesus, when has your voice become so high-pitched?
A cruel smirks forms on Park Jiminâs lips. He shakes his head, tsking. Taehyung mutters something under his breath that sounds dangerously close to âIt was nice meeting you, sweetheart.â You gulp, waiting for your sentence and hoping Pontius Pilate will be gracious to you.
âMy, my,â Jimin muses. It makes you feel like a little girl being scolded by the teacher due to her outrageous behavior. You bite your lip so hard you might draw blood, waiting for your bossâ next words. âOf course you didnât hear my question, because you werenât paying attention to our discussion.â
In the corner of your eye you see Chin-sun shaking her head with detestation. What a bitch, you think to yourself.
You take a deep breath then, nails digging crescent moons on the skin of your palms. You donât like being in the spotlight, you never did, but now you have no choice but face the consequences. âMy deepest apologies, sir. The behavior I exhibited was highly inappropriate,â you say, bowing your head. Jimin eyes your figure from head to toe and you might actually feel his burning gaze on your skin. Your cheeks flush in crimson even more.
The editor-in-chief seems to deliberate with himself for a while, turning his head slightly to the side, not breaking the eye contact with you. Finally, after a moment that seems to last an hour, he speaks.
âI think you need a lesson that will teach you to pay attention to our weekly discussions, miss Y/N. Thatâs why I want you to write a 4000 words long paper about the role of Mary Magdalene in Jesus Christâs life which we had discussed today but you, unfortunately, didnât acknowledge it.â
You freeze. Like a scene in the movie, everything stops. The embarassement you felt earlier is quickly replaced by pure anger and irritation. He wants you to write a fucking paper? What is this? University lectures?
Never before in your entire life have you felt so humiliated. All eyes are on you; you could practically sense how they are trying not to laugh out loud. Eunwoo and Taehyung look at you with apologetic faces while Chin-sun smirks, whispering something to Jiminâs ear.
âI apologize once again, sir,â you grit through your teeth with a forced smile. Jimin nods then, not even bothering to look at you again. Youâre dismissed, thatâs what his behavior is saying.
âOur meeting is over, you can go back to your work.â Jimin announces and walks away from the cafeteria with Chin-sun by his side.
You wait for everyone to leave and the you let out a groan of annoyance, burring your head in your hands.
âHey, it could have been worse. He didnât fire you after all.â Taehyung laughs but he quickly shuts up as soon as he sees your glare. You stand up from your chair with a scowl written all over your face, and storm out of the lunchroom.
And may the God help you.
Later that unfortunate day, you sit by your desk again, scrolling through the Ask and you shall find page absentmindedly and waiting for the new asks to come. Everyone has returned to their work like nothing has happened but it doesnât stop you from feeling all those eyes constantly on your back. Maybe you werenât fired but the humiliation and embarrassment of being told off by your boss publicly makes you want to disappear and never show up at the editorial again.
âY/N,â Taehyungâs deep voice pulls you out of your thoughts. You look up at him and find the man smiling at you lightly. Heâs wearing a long, camel coat and a big scarf around his neck with ridiculous patterns that reminds you of Persian diwans. He places his black camera bag on the desk, which means heâs leaving the office. âIâm free of office work for today so I just wanted to say goodbye.â he explains and you just nod.
âBye, Taehyung. See you on Monday.â you say maybe a little bit to wryly and he feels that, letting out a long sigh.
Taehyung seems to deliberate with himself for a moment before he decides to speak again. He clears his throat audibly. âAnd I, uhm, Iâm sorry. Itâs my fault that you are in this situation. I started this conversation and I should be the one writing this stupid paper for Mister Prude.â
You canât help but chuckle at the new nickname Taehyung gave Jimin. The anger you felt before drifts away from you slowly, and you smile at your friend apologetically. âOh, God, Tae. Iâm such a bitch sometimes, sorry,â you blurt out.âIâm not mad at you, Iâm mad at him. Besides, maybe thatâs good Iâve got homework. I donât remember when was the last time I wrote some-â
Your words are interrupted by a loud laugh that resonates through the office. You look in the direction of the voice just to see Chin-sun with her manicured hand on Jiminâs chest, throwing her head back from the laughter, too dramatically for your taste. She seems to have changed her clothes, a black pencil skirt long forgotten and replaced by a red, bodycon dress. Her dark hair is also styled differently, curled and loose. She looks beautiful, matching Jiminâs appearance perfectly.
âWhere are they going?â Taehyung whispers to you, furrowing his brows. You shrug your shoulders, tearing your eyes of Chin-sun and Jimin. âMaybe our Mary Magdaleneâs plan to win Jesusâ heart is working. Poor Eunwoo,â he sighs, looking at his watch to check the time. âAnyway, I gotta go. I have to drive all the way to some shithole near the city to take photos of an old lady who swears she saw saint Francis or other dude with halo speaking to her,â he grumbles and you giggle at his words. âGood luck with your paper, sweetheart.â he leans and places a small peck on your cheek.
âBye, Tae.â you say, watching him leave the office right after Jimin and Chin-sun.
You let out a long, tired sigh, counting the time to leave the office and finally be back home, with a bottle of red wine and new season of Game of Thrones that are waiting for you to watch the whole week. Then, when youâre about to stand up and make yourself another coffee, a new ask pops up in your inbox with the title âSex S.O.Sâ.
You raise your eyebrows because honestly, what kind of title is this? Curiosity wins the battle with a hot cup of an americano and you click the show more button. You put on your prescription glasses and start reading.
Dear Sundayâs Spirit editorial,
My name is Kang Seoyeon. I study medicine at the University of Seoul, Iâve got an amazing group of friends and a loving boyfriend. And hereâs where the actual problem begins. Iâm from the catholic family with long traditions, and as you can guess, he isnât.
Weâve been together for almost 2 years now and since my parents donât want me to live with him before the marriage, thereâs also no sexual life between us. I was actually surprised they agreed I can date a non-religious person in first place, so the rules werenât that horrible at the beginning.
My boyfriend always seemed to be understanding about the fact that Iâm catholic and he has never had issues against it because I stated this on the start of our relationship, but lately⊠heâs been distant. We meet up less often and I feel like simple kissing after 2 years isnât enough for him. I even thought about initiating something that wouldnât necessarily involve the real intercourse but Iâm too inexperienced and shy for that. We are slowly drifting apart.
I donât know what to do. I love him so much and I donât want to lose him just because of some stupid rules I need to follow. Iâm scared he will leave me for some other beautiful girl who wouldnât have anything against sleeping with him, especially after considering the fact that he isnât virgin unlike me and he experienced this kind of pleasure before.
I hope you will help me.
Yours faithfully,
Kang Seoyeon.
You blink once, twice. Read the message again and then, something snaps in you.
To Hell with these stupid, old-fashioned rules straight from the Middle Ages. To Hell with celibacy till marriage, masturbation prohibition and living according to Godâs will. To Hell with Park Jimin and his ridiculous moral code (and his Bible contemplation lunchbreaks).
Unofficial eleventh commandment: If a girl wants a dick, she deserves to have it.
And thatâs exactly what your response to the girl is in a nutshell.
Your blood boils in your veins with anger as youâre typing furiously on the keyboard, not even bothering to check if your sudden outburst makes any sense.
Dear Seoyeon,
Itâs Y/N here, the journalist who you wrote this message to.
I donât know what kind of response are you expecting from me but honestly? If you think Iâm going to recommend you some praying to Saint Rita then youâre wrong. Iâm done with this shit.
Let me make this straight: if you want to fuck your boyfriend, do it. Maybe God wouldnât approve that but donât worry, he wonât send you to hell because of some dick in your pussy.
They are plenty of worse things in this world than having sex with the person you love. Look at me. Iâm literally writing to catholic newspaper while using words like âGodâ and âFuckâ in the same sentence. And thatâs not even a small piece of what Iâve done in my life.
So you go girl, suck your boyfriend off. Make him beg. He will never leave you after this. You have my blessings and Jesus is giving you metaphysical thumbs up from above. Sex is amazing thing and you donât have to wait for it until you say âyesâ in front of some guy in black cassock. Just go with the flow.
 May the God help you!
Love, Y/N.
P.S. Watch out that guy. He seems suspicious. If heâs been really sex deprived for two years he will die after you give him a head.
Sent.
You exhale loudly, staring at the screen. You did that. Six months into working in Sundayâs Spirit and the time when you lost your temper has finally come. You should probably feel ashamed or have some type of conscience pangs but actually you arenât even near this state.
Grinning to yourself, you delete the message you had sent to the girl from your inbox and check the time. Itâs almost 5pm and it looks like you havenât even realised youâre the only person at the office right now. Since itâs Friday and Jimin has already left, seems like everyone has decided to set off earlier too.
You turn off your computer, packing your things to the bag. Wrapping a scarf around your neck tightly, you leave the building, welcoming the coolness of the early Spring evening in Busan.
When youâre about to cross the street, your phone buzzes in the pocket of your coat. You stop for a moment, smiling to yourself when you read the message.
[04:23pm] from Tae: hey
[04:23pm] from Tae: i know you are probably planning an evening with mary magdalene n jesus but
[04:23pm] from Tae: wouldnt u want to go for drinks with me tonight?
[04:23pm] from Tae: same place as usual
[04:24pm] from Tae: as a wise man once said: nothing helps better for the writerâs block than vodka
[04:24pm] from Tae: so what do u say?
You donât need to think twice when you quickly type a response. Game of Thrones and wine can wait till another time.
[04:26pm] from me: how could i say no to kim taehyung and vodka?
[04:26pm] from me: see u there
Kimâs is a place like no one other in Busan.
You wouldnât even know about its existence if it wasnât Taehyung who took you there first when you started working at Sundayâs Spirit, solemnly promising free drinks. Who would you be if you didnât agree to that?
When you arrived at the bar, it eventually turned out the alcohol was costless hence itâs his family business since over thirty years and his brother Namjoon is a bartender, not because Taehyung willingly decided to pay for you.
Kimâs is located in rather industrial part of the city, sandwiched between factories and huge housing estates, not looking really inviting at first glance, but the place has its own, unique charm. There are some stories, shrouding the buildingâs history in mystery. Some people say it used to be headquarters of the most dangerous mafia in Busan, some even believe it served as the secret arsenal during the Korean War.
But whatâs definitely true, itâs the fact that Taehyungâs parents bought this place in swinging times of 80s for a small amount of money and turned the place into disco bar which had become a must-go spot for young people in Busan.
Kimâs on the outside, with its large red neon sign hanging above the entrance, looks more like a night club than a bar, but on the inside the magic of kitschy 80s still remains the same (Taehyung swears retro is in fashion these days and thatâs why he didnât let his parents redecorate when they wanted to).
You always feel like youâre traveling back in time when you visist Kimâs.
The place is quite big, with a large dancefloor in the middle and red leather sofas strewn around the place along with the tables. Walls are made of brick and colorful, vibrant neon lights are shimmering on them. Oh, not to mention the huge disco ball on the ceiling. Everything accompanied with the quality music provided by Namjoon.
There are few billiard and foosball tables in the corner of the bar, always occupied by the same group of middle-aged men on weekdays and university students on weekends. But the thing that attract attention of the customers the most, is the bar with Namjoon behind it.
When you enter the place, you spot Taehyung and his blond mop of hair immediately. He sits on one of the bar stools, talking to his older brother. Heâs wearing beige pants and floral button-up shirt that seems to match colors with his pinkish-looking drink he holds. You notice a new pair of sapphire earrings and a huge ring from the same collection on his forefinger. Classy, as always.
Taehyung grins broadly when he sees you. He puts his drink on the counter and stands up to greet you. His breath smells like strawberries and vodka when he leans to place his usual, small peck on your cheek. âHi, sweetheart,â he says with his signature smirk plastered on his face, scanning your figure. âYou look gorgeous. Last time you did this kind of make-up you wanted to get laid.â
You rolls your eyes at his words, sitting on a stool next to him. âHi, Taehyung. Thank you for appreciating my efforts to look like a decent human being but no, Iâm not planning on getting laid tonight.â you answer, waving to Namjoon who makes drinks for a group of girls a few meters from you. He smiles bashfully at you, showing his dimples.
âIâm not saying you want a fuck, calm down. I just assumed since itâs not everyday that you put eyeliner on,â Taehyung explains himself. âSo let me do that again,â He takes a deep breath, placing a hand on his chest in a dramatic manner. âY/N, you look absolutely breathtaking. I could stare at you for hours and I wouldnât mind that even a bit. My homosexuality is at risk right now.â
You ignore his exeggarated outburst, rolling your eyes. âIâm not using eyeliner everyday because thereâs something called dresscode in our work, you know?â you say. âBesides, my mum says you should look good on every occasion because you donât know when you will meet the love of your life.â
Taehyung puts a hand on his heart and sighs with relief. âThank God I always look good.â
You chuckle and then your eyes wander for a moment to Namjoon, who seems busy listening to whatever the pink-haired girl is telling him with polite smile on his face.
âHere,â Taehyung nudges your side, bringing your attention back to him. He hands you the same pinkish drink as he was drinking when you arrived. âHyung told me itâs their new specialty or something. Itâs called Flamingoâs Beach,â he says and you take the glass in your hand. âI have no idea what Namjoonie-hyung put here but as long as it looks good, itâs good. Cheers!â Taehyung sips his one and watches you with raised eyebrows as youâre taking a generous gulp of the drink. âAndâŠ?â he asks.
You lick your lips, humming to yourself. âNot bad. Tastes like strawberries.â
Taehyung opens his mouth to say something but he gets interrupted by his brother. âY/N, hi. How are you?â Namjoon approaches you with two beer mugs in his hands.
His hair is back to his natural brown color now, purple strands long forgotten since the last time you saw him. It looks like heâs been working out lately, his posture more bulky and it makes his black shirt stick to his body tightly. Namjoonâs good-looking, you always knew that, but he seems to be even more handsome now.
âHey, Iâve been good, thank you,â you greet him with maybe too much enthusiasm for your liking. You always had a weak spot for him. âHowâs the bar going?â you ask.
âBusy, as you can see,â he replies, chuckling to himself. âI would love to talk to you more but I have some work to do in back room, soâŠâ Namjoon trails off sheepishly, rubbing the back of his head with his hand.
âOh, itâs okay. We can catch up another time.â You smile at him and you could swear his cheeks flushed.
âIâll be going. See you.â Namjoon stammers out, not even waiting for your response before he disappears from your sight.
The pregnant silence sets in between you and Taehyung, something heavy hangs in the air and you feel it, tapping your fingers on the counter to the rhythm of one of the ABBA songs, waiting impatiently.
Taehyung looks like heâs debating with himself in his head. You narrow your eyes. Heâs adopted a face you know pretty well, too well even. He looks everywhere but keep avoiding your gaze. He wants to ask you something, youâre sure of it, but he doesnât know how.
Finally, after a moment of awkward quietness, Taehyung finally opens his mouth. âSo, hereâs the thing,â he starts and you wait for the bomb to drop.
Last time when he approached you like that, he asked you if you would be down for a threesome with him and some guy he met on Tinder. Your eyes almost popped out of your head when you heard his blunt proposition. You were eating lunch at cafeteria and the words casually slipped from between his lips as he chewed on his egg sandwich, like he didnât just propose you having sex with him and instead asked for a lift to home after work.
Taehyung begged you for a whole week, pleading and convincing itâll be fun. When you eventually agreed (sex draught make people do stupid things), the other guy didnât show up. You ended up drinking tequila shots with Taehyung that night in his apartment, and you canât quite recall how it happened, but somehow you found yourself unzipping your friendâs pants and the rest is history. He passed out right after he came. Now when you think about it, you feel a sudden urge to ask him if he remembers that.
You will do it next time, you promise yourself.
Taehyung though doesnât ask you about having a threesome or robbing Park Jiminâs house this time. His intentions are pretty much different.
âSee, Namjoon split up with his girlfriend few weeks ago,â he says and you prick your ears. âHeâs not in good condition right now, as you can see. It was a nasty break up, he found out sheâs been cheating on him,â He lets out a long sigh. You bite your lip, imagining Namjoonâs disappointed face when he discovered the truth. What a bitch cheats on someone like him? âSo, I thought maybe you could⊠cheer him up a little bit?â Taehyung ends hesitantly, with a glint of hope in his eyes.
You frown. Cheer him up? Did he just imply what you think about?
âLook, I get it, heâs sad and angry, but what the fuck, Taehyung? What do you want me to do? Do you want me to be his rebound? Make him forget?â you exclaim. Taehyung quickly shakes his head but you donât let him say anything. âI feel sorry for Namjoon but Iâm not going to take advantage of him when heâs literally still hurt.â
âNo, itâs not like that!â Taehyung rushes to explain. âWell, maybe it sounded like that but I swear, I didnât mean that!â
âThen what should I do? Wipe his tears? Tell him a joke? Or maybe-â
âOf course he wants you to suck his brotherâs heartbroken dick, doll.â
A sudden, low voice interrupts your conversation. Your eyes follow the direction when it comes from, looking to Taehyungâs left where not even a meter away a very familiar grey-haired man with feline eyes sits.
âMin Yoongi,â you say matter-of-factly.
The leader of emendation team from Sundayâs Spirit editorial raises his hand in which he holds whiskey, greeting you and Taehyung. âHello, doll. Hello, Taehyung,â he says, not even bothering to look at you.
You elbow Taehyung searching for explanation but he shrugs his shoulders, turning to face the man as well.
âFirst of all, since when do you call me âdollâ? We have never spoken a word to each other. Secondly, how long have you been sitting here and listening?â you ask Yoongi.
He snorts, smirking. âLong enough to know how Taehyung comforts his brother after break up.â he simply answers and Taehyungâs cheeks blush in crimson at his words.
âYou come here often? Iâve never seen you here before,â you continue, crossing your arms over chest.
Next to you Taehyung lets out a sigh. âYes, he does. Albeit I havenât seen him for a while here,â You look at him in confusion. âYoongi-hyung is Namjoonie-hyung close friend from university days.â he clarifies.
You raise your eyebrows at that. âSo Namjoon went to the same school as Park Jimin?â
âNot the same. We met under different circumstances.â Yoongi cuts in.
âTheyâve been together in underground rap group, or some shit. Didnât like each other at first but eventually stuck together till the end of studies.â Taehyung ends and grey-haired man nods.
You canât help but chuckle at that.
âWhatâs funny in that?â Yoongi scowls.
âNothing. I just imagined you and Namjoon in snapbacks, rapping about the unfairness of social hierarchy,â you say, grinning at him.
âWell, you may believe me or not, but we even made a mixtape.â Yoongi reveals proudly, taking a sip of his whiskey.
Your eyes widen in curiosity. âThen what happened? Why arenât you in Seoul now, still producing music? Why do you work in this stupid newspaper and Namjoonâs a bartender?â you ask interrogatively.
âLife happened, doll. We didnât have enough money to publish our works so we decided to quit it.â
âOh,â you breathe out.
You could see the nostalgia written across Yoongiâs face. You feel sorry for him, for Namjoon. Everything is always about the money. Thatâs why youâre working in Sundayâs Spirit even though it was never your dream in first place. Even though you have much higher ambitions than being Ask and you shall find column author.
Ever since you were little, you loved writing. You never complained, not even once, when your teachers in school assigned you to write something. They kept saying you have an extraordinary talent and it would be a shame if you didnât do anything with that.
During your high school years, you were the leader of school newspaperâs team, still writing your own works every time you didnât have something different to do. After that, you got to the university in Seoul, your another dream came true. You got a master degree, an apprenticeship in the Korean version of highly popular, world-widely known magazine. And then, nothing. No job applications available. No newspapers or publishing companies wanting you, dismissing you right away because they didnât have any vacant places.
This is how Sundayâs Spirit, even if thatâs not your dream job, happened. And quite literally saved your ass.
âIâm sorry.â you say after a while.
Yoongi smiles but it doesnât quite reach his eyes. âDonât be. Whatâs in past, stays in past.â he ends the conversation, drinking the rest of his whiskey.
You find this as a perfect possibility to do what youâve come here for: get wasted, forget about this prick Park Jimin and his stupid assignment. You turn around on your stool to face the bar again, calling for the red-haired bartender named Hoseok whoâs substituting Namjoon right now. You order a round of tequilla shots and quickly pours two of them in one go.
âEasy, tiger,â Taehyung teases, still sipping his pink drink as you wipe your chin with the back of your hand. Taehyung has stated a long time ago that he enjoys only casual drinking, which makes you and you lightweightness snort at him.
âLoser,â you mumble under your breath, deep down knowing youâre oh so much going to regret this after.
You focus your attention on the dancefloor now; technicolor lights glittering as the crowd of sweaty people bounce to old Madonna hits. You feel like your spirit might actually experience new kind of awakening during the chorus in Like a Virgin. You mouth the lyrics, the vodka already half-way to your bopping head. Your drunken self almost asks Taehyung and Yoongi if they would agree to be your backup dancers.
You eyes scan the room carefully and then, you spot him. Heâs sitting in the corner, his arms splayed over the backrest of the red couch. A devil himself. A black horseman of the Apocalypse. A man who looks like every girlâs next mistake. Taylor Swiftâs âwe are never ever getting back togetherâ.
A true sin.
Jet-black hair parted in the middle, onyx eyes and lucious smirk written across his lips as he bites them purposefully. Heâs wearing a leather jacket and you wonder for a while if you would find inked tattoos on his body. He cocks his head to the side, his eyes glued to the same spot as he waits for something, or rather someone.
âWhoâs that?â you ask, not even hiding your curiosity at this point.
Taehyung turns around as well, his eyes glancing to the dark-haired man briefly. âAh, this, sweetheart, is Jeon Jungkook, Park Jiminâs best friend.â he says like itâs the most obvious thing in the world.
You raise your eyebrows, watching as Jungkookâs face expression immediately changes when waitress approaches him. He says something to her that makes her roll her eyes. She tightens her grip around the tray sheâs holding, asking him for his order.
âDonât worry. You are not the only one thirsting over him. I would let him top me too,â Taehyung whispers to your ear and you flinch.
âIâm not thirsting over him! I came her for drinks, not to get laid, I told you.â
âOkay, okay, loosen up a little. Tequilla makes you aggressive. Besides, it looks like heâs got his pick for tonight.â
Jungkook stretches out his hand and fixes the waitressâ glasses that seem to rode down her nose a little. The girl frozes in place because of his action and he grins, calling her cute.
âHeâs trying to ask her out for two months,â Yoongi interrupts suddenly, again. It looks like he has nothing better to do tonight. âIâm serious. Heâs here every Friday. Normally, he would have given up after the second time she had rejected him but thereâs might be something in this girl that makes his dick hard and his heart soft.â
Jungkookâs eyes girlâs body as she bends to pick up the glasses from other tables and maybe thatâs the alcohol swimming in your veins but you could swear his face lights up when she sends him another irritated glare when he calls her name.
âDoes Park Jimin comes here often as well?â you ask before you could stop yourself.
Both Taehyung and Yoongi shake their heads.
âI donât think so. Jeon comes here because he lives nearby in this huge ass apartment complex. His father runs a chemical factory and he works there.â Taehyung explains.
Jeon? Chemical factory? Something clicks in your brain. Right, you know who his father is. The King of Washing Powder. Another rich as fuck Busanâs snob.
âGod, I hate him. I fucking hate him. What a prick. Douchebag. Asshole of the century,â The string of profanities leaves poor waitressâ mouth as she walks to the counter with tray in her hands. âHowâs your day, love? You look beautiful today, love. Fucking leave me alone, love!â she mutters to herself, taking the beer mugs from Hoseok abruptly which makes the bartender raise his eyebrows in confusion.
âHowâs your assignment about Mary Magdalene going on, doll?â Yoongi asks then, startling you.
You roll your eyes at him. âI literally got it today, Yoongi. I havenât started yet.â you answer, gulping another shot.
On the corner of your eye you see Yoongiâs smirking. âIâm surprised, to be honest. You arenât the only one who doesnât pay attention to shit Jiminâs says,â he trails off. âI work for him from the moment he started this ridiculous Bible lunch breaks and I swear, heâs never called out someone like that before.â
âWhat do you mean heâs never called out someone before?â Taehyung joins in curiously.
âLook, I slept through the majority of these sessions and Jimin knows it, but he has never lecture me about it,â Yoongi remarks. âMaybe youâre an exception. Or heâs become more strict because of this bitch Chin-sun.â
You furrow your eyebrows, confused. You know Chin-sun has been making heart eyes for Jimin for a long time but what why it might have an influence on his behavior?
âLee Chin-sun? What the officeâs Mary Magdalene has to do with that? Besides the fact that sheâs drooling for his dick every time she sees him,â Taehyung snorts.
Yoongi chuckles lowly. âOh, so you two really know nothing about whatâs going on between them right now,â
âWhatâs going on right now? Spill.â Taehyung says abruptly. You sigh when you see the way his eyes flicker with mischeviousness. One thing Taehyung loves more than photography and fashion is gossiping (and dicks).
âFirst of all, Chin-sun is a fucking bigot. And well⊠she might be closer to being miss Park than we thought.â Yoongi muses.
Taehyung eyebrows practically disappear in his hairline. Youâre sure you mirror his expression right now.
Yoongi asks Hoseok for another glass of whiskey and continues. âMy friend Seokjinâs wife is Jiminâs personal assistant and secretary. She heard this and that, quite juicy things I must say,â he says in a lower tone, like heâs revealing government secrets to them. You lean closer into his direction along with Taehyung. âChin-sunâs father recently bought the claims to the most popular, conservative TV station in whole South Korea. But, what is more interesting, it looks like Park senior has some shares in it as well.â
Youâre astonished. You knew thereâs something looming in the air but you didnât expect this. A TV station? Even your slightly drunken brain can calculate itâs very interesting.
âSo the marriage between Chin-sun and Jimin would be pretty convenient for their families, especially after considering the fact that Jimin is the heir.â Yoongi adds, gulping the first sip of his new whiskey.
âPoor Eunwoo,â you whisper to yourself.
âBut why so soon? Why do they want to legalize their relationship so suddenly?â Taehyung asks.
Yoongi lets out a heavy sigh. âThereâs a rumour going around that Jiminâs father isnât in good condition right now. Seokjin-hyung mentioned something about the heart disease. So, if thatâs really true, you have the answer why he wants his eldest son to settle down already. Everythingâs about the money, I told you.â
Taehyung whistles. âWoah, so Mary Magdalene is really about to be CEO Jesusâ wife soon!â he exclaims, clapping his hands. âBrilliant. Finally something spicy is happening in this boring editorial.â
âI wouldnât be so enthusiastic if I were you, Taehyung. This kind of business never ends well,â Yoongi says coldly, placing his glass on the counter and standing up from the stool. He glances at his watch and throws a few bills next to his empty glass. âIâll get going. It was nice talking to you, doll.â
âWhat about me?â
âShut up, Taehyung, youâre not pretty lady.â
âI feel offended.â
âAnd I donât care,â Yoongi mutters. Maybe that was alcohol swimming in her veins but you saw Taehyung lifting the corners of his lips in amusement. Weird. âGood luck on your assignment, doll. See you all on Monday.â Yoongi glances to your way one last time, adjusting his jacket.
âBye, Yoongi.â you wave to him and a small, even sincere smile appears on his face when he as well raises his hand lazily and leaves. âWhy didnât you tell me heâs actually nice, Tae? I was always too scared to start a conversation with him because I felt intimidated.â you say after a while.
âIâm sorry, should have I set you up for a date with him?â Taehyung mocks.
A groan escapes your lips. âCould you please stop insinuating things?â
âYou need to get laid, seriously. Like soon-soon. You get easily irritated recently. You need a d i c k,â
âI donât need a dick!â
âA cock, Y/N,â Taehyung emphasizes. âA penis in your precious vagina.â
âShut up!â
Several shots and a few drunken dances to Cindi Lauper and Bon Jovi, youâre pretty much wasted. And maybe, just maybe, you need a dick. And Taehyung, like a dipshit he always is, thinks thatâs actually funny.
âDonât wanna homff,â you slur, supporting your weight on Taehyungâs arm that shakes with laughter at your drunken antics, as well as his whole body. âI wanna danfce witfh somebodyyy,â
âHoly Mother of Jesus, you must be really drunk if you started referring to Whitney Houstonâs songs. And you smell like booze,â Taehyung mutters under his breath and you whine, tugging on his arm.
âTaeTae, Taehyungie, pffleasee, can we go back?â
Taehyung ignores your grumbling completely. He exists the bar, walking (or rather dragging) you to the cab. As he tries to push your body to the car, he sees in the corner of his eye Jeon Jungkook, standing in front of his black SUV. The waitress from earlier accompanies him as well. It looks like heâs trying to convince her to let him give her a lift to home. The girl shakes her head at first but eventually gives up, stepping into the car. Jungkook grins to himself then, clenching his fists in gesture of pure triumph.
âI fuckinâ hate Park Jimin and his stfupid newspaper,â you mutter incoherently as you bury your head in the crook of Taehyungâs neck in the back of the cab. Old, korean songs are playing in the radio when youâre driving back home. Taehyung smiles to himself, hearing your light snores. But then, he falters.
Ah, yes, he almost forgot. It is going to be a long way to the third floor of your apartment building.
Next day, you wake up in the middle of noon with raging headache and an abrupt need to throw everything up. Frankly speaking, you had worse hangovers during you university days but it doesnât change the fact that the state youâre currently in still sucks.
âOh, good God, what have I thought?â you mutter to yourself while standing in the shower, letting the water cool you down.
Truth to be told, a drinking escapade when you have a whole ass paper to write in two days wasnât the smartest idea you could come up with. You know that for sure, when youâre sitting down in front of your laptop with prescription glasses on your face and a cup of tea in your hand.
Thereâs a blank document opened on the screen, with only your name written in the corner and the title in the middle. You feel pathetic and useless, staring at it for 30 minutes straight. If you keep sitting like this, you might actually call Park Jimin right now and beg him not to fire you due to your incompetence.
âGet your shit together, Y/N.â you say to yourself, clenching your fists.
At first you fought about making some mind-map, outlining the most important parts of your essay, as you always used to do when you were studying. But thereâs a huge difference between what youâre working on right now and what you usually did during academic days. Above all, at that time you were writing about things you had more knowledge about, not about Mary Magdalene and her role in Jesus Christâs life.
âAh, fuck it.â
You open an online Bible page and quickly type âMary Magdaleneâ in browser. All fragments when sheâs mentioned shows up in front of your eyes. You fix your glasses and before you could stop yourself, you whisper, âLetâs get it.â
You donât know how much time has passed since you started reading, but when you glance a the clock itâs nearly 7pm.
You went through every single page in the Bible when Mary Magdalene appears or when for some reason her name comes up in conversations. You read two thesis in which you found quite interesting facts about the heroine of your work. Also, you watched some conspiracy theories on YouTube about her, in which people claim that she was actually Jesusâ wife. You were bewildered, even in your post-hangover state.
And after all of this researching, you have settled a plan. Youâre a journalist for Godâs sake, youâve been writing your entire life and none assignment will break you. So you start typing on the keyboard, filling the blank document pages with words, hoping that Park Jimin will approve your efforts.
On Sunday, you look like a ghost.
Youâre a mess, cured from hangover but still in bad shape, especially after spending the whole night writing in front of your laptop. There are bangs under your eyes and you hair looks like you could cosplay a scarecrow. Your eyes are sore from staring to the screen for so long and you feel like you might collapse anytime if you wonât drink coffee in five minutes.
In between writing next paragraphs, you answer a call from Taehyung.
âHowâs your assignment going, sweetheart?â
You let out a long, exhausted sigh. âItâs fine, I guess.â you respond to him.
âThatâs lovely! I knew you would slay this, babe,â you hear him saying.
âIâm not done yet, Tae. I still have like a half to write,â you mumble and then let out a yawn, closing your eyes for a brief second before you speak again. âI would love to talk to you more but I really need to get this shit done as soon as I can, so I could have some decent sleep before Monday. I donât want to look like an old witch when I hand in the paper to Park Jimin.â
âI know, I know. You got this, sweetheart. Iâm sure you will make Mister Prudeâs dick hard because of this.â Taehyung assures you.
You crack a tired smile even though you know he doesnât see you. âThank you, Tae.â
âAnything for you, sweetheart.â he says and hangs up.
You take another gulp of your coffee and start writing again.
Itâs a little past midnight when youâre, with your last amounts of force you posses, typing the last words of the paper. As you look at your laptop screen, eyelids half-closed, you dream about nothing but going to sleep.
You did that. You really did. You wrote this stupid paper for Park Jimin and youâre actually proud of it. You carefully save the document three times (to be hundred percent sure) and as soon as you close your laptop, you pass out.
Little did you know what is waiting for you in editorial in a few hours.
You stare at your reflection in small mirror you hold, thanking God that he has enlightened the person who discovered make-up. You wonât say you look stunning but, after five hours of sleep you had in last two days, you would risk it all and say you appear much more than decent looking. Youâre wearing your new black jumpsuit that makes your legs look longer and you even used a different shade of lipstick, painting your lips in crimson red.
And all of this for nothing, because when you stormed into the Sundayâs Spirit editorial to give the paper straight to Park Jiminâs hands, his secretary with polite smile said heâs coming to work later today.
You pursued your lips and handed the woman your blood, sweat and tears (youâre actually sure a few tears rolled down from your face on the keyboard while you were writing it), wishing you saw your bossâ face when you place the printed pages on his expensive desk.
âI changed a little bit the topic of my work while I was outlining it,â you tell Taehyung as you both sit together by your desks later that day. âI focused more on a role of Mary Magdalene character in world ruled only by men. I showed how a powerful woman she was, standing at Jesusâs side even though the church for the centuries referred her to whore,â you explain.
âWow,â Taehyung muses. âYou turned Mary Magdalene into feminism icon fighting against patriarchy.â
âItâs not like that!â You hit him in the arm. âYou may laugh as much as you want but I actually got into her story.â
Taehyung smirks. âLooks like being scolded by Park Jimin wasnât that bad.â
You roll your eyes. âShut up. I got humiliated in the middle of fucking cafeteria. I still hate him. And also, I donât know what he thinks about my essay.â you say with a sigh.
âDonât worry. Heâs probably having an epiphany right now while-â
A voice from the speakers that certainly doesnât sound like gospel choir interrupts him.
âMiss Y/N, please report to the Park Jiminâs office immadietly.â
â-or he isnât.â Taehyung ends.
Once again, youâre frozen in place. Itâs okay, you tell yourself, maybe he just wants to talk about my essay. But what if he didnât like it? What if your sudden feminism outburst about Mary Magdalene was too much?
âHoly fuck.â you blurt out quietly.
Taehyung gives you an encouraging smile but he doesnât look much convinced in positive intentions of summoning you to their bossâ office, he just doesnât say it aloud. âWell, maybe it wonât be that bad! Maybe he wants to congratulate you,â he tries to comfort you, without success. You look horribly pale and scared to death.
âI repeat: miss Y/N, please report to the Park Jiminâs office immadietly.â Jiminâs stone cold voice pierce through the silence again. You shiver. The journalists in the editorial send you impatient glares.
âWhatever happens, remember that I love you.â Taehyung whispers, squizzing your hand, which makes you even more nervous. He gives you thumbs-up and you take a deep breath, trying to calm your trembling body. A whole Sundayâs Spirit team follow your movements with their eyes.
You stands from your desk on wobbly legs and walk to the door with golden sign hanging on its surface.
 Park Jimin
 Editor-in-chief
You take the knob in your shaking palm and twist, stepping into the lionâs den.
The atmosphere seems to shift when you walk into the room. You could hear your heart rapidly beating through the dead silence that lingers in Park Jiminâs office. âYou wanted to see me, sir?â you ask after closing the door, subconsciously cursing yourself for sounding so weak already.
âYes, have a seat,â Jimin says. âGive me a second. I need to finish something.â he adds when you sit down, not even bothering to spare you a look.
Jimin sits behind his desk, eyes glued to the computer screen. His hair is pushed back from his forehead, his jaw clenched. Oh, great, he looks pissed, you think to yourself.
He isnât wearing his suit jacket like usually, which surprises you. His white shirtâs sleeves are rolled up, revealing a glimpse of veiny hands and his Rolex. This is the first time you see him like this. He looks so⊠unlike him.
Strange.
You use the time you have to take in your surroundings. Jiminâs office is painted in fair tone of grey. The rumors were actually right, thereâs a smaller version of Michelangeloâs PietĂ standing proudly on of the drawers. Behind the desk, on the wall, hangs a wooden cross with gold-plated figurine of Jesus Christ, and just underneath it thereâs a framed picture of Lady of Fatima, which he once proudly showed to the whole editorial team on one of the lunchbreaks, saying his grandmother brought him this from her pilgrimage.
You focus your attention now on the wall filled with numerous diplomas and certificates, all of them signed with Park Jiminâs name.
You had read some of his works before you started your job in Sundayâs Spirit and you must admit: Park Jimin is a talented, smart journalist you aspire to be one day. Itâs actually sad, you think, that he canât pursue his career, wasting his abilities by working in catholic newspaper owned by his father. And as you know from Yoongi, his situation isnât going to change soon. Maybe he was right after all. Money really does rule this world.
After a few minutes that seems to last forever, Jimin breaks the silence. âDo you know why are you here?â he asks, finally averting his attention to you. He stares so deeply into your eyes that you feel you might faint from the intensity of his aura.
You clear your throat, and then respond. âI do believe itâs about my paper I handed in to you this morning.â
Jimin raises his eyebrow at that. âYour paper? No, everythingâs fine about it. I read it and I must say, you did a great job,â he says and you furrow your eyebrows. So if nothingâs is wrong with your essay then what does he want?
âThen⊠why did you call me in, sir?â you hesitantly ponder.
Jimin laces his fingers together and leans closer over the desk. âWell,â he begins, âMaybe you forgot or you really didnât know about it, but I used to run the same column as you do now,â You nod your head, recalling what Taehyung told you recently. Jimin continues, âI was actually the one who created it. That means I am still, for this day, its administrator. Which leads to another conclusion: every single ask that is send to our editorial and your responses to them can be monitored by me.â he explains, gauging your reaction. You still donât have an idea why is he telling you that, so you just sit still and wait.
Then, Jimin reaches for the paper that lays on the left side of his desk and hands it to you. âCould you please tell me what is this?â he asks, pointing at the paper.
You glance at it briefly. âThese are the questions I got last week and my responses to them.â you reply straightaway.
Park Jimin doesnât seem much satisfied after hearing your words. He then takes another paper and gives it to you as well. âAnd this particular one, Y/N? Could you please read it and tell me what is this?â
Ignoring his forego of ïżœïżœïżœmissâ, you take it to your hands and start reading.
Dear Sundayâs Spirit editorial,
My name is Kang Seoyeon. I study medicine at the University of Seoul, Iâve got an amazing group of friends and a loving boyf-
You gasp and immadietly put a palm over your mouth. Under Seoyeonâs ask thereâs also, clear as day, your much inappropriate response to her. In which you persuade the girl to suck her boyfriend off.
Holy fuck. Jesus Christ. Shitshitshit!
Jimin said he monitors everything that people send to the editorial along with the responds. Of course he had to read it. Why have you been so dumb? How could you believe that simple deleting from your inbox would be enough? Why canât you do something properly for once?
You gulp, trying not to cry because good God, heâs going to fire you. He will kick you out and write a bunch of negative letters to your future employees, in which he will explain in details how disobiedent, reckless of a worker you are.
âDid you also forget how to speak?â Jimin asks. You almost cry out right away from the coldness of his voice.
You muster up a courage and look at him, and thatâs a huge mistake because as soon as your eyes meet his, youâre lost for words.âI-I donât know what to say, sir,â you stammer out. âI have nothing for my defence. I can only apologize for my irresponsible and inappropriate behavior I exhibited.â you say, bowing your head down.
Jimin pursues his lips. He stands from his chair and walks to you, leaning his body on the desk. He takes the paper from you to his hands and starts reading. âIf you want to fuck your boyfriend, do it. Maybe God wouldnât approve that but donât worry, he wonât send you to hell because of some dick in your pussy,â he quotes your response to the girl and your cheeks flush in red; you wish nothing more than to disappear and never see your boss again. But heâs relentless and continues reading, spilling the crude words, humiliating you even more. âSo you go girl, suck your boyfriend off. Make him beg. He will never leave you after this.â Jimin chuckles to himself darkly and you shut your eyes. âLook at me when you are spoken to,â he demands. You quickly oblige, lifting your chin a little to meet his intense gaze. âIs that really how a good, catholic girl should act?â he asks in a mocking tone.
You shake your head. âNo, it isnât.â
Jimin clicks his tongue. âDo you think he really wonât leave her after this?â he asks out of the blue.
You furrow your eyebrows. What kind of twisted game is he playing now? âI donât know, sir.â you answer honestly.
Jimin smirks. Devilishly, sultry and completely illegal. He then licks his lips and leans closer to you. You could swear his eyes are darken than before. Something has shifted in his demeanor; he looks daring. âWhy donât you show me then, how this poor girl should suck her boyfriend off, Y/N?â he whispers lowly.
Your eyes widen. Did he just-?
He didnât. He canât. Maybe you misheard him, maybe you started imagining things that arenât real. Oh, sweet Lord, the look of absolute seriousness written on his face tells you very much different.
Park Jimin, your boss, the man who goes regularly on masses and reads Bible, wants you to give him a head. In his office.
May the God help you.
You should probably slap him in the face for his immoral proposition. You should save your dignity, leave and never come back again. But then, you clear your mind from all those twisted thoughts running through it and you realise that youâre walking on a very thin line. Line which is called unemployment and bankruptcy.
You think about your landlord who praised you recently for keeping up with rent every month regularly. You think about your student loans that you still need to pay.
And fuck, you hate Yoongi because he was damn right. Money wouldnât buy you happiness, but it can provide you that.
Thatâs why you put away the humiliation, the what ifs. You shut your mind screaming at you and listing the future consequences. Maybe Jimin just tests you, but the way he looks at you denies it. He wants to see you on your knees in front of him. Perhaps he only wants to play before he fires you but you put that thought aside.
You at least need to try.
Jimin searches for any kind of protest in your eyes and when he doesnât find it, heâs back to his domineering self. âWhat are you waiting for?â he asks, his voice an octave lower. âGet on your knees.â
He has a calm expression on his face and you wonder for a moment how many times has he been in similar situation before. Having a woman on his mercy and using her the way he likes. And now you know. All those stories you heard about, are actually true. Park Jimin isnât a prude. Heâs dirty.
You fall to the floor with a light whimper. Maybe itâs the last chance for you to leave, but the confidence that emanates from Jimin doesnât falter your movements. You hate yourself for that but God, you want to see this man being a mess for your touch. Even if thatâs fucked up.
And itâs wrong, so, so wrong, when thereâs a cross hanging behind you, when heâs your boss who claims to be a good catholic, when you do that because youâre too afraid to lose your job. But in that moment, the morality doesnât exist.
Jimin stands up to take his belt off, looking at you from the above as he slowly, purposefully pulls it from the belt loops. He doesnât encourage you or say anything, he just waits. You gulp when he yanks his black slacks down, along with his underwear.
For a few, solid seconds, you just stare.
You arenât a connoisseur of dicks. Dick is a dick, but Park Jiminâs length is just as perfect as the rest of him, semi-hard against his lower stomach. Your hands move to his sculpted thighs, running up and down, tracing the prominent lines of his toned abdomen. The muscles tense underneath your touch.
You donât remember when was the last time youâve gone down on someone. Maybe it was Taehyung few months ago when you were both too drunk to care? You canât quite recall. Every move of yours is uncertain, but Jimin doesnât mind. Maybe your uncertainty turns him on even more.
He watches as you take him in your palm hesitantly, hot and already stiff, stroking him several times until he hardens in your hand. The sight is purely erotic, filthy, and you lick your lips before placing a light kiss on his tip. Jimin hisses. Thatâs a warning. No teasing.
You pump him, trailing a thumb over his slit, spreading precum all over his cock. Jimin doesnât say anything but from the shuddering breath he lets out you assume he likes it. You take a deep breath, wrapping your lips around his dick and swirling your tongue around the head.
Jimin groans, a guttural sound resonating through his whole body and you take it as a sign to continue. You ease more of him into your mouth, hollowing your cheeks and bobbing your head up and down around his length obediently. Some twisted and fucked-up part of you wants him to praise you, call you good girl with your lips around his dick and throbbing core. He does none of that. His hands tangle in your hair as he withdraws, and you know exactly whatâs coming next.
Itâs an unspoken question on his lips and your jaw falls slacks on command.
A forceful push of his hips and heâs burried deep inside your mouth till he hits the back of your throat. Tears brim in your eyes and you gag, breathing heavily through your nose. It hurts a little, a dull ache but the content sigh and fucked-out expression on Jiminâs face is worth it. So you let him fuck your mouth the way he wants, let him pull your hair harder, wreck you a little more. Itâs so easy to submit to him, to let him overwhelm you in every sense possible.
Your eyes fall shut and Jimin stops his movements, pulling from your mouth. Drool dribbles down your chin and you wipe it with the back of your hand. Jimin lets out a shaky breath, staring down at you so intensely it makes your insides tighten, even if you donât see him yet.
âLook at me,â he rasps and you do, how could you not. The sight of your bossâ flushed cheeks and sweat forming on his forehead will be imprinted in your mind forever.
You curse yourself for wanting him to fuck you senseless right against his deck, with a hand around your throat muffling your screams, fuck you so hard you wonât remember your name anymore, no matter how wrong it is.
âGood girl. Youâre so pretty like this, letting me fuck your mouth,â Jimin nothing but purrs, filling you to the brim again, until there are tears forming in your eyes and running down your cheeks, until he hits the base of your throat again and again and you fight back choked gags every time. âJust like that, fuck-â he moans, lowly and beautifully, head thrown back and mouth parted.
Heâs close, you could feel that, so you take him deep once again and when your throat tightens around him one last time, he lets out a gutural groan and comes. You swallow every drop of his bitter release and when he pulls out from your mouth, you nearly fall forward.
Jimin catches you, placing his hands on your shoulders, balancing your exhausted body. You look at him through your half-lidded eyes. He looks so young now, so innocent, his cold demeanorâs gone and replaced by pure bliss written on his face. For Park Jimin, cheeks rosy, disheveled hair and loosen tie, you would do it all over again.
He then does something unexpected. He reaches for your face, brushing your tangled hair away and placing the strands behind your ears. This is a loving gesture, something exclusive he definitely shouldnât be doing. Youâre frozen, you canât move a muscle while he wipes your cheeks from the reminiscences of your tears. He trails his thumb over your swollen lips absentmindedly, faltering there. For a moment he looks like he might say something, but he quickly shuts his mouth, regaining his previous posture.
You take this as a sign to leave. You get up from the floor, your knees sore from the uncomfortable position youâve been in. You walk to the mirror that hangs on the wall of Jiminâs office. You sigh, seeing your current state. Thereâs no way someone would believe you that you havenât just sucked a dick.
Your cheeks are flushed in pink, there are smudges of mascara under your eyes and your lipstick is smeared in the corners of your mouth. Not to mention your hair is still a mess.
You are painted in all shades of wrong.
In the reflection of the mirror you see Jimin buckling up his belt and straightening his tie. He runs a hand through his blond locks and looks up, catching you staring at him. You quickly look away.
âDonât worry. No one will notice anything. Everyone should be off for their lunchbreaks by now.â he says. He sounds so pathetically normal, yet thereâs still a slight rasp in his voice.
You glance at the watch on your hand and check the time. Itâs a little past 12. You brush your hair with your fingers quickly and proceed to leave, but you stop, remembering you have to ask about one last thing. You turn around to face him.
âAre you going to write a bad opinion about me to my future employees?â you ask, flinching at the hoarseness of your voice.
Jimin raises his eyebrows. âBad opinion? No, absolutely not,â he answers, shaking his head. âI was never going to fire you in first place.â
You fight back the shocked expression that threatens to appear on your face. You quickly rush to leave this damn office and never look in his eyes ever again. What were you even thinking?
âAnd Y/N,â Jiminâs voice makes you stop with your hand hovering over the door knob. Single tear rolls down your cheek and you gulp. âIâm sorry.â itâs all he says.
You donât ask him what he meant by that. You donât deliberate if he was sincere or not. You leave the office as soon as you can, running to the nearest bathroom, closing the door behind you and leaning on it.
He wasnât going to fire you. He just wanted to use you, demand to get down on your knees and please him the way he wants. It was all a game for him, and you became his plaything.
âIâm so stupid,â you mutter to yourself, burying your head in your hands. âGod, Iâm so stupid.â
You feel sick, used, but at the same time you canât get away with creeping feeling that you enjoyed it, wishing he wanted you just as much as you wanted him in that moment.
You sigh, closing your eyes. Youâre probably foolish for thinking it wonât have any consequences. Youâre just about to face them.
The coldness of early Spring hits you when you exit Sundayâs Spirit editorial. You hug your body tighter with your coat, standing in front of the building awkwardly. You take a few deep breaths, trying to clear your mind, but nothing really works. Thereâs a vacant space inside your body, like your soul has drifted away and left nothing but emptiness.
You feel hollow.
You donât know how long have you been standing there, inhaling fresh air and waiting for your blood to start circulating properly in your veins again. When youâre about to head to the underground station, on the corner of your eye you see Jiminâs black Mercedes. You probably shouldnât stare but you helplessly do.
Probably if you didnât, it would hurt less.
He approaches the car, looking perfectly fine as always, which you couldnât say about yourself. And he isnât alone.
You recognize dark curls of Chins-sunâs hair, contrasting her beige coat beautifully. The corners of Jiminâs lips lift when he sees her. You donât know if itâs a honest smile or a forced one. You wonder for a while how does he look like when heâs truly happy. Maybe heâs happy now, when Chin-sun is by his side.
What you are really sure about Park Jimin, is that heâs a man of many maybes.
Something which definitely doesnât look forced are his palms, cupping the cheeks of Chin-sunâs flushed face. He starts tracing circles on her skin in intimate gesture and murmurs something. Maybe he asks her how was her day. Your lips still tingle where he trailed his thumb over it bitten, swollen surface. Maybe he still remembers how they felt around his cock when he was relentlessly bringing tears to your eyes and stabs to your heart.
The way he leans and kisses Chin-sunâs cherry colored lips is purposeful, perfectly measured. Maybe he sighs into her mouth with content, a beautiful sound you have witnessed with your own ears, as you were working him to his climax. Jiminâs hands grip Chin-sunâs dark locks but it isnât the similar manner he did to you earlier, as he laced his fingers through the strands, when you wished him to do nothing more than pull harder and harder, until the pain in you scalp was replaced by dull ache, until a whimper fell from your lips and eyes squeezed shut. He kisses Chin-sun lovingly and thereâs no roughness in that. Itâs gentle caresses and soft murmurs.
After a moment he breaks off, soothing his palms over Chin-sunâs shoulders. She sends him a smile and opens the passengerâs door, getting into the car. And then, when you swallow a lump in your throat, when you decide to turn around and go, run as fast as you possibly can, when you dream about nothing more but never seeing him again, you catch eyes with him.
Jimin looks pathetically apologetic. Thereâs something in his dark brown orbs you canât read. Maybe itâs guilt, maybe regret. Park Jimin is a man of many maybes, yet he stares at you with expression you could only mistaken for sadness.
You wonder if he sees the way your eyes stare at him blankly. You wonder if he knows how he nearly wrecked your body and made you feel things you shouldnât. If he hurts the same way as you do now. However, Jimin quickly diverts his head away from you, closing the door to his car behind him as well. You laugh quietly at the ridiculousness of this situation. A bitter laugh that escapes your mouth and deepen the hollowness inside you.
A hand touches your arm and you donât even flinch, knowing already who it is.
âSo you know the news,â Taehyung says, looking at Jiminâs car leaving the parking lot. How long has he been standing behind you?
âWhat news?â you ask, turning your head to look at him.
âChin-sun is really going to be miss Park officially,â he replies. âJimin proposed to her this weekend. The wedding is in may. But thatâs not important right now. Howâs your conversation with him, sweetheart?â
You feel sick. You excuse yourself, mentioning something about needing to catch earlier train and texting him later. Taehyung calls after you but you donât listen. You start running.
You run until you couldnât breathe, until thereâs a soreness in your throat from the coldness of air. You run until you reach your apartment, stumbling into it on wobbly legs. Your back touches the wall and you slide off, sitting on the floor.
You donât cry. The tears donât strain your eyes. Itâs only this damned, dull hollowness.
Thereâs written in the Bible that a guilty person is the one who broke Godâs law, who committed a sin. The said person will be judged by their actions after their death. Because every human being has a conscience, the thing that sets the line between good and bad, so when we did something wrong, we should feel remorse.
When you sit on the floor and stare blankly in front of yourself, you know you have sinned.You both did. You wonder if he, trailing patterns of tender touches on his fianceeâs skin, feels the same as you. You wonder if guilt eats him up as much as devours you. Maybe thereâs hollow ache in his chest, just like in yours. Maybe he doesnât feel anything.
And may the God help you both find your redemption.
#jimin smut#bts smut#ksmutclub#smutcentralnet#btswritingcafe#bangtanarmynet#bangtanhq#btsbookclub#maknaesmutsociety#btswriterscollective#bts fanfic#bts scenario#jimin angst#bts jimin#jimin#jimin fic#jimin x reader#jimin scenarios#bts#my writing
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obviously im gonna ask about ministry :Đ·
Ask me about my favorite artists | Accepting
2, 4, 13, 20 and 25, please! đÂ
2. Do you remember the first song of theirs you heard?
Oh yeah I do lol. It was Jesus Built My Hotrod actually back in the day when I discovered my new music via Music Choice in middle school lol. After I heard that song I decided to look into Ministryâs music some more. Funny enough I didnât get through any more of Psalm 69 before I went straight to The Land of Rape and Honey and bought that album immediately.Â
4. Whatâs your favourite song(s)?
SO IâM GOING TO HAVE TO FESS UP HERE. I talk a lot of mad shit about new wave Ministry being my favorite, but thatâs not true. THE TRUTH IS: LORAH is my favorite album and With Sympathy and Filth Pig are tied for a close second. But that being said if I had to give a list of my favorite songs in order (kind of) it would be:The live version of Stigmata off In Case You Didnât Feel Like Showing Up (the end of that when heâs screaming fuck this and fuck that is like... idk man itâs the best shit), Flashback (I have my reasons), The Game is Over (for obvious reasons), Useless (that song is a lyrical masterpiece and means so much to me), Sheâs Got a Cause (this song is so sad but like so happy and beautiful sounding at the same time), Love Changes, Filth Pig (idk the way it opens fucks me up), Golden Dawn, Hizbollah, and Effigy. After that it starts getting grouped by albums.Â
13. What do they or their music mean to you?
So I love Ministry for many different reasons, but honestly I think the biggest one is the anger of LORAH got me through a pretty difficult time in my life. Other than that, thereâs a certain attitude that older Ministry conveys that has always kind of been an outlet for me; either in my own personal life or in my writing. On that last note, thereâs quite a few characters I have that are either directly inspired by Alâs songs or at least adopted from a namesake point of view. Iâve been associating music with writing ever since I started, and itâs really the main inspiration for almost everything Iâve done. For example: My character Extollere is a debt collector for an arms dealing firm in the 70âČs, the grungy and sludgy sound of Filth Pig really resonates with this character, who for lack of a better term, is a piece of shit. Another example is Semerkhet (my child and favorite of my characters if yall wanna know more about them Iâm willing to talk in a different ask bc it would get LONG) Sem has a bunch of different musical influences, but their main story is almost directly influenced by the VERY cyberpunk sound of LORAH and specifically Flashback and Stigmata. So yeah, baby al is cute and all but honestly his annoyingly aggressive attitude in his early industrial is what resonates with me the most and has honestly helped me through most of the hardest times of my life.Â
20. Which artist do you want them to collaborate with?
OLD MINISTRY. FORREAL STOP THIS NEW SHIT ITâS BAD. but no seriously, Iâd love to see him do something with Ogre again. The RevCo material they did together was really fucking good and I miss that specific sound they had. Honestly and this is a super controversial opinion, Alâs thrash metal wouldnât have been so bad if like.... he went a more.... dare I say... Black Metal direction? but obviously that wouldnât happen and if it did I canât promise it would have been any better than what he did anyway. idk if Al would have been Trve Kvlt enough anyway. I kinda hope this most recent tour with Carpenter Brut, it will get Al in a more âfaux 80sâ direction and maybe we can come full circle back to some new wave. but thatâs a big Halo Reach Iâm doing with that.
25. How did you get into them?
I kind of answered this in the first question, but that isnât the full story. I heard Ministry on the metal section of Music Choice while cleaning the house in middle school, but after I heard Jesus Built my Hotrod, I did immediately dive into LORAH. I donât remember why that one was the first album I heard after that. It might have been because it was the easiest to get ahold of off amazon? I donât remember really. But after that my ex sister in law gave me a copy of Psalm 69, which lol, I actually didn't like that much. So I jumped into Mind after that and loved the lyrics so much that I actually had my gamertag on xbox 360 named after the line in Breathe ârusted syringes at half thought disposalâ I was the edgiest kid in COD. but it really just turned into this big rabbit hole of Ministry. I ACTUALLY DIDNâT GET FULLY INTO NEW WAVE MINISTRY until a couple years later when I realized that baby al was much more attractive than filth pig al and the thirst led me down that hole pretty fast. Â
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