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peofun1 · 2 months ago

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okay the new anime season is already in full swing, so I gotta get my thoughts out on the last season. because I have once again watched Way Too Much Anime.

same as before, we chose what to watch mostly based on which PV trailers looked interesting before the season aired. now I'm gonna yap about all 17 shows for way too long.

✨obligatory disclaimer that this is Just My Opinion, Man. if I say something mean about your favorite show, please don't take it personally!

everything we watched, in alphabetical order: Alya Sometimes Hides Her Feelings in Russian, Bye Bye Earth, Dahlia in Bloom, The Elusive Samurai, Isekai Suicide Squad, Magical Girl and Evil Lieutenant Used to be Enemies, Mayonaka Punch, Oshi no Ko S2, Quality Assurance in Another World, Senpai is an Otokonoko, Shikanoko, Shoushimin, Tasuuketsu, Too Many Losing Heroines, Tower of God S2, VTuber Legend, Wistoria: Wand and Sword

Alya Sometimes Hides Her Feelings in Russian - 1 episode, dropped funny that this one is first alphabetically, cuz I only watched one ep with a group of friends, mostly just to clown on it. I swear there's at least six anime exactly like this one every season: hot girl randomly takes an interest in the most boring man on the planet. Boring Guy is Boring. there's probably a weird little sister involved. but the girl is Russian in this one, because that's easier to write than actually giving anyone a personality. fucking snore dude

Bye Bye, Earth - 8 episodes, dropped this show is… weird. the worldbuilding feels incredibly dense, but also not very well explained. it felt like they were introducing new concepts and Proper Nouns every other sentence. I fully believe that this all makes sense to the original creator -- like I'm sure they have a 400 page Lore Bible with all the deep rules of their world, because it all feels very intricate. unfortunately I don't have that lore bible, so I found it really hard to follow.

that said, I think I like it? kinda? the animation style is kinda ugly, but for the most part I like the character designs. I think it's great to see a female lead in a show like this, and I really like what I've seen of the MC and her motivations. there's some really interesting fantasy ideas -- like the way people "grow" their weapons as an extension of themselves, MC's curse that her sword can't cut living things, this society that revolves so heavily around music -- but all of it together just becomes a confusing jumble.

it's not bad, but not good enough for me to finish this season :/

Dahlia in Bloom - 6 episodes, on hold this is honestly one of the more refreshing romance anime I've seen in a long time. It's a little slow moving and not very action-packed, but I love how well Dahlia is established as Her Own Person before the main love interest is even introduced. My girl has a career! hobbies! a friend group that stands by her while she goes through a messy break-up! it's so easy to root for her, and early episodes of this anime truly had me screaming "GIRLLLLL DUMP HIM YOU CAN DO BETTERRRRR" at my TV (in a good way)

and her main romantic interest is really good too! he has a personality beyond just being a perfect hot romance boy! the two of them have great chemistry! they act like adults and have a believable slow-burn starting as friends! idk it's kind of wild how realistic the romance in this show feels, despite being set in a fantasy world.

unfortunately this show did get put on the back-burner while we were watching a bunch of other things, but I'd really like to return to it sometime. I wanna see Dahlia thrive in her career and personal life!

The Elusive Samurai - 7 episodes, dropped okay, guys. you guys. listen. I really wanted to like this show, okay. I watched the previews and was like holy shit, CloverWorks has done it again. if this is as good as Wind Breaker, maybe I can finally forgive them for what happened to Promised Neverland. I saw the clips on twitter from episode 1 and thought this could be the big standout of the season.

but, uh. it's not. at least, not for me.

the tone of this show is extremely inconsistent. it flips wildly between wacky gag-manga comedy, and dead fucking serious horrors-of-war. sometimes multiple times in the same episode! add that to the break-neck pacing (in the first few episodes especially) and it left me with emotional whiplash. like, okay -- the more dramatic, gritty grimdark stuff I rather enjoy. the scene where the villain obliterates a whole battalion single-handedly, and then gets swarmed by adoring fans while the one survivor tries in vain to tell them what a monster he is -- that shit gave me chills. it's some incredible visual storytelling. but then the show inevitably cuts back to the weirdo priest doing some weirdo shit with the kids and I'm annoyed again. eventually I just got tired of it.

absolutely banger OP and ED though. probably my favorite ED of the season, and second-favorite OP.

Isekai Suicide Squad - 5 episodes, dropped boy, this one sure does do what it says on the tin. this sure is an anime about Suicide Squad -- yes, the DC comic book characters -- getting transported to another world.

honestly I was really enjoying it, at first. it's not doing anything particularly new, but these versions of the characters are fun and the animation was good enough to carry the story. and like, I'll say it -- anime Harley Quinn is pretty hot. I'm a lesbian with eyeballs, I can admit that.

unfortunately the animation takes a nosedive suddenly right around the point where I dropped off. the fight with the dragon is REALLY rough, like almost unwatchably bad. and when the animation is that bad, I stop to wonder what we're even doing here. they're taking a huge detour from the main plot to randomly fight a dragon, and it doesn't even look good. I don't know if the animation gets better again after that, but I decided there were better things to watch this season /shrug

pretty good OP and ED, though. I like the really stylized animation in the OP, and the ED is a decent bop.

The Magical Girl and the Evil Lieutenant Used to Be Archenemies - 2 episodes, dropped this one looked cute, but mostly I wanted to take a look because it's made by Bones. and it is pretty cute, but for such a prestigious animation studio, it didn't exactly blow my tits off. after two episodes, I really felt like I'd seen most of what this anime would have to offer. the guy is "evil" but has a soft spot for one girl, the magical girl is cute, he gets flustered when she does cute stuff. it's fine, but nothing to write home about.

the episodes are real short though -- about half as long as an average anime episode -- so it's not a huge time sink. who knows, I might pick it up again sometime if I want something fluffy.

Mayonaka Punch - 12 episodes, completed alright, now THIS show is the absolute underrated gem of this season. it's fun, it's funny, and it's even a little bit gay! the cast are the best kind of likeable assholes, and they had me laughing out loud multiple times an episode. the more emotional/dramatic parts are pretty well done in my opinion too. particularly the way the show depicts Masaki being haunted by nasty comments online feels very "real", without being too much of a huge bummer.

genuinely, Mayonaka Punch is just a great time. I never felt bored watching this, and I'd gladly watch another season if PA Works decide to continue the story! but even if they don't, I think this has a pretty satisfying conclusion. it's nice to enjoy a good 12 episodes that wraps itself up neatly at the end.

also my absolute FAVORITE OP of the season. I'm a sucker for OPs that are sung by the cast, it's super catchy, and the animation is great. all the references to actual viral videos and trends are funny without feeling forced or cringe -- jumping on viral video trends is what the whole show is about, after all!

Quality Assurance in Another World - 3 episodes, dropped man, I honestly don't have much to say about this show. the broad concept is kinda interesting (QA testers working on a full-dive VR game get trapped in the world of the game SAO-style) and the art style is kinda unique. it just didn't really hold my attention, unfortunately. my wife watched a few episodes past the point where I stopped and she said it kinda popped off a little later but ehhh. someone might really enjoy this one, but it's just not for me.

Senpai is an Otokonoko - 7 episodes, on hold so this anime was made for my wife specifically. she's read the whole comic (I think it's a webtoon?) and adores it, so she was beyond hyped for the anime adaptation. and it's honestly really well done! I think the way it uses chibi characters for comedy (and to save on animation lol) is really cute. the characters and drama are pretty well written, and I really like that the two "rivals" in the love triangle are actually friends with each other.

the only thing is that parts of the story/drama are kiiiind of heavy. my wife is a trans woman and relates very strongly to the main character, so it's a hard watch for her sometimes. even though she's read the comic and knows what happens, she's said she really needs to be in the right headspace to watch this one. there's nothing egregiously bad though, omg -- the worst I've seen so far is the MC's mom being really transphobic and them trying to go back into the closet because of it 😬 so definitely a trigger warning for that

but yeah, really like this one, we're just watching it pretty slowly so I haven't finished it yet.

Shikanoko Nokonoko Koshitantan (My Deer Friend Nokotan) - 2 episodes, dropped hoooo boy. the big meme show of the season. I feel like anyone who follows seasonal anime has probably heard of this one, at least. I saw the OP going around a lot, and I'll admit, it's an earworm.

maybe this is a controversial opinion, but ya'll, I did not care for the actual show at all. I went into it with pretty high hopes, granted, since people were hyping up how funny the manga is. In two episodes I think I actually laughed maaaaybe once? I dunno, the hyper-realistic CGI deer are pretty good the first few times you see them, but boy does the gag get old fast. even the scene where deer-girl busts through the wall of the classroom only got a little snort out of me. and then that joke completely overstays its welcome by going on for like two full minutes of gratuitous slow-mo.

really all I can say is: not funny, didn't laugh! Mayonaka Punch is way more fun, watch that instead.

Shoushimin - 6 episodes, on hold first of all, this anime is fucking gorgeous. truly every frame a painting. I've seen people talk about "cinematic" anime this season, and Shoushimin really embodies that. the characters, the environments, the framing, the lighting, ugh. I wish I could eat all of the lovingly-rendered pastries in this show.

animation aside, this is a veeeeery slow-paced kind of slice-of-life. it's all about small, mundane mysteries, so I can definitely see people finding it boring. my wife decided after about 4 episodes that she just doesn't have the attention span for this. I mostly like it though; it makes me think of a more chill version of the fake manga the MCs write in Bakuman. that said, I need to be in the right mood for something this slow, so I've been watching it on and off.

also shoutout to the OP because I am an Eve fan first and a person second

Tasuuketsu: Fate of the Majority - 2 episodes, dropped I would have completely forgotten about this show, if crunchyroll didn't keep trying to get us to watch the next episode. it's an extremely generic death-game show with pretty stupid rules imo. frankly I would have dropped it after one ep, but there's a cliffhanger at the end of ep 1 that was intriguing enough to convince me to watch a second. they completely undo that cliffhanger in episode 2 though. boooo 👎

best thing I can say about this show is that there's a plot-relevant kick to the balls. no I will not elaborate on that.

Too Many Losing Heroines - 12 episodes, completed man, okay. so from the PVs before the season started, I thought this one was an easy skip. I don't care for harem shows, and this looked like just another boring light-novel romance. no amount of pretty "cinematic" animation was going to get me interested in flat, annoying characters that I've seen a hundred times. we were literally late to start watching it, and only picked it up toward the end of the season because people would not stop talking about it.

so take into account that I am very biased against this entire genre when I look you dead in the eye and tell you: this show is kind of incredible? like don't get me wrong, it's not exactly re-inventing the wheel here, and there's some fanservice moments that made me roll my eyes. but overall, this has some of the best character writing and drama out of everything we watched this season. the girls are genuinely a lot of fun, and their friendships are very believable. even the stuttering shy girl, which is usually an archetype I find super annoying, managed to win me over in the end.

the male MC is probably the weakest part of the show to me, but he still has more going for him than most guys in this genre. I like that his story is more concerned with him learning to be platonic friends with people, rather than just trying to push him into romance with all the girls. even if he ends up with one of the girls in the end (probably the blue-haired one), I appreciate him building a real friendship first.

and I gotta mention the EDs, because each of the main girls gets their own dedicated ED song and they're all beautifully animated. the OP is pretty fun too.

Tower of God Season 2 (part 1?) - 13 episodes, completed I'm honestly pretty torn on this one. once again my wife has read this whole webtoon, so she would have more thoughts about this in terms of adaptation, but I'm anime only. I really liked season 1, even though I found some of the worldbuilding hard to follow, so I was looking forward to this.

and man… I'm so disappointed in the animation for this season. The art style in S1 was one of my favorite things about it, so seeing them drop that in favor of a much more generic modern anime style was a huge bummer. If it was done so they could go all-out on the action more easily that would be one thing, but all of that is pretty lack-luster too, and I know I'm not the only one who feels this way.

as for the story, maybe I just don't remember S1 well enough, but I was pretty fucking lost sometimes. this is another story with mountains of worldbuilding, and I'm sure some fans of the webtoon could go on for hours about the lore. unfortunately that's not me! maybe I'd have a better time if I re-watched S1. even so, I did like most of the new characters, and seeing the returning ones when they showed up.

I dunno. 6/10 overall, not enough Khun. excited to see Khun more in the next cour.

VTuber Legend: (extremely long LN title) - 12 episodes, completed I cannot believe my wife made me watch this whole thing. I can't believe I actually sat through every episode. this show is some peak brainrot, but that's not always a bad thing?

don't get me wrong, I like vtubers just fine! I follow a couple of english-language ones that I like, though I'm not deep into the ~fandom~, as it were. I have no idea how accurate this show is for Japanese vtubers, but boy are these characters weird and horny. sometimes they're funny, sometimes they're unbearably cringe. though that probably doesn't come as much of a surprise, given the premise. who knows, if you like vtubers and bizarre fetish content, you might like this one.

Wistoria: Wand and Sword - 12 episodes, completed this show wound up being a kind of sleeper hit this season. I remember basically no one talking about it before it started airing. it must have had some crazy word-of-mouth recommendations though, because it shot up into the top five seasonal shows on MAL at some point. I started watching from episode one just because the PV trailers looked dope, and I was not disappointed!

in terms of story, again, there isn't anything we haven't seen before. magic high school, kid who can't use magic and gets bullied, but he's really good at sword fighting so he kills lots of scary monsters. but here's the thing, guys -- he looks fucking incredible while he's doing it. this show is completely carried by its slick animation and art style. it's just an absolute treat to watch, and I wish I could eat the colors and intense shadows at work here.

it's already confirmed for a second season, too. my wife liked S1 enough to read ahead in the manga, and she said it only gets better, so I'm definitely looking forward to that.

Honorable mention:

Oshi no Ko: Season 2 - 1 episode, on hold okay this is embarrassing but IN MY DEFENSE! I'm caught up on the manga! 😭 so I already know what this season is about!!! we just decided to wait until the whole season aired so we could binge it, and haven't gotten around to it yet. also it's annoying to watch, since I don't want to pay for fucking HIDIVE, so we have to watch it……. elsewhere.

but like I'm sure it's good. this is easily my favorite arc in the manga, so if the anime kept up the quality from season 1, I'm gonna have a great time. when we get around to it 🙃

#once again not tagging every anime bcuz I'll go insane #for fall 2024 I have TWENTY-TWO anime added to my list 😭#several of those I'm probs gonna watch when they're finished with another friend #but also jesus christ lmao #long post #ramblings #peo watches too much anime

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jjungkooksthighs · 4 years ago

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Claws of Carnality | jjk (5)

Pairing: alpha jungkook x omega reader

Genre: smut, fluff and angst, abo/werewolf!au, soulmate!au, fantasy!au

Rating: 18+ / nsfw

Word Count: 8.7k we really out here getting longer with every chapter because a bitch is hungry

Summary: Privation looms lingeringly without your mate of whom hunts for you deep within the wood. In his absence, he still manages to fill the void even if it is only ephemeral. The sun watches while you fall prey to your desirous natures and it is only when the golden orb has begun to drip lower along the sky’s body that it is time for you to then be guided by the hands of other omegeans to prepare you for your mate upon his return even when no one yet knows, beyond you, who has already staked his claim on you. When the call of your alpha announces his incoming arrival through the forest beyond, that’s when you heed his howl and go to welcome him home, but what will you find when you get there?

Warnings: alpha!jungkook, possessive!jungkook, jealous!jungkook, dom!jungkook, sub! reader, omega!reader, mentions of breeding/ruts/heats, mentions of a mark, slick and pre-ejaculatory production, scent marking, scenting, fingering, begging, praise kink, female masturbation, cunnilingus, breeding/impreg kink, character injury (someone gets hurt, but it isn’t serious)

A/N: My fingers are literally sore from writing so much. This one got pumped out in like a day and I’m honestly a clown because we really out here going from 1.5k with the first chapter all the way to 8.7k for chapter five. I think my hands are still shaking as I write this, but hey, this beast is finally out of the cage of my mind like it wanted to be! Seriously, this one did take some hours of sleep out of me in its need to be written, so please feed my soul and let me know that all this effort was deserving of the lack of sleep in the midst of it being midterm week at my university.

You guys have been so freaking sweet with your kind messages so far and I really am floored at how everyone seems to be enjoying this story, so please keep that up, y’all! I hope that I did justice to everything that has been written so far and more than anything, I hope to have been able to please you all with this next installment. Now, without further ado, I give to you part five of COC!

Part 9 Part 8 Part 7 Part 6 Part 4 Part 3 Part 2 Part 1

Feebleness fleetingly finds you under its clutches while it grasps you within the boscage of the woodlands.

It is commanded by the titillating tendrils of your alpha’s spiced scent and your fingers tug tightly around the fine furs without thought as you stare longingly at the mound of vestments that Jungkook had so torturously left in his wake, a whine releasing itself from the bowels of your body as you try to stand on dangerously debilitated ligaments that are still too weak to bear your weight after the satori that has swayed your entire being.

Too distracted in the pheromones of him that wrap yearningly around you, you don’t remember to pick up the abandoned silken necklace that your alpha had wantonly pulled off and away from you as your wobbling knees bring you to the forsaken garb he’d peeled so salaciously from his beautiful body.

Next to it are the shredded, tattered remains of the trousers he’d been wearing and, distantly, you wonder how many pairs he has ruined in the past through the multitudinous shifts he must have gone through as a purebred alpha that must have been so prone to surrender to his wolf and trade his human feet for the paws of his beast.

Your wolf bays at you to pick both up in the need to keep as much of him near to you as you can and, with embers in your mind burning only for him that are stoked by his redolence, you heed it as your knees buckle when you bend with effort to grab them.

Belatedly, it occurs to you that your alpha had not brought an alternative change of clothes given the state of his wrecked attire.

As you slowly run your fingers reminiscently over the destroyed fabric, there’s a thought that pushes at your conscience between a pair of golden irises that flash commandingly at you and through the smoke that hazes your mind, you remember what he’d told you.

“I expect my mate to be waiting for me before I let every wolf in this fucking compound know that you’re mine when I claim you at the ceremony tonight.”

The words melt away at your insides in the clear claim that they heat you with and you really can’t help it when you bring both articles that had adorned him close to your chest as you turn to tread through the woodland back from whence you came as your cheeks run hot with realization.

Your alpha would anticipatedly await you to receive him back from the hunt he was to lead in your honor.

He wanted you to be there to welcome him over all of the other bitches in the pack and, like the dutifully loyal omega you were meant to be, your mind had already set into its stone that you would later return to the greenwood upon the sun’s setting when all the alphas would rightfully reemerge from the forest’s foliage so that you could greet your own.

You would do so with open arms that would bear not only your warmly joyous touch, but also the mended clothing he’d damaged to hunt for you that would serve to preserve the modesty that he intended only to show to the pack. Beyond closed doors, you wanted him to shred it all only for you.

Beyond all of that, though, there’s the searing flame of possession that your wolf finds its rump sat firmly against in the calefaction of the emotion that is ablaze within you and you find that you’re willing to fuel it into a wildfire so that everyone will know that your alpha belongs to you should he wear the restored vestments that you would effortfully stitch back up with the hands that longed to caress and find themselves over his perfect aureate skin.

These are what have you promptly turn to leave with the flutter of bird’s wings beating against your bosom as you amble along in obliviousness to the pair of lupine eyes that observe you protectively in the distance.

It is only when you walk so far into the rays of the reaching sun that even your striking silhouette can no longer be beheld by them that their owner whirls around, his ears flicking toward the clang of antlers that must belong to two rearing bucks some ways off and without a moment to lose, he’s gone in the rush of the autumn leaves.

Lost in the sea of pheromones that wash over you as the spray of them pools around you while you press your nose greedily into his garment, you pay no mind to the mated alphas or betas walking about at the early hour.

What does demand your attention, however, is the sudden onset of sharp, panging pains that, with every step and breathe you take, sink their teeth deeper within the soft skin of your belly, a whimper caught in the fabric your mouth is held against as a vicious torrent of feverishness has your body temperature begin to lower without the warmth of your alpha as a vicious headache starts to pound against your cranium.

In the midst of it, your own musk pungently pervades the air only to draw the eyes of unwanted wolves to your sweet smell that is enhanced due to the starting symptoms that have already set your body off in the absence of your alpha that it pines for.

It is only when you manage to close the door to your chambers behind you, with your alpha’s clothes covetously pressed against your nose as if drunk on his ambrosial taste, that you shirk Jungkook’s furs from your body to throw them on your bed as your wolf yaps insistently to nest amongst the pelt until the scent clinging to it has rooted itself to your cot so that no part of it has gone unseeded by your alpha.

Once you’re satisfied with the assortment of dips and ripples of the blackened blanket of pelts that cover your duvet in its entirety, that’s when you lay down to nestle the furs, your baser being demanding that you lather yourself in its savory smell that you wish to soak in until you reek of your alpha.

The soft, downy pelage of the pelt caresses you against your exposed calves so very tenderly and, abruptly, the dress you wear is far too rough as it grazes against your skin in your movements as you quickly divest yourself of it. Somewhere in your maneuvers to take it off, your legs rub against each other only for you to widen both eyes at the sight that greets you.

There’s slick that all but drips from your sex and it glistens along your thighs in the thick coating that marks you there and you suck in a breath as you ascertain the afflictions your body has been wracked with.

You’ve just gone into the pre-heat acutely accompanied by a fever that every omega has intermittent interludes of upon finding their alpha.

As if to remind you of this, a sudden shiver falls over your skin in the frosted frigidity that freezes the air around you in how cold your boudoir has just become under your steadily decreasing internal temperature.

Without the physical comfort of your alpha, you whine, your fingers finding his garment that you’d thrown on the bed beside his furs to quickly lay it atop your bare bosom, your nipples hardening against the flocculent material that is softer than satin as it brushes against the sensitive buds deliciously.

You sigh shakily in satisfaction as the cloth along your chest coaxes your skin with its gentle warmth through its fibrous fingers while his furs embrace you as you silently thank your alpha for leaving such giving gifts behind to smoothly soothe you in his absence.

Your moment of respite is short lived, however, when an edged twinge of a cramp bites low into your abdomen as you grimace in pain, a fresh accretion of your juices finding your folds as you cry out the only name that could ever hope to free you from such sensations.

“Jungkook,” his name is whispered from your lips, an irrational need setting itself alight within you as the picture of your alpha half nude from the forest flashes provocatively through your mind.

He’d been so profoundly pulchritudinous under the morning rays and, with those dark eyes and wet mouth that had been so eager to welcome you to him, he’d only allured you more to him between his words of letch that had left you so parched after him. You can still imagine the way his hot tongue had laved at you, can still feel the deep press of his digit that had pushed down wantonly within your own lips as you’d sucked at it like a newborn calf.

His finger had been so obscenely long while his hands had been so lewdly lined with veins over the bones that bore so much strength and you wonder how those digits would have felt deep within your velvet depths while you ponder what those lustful lips of his would do to you if they found their rightful place along your neck. You cogitate how well his defined, chiseled body would fit against yours while he’d drive his cock without abandon into the silken home of your pussy while he’d utter lascivious indecencies to you born out of lubriciousness for you.

All of this has your hand sliding down your body without pause, your eyes closing as new need begins to burn hotly within your system in longing for your alpha.

Your fingers find your neglected bud of nerves while you imagine that it is him that stands before the legs that you spread without hesitation for him as hunger flares behind golden rises that sear cravingly into you. You envision that it is him that commands you to taint yourself this way as you breathe in the igniting incense of him that has the flint of desire smoke profusely with the heat that simmers there as he clouds your mind until there is nothing but him that lingers there.

“Touch yourself for me, pretty,” his hazily hallucinated voice demands within your mind.

Helpless to deny him even in your fantasy, you obey in the want to please him even within the imaginary realm your head concocts of him. Your brows pull together in concentration as a ring finger slips between your saturated sex to collect the slick that accumulates there before finding its place atop the neglected bundle of nerves that have been ineffective for years in relieving you of your deep desire that has only ultimately and uncontrollably grown throughout your years without the aid of the alpha that you belonged to.

Upon the first glide of a middle finger over your clit, you moan, your other hand closing compactly around the bed of furs beneath you as you envision that pink tongue of his darting delectably from his mouth to lick at his lips as he stares raptly at you before uttering,” Come on, my omega. Show me how those tiny fingers try to sate that pretty cunt that only your alpha could ever satisfy,” you imagine that he leans over you to plant two hands on either side of your hips as he sniffs, his eyes rolling back at your musk as he burrs, “Let me see how you’ve tried to give yourself the pleasure that can only be granted by the alpha you were made for, pretty.”

You shakily sigh in response in the thirst that implores the sustenance of him through another deposit of slick as one finger begins to slowly stroke your clit while your other dips between your generously wetted folds to circle and prod at the hole that woefully weeps its essence in the denial of what it craves most.

Helpless in the inability to disobey him, one digit breaches your sopping entrance while your other streaks over the bundle of nerves crowning your womanhood in a figure-eight pattern as you throw your head back while imagining that it is his lips that find your neck to leave behind marks that brand you as his.

“Gods, yes, alpha...please,” You cry out, your digits inadequate next to the ones that have sinfully set your soul alight.

Your finger sinks easily into your wet sheath as you drive it back and forth before your pace inevitably quickens, your hips pitifully trying to chase the elusive hand of pleasure as they begin to gyrate atop the bed while your other hand latches tighter onto the furs beneath you.

You envision that the mouth you wish would claim you as his travels torturously down your body until he’s peering edaciously at your glistening sex, the squelching sounds that grow louder in your fastening ministrations only beckoning him further in the drenched deposit of slick that amplifies it.

You envisage that he brings one plump lip between his teeth as he stares like a starved man at you behind eyes that glint with appetite as he hums, “Mmm, look at that cunt crying for its alpha. You really are desperate for me, aren’t you, pretty?” He lowers himself down to his knees to give you a piercingly hungry glare, “Tell me what you want, my omega, and I may be merciful and give you the release you want so badly. Obey this- obey me -and I will bring you to your end that was only ever mine to give to you, pretty.”

Your fingers hasten their movements as you bear more force down and over your rapidly engorging clit, the digit that lodges itself needlingly inside you still not enough as you whimper out, “A-ah…please, alpha. I want your mouth on me. Give me your mouth, alpha.”

The desperation for him flares as you imagine the smirk born of amusement before he descends down to your folds that shine with the sheen of your slick that has made a mess of your thighs and the bed of furs beneath you. You watch as craving of the likes in which you’ve never endured settles heavily across your abdomen only to coil tightly when, with his eyes still locked on yours, his rapturous tongue licks a long, languid stripe across the delicate skin of your inner thigh only to cause you to bite down on your tongue in effort to trap the sound of sin that yearned to escape you in the fervid felicity of that alone.

You envision your alpha lapping unmercifully at you until the only wetness draped across your thighs is his leftover saliva, your back arching with each flick of his tongue against the sensitive skin as you whine in spite of his teasing.

“Is my mouth all that you desire, pretty? I could do so much more to you with my fingers. I could fuck you so well with just my hands,” your alpha muses as one digit prods at your entrance unmercifully in the way that it nudges itself back and forth between the folds of your sex as you gasp out. It’s when he extricates it from you, with your juices still soiling his finger, that he takes it into his mouth as he groans only to have you throw your arm over your face as redness sweeps over your cheeks as you pule.

Your alpha releases his digit from his mouth with a ‘pop’ as heat winds you up when he urges, “Beg for me, my omega. Only then will I give you more. I want to see how much you need me.”

The words fall easier than the waters from a river as you visualize him smirking knowingly as he dangles your pleasure before you like bait on his hook as you babble, “Want your fingers, too, alpha. I want you to fill me up with them until I’m so full of you that I can’t think anymore. Please, Jungkook.”

Without warning, two fingers push pleasantly inside you as your mouth parts in an ‘o’ shape while your alpha licks at his lips, entranced in the sight of his fingers disappearing into your sex before he brings them backward only to bury them deeply within you again without prelude. Hot breath is blown over your pussy as he separates his digits in a scissoring motion that has your walls contracting around him as you press your lips together in effort to stifle the sounds he so easily draws out of you.

It’s when he furls his fingers inside you in a perfect motion to have your toes curling that your body trembles in the sensation, your alpha noticing this as he utters, “Take it, pretty. I know you can. You’re being such an obedient girl for your alpha. I fucking love it.”

The praise has you preening as you pant and when his tongue flattens over your womanhood to trail tortuously up so that no part of you is left untouched by him, that’s when you keen.

“Gods, you are so fucking delicious on my tongue. I could do this forever and never tire of your flavor, my omega,” you imagine that he replaces his hand with yours only to cause you to writhe when two fingers circle over your clit unrelentingly while he gives a light, chaste kiss to the innermost part of your left leg before, with lips still coated in your essence, he croons, “Because you’ve been so good in allowing your alpha to taste you, I will give you your reward, yeah?”

You hardly have time to think on the words he feeds you with before his lips are planted over your vulva, the wet muscle attached to the bottom his mouth sweeping along your slit while his thumb whorls over the bundle of nerves as his nose brushes against your clitoral hood to cause you to cry out.

“Alpha, please,“ Your voice waters down into a mewl as you envisage that Jungkook, without warning, pushes his tongue so far inside you that your eyes roll to the back of your head with a stuttered sound.

You envision that you can feel the way he grins knowingly as he watches you fall apart on him, his eyes narrowing heatedly as he plunges the appendage damningly with you as he utters, “That’s right, pretty. Call out the name of the only one who can make you feel this good. Gods, you’re so beautiful all spread out and bare for me just like you were always meant to be. Fuck, pretty.”

You do as he says, stammering out his name in labored breaths as you imagine that he thrusts his tongue into you without fail as the tip of it perfectly hits the cluster of nerves buried deep within you over and over again. Soon, your walls begin to clench tellingly around him and by this point, your knuckles have gone white with how tight you grasp the furs in the hand that you’re not using to sinfully stimulate all of this.

When you envisage that it is his fingers that splay possessively over one breast only to fondle it amongst digits that twiddle your nipple between them while he looks at you with a hooded gaze darkened only with the most carnal of desires, that’s when the coil of craving within you constricts as your alpha rasps, “You’re close, aren’t you, pretty? Fuck, when I take you, I can’t even imagine how you’re going to feel around my knot,” the last word has your walls closing threateningly around him as you moan out in the need your wolf bays at to be filled fully and completely by the only cock that you want to impel itself in your silken sheath and in response, he hisses, “What, you like that? You want my knot, pretty? You want to be bred until you’re swollen and round with my pups? Is that it, my omega?”

You nod, too far gone into your indecent illusion to care anymore as your back bows when he sucks your sex between his lips as you drawl, “Yes, alpha. Please, give it to me.”

There’s a devastating chuckle between your legs that has you trembling in anticipation and when the digits of his fingers roll your nipple between them as if he’s done this thousands of times before as he pairs it with an especially fatal propulsion of his tongue that strikes your g-spot so piercingly that it has your body convulse dangerously around it. It is only when you’re squirming that your alpha’s all-consuming irises flash commandingly as he growls, “You’ll get your fucking pups out of me only if you yield to your alpha,” he says with the eternal flames of voracity blazing through golden rises that devour you whole as he eats you like a deprived man while he professes,” Surrender to me, pretty. Submit to me and show me how bad you want your alpha.”

He pairs this with a catastrophic swipe of his tongue once, twice and three more times before you’re throwing your head back in blissful pleasure as you fall hopelessly apart while you plummet into your end that wracks you to a writhing mess atop soiled furs while your walls flutter fiercely around the two fingers you had unknowingly undulated against in your search for release.

When you extricate your digits from your body, a string of slick clings to your fingers and, longingly, you wish that it wasn’t your essence on your hand, but instead that of your mate’s.

Only your labored breaths break the silence that sets in the aftermath of your indecent deeds, your muscles aching from the awakening of new ones that have not been in use before amongst the old that have been afflicted after the strenuous strain that your alpha had wrought on your body.

It takes a few minutes to come down from your high and your headache is furiously fast in reemerging once the remnants of your climax have faded as you groan in effort to sit up. It is then that you notice the tattered trousers you’d neglected before in the ravenousness that had eaten away at you for your alpha and, with a new resolve that prickles past the prominent pounding of your head, you decide that now would be a good time to mend them so that you will have something to present to your alpha upon his return to the compound.

You stand on unstable legs that are beginning to become a familiarity to you in the wake of your alpha as you pull Jungkook’s garment over you and are completely content with the way the article of clothing covers your intimate parts as you fold it over your chest to tie it together with a silken cord that had been buried inside.

Finding your small sewing kit that you’d left abandoned in the corner of your chambers, you situate yourself along the cluster of plush pillows settled along the window seat as you set to work on fixing your alpha’s attire.

You try to mind your fingers that the needle had left you privy to numerously numbed fingers because of in the midst of the late hours of the night after stitching together the ripped remains of the clothing that the pups under your care would often tear with claws that protracted and retracted in the midst of their growing bodies.

It is a futile attempt, for the sharp spikes that shoot through your digits inflict themselves in you anyway. Your attention is far too focused not on the article of clothing, but on the one who had worn it.

You wonder what he might be doing right now and if he’s been thinking about you as profusely-or lewdly, mind you- as you have been about him, your wolf wanting to howl for him to beckon him back as you longingly caress the shredded trousers while you pine for the warmth of his skin and the radiance of his smile.

Sometime later, there’s an abrupt series of knocks at your door and you smile as you fold your finished work and place it on the table next to your window seat before rising with anticipation that energetically bounds through you.

It was time for you to be prepared and groomed so that you could be received by the alpha that no one yet knew had already staked his claim on you. Every omega went through this period before their Offering Ceremony to heighten the chances of finding them a suitable mate.

The door opens and in leaps your best friend, Niva, who was mated last spring as she happily greets, “Y/N! Are you so excited? Your time is finally here, darling!”

You laugh jovially at her energy as you easily question with mirth, “Good to see you, too, Niva. I am, very much so. Is it just going to be you that has the privilege of getting me ready?”

She enfolds you in an all-encompassing embrace and you mirror the sentiment, for it is in omegean nature to be close-knit and seek the warm arms of the dynamic that is known for their nurturing, compassionate nature.

You wrap your arms around her, but upon your best friend getting one whiff of the heavy pheromones soured by sex in every crevasse of the room, her nose wrinkles as her face twists, “Ew, Y/N, did you seriously already get bedded on the day of your ceremony? It stinks in here. Your grandmother is not going to take kindly to this. You’re supposed to be pure, remember?”

You stand back with a smile lifting at your lips, “I know very well, Niva. Have you considered,” you lift a brow, “that perhaps I am still the virgin you always like to mess with me about being and maybe that there’s an alpha who might have given me his furs so that I could have some kind of relief in his absence?”

Your best friend’s eyes widen in surprise, but that is soon replaced with a knowing glint of mischievousness in one eye as she takes in the visage of your disheveled appearance amidst the only article of clothing that is entirely too large in how it dwarfs your much smaller body as she queries, “Judging by the smell, whoever it is must be quite an alpha based on how strongly your room reeks of him. Judging by how that excuse for a shirt on you totally swallows you up, he must also be quite muscular and tall. Tell me,” she leans close, “has he touched you yet?”

Your cheeks turn red as the memories flash like moving pictures through your mind in a tale recounting what had just happened and all that had occurred before and within the greenwood.

You pull your lip between your teeth thoughtfully before you quietly admit, “In more ways than one, yes. Gods, has it been amazing, Niva. He is so…so attractively alluring in every way.”

Your best friend holds you close as she watches the emotion color your irises and, seeing that in combination with the way your very voice had lilted with the sentiments, happiness dawns on her as she cards a hand through your hair to declare, “Then I will endeavor to make you irresistible to whoever this alpha is, darling. When I’m done with you, your alpha won’t know what hit him before it’s too late.”

You blush when she calls in your other two omegean friends of whom carry a large assortment of oils, herbs and soaps before the three disappear into the lavatory through the adjoining antechamber in your boudoir to set to work on readying your bath.

You busy yourself in the meantime with thoughts filled only with your alpha despite the cacophony of chatter echoing excitedly off of the walls, your attention drawn elsewhere and when Niva comes to retrieve you, that’s when you look away from the window that you’d been trying to squint through in effort to locate your alpha that still hunts for you within the greenwood.

When you step into the copper basin that is much too large for your smaller body, the waiting waters wrap tenderly around your ailing body as the steam wafts around you in the heat of the fluid that births it. A long, drawn out breath leaves you as your tautened muscles loosen while your friends pour vial after vial of lavender, spruce and rosemary oil over you, the viscous solutions draping themselves over your skin to coax open your pores so that more of your pheromones are released to further attract prospective alphas with your scent.

Niva takes care to drizzle you in pink salt sold out of the exotic Himalayas that she’d acquired from an especially friendly merchant after being told it had the power to make the skin glow with the might of a goddess. After that, she then spritzes the waters around you with roses, passion flowers and red clover blossoms that decorate the watery landscape around you until its canvas has been painted a magnificent magenta while you’re lathered in the herbal bath, a sigh of satisfaction falling from your lips before your best friend starts her work cleaning your hair.

Usually, you would purr at the gentle glide of fingers over your scalp, but not today. Today, there’s only one pair of hands that you want on you and they are much too far away for your liking.

Once the suds of soap have been rinsed from your hair, that’s when you’re left to bask in the warm water that had been drawn especially for you, for each omega has their own variation of scents that they prefer to bedeck themselves with for their Offering Ceremony in effort to lure more alphas through an amplified air of pheromones surrounding them.

You ruminate on what Jungkook might do once he catches your naturally enhanced aroma that he’s already admitted to liking so much and, for good measure, your fingers find a floating rose and draw its soft petals over your shoulders before rubbing it along your neck.

When the water has gone cold and you’ve been immensely imbued with the essences of nature, that’s when your friends return to retrieve you from the depths of the basin that you’ve sunken into through your calming contentment.

Your hair is aired with oaken fans brought all the way from China before they twine and curl it around until it rests artfully in a braided bun along the crest of the back of your head, two twin strands nestled right in front of your ears to petitely frame your face.

You really wish that you could focus on the gossip that falls freely as leaves from the trees this time of year as they labor over you, but you can’t. Not when your head swims with thoughts only of your alpha.

Caught as you are in the tides of him that drag you along, you do not feel the bristles of a brush along your eyelids as Niva tips your head back to apply the powdery coloring that will accentuate your brilliant silver orbs before your best friend lines your lids with the blackened stick of kohl.

Even when a light smattering of the dust of crushed rose petals is painted over your cheeks, you do not look into the mirror, for your eyes are trained on the sliver of sun that begins to wane through the rays that begin to reach backward toward their parent as your wolf bays in expectancy to receive its mate.

Once Niva is done with her masterpiece, that’s when you’re made to stand and close your eyes before you’re walked over to the mirror that spans from the floor to the ceiling in the corner of your chambers as your other two friends produce the gown your grandmother had had made for you for this very day out of an ornately sealed box that had been left outside your door upon your return from the woods.

You hear the clicks of the chest that signal its opening, excitement enthusiastically running amok within you when there are three collective gasps behind you as they stare in awe at your gown.

It is lifted gingerly and delicately in its fragility and your friends help you into it slowly while slightly stiffened organza material skims your skin as it is pulled meticulously up and over your body. Once your arms have been lifted through the hollow holes and the pleated style sleeves rest atop your shoulders, that’s when the laces lining the back of the gown are pulled taut and the bodice constricts around you as you wince at the unyielding tightness that winds around your abdomen.

Once the ties to your dress have been neatly crossed over each other in a complicated complexity that you will never see, that is the moment that you hear the distinguishing groan of aged wood being opened in the form of another box. The contents within that are unknown to you, but upon the cold, heavy material that encircles your neck, you can surmise that it is a choker meant to conceal the area so untouchable to all but the alpha whose mark you would eventually bear in its stead.

Your best friend smiles fondly at her finished piece of artwork before stepping to the side to say, “Open your eyes, Y/N. It’s time for you to see how much the moon favors her most adored daughter.”

You open your eyes in questioning, but before you can turn your attention to your friend, the image in the mirror captures it first as your breath catches at the sight it bestows to you, your jaw falling open in wonderment.

Your skin all but glows under the gleam of sunlight that tries to tread over your radiance in its dimming dance as irises the color of moonlight piercingly stare back at you from under eyelids speckled with silver like the celestial body amidst the smudges of blended eyeshadow along the sides that beseech boldness in the color that matches the soils of the earth. It is set off by a cat-eye of kohl liner that is dappled thinly along the tips of your lids to demand attention in the way that it contrasts your irises. Even your lips have been streaked with the crimson of a rose to beckon beguilingly in the wish to be looked at.

Embellishing your neck is a choker made entirely of moonstone that is set between chromium on each side. Its base rests just above your collarbones and, its thickness, it extends about two inches upward to hide away your sensitive scent glands as it covers your skin.

Below that, though, that’s what really takes your breath away.

Your gown looks to have been crafted from the threads of the moon’s core in the white of it that adorns your body in its entirety. Layers of gossamer-like fabric compose your dress and set carefully between it all are specks that shine like grayed moondust in the light that glimmers off of them.

Your bodice is styled in a plunging ‘V’ that hugs your frame and is ceased only by the firm, fitted band that wraps around and hugs your middle well below your breastbone. Tied along its end is a very thin silver cord that twists into a knotted bow before your skirt loosely trails down and out, the train of it cascading like a sea behind and around you. Your arms are bare, but the sheerer and more translucent sleeves trickle over your shoulders and flow about to join the pool of fabric along your feet as you take a shaky breath.

The woman that stares back at you is one that drips with the waters of clarity in the confidence that she exudes as she stands tall and proud. She is every bit the omega you were always meant to be as she holds her head high, her hands clasped along her front as she angles her head at you to study you and you have to close your parted maw as you stare wondrously back at her, wholly unable to move at the sight of the stranger that has your body in the mirror.

When the familiar furs of your alpha are lowered over your shoulders, that’s when you look away, your irises finding Niva’s as she coos, “I don’t even think the ancient queen of the wolves could compare to you, darling. I really have outdone myself this time.”

You stutter, completely in awe of yourself as you tell her, “N-Niva…this is… how did you-“

Your best friend hushes you with a finger to her lips,” Shhh, that’s a secret, my dear. I cannot divulge my magics lest someone steal them away from me,” she teases as she puts both hands around your shoulders to encourage, “Look at yourself, my darling. You look positively radiant. Those alphas don’t stand a chance.’

You think that maybe it is all just a trick of your senses and that it is just a hallucination, for you surely can’t actually appear the way that the girl in the mirror does, right?

You find your visage once again on the mirror in an irrational need to confirm this only to widen your eyes at what greets you, for it is you that peers curiously back at yourself, your hand reaching out to run your fingers down the image of you that is set behind it.

Your friends step back from you when your hand lowers and you turn to them with joyous tears that threaten to ruin all the work they labored so much from as they quickly fan the air around you in attempt to keep them trapped within your eyes as you laugh, your arms shooting out to welcome them all in a warm embrace that you are sure to thank them incessantly within.

You enfold them in your arms until the sun’s rays strain to reach you, it’s descent into the night being announced with the raucously reverberating howl from the forest that has your blood singing in the familiarity that it is carried to you with.

It finds your ears even here and you perk up, your wolf barking in need to go and wait for the alpha that every fiber of your being tells you is near as your best friend looks to you in understanding as she says, “Go on, Y/N. Don’t worry about us. He’s waiting for you. Go to him.”

You need no further coaxing as your feet move of their volition, your fingers closing around the mended trousers while you pull the furs your alpha had given to you tight around you, for it was tradition that omegas were not to expose skin before the Offering Ceremony and to be wrapped in an outer covering that preserved their purity until they were ready to shed it upon commencement of the event and acceptance of their alpha.

The golden disk that once sat high in the sky now has dipped halfway below the horizon, but you need none of its light to locate the alpha that calls you forth as you tread tirelessly on until your nose brings you to the edge of the forest where an old trace of Jungkook still lingers.

You crouch to leave his fixed clothing by the bark of one aged tree as you walk on, narrowing your eyes as you attempt to see beyond the long line of browned stalks that stretch on as far as the eye can see.

Anticipation flaps with the fierceness of a black swan within you and when you hear the snap of a branch somewhere off to your left, you enter the thicket’s threshold without hesitation in your baser being’s need to relish in the warmth of your alpha.

The stench of death thickly layers the air as you wrinkle your nose and as you find yourself standing before the broken limb of the tree, that’s when the dark silhouette of a figure steps out from behind it.

The sun’s fading rays blind you to whoever you’ve found, but the voice that soon lathers itself all too heavily and viscously over your skin has your hair standing on end as it saccharinely presses, “Were you looking for someone? It’s okay, omega, you can tell me that you were trying to find me and profess your love to me. Everyone else does.”

You roll your eyes at his vain vanity, “Actually, Taehyung, I was just trying to find my alpha who happens to be nearby and if he finds you here, he’s not going to take too kindly to that.”

You turn away from the alpha, but Taehyung predatorily stalks after you and before you realize what’s happened, he’s in front of you to halt your movements, a twisted grin marring his features as he sniffs you, a tremor wracking his body as he does that has your blood running cold.

“Oh, but that’s where you’re wrong, omega,” he tries to reach for you and you take a step back, not wanting his odor nor his filthy touch to stain you, “See, Jeon won’t be back for some time, sweet thing. He’s still on the mountain hauling back his kills that he’ll be too late to bargain for you with.”

Your stomach drops to the recesses of your body as you try to move away from the alpha that hounds after you while your fingers tighten over the furs that cover you from his roving irises that roam all over you, your skin crawling everywhere that his attention slithers over.

In the eyes that are glazed over from the onset of a rut, there is no care there. There is only gluttonous greed that bats away anything and everything that is not you.

Your omega harks for you to submit under the alpha’s penetrating gaze, but you resist it as your own alpha’s voice traipses through your mind.

“I will not tolerate anyone that attempts to take what is mine.”

It is that thought that has you pushing past the instinct to yield to the alpha before you now as you shake your head, the surety set in your eyes amusing Taehyung as you spew its fires, “I would advise that you move away from me before you do something that you will regret. Your pack alpha has already made his claim on me and will not hesitate to punish you if you tarnish what belongs to him.”

Your defiance has the alpha’s cock harden impossibly more amidst the divine incense you emit from freshly opened pores. No omega had dared to talk back to him before and it was inebriating.

“Stars, you really are lust if it had a form, she-wolf,” the shadow convulses with dark laughter that has goosebumps growing along your skin as you back away, “Jungkook wasn’t lying when he said you were the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. You smell sweet as fuck, too…I wonder if you taste just as good.”

Fear has your body begin to lock into place when your back nears the rough bark of a tree, “Do not do this, Taehyung. You will face wrath the likes of which you’ve never seen if you so much as lay a finger on me. I want nothing to do with you, do you understand?”

A grin curls with malicious intent along its edges as he takes a step forward until he’s only inches away from you as he taunts, “Oh? You want nothing to do with me? Perhaps you shouldn’t be striding around smelling like temptation and sex in that little dress then, huh? You omegas always have a flair for driving us crazy when you present, but fuck, Y/N, no one holds a candle to you. I think,” his eyes glint dangerously when your back hits the thick trunk of the tree, “that you should be claimed by a real alpha that can treat you better than Jeon ever could.”

“Taehyung,” you try through a dry mouth,” Stop. I don’t want this. Jungkook is the one I wish to bear the mark of, not you.”

Panic sets in and seeps icily across every vein when one hand comes to rest next to your head, his eyes burning a hole into your neck as he makes a sound of consideration, “Such a lucky happenstance that the pack alpha didn’t think to mark what was his if he didn’t wish for others to taint it.”

The alpha nears and the ache between your knuckles warrants the incoming protraction of unguis, but before they can make their appearance, there’s a raged roar born entirely of aggression that threateningly thunders through the woodland. It is stormed by the fury that is set between the crackling of claws fulminating fiercely over the trunks of trees somewhere behind you.

It takes only one inhale through your nostrils to know who has joined you, your heart pounding faster in response as your wolf cries for its mate while his scent thaws the ice within your body that Taehyung had foolishly frozen within it.

“I thought I made myself clear to you, boy,” the sound bleeds into a menacing snarl from behind you and Taehyung stops in his tracks, seized as he is by the overpowering command of the alpha ranked higher even than him as Jungkook’s brooding aura pierces him like an icicle in the coldness of the familiar voice,” She’s mine. I would advise you back the fuck away from my mate before I do much worse to you than break both of your arms the last time you felt it wise to try to fucking disobey me.”

In the chill of the frigid air that has his beast wanting to tuck its tail between its legs, Taehyung tries to ignore it as he dissentingly jeers, “Is she yours? Unfortunate that I don’t see your mark on her then, pack alpha,” Taehyung sneers, his eyes still settled on yours, though your attention is far from him at this point as you stare longingly towards the origin of where nails scrape furiously into the skins of the trees as he dares to challenge, “You are not the only wolf that thirsts for a she-wolf as parching as this one, Jeon. I could get drunk off her scent alone and you expect me to just sit back and allow you to take such an appealing aperitif away from me? Sorry, but I want to taste her myself and there’s nothing that you can do to-“

The rest of whatever the younger alpha had been wanting to say never makes it past the confines of his mouth, for there’s a blur of golden skin that flashes before you and suddenly, Taehyung has been launched several feet into the air only for his spine to collide into the back of an old, stocky evergreen tree.

The bark screams against the contact in the deafening series of snaps as the foolish alpha is slammed so forcefully into it that, like an arrow, his body shoots cleanly through the aged integument as the oaken pillar that has been broken in half falls to the forest floor with a thud.

Golden irises find you under their attention as your alpha steps from behind you, your blood warming at his heated touch when he grasps your chin between his fingers to assess you for damage before laying his forehead against your own as you reach out for him, the pads of your fingers lightly trailing tenderly along his jawline as you quietly whisper,” Alpha.”

Jungkook nuzzles you protectively before he rumbles out, “My omega. Did he hurt you? Did he touch you?”

He’s like a furnace in the way that his skin is calefied with the intensity of the sun and you purr when he nudges at your neck as your palm finds its place where his heart beats like a drum against you as you tell him, “No, Jungkook. With you around to keep me safe, he never got that far. He was about to, but you didn’t let him, my alpha.”

Your alpha bristles at that, his irises dimming in light of your admission as he growls, “He nearly did. He would have if I hadn’t come when I did. I sensed your scent souring and it led me here. Had I been just a bit later, I nearly would have lost what was mine,” you watch in awe how his canines draw themselves out of his gums, captivated by the way that they lengthen and grow in size until they protrude out of his mouth in their large size that is much more massive than the average alpha as he pulls away from the nook in your neck to lay a callused palm along your jaw as he utters, “I need you to stay here for me, pretty. That fucking fool needs to be reminded of who is in charge here and I intend to jog his pitiful memory so that he never forgets it.”

He draws away entirely too soon as you whimper in his absence and you, with your eyes magnetized only for him, observe with interest the way that he strides heavily and imposingly through the cluster of trees to bear down upon the collapsed body that is a mess of tangled limbs under the broken arm of the oak he’d been forcefully thrown against.

Your alpha’s hair falls wildly over his face and, in the waning light of the sun, his eyes bear down balefully over the younger alpha as he stands nude save for the mended article of clothing covering his lower half that you had dutifully brought for him.

Fury is palpable in the way that it looms like a shadow off of Jungkook, in the way that it clings to his every muscle when he snaps with glistening incisors at the downed alpha as he seethes, “It seems that you’ve lost sight of who is at the top of the food chain, boy,” Your alpha towers intimidatingly over Taehyung, who hisses at him, “The one on top gets the pick of the fucking litter and that, Taehyung, has never been you. I am your pack alpha and I am the only wolf that can command all of you alphas beneath me. It’s time that I discipline you to make you aware of that fact.”

You hardly have time to process the popping sound of bones before your alpha has lodged five razor-edged, serrated claws deep into the recesses of Taehyung’s left shoulder as the younger alpha yowls out in pain that can be heard miles away in its dismal din.

Your alpha marvels at the crimson fluid that stains him as the red tears of Taehyung’s wounds pool around your alpha’s digits only to trickle sadly downward until they are one with the earth.

Jungkook snarls forbiddingly when Taehyung squirms underneath him to hound out, “What happened to that mouth you like to fucking flap all the time? Too scared now to use it, boy?” Your alpha leans forward with anger flashing in his eyes, “I would suggest that you don’t fuck with me again, little wolf. You’re going to get much more than the fucking claws next time should you be foolish enough to try.”

Your alpha draws his other arm back, your eyes widening in the darkness that is settling its dark shroud over him.

Before another set of claws can embed themselves within the younger alpha, you call for your own and through the cloak of negative emotion that has begun to suffocate him, your voice slips between it to caress the ire of his baser being.

When your smaller fingers enclose around the wrist of his bloodied hand, you gently coax his claws out of Taehyung, who crumples atop of the brambles along the woodland with a thump as you press yourself to your alpha’s back to offer with a soft voice, “Come back to me now, alpha. Your mate does not wish to see you so wracked by your fury. You’ve made your point clear to both him and to me.”

Jungkook inhales deeply only for his muscles to loosen while your sweet scent laces itself around him as he turns to utter, “My omega, it is because of my mate that I must resort to the animal within me,” You watch as the dark emotion recedes slowly from his irises as he imbibes you, entirely too parched of you for so long as an emotion you’ve yet to understand intensifies in its wake when he confesses, “I can hardly help that when you beckon me so, pretty.”

#werewolf!jungkook #werewolf jungkook #jungkook x reader #jungkook smut #jungkook fanfic #bts smut #bts fanfic #bts scenarios #jungkook #bts #dom!jungkook #btsbookclub #bangtanarmynet #bts abo #alpha!jungkook #alpha jungkook #alpha omega bts #alpha jungkook x omega reader #jungkook hot

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jeeperso · 3 years ago

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D&D Quotes Without Context

Mordent arc, Part 3

"Alright! Let’s go kick this things ash!" "Into the darkness we go. And we bring justice to the dark places." "Or at least fire to flammable places." This is a massive room, filled with every manor of torture device known to man (and a few that aren't). There is a rack, an iron maiden, a spiked chair, several stocks, cages large and small, the walls have shelves lined with all manner of torture device, chains litter the place and hang from the walls. "Kink-ky." "Not without consent it isn't."

"His suffering has yet to begun, as has yours." "Blah, blah, blah." "Dominus meus pastor; Qui habitant in eo. Quia ipse super maria et mentiri in viridi pascua: Et herbarum adclinavit me super aquas refectionis. Et animam meam refecit duxit me et semitas iustitiae propter nomen suum in." "QUIT TALKING MOONSPEAK AND HIT THE DAMN THING." "I had hoped to torment you more, but you are proving to be most obstenant. So I think the time has come to dispense with the pleasantries, AND SIMPLY KILL YOU." Jonni makes a yapping mouth motion with her hand. “Inquisitor! By the power vested in me by the deity and church of Ioun, I demand you return to your home plane or the nearest available dread Domain!” "Jonni, show this heretical birch how we do things downtown." "May Ezra strike you down for your myriad of sins!" “Yeah, well, I forked your goddess for a nickel.” "What's a nickle?" “It’s great, you take your knuckle and…” (lengthy description of improbable lewd act) "Ewwww, Jonni! I thought you were talking about some form of currency." “Depends on where you’re in prison.” "Always assume it's something lewd with Jonni." She touches the criss cross of slash marks on the left side of her face. "Sad thing is I believe you. I've been to Fundertainment land. I can never eat meatballs again." "The Inhuman. Which according to Solomon, is still technically alive." "We can fix that." "Jonni, what if it isn't a threat and just misunderstood. We might be able to reason with it." “Then fire a warning shot first.” "I'm starting to think there is a pamphlet that ghosts are given on how to be creepy." “How open are we to this place just needing to tell the next occupant there’s no basement.” The door opens, you are all hit with a wave of misasma, the funk of forty thousand years pours out. It's enough to gag a maggot to be sure. "Few things fouler than a prison toilet. A ghost prison toilet is one of them." "Fuck. Advanced Darkness." “I’ve only got advanced fire.” "Please let the Inhuman not be Semprini..." “But then we get to kill Semprini.” "Okay...all in favor of leveling this place and burying whatever is in there underneath as much rubble as possible?" “Yeah, fuck this. Fuck all of whatever crystal meth humping nightmare clown orgy jamboree this is.” "I don't know, I find a corpse filled party room up there with some of the worst places we've been." OOC: If Jonni calls for aid then Gorbash will answer. OOC: JONNI WANTS ALL THE AID! OOC: Being hit by a big ball of dead crap counts as calling. Jonni, of all the body piles you have been involved with, that was definitely bottom five. “Medic! And booze! And a shower! And ruminating powder!” "I know, I just really want a warm bath and this place is making me cranky. I don't like being cranky. Eat acid, you abomination!" "We've all been there. Let's kill this thing and then loot this house down to the foundations." “EVERYTHING BURNS! I AM DEATH AND FIRE AND LUST INCARNATE!” "I only thank Ioun that we are not going to be tasked with cleaning up after this mess." OOC: I prefer to think Marshall does not dodge, he just no sells, being the holy bulldozer and all. OOC: The only thing Marshal sells is merch. Only available at Gunder and Danzi's Fundertainment Land! Get your Marshal T shirt today, now 30% less likely to burst into flames. The remaining ghosts actually request you do not burn the place down. "Only because they asked nicely." “You, uh… you might want to put out the basement then. Just a heads up.” "Tis all here in the good book: thou shalt git krunk." OOC: Eating at Fundertainment land is a good way to gain twenty pounds, or to shred your gall bladder. "Iouns wisdom can grant me the ability to cook for 10 minutes. Yet somehow all I can make is instant ramen or burritos..."

#dungeons and dragons #dnd 5e #quotes without context #ravenloft

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clownfuckery · 7 years ago

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A Waltz with the Clown

PENNYWISE X READER

This one-shot is based off a confession submitted to @pennywiseconfessions in which the reader dances with Pennywise like in Beauty and the Beast. Rated M for language and sexual content. The confession that inspired this can be found here: http://pennywiseconfessions.tumblr.com/post/166467263592

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“Dance, my little precious, dance!” Pennywise squeals as he kicks his legs out, one after the other in the most grotesque and jarring of jigs. He stands behind you, guiding your movements along with his own, like a puppet muster with your limbs attached to imaginary strings. Your body jerks this way and that way, being manhandled roughly and without finesse. One wrong movement, just one sudden yank, and you’re sure your arm will dislocate from your shoulder. You move along as best you can, trying your damnedest to match his superhuman speed and ferocity to avoid the seemingly unavoidable injury that is bound to happen if he keeps this up for much longer.

You hate it when he gets like this, which is usually after he feasts on some sorry preadolescent urchin. He always returns on a high, squealing and yapping, prancing and pouncing. He is like a hurricane entering land, tearing everything in his path, bursting through the side door of the wagon where you are kept chained to its wheel. The sound of hysterical laughter and high-pitched howls precede him, and when his bloodshot yellow eyes finally fix upon you, you know what you’re in for. The stench of blood and pain overshadows the usual scent of cotton candy and popcorn that usually emanates from him. He lunges for you then, and though most times you end up in some twisted, contorted position crying and moaning in pleasure and pain, sometimes you end up like this, becoming his marionette. Like a rag doll, you’re yanked in all directions as he dances his high away. And still, when he’s spent and sitting wide-legged on the wooden floor of the wagon, he reaches for you. The end game is always the same: Mania culminates in ferocious fucking.

“You’re not dancing!” he yells, stopping suddenly and turning you forcefully to face him. His bloody face is only two inches from your own, and his sulfurous eyes burn into yours. You try not to gag, partly at the stench of death on him, partly out of vertigo.

“You call this dancing?” you manage to pant, turning your head away. Even the stench of the sewer beyond the confines of his tower would be preferable to the one he carried now.

He glares at you for a few seconds longer, then he pouts and shakes his head in disdain, the bells of his clown suit jingling. How dare you refuse him! Or challenge him! You, the little toy he kept for his own amusement, actually had the gall to defy your captor. A growl begins to build in his throat, its deep vibration shaking you to your very core. One wrong step, and he wouldn’t think twice of snapping your neck, or even worse, tear your traitorous windpipe out of throat and wear your guts for garters. You get on the bad side of the clown, and you end up floating twenty feet in the air with the rest of his half-eaten prey.

“Can I show you something different?” you say coyly, lowering your head in submission but looking up at him. You smile sweetly, and reach out to take his hand. He looks down at your hand clutching his, looks back up at you, and you nod reassuringly. Your invitation is genuine. You know he has moments when he is playful, sweet even, like a petulant child reveling in the scraps of attention given to him. But then, just as quickly, he can snap. You know your survival thus far has depended on those moments in which you manage to keep him placated. Will he now be the monster, or the playful child?

Slowly, the corners of his mouth begin to twitch, and the most mischievous smile plays on his lips. Your own smile grows wider, and the two of you giggle in unison. His eyes shine when he notices the twinkle in yours and he knows just exactly what idea has sprung in your head. He always does.

“I’ve never danced the waltz” he says, half embarrassed “it seems so… dull”

“That’s because you’ve never had a partner” you quip, taking a step closer. He goes to grab you, but you take a step back. His smile is instantly gone.

“Uh uh” you tease “first you must… you know… take care of that” you say, wiggling your finger at his bloodied mouth.

“Ah!” he exclaims in his childlike voice. He lets go of you, and shakes his body vigorously. Then, instantly, all traces of his meal are gone. His face and suit are clean, his hair is perfectly coiffed, and he once again smells of sweets and butter. Like a walking circus, you think to yourself, a smorgasbord of delicious and enticing temptations.

“Ta-da!” he exclaims, throwing his arms out in an exaggerated gesture, causing you to laugh.

“That’s more like it. Now, put your arms around me” you instruct, and take hold of his right gloved hand and place it at the hollow of your back. Your right hand now takes his left, and he instinctively pulls you in close, so suddenly that your noses almost crash into one another’s. For a moment you remain thus, locked his in his embrace with his breath ghosting over your lips, noses nearly nuzzling. Your eyes drown in his, and were it not for his façade and restraint, you would be sure to lose yourself in the deadlights simmering within. Still, even after all this time, you wonder how you’ve managed to keep your sanity.

“Um…” you stammer, but you’re so close, so engulfed by him, that if you surrender and close the inch between you, dancing would give way to the inevitable end. But not yet. You do not wish to lose this moment in which the monster is tame just enough to enjoy the calm that hides beneath the tempest of his nature. You feel jolts of electricity spark and sputter deep in your belly, sending waves that pulsate out to your brain and the tips of your toes. He is standing so still, his hold on you firm and unwavering, his gaze fixed and unblinking. You want to, no, need to give in…

“Follow my lead” you manage to get out, and a faraway voice in your head marvels at how you managed to keep your composure. He is teasing you, just as much as you are teasing him. A thin line of drool begins to slide down his bottom lip. You take a step forward with your left foot, and his right foot goes back.

“Now move to your left with me” you instruct as you slide to the right, and he joins you.

“Now with the opposite foot, your left, you go forward and I go back with my right”

He is focused on the footwork, no longer looking at you. When your feet join once more on the third step and you slide back to the first position, his eyes go wide with understanding.

“Like a square!” he exclaims, sounding like a four year old preschooler.

“Exactly” you laugh. God, he could be so fucking adorable sometimes. Damn him.

“Let’s do it again” he says and begins the routine. “Right back, step left, together, now left front, step right, and together again”

“Oh wow, you got it! Now, follow the same routine as we move around”

Slowly, you make a turn around the small wagon. Then another. As his movements become more fluid, he smiles and laughs happily in his throat. He begins to pick up speed, and soon you are nearly flying around the small space. Suddenly, he lets go of you, and you nearly stumble. His mouth and brow are pursed in discontent.

“That isn’t right” he mutters.

“What’s wrong?” You ask alarmed. Oh no.

“Music’s not right” he says. Your eyes widen with realization and nod. The calliope music that is currently blasting through the tower stops, and he now stands with one foot tapping in unison with his index finger that taps his lip. He is thinking of waltz music, but can’t really place it, or recall it.

“Da da da dum… ting ting” you hum, remembering the classical piece with which you once learned to waltz, standing on your father’s shoes as a small girl. A pang of sadness hits your heart, but you quickly brush it away. Pennywise’s eyes go wide, he sticks his finger in the air, and his mouth opens in a wide, toothy smile. As if on cue, the beginning notes of Tale as Old as Time begin echoing off the walls of his tower. Your hands go to your mouth in shock.

“How do you know?!” you gasp, and he winks. Beauty and the Beast has always been your favorite fairy tale since you first watched it enraptured at the tender age of five. Now, a month shy of your thirtieth birthday, you stood before your very own Beast.

“Something is still wrong” Pennywise pouts, then he gives you the most lecherous grin. With a snap of his fingers, the tattered clothes you wear transform into the puffiest, sparkly, and most glamorous yellow ball gown. Your hair is now pulled into the prettiest half-do, and your feet are wrapped in gold slippers. You look down at your hands in amazement as a pair of immaculate white gloves materialize up to your elbows. You look up at Pennywise, and you are met with the view of a clown staring at you stupefied. His mouth is agape, and his eyes shine with adoration. You have no chance to react as he swoops you up suddenly, and he jumps out of the wagon, landing at the edge of his pile of keepsakes. His high-pitched laughter mixes with your own.

He places you on the floor, and pulls you against him once more.

“Now we can dance” he purrs into your ear, sending shivers through you. You say nothing, for no words were needed. Not now. You lean into him, and as the song begins to build, you let him lead. He waltzes flawlessly, and you and Pennywise begin to glide around the tower. The small waterfalls of water that fall into the cisterns around the structure begin to magically glimmer, and as you splash around in the puddles of the floor, orbs of silver light begin to float upwards from the ripples in the water. You are wrapped in a cocoon of silver white, and move transfixed, hypnotized by the way his eyes seem to shine brighter than ever before.

Around and around you go, and then much to your delight, he begins to twirl you. He holds on to your hand as you turn outwards, then pulls you back in and he lifts you high in the air, his joyous laughter causing you to soar higher, higher, higher, until you seem to be floating, only to be brought back down into the safe anchor of his arms. Without even realizing it, you begin to sing.

“Ever just the same… ever a surprise… ever as before… ever just as sure… as the sun will rise…”

“O0h ah ha ha ha ha ha… sing!” Pennywise exclaims “SING!”

The song now reaches its crescendo, and you feel weightless. Careless. Free.

“Tale as old as time… song as old as rhyme…”

He slowly brings the dance to a close.

“Beauty and the Beast” your voice fades, along with the song. The two of you now stand still, eyes locked, wrapped in each other’s arms. Your heart beats wildly, and if he had a heart, you would be damn sure its rhythm would match your own.

“So that’s the waltz” he breathes. All is quiet, save for the gentle stream of the waterfalls and the haunting lullaby of his prey floating above.

“Kiss me” you whisper. A small smile tugs at one of the corners of his mouth and he crashes his lips against yours. You finally allow yourself to become lost, you surrender to his magnetizing pull. You drown into the deep and delicious ocean of his mouth as the magic dissipates and his clawed hands tear at the aged and faded clown dress you normally wear. You welcome it, you crave it. This was your destiny, to become a prisoner of the creature that feeds on the youngest of your kind, the monster that haunted your dreams and now inhabits your waking.

Now, as your cries of ecstasy echo off the wooden beams inside the brightly lit circus wagon, tears of gratitude spill from your eyes. For no matter what horrors await you tomorrow, at least just for one night, you were a Beauty, and he was your Beast.

The End.

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If you liked this oneshot please check out my new multi chapter fic: A Monster for a Mate

#pennywise x reader #pennywise x you #pennywise fanfic #pennywise #fanfic #it 2017 #clown smut #clown daddy #clowndaddy #daddywise #pennyboi #clownboi #fanfiction #clownfuckery

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rkhugo · 8 years ago

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open event! @solo

being somewhat of a class clown figure, being approached on the street didn't set him on edge or make him nervous, it was an opportunity to be a giant goofball basically. this student, park junse, had no idea what he was getting himself into at all. hugo would teach him a lesson in approaching strangers.

“yo dude! god, i love cameras! want me to do a handstand? back flip? how bout some comedy? i got the best stand up routine--”

he wanted him to rap.

“well well well! you came to the right guy, are you a fan by chance? been to any of my shows? yeah? what the hell! you’re a student! focus on your studies you goon.” with a thwack upside the head, chastised him, tsking and shaking his head. then he pet the back of the kid’s head, chuckling amusedly. “at least you know who to go to for this little project of yours. alright get ready.”

he cracked his knuckles, rolling his head to get the creeks out of his neck and loosen up before rubbing his hands together and getting ready to spit some rhymes.

liar liar, thats right sire i breathe fire when i hit the mic aint got time for coward friars, psych i love me some bait lure ‘m in then i spit right in their face you wanna be top dog? lil boy go back to umma do your lil yorkie yap yap while you cry about the trauma of coming into the presence of true rap king and you keep crying over booboos from my poisonous sting

the student gave him a thumbs up and he returned it, bowing a bit and thanking him before parting ways. “STAY IN SCHOOL” called over his shoulder.

#rkfreestyle

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jrad-was-here-blog · 7 years ago

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End of Tour

Hi Everyone!

I know it’s been a while since I’ve updated you on my Central American journey but I’ve finally finished the tour and really wanted to keep my promise. Just to preface, since its been a while, there’s a lot written. Thank you to anyone that reads all the way through:

So I’ve been home for almost 2 months now, and… its strange. Its almost as if my inspiration has disappeared. Actually, It’s a little scary.

I’ve talked to my family and friends about it and a pattern keeps coming up in conversation. “Do you enjoy performing?” is one, or “why do you enjoy it?” is another.

I absolutely enjoy it. Being able to connect with the audience is the best part. But the in between, the time of practice and honing craft, feels like the hardest part to keep up. It’s hard to stay motivated consistently, so then I procrastinate and put myself in a cycle of self sabotage.

Maybe I’m not as motivated because I need to redefine what I love? When things are not as exciting, why does one keep going? A good example/comparison would be the start of a serious relationship. You fall in love and everything’s amazing. Things are going really well and you get in a good groove. But then suddenly... your bored. The light isn’t as bright as it used to be and you ask yourself “Am I really in love?” Does this relationship mean enough to me? I am now face to face with what I love and I’m asking myself... should I run or go deeper?

That being said, let me catch you all up on the rest of the Tour and then we’ll circle back to that question:

Where I last left, I was leaving the town of Panajachel in Guatemala to head back to Antigua.

There I performed for a deaf school called LAVOSI (Las Voces Del Silencio).

It’s great to get a chance to perform for deaf students having to rely solely on my physicality and actions rather than sound to tell a story.

When I arrived at the school, there was a beautiful shift in sound. I could hear a light ruffling of the kids clothes. Their shoes were tapping the floor as they signed and grunted. They’re was a high amount of focus and quiet across the room. A yapping dog runs into the room, breaking the silence. No one reacted except for me, so they moved to hush the dog. As things settled, one of the teachers directed me to the stage. Just around the corner, she points to a back patio of sorts. It was a small space, but a space nonetheless. I nervously got into my costume in the middle of the patio, while the kids around the corner were still in class.

The performance began. They were a very well behaved crowd, and very attentive to my actions. When they laughed, their bodies jolted forward with a grunt. I felt good about the performance. There was a deep connection with each one of the students. As I left the building, a warm satisfaction swept over me. That happens from time to time performing. It’s a nice reminder of my love for performance. That little electric chill that goes through your body is addictive. I just wanna catch it and bottle it up, so I can ask it questions.

From there I moved on to Leon, Nicaragua.

A high amount of tourists were aroound, and lots of beautiful architecture to see. White and gold trim were on some of the buildings, and then others were painted with red, pink, and blue. While in Leon, I connected with a group called Quetzal Trekkers. They ran multiple tours, and all the money they earned would be donated to NGO’s and charity projects. One of their projects, called Asociación Las Tías, is in a village right outside Leon. I took a taxi with Kim, one of the owners, to perform for the children there. As we pulled up to the village the setting shifted dramatically into a Mad Max world. A long, hardly drivable, road was lined with large piles of trash and small shack homes. Emaciated dogs stumbled along, while groups of vultures were ripping away at undefined carcasses. In the center of the village, I could hear a group of children screaming. It’s that type of scream where you can’t tell if kids are playing or in danger, so I was a little on edge at that point. However, once we arrived 3 kids ran out laughing, and their faces were covered in shiny star stickers. One girl had them covering her lips and she was so proud of her stars.

Without even knowing who I was the kids embraced me, grabbed my hand, and lead me into their fantastical world. Walking up, there were fence posts painted in bright colors, hoola-hoops lying throughout the yard, and kids racing about loving life. The teachers directed me into a little shack to change my costume. I was pretty disoriented. I would smile and nod while everyone spoke Spanish, trying my damnedest to understand what was going on. Yet with all the confusion, I fucking loved it.

A teacher with a megaphone yelled something in Spanish, and all the kids got into a line. Kim, from Quetzal Trekkers, tells me there about to have a parade through the village and its probably best to wait behind for them to finish. Before I knew what was going on, I had joined the kids in their parade. It was a very hot day, so by the time I finished parading around the village with the children, I was drenched in sweat. Kim was right, I should have stayed behind.

The performance was wild. The kids wanted so badly to come up to the “stage”. Screaming and jumping, they tugged on my pants in anticipation. I always love for kids to come up on the stage, but if you don’t set any ground rules you can lose control of them. That being said, I decided to shape the performance around the kids energy. It started with one kid running up to smack my butt, while another was stealing my props. Another kid throws himself onto the stage, growling at me. I realized the control was fading, so at that point I just stood still and let him rip. He jumps in front of me, staring me down, and growls louder. This kid sure is confident. I stood still and stared giving him all the attention. Then, slowly I turn him to the audience. As he growls and shakes, I look to the kids and point. Without even skipping a beat they erupt into a roar! It was a sea of howling kids. With my magic conductor wand (a feather duster) I direct the chorus into a beautiful roaring orchestra. Lowering my wand, I bring them into pianissimo and with a flick of my wrist, they explode into fortissimo! It was a magnificent piece.

A couple of moments, the kids would speak Spanish to me and I was little lost. This one girl chanted something to me and I thought, what a beautiful sound coming out of her mouth. It would make a wonderful song! So again, I conduct the orchestra of kids to chant this “sound”. The best part is later on, after the performance, Kim from Quetzel Trekkers in between laughing says “You know that phrase they were chanting? Yeah, they were saying ‘Shut up clown!’ over and over again!”

That my friends, made my entire day :)

After the performance, they wanted me to come back to teach the kids some juggling. We ended up making juggling balls out of balloons, rice, and plastic bags. Cheap and easy. I left that day completely fulfilled. They were all so excited to learn!

Later that week, I met a tour guide named Anri. He thought it would be great if I could perform for the village he donates school supplies to. So, I traveled with him and a small group the very next day. We gave school supplies to teachers in the village and In return they served us a meal of Sopa de Gilla, a traditional Nicaraguan chicken based soup with squash and yucca. It was delicious! Then, we traveled to the center of the village, and got all the children together for the performance. They were shy and quite, but I could see the delight in their eyes.

*NOTE* When I finish performing, loads of thoughts seep into my brain.

This is always the best time for me to write. I can learn and create more, while moving and shaping things. Most of the time my ego will look at what I just did, and say it was all shit and that I should just give up. If I give my ego a little bit of attention, that could be the point where I somehow “forget” to write my thoughts down. If all else fails, write it down. Even if my ego shows up on the paper, at least it makes it outside my mind. It even helps me immensely writing this all for you. My mind races, yet when I write at least its on a track. *END NOTE*

Moving forward, I packed my bags and headed to Granada.

Moving constantly is an interesting thing. You don’t have much time to get super attached to a place. It can be a bit disorienting. After a while though, I started getting used to it. Used to the unpacking, and packing. Meeting new people and exchanging stories. Dealing with the constant questions when I tell people “I’m a traveling clown”. I like those questions though. The more I talked about it, the more clear my ideas got of what I was doing.

Anyway back to Granada. It’s a beautiful city, and the architecture is incredible. Bright colors, and grandiose carvings all over the buildings. While there, I again had moments of fear of where to go and what to do, but I pushed on sticking to my mission. Some days I would feel disconnected with it, and then others the mission was crystal clear. While in Granada, I performed for a group called Empowerment International. It was a very large group of kids of about 85 in total. I felt a bit intimidated by that number. My common thought arose “This is going to go horribly!”

And if it does? So what! Hah! I laugh in the face of fear!

The performance did go horribly and great at the same time. There were some hilarious moments… and then other moments, crickets. A teacher at the beginning handed me a microphone and that became another magic wand. I began to beatbox, and the kids would cheer for more. It may have been too big too fast in the beginning, but so what. I made a note of it later. I was having too much fun to really care.

Later that week I performed again for the same organization, but a smaller group of kids. The energy of a place can be SO different. Sometimes it can be very intimate, and other times its just in your face, LOUD NOISES! Performing outside for the kids was oddly intimate. It was a very quite afternoon. A dry hot day, light breeze, and you could hear the squawks of chickens in the distance. The kids sat under a big tree, and the branches shaded them from the sun.

I performed, and stuck to most of my act, but improvised a bit. They giggled here and there.

*NOTE* I’ve found it difficult to end performances because most of the time there’s no going behind a curtain to end. The best I found is pulling down my red nose and saying thank you. It gives the kids a chance to see the other side. I used to think it spoiled the magic, but In a strange way it seems to enhance it. *END NOTE*

After Granada, I headed to the island of Ometepe.

The island was in the middle of a huge lake. Wild horses, bulls, and dogs were scattered everywhere. I rented a moped and cruised the island to my destination. Riding along, large bulls slowly made their way across the road. Sometimes I’d see a family of 4 riding on a small moped: father, mother, son, and baby. Pretty ballsy I’d say, but quite resourceful.

2 hours away from where the boat landed, I arrived at my hostel: Hacienda Merida. I liked this hostel for multiple reasons. There was a school connected to it, and all money made would help support the school. Also, the owner Alvaro kept the community clean by using his patented eco-bricks. The eco bricks were used water bottles stuffed with non-biodegradable materials. When using cement, you could stack eco bricks wrapped in chicken wire, and it would cut about 50% of the cement normally used. Also, Alvaro allowed the people of the community to make their own eco bricks to make a couple of bucks.

The next morning, I performed for the hostel’s school.

Rather than a semi-circle of kids, it was a full “circus circle”. My favorite part of the performance was when I turned this one kid into a “karate master”. I picked him up and had him flying through the air like ‘Crouching Tiger Hidden Dragon’. I had him fake kicking kids in the audience, and at that point I almost broke laughing. It was all in the moment, and probably the best part of the show.

Within that week, after reaching out to other people in Nicaragua to perform, and getting no response

I decided to move on to Costa Rica.

At that point, I could feel the trip reaching an end.

Once in Costa Rica I followed some Swedish guys to Monteverde (nicknamed “Cloud Forest”). Instead of rain there, it was a constant mist throughout the day. Monteverde’s based in the middle of mountains, so it gets pretty chilly at night.

I made my way through the town of Santa Elena and was able to set up performances for a public and a private Quaker school.

When I performed for the quaker school, all the kids were sitting down on wood benches inside this amazing open wooden chapel. There were big windows and wide open space for me to perform. The benches were set up in a semi-circle, and all the kids sat wide-eyed, waiting. At the beginning, the co-director Rick introduced me with a small bit between the two of us. At the end of the performance, they wanted more. They chanted again and again, “More, more!” I’d never gotten that before.

I’d say this was the best performance of the whole trip. I was having so much fun with them. I didn’t have much expectation of what was going to happen, and before performing I had a nice 30 min walk to help clear my head.

The next performance was for the public school. The principal wanted me to perform for each classroom (thats 18 in total). I performed for about 8 minutes in each class, which turned out to be a great exercise in refining moments. I took one bit and did that over and over again, and each time I did it I found more and more nuances. The more I did the bit, the more laughs I got.

I was surprised that even some of the teachers payed less attention to the performance than the kids did. One teacher was on his phone, and… he was texting! Mid performance I stopped and stared. The teacher was caught, and sheepishly put his phone away.

My last performance was at a small village near the coast of Costa Rica called Amubri. The day of the performance I brought a friend Katia with me to watch. We made our way to the village on a bus, crossed a river by boat, and then back on a bus the rest of the way. We met up with the village leader Danilo and his translator Kim. Once there, it felt a bit unorganized. Nobody really knew where to go or sit.

I wanted to create something, but I didn’t know where to start. It was kinda like street performance, where you have to attract people to the performance. The highlight of the performance was when a kid came out driving this toy jeep. He had to of been only 2 years old, but yet he was able to chase me full speed around the yard.

I discovered later his father was driving the car with a remote control. I was pretty much the village idiot for the day.

So fast forward to me coming home to NC, I’m driving home from the airport, and my Dad’s partner Mike asks me “What’s the take away from your trip?

I think the biggest thing for me was noticing how I talk to myself as an artist. I realized that the main reason my productivity suffers is because of how I talk to myself. Even when I read through my journals of the trip it was a constant cycle of me trying to discourage myself. I don’t know where it comes from, but I’m glad I’m at least aware of it. So circling back to the question “Should I run or go deeper?” Of course I want to go deeper, and to do that I need to listen. Simple as that. I’m sure the answers will reveal themselves if I just get still enough...

And thats that.

Thank you so much to everyone that followed me on this journey. I appreciate you taking the time to read through my struggles and successes. Hopefully I will be able to fill you in on new adventures with clowning soon.

But for now...

I bid you A’dieu. Until next time!

With all the love we can muster;

Sincerely, Jared & Roadie

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diyunho · 4 years ago

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The Joker x Reader - “Trapped” Part 5

Almost one year ago, someone tried to kill The Joker in a speeding car and Y/N pushed him out of the way, getting hit instead. With a fractured skull and broken bones, she was out of business for 6 months; when she finally recovered, The Queen of Gotham wasn’t the same anymore. Trapped inside her own mind and exhibiting severe cognitive impairment, Y/N’s life switched upside down without any hope of ever returning to normal.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

4 Months Pregnant

“I need customized stickers that say Baby On Board for my purple Lamborghini and the other cars I drive,” The Joker growls at his own idea whilst sharing it with the person fulfilling his wacko trades: Franco Rossi, the leader of best underground supply chain in Gotham.

“When would you like them ready Mister J? After Y/N gives birth?”

“Nope! Tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?...” Franco hesitantly inquiries about the sudden emergency since he can’t understand why The King of Gotham demands them so fast.

The Joker hates explaining yet certain people are obtuse thus they necessitate enlightenment.

“Y/N’s pregnant: when she gets in a car, the baby is also. Baby on board! Hello??” the father-to-be loses his temper.

Who can argue with The Joker’s logic? Nobody. It sort of makes sense anyway.

“Of course, Mister J. I’ll have them ready. If you drop by after 6pm, I’ll have your guns ready too.”

“Perfect!” the Joker hangs up among the ruckus coming from the office near the kitchen: sounds of shattered objects and yelling alert Richard aka Panda you’re at it again. He nonchalantly passes by in order to deliver the items to The Clown.

“Your drinks Mister J,” he gives one cup with Starbucks caramel latte to his boss and the other is placed on the table. Why does your boyfriend require 2 identical containers? It won’t take long to solve the mystery.

“Are the lids glued?”

Strange question but there’s a purpose in it.

“Yes sir. How is she doing?”

“She’s hormonal: breaking things makes her feel better which reminds me we have to hoard porcelain objects for her to wreck. NO glass!”

“Sure, I’ll tell the crew,” Richard leaves the kitchen while texting Frost. “Hulk needs more to smash,” he types the code name they gave you in the last weeks although The King knows about it: J’s the one that came up with it.

“Hey Pumpkin,” you are greeted as soon as you pop up from the office. “How’d it go?” he scrolls down on his phone and takes a sip of hot liquid.

“Ugghh!” a frustrated Y/N swings the yellow teddy bear The Joker stole for her on their first date, hitting his hand in the process. The drink flies near the fridge and splatters on the floor with minimal damage: only a tiny puddle instead of a disaster, that’s why the lids are glued.

Safety measure for The Queen’s unpredictability.

J grabs his reserve cup of coffee, paying attention now hence he dodges your renewed attack and keeps his coffee intact.

That’s why his drinks have the lids glued, in case you catch him off guard the second time it will result in negligible destruction.

It happened before.

“I don’t think so Princess,” The Joker strong grip on the container calms you a bit because you won’t be able to win this round. “Are you hungry?”

“No,” you pout and sit in his lap.

“I bet the baby is,” the secret weapon is unleashed: J discovered such a gem by accident and it works like a charm. How can Y/N say “no” if the baby is involved? She can’t.

A plate filled with a bunch of your favorite breakfast food is placed in front of you and strangely enough you’re instantly hungry.

“Extra bacon,” he purrs. “Plus chocolate dip and honey mustard for your pickled cherries. I added peanut butter olives as a bonus.”

In your defense, you’ve been having weird cravings lately.

You place the toy on the chair nearby and start eating, ogling a Joker texting back and forth with his business partners. He chews the morsel you just offered and shivers: waffle dipped in clam juice is disgusting. Maybe he should look at the food you shove in his mouth.

“Gross,” J washes the terrible taste with coffee and gets a kiss for encouragement, yet he’s aware of the connotations. Another kiss confirms it.

Let’s put it this way: besides the hormonal episodes and food demands, The Queen has had a fresh type of craving recently - The Joker kind.

More than usually.

That’s why he has to clear it up.

“I’m flattered for being the center of attention; we gotta keep in mind that contrary to the popular belief, I don’t have unlimited stamina, Pumpkin.”

You nod in agreement and unbutton his pants, then unzip them also.

“Y/N, pay attention!” J insists since you don’t give a damn about his woes. “Think about it as a two way street: The Joker Street and I Want To Break Things Street. Are you with me so far?” he double checks.

Why is he yapping so much??! I guess you should make an effort to comprehend: he’s even doodling patterns on his phone to emphasize the speech.

“When you get hormonal, Princess, let’s try and walk on the I Want To Break Things Street instead of The Joker Street, hm? The Joker Street is sometimes closed for repairs until further announcement.”

OK, OK, this is a lecture. Something about a Joker Street, he seems upset he doesn’t have one…?... Right?...

If you were him, you would be pissed Gotham didn’t name a street in your honor when you’re so important for the town.

Another peck on his neck, then your lips go down his collar bone.

“You’re not paying attention, are you?” J mutters when it’s clear his shirt won’t remain on his body for too long.

“I am,” you defend yourself.

“Oh yeah? What did I say then?”

“Ummm…” you try to piece together words among estrogen taking over. “No Joker Street?...”

“Bingo, that’s it Princess! No Joker Street, correct! Choose the other street, yes?”

This time he kisses you, excited his idea was well received when in fact, both parties are referring to unrelated concepts.

“Wait,” J dodges your touch, “Richard is calling.”

Because he’s on the phone ignoring Y/N, she is ensuring a nice surprise for later; concentrating to the maximum to avoid misspelling, the following message is sent to Franco Rossi from her cell:

“Make a landmark sign that says Joker Street.”

The King’s conversation is prolonged more than anticipated until he discerns you’re not wiggling: you feel asleep, softly snoring on his shoulder and he definitely can’t afford to wake you up.

The doctors said your body is trying to cope with the pregnancy the best way it can: if you doze off at random hours it means you ran out of fuel and you should rest. After cheating death and surviving the accident, the future mother is at high risk of serious complications which is why each day could lead to unforeseen problems.

The Joker rises from the chair holding you in his arms and after a few steps he realizes it’s difficult to walk: thanks to his unbuttoned and unzipped pants, they keep sliding lower and lower. There’s no way he will make it upstairs so maybe the sofa in the living room is the best option. He almost trips thus he begins to drag his feet on the carpet, the pants at knee level now.

“I’m reduced to a piece of meat,” J grumbles, finally making it to the couch and placing Y/N on it so she can have her power nap.

*************

6:02pm

You accompanied The King to a meeting with Seraphim, the best hacker/strategist J uses: they’ve been plotting for a while concerning D.A. Kevin Winchester. The politician is becoming a huge pain in the butt for Gotham’s underworld and something must be done; either annihilation or blackmail, it truly doesn’t matter since he’s bad for business. Due to a total lack of interest in the subject, you are exploring the surroundings quite angry The Joker dragged you here.

Luckily there’s stuff to do.

Bam! you punch the fragile glass sculpture and it splinters into a million pieces on the lavish marble floor.

Seraphim jumps at the noise, immediately recognizing his beloved possession:

“That’s…,” he gulps, appalled. “That’s a Vitriol!”

Yup, the one and only Degas Vitriol, the latest sensation taking the art universe by storm.

“She’s hormonal,” J sneers. “She breaks shit!”

“That’s valued at 150,000 dollars!” the hacker breaths in much needed oxygen regarding the atrocity unfolding at his hideout.

“So??!!” your boyfriend sucks on his teeth, irritated. “Serves you right for buying that asshole’s artsy fartsy crap!”

The Joker actually has 4 Vitriol masterpieces at the mansion yet you were strictly forbidden to destroy them, alas he gave you the office for your rampages.

You continue your exploration as they talk about God knows what until you perceive an alarming detail: Seraphim is literally screaming having a gun pointed at J.

You sneak behind him then in a split second you strike the pistol out of his hand and your fist lands on his temple with such brutality it knocks him out unconscious.

“What the hell are you doing, Y/N???” The Clown hisses at your erratic behavior.

“Hm?”

“What are you doing??!!!” he repeats, annoyed.

“S-saving you…,” you stutter, confused on why J is mad. “He was yelling and…mmm, had a gun,” you wince in pain because your knuckles hurt from the impact.

“The guy’s half deaf and sometimes he raises his voice without noticing, or did you forget??!! Now I have to wait until he comes to his senses and that’s a waste of my time, Y/N!!! Seraphim wasn’t threatening me, he was showing me his newest collectible!!! I suppose someone with half a brain can’t acknowledge the mess they’ve created!!!”

A lot of accusations thrown your way still… the last sentence brings tears in your eyes.

“I…” you bite your lower lip. “…I don’t have half of brain…”

“Wanna bet??” The Joker bites more instead of leveling with your logic: you though he was in danger and took action. If it was a real emergency, yes, you would have been the hero; it’s not and apparently he can’t appreciate your fast intervention in these circumstances.

“Y-you’re stupid…” you whisper, frustrated. “You don’t understand anything…”

Here it is -- the cataclysmic event of the century: someone called The Joker stupid. He’s beyond outraged with nothing better to utter besides a very childish:

“You’re stupid!”

Y/N turns around and stomps out of the house leaving a trail of destruction outside: she slaps the bottled water out of The Shark’s hand, kicks Panda’s shin and snatches Frost’s donut basically inhaling the sweet treat.

“I want to go h-home!!” you shout and enter the first vehicle you see, slamming the door so hard the window on the passenger side cracks.

“Jesus…” Jonny mumbles and being the sensible man that he is you are offered the whole box of pastries he purchased for his family. He can acquire more, but there’s no way in hell he wants to endure Y/N in the state she’s in.

Gotta keep Hulk calm somehow…

**************

3 Hours Afterwards

You sulk when The Joker strolls in the master bathroom frantically searching the cabinets.

“Did you see my shaver?” he asks.

“Hm?”

“Did you see my shaver?”

“I…I wouldn’t know. I only have half a brain,” the surprisingly eloquent phrase queues J his woman is holding a grudge for his earlier statement. Why wouldn’t she? He was a complete jerk.

At least you didn’t catch on to the obvious: The King of Gotham doesn’t own a shaver; hair just grows on his head.

He glimpses at Y/N soaking in the bathtub with a kid’s book in her left hand and the right hand fingers sunk into a bowl filled with ice placed at the edge of the Jacuzzi. The Joker leans over and switches your book since it’s upside down.

You huff at the unwanted help and stare at the pictures expecting he’ll look for his shaver and disappear.

You’re not that fortunate today.

“Imagine my surprise when I drove the main alley and detected a sign that says The Joker Street,” he brings up the topic.

Franco Rossi was super-efficient …sadly you ordered the item before J ran his mouth at the hacker’s place, otherwise you wouldn’t care he wants a street with his name.

“You said no… no Joker Street,” you stammer. “Now you have one,” the bitter tone makes him roll his eyes: Y/N’s brain got what it could from his monologue, he should have known better than to make it complicated.

“Excellent…” The King starts rubbing your tummy, “… precisely what I was aiming for. I’m washing the baby, not you!” he underlines when you move farther from him.

You scrunch your face displeased but let him do it because it’s for the baby.

“I know what you’re doing,” Y/N gives him a cold gaze. “U-using the baby… I’m not stupid!”

Busted, The Joker thinks. The schemer in him won’t accept defeat though.

“I didn’t say you were.”

“Yes you did!”

“You said it first!!!” he reckons, antagonized. “Therefore two stupid people put together gotta make up for a smart one!!’

“I… I don’t wanna make out…” you frown at his suggestion.

The Joker sighs, deciding not to correct the trajectory of your judgement; it sure sounds like an opportunity.

“Why not?”

“I’m tired and…and I h-hate you,” your heavy eyelids close.

“Both viable reasons, even if I have to admit you striking Seraphim like that got me quite worked up. He’s no small fry! I had to wait for one hour for him to recover; you got a mean punch, woman! The more I reflect on it, the hornier I get. Which reminds me, Pumpkin: guess what?... … … I’m hormonal too.”

No answer, Pumpkin’s out.

“Of course nobody gives a damn if I’m hormonal!” he complaints while grabbing you from the bathtub. You cling to him for a few moments prior to drifting back into your dreams.

“Thanks for getting me all wet,” J snarls at the cruel reality of having his favorite Prada suit ruined.

“You…you’re welcome…” his Queen replies in her sleep, somehow her mind clutching to reality amidst pure relaxation.

This is what two hormonal individuals are reduced to: one’s dozing off, the other is suffering in silence, although being the proud owner of the tiniest road in Gotham compensates for the mishap.

It’s a two way street.