#its funny he kept his little emo bang even as an old man

[wormadile]

Old man Uchiha cookout

[taendrils]

industrial (m.)

― ❝there are lines you shouldn’t cross, things you shouldn’t touch and skin you shouldn’t mark when your hands are missing your gloves.❞ 

• genre: fluff, smut • tags: piercer!reader, client!jungkook, smitten!jungkook, mentions of needles, inappropriate things you shouldn’t do with your piercer LMAO, koko is subby AND needy AND a sweetheart, also a bit of a brat, teasing, sexual tension, praise kink, dirty talk, messy handjob, grinding, aftercare • pairing: jungkook/female reader • wordcount: 8.1k words

PIERCER AU.

It’s human nature. Not having a care in the world for picture sceneries in favour of the mundane you’ve grown to adore—fixating on a sight, a scent, a story so much that is unnatural to go a day without it. Missing a sensation to the point it buries so deep behind your chest you can’t reach through your ribs anymore to prod at it. No, no, no. You have to be indulgent. Bad human nature. You have to relieve it.

Guilt about indulgence doesn’t pack the same punch when it comes to you. It’s easy to sink when you get to relieve it every day—ripping the seal to get your hands on the metal, taking your time presenting the needles, inhaling more of the isopropyl that lingers in the air when you pop open the disinfectant. Even from down low, the vapors float in tendril motions, enter deep only to sting right after. They are consistent—they move the same when you’re close to someone and you get to inhale again before piercing.

It’s pleasant, it makes you focus. It also should say something about you—whatever it might, you don’t blame yourself too much. Rubber feels good on your hand. It’s human nature.

People like things they shouldn’t. People like things that hurt.

The act itself reaches in a place that’s personal, and so does the background. It’s perfect, and it’s silent, and yet it keeps going. There’s music you don’t mind when the place fills out too much—you get restless when there’s a heavy break between people, like it is now. You love calming them down since the act mirrors the effect on you. It has been so long you assume it would create a crack in your persona if you voiced the restlessness out, if your tone reached any frequency other than that of relaxed. The tattoo place, along with your platinum piercer on the other side would eat you dare you break your composure—Yoongi would give the process the same attention he gives to his skin in ink. His tattoos speak for him more than the metal on his tongue dares, touching up to his neck and disappearing under his sleeves, and so does the dove under his ear.

You’re less marked, so people find fascination in other parts of you. Jungkook thinks he doesn’t have to dig deep, he sees their surface as soon as he walks into the parlour. He notices how each element of the hall is in harmony with another, the designs on the walls modern enough to light up innovation, the wood they’re framed by sculpted so they pay tribute to old school. The details hit him all at once, and a beat too late he realises he would have got lost in them, delayed his appointment in favour of marvelling, weren’t it for you waiting at the reception.

You’re leaning against the wall fit between two pictures in asymmetry, watching Yoongi who sits near the said desk with a girl. The piercer gestures towards the jewelry displayed, and Jungkook can make out a few bits of their conversation before his eyes drift towards you again. Soft classics play on the speakers, supported by the tap of your fingers on your thigh. A passive action, and then another.

The bell tingling doesn’t steal your attention from the focal point, instead walking up to join the pair at the desk, but Jungkook catches the black-haired man behind the counter turning in his direction and offering a warm smile.

“This yours?” you tilt your head towards the tattooed man.

Yoongi doesn’t take his eyes off the jewelry, just makes a noncommittal noise from the back of his throat.

“What’s she getting?”

“Two flats, opals.”

“Mm. Pretty stones for pretty girls,” you acknowledge with a smile the girl mirrors. “He has a lot of opinions, but don’t listen to him. If he’s one hair away from the place you suggest, tell me after and I’ll file a complaint, ok?”

The tension in her body eases, and you don’t miss the hints of the grin Yoongi suppresses as he shakes his head. “You need to stop before all my clients leave.”

“Rich from the guy who keeps telling them he’s a master of stabbing with pointy objects,” the same guy who noticed Jungkook tuts as he fixes Yoongi with an eyebrow.

“Jimin has a point. No one else at this hour for him to scare?”

“None for him. None for you either until one hour before closing–you have three then.” He fidgets a bit before the calm smile he’s been sporting turns devious. “Well, none except for him.”

Your eyes settle on him at last, and funny fact it is, how the brain gives so many commands to the muscles faster than the hundredth part of a millisecond, yet Jungkook’s body cannot form a single reaction.

“So you’re mine then, aren’t you?” You nod in appraisal before Jungkook can even stutter, bottom lip jutting out. He’s rendered speechless at the exchange since words weigh heavier on Jungkook’s tongue, and the process takes longer to finish. With strangers he’s careful, he pauses and drags out the sound long enough to avoid mistakes, similar to what you’re doing now when you are analysing him. He’s confident enough to guess how for you they seem easier–you speak as each sound floats on water, weightless before it drifts away.

The heaviness lies buried in how you watch, the same way an audience would as a play begins, attentive and searching for meaning in the deeper crevices of him. He regains access to his breath the moment you step away, hands working behind your back and words neutering some of the acid burning his loins.

“Unless you’re here for a tattoo. None of our artists can talk to you at the moment, they’re all caught up with appointments.”

You’re the only one to come closer to him, and that triggers Jungkook’s sense of self to search for an answer. He fights with it at the tip of his tongue, and he sees the way you’re waiting, staring. He pictures you hanging onto the silence, waiting for his words to continue the thread.

“Uh, no, I–I’m here for you. For the piercing.”

And his words, supposed to be picked with care, crumble under power that’s passive, getting Jungkook tangled in their meaning. 

You’re dressed casually, the clothes loose enough for the fit not to disturb you. He focuses on the smooth curve of your shoulder that has yet to be marked, the smallest trace of a collarbone hidden in the depths of your dark turtleneck. He’s gliding up without meaning to, so lost in details he doesn’t know where to look anymore.

“Alright. And you know what you want?” You don’t react until he nods and satisfaction seeps through the corners of the smile you’ve been fighting, his gaze the same level as the lifted corners that lead his gaze to your ears.

Maybe to the three hoops decorating your lobes, complemented by the little heart on the inside of your ear, or higher, where he sees the object of his desire in your right ear, a long silver bar that sits high on your ear, length pressed diagonally and ends adorned with metal spikes.

“Industrial,” he breathes out.

It’s hard to say what defines the pause taken. 

“Great. Please take your time and complete the form, okay?” Your hair is pulled up, revealing more hoops stacked on top of the other ear he gets to look better at as you turn around. “I’ll wait for you inside.”

Jungkook finds said form on Jimin’s desk. Less flustered, he listens to Jimin filling in the blanks. “We have a machine for sterilising jewelry. Takes around fifteen minutes, long enough for you to read through this and ask questions.”

Now that he has nothing to dote on, despite the sight Jimin is, Jungkook feels weirdly self-conscious as he waits, the reminder that you would have started by now if he made a move when he should have a constant in his mind. He fidgets, thighs squeezing together to distract his mind before the thought spills out, “Did I keep you guys for too long?”

“The appointment’s yours.” Jimin shrugs as he passes the papers. “First time at a studio?”

Jungkook thinks in retrospect at the lobes he did by himself when he was younger and still wearing his emo bangs–half rebellion, half need to appear cooler to his peers. He nods with his lips pursed tightly enough so they contain his embarrassment.

“There are lots to come by nowadays. You shouldn’t be worried, she’s very lithe and quick. Patient too.”

His heartbeat finds its steady rhythm and doesn’t suffocate him like it did before. It calms before it takes the leap into his stomach, when Jimin, whose gestures lack the innocence his face suggests, forgets to add:

“Talks like that to cute little things.”

“Oh.”

Oh.

Good, he swallows. You’re patient. He’ll keep that in mind.

A boy true to his word, a boy that keeps to his promises, Jungkook’s mind wraps up on the idea after signing the ink into the paper and as soon as he is near you.

“All done?” you ask with no hurry, and Jungkook hums as he sits on the piercing table, careful so he does not move the sheets of paper. “Good. Let me look at you?”

The coil in his stomach tightens so easily, he’s so easy to rile up and you’re not even doing anything. You’re not trying to. And that drives him a little crazy. Fantasies Jungkook has never dared to imagine with anyone he kept a professional relationship with stretch his mind open, and he’s open to them when more enter through the cracks he created.

“I need to see your ear, see if the fold’s right.”

He swallows as you come close, hands already gloved. Without missing a beat, he tilts his head to give you better access and doesn’t quite realise how long his hair got until you brush it away from his ear, fingers holding the strands in place. His lungs are still from the proximity, inhaling as much as they can take after you voice your approval. And the more he tries to detach from the situation, the more he dives headfirst into the fantasy. Jungkook feels you twist the ends and pin his hair aside.

The mind is a strange place.

“Don’t want you to get scared, alright?” you coo and this careful treading around him makes him dizzy, stirs in his loins, and the feeling presses deeper there, deeper and hotter than it should from the heat brought by Jimin’s words. “I’ll explain everything to you as we work, hmm?”

“Yeah, sure,” he speaks and is reminded this is his first attempt at conversation in a while. “I’d like that.”

It dawns upon him how to you he sounds willing, much too willing, and he blames it on eagerness. Besides willing, he’s much too aware of everything surrounding him, of every little sound in the quiet room. The tick of the clock is a nice diffused background noise as you check the form to the last detail. “Who did those then, Jungkook?”

Your prying is gentle, a puzzle piece taken from a waiting game that coaxes him out until his answer rises naturally. Of course you’d feel better if he talked. That much is obvious, and he is a fool, but that obvious matters less to him when he sees how pleased you are with your question. A look which he aspires to cause, which pulls his want deeper–a look he needs to see again.

“Uh, another studio. But I didn’t like it.” The explanation that follows comes out of his mouth at once.

“I had a friend, Namjoon,” he begins and takes note how your eyebrows raise and your gaze turns playful at his word choice. “I mean, have. He had his tongue pierced here, and I bugged him about it until he told me.”

The first truth.

“Was it recent?” you ask as you change the pair of gloves, tossing the used pair away.

“He got it done after his girlfriend, but he refused to tell me. I asked for a while.” His shame drifts away in tone with his ramble and he is bold enough to let his gaze fall down the curve of your waist.

“Namjoon, you said? Doesn’t ring a bell. Wish it did by your reaction though.” You turn back to him and his gaze snaps back up.

“Ah, he’s kinda hard to miss though.” His lips remain sealed, but the corners of his mouth rise as high as they can go. Jungkook doesn’t know how or why he’s still talking, but he can distinguish a tender amusement. “Tall, huge dimples and smiles like this.” He keeps the same smile until you acknowledge it, cheeks puffed up and lash lines surrounded by endearing creases.

You shake your head in endearment. “Stubborn, are you?”

“Texted him about it for weeks. Pestered him to tell me. Threatened to do them myself.” Half a truth. Sure, he did that too, but for the most part he whined about it, rattled him to Seokjin and sent messages with questionable emojis. Seeing his friends take the leap for an interest Jungkook spent days looking up, it flickered light back into Jungkook–a passion for something he thought he buried long ago. “I even unmuted the groupchat.”

He sees the effect of those texts in real time. All those ‘joonie hyungg 😊😊~’s were worth it because he earns a laugh from you.

“Glad you let me do my job. I will mark you now, okay?” There’s so much comfort in your conversation he almost forgets what he came here for. As the realisation comes, a sigh threatens to leave his lips. He’s not as worried about the pain as he is worried he’ll embarrass himself somehow. Jungkook is strong now, can handle pain better than the bunch of his hyungs combined, but it doesn’t make him any less self-conscious.

“You have to lie down for it.” You guide him through it, Jungkook lowering his body slowly after the lead of your palm. Maybe he did it wrong?

One dot, two dots. The time to obsess over it passes. On his left, the paper crumples under his fist and he hates the way it sounds, yet he grips the sheet like it is a lever holding him to reality.

“Everything okay?”

“Mhm,” he says, breathing out his bravery and focus. You mention something about titanium and how good it is for piercings in passing, or maybe you linger on it more. He retains nothing, just breathes in the alcohol. Your hands are delicate, and no matter how light your grip is, it seems assured.

Rubber feels good, so does your touch.

“Breathe in for me.” Eyes glossy and mind hazy, he tries his best to listen– “One, two, three, and out. You’re doing well.”

The sting is a lot more than he expected, and he feels the blood rushing to his ear, warm and muted. Everything is more. Its pain lingers, but so does the ghost of your touch, balancing the pleasure. Your voice is breathier, and it sounds closer than comfortable, so close that the warmth of your breath spreads across his skin and a tremor follows it along his spine. When his ear reddens, he hopes you assume it’s because of the piercing.

“There we go,” you whisper. “Halfway done. How’s that?”

“It’s good.” The lump in his throat doesn’t budge. If you notice how his voice trembles, you don’t mention it, and neither do you give him space to think. Your thumb and index massage circles over hard tissue, and he braces for what’s coming next. The fact that your movements do not change pushes against his wish to stay composed, and Jungkook barely suppresses the soft sighs tickling the roof of his mouth.

“Tell me when you’re ready.”

Jungkook sinks into it and nods in rhythm complimentary to your touch. “Read–oh.”

The sound he lets out you take in with a sharp inhale. Despite it, your next steps are smooth, bar settling in cozy in the tight space, but there’s a pause that extends past a few heartbeats where he grows more aware, more sensitive to the tips of your fingers. He feels them tremble as they screw in the ball–feels it tingle on his skin and past his gut.

“Don’t get up so fast,” Jungkook tries to listen, but he’s also impatient. It never dawns on him how close you might be until he’s half-up, propped on his elbows and overwhelmed by the clarity of your features. He is hung on the line that defines your cupid’s bow, and how foul his cravings are. He could run his finger across it–has a feeling you wouldn’t stop him. Driven by his boldness, he’s thinking of dropping his gaze lower. When he does, his heart pummels and a surge of anxiety has his eyes dart back to yours. The effect is cathartic, bits of his rationality falling down in chains.

His mouth drops open at what he finds, the pair of pupils dark and blown out. Less professional. More like you want to cross a line.

The reaction for when you break away is much slower, and your intention misses the mark as Jungkook teeth lightly scrape his lip. “Have you thought about more places?” you blurt out.

Jungkook’s mind goes to the place you’re staring. “My mouth.”

And he swears by anything he has you leave a shard of your composure right there and cut him open with it, reach into his flesh and tug. It’s bad, he shouldn’t let you, but he is good at observing. He has the experience, sees his own behaviours as patterns he’s picked from others. He is right about this. He is sure.

Yet he never expects you to confirm it, reaching out to drag your thumb across his bottom lip, moving in circles to trace the top as well before you come down again and press.

“It’s soft. Gentle.” you breathe out. “I like it.”

It’s gentle and it’s pliant cause his mouth opens more under the weight, and you’re reaching a tint deeper, nail getting dangerously close to his tongue.

“Makes–makes a good fit.”

Rubber feels good there too. He doesn’t mind the taste either.

“But your piercing–” you stutter and his eyebrows shoot up at how you get up all of a sudden only to return with a mirror, grip tight around its rim. Less relaxed. “Here. You should see it.”

You end up passing him the mirror and he gasps at the image, at the bar that’s sitting on his ear. Even with your previous position, excitement is impossible to contain. “I love it.” 

“Please tell your groupchat too,” you tease, part of the tension eased from your shoulders, obvious in the delight that surges through you at his words. He’s still peeking in the mirror, yet the reflection that steals his attention is the one of satisfaction in your smile. His satisfaction.

“I will. It’s amazing, really. I like it a lot,” he adds as if he hasn’t said enough.

“I’m glad. Can’t wait till Yoongi hears about this.” You’re busy with a Q-Tip he braces for a second too late, yet does nothing but obey when you ask him to stay still, then clean the piercing for the last time. The story continues. “He missed the angle last time. He’s gonna be so threatened.”

“Why did he miss?” Jungkook says, curiosity making him lean closer. His height was not something you cared for when he walked in, you note, but he’s hard to ignore now that he’s standing up. You give up trying to organise the items scattered on your table and wipe a hand across your forehead.

“Ah, well. He’s a bit... unorthodox, but gets the job done.”

“And what about you?”

You purse your lips as you muster the answer, unsure of the letters pouring out. “I... I like to play it safe.”

And safe you played, a bitter part of Jungkook would retort. But now that he’s opened the can, the curiosity about you reigns beyond his pettiness. His mind, an ocean on the road to regaining tranquility, has its waters disrupted when he poses questions about parts of you that interested him.

“Is it like that with the tattoos?”

“I do keep them safe.” By the speed of your reply, this is a frequent topic of conversation. Your words, however, match two puzzle pieces that share the same colour, but they don’t fit near the other. They’re jumbled together, corners forced and unnatural. His stomach burns regardless. So they’re hidden from display, bordering on personal.

Like him, you’re responding to questions reserved for people you have some sort of a relation with. The one with Jungkook is supposed to be inexistent. He’s a client, you’re a piercer, he remembers, as he fears to call you his piercer yet. Places where you might have ink pop up in his mind and replace the guidance of his conscience: neck, chest, stomach, thighs.

“Didn’t do the same for this one.” You point to the ear with the bar matching his. “Toughest to heal. Got it when I barely knew anything.”

The angle is not perfect like his, he can now see after the first glance.

“You like it a lot though.” He pouts, and it’s a statement he tests under his confusion.

“It’s one of my weaknesses. A fun memory.”

“So you didn’t do that always?”

Jungkook is a boy true to himself, but much too proud to admit things often. He has a goal, has found more means to the end he chases. Out of the possibilities, there are fairer choices, but all of those lead towards a path with chances and time he doesn’t have. Guilt eats at him about pressing, but his heart speaks over his brain.

“Didn’t do what?”

Jeon Jungkook doesn’t do things in halves–does his best and sweats hard for his aspiration. Thus, he’ll find time later to appeal to his conscience. The distance between you clears the fog out of his mind, his need clear. He cannot leave it like that, not with knowing you never attempted to shut him out.

“Play it safe?”

“No. But you… you shouldn’t.” You’re frowning, deep in thought, every second spent waiting pressing layers into both his hope and uncertainty–fighting a battle that your hesitation wins over whatever desire he thought you may have.“Here’s my number. Call me if you’re experiencing any troubles during the healing process and we’ll see what we can do.”

Distracted, you pass him a card he puts in his pocket. You continue on about the cleaning process and offer him options for where to buy them from as the part of him full of hope deflates, hates the reversion to nothing, hates it more than is considered normal. Whatever this was, he doesn’t want to lose it, but he respects you, sits and accepts. “Of course. Will I have to answer as many questions?”

“Ah–no, not really. I wanted you to be comfortable. I just saw...” There’s breath caught in your throat, lodged between the cracks in your calamity and assurance. You pant to let it out. “You’ve been looking at me.”

Hope is fragile yet devious. A parasitic entity that leads and bites off however much it likes from whoever it pleases. Even as he meant to give up, its last particle was left to grow.

“Yeah?” Jungkook is scared yet bold, the step he takes placing his boot on the line you’ve never dared to cross before. His eyes are big and there’s a glint that’s pleading to be noticed. “And if I call… you’ll take care of it?” He fears your answer, he fears how rushed he is, how much it means.

“I will. We’ll look at it once you come back to downsize the bar.” You try to soothe him, reaching to squeeze his shoulder. His shirt gets pulled a tint, and what you meant to do renders forgotten. The tips of your fingers are lured towards warm skin. Weak and indulgent, they dip under the cotton.

A brief contact and the intent changes. Your touch borders everywhere–a slow drag up the nape of his neck and down his front, fingers splaying out to cover more surface.

“Anything else?” he gulps, lost in the sight of your mouth.

“Don’t touch it. Don’t sleep on it.” Your hand rests over his throat, thumb brushing up and down his pulse point. “Promise you’ll listen?”

“Yeah, I’ll listen.” The admission is quiet, not risking to tear apart at the tension. With close he is to you, the words are breathy with his whisper. “I’ll listen to you.”

The mind is a very strange place. Curls around the impossible and tortures until you do something about it. It’s human nature.

Jungkook’s voice breaks with the last bit of bravery he has.

“I’ll do how you ask.”

“Fuck, Jungkook–” You leave your sentence unfinished because you’re way too busy with your lips on his, you’re kissing him, tongue licking into his mouth before you turn aggressive. There’s no second to wait, no moment to take for breath, his senses are overwhelmed from you gripping his jaw to bring him to your level. Jungkook can’t think, he just touches, makes it clear how much he likes it, nails digging into your sides. He brings you closer, tattooed hand fitting how you like it over your waist, needy and hurting your ribs from how tight you’re pressed against him, while the other slots over the nape of your neck, big enough to cover it whole.  

He clutches you as if you’re a silver lining in an open space, and there’s so much Jungkook all at once and everywhere around you. There’s electricity buzzing under your skin at the way he moans into the kiss when you bite his lip, pulling you back with him as leans against the drawer, thighs spreading for you to fit until you’re pressed flush against him. Your skin is so hot and you’re so drunk on need you’d peel the layers off and fit yourself into a piece of him, feel his moan reverberate through your being. You would, and you do.

When you break away, you don’t care, that’s what Jungkook registers. You’re nosing his neck, lips closing around a sweet spot under his ear. He winces from the sting, though it is short-lived. Another wave of arousal hits you exhale over the raw skin like the breath has been fucked out of you. He’s so sensitive there, and you don’t care to be gentle, don’t care to soothe the ache—you’re taking for yourself. It’s you being selfish.

His head spins so hard around the idea he has to hold onto you to stay on his feet.

Jungkook wants that, wants you to take. To ask. It thrills him how dangerous that notion is, what he would do.

There’s a soft sound you make right after you bite, a sigh that drips into his blood and travels straight to his dick. Faint cries of his name echo in an empty head, shake him to a blurry reality, paired with kisses under his jaw, on the mole that’s so close to his lip. “Jungkook, we can’t.”

With his inner voice gone, his head is empty and a beat too late he registers you’re speaking to him. He nods into your hair, chest rising and falling shallowly, again and again until he’s able to speak. He swears. Swears he understands but no part of him can do so, if you tell him to stop and yet coax him into giving in.

His neck is wet with traces of your lip balm. “Okay, okay, just—give me a second,”

“No, no—” Frantic, you cup his cheek and without thinking he leans into it, expression softening. Your thumb rubs circles onto the bone, caress it until you pry his eyes open, until he can look at you. “Not here.”

Before he can act, you lace his fingers with yours and lead him towards your bathroom, pull hard on the handle, and in your rush, you use the same force to press him into the door as it closes. Jungkook whines, shameless, hips bucking into you. In his high pitch you can capture the exact moment his last thread of sanity bids its goodbye, leaving him with putrid needs that shudder out of him like they do whenever he is close.

“God, look at you,” you whisper in wonder, latching to his mouth.

Cold runs up his arm and to his sides when you pin his wrist away, knuckles brushing against the tiles. The room’s dense, its width a fraction of the main hall. Its monochrome walls are closing in on the both of you, two specks of colour squeezed together in the tight space.

All at once, he’s hit with how good you smell, tinges of his cologne having rubbed off on you. A different aroma, one that’s sweet and masculine, pierces his senses with the same strength of an alcohol, but instead of focusing, it makes him hazy—hazy and restless. Even in his current state, he can more or less see the same effect on you.

Jungkook looks at you through strands of hair and dropped eyelids, head thrown against the door. “You like it?”

You grin, fingers hooking in the belt loops on his sides and use them to move his hips so his cock drags right into the space between your thighs. “Should I show you or let you guess?”

His hips work with more vigour, coil in his belly pulled too tight while you take your time reciprocating. The softest friction you give back is enough to have him gasping, dick hardening against you.

“You’re the one who seems to like this quite a lot,” You reach under his shirt to stress your point, molding your palms in the deep lines that define his abdomen. They explore, trailing higher until they brush against a nipple, the image of how a bar would fit there a dangerous addition in your head.

“Yeah,” He bites his lip, no point in not being honest now that you have him like this. “I do.”

Once you hear him, you grow more determined, hand closing high around his side and on his ribs. Next thing he knows you're back to his nipple, rolling your thumb over it, the stimulation too much too soon. Jungkook seeks to take your focus from it, but you don't relent.

“Are you sure this is okay?” he pouts before biting back a moan, “I wouldn't want to keep you.”

The moment you hear him, you laugh, fond and delirious—and press harder when you touch. “Yes, Jungkook, I do.”

If he had any walls left, he's sure you would have them crumble when you ask with your other hand hovering on the elastic of his boxers, “Do you?”

He nods, speaks from under his breath, “You have no idea.”

Mischief and anticipation dance in your irises, and when you smile, you do it with full teeth, every bit the bad wolf who's waiting to eat him up. You've chosen to prolong the said wait because instead of gripping, your finger branches out to trace the underside of his dick.

“You can’t do that to me,” he whines, soft voice murmuring pleas.

Jungkook’s torso, yet to be marked, is a pleasant path, one you’d cross again and again, warm and smooth and addicting—it takes most of your willpower to stop, staring him right in the eye with an eyebrow raised. “Can’t do what?”

“You shouldn’t touch me,” Meek and sincere, he lifts your chin and you freeze with your chest pressed against his. “Not if you want to tease.”

It’s a silent beg, because even if he missed being teased, he needs you. He’s so wound up he doesn’t think he can stand it, but he's still proud. Somewhat.

Your expression remains unreadable, but your actions speak loudest when you touch him skin on skin, hand sneaking under his boxers, and—oh.

He restrained himself the best he could when he had close to nothing, but now, with his head fallen back, he moans for you like he’s singing. The more you tighten your grip, the more his octave jumps over the classics you’d been so fond of.

“Careful, baby,” you tut as you spread the precum over his tip and use your body weight to still his shaking thighs. “You could hurt yourself.”

“S-sorry, ah—” he stutters, hand caught between the both of you, squeezing yours over the cotton of his sweatpants. “Feels good.”

He's not used to it, being the centre of attention, people putting lights too bright on him. Can't decide if he likes it or not, though it has him weak. His mind is on you, your time, your pleasure. On how he craves for you to feel him, needs you to feel good. On how he is going to make use of the semblance of control he hasn't given up yet to show you what you're doing to him.

So he does. He walks you back until your hips knock against the sink, pins you the side that is closest to him. Eagerness overcomes him at the impact, pulling at the hem of your shirt, and you cater to his wishes, letting him remove your top. With the layer peeled off, the scene is rougher and more intimate, secrets shared by the two of you tangled in this background, he sees them, lets them drive him crazy.

“How about this?”

It's such a delicate thing, how your bare shoulder connects with its reflection in the mirror. His gaze explores your body, landing on the upper parts covered in ink. Beginning at your sternum, a young lotus connects to a larger piece spread on the top of your torso, adorned with leaves and petals that bloom from its center. The thread between the flower and the full piece is so thin, his tongue would cover it whole.

It's the swell of your breasts that has him distracted and split between choices. But there’s something so primal about the object of his desire in front of him, and his made-up mind can't wait for encouragement, cupping them in wonder under your bra. Your gasp when he brushes against a nipple is so delicious he's the one who can't help himself, dipping his head to get a taste. He sucks like he's expecting praise, grinds more into you and he can't decide if the action is for you or himself.

“Jungkook, ah—” you groan, and the reaction stirs him up further. That mind of his which has been empty is quick to fill out with more than he can handle.

He'd drop down to his knees and crawl as long as you moaned and waited for him like that. He'd kiss and lick up the thigh that's pushing against his dick, hold it as he spread you open with his tongue. By nature, he's a pleaser, and thoughts like these are natural—as natural as those that keep coming, those about himself. They retell how easy it was for him to lose himself, far to the point of no return. A sweetheart in the face of sin.

It's almost laughable how gone he is and what it might say about him, about how down below he really belongs. Well, it's comfortable. He likes it down there.

Lower places are for those who lose, and Jungkook wouldn't mind losing to you, as long as he has a place down and a fighting chance.

He drops to his knees slowly, tongue dragging through the middle of your tattoo and down, kissing his way to the button of your jeans. In a snap, he pops them open, considers letting go, all doe eyes and messy waves that cover folded cartilage and stop right before a lobe marked by matching silver hoops, and now an industrial. Without thought, he catches the flimsy zipper in his mouth then drags it down where he said he belonged, holding onto the metal until the end. His arms flex under your thighs, gripping you tighter as he drops the zipper but not the eye contact. He has to be sure your eyes are on him when that playful glint takes over and his tongue flattens against the front of your jeans.

He's not bad for wanting it, is he?

Your fingers in his hair yank his head back, and oh, this one's different from the sting before—it spreads tingles across his scalp. “But I liked you this way…” He sulks, soft hair putty in your hand.

And he did, still does. Thighs on either side of his head, your face, breathless and grinning above, there's nothing wrong with this angle. “And here I was trying to take it slow.”

On his knees for you, it seems that now he finds the time to be a brat. “Your hands down my pants is slow now?”

You arch an eyebrow. “Lots of things you want to do, hm?”

Equal parts eager and shy, Jungkook nods, moving to lean on your thigh. You're fast to react, hand in his hair coming in between to protect his piercing. He nods with his head in your palm, noses along the inseam of your jeans.

“You just need to...let me.” His hand slithers under the soft flesh and splay on your ass to make his point. For the final dot, he feels for your back pockets, uses them as support to drag down the material until he can see your underwear.

“What about what I want?” you scoff when he's midway through pulling your pants down. “Aren't you being a little selfish?”

He's taken aback by your pout, your always-tender touch. “Uh—”

“You didn't sit to think about it, did you baby?” Wide eyes look up at you, a pang of strange guilt overcoming him. “Whether I want you like this?”

Jungkook wonders about the game you're playing. “I'm sorry—”

Habits force him to be polite, guide you to be patient.

“Poor little heart.” You caress his jaw, his mouth, and this time, his lips close around your finger. “Get up.”

He obeys but not without a fight inside him. Body to body, you soothe the frown off his face with kisses up his neck, paying attention to the noises he makes when you tug at his hair again.

“You looked so good before. Right here,” you whisper when he drops into the touch.

Praise relaxes him, opens up his every pore, pours heat straight to his gut. He knows. Yet part of him has yet to get over how you denied him, occurrence too rare for him to get used to it.

“It's less fun like that.” Jungkook's aware of how he sounds: like a little brat, petulant. As good as he is, it thrills him when he gets to act this way.

“Is it? Baby got a taste and now he can't get enough?” You're mocking but gentle, how he likes to be teased.

He did miss it: missed being teased, missed tearing up a bit.

“I didn't even have to ask to bring you to your knees.” You grip his hair tighter and he moves to the direction your reins are pulling. Ah, missed having his senses tortured. “So willing. So easy.”

“Yes—” he babbles, doesn't care for much when you handle him like that. Neither can he speak much, yet he is aware of everything, is sensitive to everything—shivers as your heel nudges his calf.

“I think it's more fun when you work for it, don't you agree,” You motion at his pants, and he scrambles to drop them to his knees for you stroke his cock, “there's thrill in the chase.”

How true that is. Jungkook aches for a chance to show to you how he is when there's chase involved.

“For you,” he says, tone flat and tired.

“Then it's not the case?”

He shakes his head, now bordering on a dangerous edge. Competition never hurt him. Neither did playing it safe, but he doesn't care to play it safe now that it's about you.

“For you, all for you—” he grabs your wrists and brings them down until you cup him with both hands, rocks his hips into the loose space. “Please let me do something.”

Or make me, is the sentence he leaves buried. More important for him is to hang tight onto your permission, yet hatred over not feeling needed threatens to swallow down his arousal and purge back anger. It's a twisted game he often plays, how long he can deny himself, how much he can hold before he snaps.

He's been close to snapping from the beginning, so out of his mind, he'd do anything you asked. Why weren't you asking? Jungkook would love for you to tell him how to make you a mess, say the word and he would be on his feet, down on his knees. He’s aware it paints a pretty picture when he does it.

Taking pity on him, you bring his hands down to your underwear and remove it together. It flies right past his ego—the immediate reaction is to reach for his own, but you stop him by shaking your head.

You peek down, shudder when you see how hard he is. “Leave them on. It's not safe.”

“Like this then?” Jungkook holds you spread for him as he drags his clothed cock over your clit. He's moving so slow he's shaking. There's so much desire which had to be buried down for him to keep to his word, to respect the promise that he'd listen. “Good?”

“Mm, good.” His chest swells with pride, and he gasps when he feels how wet you are, staining the material. Tentatively, he slides a finger in, then another, scissoring them inside. He goes deeper until he's sure they're coated, gathers the strings of arousal and brings them back to your clit. “That's it—”

The pressure is built with his thumb over your clit, careful and decisive the more you pick the volume. He'd muffle those noises with his mouth or make them louder with his tongue, yet he doesn't have the courage, thus he settles for your neck. It's a welcome distraction, a purpose that's holding him to earth when you're rocking back against him, the sight of you so desperate doing things to him.

“Fuck, you're leaving marks,” you whisper to yourself. It sounds holier, more like a revelation you have bare for him, with your hair messy and neck bit.

“I just. Need something to do, with—with my mouth.” He hurts through the seconds he takes to explain. Exists through his need. “Don't like it empty.”

A call of his name breaks the hold he had.

“If you want to be rough, you can.”

“What?” His head shoots up, confusion written across unfocused eyes. “W-Why?”

“I see you.” You swipe at hair matted over his forehead, mold your print in the drops of sweat laid over the veins in his neck. “And I want you to have it.”

Best case, Jungkook would need a few moments to process this, but you don't give him the pleasure. Every word is a shot fired on his self-control.

“I need you to feel good.” your voice is saccharine, its echo dripping in pleas through his bones. “That's what will make it better.”

“But then...” You're wrapping your thighs around his waist, letting him in. He has no idea what he's protesting.

That urge to suppress, that need, their noise is not yet muted—he hates how he's not done enough. Almost feels useless. But you need him for something else. Proof to his statement is the conviction attached to your request.

“You said you'll listen.” Although you don't mention his behaviour until now, implications hang heavy. “Why aren't you doing that when I tell you to do as you please?”

He's still lost, but now a new desire creeps up, whispering to him how nice it would be to obey. To stomp on his previous effort.

Too many sounds ring in his head, like radio static that shuts off when you press your forehead against his. “Be good, baby. Let go on me.”

Nice and sweet.

Jungkook listens and unravels before you. With rough drags of his cock against your pussy, you can't differentiate whether the mess on his boxers comes from you or him. He's messy yet mindful, angling up his thrusts, making the hit land right onto your clit, deep like he wants to fuck into you.

“Yes, yes—ngh—” This time it comes from him, but you're not far, with how you dig your nails into his muscles. Memories he'll feel for days, along with the strain it takes to keep the both of you upright. He speeds up as soon as you urge him to go faster, a toy on arches, flared up because of your request. Drifting away with the sensation, he almost loses footing when you whisper you're close.

Instead of hazy, the words are electric—he's more awake than he's ever been. Puts in so much work his bones rattle and lids screw shut when you cum, sounds so pretty and long they stretch out to rip his orgasm out of him.

Solemnly, his world quiets.

“You good, baby?” Serene, you massage the nape of his neck and let him cling to you until he can breathe again, “Gave me plenty to clean.”

Jungkook stares at the mess between your bodies before he's puffing out a laugh, “I could be better.”

You sit with him until he parts from you, then put your clothes back on. “Wait here, there's stuff in the cabinet that can help.”

“Hey...” you turn to him in question and he kisses you again. “Thank you.”

You return with the necessary supplies, handing him some wipes as you bend down to disinfect the sink. “It's not much, but it's not like I expected guys throwing themselves at me in my own shop.”

“I did not!” he puffs as he cleans himself up, winces from the sensitivity. “You just... well. Did that!”

“My job?” His eyes are wide and accusing, full of indignation. When you look back, he stares back as if challenged, ready to debate you. “I won't repeat the offense.”

Jungkook steps in front of you, confident and looming. “I'm not leaving until you admit.”

“I'll admit.” You nod, face brightening up as you tease him. “I was too good at my job and made you starstruck.”

He raises an eyebrow. “I'll be here all day.”

“There's security.”

“I'm strong.” His arms wrap around your waist for emphasis. You relax in his hold.

“I saw, big boy.” He's about to say something else but you're quick to cup his face and steal the words off his lips, tap at his pocket. “Hold onto this, okay? And call me if there's any trouble.”

Minutes after exiting, he has the gall to unmute his phone and sees the notifications pop; the top being a text from Namjoon in the groupchat sent over 20 minutes ago. 

that guy [4:16 p.m]: jsyk i respect your opinion but i'm putting this shit on mute if you mention anything about the PC version being better again

joonie hyung [4:50 p.m]: Jungkook?  joonie hyung [4:50 p.m]: Well? How did it go? 

Jungkook chuckles to himself, sitting on a nearby bench, mindful to the saline solution he bought from the front desk that’s now in his lap. Further contemplates the message as his fingers brush over the bobby pin still in his hair as a distraction from the piercing.

There is a bunch of nonsense that follows in the chat from Taehyung and Hoseok, but that's always easy to ignore–he blames it on the force of habit. The parlour's sign is a clear view diagonal from his position, background he sees fit for him at the moment. Jungkook angles his body so he's facing the opposite direction and snaps a picture of his reddened ear, careless to the rosy marks blooming right under. Your contact details are secure in his pocket, printed over the card you gave him, and despite how light they are, they bear the force to keep him grounded.  

Tapping the screen to quote Namjoon's reply, Jungkook keeps to his fashion: he's not the one for many words when it isn't needed.

He breaks into giggles. Thumbs up and peace sign emojis suffice.  

a/n: namjoon getting his tongue pierced is actually a reference to emma @.personawife’s fic piercings and piercer!yoongi is available over at @.yuengi in bad boys bring it to you which you should totally check out if u want more pierceverse! major thanks to lo for listening to me ramble about this cutie and helping me with the last bits of his character! • remember don’t get pierced with a gun OR a hoop and if you enjoyed please consider leaving a comment i’m starving and koko is not showing sleeve 

[prplzorua]

Hey, can you write Thomas, the sides and friends taking care of trans Verge with cramps? Mine are really bad today :(

Oh man, really sorry your cramps are bad, I’m suffering with you tbh, uteruses suck sometimes. I’m also sorry for this but I don’t write Trans characters. Nothing against my Trans peeps, it’s simply that I myself am not Trans and I do not wish to “romanticize” it. I write everything I do based on either my experiences or a close Irl buddy. I have no such friend nor experience as a Trans person and I refuse to write something where I’m banking on clichés that may possibly be offensive. So until I have an Irl friendo who is Trans and they wish to share their experiences and check what I have written then I won’t be writting any Trans characters.

Buuut this happened to my best bro so you still get Virgil suffering with us ;)

Tw: nightmares, slight gore?

—-

He was running.

Running as fast as he could.

His breath burned in his throat as his breathing grew more and more ragged. His exhaustion grew as well but he couldn’t stop now, the creature was right behind him.

Virgil couldn’t tell you how he ended up here nor could he tell you where he was or what exactly was chasing him, all he knew was that he had to get out and make sure as hell that thing didn’t get him.

He didn’t take much backward glances for fear of it catching up to him, but from the few glances he did take he knew the thing was tall, freakishly so with shadowy skin, a huge face and rows upon rows of sharp teeth. It’s eyes were a terrifying yellow and it’s claws- oh god, they scraped the ground as it ran. Long, sharp and drippy with some time of ooze, one he could only assume was a type of poison.

He didn’t know why it was chasing him but he wasn’t going to stick around to find out. So he booked it. Only realizing that the landscape was completely different from what he was used to.

He was running in a sick, perverse version of a dead forest. The trees were old, leafless and decrepit. Almost all of them looked the same, with little holes in them that had little yellow eyes blinking at him.

Virgil kept running.

He wasn’t going to bother climbing a tree or hidding, the creature was tall enough to spot him and if not, one of those things in the trees would surely get to him. His only option was foward, so he ran in an off zig-zag hoping to throw the thing off.

It seemed to be working but he knew he wouldn’t be able to keep that up for long. The thing was still coming.

Gritting his teeth, Verge pressed on, forcing his shaky legs to move, he may not know where he was but he damn well was going to figure out how to get out. He was following the direction of the wind, this may have been a crappy forest but there was bound to be a sea or lagoon close by.

He figured that with the thing’s height it wouldn’t be able to swim and if it could it wouldn’t be fast enough to catch him. He could dive down, swim to shore and book it in the opposite direction and get out of what ever hell he was trapped in, well that’s what he hoped.

His assumptions payed off when just a little distance off he was meet with a black sea. The thing was still chasing him, it’s claws grinding in the dirt and rock, making god awful sounds as it approached. Virgil redoubled his efforts and used all his might to sprint down towards the water.

He made it to the shore… and that was as far as he had gotten.

Just as he was about to jump in the black sea, the creature teleported infront of him. Terrified Verge jumped back only for the thing to smile at him.

He felt himself being lifted and was now held at the monster’s eye level. It was only then he realized that the creature’s cold claws was through his abdomen.

The thing chuckled, all of it’s teeth rattling, and in one swift moved it pulled the dark trait’s intestines from out his body.

And dropped Virgil to the ground below.

But before he felt the impact he felt a tug, and the next thing he knows is ice.

—–

Virgil shot up on his bed with a gasp, cold sweat covering his body, as his heart raced and he subconsciously squeezed his midsection.

He felt extremely dizzy and the adrenaline had yet to wear off. He felt another cold tug and realized too late what it was.

—-

“Virgil!” Shouted Thomas.

“Do you want me to go get him kiddo? He was in a pretty deep sleep when I checked on him this morning”

The host scratched his head, “uh, sure Pat, but I guess I can try summoning him one more time? If it doesn’t work you can go get him”

“And of that doesn’t work?”, asked Roman.

Thimas shrugged, “Well if he’s that tired it doesn’t make sense to force him. I mean, we all know what happened last time-”

“Yes, he was unable to read his script with out squinting or say his lines without stuttering or yawning in every frame”, interjected Logan.

“True, but it was a good addition to the Bloopers vid-”

“Yeah Roman but not as good as Talyn’s Vetal Mike!” Piped Joan from somewhere in the kitchen. The three sides and Thomas turned to look at the datemates.

Talyn was red faced with a poptart in their mouth. They bit into it and held the rest menacingly at Joan, “You’re not getting the rest”

“What?! Tal come on, just a bite?”

“No”

“Taaaaaal!”

“No way, you shouldn’t have brought it up!”

By now Joan was chasing Talyn around the kitchen but the smaller friend was using their height and speed against the beanie lover, effectively evading them.

Thomas chuckled at his friends antics before turning back to his sides with a shrug, “we’ll I guess… I should call him again?”

The others just shrugged, so he attempted to summon his youngest trait once more.

“Virgil!”

“Gahh!” Said trait landed on the bottom of the stairs with a non to nice ‘Thud’.

Everyone stopped moving.

—-

Virgil gripped his head, the impact caused it to spin and his dizziness to increase, more so than in his room.He sat up only to groan in pain and hug his middle.

“Verge? You ok kiddo?”

The dark trait lifted his head in Patton’s direction. “I don’t-”, he cut himself off by slapping a hand to his mouth. Everyone could practically see what little color the emo had, drain from his face.

He gagged, “I don’t feel so-”

To this day Thomas will thank Joan for saving his stairs and floor with their quick thinking.

They had grabbed the empty garbage bin from the kitchen and quickly carried it over to the dark side. Virgil didn’t hesitate, he grabbed the bin and heaved.

Patton was the first to move over to help the younger, gently he kept Virgil’s bangs out of his face with one hand, while rubbing his back with the other.

It took a bit for Verge’s stomach to leave him be, but once it calmed, Talyn handed him a cold water bottle and he rinsed his mouth with the water before spitting into the bin.

—-

“What could have caused this?” Inquired Logan.

“I don’ know!” Groaned Virgil from his pitiful curled up state on the couch. Roman had carried him there and Verge didn’t even bother putting up a  fight.

“Did you eat some bad food?” Questioned the fatherly trait from somewhere beside the emo.

Virgil just shrugged, still holding his abdomen.

“Or maybe too much food before bed?” Supplied Prince.

“Probably”, mumbled the Dark trait.

“ You know, that gives you nightmares right?”

Well he knew now.

Virgil groaned again.

—-

“Well its obvious that you have stomach cramps Virgil, nothing a simple analgesic won’t be able to fix. Do we have any Advil Thomas?”

“Uh, let me check Logan”, the host then turned and shouted down the  hall, “Hey Joan, we got any Advil?”

Joan came out with a first aid kit and a frown, “we’ve got absolutely nothing in here”

“Oh shoot!”

Virgil groaned again, whether from pain or dread, no one knows.

Talyn pat the emo gently on his shoulder, “welcome to a preview of what everyone with a uterus goes through every month”

Verge scoffed, “what with the vomiting too?”

“Yep, well for some atleast, so yeah. Really all you're  missing is the other pains and the blo-”

Thomas cut his shorter friend off. “Nope! Let’s not go there Tal, we don’t have any painkillers for him-”

“I’ve got some Midol in my bag”

“Ha.hah, very funny Tal”, mumbled the prone Virgil on the couch.

Thomas shook his head at the multi color haired friend. He then drew a sympathetic gaze for Verge. “Joan and I are going to go get you some pain meds-”

“And  restock this first aid kit”

“Yeah, Joan, that too, good thinking”

“May I go with you Thomas, I do believe three heads will be able to tackle this task sufficiently-”

“I’m going too!”

“Why?”

“Well I can’t let you have all the fun nerd, besides I’ve been on adventures and quests, I know a thing or two about what to have in a first aid kit”

“So…”, started Takyn, “I guess I stay and babysit our emo in pain?-”

“Thomas, no Talyn’s gonna kill me!”

The host shrugged, “yeah, sure-”

“Dude-!”

“I’m staying too kiddo, gotta make sure my little shadowling gets back on his feet”

“Is it too late to ask for death?”

Chuckling at Virgil’s remark, Thomas, Joan and the other two left to get the supplies, leaving Talyn and Patton to take care of the pained trait.

—-

“You sure you don’t want it? I mean it  ‘Midol-en’ you’re pain”, chuckled Talyn from th kitchen.

“Noooo”

“Aww come on kiddo, Talyn was great!

“Staaahp”

“Nah, I don’t think so dude-”

“Damn it Tal, your the worst-”

“Am I? And to think I just took my time to get you a warm cloth to put on your stomach”

…

“I take that back”

“Sure you do Verge”

Patton meanwhile was chuckling at the antics of the two.

——

“Roman we don’t need that many bandages!”

“You never know Logan!”

The Logical trait sighed. “Fine, just get one one the big rolls and let’s move on!”

“Heh, knew you’d see it my way, did you get the hydrogen peroxide?”

“Yes and the rubbing alcohol and the bag of cotton”

“Hmm, did you get Vicks?”

“Why, would we-?”

“Trust me, Vicks fixes almost everything”

Logan rolled his eyes, “if you say so, now can we go see what Thomas and Joan picked up?”

“I think we got everything we need from this isle so why not?”

—-

By the time the four had checked their items to make sure they weren’t buying extra, it was already 3:00pm. They reached home around 3:20 only to find Talyn playing on their phone while a curled up and sleeping Virgil was on Patton’s lap, with the fatherly trait gently rubbing his back.

“He doing ok?”

Talyn spoke up.“He’ll be fine Thomas, you got the stuff?”

“Yep”, the host held up a white plastic bag.

“Did you get him to eat?” Asked Logan.

“Not really? Uh, you uad some left over Halloween candy so I gave him a Reese’s cup”

Roman’s brow quirked. “Why? You’d give him candy before food?”

“Chocolate’s great from cramps man, it’s a godsend during those times”

“Huh, go figure”

—-

Something was shaking his shoulder.

“Virgil~”“Virgil~”

“Ngh”

It was definitely Dad.

“Come on kiddo, we got you the Advil and we need you to eat something”He lifted his head just to look at Pat before laying back down. “Noo”

“Come on lazy bones, up!”

“Don’ wanna move”

“You’re not going to feel better unless you eat, son”

“Nooo”

“No whining Sport, come on, don’t make me carry you to the table”

To everyone’s surpris, Virgil slowly sat up and held out his arms. Shrugging Patton easily picked up the darker trait and carried him to an empty chair at the table. Where the emo proceed to lay his head on the cool wood.

“Dramatic much”, questioned Roman good naturedly to the younger.

“You’re one to talk, Princey”

“Roman stop teasing him”, scolded Thimas lightly, “here Verge”, he said as he handed the emo to Advil pills and a glass of water.

“Thanks”, mumbled the Dark trait as he took the pills in his mouth and downed the whole glass. He then promptly put his head back on to the table, but thus time he made sure to have Talyn in his sights.

“If you guys have to deal with this shit and worse every month…then I gotta admit you guys are more hardcore than I thought”

“Damn right we are!”, exclaimed Talyn proudly before suddenly smirking, “but chocolate helps”

Virgil sat up instantly.

“You’re not gonna let that go are you?”

“Nope!” Smiled the shorter friend.

“Dad!”

“I’m sorry kiddo”, chuckled Patton as he brought the younger a small plate of food, “but it was pretty funny”

“It was not!” Huffed the emo indignantly, he then turned to his host, “you see Thomas? You left me with them!”

Everyone started laughing.

—–

Tag list: @thuriweaver @randomslasher @cefmua56 @tinysidestrashcaptain @justanotherpurplebutterfly @anxietyandlogic @pantasticpanini @trashsinsunrelenting @pretty-mr-sanders @princeyandanxiety @prinxietyhell @remmythepegasis @k9cat @velocifoxy @notallpotatoesarefrenchfries @sanspie122

[televisor-reviews]

Top 10 Worst Movies Of 2017!

As everyone is gearing up for their 2018 lists, I prefer to take that extra year to see as much crap as I could from the year before! Now, keep in mind, even with that extra year to watch as many movies as I possibly could, I still didn’t see everything. So, as awful as I’m sure Baywatch or The Bye Bye Man are, I just didn’t around to seeing them. If you want a comprehensive list of every single film I did see from 2017 in order from best to worst, you can go here: https://letterboxd.com/animatorreviewa/list/every-2017-movie-ive-seen/

#10. A Bad Moms Christmas Bad Moms (2016) was a surprise hit with both audiences & critics: with interesting characters, some really funny moments, & a clever moral; it wasn’t anything that would win an Oscar, but if it was on, I wouldn’t complain. A Bad Moms Christmas on the other hand: has annoying as hell characters, obvious humor, & the same damn moral from the first film! In a world with the MCU, which is constantly trying different & unique things, especially with their sequels in hopes to make them stand out, this kind of cheap, cash-grabby sequel with no heart or care put into it simply has no place. If this came out in the ‘80s or ‘90s, it’d be un-notable among Caddyshack 2 & A Christmas Story 2. But in today’s day & age, these kinds of sequels are a relic of a time once left & forgotten & for good reasons. It’s unfunny, uninteresting, & just straight up awful! If I wasn’t keeping track of these movies, I would’ve easily forgotten about it.

#9. Diary Of A Wimpy Kid: The Long Haul Growing up in the early to mid-2000s, I grew up with the Diary Of A Wimpy Kid books. I remember being very excited when the movies came out, & to this day, the books & movies continue to be (at the very least) guilty pleasures. The Long Haul book kept with the spirit of the series, being about a relatively un-notable piece of someone’s childhood, mixed with the feeling of being of nostalgic reminiscing while keeping with the spirit & imagination of a preteen. Its lack of reliability & humor that made past books more enjoyable made The Long Haul my least favorite DOAWK book, but it was still notably timeless as it had little to no potty humor or modern technology that tends to ruin perfectly nice children’s media. The DOAWK movies tend to have the same feel, like it’s just as relatable for children at the time as it would be for kids 50 years from now. What made the films so enjoyable, as opposed to the books, is the spot-on chemistry & acting of the cast. Everyone seemed believable in their roles, Zachary Gordon felt like a genuine kid making genuine kid decisions how a genuine kid would act in a genuine kid filled world. The Long Haul movie is absolutely nothing like these. It relies heavily on bad potty humor, horrendous acting, scenes too out of this world to ever seem believable, & characters who act nothing like any human being. The Rodrick in book & first 3 movies was a dumb older brother who compensated by bullying around his younger brother while still being somewhat caring towards him by giving him honest advice (even if it’s bad). The Rodrick in this would have a hard time breathing & walking at the same time. There was way too much use of modern technology, making it unrelatable to older audiences & cringy to younger audiences, who’re smart enough to know that the old farts making this probably never met a child before. Diary Of A Wimpy Kid: The Long Haul was an unfunny, annoying, & unrelatable slog! #NotMyRodrick

#8. Bigger Fatter Liar Coming about a decade too late, Bigger Fatter Liar is mostly unfunny & annoying. It’s a repeat of the first movie except less funny, less interesting, & less Frankie Muniz. I cannot over-exaggerate how much I hate these kinds of sequels: the kind that takes a great comedy, strips any of the humorous moments, repeats the plot point-for-point, mostly repeats the jokes point-for-point, & adds nothing of interest or value. This is why Vacation made my Top 10 Worst 2 years ago, this is why Bigger Fatter Liar makes my list now. Just like Vacation, it takes a bunch of ingenious build-ups from their original film & fucks up the punch-line by being too over-the-top. Now, going over-the-top isn’t inherently bad (Ghostbusters & Spaceballs are 2 of my favorite comedies & their very over-the-top), but it can be easily overdone, & when it is, you get The Big Bang Theory. I guess what I find most perplexing is who is this made for? Anyone who grew up with Big Fat Liar are too old to be interested in an obvious cash-grab & younger children who might’ve been shown it by their parents aren’t going to be shown it because their parents are smart enough to not show it to them! I can only assume its target audience are people like me, who go out of their way to find the worst movies they possibly can, & this is a damn good contender.

#7. Snatched There really are few things in the world as hard to watch as a bad comedy as so far, it’s made up my entire list & Snatched isn’t going to be the last. Snatched is one of those comedies that has some serious tone issues. You’re supposed to laugh even after Amy Schumer & Goldie Hawn are kidnapped & probably almost raped! I’ve heard of dark comedy, but that’s a hard sell especially since it isn’t a dark comedy! It has generally pretty light humor in it that you’d see in A Bad Moms Christmas or The House, & though those movies are also quite terrible, Snatched puts them in the context of one of the really bad Scary Movies. This film offers the kind of balls you’d see in Deadpool or The Hitman’s Bodyguard but instead gives the least daring comedy in years. It’s humor is safe but doesn’t have the context of a safe film.

#6. Woody Woodpecker I’m going to be entirely honest... I never really liked Woody Woodpecker. I never found him funny or enjoyable, he’s always been just annoying. Now take the concept of a classic character who’s only personality trait is being annoying & make an entire annoying movie around him with the animation that’d make some of the D-list Blue Sky movies look like Pixar & you get the Woody Woodpecker movie. A movie that literally nobody needs to see! The story is... well, who cares? It’s a Woody Woodpecker movie in the style of The Smurfs, who cares about anything in this? You wanna know how bad it is? Guess... you’re right. How about the comedy... you’re right. It has so few twists & turns that if you simply imagine what it’s like, you’ve seen it. Congrats, you saw the 6th worst movie of 2017.

#5. F The Prom Say what you want about the Smosh movies or the Shane Dawson docuseries, but at least they’re naturally creative people doing creative things. Sure, Ghostmates is horrendously edited, but at least it’s made by people with experience at making popular sketch comedy with an actual audience. The Mind Of Jake Paul probably didn’t go as deep as it should’ve, but at least it’s made by someone who’s used to having to be energetic & humorous on the spot & has an audience who likes his stuff. The Fine Bros. have limited experience at being creative. All of their hit series (Kids React, Elders React) have been based around other people’s creative reactions to someone else’s creative content. And I’m not saying that doesn’t take some hard work; they must have a talent at finding people-pleasers, getting the kinds of reactions to make a compelling opinion, editing them together as to not fuck up their opinions nor the original content, & marketing that to the right audience. That’s why I think they’d make for decent producers, but creative types they are not. That’s why their more creative series like Emo Dad & MyMusic ended as failures with little fanfare. F The Prom was directed & written by the Fine Bros. & watching it, you can tell that everything I just said was true. It’s just a knockoff of The D.U.F.F. which was a knockoff of The Breakfast Club! Why would you want to be The D.U.F.F.? The critical bomb no one saw because it’s nothing like anyone’s high school experience? They both have all the tellings of an ‘80s high school (queen bee cheerleaders, bully jocks, bullied nerds, etc.), which is fine, but then they threw in cell phones & emojis to relate to modern day teenagers. Doing so alienates older audiences who didn’t have sexting when they were in high school & alienates modern teens who don’t have these kinds of cliches anymore. It’s funny that they have a hit series called Teens React because they pretty clearly didn’t ask any of them what modern high schools are like! I was hoping that The Edge Of Seventeen would bring on a wave of great teen movies & Eighth Grade would bring on a wave of great YouTuber movies. But I guess the Fine Bros. had the worst YouTuber movie & 2nd worst teen comedy ever still in them.

#4. CHiPS Okay, I didn’t realize that this list would be made almost entirely of bad comedies, we just happen to be in a bad age for comedy so you’ll have to deal with me typing “unfunny” a little bit longer. CHiPS is cheap & unfunny garbage that I wish I never saw! Every joke was just “sex this” & “sex that” which is fine in moderation & with good writing, but this has neither! It’s trying to be 21 Jump Street but doesn’t understand that what made that so great was it’s clever humor to parody the original franchise & reboot movies as a whole, not just cheap sex jokes! You want to get drunk? Take a shot every time they mention sex, you don’t even need other rules, you’ll be dead 10 minutes in! There’s no cleverness, no nuance, nothing of substance to make it even worth talking about! And that’s why it’s #4!

#3. Let There Be Light Here’s the obligatory Christian movie, I’d stop including them if they stopped being so badly made. The writing, acting, story, cinematography, everything (& I mean everything) seems like they were done by people who don’t know how to make a movie because they were. Christian movies aren’t made to be interesting or Oscar contenders, they’re made to propagate their shitty ideals. That Christianity is good, all other religions are bad. It is, quite literally, propaganda. Which isn’t inherently bad. What is bad that it’s in the service of hatred towards the other (whether it be Atheists, Muslims, gays, etc.) & it’s really badly made. And don’t think that I hate all Christian movies just on principal simply because I myself am a bisexual Atheist. I love Angels In The Outfield, Field Of Dreams, & VeggieTales just as much as everyone else. I hate bad Christian movies that open with 9/11 for literally no reason other than to say “fuck Muslims”. I hate bad Christian movies that support hating others rather than love & acceptance (like what Jesus Christ preached). I hate bad Christian movies that hate me because of how I was born for no reason other than because an old book told them to. There, have I made my point yet? Can these movies please stop being made?

#2. Pitch Perfect 3 I know it’s weird to follow up “this movie hates gay people” with Pitch Perfect 3, but I saw this in theaters surrounded by a bunch of middle-aged women who seriously need to get laid laughing with that kind of annoying theater-people laugh every time a character literally named Fat Amy said “I’m fat, ppppffffttttt!!!!” I have never had such a negative theater experience & the fact that I still had to sit through a movie as bad as Pitch Perfect 3 didn’t fucking help! I can’t stand this movie! It’s annoying, frustrating, unfunny, cheap, & all around bad... but so was A Bad Moms Christmas & Snatched & they were delegated to #10 & #7 respectively. What made Pitch Perfect 3 particularly awful to sit through? Well I wish death upon the audience I saw this with, but there is one more thing... The Pitch Perfect movies weren’t ever, well, perfect but they were perfectly fine, harmless films. There’s a few decent laughs, I like Princess Poppy in them alright, I think the singing was genuinely good. But what separates those films from their sequel is their basis in reality. The Pitch Perfect films always took place in a very realistic, very grounded reality. Pitch Perfect 3, on the other hand, opens with all of the main characters tied up on a Bond-esc villain’s boat, about to be murdered because Fat Amy is his daughter & reasons. If that isn’t jumping the shark, I don’t know what is! And I would accept this if it was fun, but it’s not. In fact, it’s barely focused on until the last half hour when it’s entirely that. The rest of the film is just a less funny Pitch Perfect. Wouldn’t be good, but not 2nd worst movie of 2017 bad. But it’s just so unfunny & the story so convoluted & the audience that annoying! I hate everything in this, I can’t imagine anyone liking this! Fuck this movie!

Before we get to #1, here’s some runners up:

Sandy Wexler I think both I & Adam Sandler are tired of the general Adam Sandler shtick. Encapsulated by the fact that I didn’t include this on my list & Sandler releasing critically praised films such as The Meyerowitz Stories (New And Selected) & 100% Fresh right after this. There’s nothing of note or particularly interesting about Sandy Wexler when compared to Grown Ups or Pixels. It’s another bad Adam Sandler movie, the same as any other, I’m just happy that they seem just about over.

Wish Upon I heard a lot of people consider this film so-bad-it’s-good but I didn’t enjoy its awfulness quite that much. But I did enjoy it just enough to keep it off of the list. There’s lots of accidentally funny moments in this, just not as many as I was hoping.

The Emoji Movie I know a ton of people put this as their worst movie of 2017... but I don’t know. Maybe it’s because people hyped it up too much by the time I got to see it or maybe because I’m a sucker for fast paced animation but I enjoyed this film way too much to put it here. I don’t know, I don’t think it’s that bad. Mostly mediocre, I guess. Same goes for Duck Duck Goose & Gnome Alone.

Pirates Of The Caribbean: Dead Men Tell No Tales 2017 was not a very good year for mediocre movie franchises. Between this, Tom And Jerry: Willy Wonka And The Chocolate Factory, & Transformers: The Last Knight, all being god awful & not making much money, maybe it’s the end to these 3 not very beloved series... or Bumblebee will make a bunch of money & nobody will learn any valuable lessons.

What The Health I have no problem with vegans, if anything, I think they’re objectively correct in their arguments, I just like medium rare steak too much! Just please don’t make shitty documentaries with shotty evidence & bad science! This one in particular made me so mad that I stopped watching it half way through & I would’ve put it on the list if I included documentaries!

All Eyez On Me Joke’s on me! I thought Straight Outta Compton would’ve brought a new wave of great music biopics, but apparently it only brought along terribly boring & overly long music biopics with 2018′s Bohemian Rhapsody & 2017′s All Eye’s On Me. The longest 2 & a half hours of my life!

Death Note As a huge fan of the Death Note anime & manga, this is practically blasphemy!... but there is still a lot of creativity & cleverness in it. Granted, those are all from the anime & the worst parts are whenever it tries to be original. But, granted again, if it was just the anime there’d be no reason to watch it. I feel like the people working on this were given a bad hand & probably did the best they could... but it still sucked. I strangely feel very similar about Beauty And The Beast.

Despicable Me 3 I think I just have a really low tolerance for annoyance. I cannot stand being annoyed, I’d rather be tortured! And that is the fatal wound of the Despicable Me franchise. I like the first 2 films just fine, but between this & Minions, I think it’s doomed to annoying purgatory!

47 Meters Down Shark movies are more dead than the shark at the end of Jaws: totally terminated & yet still showing up in films. 47 Meters Down is another hackney entry into a tired genre.

Happy Death Day I feel like I’m alone in hating this film. People praise it for being funny & clever while I bash it for being void of any entertainment & doing the same shit that got overused a decade ago.

#1. Fifty Shades Darker As out of touch F The Prom is, as hate-filled Let There Be Light is, as annoying Pitch Perfect 3 is... at least they have stories. They have comprehensive plots. Things actually happen in them. That is a lot more than what I can say for Fifty Shades Darker. On my 2015 list, I didn’t include Fifty Shades Of Grey because, as a film, it was decently made & had more than a few funny moments that made it worth watching. Its sequel did absolutely nothing, & I mean nothing! Nothing happens! How is this enjoyable for anyone? Just watch porn! You’ll get more out of it & it’ll probably have a better plot anyways.