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aquagustd · 3 years ago

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fast forward - JJK

↣ If every single person you knew was against you, it wouldn’t matter, doesn’t matter because Jungkook would be there for you. That’s why you don’t question his words when he repeats ‘I’ll be back’ one disconcerting morning, and you respond with ‘I know. I trust you.’ He’ll make you eat your words.

✩ a flashback drabble for hell is empty ✩

༄moodboard

pairing — biker!jungkook x reader

genre/rating — R | fluff, smut, angst

word count — 12K

listen to — reflections by the neighbourhood, bad things by camila cabello & machine gun kelly

warnings/tags — established relationship, strong language, mentions of violence & blood, drug use/dealing, strict parents, reader & jk are around 19-20, shotgunning, mentions of abortion, minor character death, mentions of guns, minor bike accident + injury, familial conflict, soft but stern jk, just two goofs madly in love with each other (◕﹏◕♡), mentions of babies, explicit smut — thigh kink ofc, spit kink, hand kink, finger sucking, dirty talk, fingering, pussy slapping, overstimulation, biting/scratching, a nice mix of degradation + praise, name-calling (slut, whore), hickeys, soft + rough sex, doggy style, dumbification, standing sex, oral (f & m), hair pulling, deep throating, multiple positions, multiple orgasms, unprotected sex (rip), creampie, breath play, impact play, some ass play, nipple play, pillow talk

a/n — can be read as a standalone. but is necessary for the plot of HIE !! now that Jungkook is introduced into the story, I thought it’d be good for a lil flashback so the readers can get a better look at their relationship in the past & what his return really means for y/n & Junho. the narrator in the beginning of this drabble will be revealed later on in the story. also the song reflections pls it’s them 😭 listen to it before you read this 🥺

∞

Just as the gravel crumbles under the tires of his motorcycle, everyone cowers as he passes them by, leaving a kiss on his companion’s forehead before disappearing behind the infamous, nondescript building to get on with secret business. Although it wasn’t that much of a secret.

Everyone knew what Jeon Jungkook got up to by his walk alone. Similar to the domineering stride his father carried with him each time you would be lucky enough to see him. The few occasions that he left his mansion was enough to set an uncomfortable lump in everyone’s throat. But even high up in the comfort of his home, his business was thriving. Little men running around for him with a wave of his hand. Bees, he called them.

Everyone also knew that Jungkook would follow in his footsteps, and it all began once he finished high school. A small initiation was held and even if Jungkook had the wits to take over right after his last day of his metaphorical teenage years, his father said that he wasn’t ready yet. Only because he was still alive and in good health. It was only a matter of time before his own supply would kill him. BUT, he’s still alive. And Jungkook is still a bee, buzzing around like the rest of them for his father.

Still, everyone knew that Jungkook was the younger version of his father, even if he hated hearing it.

How Jungkook and ___ met, no one knew. Perhaps they were childhood friends? Met in high school? No one knew. Given that she came from a religious home, far away from Jungkook’s neighborhood and the dangers lurking in those streets, it was difficult to piece their beginning together. Her background should be disregarded entirely, she and Jungkook shared the same temperament and were equally merciless. Even if she wasn’t a bee herself. But Jungkook kept her around, or she kept him around? What mattered was that they were deeply in love with each other, anyone could see that. Inseparable. Soulmates.

It was quiet for the past week, but everyone knew it was only a matter of time before they returned from their little vacation and stirred things up just like they always do.

Wide-eyed, some sniggering, others scared for their life, look on as she yanks the back of an unsuspecting waitress’ head, firm grip around her ponytail before she’s thrown to the floor.

Back to business, I guess.

“If you don’t fucking speak up—” You lift your boot, pausing just above her ribcage as she holds up her hands, muttering pleas under her breath.

“J-Jake…He—” She coughs, scooting away on her palms to hit the wall, shaking her head furiously. You stalk her further into the alleyway, rolling up the sleeves of your leather jacket as far as they can go.

“What about Jake?”

The echo of your voice is enough to have her trembling, wiping the corner of her bloody mouth before shielding her face. You crouch down in front of her, yanking down her hands to find terror in her hazel eyes. Jungkook said to rough her up a bit, you think your job is done. She doesn’t deserve to suffer the consequences of her brother’s constant fuck ups.

With a sigh, you help her up to her feet, fixing the nametag on her dress quickly before stepping away.

“Jungkook won’t be too happy to hear that I let you go so easily,” you begin, rubbing your knuckles on your jeans, “so you better go home and tell your good-for-nothing brother that he rather come out of hiding before we pay your parents a little visit.”

She gasps, a little overdramatically.

Lurching forward, you grip her arm and drag her around to the front of the building, rolling your eyes when she begins to sob.

“Oh please. I didn’t even hit you that hard, here.” She grabs the tissue you offer, blowing out her nose. “Aren’t you tired of all this? Your brother doesn’t deserve you.”

Her lips quirk to the side, grimacing when she licks at the wound on the corner of her mouth. She lifts her gaze to meet yours, voice a pained whisper.

“He’s my little brother.”

You fold your arms, “I know for a fact that we aren’t the only ones looking for him.”

She shakes her head, tears glistening under the fading light of a passing car, “yes. There’s much worse.”

You chuckle, slowly backing away from her, “don’t let Jungkook hear you say that.”

At the mention of his name, you feel an arm around your shoulder, instantly relaxing in his hold when his scent surrounds you. He glances at the waitress who stumbles into the café, a question on his lips.

“Nothing,” you sigh, taking the can of Coke from him as you return to his bike parked on the far end of the lot, “but I think we’re making headway. He might be hiding at his parents’ place.”

Jungkook nods, setting down his drink on the ground before helping you with your helmet, knocking his against yours once you’re togged up and ready.

“I like it when you’re out with me,” he smiles, flashing his heart-stopping bunny grin.

You shove his shoulder as he gets on the bike, throwing your leg over the seat behind him before squeezing his pecs, “I’m always out with you.”

He starts up the engine, grinning at you in the mirror, “you know what I mean. When I’m out on business.”

Resting your cheek on his shoulder, you slide your hands inside his jacket, his heartbeat thrums under your palms, accelerating just as you take off onto the road. Joy overwhelms your senses once you fall into the odd tranquillity from speeding down the roads. Hair whipping around in the wind, you grip onto him tighter, knees hitting his sides as he takes the turn onto the highway.

You breathe in the night air, cutting into your lungs while he speeds up, and you know it’s because you told him recently that you feel the most free when you’re with him on his bike.

A smile breaks onto your face. During the first few months of dating Jungkook, you weren’t too sure if you were in love with him, or in love with the way he makes you feel. It was something you struggled with for a long time, and you knew that there was a significant difference between the two. And it was only recently, when you made peace with the fact that it was both.

Heart spilling with a million and one emotions, you place a gentle kiss on the back of his neck, breathing in his natural smell as much as the wind would allow. He turns around, lips lifted in a smirk before you smack the back of his helmet.

“Eyes on the road! Are you trying to kill us?!”

His words are muffled but you still hear them loud and clear, and not because you’ve heard them multiple times before.

“I wouldn’t mind if I die with you like this!”

Your giggle is cut short when he winds down the road even faster, tears prickling your eyes before you decide to surrender to the speed and close them fully, gasping once he comes to a stop outside a familiar house.

Unclicking your helmet, you jump off and bang your fists against his chest, whining when he grips them tight and holds them close to his body, reeling you in slowly.

“I thought you liked it,” he whispers, positioning you between his legs while he leans against his bike, “I make you feel free, isn’t that right?”

You tip your chin up to press your lips to his, but he jerks away, laughing when you whine again.

Managing to break out of his hold, you tug on the hair at the back of his neck, bringing his face down to your level.

“And I hate it when you tease,” you mutter, grazing his lips with your own while he hisses, hands flying to your hips. You brush his hair out of his eyes with your free hand, mirroring his grin once you catch sight of his blown pupils.

He pulls you flush against his body, tilting his head just like he does before he’s about to steal your breath away when you hear footsteps behind you.

“Hey lovebirds! Good to see you back in action.”

You snap away from Jungkook, back pressed into his chest while he winds an arm around yours, holding you close.

“Hyung, nice to see you here,” Jungkook shouts, grabbing Yoongi’s extended arm, “thought you’d be too busy with miss goody two shoes.”

Looking between the two of them, you cock an eyebrow, “that’s her new nickname?”

When you and Jungkook begin to snigger, Yoongi groans, “I didn’t even miss you two.”

You share a look with Jungkook, poking at Yoongi’s side before he scurries away into the house with you following close behind.

“Stop lying! You missed us! That’s why you kept calling every hour.”

Yoongi pretends not to hear, making his way to the noisy kitchen while Jungkook greets each person you pass on your way further inside the house, voice drowned out by the booming music.

“Correction,” Jungkook grins, filling a cup with whatever drink he finds on the counter, “every fifteen minutes.”

Yoongi rubs the back of his neck, side eyeing your boyfriend who nudges his shoulder with a mirthful simper.

“That’s because your father wanted updates,” he mumbles, taking a swig from his nearly empty cup, “and since you were gone, I had to finish up what you left behind.”

While they continue to bicker, you scan the lounge to find an empty spot on the couch, Haneul seated nearby. You take a sip from Jungkook’s cup and saunter towards her, planting yourself in the middle of her conversation with Iseul.

“You’re back!” She throws her arms around your shoulders with all her half-heartedness, you pat her back just the same. “We missed you so much!”

You receive unenthusiastic greetings from the girls around her. Dismissing the rest of them, you turn to her and pretend to be interested in what’s going on in her life before she finally gets to the juicy parts, only to be interrupted by Iseul calling your name.

“Hmm?”

She passes the blunt to Juwon, drawn-on eyebrow raised to her hairline.

“So, is it true?”

You lean back on the couch, resting your hand on your stomach tiredly, “is what true?”

She glances at each of her friends briefly, as if searching for confirmation before she cups a hand around her mouth, strobe lights dancing over her features.

“You and Jungkook left town so you could get an abortion.”

It would’ve been better if you had a drink in your hand, so you could’ve spat it all over her judgemental face. But instead, you must sit up in the seat, lips parted in disbelief.

“What?”

She holds up her palms with indifference, “that’s what we heard.”

They stare at you like a wake of vultures, waiting for your answer and you want to deny but you know no matter what you say, they’ll believe what they want to believe. A sickening weight stirs in your stomach.

You spring up from the couch, mumbling a small ‘that’s not true’ over your shoulder before making your way through the gyrating bodies, hand on your belly as you grip the railing outside and suck in a deep breath.

Since you’ve started dating Jungkook, there were all kinds of rumors circulating. None of which affected you, but why does this one make you sick to your stomach? Is it because you took time off for a harmless vacation and that’s what people thought? Is it because they thought you were having Jungkook’s baby, and you didn’t want it? Or is it because of your beliefs? What you were force fed since you were a little girl by your parents?

All you know is that you had never, ever, in your three years with Jungkook and the years before that, thought about Jungkook and a baby in the same breath. It doesn’t seem…like you or him.

Leaning over the railing, your hands slide up and down over your arms, bile rising in your throat. Where do people get the time to make up shit like this?

Just as you’re about to go back inside, Jungkook emerges from behind the sliding door, forehead creased.

“What are y—What’s wrong?”

You shake your head, managing a small smile as if that’ll throw him off your case.

“Nothing,” you dismiss, reaching for the joint in his hand but he pulls it out of your reach, dipping his head to peer into your eyes.

“Something’s up.”

Reflexively, your gaze shifts behind him to the window where the girls sit, watching you and Jungkook like hawks. He follows your gaze, straightening his posture before cursing under his breath.

“Those bitches. What did I tell you about talking to them?” He scolds, attempting to raise his voice but still his regular pitch when he grabs your shoulders. “I told you before. They’re jealous of you!”

You scoff, poking your tongue in your cheek, “I don’t see why they should be jealous of me.”

He clicks his tongue, big eyes even bigger, “are you kidding? You have everything they don’t.”

“And what’s that?”

His tongue flicks over lips, tucking your hair behind your ear daintily, “firstly, every single one of them live miserable lives. Their parents force them into college when they’re all dumb as fuck and they’re all single and—”

You shut him up by pressing your index finger against his lips, speaking around a laugh, “okay baby. I get it.”

His innocent eyes turn mischievous, pulling a gasp from your lips when he tugs you close, “you know what else?”

Eyes glued to his lips, you jerk your chin in question, slipping a hand around his neck, “what?”

He takes a long drag from the joint, thumb tugging down your bottom lip before slotting his mouth over yours. You breathe him in greedily, sighing when he seals it with a lingering kiss before pulling away. A dizzying spell cast over you from his gaze alone.

“You have me.”

Before you can respond, he starts to attack your neck, teeth and tongue working on your flushed skin while you squirm under him, knowing that you’d go home with bruises marring your skin. Giggling, you manage to pull away and fit your face in his neck, tugging down the collar of his shirt to suckle your own blooms into his flesh. He groans, long and breathy, hand fitted over your ass.

“I love you,” he grits, pressing a kiss into the crown of your head, fingers skimming down your necklace. “Let’s go home.”

Despite the heat brewing in your abdomen, a light feeling in your legs, you press your forehead to his, mumbling a soft ‘no.’ He watches you with half lidded eyes, lips puckered.

“I have to go home tonight,” you breathe, plucking at his collar, “they’re already mad at me for leaving.”

His breath mingles with yours, chest heaving, “it’s late already.”

“I know,” you sigh, pulling back slightly, “but they’ll be waiting for me in the morning.”

He exhales deeply, nodding to himself, “okay. Let’s get you home then.”

As you’re walking down the stairs, Yoongi stumbles out of the house, tossing Jungkook his keys. Even in his inebriated state, he still looks out for you two.

“Take my car,” he slurs, pointing at his black single cab as if you didn’t know it was his, “it’s too dangerous to go out with your bike.”

Jungkook opens his mouth to protest but you steer him away from the house, telling him that it’s better not to argue with a drunk Yoongi. He counters that it’s better not to argue with Yoongi at any time. You laugh, but at the back of your head you know that your little escape from reality has reached its end. Especially when you have to tiptoe up to your room.

Afraid that you might disturb your parents’ sleep and walk straight into your impending doom.

By pure chance, your sleep breaks at around 3:30AM, rubbing at your fuzzy eyes before you squint at your screen. Seeing fifteen missed calls from Yoongi. It better be important, he has the tendency to call you up at the slightest inconvenience concerning Jungkook but it’s not like him to miss your call. You try again and it goes straight to voicemail. Not long after, your phone lights up with his name and you answer it right away, jumping up from your bed when you hear the panic lacing his voice.

“What the fuck? I’ve been trying to get call you for almost an hour. Come outside.”

You slide on your slippers, whisper-shouting into the speaker, “some of us are not nocturnal like you, Yoongi.” Just as you expected, his car is parked across the house, and you hope with all your heart that your parents are on their third dream. “What do you want?”

His voice trembles slightly which has you pausing, hand on the doorknob, “Yoongi? What’s going on?”

“Fuck. Just come outside and I’ll tell you!”

You’ve only seen Yoongi like this on a few occasions, so when you find him with his head in his hands, you know your paranoia is justified.

As soon as you click in the seatbelt, he’s speeding off, eyes dimmed.

“Jungkook’s been in an accident.”

Your heart sinks to the pit of your stomach, yet still throbs in your mouth.

“W-What? When? Is he okay?”

He rubs his chin, ignoring the blinking light for his own seatbelt, “I don’t know. He’s at the hospital now.”

“When did this happen?”

“I don’t know. Some time after he dropped you off. He got back to leave the car and said he’s going home. Fuck, if I was with him—“ he continues to curse under his breath, ignoring the speed limit.

You rub your palms on your knees, tears flowing freely before Yoongi parks haphazardly outside the ER. You’re fast but he’s faster, barging in and asking for Jungkook. The nurse tries to tell him that he’ll need to slow down, you’re growing impatient, reaching over the desk to pull the monitor in your direction. With frantic eyes, you search for his name to find nothing. Yoongi tugs on your arm, dragging you down the hallway while you’re trying not to skid on the glossy tiles with your useless slippers.

Breaths haggard, you pull back each curtain, not expecting the first one to reveal what you were looking for.

“Yoongi!” Your hands fly to your mouth, unable to tear your eyes away from the sight.

“Fucking hell.”

The nurse standing beside his head spins around, eyes widening in alarm before she shoves both of you out of the cubicle. You crane your neck to look over her shoulder, blinking away hot tears.

Jungkook’s eyes are shut, lips parted with his face covered in blood, his shirt matted and clinging to his body. You’re one second away from losing your mind, tongue like lead in your mouth.

“Are you friends of his?”

You let Yoongi do all the talking, falling back to sit on the chair, nothing but the worst passing through your mind. He hurt his head. There’s blood all over him. He’s unconscious. A low shrill jumps out of your chest as you slump forward, sobs wracking your body. If you lose him, you’ll lose your sanity.

Sucking in a sharp breath, you lift your head when you feel a hand on your back. Yoongi stands with his eyes downcast, proffering a familiar black jacket. You hold it up to your face with trembling hands, wet eyelashes kissing your cheeks as you breathe in Jungkook’s scent. More tears staining your cheeks.

“What did she say?”

He huffs down on the chair next to yours, index finger rubbing his temple.

“She said someone called the ambulance from his phone but no one else was at the scene when they found him. So, his injuries couldn’t have been from a motorcycle accident,” he chuckles dryly, scrubbing a hand down his cheek, “and we know Jungkook, he’s too sharp for that.”

You swallow thickly, voice nasally, “what about h-him? Will he be okay?”

His head snaps in your direction, nailing you with an exasperated glare, “this is Jungkook we’re talking about. He’s a fighter.”

That does nothing to tame your fear and Yoongi knows it.

“He’ll be fine,” he adds after a beat of silence, knee bobbing incessantly, “he just needs a few stitches.”

Despite hearing those words, your heart still hammers in your ribcage, face feeling hot and prickly.

“Wait,” you break the silence, turning to face Yoongi who’s busy on his phone, “who told you?”

“His father.”

“How did he know?”

Yoongi’s head lifts slowly, realization dawning his features before he grabs the leather jacket from you, inspecting every inch.

“There’s no blood on his jacket,” he notes, dropping it back into your lap before he rises from the chair, “I’m gonna get him a room, he might have to spend a few nights here.”

“Yoongi,” you call, tugging on his sleeve, “this wasn’t an accident.”

He purses his lips, gaze firm, “we’ll just have to wait until he wakes up so we can ask him what really happened.”

The wait is excruciatingly painful, you might have lost a chunk of hair with burgeoning anxiety. Yoongi gets you coffee, but you can’t finish it, the worries weighing on your shoulders is enough to keep you awake until the nurses say you can see him.

You can think of a handful of people that would want to hurt Jungkook and actually follow through with it. If you were to narrow them down, none of it made any sense. Hurting Jungkook meant denting his father’s business immensely and no one wanted to make enemies with Jeon and his bees. But it looks like someone did, and Yoongi would stop at nothing to find out who was behind it.

Jungkook’s father can be too complacent at times, that’s why Jungkook takes some matters into his own hands. It never backfired.

When you see Jungkook sitting up in bed, bandage around his head with a straw caught between his lips, a monsoon of relief washes over, especially when his beady eyes catch on yours. You surge forward, wrapping your arms around his shoulders while he hisses and groans, returning your hug as best as he can.

“Hey,” he scolds, thumbing away your tears, “I’m okay. Look. I’m fine.”

“I know,” you sniffle, propping yourself on the edge of the bed, “I saw you…all bloody and—”

He chuckles, smoothing a hand over your shoulder, “you got scared?”

“Yeah.”

Knuckles running down your cheek, he kisses his teeth, “you’re my strong girl.”

You give him a shy smile, inspecting the marks of his forehead. He hands you the juice box, turning to Yoongi who stands at the door.

“I hope my baby is okay.”

The spark in his dark eyes never dulls, you’ll leave it to Jungkook to make a joke out of every situation. No matter how serious it may be.

“You’re worried about your bike?!”

He falls back on the pillow, laughing tiredly, “Of course…But just imagine me rolling off my bike, on the side of the road like a loose tire!”

Yoongi sits on the armchair a few feet away from the bad, hiding his smile poorly.

“Good to see you back in shape.”

You glance at Yoongi, taking a sip from Jungkook’s juice box, “Yoongi was crying.”

“I was not!”

“Yes,” you poke, waving a finger in his direction, “you were!”

Jungkook’s lips stretch over his teeth goofily, never missing the opportunity to tease Yoongi.

“You were crying for me hyung?”

Yoongi mumbles under his breath, leaning his cheek on his fist before he changes the subject.

“How are you feeling?”

Jungkook stretches his arms over his head, and if you weren’t sitting so close you wouldn’t have noticed the slight tick in his jaw when he sets them back down.

“Never been better.”

Yoongi props his ankle on his knee, folding his arms over his chest, “what really happened then?”

Jungkook avoids his question, gesturing for you to feed him the yogurt you just opened. He hums quietly, pecking your cheek before asking for another spoonful but you decline, shooting him a suspicious look. Both you and Yoongi have the same reprimanding frown to your lips, waiting for his response.

“What did you do?”

“Hyung,” he begins, adjusting the pillow behind him, “you know how it is when—”

“What—“ Yoongi seethes, leaning forward on his knees “—did you do?”

Jungkook grows defensive, voice raising enough to have the same nurse from earlier barging in to ask if everything is okay. That’s when you know that he caused all this.

“I think he should rest,” she suggests, hands clasped in front of her politely, “you two can come back later.”

Yoongi throws a cursory glance over his shoulder at Jungkook before you hop off the bed, stopped by a hand around your wrist.

You’re hyperaware of the nurse hovering about the door when he yanks you forward and smashes your lips to his, chapped and sloppy but enough to have your stomach twisting in on itself.

“I’ll see you later,” you breathe, steadying yourself on the mattress.

His lips ghost yours, fingers slotting with yours, “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

He chases your lips, pouting when you pull away and walk around the bed. With warm cheeks, you apologize to the nurse who holds the door open for you, turning around one last time to blow a kiss in Jungkook’s direction. He holds up his fist, pretending to catch it before holding it to his heart. You laugh to yourself, heart feeling lighter.

It’s been years since you visited this hospital. The last time was when your mother had her kidney operation, and a lot has changed in those few years. The usual teal and white accents was swapped for pale green and baby pink. You don’t know which you like better, both combinations were equally unnerving. But you guess that’s the way a hospital will always feel. People only come here out of obligation, a depressing and unsettling reason behind their visit.

When does one visit the hospital for a joyous occasion?

Ah.

You take your exploration further down, remembering that the maternity wards were a floor below the ER. There’s a large sliding door separating the maternity wards from the rest of the hospital. And you’d need a key card to enter. Cupping your hands over your eyes, you attempt to look further down the hallway, heart stuttering in your chest when the glass slips from under your hands and you stumble forward.

A nurse, wearing pink scrubs, doesn’t spare you a single look as you follow her in. But you knew it was too good to be true when the guy at the mini-reception area cuts your journey short.

“Where are you going, miss?”

Here you are, standing in your white pajamas and pink slippers. You don’t question his judgement as he eyes you down.

“Oh, I was just—” you jut your thumb down the unfamiliar hallway “—visiting.”

His attention is drawn to the telephone that rings behind him, “what ward?”

“Erm…” The whiteboard behind has a bunch of numbers scrawled in different colours, a Ms. B Kim catches your eye. “A8?” You clear your throat, “A8.”

He nods, phone tucked between his shoulder and ear and you’re free to go.

It smells of detergent and musk. You could hear a pin drop. Soft giggles and mumbling come from behind the closed doors, and you find ward A8 easily. But what you were actually looking for is found a little further down. Tiny cribs, some vacant, others occupied with little humans.

You grasp at the glass, flinching when a nurse catches sight of you, but she just waves, coming to stand on the other side of the incubator.

She mouths the words, ‘which baby?’ And you point to a random crib on the far end, plucking at the hem of your sleepshirt.

Even tinier hands, big eyes popping out of its equally bigger head. You stand awestruck, palm pressed to the glass while she holds up the specimen like a burger, peeking around it. Her eyebrows furrow and you realize that she’s waiting for a reaction. You coo, jutting out your bottom lip for her entertainment to which she smiles. Gently, she runs her hand over the babies face which turns a bright pink, gums exposed as its small lips curve up. A genuine smile takes over your features, the impractical urge to squish and pinch its face claws at your heart.

You wonder how it smells in there.

She sets her down, (you’re assuming it’s a girl since they’re all bald) and gets back to work, checking in on the other babies.

They’re all motionless, different shades and shapes but still the same. In identical cribs, lined up next to each other. It’s a funny thing. This is where you all started—”

“What are you doing here?”

Yoongi shuffles over with his hands in his pockets, a smirk playing on his lips.

“I was…uhm…bored so I came here. How did you get in?”

He shrugs, cat-like eyes widening a fraction just as yours did when you first saw them.

“They’re cute, right?”

He’s silent, disgust painting his features before he spins around, leaning against the glass inattentively.

“What do you think he did?”

You sigh, “I don’t know. But he knows he messed up.”

Yoongi scratches his chin, eyes on the floor, “yeah. His father is so fucking angry.”

“I would be too. If my son almost died a few hours ago.”

Yoongi laughs mirthlessly, crossing and uncrossing his legs, “you really think he’s angry because of that? Come on. You should know him by now.”

You tap on the glass, a voiceless cry coming from the baby nearest to you.

“I don’t know what shit Jungkook stirred up but it’s not something that’ll die off quickly.”

Humming quietly, you mirror Yoongi’s posture. Exhausted from coming up with your own conspiracies but still finding new ones to dissect.

“I…”

At his hesitance, you lift your head to look at Yoongi, finding a distant smile on his face.

“I spoke to him. Jungkook’s father, I mean.”

Your eyebrows furrow, “about what?”

“Leaving.”

“Oh.” Your hands sag at your sides, “you’re leaving.”

He nods, sucking his lower lip into his mouth, “I’m tired of all this, ___. I can’t do it anymore.”

You nudge his shoulder, grinning at him playfully, “does your girlfriend have anything to do with it? Hmm?”

“No,” he states plainly, “she doesn’t. I wanted to leave for a long time but things kept coming up. I want to start afresh. Make a new life for myself. Go to college. Fuck. I don’t know.”

After he mentions college, you laugh, slumping against the wall, “Yoongi? A college boy? Never would’ve imagined.”

“I’m serious,” he warns, “aren’t you tired of it?”

Your smile falls. Tired of it meant being tired of Jungkook. This is all he knows.

Yoongi takes your silence as an answer and he changes his tune, slinging an arm over your shoulder.

“You know, I want you to meet her. I feel like you two would get along.”

You shrug off his hand, taking one last look at the babies then loiter along the hall, grimacing when a sudden breeze creeps down your neck.

“It’s funny that we haven’t met her yet,” you laugh, “are you embarrassed of us?”

He snorts, reaching up to rub the back of his neck as you head for the staircase.

The rest of your week is spent in the hospital. Yoongi managed to work something out, or bribe, with the head nurse, so you had a comfortable recliner right next to Jungkook’s bed. Following your instructions carefully, he snuck into your room and picked the few things you needed for your extended holiday. It’s still beyond you how he did it in broad daylight.

But once again, your impromptu vacation comes to an end. You’re sat on Jungkook’s lap, waiting for the doctor to come in for his last check-up.

“Hmm,” you wonder out loud, gripping Jungkook’s chin, “you need a shave.”

He brings your fingers up to his lips, placing a kiss on the back of your hand like he always does, “do it for me?”

You smile, nuzzling into his neck, “okay.”

The sound of your phone ringing disrupts the tender moment, and when it cuts just as you pull it out of your jeans pocket, you can tell who it is without looking at the screen.

“Shit.”

Jungkook gives you a pained smile, “you have to go.”

“Yeah,” you say dejectedly, “I’ll see you later.”

He kisses the corner of your mouth, tailing you to the door, “it’s better if I see you tomorrow. It’s been a while since you saw them. Also, Yoongi and I have some business to attend to.”

“Okay,” you mumble, reaching up to set one last kiss on his puffed-up cheek, “keep safe.”

He relinquishes his hold on your hand with a sorrowful frown, “you too.”

Bitter weather for your bitter mood.

Two weeks. It’s been two weeks since you last saw your parents but to them, it must be two months. That’s how dramatic they can be.

Not once did they call during that time but tonight must’ve been the last straw for them.

You’re an adult. Been one for a few years now but they still have a hold on you that you would never be free of as long as Jungkook is in your life. It’s understandable, one would be afraid if their daughter is involved with the son of Jeon. One of the biggest drug lords your generation and the one before that has ever known.

It’s your life. They don’t get to choose who’s apart of it.

Once you make it to the front door, fiddling with the straps on your backpack, you decide ‘fuck it’ and shove the door open. Your mother sits in her chair at the kitchen table, back facing the front door and your father stews in the lounge. Newspaper, which is just a prop, obscuring your view of his face.

The door shuts behind you and he sets down the paper, rising to his feet to stand at the fireplace.

When was the last time you used that thing? Cleaned it? Must’ve been some time before high school, when you were still a kid. Fascinated by the flames inside your home.

“Good evening,” he roars, “how nice of you to grace us with your presence.”

Devoid of emotion, he beckons you further inside your own home, a sarcastic smile on his crumpled features.

You hover near the hallway, pushing the straps of your bag over your shoulders.

“I’m tired. What’s going on?”

An awfully dry laugh reaches your eyes, spiking your fear even further. But he doesn’t give you an answer, your belongings brimming three trash bags does. You crouch down in front of it, thorns prickling your throat when you see your shattered frame on the floor, slowly dusting off the shards of glass to salvage the photo behind it.

“One rotten egg in a carton,” he shouts from somewhere behind you, the words all too familiar to you, “and no one wants it. One spoiled fruit, give it a few days and the rest are just the same.”

You stand up on shaky feet, chewing on your lip to keep the tears at bay. It was only a matter of time.

“You live in my house, you follow my rules,” he continues, looming closer and closer, “you knew that. You don’t care about your future, why should we? Your mother and I are tired of saying the same thing over and over again. It’s been a year since you finished school and there’s no direction in your life.”

Silent tears drip from your chin, having accepted your fate the moment you walked in.

“That boy—” he spits “—there’s no place for you here. Please lea—“

Before he can complete that sentence, you struggle with the bags and kick open the door, forcing yourself to look ahead. Don’t stop to find guilt in your mother’s eyes, remorse in your father’s. Because you know you’ll find none.

Chest locking up, your eyes burn as you push through the night. Your pride is what keeps you going, throat working wildly, throwing curse after curse at your parents. They were never willing to take accountability. Did they stop to think just once that you’re who you are today because of them? Only when you got your report card did they care. Even then, to compare you to the rest of your classmates.

You try to recount the most memorable days of your childhood but all it does is bring tears to your eyes. When you think of happiness to counter that emotion, Jungkook is the only face that comes to mind.

No matter who your child turns out to be, you would never kick them out or abandon them. You vow to yourself. To give them time, be gentle and understanding. And compassionate. Accepting of their emotions. The complete opposite of your parents.

You don’t know how long you’ve been walking for, your feet ache, lips and throat dry. Ignoring the group of dodgy men sitting under the staircase, you drag your limbs a little further, carting the bags behind you before you bang a fist on Jungkook’s door, unaware of the inquisitive stares from down the hall.

Yoongi opens the door halfway, speaking in a hushed tone when he shrieks your name.

“What are you doing here?”

“Yoongi,” you sob, holding up your bags, “please get Jungkook.”

“Fuck. Hold on.”

You expect him to wait for you to enter but he shuts the door in your face, leaving you to stare at the pale wood before the door swings open and a frazzled Jungkook steps out. In much better shape than you.

“Hey, hey,” he coos, pulling your head to his chest, “it’s okay. You can stay with me, hey.”

Squishing your cheeks between his palms, he tilts his head to look into your eyes, all the security you need pooling in them.

“We knew this was going to happen. It’s okay,” he affirms, placing kisses on every inch of your face. You can’t seem to stop the tears, falling lax in his arms. “Come on, you’re my strong girl, right?”

Sniffling, you lift your eyes to find his, immediately drowning in their comfort.

“Listen, Yoongi and I have someone over and I don’t—”

The door hits the wall harshly as it flies open. Jungkook curses, screwing his eyes shut before turning around.

“What’s going on here?”

You would’ve been afraid, if you weren’t used to seeing men with muscles twice the size of their head and a murky left pupil. However, with the way Jungkook’s entire body stiffens, sweaty palm slipping into your own, a fearful shiver runs down your spine.

Jungkook clears his throat, side-stepping around the burly, tattooed man who takes up half the doorway, drenched in heavy perfume. An attempt to cover the stink you pick up despite his efforts. He’s covered in ink, but the one that catches your attention is the eye on his neck. Where have you seen that tattoo before?

You had almost forgotten about your luggage when Jungkook reaches around and grabs all three in one hand, shoving you into the apartment where you’re greeted by two unfamiliar men dressed similar to the hefty man breathing down your necks. Yoongi stands at the door with his nail snagged between his teeth, gaze set on the firearms lined up on the coffee table. Cactus plant lying on the carpet.

From their silence alone, you can tell that you walked into something. And you know Jungkook’s fear only spikes when one of the men obstructs your path to his room, gesturing for you to sit on the couch. Opposite someone you’d hoped to see. Under different circumstances.

Dry blood coats the side of Jake’s face, his dark hair wet and stringy, head hung low. His hazel eyes flicker to you and you’re reminded of his sister. A loud click of another gun hitting the table breaks through your thoughts, a smug smile fitted on the boss,’ you assume, face as he plops down next to Jake, slapping his back harshly. Jake doesn’t provide any reaction, bloody fingers clutching his knees as he fits into the man’s side.

You only realize that your breaths are strained when his malicious gaze falls on you, heart racking against your ribcage wildly.

“This your girlfriend?”

Jungkook’s hold around your hand tightens, “let’s get this over with, Yang.”

Yang. You don’t think you’ve heard that name before.

He sucks his teeth, leaning back against the couch, soil from the damaged cactus pot smeared by his boot. This is the first time you’ve ever seen Yoongi this silent during a time like this, but when he does speak, you realize why.

Yang points to the guns, chunky rings glittering under the dim light, “I’m waiting for you, big boy. Take your pick.”

Yoongi takes a hurried step forward, “Jungkoo—”

His mouth clamps shut when one of the scrawny men hits the side of Yoongi’s head with the gun you hadn’t noticed earlier. You grimace when he yelps out in pain, a trickle of blood running through his eyebrow.

Yang laughs, low and ominous, “he talks too much.”

You’re too worried about Yoongi to focus on what he’s saying, Jake’s sorrowful eyes locked on yours before Yang springs up.

“Free delivery,” he guffaws, nudging Jake’s knee, “I know you need him more than I do. But you know what I need in return.”

Jungkook glances at Jake, then to Yoongi, who’s shaking his head frantically, then Yang. He says nothing, but the look in his eyes tells you that he made his decision already. A decision Yoongi won’t be too happy with. His hand slips from your grip and he reaches around the couch, setting a heavy overnight bag on the table over the guns. You’re finally up to speed.

One of Yang’s men stationed at the door stomps toward the table but is halted when his boss raises a hand, eyes not leaving Jungkook’s for a second. Your head throbs, body trembling.

“That won’t be necessary,” he smiles, buttoning his coat, “see Jeon. I trust you. Unlike your father.”

Jungkook’s jaw clenches and unclenches before he’s forced to stand up and take Yang’s outstretched hand. When he’s about to let go, Yang yanks his hand harshly, speaking into his ear. You share a curious look with Yoongi who seems to be seething in the corner.

The door shuts behind them as they leave and you would’ve yelled out in relief, but Jake sits on the couch, a different expression on his face.

“Fuck!” Yoongi shouts, rushing to the kitchen to wash his face, “do you know what the fuck you just did?”

“What else was I supposed to fucking do?” Jungkook screams from his place in the hallway, helping you with your bags.

“That’s YANG,” Yoongi grunts, voice muffled by the sound of water running. “You basically just signed a non-cancellable, non-negotiable business contract with him! Must I remind you who the fuck he is?”

Once your bags are in Jungkook’s room, you follow him into the kitchen, ready with your own questions. Jake calls your name from the lounge, flashing you a crooked smile.

“C-can I have s-some water?” He croaks, bloodied hand clutching his chest.

Jungkook and Yoongi are too caught up in their own tiff to notice you grab a glass of water. You almost feel sorry for Jake. Almost. He seems weaker than before, bones protruding from under his skin. Well, he chose this path for himself. Now you’d just have to wait to get a word in and ask Jungkook how he’s letting Jake sit here with no shackles.

You watch him chug down every drop, shaking fingers gripping onto the glass clumsily. He wipes the side of his mouth, “can I have some more, please?”

Hand on your hip, you bend down to take the glass from the table, focused on their argument. And then you hear the cup shatter, a strong arm around your neck. You cough, eyes bulging out of your skull as you feel your heartrate pick up once again.

But you don’t need to call Jungkook, Jake does it for you, dragging you to the door before grabbing one of the guns. You’re too terrified to take notice of where he places it, struggling and squirming for breath when you see Jungkook and Yoongi come running out of the kitchen, their expressions blurred.

“He-lp.” You bang a limp hand on Jake’s side, head going fuzzy.

You can feel his hot, putrid breath on your ear, his grip around your throat loosening slightly for you to yell out in pain.

“This won’t end,” Jake pants, pressing you into his chest, “this won’t end Jeon.”

Yoongi holds up his palms placatingly, while Jungkook looks like he’s a second away from charging forward. But he knows better.

“Relax,” Yoongi says awfully calm, flinching when the gun replaces the hand around your neck. You gulp, screwing your eyes shut, nothing but Jungkook’s panicked expression flashes behind your lids. “I’m sure we can figure something out. You won’t have to run anymore.”

“NO!” Jake growls, “I’m tired of your fucking promises!”

Feeling the gun slide down your throat lightly, you take it as your opening to drive your heel into his shin. He howls, gripping the back of your hair.

It happens too fast. The last thing you remember is being plummeted to the ground with the corner of the coffee table a little too close. Screaming. A few gunshots and then black.

The line between your dreams and reality is hazy. You wake up in a cold-sweat, heart thundering in your chest as you squint into the dark. The cold blue light coming from the window provides little help. The figurines lining the shelf next to you gives you a clue. A mix between a breath of relief and a distressed cry fills the silent air.

When you run a hand through your hair, the throb in your head being a painful reminder of what happened just before you collapsed. You sit up in bed when you hear voices, seeing your jacket hung over his chair in the corner as tears prickle the corners of your eyes. Then, you think of your dream. It was so weird, but you don’t want to forget it.

Jungkook’s glistening doe eyes looking up at you. Except he wasn’t himself. He was a kid again. From what you remember. A cute little boy.

Just as you’re about to stand up, Jungkook appears in the doorway, running a towel through his hair. He smiles, bare chest glistening in the low light, “you’re awake.”

The bed bounces when he sits down next to you, index finger tickling your cheek. You lean into his touch, throat a little itchy when you mumble a small greeting.

“You have pillow marks on your face,” he chuckles, minty breath fanning over your lips.

“What happened?”

His smile disappears, damp towel flopping into his lap, “well,” he begins, inhaling a shaky breath before his eyes meet yours, glazed with tears, “you hit your head and…I thought I lost you.”

Your lips tremble, searching for words, “and Jake?”

He smashes the heels of his palms into his eyes, dismissing your question with a shake of his head. Sniffling lightly, he takes both your hands into his own, pressing a kiss to each of your knuckles while you’re trying to swallow the boulder that seems to have lodged in your throat.

“How are you feeling?”

You nod, smoothing your thumbs over his fingers, “my head hurts a bit but I’m fine.”

“That fucker—” he grits, enraged for a millisecond. The crease between his eyebrows softens when he turns to you again, “don’t worry. Yoongi and I took care of the body.”

Your heart stills in your chest, “body?”

He shoots you a tormented look, “I thought you knew.”

“No,” you cry, “I can’t remember anything.”

He pulls you onto his lap, arms encircling your shoulders to calm your sobs, “shush, it’s okay. Jake…he…we tried to reason with him, but it was too late. If I was even a second late…” He pauses, burying his face in your shoulder, “I don’t know what I would’ve done.”

You’re at a loss for words. Still waiting for a proper explanation from him.

Spinning around in his lap, you cup his cheek, tilting his head slightly, “what was he doing with that guy, Yang?”

He licks his lips, a powerless look on his face, “Yang was after my father for a long time, so when he heard that I’m handling things…he was waiting for the right moment before he took action. Now, Jake,” he continues, voice strained with grief, “I don’t know how he got involved with Yang, but he knew that we were after him. Yang approached me and that’s how Jake landed up here.”

“Wait, you’re talking about that night? The night of your accident?”

He shrugs helplessly, “they didn’t give me much of a choice.”

“Shit.”

“If I didn’t stop Jake, one of us wouldn’t be here. And I couldn’t risk it,” he rushes out, as if convincing himself more than you. He speaks into your hair, clutching your hands tightly, “he lost control, ___. I didn’t know what else to do. If anything happened to you…or Yoongi.”

You spin around in his lap, pressing your forehead to his as you run your thumbs over his cheeks, wiping away the tears while yours cascade down your face.

“Baby, I’m still here,” you affirm, “I’m still here.”

“I don’t know what I would do without you,” he whispers, voice nasally and cracked, “you’re my lifeline.”

Fighting with your tears, you take his lips in a salty kiss, heart stuttering in your chest as he grabs the back of your head, angling your face for him to take over, capturing you in his passionate embrace. Your tongues lash against each other, falling back onto the bed where he lays you down on your side, hands sliding under your t-shirt.

His fingers twist in your hair, exposing your neck to his greedy attack on your neck. Drawing out soft whimpers from your kiss-bitten lips.

“If anyone lays a hand on you again,” he grits out, tongue laving over the fresh bruise he made with his teeth, “I’ll fucking…ki—”

His words are interrupted by your loud moans, grinding into his bulge that grows under the thin material of his towel. With the hold he has on your hair, he yanks your head back, free hand grabbing at your thigh that hooks around his waist instinctively.

“Desperate for my cock? It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

Meekly, your head hits your chin as you nod, struggling in his hold for some friction, heat pooling in your core. You ogle the hand that’s snug around your thigh, humming when he continues to knead your flesh.

“Missed this,” he smirks, reaching up to smack your ass, “missed these thighs.”

Tingles erupting over your skin, you lean forward, whining when he sucks his lips into his mouth, hand coming down on the back of your thigh to have you jolting forward. Pouting, you reach down and snatch the towel from around his waist, reaching down to grab the base of his veiny cock.

“Fuck,” he mutters under his breath, thrusting into your hand shallowly before he grips your wrist, legs on either side of your body as he pins your hands to the bed.

He smells of coconut, hair still wet from the shower which only has you wriggling in his hold, lifting your head to try and get a taste of the droplets sitting between his pecs.

Lips lifted in a smirk, his free hand travels up your stomach over your shirt, resting just below your nipples, “someone’s being a naughty slut tonight.” He tuts as if he doesn’t enjoy teaching you a lesson, as if he doesn’t love it when you’re completely fucked out beneath him, begging for him to keep going. Or for him to stop.

Heat unfurls in your lower abdomen, watching the way his long fingers wrap around his cock, precum messing your leggings as he runs the tip over your thighs.

“Jungkook…”

“What?”

“Touch me,” you whine, clit throbbing incessantly. He notices you eyeing his hands, obviously aware of how much you love them. Your mouth hangs open when he brings his fingers up to your mouth, tongue resting on your lower lip. Drool slips down the sides of your mouth as he runs them up and down your tongue, eyes shimmering with lust fixated on the motion.

You gag when he pushes them far back down your throat, clothes sticking to your body with the sweat you manage to work up from trying to keep still.

“Fucking slut. Ask me nicely. Otherwise, you won’t get anything, and you’d have to watch me make myself cum.”

“No, no,” you speak around his fingers, slicking up his whole hand with your spit, “please touch me. Please.”

Desperation brimming your voice, he lets you suck on his fingers for a little while, head cocked to the side while your tongue swirls around them. The same wet hand gets you naked in a split second, only your panties clinging to your folds while he positions you over his lap, hands running over the globes of your ass.

You’re grabbing onto the edge of the nightstand, eyes on the floor as he traces the outline of your puffy lips, getting close to where you need him the most. He pinches your clit over the fabric, and you lean back into his hand, earning a harsh smack to your ass. The action has you jerking forward, boobs hanging off the bed when he hikes your ass up higher, peeling off your panties.

He blows onto your cunt, thumbs holding your lips apart while your hole clenches, mouth glued shut with anticipation.

“Fuck, this slutty little pussy is begging for my cock,” he punctuates his words with a slap to your clit, spreading around your slick as you continue to clench around nothing, willing yourself not to make a move because it’ll only be more agonizing for you.

A gasp tumbles from your lips when he spits on your pussy twice, the third time a little higher, saliva dripping down your ass cheeks which he keeps spread open with the ruthless grip he has on one, fingers tracing your leaking hole.

“You’re gonna have to wait,” he chuckles, placing a featherlight touch on your clit, “got to stretch you out for my fat cock first. But you don’t mind, do you? You love my fingers, stretching you open until you’re a fucked out mess. You want that, huh? Have you moaning for everyone to hear?”

You’re panting, a chorus of ‘yes, yes, yes’ joining the sounds of his hand coming down on your ass cheeks, taken by surprise when he plunges two fingers into your sopping hole, unchaining a range of sensations that travel up the length of your body.

He finds your sweet spot with ease, pads of his dexterous fingers working to abuse it, hot squelches reaching your ears as you continue to drip down his hand, moaning unabashedly when he brings your ass up to his face and suckles your clit between his soft lips, taking you further into the throes of desire.

“Fuck, Jungkook,” you whimper, grinding on his tongue that rolls out against your clit, alternating between suctioning around your throbbing bud and lapping up your slick, both have you collapsing on the bed, unable to hold yourself up any longer.

“Gonna cum already? Been so long since I touched you like this and it’s gonna be over so soon,” he laments with a snigger, tongue curling around your clit just as he shoves his fingers into your cunt at breakneck speed. “I can feel you squeezing around my fingers, fuck.”

Your head lolls forward, shoulders vibrating with the pleasure while you’re rutting into his hand and face, eyes rolling back once you take in the sensation of his thumb encircling your puckered hole, filthy sounds of his mouth slurping up your essence only urges you on. His fingers don’t stop for a beat and your thighs begin to shake, breaths becoming weaker and weaker. You cry out when he bites your inner thigh, adding a third finger to your pussy while your other hole clenches with the feeling of his thumb dragging over the sensitive skin there.

“Ah, fuck. Jungkook. I’m gonna—” your eyelids flutter, lips parted when he slides a sticky hand around your neck and brings you close to his chest.

“Come on, fuck yourself on my fingers. That’s it, good girl. Such a pretty little slut for me.”

Hands on his thighs, you lift yourself off his hand, chasing your high with wanton moans of his name. You can feel his cock press into your back, finger and thumb closing around the sides of your neck as you try to stave off your orgasm, relishing in the feel of his fingers molding to your ridged walls.

He turns your head with his thumb, lips grazing yours just as he hooks his fingers into your pussy, buried deep inside while your nails dig into his thighs, your high rippling through you in paralyzing waves. But he doesn’t stop moving his hand, loving the way your thighs and ass trembles the more he drives his fingers into your swollen cunt.

“Jungkook,” you gasp, pained moans leaping from your chest that heaves when he begins to scissor you open. He smacks your hand away when you reach behind to pull away his hand, rubbing that spot inside you with a laugh.

“Gonna cum again? Hm? Give me another, come on,” he’s just as breathless as you, keeping you flush against his chest before you surrender to the feeling and gush all over his hand once again, sighing when he brings your slick up to your engorged clit.

You slide down his lap, given no time to catch your breath before his glazed cockhead hits your chin, hair being tossed over your shoulder as you sink down and take him to the back of your throat. Practiced twists of your hand around the base to hear him groan and hiss, fingers twisting in your hair to guide you over his thick cock.

“That’s it, get it nice and wet for me,” he purrs, hand meeting your ass in a searing smack. You moan around his length, wiggling your head expertly as you feel him grow in your mouth, tongue peeking out to graze the skin of his balls. “Fucking shit.”

He drags you off his cock, painful grip in your hair adding to your arousal, “want me to cum in your mouth? Is that what you wanted? Speak whore.”

“J-Just want your cock,” you blubber, leaning down to lick at his nipples hotly.

He bites down his whimper, reaching up to pluck at your nipples which has you flinging your head back. You grip his shoulder when his nail grazes your sensitive skin, attempting to straddle his lap but he pushes you off the bed entirely. Keeping you on your feet.

“Like a fucking ragdoll,” he grips your hips, guiding your hands to the nightstand as he kicks your legs open, prodding at your entrance with the blunt tip, “waiting to be filled with cock.”

You’re waiting for him to sink in, but he slaps your ass, only the head being shoved in when you jerk backward, keening for him.

“Say it,” he growls, “tell me what a desperate cockslut you are.”

“I’m a—Ah!”

He sinks in swiftly, bottoming out while your nails curl over the wood, holding on for dear life when he draws his hips back and slams into you with renewed vigor. Your sensitive walls welcome each vein, each ridge, each inch. Wet pussy stretching to accommodate his length as your bodies meet in fiery lust. Your nerves are lit with pleasure, every moan ending in a scream when he hits that spot on his thrust, hips drilling his cock to the hilt.

“Fuck, so fucking tight for me,” he almost whines, large hand placed on your back to have you falling forward. Body folded in half as he finds a new angle and begins to thrust upwards. Blood rushes to your head, reaching out for his ankles to fuck back on him just the way he likes before you hear his moans begin to taper off into whimpers and then he’s pulling you back up and you’re tossed onto the bed, head hanging off the edge when he slips right in.

He grips your chin, tapping your lip and your jaw immediately unhinges, flinching when he spits directly on your tongue, walls pulsing around his throbbing cock.

“Swallow it,” he warns, raven hair dripping with sweat that hits your forehead as he rams into you, boobs bouncing in time with his thrusts. Your lips part, a satisfied hum reverberating from his chest.

Your mind is empty. Nothing but the sounds and sensations of Jungkook’s cock splitting open your pussy fills your head. Delirious, you’re trying to meet his thrusts but your head feels fuzzy, getting extremely close to the edge with every perfect snap of his hips. His fingers twist and pinch your nipples, teeth sinking into your shoulder to etch more of his marks into your skin.

“Come on,” he teases, hand wrapping around your throat, “how does it feel? Does it feel good, hm? My cock buried inside your pussy. Want me to touch your clit? Of course you want that. Greedy little slut.”

His thumb flicks your clit from side to side, heady gaze locked on yours with his hips working faster, his muscular body wrapped around yours, “want me to stuff this pussy full of my cum? Hm? Can’t even speak. Tell me slut, want me to cum inside your pussy?”

Unable to hold back any longer, his words pulling that sensation taut in your abdomen until it snaps and you’re trembling under him, walls quivering around his length as he whimpers and curses. Spilling deep inside you when you clamp down on him. Tingles rise on your skin, mouth hanging open in a silent moan. Your ears ring once the feeling starts to ebb away. He pulls out, eliciting a yelp from your lips when he starts to fuck his fingers into you, stuffing his leaking cum back inside your hole.

You’re unconscious for the second time that night.

Something wakes you up from your sleep, and you expect it to be morning. However, the moon is still high up, sitting among the stars. You’re wearing one of Jungkook’s shirts, sore from earlier as you rise from the pillow. It takes you a few seconds to notice that he’s sitting hunched at the foot of the bed, staring out the window with an unreadable expression on his face.

Curiously, you scoot down and kiss his bare shoulder, taking him by surprise. He gives you a small smile, tucking you under his arm as you join him to watch the still of the night.

“What are you thinking about?”

His hair flops over his eyes as he shakes his head, “nothing.”

“It has to be something.”

The same unreadable expression returns to his face and you’re annoyed, because you need to know what it means.

“Yoongi is leaving.”

He’s worried.

“I know.”

He opens and closes his mouth a few times before finally saying, “I wish it was that easy for me.”

Your eyebrows pinch together, “what do you mean?”

He blinks, Adam’s apple bobbing when he turns to face you, “I wish it was that easy for me to just leave.”

One thing Jungkook hated discussing, was his family and their line of business. The fact that he’s talking about it tonight tells you that’s deeply affected by Yoongi’s decision. You are too. You just weren’t sure about how he felt about it.

“You can.”

He scoffs, averting his gaze to your intertwined fingers, “yeah, right. I’m in for life.”

You’d rather not speak at all then lie. But the silence after his statement becomes too much for you.

“Where would you go?”

“Hm?”

“If you could leave,” you continue, choosing your words carefully, “where would you go?”

“Far away,” he says with no thought, “far away from here, from everyone. My family, yours. This town. This life.”

“And what about me?”

At that he smiles, nose nudging yours, “I’ll take you with me, of course.”

You giggle, “and what will we do far away?”

“Whatever you want. But—” he holds up a finger “—it has to be nothing like what we do here.”

“Nothing like what we do here?”

“Yes.”

“Nothing,” you tease, cocking a suggestive brow.

He slides a hand over your waist, catching up quickly, “with a few exceptions.”

The kiss is slow and hypnotic, lips moving over one another like you have all the time in the world. Because you do.

If only that were true.

You fell off to sleep on the other end of the bed, waking up to a yelling Jungkook as he shakes your shoulder lightly.

“What? What happened?”

He’s fully dressed, gloves and jacket on, helmet tucked under his arm. You follow him out of the room, a bitter taste on your tongue. Yoongi waits at the door, nail lodged between his teeth while you’re stumbling after Jungkook. Except he’s still in his pajamas like you.

“I have to go,” he states, rushing out the door.

You grab his arm, puzzled, “where are you going? Let me come with you.”

He doesn’t meet your eyes, the same unreadable expression on his face from last night, “no you can’t. It’s not safe.”

“If it’s not safe,” you breathe, blocking your eyes from the brutal sunlight, “then why are you going?”

“Because I have to,” he rushes, faint scar on his cheek much more noticeable now, “it’s Yang.”

Your heart thunders in your chest. Teeth grinding into each other as you try to keep away the tears.

“Is Yoongi going with you?”

“No.”

“How long are you going for?”

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?”

His head snaps up, gaze stern, “I have to go.” You let him take your face in his heads, savoring the feeling of his lips against yours and when he pulls away, you can’t keep the sorrow from brimming your eyes. “I promise I’ll be back soon, okay?”

You lick your lips, stepping away from the road, “okay.”

Eyes burning with sadness, you watch him roll away with his bike. A determined crease between his brows when he stops to look at you. Yoongi stands a few feet away, reaching out for you but you’re rooted to the spot, wiping away your tears that worsen the longer he stares at you.

Heart skipping a beat, you wrap your arms around Jungkook’s shoulders when he charges toward you, kissing every inch of your skin available to him before holding you impossibly close, mumbling into the crown of your head. You memorize the feel of him in your arms, the thick leather a little frustrating when your hands skate over his back.

“I’ll be back soon,” he chuckles, squishing your cheeks between his calloused palms, “why are you crying so much?”

“I don’t know,” you wail, “I’m just worried.”

“You don’t have to worry. I’ll be back soon. You’re my strong girl, aren’t you?”

Even if you don’t want to do it, the imploring look in his eyes has you nodding.

“Do you trust me?”

“I trust you.”

“Then try not to worry. I’m still with you,” he says after kissing your forehead, holding up the locket around your neck, “stay with Yoongi. He’s gonna take you someplace safe.”

“Okay.”

“I love you,” he grits, pressing your face into his chest, “so fucking much.”

“I love you too.”

As he drives away, you don’t stay to watch him go like you usually do. There’s an unshakable twist in your gut and you don’t know what to do to get rid of it.

It’s not safe in their apartment, Yoongi says. So, as if your belongings weren’t already packed, you cart everything to his van and take the journey to town. Only one man and his promises on your mind.

“Remember what I said about college?”

You hum, watching the trees blur into one big green blob.

“You up for it? Yuri can help you get in.”

“I don’t know. College? I don’t think I’d qualify for a scholarship,” you exhale a dry laugh.

“Who said anything about a scholarship? Check the bag.”

Yoongi wears a smug grin, gesturing to the bag near your foot with his chin. As expected, wads of cash spill from the seams.

“Whe—”

“Jungkook left that for you.”

“Why?”

He laughs in disbelief, “why? What do you mean why?”

Your gaze flits from his face to the bag, the unsettling feeling in your gut only heightening.

“How long will he be gone for?”

Yoongi purses his lips, eyes on the road.

“Yoongi,” you say warily, “how long?”

“Not too long. He just wanted you to be safe.”

You huff, zipping up the bag furiously, “and you think college will be a good idea?”

“Yeah!”

Yoongi goes on and on about the future, about his girlfriend, Yuri. About everything in life but your future with Jungkook. Jungkook. You have so many questions running through your mind that if you close your eyes to keep them away, it only worsens with Jungkook’s sweet face appearing.

Your fingers graze the locket around your neck. His first gift to you. The photo of the two of you from your holiday together fitted in your palm.

As the minutes tick by, Yoongi’s optimism unable to break your shield of grief, you realize that as long as Jungkook is not with you, you’ll have to live with your loneliness.

❝which scene was your favorite? mine was the hospital scene 🥺♡❞ i’m falling hard for this man pretend you didn’t see this

a/n — please, if you liked this drop a like/reblog or an ask so we can chat about it!

⤺masterlist

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fruitoftheweek · 4 years ago

Text

Little Cherry Book:

Chapter 4:Showered in Sin

Chapter 1 Here / Chapter 2 Here / Chapter 3 Here

Hey guys! I'm sorry that it has taken so long for me to update this. I had an idea of what I was going to write but I had a super hectic week so I wasn't able to write this till now. In order to make up for it, I have given you a treat. A 6,502 word chapter. It kinda beat my ass but I had so much fun writing it. It's sweet, it's spicy, it's all the goodness you guys deserve. I was listening to Duvet by Boa while writing this and I think you should too for two reasons. One, it helps set the mood, but also oh my fucking god it's such a good song. Also, Boa is just a fucking great band. I hope you guys enjoy this chapter and message me if you would like to be added to the tag list! Love you guys

Pairing: Spencer Reid X reader

Chapter Plot: After a game of drunk never have I ever after a long case, Morgan locks Spencer out of their shared room. Shenanigans ensue and you and Spencer share a couple of firsts.

Series TW: 18+, smut, degradation, piercing, choking, knife play, mommy/daddy kinks, spanking, exhibitionism, Will update as time goes on

Chapter TW: smut, slight mommy kink, having body piercings, choking, slight blood kink (not really, it's just hard to explain), Shared masturbation (male and female receiving), pleading, multiple orgasms, cumming in pants, shower sexiness, aftercare

Word Count: 6,502

Your deep cherry lipstick painted the white seal of the wine bottle you held in your hand as you laughed at something Elle said. Spencer couldn't help but let a small smile pass his lips as he took in your form, hot from the day's work, small strands of your hair sticking to your forehead, a dewy glow illuminating your rosy cheeks.

After a long week, they had found Carl Arnold before he had been able to kill the Dunken family and even coerced a confession out of him. With spirits running high, Elle had suggested some much-needed relaxation before taking off the next day. Since you were rooming alone, you volunteered to host in your room. Morgan had arrived at your hotel room with two bottles of some sort of liquor, one clear and one amber, JJ trailing in toe with your bottle of red wine you had asked for. You pulled out your little corkscrew with the face of an old man on it, knowing she hated his weird little face. You brought it with you on trips, just in case the occasion arose.

And it did arise as Elle suggested a drinking game. Hotch had retired early after calling Hailey to get an update on his very pregnant wife, while Gideon preferred the solitude of a good book late at night. The rest of you sat on the floor surrounded by drinks and snacks. With the supervision gone, it almost felt like a high school party with no parents. You all had all settled on a classic, never have I ever. "We haven't played this in a long time because we already know so much about each other, but it's fun when we have a newbie around," Morgan said giving you a cheeky smile and bumping your shoulder. Already pliable after the couple of drinks you had while Elle explained the game, you nodded before tipping your lips to the cusp of Spencer's ear. "I'll try not to make it too hard for you, pretty boy," you said. The small puffs of air that left your mouth made Spencer's hair stand on end and his feet curl.

He knew you were teasing him that night and he loved it. He decided to keep his knees tucked to his chest for the rest of the night as to not expose the predicament in his pants. He watched the way you lightly sucked on the wine bottle as you tipped it back, a thin river of cabernet leaking from the corner of your lips and trailing down your neck. Spencer wanted nothing more than to lean over and lap it off of you just to see how you would react, but he knew it was the drinks talking. Despite your earlier comment, it was quite obvious that you were targeting him as his head started to spin gently.

"Never have I ever had sex with someone much older than me," Garcia said through her video feed with a cheeky smirk. Derek had insisted on including her even though she wasn't physically present. She sat bundled up in a comfy blanket in her office with a mug of some sort of alcoholic beverage. "HEY! No targeting! Plus, I told you that in confidence at ladies night. How much is much older?" You said, swaying your bottle towards the computer set up on the floor."You know how much older I mean sweetheart." Garcia said with a giggle as you groaned and took a sip."How much older is much older?" Morgan said with a cocked eyebrow, somewhere between impressed and surprised." I was a college student, experimenting with my professor. Not like an old man, but he was 20 years older than me. Definitely not my style anymore though." You said with a grimace remembering him.

Spencer had learned a lot about your sex life during that game, but some part inside of him smirked, knowing that the rest of the team would never know you as he knew you, not unless they too had read your journal. It was the only thing keeping his head clear of the idea of you with anyone else. Not that you were with him in any capacity, but the idea still made him feel something in his stomach. Not the sweet butterflies that came with your smile, but something more like idiotic hornets dangerously bumping against the walls of his stomach.

Spencer hadn't even noticed the uproar of everyone else around the circle at your comment and the second revelation that Morgan had drunk too. He was too busy watching how you had shyly tucked your hair behind your ear, finally letting it down out of your clips for once. You were wearing your pajamas, just a tank top, slouchy sweater, and flannel pajama pants, but somehow you looked more radiant than ever. He had come back down to earth after hearing someone call his name."Y-Yes?" He sputtered out, realizing you had been trying to get his attention."It's Morgan's turn, pay attention." You said, gently smacking your hand down on his thigh.

If he was riled up before, he was unbelievably undone at the slight sting from where your palm had just been. Light enough that it wasn't noticeable, but hard enough that it erupted a Shockwave through his body, centered on the location of the contact. He bit back the whimper threatening to escape his lips as he turned towards Morgan, trying desperately to not watch you from the corner of his eye.

"Never have I been a virgin at 24," Morgan said, beaming in his direction. Spencer took a big gulp from his glass of whiskey."You always do that one, I don't know why you think it's so funny, you're just trying to get me to drink" he said abashedly. He looked over at you, nervous for your reaction, but you seemed unfazed. "Hey, that's a wonderful gift to have, there's something so special about virgins. Maybe it's the idea that everything is new, but I like it. I love virgins." You said, taking a sip from your bottle, gently swaying. You had given up on never have I ever and just decided to drink whenever you felt like it. Maybe it was because you were tipsy, maybe it was the warm flush that decorated Spencer's cheeks, maybe it was the way he was looking at you with sultry, half-lidded eyes. You couldn't tell, but something made you want to find an excuse for you two to be alone.

"Geese, we seemed to have caught a succubus tonight." Morgan quipped."A suck-you-what now?" You said, cocking an eyebrow at him. " A succubus, it's a demon or supernatural entity in folklore, in female form, that appears in dreams to seduce men, usually through sexual activity. According to religious traditions, repeated sexual activity with a succubus can cause poor physical or mental health, even death. In modern representations, a succubus is often depicted as a beautiful seductress or enchantress, rather than as demonic or frightening." Spencer shot out. "Wow, even when you're drunk, your big brain keeps chuggin' along," you said, sloppily ruffling his hair "A beautiful seductress or enchantress, huh?" That time it came out low, inaudible to the others, but it pierced Spencer like a knife."Do you think that's accurate bout me?" you asked, staring up into his eyes, closer than you have been before. Spencer let a cartoonish gulping noise escape his lips as he held back his urge to lean into your touch.

"Ah, it's my turn," you said, leaning back into your spot in the circle and sadly, away from Spencer." Never have I ever done something naughty at our work," you said, looking straight at Spencer "I'll know if you're lying, I can sniff out a liar from a mile away," your cocky smirk leaking out of your mouth. Everyone except you and JJ took a shot."Wow, really you guys? Even you Spence? " JJ said in disbelief, looking around the circle."Never have I ever, my ass" Spencer mumbled under his breath, just loud enough for you to hear, looking over at you, thinking about your pantieless escapades.

"Look at that, Doctor Reid, you need another drink, let me go fix you one," You said as you grabbed his glass in one hand, leaning and gripping hard into his shoulder with the other. It wasn't seen by the others, but between that and the fiery look in your eyes, it sent an obvious message,' keep your mouth shut or I'll shut it for you.' You used him as leverage to get up, nearly pushing him over as you gracefully stumbled to the hotel fridge. He knew what you meant, but he didn't care, your grip on him went straight into his imagination as he envisioned what that grip would feel like in other places. He kind of wanted to push his luck, just so he could see what he had in store.

And push it he did as you handed him the glass, reminding him that it was indeed his turn to play never have I ever. "Never have I ever slept with my professor," He said, obviously targeting you with a glint of mischief in his eyes."Oh yeah, well never have I ever been a virgin at 24." You said, swaying as you sat down."Morgan already said that, dummy. Never have I ever worn stupid dark red lipstick" He retorted, equally as drunk as you. At this point everyone else had zoned you two out and were focused on other things, refreshing their drinks, counting the ceiling tiles, humming a sloppy rendition of My My Miss American Pie, or in Penelope's case, all three."Yeah, well never have I ever been a complete and utter mommas boy!" You continued, the statement turning Spencer beet red. You watched him clench and unclench his hands, you had obviously struck a nerve. Just as you were about to apologize, he cut you off. "Never have I ever had nipple piercings!" He shouted, pointing at your chest, now drawing attention to the obvious balls framing your nipples that you had once been covered by your long-forgotten sweater.

As he said it, it felt like the world went in slow motion. You could see the instant regret on his face as you dropped your bottle in surprise. It had landed on Spencers discarded whiskey glass and both shattered, wine and whiskey mixing with glass to create a slurry on the ground between them. "Fuck! You Guys!" Morgan said, "You got it all over my clothes." "Me too," Echoed Elle as they both stood up in their soaked clothes. "I think that calls it a night." JJ said, closing the laptop on the image of an already sleeping Garcia." Bye you guys, sleep well," you called after them as you and Spencer rushed around looking for towels to clean up the alcohol with.

"Ow! Son of a bitch!" Spencer cried as you dropped the last of the glass in the garbage can. As you rounded the corner, you saw Spencer pulling a rather large shard of glass that you must have missed out of his thumb, blood pooling at the tip. Without thinking, you crouched down and sucked his thumb into your mouth." A-ah! What... What are you doing!?" Spencer asked breathlessly, looking down at you with a deep hunger in his eyes. You pop off his thumb and squeeze it at the base, slowing the blood flow."Shut up," You said," This helps slow the bleeding. The sucking applies pressure. My mom used to do this for me... And no, do not psychoanalyze that." You said, wrapping your mouth around his finger, sucking to provide some pressure to slow the blood flow. You could taste the iron in your mouth, but you didn't mind, knowing you were helping your friend.

You were helping alright, helping in more ways than you would ever understand. "Yeah, like I'm the only one here with mommy issues," he said distractedly, too busy surveying your lips wrapped around him. You slapped your hand down on his thigh once more, eliciting a small whimper from him. He couldn't help it, you were a sight of beauty, you always were, but looking down on you right then, Spencer wanted to bottle that moment forever. The tops of your breasts peeking out from the top of your tank top, your eyes filled with a hazy glow, looking up at him to make sure he was ok, and your cheeks hollowing out around his thumb as you delicately sucked on his wound. It was as close as Spencer had ever gotten to anything sexual. He could feel your tongue swirling around the cut, lapping up the last couple drops of blood. He couldn't help but imagine what it would be like if it was another appendage and not his thumb. You sucked on his thumb one last time, harder than you had previously, and before he even knew what he was doing, his hips bucked up, rubbing his hard cock against his pajama pants, finally relieving his mounting orgasm.

You let go of his finger with a pop as your tongue trailed off of the underside of his thumb. Spencer looked anywhere but you, as a wet patch formed through his thin underwear and pajama pants. He hurried to cover it with his sweater, shooting up from his seated position."Um, Um, I'm g-gonna go shower and go to bed." He said, hurriedly scurrying over to where he had left his room key." Sorry partner, I saw Morgan accidentally grab both of your keys on the way out. He's probably asleep by now." You said languidly, leaning back to take in the sight of the soft boy in front of you. Totally flushed with heat, small beads of sweat peppering his forehead, his hands twiddling suspiciously into his sweater in an attempt to conceal crotch, trying and failing miserably to hide his rapidly cooling cum.

He whined a little, lighting a fire in you. He looked so thoroughly fucked out, and all you had done was suck his finger. You knew that you just had to play with him some more. "You know, you can use my shower, doctor." You said, and he let out a small sigh of relief, heading towards the bathroom. "There is one condition, though," You smirked coyly as he halted his motions, his body facing away from you. It was almost as if he was ready to run away at any moment. You walked over to him, slowly, taking your time to tease him. The silence hung heavy in the air as you looked up into his eyes questioningly, waiting for him to ask. "Wh-what is the condition." He said, unable to return your gaze, hands fisted in the hem of his sweater, pulling it down even further. You smirked, dipping your hands up and under his sweater, nearly brushing his spent cock before gently placing them on his bare stomach, just above his waistband. He sucked in a tight breath as you gently swirled your fingers in the short hair that lead from his belly button down to happier places." Before I ask, do you know about the color scale?" you said, fingers smoothing out over his little stomach." Um, k-kinda?" He said, heat flushing his cheeks."Green means good keep going, yellow means slow down, and red means stop right now, ok?" You said, looking up at him as he nods."Come on pretty boy, I need verbal confirmation. I need to know that you understand, got it." You said with a little pinch to his tummy. "Y-Yes, I understand!" He blurted out, standing stiff as a board." Good boy. Now, for my condition. You can shower if you show me what you're hiding." You said, leaning close enough that if Spencer breathed, your chests would meet each other. "What color, Spencer?" you said, languidly drawing lines up and down his torso with your nails."G-Green, Very green." He sputtered out, finally meeting your eyes."That's what I like to hear, sweet boy." You said before your fingers danced below his waistline, now somewhat crusty from his cum."W-wait!" He says, just as you were about to take him in your hand. You instantly stopped and looked up at him gently."We can stop here baby, it's not a problem." You said, beginning to remove your hand from his pants. He grabbed your hand through his pants, stopping your movement."It-It's not that. I don't want to stop, I just want... well..." He said and looked down shyly. "What do you want baby, anything," You smiled up at him. "Um, I haven't had my first kiss yet and I kinda... Well... I kinda..." He said, shuffling his feet, face beet red. Your eyebrows shot up quickly in surprise before letting out a gentle smile."Do you want a kiss, pretty boy?" You said, gently brushing the hair out of his face. He nodded, and you grabbed his chin, bringing him close. "Use your words, pretty boy. What do you want?" You whispered, breath gently ghosting Spencer's lips as he took you in up close. He could see every little pore and dimple of your skin and every color hidden in the depth of your eyes and he knew he needed to have you.

He shakily leaned forward, lips gently meeting yours, so light that if you hadn't seen his actions, you wouldn't have even known if you had touched. You moved your hand down to his throat, giving a light squeeze."Come on genius, use your words," you said as he whimpered. "Please, can I kiss you, please, please?" He begged, leaning into your touch, pleading for you to squeeze again. His efforts shoot straight to your heart. You indulged him in a kiss, not as spicy as the situation would permit, more of a sweet heat. He came in too hot and heavy at first, but you kissed him languidly, gently stroking his cheek to get him in the rhythm. His arms were straight out at his sides, hands clenched as if he was willing every muscle in his body to not touch you.

You let out a small laugh as you melted into his kiss, soft, puffy lips dancing across yours. "You know you can touch me," You said, pulling back, smiling at the smear of your lipstick, now staining his lips, and the endearing puppy dog eyes he was giving you. "Where can I touch you?" He whispered out as if he were telling a secret. "Wherever you want, baby. Wherever your heart desires." You replied, bringing your arms up to wrap loosely around his neck, pulling your bodies closer. He was as stiff as a board as his hands flitted around trying to find a good place to land. He finally settled on weaving his arms around your waist and up to cradle your neck, gently carding his fingers through the hair that fell at the nape of your neck. There was something so sweet in the way he cradled your body with feather-light touches as if you would disappear like smoke if he lingered too long. You reveled in the feeling of you two pressed together, slightly uncomfortable at the stiff material of his pajama pants on your stomach.

"Hey sweetheart," You said, pulling away as he chased after your lips, "I'm feeling kinda sweaty from the day, would you like to join me in the shower? What color?" "G-green, yes please." He said, tentatively pressing a kiss to your collarbone, exposed as the strap of your tank top had fallen down. You unwound from him, taking his hand delicately in your own, instantly missing the warmth his body provided.

You lead him into the bathroom, carefully stepping over the wine-soaked towels discarded on the floor before shutting the door and turning to face him. "I don't want to take this too fast for you because I know it's all very new so always tell me how you are feeling and if everything is ok. I want this to be good for you baby, ok?" You said, squeezing his hand that was still intertwined with yours. "Ok, th-thank you," He said shyly.

"Now, what do you want to do first? You're probably pretty uncomfortable in those pants, do you want me to take them off you?" You said, hooking one of your fingers into his waistband, pulling on in slightly creating a much-needed separation between his sticky cock and his uncomfortable pants."Y-Yes please" He said as you turned on the shower, allowing it to warm up in preparation for cleaning him off before turning back to him. You gently grabbed the hem of his sweater and pulled it over his head, leaving him shirtless in front of you.

Lean muscles were hidden under a layer of peachy soft skin highlighting the gentle trail of dark curly hair leading from his belly button down past his pants. His arms curled around himself as he watched your eyes carefully, ready for some sort of judgment. "I know I'm not really that s-strong or anything but I can work on it-" You cut him off with a gentle kiss right above his belly button, startling him. You looked up sweetly into his eyes and gave him a soft smile, saying "You are so beautiful, Spencer. Morgan calls you pretty boy, but he truly has no idea. I would have you no other way than you are right now."

You gently peppered his chest with feather-light kisses, making him blush. He finally understood why people liked hickeys because as you trailed down his chest, the little wine red lipstick you had left on your lips left marks trailing down his chest. Some part of him wished they were permanent, showing off to all that could see, and they would know exactly who he belonged to. You dipped your hand into his waistband, asking, "What color?" "Green, very green," he choked out as your breath ghosted across his abdomen. You looked so beautiful, kneeled on the floor in front of him, taking care of him so gently and treating him so sweetly that he could feel his cock begin to harden again.

You looked up into his eyes as you pulled his pants down. He let out a soft sigh of relief as he was uncaged from his unfortunate trouser situation. His cock flipped down out of his pants, nearly smacking you in the forehead as you looked up at it in awe. Even though it was only semi-hard, it was bigger than any you had ever seen before. Spencer looked down at you shyly "it's not that much, I-I know but I've been researching techniques to make up for it in order to give sufficient pleasure for you- I mean for whatever partners I may have, not that I am saying that I won't please you, I dream of pleasuring you! ... I'm digging myself a hole aren't I."He rambled, rubbing the back of his neck worriedly. "Spencer, you are huge. Way more than I have ever had before. See?" You said, standing up, gently lifting his cock in your hand, measuring it against your stomach.

Maybe Spencer hadn't noticed because it was proportionate to his body and his big hands, but being held in your petite hands and measured against your stomach, he finally did see how much he would fill you up. The tip of his dick just barely reached past the gems that decorated your belly button piercing. "W-Woah." He said growing harder at the thought of pushing so deep into you. He looked up to your face, which was preoccupied with looking down at how far he would reach up in you.

Tearing your eyes away from him and up to his own, you flushed, knowing that he had caught you staring. "What would you like me to do next?" You spoke softly. Despite being the only two in the room, you two both talked in hushed tones, worrying that anything more than that would burst the delicate bubble you two had created. "Can we match?" He said, and you instantly understood him, despite the odd vernacular. You began to slip off your shirt, but he stopped you with an arm on your shoulder. "C-Can I do it?" He said shyly. "Of course, pretty baby," you barely get out before he drifted his hands under your tank.

He slowly lifted your top over your head as he took in the soft smooth feeling of your skin against his, goosebumps pricking up wherever his fingers trailed. You stood in front of him, shirtless as he took in your form. He had imagined what your breasts would look like. Nipples always hard due to your piercings, what your jewelry would look like, but nothing could prepare him for the glimmering moonstone gems that adorned your nipples and navel. Everything matched exactly, including the delicate necklace you wore around your neck.

The only thing he liked more than the perfection of your body was the features that made you, you. Some might call them imperfections, but to Spencer, all he could see in you was beauty. The gentle bruises on your skin from tangles with unsubs, the soft stretch marks that adorned your hips like little valleys and winding rivers, the slight blemishes, and hairs. He loved it because you were the embodiment of the confidence he wished for in himself. While he was always nervous about his body and how others perceived him, you loved yourself for exactly who you were, and you loved him for exactly who he was.

He pulled down your pants, gently following the twist and turn of the stretch marks as they winded down your hips, making sure to kneel down to pull them all the way off of you as you delicately stepped out, gently grabbing onto his hair to keep your balance as you swayed. He moaned softly at the gentle tug of your fingers while he stared up at you in awe. You took his hand in yours, coaxing him to stand.

You both stood there, taking in each other's forms for a moment, hands still connected as if by a thread at the pinky before you spoke. "We shouldn't waste water. Let me clean you off, sweetheart." He nodded before following after you into the gentle spray of the shower, steam now filling the room. He marveled at the way that the water droplets cascaded down your body, gently running down your curves. "Come here," you said, pulling him into a gentle embrace under the hot water.

Your two bodies pressed gently together, and Spencer couldn't help but think that you were molded for each other. Not in the way that a sculptor may stick two unmatched pieces of clay together with slip, more like one rock that had been split by the earth finally returning together. Something about your touch felt like home as you gently cradled him under the water.

He was so enthralled in your being that he didn't notice you gently scrubbing him with a washcloth until the scent of your body wash permeated the air. You gently scrubbed his back, washing off the sweat of the day and replacing it with you. He melted into you as your hands reached up, lathering his hair with shampoo. He wasn't sure if it was because he realized you should probably be getting washed too or because he desperately wanted to ride his hands along the planes of your body, but he decided to lather up his hands and wash you as well. "You are such a good boy. Thank you for cleaning me up" You said, resting your head gently on his chest, softly swirling the soap around his back, now finished scrubbing all you could from that angle, waiting to turn him around.

He moved carefully, avoiding your butt, still too nervous to touch. "Make sure you get everything, sweet boy. I like to be clean when I go to bed." You said, gently grabbing his hand and pulling it down to cup your butt. He inhales a sharp breath as he indulged in a gentle squeeze, continuing to wash you. He washed your back but his hands would occasionally drift down to your ass, growing more confident as he unknowingly rocked into you slightly with every squeeze, letting out soft keening noises.

You peeled yourself off of him as he rutted into the air, whining at the loss of friction. "Slow down, naughty boy. Bad boys don't get to touch. Are you a bad boy?" you asked as you placed a finger on the tip of his cock, swirling it in the precum pooling there despite the water's efforts to wash it off. "No, no! I'm a good boy! You're just so pretty, and you feel so good, and you smell so nice, and I wanna touch you, and I want you to touch me, please." He blurted out, looking at you with hungry eyes, begging for more friction. "Where do you want to touch me baby?" you asked as his eyes raked over your body, taking in all of his options. "I want to touch your boobies and your- your-" "My what? You can say it, naughty boy." You cut him off in his stammering. "Your pussy, I want to touch your pussy." He said, the hot water spreading the blush from his cheeks down his chest, tingeing his cock with a pretty pink hue. "What naughty words from such a pretty boy. You can touch-" he cut you off, lunging towards your body before you grabbed him by the throat, squeezing experimentally. Not too hard, not too soft. He moaned, and you felt the vibrations traveling up your hands."Let me finish what I was saying. Naughty boys don't get to touch. They get spanked." You said as he mewled." What I was going to say before I was so rudely interrupted was that you can touch, AFTER I wash you and after you finish washing me. Only after, you got it?" you said, squeezing a little tighter. "Y-yes." he croaked out. "Good boy," you replied.

You washed out the shampoo in his hair, replacing it with conditioner as he did the same for you. You squirted more soap onto your washcloth, preparing to test him. You took the washcloth in your hand, slowly working over his legs, arms, and chest, teasingly brushing over his overspent cock before returning to cleaning him. He washed you thoroughly, taking care to wash your legs before making sure your stomach and belly button piercing were thoroughly cleaned. Finally, he reached up to wash the leftover makeup off of your face. He touched you like a porcelain doll, worried that you would crack under even the slightest pressure, making you giggle. He flinched, thinking he hurt you, but you grabbed his face in your hands, delivering him a kiss that covered his face in soap.

You both stood there, laughing for a second, relishing the moment before you let out a shy smile. "You can touch my chest now, but make sure you clean my piercings carefully." He looked down at your chest, and now that he'd been given permission, he didn't really know what to do. You could see the puzzled look on his face so you grabbed one of his soapy hands in yours and brought it to your breast. He squeezed experimentally, and you let out a gentle moan. You had been keeping in your arousal to draw out his teasing, but you couldn't hold yourself back as you felt his large hands grasp around your chest and roll your nipple in his fingers.

There was a sweet dichotomy in the harshness of his grasp on your boob, coupled with the gentle twist of your nipple. It was as if he was worried to hurt your piercings, so he made up for it in his grasp. You brought the washcloth down to his cock, hard against his stomach, and began to work him. He whined at the harsh material. "I need to clean you up, baby. You still have a cummy cock. If you beg hard enough when I'm done, I will touch you." You said into his ear as he rested his head on your shoulder.

He was overstimulated, and you could tell, so you decided you wouldn't take as long as you wanted to tease him. But you would still draw it out for your own pleasure. He was bucking and mewling into you as you roughly got him off. It shot you straight to your core, the heat from the shower mixed with his grasp on you, physically and visually, had you closer than you wanted, and deep down you just wanted him to touch you.

When you deemed him clean enough you let the rag drop to the floor. "Beg" you moaned out. "Please, please touch me, I want your hand on me, that's all I want." He whined, bucking into the air. You took pity on him, grasping him with your soap-covered hand. He hissed as your soft touch replaced the rough rag and you could tell he was close. "Touch me, Spencer." You said and his hand shot to your core. His tentative moves giving way to a natural confidence. As he slipped a hand between your folds he could feel you dripping with desire. "O-Oh my god," was all he could stammer out before sinking two of his fingers into your depths, thumb circling your clit. You knew his fingers were long, and you had even fantasized about this exact moment, but nothing could prepare you for his actual length. He had said he did research but that was proven by how quickly he found your g spot and clit. You doubled over in pleasure as his fingers thoroughly fucked you out.

"Spencer, I'm so close, baby. Be a good boy and make me cum." You said, slumping against his shoulder, rubbing yourself against his hand. "Mommy, I'm cumming." He said, looking into your eyes as his body shuttered. His words ricochetted around in your brain, sending you over the edge as you cum all down his hand. You bit into his shoulder to muffle your scream, just as he matched you, cumming down your hand.

You came down from your high as Spencer nearly collapsed onto you. You took extra care in making sure he was all clean before helping him out of the shower and into a towel. He leaned against you the whole time as you got him ready for bed. You forced him to brush his teeth before dragging him to bed.

He sat at the edge, eyes bleary with sleep, taking in the events of the day. You sat behind him, gently toweling off his hair before brushing it and putting lotion on his body. He leaned into your touch, appreciating being cared for, feeling as if everything had been a dream. "C-Can I sleep here? I mean Morgan locked me out and I don't have pants and-" You cut him off with a gentle kiss."Of course, sweetheart, do you want to cuddle? It's ok if you don't or if you want this to be a one-time thing, it's all up to you, baby." You said, gently sweeping his hair out of his face as he looked up with eyes the size of dinner plates. "We can do this more than once? You'll let me? For real?" He asked. "Only if you want to sweetheart. This is all about you." You said, giving him a small smile tinged with a slight sadness. "That's not very fair, I want it to be about you too. What do you want?"

The question knocked you off guard. You're not used to people asking what you want. Usually, people just take and give none in return. The fact that Spencer Reid, your adorable virgin coworker was asking you what you wanted with such a sincere look, caused tears to prick into your eyes. "No one has asked me that in a long time," you smiled, "I would love to do this, and more again with you Spencer. Whenever you want." He wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you down so you were lying next to each other on the bed. "Whenever we want" He corrected, cuddling into you.

You surveyed the bite make you left on his shoulder, running your hand over it. "Sorry for marking you up, I didn't mean to hurt you." You said softly as he blushed. "I-I was actually wondering... well... could you maybe give me a hickey? I like that you marked me." He said. You obliged him, giving him long kisses and sucks, gradually working up your force until a large purple bruise had formed on his collar bone. He was gently moaning the whole time, but you didn't want to work him up again as he had already cum twice that night and you didn't think he could handle more. He looked down at it as you pulled away, and you could see a question lingering on his mind.

"What's up?" you asked, smoothing his hair with your hand. "You said you hadn't been asked what you want in a long time, and I was wondering, well... who gave you your piercings?" he asked tentatively and you laughed." You have been reading my book too much, how many chapters have you read?" You said and he looked up at you surprised."You knew? and... well... only 3 chapters. I didn't want to pry into your private life." He said. "You just pried enough to know I want to get pierced by someone?" You asked raising an eyebrow. Before he could get an excuse out, you cut him off. "Well for a genius, you obviously didn't read it that carefully. I said I WOULD like to be pierced during sex, meaning I have not before. These are just standard piercings from a piercing shop, not a big deal, I just like the way they look." You said and he let out a sigh of relief. "Why? d'you get jealous?" you questioned him. He looked down and nodded shyly.

"I can be a lot of firsts for you but if you play your cards right, you can be a lot of firsts for me too. You already gave me a first tonight. You called me mommy. No one's done that before but it was really hot. I liked it a lot." You said matter of factly. "But that is a conversation for another day. It is 2 am and we need to be on a flight at 7:30, so let's get some sleep." You said, turning off the lights and cuddling up close to him. In a matter of seconds, you both were asleep, tangled into each other's arms, both of you feeling, for once, safe and sound.

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

Chapter 1 Here / Chapter 2 Here / Chapter 3 Here

Well wasn't that a doozy. I had so much fun writing that and I think it paid off for sure. Shoot me a message if you want to be added to my beloved tag list, speaking of which.

@spencer-reids-slut @ya-triedit @reidstoychest @flipperpenguins @thatsonezesty13 @jbbarnes-loki @big-galaxy-chaos

#spencer reid smut #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid blurb #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid angst #criminal minds smut #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds #sub spencer #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid #sub!spencer #pervspence #pervespencer #perve spencer reid #perv spencer reid

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fatmclassic · 3 years ago

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Dance fever

So I’ve had a bit more time with this and it’s growing on me more and more. I was worried about Antonoff producing and thought we might have been in for another ‘Solar Power’ snoozefest but thankfully that is not the case.

I saw someone say this is an album made for lost women struggling with mental health and big decisions in their late 20′s and 30′s and that’s what I’ve felt since King was released and this album confirms that feeling.

I can see throwbacks to earlier albums, which makes sense as has been claimed that this album is poking a bit of fun at her more melodramatic days. Restraint seems to be a jab at all the critics who kept wanting her to reel it in and strip back, which she did in HAH, and now she’s done with that. For the most part.

The album feels very scattered to me. King seems more like a mid track then an opener, I think Choreomania fits better there. Having ‘Back in town’ and ‘Girls against God’ back to back seems an odd choice because these are both slow almost plodding songs and it feels like they are dragging everything down.

HAH seems to fit quite well where it is and I appreciate it a bit more now. The other 2 short tracks are good, but feel like teases. Prayer factory especially, feels like it’s about to get going and then it’s done.

A nice mix of the confessional/grounded lyrics and the more mythical, religious fantasy lyrics. She seems a lot more angry this time around. Some of the spoken word parts are a bit strange, but it’s not something I expect from her so maybe that’s why. But it works well on Cassandra, less so on choreomania. The lyric ‘I listen to music from 2006 and feel kind of sick’ stands out as a bit of a clunker. Replaces ‘green is so green’ from HAH as the worst FATM lyric imo.

The most ‘Florencey’ tracks are my favourites here, Daffodil, Cassandra, Dream girl evil and choreomania. Yeah it’s retreading old ground for the most part and they could have felt at home on any of the first 3 albums, but nobody does that huge belting sound better than her. And I was sorely missing it after HAH. I like how fucking seething she is in DGE.

The only song I’m really not liking still, and probably never will, is Back in town. I may just remove this dud from my playlist. I rag on Caught and Between two lungs but this is worse tbh. There just isn’t much going on here. Might be the first FATM song I actually hate.

Girls against god is reminding me of solar power the more I listen and that’s not a good thing. This is the most ‘Antonoff’ song imo and I can picture Lorde singing this on that fucking beach she’s always on these days. And the laughing is a bit weird

The bomb has grown on me a little bit, sounds like something that could be on HBHBHB. Very light. This is like Breaking down or I’m not calling you a liar, in that it’s ok, but it’s never going to be a favourite. I feel bad not liking this more cos rob helped write it.

My love and free are the most commercial songs here. Catchy electropop. My love is the one I prefer, free feels a bit clunky lyric wise. And my love is more dancable musically. Plus it had the better video.

Morning elvis is one I didn’t feel to bothered with at first. But I got my headphones and appreciate it more now. The choir vocals in the background make this song for me. It’s quite a personal song again. Her speaking accent comes through in this song a few times. Another one that could fit on HBHBHB

Some of the production is bugging me. Like Choreomania seems like it should be much bigger then it ends up being, but feels a bit flat. Like the end with ‘somethings coming’ being repeated, that just doesn’t feel right. That is her ‘Hounds of love’ moment right there and it doesn’t quite get to the heights it should. And same with the bomb and morning elvis, she is getting drowned out by the music. It’s the same problem I had with 100 years on HAH.

I love the whole aesthetic so far, the self parody thing. Like florence saw all the ‘feral fae nymph goblin siren renaissance witchy forest’ FATM vibe posts and just gave us that. The free video seems a bit out of place though. A lot better then what HAH had, which wasn't much of anything, there didn’t seem to be as much of a running theme with that album.

Bit pissed off with the deluxe just being acoustics and a cover though. A scrapped song was mentioned in an interview, could that not have gone here? I did have a slight hope that with all the fanservice there seemed to be here that we’d finally get paper massacre but that was very optimistic I admit.

So even though I’ve been a bit less excited about this album for some reason, overall it’s pretty solid. I’m enjoying it and finding more things to like on each listen. It does leave me wanting more though, the short songs don’t help with that and neither does some of the shoddy production. She’s come so far as a songwriter and it shows, she has a lot more to say when compared to Lungs or Ceremonials. And she’s trying some new approaches, like with the spoken diary entries and interludes. There isn’t as many standout tracks here as on her first 3 albums, but I know I’ll be returning this a lot more than HAH. My opinions will probably change with time.

My album ranking so far:

Lungs>HBHBHB>Ceremonials>Dance Fever>HAH

Song list:

King-7/10 Free-6/10 Choreomania-8/10 (would be higher if produced better) Back in town-1/10 Girls against God-4/10 Dream Girl evil-9/10 Prayer factory-6/10(too short) Cassandra-10/10 Heaven is here-7/10 Restraint-5/10 (I like but not much here) Daffodil-8/10 My Love-7/10 The Bomb-6/10 Morning Elvis-7/10

#florence and the machine #fatm #dance fever #fatmclassic

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waumpel · 4 years ago

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ADHD STUDY TIPS

I have adhd. I'm taking all online classes this semester for college. Somehow, I'm not failing. Here's what I do that works for me!

1. I have an alarm that makes me do math every morning to turn it off, it's called Alarmy! 📚

2. It also plays a different loud sound every day from random-- I have several hundred(?) ringtones downloaded from Zedge, things like songs from shows I like or Pokemon cries or MBMBAM lines, and this helps me wake up to a different sound I'm bound to like which my brain can't get used to (and then ignore). I highly suggest godzilla roars if you need to be startled awake. 📚

3. This is SUPER HARD but I always try to force myself to sit up in bed when I'm turning off my alarm or checking my phone or whatever, so I'm not tempted to pass out again. I also like to get up and loudly tell my cats "good morning" so I wake us both up 📚

4. PLEASE STOP EATING CEREAL AND BAGELS AND STUFF. You would not BELIEVE the difference it makes when you eat things like fruits and eggs in the morning. NO MORE 10AM NAPS, I'M WATCHING YOU 📚

5. I literally schedule in Duolingo time. If you aren't learning a language you can do some other enriching activity like this, idk. I force myself to do it on my computer, not phone, so I can't lay down in bed when I'm doin it. I have a 101-day streak!! 📚

6. ik this isn't available to everyone but SPACE MATTERS SO MUCH!! I got a gaming desk that we put in our living room and I do ALL of my homework there. I also got a second monitor for my laptop with is SOOOO important if you're multitasking (and we all are, bc we're adhders ibdusvcjkn) 📚

7. HAND WRITE YOUR NOTES!!! I know this is super hard for many people-- I have carpal tunnel so I get it lmao. If you can't, at least type them. YOU THINK YOU CAN MEMORIZE INFO BUT YOU'RE WRONG!! Please write as much as you can i swear it will change ur life 📚

8. COLOURED! PENS!!! These changed the game for me y'all. I take all my notes in at least 2 colours, and I cycle through them a lot. My favs are Pilot Frixions because u can erase them :) (the highlighters are epic too) 📚

9. Make your space fun, but NOT DISTRACTING. I have a plant (his name is Yoshi) and a desk Godzilla (his name is Godzilla) on my desk, but they're out of the way so I can't zone out starin at em. But also, when I'm bored outta my gourd, I can smile at Yoshi and tell him how my day is goin :] 📚

10. SNACKING BAD *BUT*... sometimes i do it anyway... i try to associate certain foods with subjects, like I eat cocoa M&Ms (which are awesome) when I'm reading my Kaqchikel textbook. On the upside, I think it helps me recall Kaqchikel better? but also the language makes me crave mnms adkldigurvn 📚

11. LISTEN TO... CERTAIN MUSIC. I have learned that music with words, even in LANGS I DO NOT KNOW, is HELL for my adhd. Right now I'm listening to stuff like "Pokemon and Chill" (lofi album on YT), Studio Ghibli violin covers, and Night on Bald Mountain 5x on repeat ibjnvc.... I highly suggest songs/videos that are, like, 20+ minutes or else you'll get distracted with the constant change. Also, that No One's Around To Help 1hr vid is REALLY REPETITIVE and therefore PERFECT for when I'm reading textbooks. 📚

12. EVERY NIGHT... i make a super detailed timetable schedule for the next day, down to the half hour. I don't always follow it but it's a really good reminder of what I gotta do. I write it on a whiteboard but sometimes I also write it on a sticky note and on social media so I don't forget. To do lists are so epic you guys 📚

13. THIS HAS SAVED MY L I F E: at the beginning of the semester I looked at ALL of my syllabi and wrote down EVERY daily task, test, homework, etc BY DATE. this is essentially a premade to do list EVERY DAY for MONTHS and oh my gosh it is the best thing I have ever done. 📚

14. I use the Forest app to track my productivity AND lock me out of apps ndsjv... podomoro timers work well too!!! 📚

15. Ok so for me this is like... a religious thing bc my Patron (my God) is a deity of fire AND working, but I like to light a candle (scented like FALL!!) and do a little prayer on it and I have it next to me when I'm workin on terrible, terrible homework. It helps me feel like my Patron is here with me, but also it’s GREAT for grounding and I can just kinda. Stare blankly at the flame and then get back to tryin to focus. 📚

16. Please drink water lmao, to make sure I drink enough I set little goals like "take a sip after every paragraph you read" 📚

17. Each of my classes has a different coloured notebook which I'm consistent with! Like, all my German notebooks through the years have been green! Also I take notes w green pens a lot in Deutsch 📚

18. HELLA STICKY NOTES... I put em on the bottom of my monitor, on a shelf by my desk, in my books as bookmarks (bad idea lol), on Yoshi. When I wanna go look up something random but I need to focus, I like to write it down on sticky notes to look at later. 📚

19. I'm the most annoying student ever. I like to do a bunch of assignments at once so I don't have to budget my time later, so I'll turn in like 5 things in an hour and then NOTHING for a week. ALSO i email my teachers constantly if I have any questions at all. I work at a pace that works for me!!! 📚

20. I turn off my sound on my phone until I'm done with work bc otherwise I WILL open that notification 📚

22. I make a loooot of chai (and also some overpriced herbal teas). It makes me feel fancy, it's better for me than coffee, and it helps me ground and focus! Plus it's a samefood! 📚

23. Hyperfixating on classic literature would be awesome, except I'm hyperfixating on Gothic and I'm taking a lit class for More Than Just Gothic. But I'm figuring out ways to connect them, which is really helpful, cause I get to enjoy my hyperfixation while learning for school! PLZ TRY TO DO THIS (harder when you're hyperfixating on godzilla :pensivecowboy:) 📚

21. When I have extra time I write my notes like I'm plannin to put em on Tumblr and taggin em as #darkacademia... I never post my notes, but when they look nice it's easier for me to look over em later. Plus it takes me longer to write so I remember it a lil better!! 📚

24. I'm in an awesome academia + studyspo server!! We sometimes study together on call and it's SUCH a good motivator! Here's an invite link if u wanna join, we are nice https://discord.gg/fjuX7TN (this wasn’t meant to be a promo post I just really like this group lol) 📚

OK I hope that helps!!! Feel free to add more if you have any tips that work for you :) Neurotypicals, feel free to RB respectfully!

(pics are: syllabus list, daily schedule, Yoshi the plant, and some fancy notes)

#studyspo #studying #studyblr #study breaks #study tips #study motivation #adhd #adhd study tips #adhd studyblr #long post #dark acadamia aesthetic #light academia #dark academia #grey academia #chaotic academia #actually neurodiverse #actuallynd #academia

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romanceboys · 4 years ago

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(interview) w korea september issue 2020 — reptile

1. i was surprised to learn that this is your 13th year since debut. within a company, the years almost reflect the experience of a vice department head. that’s right. though there are things i’m seeing for the first time at this point, i think there’s a lot that has remained the same. shall i tell you something funny? early in the year, i transformed into my debut appearance from when i was 16 with a bowl haircut and had my picture taken. i put it up on instagram and as i watched my fans briefly mistake it for an old picture, i thought to myself ‘well at least my face hasn’t aged much yet.’ haha. 2. today, i get to meet one of the personalities i’ve been very curious about personally. how should i put it, you seem like a person who possesses a perfect narrative. oh my, thank you. 3. maturing steadily after debuting with shinee in middle school, you broke away from your image as the group’s youngest and instead donned the clothes of a solo musician. all 5 of your solo albums have been recorded as hits. now you are a member of superm that has gone global. even a narrative within a coming-of-age novel could not be as sturdy as this. when i look back on my life, i find it quite fascinating. i entered the company at the age of 13, and this year i turned 28. i’ve lived half of my life as a singer, i realise this when i think ‘i’ve run along the same path for a long time’. i think... i’ve been very greedy. it was through this greed that i was able to debut in a team called shinee, and consequently receive solo plans. once, producer lee sooman told me to bring him a recording of any pop song. wondering ‘what’s going on?’ i prepared for it and submitted, and soon after my solo album was released. thinking back, it must’ve been a test. i felt a sense of accomplishment in these things. that too very deeply, of course luck was on my side too. 4. a methodical company like sm couldn’t have proposed a solo career so lightly. there were a couple of tell-tale signs as far as i could tell. my singing parts were little during debut. after all taemin had the image of the one in charge of dancing. then my parts started to increase gradually, this could’ve been one of the signs. back in the day i used to stay back in the practice room till dawn. the employees working late would see me and the word probably went around. they must have felt sorry for me. a skinny boy practising by himself till dawn (laughs). 5. were you the type to stay back later than the rest in the practice room? i would go to the practice room as soon as we wrapped up our schedule. i’d practice till sunrise then return to the dorm and prepare for the next schedule immediately, i spent a long time doing this. 6. it was at the time of ‘sherlock’ in 2012 that your stage presence started to shine in shinee’s stages. thereafter, it seemed that you enjoyed your time on stage thoroughly. when did you begin to realise that only you were in command of your own stage? there were a couple of times... sherlock was one of them. sherlock was an album that came out when i was 20, right after becoming an adult, it was then my attitude towards performance changed. in those days i challenged myself to ‘not to do what was expected/fixed.’ usually our gestures at certain sections of the song are fixed beforehand, from sherlock onwards however i tried my hand at different things without reserve. it was my way of approaching the audience with sincerity, and my way of improving in the future. back then i would notice variations (in my performance) everyday when i monitored myself. 7. frankly, isn’t it difficult for someone to have made such a prominent leap? i think it might have been because of the long hiatus before sherlock. i was able to prepare well so my growth was likely more obvious when i stood on stage after a long time. how should i put it, my members were very stimulating for me. since the hyungs aren’t ordinary people (laughs). this is something i’m confident about, even if you say that most of the shinee members are main vocalists, none of us is inferior to the other, everyone is so talented. with these thoughts verbatim ‘i must survive in here,’ ‘i need to finish what i started,’ i practiced. i couldn’t not have made the leap with such stimulation and not to mention my greedy nature (laughs). spending time together with the members made me realise that we started to resemble each other in some aspects, thanks to them i was able to broaden my perspective and become aware of my undiscovered talents. 8. the prologue single ‘2 kids’ of your third album ‘never gonna dance again’ released in august. as i was listening to the song, i suddenly became curious about the lyricist and looked them up. my impression was that the language of the lyrics was raw and honest. the lyricist turned out to be you. my intention was to include everyday, colloquial speech. i’ve written poetic and abstract lyrics before, but while working on ‘2 kids’ i wanted the listeners to easily grasp the emotions at once. since i’ve released many songs like ‘danger’ with vivid concepts and sensual performances, i expected there to be some distance between me and the public. i found that i shouldn’t stray too far. in any case, i’m a pop singer. i thought to myself let’s meet the public halfway, and the result was the lyrics for ‘2 kids.’ it’s the brightest of all my title tracks (laughs). 9. i find two interesting points here. first, you are completely aware of your identity as a pop singer, second, to do that you work hard to keep close to the public. of course there are times when it doesn’t work out (laughs). for instance, when we’re deciding on the title track for a shinee album, my opinions always diverge from the members’. after listening to our fourth album title track ‘view,’ i said ‘no way, it can never be this!’ (laughs). what i’m after is, how shall i put it... there is a side to me that wants to experience things profoundly. for example, if i were to express love, instead of depicting it one-dimensionally, i’d prefer to do it maniacally. i like taking it one step further to appear twisted. 10. that’s amusing. it’s probably because i’ve seen your easy-going appearance on tv a lot, i would have never guessed for you to approach things ‘deeply’. profound people tend to be like that. ‘multi’ people are able to do several things at once, i can’t do that. i have to dig into things deeply at a time. that’s why when my members and i receive the same schedule notice, i’m the only one who always forgets it (laughs). 11. oho, this makes me curious about your taste in pop culture. i really like the british drama <black mirror>. i get hooked on the unusual. like mind-boggling things? i used to watch movies that weren’t popular because such movies are less likely to repeat contents that have already been consumed. but then i slowly began to enjoy light films as well. these days i leave a movie running in the background while i do other things. back when i would look for an independent film or thriller of my liking, i’d get extremely exhausted after watching it. they require so much focus that they sap my energy. 12. we were talking about lyrics but somehow ended up here (laughs). if you were given the opportunity to write lyrics again, what kind of story do you want the lyrics to convey? i like philosophical lyrics. for instance, a song called ‘soldier’ from my solo album deals with religious content, it varies from time to time of course but well if i were to write again... i think about this a lot these days. i want to change myself, i want to shake off my image uptil now and be reborn again. 13. why is that? i want a colour that is more concentrated and unique. as if i'm debuting again, i want to show something completely new that i had not before. 14. but aren’t your comebacks always novel? a musician like you who does diverse and experimental concepts is rare. is that so? sure the concepts are always new but... these days i think about how i want to change myself as a person from the very inside. instead of putting a facade on display, i have a thirst for wanting to show a more humane, genuine appearance. all humans experience moments of weakness and dysfunction. i think these moments definitely hold some beauty in them. the moment a person breaks down. it’s the only way one can get up and overcome difficulties again, i believe showing these sides of me, all of me, unabashedly is a path i need to walk as an artist now. 15. honestly, i’m excited for your third album because i heard this album reflects your ideas the most. what aspects of the production were different this time? firstly, i personally cast and liaised with the music video director. i thought it was important to work with the director one-on-one by keeping mediators to a minimum. through several meetings we mulled over every single thing like concept, outfit, hair and makeup. i offered my opinions too: ‘because i’m thinking of leaving a connecting link in the prologue, since there are two albums that would release following ‘2 kids,’ i want to drop certain keywords in the music video.’ fans usually call this a ‘bait’ (laughs). 16. the choreography stood out the most in the ‘2 kids’ music video. you weren’t simply moving to the rhythm, rather weren’t you moving your body guided by emotions? actually there were barely any plans to include dancing scenes. but i thought you never know so i quickly prepared a choreography the day before i left for paris. initially, i had a ‘dramatised’ (borrowing elements from drama) choreography in mind, but the director was expecting something modern. in the end, we expressed it well with a choreography that the director and i came up with after finding the perfect common ground. 17. personally i think a dramatised choreography would have been quite alright because ‘2 kids’ is a universal love song. i told the director i wanted to look miserable and pathetic through and through, like falling into a bottomless pit, wrecked, to be found waking up in the middle of the street, that would do too. why did i want to be that wrecked? i don’t know. there’s just a lot that exists within me. and i might have wanted to express that.... 18. with your first solo mini album <ace> you proved your grit as a solo musician to the public, and i believe your second album <move> reified your colour. i think taemin is a musician who doesn’t need to prove himself anymore. having reached this status, you’re releasing your next album <never gonna dance again>. did you ever think that this album could be it? rather, i hope that this album can be my ‘turning point.’ just as how it was during sherlock, i hope this time it changes my identity completely, as an individual and as a performer. people might like this album or find it mediocre, but i try not to care about these things now. 19. were you the type to stress over feedback? yes. because there are many people who are uncomfortable with change. but then i realised we’d never be able to free ourselves from within if we continued to be tied down. so now i’m trying to notice these things less. 20. have you ever had this thought? that looking back, the experimental has always revolved around you. as i said before, i think there is a lot of something within me (laughs). people have recognized that, there’s a lot i want to do. there is a greed for wanting to be different from others. it’s not that i want to ‘appear’ different but truly be different. 21. do you think there is an aspect of you that others can’t follow? i can’t seem to figure it out. i’m looking for it. however, my satisfaction level with myself tends to be low. and it’s something that has been guiding me till now. 22. what helps you recharge the most? i like lower-body bathing so much (laughs). as soon as i get into the bath, i automatically end up going ‘euu’ ‘aah.’ i soak my body completely, light up a scented candle, then let my body warm up like this. 23. while watching your vlog-like youtube content taem-log, i wondered ‘does he have an affinity for household goods?’ since the camera often captured your surroundings, i noticed pretty glasses and a colourful coffee machine adorning your cupboard. not at all. my mother did all of that (laughs). she’d say ‘this would suit taemin~’ then set it up prettily for display on the shelves. sometimes i do think i’d like to furnish my house with antiques if i were to move in the future. this is a bit funny but i find the houses in old horror movies so pretty. 24. i saw a bottle of moët & chandon in your refrigerator, is champagne your regular choice of alcohol? i rarely drink. i usually receive gifted alcohol quite a lot, it all goes to my father (laughs). my mother brought the moët & chandon and left it in there. i asked her to leave a pretty bottle in there at least for decoration purposes, so she probably brought it just for that? (laughs). 25. what kind of a person is 28-year-old taemin? i sort of want to set things ablaze. i want to put up a spectacular finale of the opening act. 26. how do you want to be remembered as a musician? as a great person. i say this knowing it sounds a bit grandiose but it’s my mission. 27. i can see it. the bigger you become the larger the impact you can have on society. i will become that person. so that many people can hear the message i want to convey.

translated by romanceboys — take out with full credit (source)

#shinee #taemin #p:taemin #w korea magazine september issue 2020 #interview #translations #e:never gonna dance again #enjoy!

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chiseler · 4 years ago

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Hero of Our Nation

I first encountered Roger Ramjet on a Chicago public access station in 1983. It was part of an early morning show apparently aimed at stoner insomniacs. The show came on at five and also included episodes of Lancelot Link, Secret Chimp, that awful Beatles cartoon, and a weather report clarified by some appropriate pop song (“Here Comes the Sun” or “Here Comes the Rain Again”). I was usually up and around that early for some godforsaken reason, and originally started watching on account of Lancelot Link. Always did love that Lancelot Link. But Roger Ramjet was, well, let’s just say it was a revelation.

Roger Ramjet, “ that All-American good guy and devil may care flying fool” (as he compulsively introduces himself) was a none too bright and none too coordinated drug-dependent space age superhero in an ongoing battle against the assorted forces of evil (or more specifically, N.A.S.T.Y.) to preserve the American Way of Life. He was square-jawed, straight-laced, straight-faced, and True Blue if little else, so hyper-patriotic that nearly every time his name is spoken aloud an American flag, a bald eagle, or a rotating ring of stars appears on the screen. After catching one or two episodes, I forgot all about Lancelot Link.

The show was easy to overlook, especially when squeezed between the Beatles and some secret agent chimps with a psychedelic band. The episodes were only five minutes long (maybe seven with the abrasive theme song filling out the opening and closing credits), and were so crudely drawn and animated it might at a glance seem like something a couple of junior high school kids threw together in their basement one weekend. The shows were so primitive they hardly bothered with niceties like “backgrounds” satisfied instead to settle for rudimentary suggestions of a setting. But the writing was so sharp and the voice talent so good what it really felt like, if you paid attention, was a spoof of a ‘40s radio serial like Sky King or Gangbusters, complete with a soap opera organ and illustrated by a handful of jerky drawings scratched out by someone’s kid. People who thought Jay Ward’s Bullwinkle and Dudley Do-Right were crude when compared with the output from Disney or Warner Brothers had no idea what “crude” meant.

Looking at it today what it reminds me of more than anything are the paper cutout animations of the earliest episodes of South Park, before they upgraded to Flash. Along with the lo-fi stylistics, the humor was clearly aimed at an adult audience while pretending otherwise. You may not find any child molestation jokes or crass religious cracks in Roger Ramjet, but for 1965 the lightning-fast humor was pretty hepcat and sophisticated, with undisguised satirical references to the Cold War, Central American turmoil, and the Vietnam War (“Hey kids, this is Roger Ramjet,” demanding that you stay tuned to this station to see my next adventure,” Roger announces in his commanding superhero baritone. “Or I’ll see to it that all you little rascals are drafted.”) . Mixed in with the topical jokes we also get some highly unlikely name drops, from Noel Coward and Henry Cabot Lodge to James Joyce and bawdy nightclub performer Rusty Warren, as well as film parodies and literary nods to the likes of Catch-22 and Catcher in the Rye. It’s also a little less than what you might call racially sensitive by modern standards (consider Mexican revolutionaries The Enchilada Brothers, Beef and Chicken).

While a lot of the more timely jokes might be lost in the murk of the over 50 years since it first aired, there’s plenty of rapid-fire absurdity that’s timeless, from the misspelled title cards punctuating the narration to the self-consciously dumb coked-up adventures.

Bullwinkle aired from ‘61 to ‘64. Roger Ramjet came along a year later and Jay Ward’s influence is undeniable. The difference was Roger Ramjet crammed the equivalent number of bad jokes, references, and plot twists of a typical 8-part Bullwinkle serial into each five-minute episode, both mirroring the rapid-fire screwball dialogue of the ‘30s and the frenetic quick-cut comedy to come along a year or two later in shows like The Monkees and Laugh-In.

The episodes were produced with essentially no budget and were cranked out very quickly by a small team of writers, voiceover artists and animators with solid day jobs in radio and TV. They were all seasoned pros, some dating back to the days of classic radio, who worked on the show after hours as a way of letting off a little steam and tossing around a few cynical, subversive cultural jabs their day jobs wouldn’t allow. The show was created originally by animator Fred Crippen (who went on to work on some pretty dreadful crap like the Extreme Ghostbusters and Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles) and Ken Snyder, an ad exec who moved over into producing cartoons. They brought in a remarkable team of voice talent and comedy writers, including Gene Moss (the voice of Smokey the Bear) Jim Thurmam (who did a lot of kids shows including Sesame Street), Dick Beals (the original voice of Gumby), and the great Gary Owens, a drive-time deejay in LA who would get national recognition soon enough as the on-screen announcer for Laugh-In. Although they would all get specific credits in the end (Crippen as director, Moss as a writer) it was a communal effort, in which everyone contributed to the writing, and everyone, even the executive producer, did a few of the voices. Apart from the regular crew, careful listeners might also catch a few uncredited guest appearances by some surprisingly big names (I’m told Sinatra and Dean Martin appear in an episode, but I’m still looking for that one). Owens was the star, though, as his ability to read the most ridiculous lines in a dramatic deadpan made him the perfect Roger Ramjet. Together they made 156 episodes (about 150 still exist), which were sold directly into syndication in ‘65 as half hour shows, each containing three unconnected adventures. I can’t say as I’m exactly sure who they thought their target audience was at the time, except maybe each other.

Much like William Conrad in Bullwinkle, each show opened with our narrator, Steve Allen alum Dave Ketchum, setting the mood and the scene (“In today’s depressing episode,” he’d begin with dramatic enthusiasm, or maybe it was an “existentialist episode,” “phlegmatic episode,” “rickety episode,” “hairy episode,” or “ethnic episode”). Then we’re out of the gate at a breakneck pace, with a flurry of gags coming from every direction. “Ramjet rode into Boot Hill,” we’re told, “where the men were men and the women were men, which can get pretty old after awhile.”

While none of the shows are connected, there are a few recurring characters and locations worth remembering: Roger hails from Lompoc, an actual California town (“where nothing ever happens, and seldom does”) and takes his orders from General G.I. Brassbottom, a no nonsense military man who “hadn’t had an original idea since he was a civilian.” He’s also assisted by Yank, Doodle, Dan, and Dee, the unusually chubby kids who make up the American Eagle squadron. Like Roger, all the members of the squadron wear their white jumpsuits and flight helmets at all times (Roger even wears his helmet on dates), and in true superhero sidekick fashion, their primary job is to get Roger out of scrapes and make sure his drugs are handy.

That’s one little detail more than a few casual viewers have taken umbrage with. Roger, see, is a pretty hapless character most of the time, but he repeatedly saves the world thanks to a little help from his Proton Energy Pills (PEP), which take five seconds to kick in, then give him the strength of 20 A-Bombs for 20 seconds. Modern viewers seem a little uncomfortable with the idea of a superhero gulping amphetamines in order to function, but all I can say is, well, it was a different time, and hey, it worked for Roger and Elvis both.

The proton energy pills come in handy when dealing with his arch-nemesis Noodles Romanoff, the short, trench coat and fedora wearing head of N.A.S.T.Y. (the National Association of Spies, Traitors, and Yahoos). Romanoff may not have a Natasha, but he does have a gang of cronies and thugs who all mumble in unison (save for one, who can’t seem to get the rhythm).

Along with Romanoff and his gang, Roger also has to contend with some lanky alien robots, the Solenoids (voiced by executive priducer Ken Snyder), and their repeated efforts to invade the planet in assorted ridiculous ways (in one episode, they begin kidnapping all the Miss America contestants, who “were disappearing faster than co-eds at a Dartmouth weekend.”)

When not saving the world, Roger found himself competing with the smarmy hotshot test pilot Lance Crossfire (who sounds an awful lot like burt Lancaster) for the affections of Lotta Love, the fickle Southern belle with a taste for the finer things in life.

Then there are the adventures themselves. Some seem standard superhero fare, but only to a point. Earth is besieged by flying saucer attacks (sort of). Roger’s hometown is terrorized by a werewolf (sort of). Roger plays tennis with a kangaroo, or becomes the first man to surf in space, or, in a personal favorite, attempts to stop the flow of bootleg comic books into America’s drug stores.

Actually, there’s an interesting moment in that one that revealed just how subtle you could be even with animation this unsophisticated. Okay, so Noodles Romanoff, see, is replacing real comics in drug store racks with bootlegs in which popular superheroes are humiliated, all in an effort to destroy the morale of America’s children. After Brassbottom shows Roger a few examples (the issues include “Superman Gets Beat Up by a Chicken!” and “Ratman Stubs His Toe!”) he explains that if this sort of thing continues, “America’s kids won’t have anyone to look up to except YOU, Ramjet.” Then, for just an instant in that crude and jerky style, Roger cuts his eyes toward the camera, revealing in that moment everything we needed to know, namely that it’s what he’s always wanted.

Thirty years on and that still sticks with me.

In the end, though, the characters and storylines are secondary at best In Roger Ramjet. At heart it’s a matter of trying to keep up with all the lightning-quick jokes and wordplay, the non-sequiturs and references. In the five minute span of one cowboy-themed episode I counted nods to at least seven classic Western films, from High Noon to She Wore a Yellow Ribbon, and I suspect I missed a few. It really is such a dizzying blur of dialogue and bad puns and cultural references, sometimes, christ, even just references to old jokes that take the form of bad puns (“Waiter, there’s a spy in my soup” or “how many angels can swim in the head of a beer?”), that absurd as it all is, repeated viewings are a necessity to catch everything. It’s a bit like having the complete contents of an issue of MAD magazine jammed onto a single page. It can make your head hurt after a while, but it’s worth it. Whether the density and the pace make it better or worse for stoner viewing is something, I guess, each stoner will need to answer for him or herself. Lots of bright colors, though.

In 1965 there was nothing new about making cartoons with adult sensibilities in mind. Betty Boop and Bugs Bunny were made to be shown as short subjects to largely adult audiences. Jay Ward’s cartoons a few decades down the line were near-revolutionary for smuggling hip, subversive political humor into what had become an exclusively child-friendly format. What made Roger Ramjet so radical was it’s blend of ‘30s radio style with mid-’60s cynicism, as well as its foreshadowing of our shrinking attention spans, a hyper-condensed proton pill of comedy and commentary disguised as just another dumb, low-rent superhero cartoon. Although it’s barely remembered today, its influence is still evident in most any subversive animated show you can name, even if they’ve slowed things down a bit.

by Jim Knipfel

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rataltouille · 4 years ago

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BONFIRE, BONFIRE!: A COLLECTION OF FLASH FICTION + POETRY

so i’ve decided to compile all twenty [these will be split into two so that the post isn’t super long] of the writing pieces i’ve done for my random celebration into one post so that it’s easier to read / access share!! you can also find it here, all put into one work, on wattpad, because i feel nostalgic about that website and decided to just post it!!

NOTE: i know that this shouldn't need to be said, but these 20 pieces belong to me so please don’t copy/repurpose it for your writing!! i plan on using these somewhere in my own writing and either way they’re stuff i’ve written so don’t use them!!

1. cooking + destructive + purple from @andiwriteunderthemoon [also i kind of cheated with this prompt and asked my sis @dreamscanbenightmarestoo for ideas and so the base idea’s from her!!]

I didn’t mean to set my house on fire, alright?

Let me set the scene: I’m sitting in my room, watching the infomercials that blur together, and suddenly there’s a bright purple flash on the glitching screen: /grapes/. They’re shiny, plump, and oh? A recipe for fine wine? Don’t mind if I do. So I pop into my kitchen and cut the grapes, dice them up, finally using the knife after years of not cooking— /mother, are you proud of me now?/— and stick the soft, luminescent fluid into a glass bottle. Following each step of the recipe.

The recipe didn’t mention an explosion.

Destruction rained around my house like a meteor shower. The bubbles from the fluid, frisking up at contact with metal, swam across my shoes and into the living room. It touched the TV, which still flashed the recipe, which I was still cursing at. And then, you know, it burnt up. The couch scorched first, I think. So that was fun. I later realised that I’d used my reserve of petroleum, which I’d put in my kitchen cabinet, instead of vinegar. I think I’ve got to move back in with my mother again.

2. running + quiet + sky blue from @kryskakikomi [i have no idea what this is i drafted this in a fever dream state]

Summer crawled up his skin like a worm. He was seated at his dining table, crosswording his way through the sticky morning, when it struck him that the humidity was new. He’d been caught in summer before, of course, but this year was different. His parents had whisked away to their hometown, and he still didn’t understand why he wasn’t allowed to go. He loved their home— he could have been running on beach sand and waves could have cruised over his feet, and his face would reflect sky blue under palm trees. Instead he sat doodling and scratching at cement walls in a quiet that nagged at his ears, grappling his flesh like a fishing hook, reeling him in. Boredom, him sister told him, before she also left for someone’s home. What would you know? he whispered once the door latched from the outside. Maybe /she’d/ like to sit on the same wooden chair, all the pink paint worn out, and scratch out squares of empty text until the pen poked through the other hand. He scoffed. At least he knew the number of scars on the wood; he could hold that over her when his parents returned.

3. hallucinate + hazy + violet from @chloeswords [i wanted to write something dreamy and ethereal but everytime i look at your url i’m reminded of church mud and indirectly my religious trauma so here we are 🤡]

We hold the book in our arms and chant for God. We don’t know what he looks like. They say that he’s sharp, never pixelating or blurring or showing through, like a hazy image would. No, children, our family says, he will come clothed in gold and velvet— the colour a deep and rich crimson, or chartreuse. And of course, he weaves a violet into his hair. Because he is just that humble. Just that gentle. Loving.

We’ve almost understood now. Pray, clasp our palms together into a transient equinox, and pray. Maybe he will shine down on us. Maybe we will speak so loud and chant so long that our lips will chap. Maybe we’ll simply hallucinate him to salve our bones. Our family says, he will bless you. And so he will.

4. halcyon + pluviophile + beige from anon [i was yearning for cats i am a cat person i love cats]

I remember my life before I moved to London,

Those halcyon days that I spent scooping up cat litter and brushing warm fur,

Being a mother to beige and white and black little felines.

They keep better company than humans.

Now I’m a self-proclaimed businesswoman, artist, influencer, pluviophile,

Even when I’ve barely stepped foot outside during the rain,

[But it needs to be said that when it rains in London, it pours].

I think I’d like to open a cat cafe;

I’m rich enough to pull it off.

5. sing + vulnerable + olive green from @occiidens [this was actually super fun to write because it’s a break from the typically unhinged stories i gravitate towards]

You watch from the highest hill of your town, hand wrapped around the serrated wood of a red oak tree. The bark pokes into your flesh, drawing blood that shouldn’t have been taken from you. You scowl. Just another thing that lives to cause you pain.

Three storeys down is a young man, short and smiling and lovely. He has dark skin and darker hair, walking with the stride of a deer, and he’s smiling; the joy reflects onto your face, even though you can’t hear him. He wears a cotton shirt, the olive green stark against the fire-blue sky. You call out, sing his name, three times in a row.

When he finally looks up, squinting as you silhouette under the sun, the smile widens. A wave. You’re suddenly overcome with embarrassment. Your palm digs into the bark until the wound is freshly dug again, the skin supple and vulnerable. You want to wave, but your hands would look so awkward, and the blood wouldn't help. So you turn on your heel and run— why are you so awkward?— and the grass around you is brighter. This is now a tomorrow issue, you conclude. You’re still smiling.

6. dislocate + ostentatious + blood red from @oasis-of-you [this got really unhinged really fast. TW: body horror]

If you take a turn at Finn Avenue,

Rogue your way down a blood red river,

[It’s not actual blood, do not worry. The colour’s a pigment and it’s saturated enough to give you the texture, the touch, the taste of blood, but I repeat, it isn’t true blood. You might think that it’s ostentatious of us to make you cross a river like that, but you’ll understand why.]

And if can stick your fingers inside the fluid,

You’ll find a bone.

Don’t pull it out fully! Only observe.

[This is a real bone, most likely animal. We may be ominous, but we don’t hurt humans. Not yet.]

So what do you do now? You want passage into a better world.

You came here because you saw the brochure, the flyer,

Radiant Idyll, home for love, but you also saw the jutting anatomy that leads to the city. The pictures were rather clear.

Why do you look so surprised? We’ve put this on the brochure— don’t you ever read the fine print?— to avoid this exact situation. That you would cross a body, a skeleton, pooled over in a fluid that we don’t name, but it’s probably alive.

It’s watching you right now.

So what do you do now?

Hurry up, unhinge your arm, dislocate the elbow, drop it into the blood, forgive me, false blood, and pay for your passage.

Oh! Excellent; that’s record time. We do hope you enjoy your stay!

1. @noteaboy [i’ve interpreted your url as ”note, a boy”]

There’s an orange tree. It’s spring, and there’s an orange tree, and it brims with fruit and citrus perfume. Point your lens flare downwards, and note, a boy. A young man, perhaps, because he combs his hair, uptight and firm, and he wears a tie. A long suit. He doesn’t look up, because his hand holds a book. /He/ holds the book, not the hands— tenderness doesn’t translate through anatomy, I’ve taught you this before. He’s waiting for someone. There’s only the rustle of leaves. He drops the book onto the lap of the tree, crushing the apple that had fallen down. Orange, not apple. Take note better. You only have one chance to get this right.

2. @eatingjupiter [your url is so beautiful omg]

The goddess had said this before she died: you need to watch over him. He needs your sentry to survive. The goddess’ words weren’t heeded. Little baby Jupiter tottered on lava as him parents small-talked with their kingdom. Well, it must have been small talk, because nothing seemed to happen afterwards other than his mother’s face collapsing in agony, anger, annoyance. He knew not to touch them then. He’d fly off into the sun one day, but if his hands were but and charred, he wouldn’t survive even a third of the journey.

The prophecy was simple: the firstborn to the kingdom will metamorph into a celestial, purify themselves so that only stardust remains. Live in the sky forever. The astrologers were baffled; you don’t just become a star. They should have heeded the goddess.

Jupiter was sixteen when he expanded and collapsed all at once. He still lives, they say, and the astrologers /were/ right, in a way: people just don’t become stars. They become almost empty space. Nobody knows if his hands were burnt when they left earth’s orbit forever.

3. @laughtracksonata [your name gave me slight horror vibes idk why!!]

Hahaha. The Horror Movie (don’t ask me for a name, I’m not good with those), with its cymbal crashing and plastic sounds, it’s so loud and scary that it hurts, father. Please turn it off.

Father doesn't listen. I shiver on the couch. The screen flickers like radio static and reflects off our wide eyes. What kind of a home is this anyway? I don’t want to fucking listen to a laugh track or a horror VHS tape or watch the bass crescendo as the serial killer jumpscares the watcher. I don’t think that having hour pupils glued to the same blood-splattered movie, with the same recording looping in his eardrums will help him. He laughs along, sometimes. It’s scary. Father needs a new hobby.

PART TWO COMING SOON!!

anyway this got REALLY long so i’m posting the third prompt group, the one based on songs, as a second part in some time. i hope you enjoy this, and PLEASE do boost!! i spent a lot of time writing these pieces and am pretty proud of them :’)

general taglist: @lovingyou-is @guulabjamuns @andiwriteunderthemoon @coffeeandcalligraphy @melonmilk @silentlylostwriter @charles-joseph-writes @eklavvya @eowynandfaramir @bitterwitchwrites @laughtracksonata @whatwordsdidnttouch @indeliblewrites @thenataliawrites @summersguilt @illimani-gibberish @sarahkelsiwrites @writing-in-delirium @shaelinwrites @sienna-writes @chewingthescenery @jennawritesstories @chloeswords @aelenko @keira-is-writing @cherylinanika @infinitely-empty-pages @jmtwrites @august-iswriting @freedelusionbanana @beetleblue88 @mistercaleb @iwannawritepls @hanwatchingmovies @mortallynuttyqueen @idratherliveinnarnia @maisulli @thegreyboywrites @ahowlinwolf @ravens-and-rivers @oasis-of-you @yanittawrites @chazza-writes-sometimes @skyfirewrites @lovebenders @treybriggsthewriter @themidnxghtwriter @ash-karter @queen-devasena @a-procrastination-addict @gaymityblight @beyondthebracken @madmaxst26 @adielwrites @moonpixxel @hollow-knight-dnd @keep-looking-here @overlap @ashleygarciawrites @ryns-ramblings @wordsbynathan @novaemlynlewis @sophiewritingstuff @howdy-writes @occiidens @nsanelyawkward @viawrites-andacts

#writeblr #am writing #flash fiction #poetry #wtwcommunity #ofcolourtracking #crabappletracking #anyway part two probably in a couple days #i still have to start writing them 🤡✌️#bonfire bonfire

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noaltbruh · 4 years ago

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BUCCI GANG AND HOW THEY WOULD PLAY UNDERTALE

Since I got my friend into the UT fandom, and the brainrot for this game is slowly coming back, I've figured that I'd fuse my favourite franchises and make this post, enjoy!

GIORNO:

-This may surprise you, but Giorno would almost do a Blind Pacifist run

-While at first, he was planning on taking out whoever got in his way, he changed his mind in the moment he saw Toriel

-After she taught him how to resolve the various conflicts peacefully, he decided not to fight, but to show MERCY to every monster

-He finds the multiplicity of choices a very interesting mechanism, especially since he's not much of a gamer, and he's pleasantly surprised to see such an innovative game

-While most of the times he would completely avoid the FIGHT button, if a monster got on his nerves a little too much, he may attack it until it doesn't want to fight anymore

-He takes the time to interact with everything and everyone, he wants to enjoy the game at its fullest

-He was so freaking lucky to meet Gaster on his first run

-Actually brought the piece of snowman with him

-He's part of the "Chara defense squad", and finds them strangely...relatable

-He was just about to do a full Pacifist route, but he couldn't bring himself to SPARE Flowey, and killed him

-"I won't let you hurt her"

-Ultimately, he regretted it, and reset his save file

-After doing a TRUE Pacifist, he left the game, leaving the monsters alone and giving them an happy ending

-Only knows about the Genocide through gameplays

-Favourite character: Toriel, but also likes Chara quite a lot

-Favourite OST: Memories, followed by home, Undertale, Megalo strikes back and Star (he doesn't care if they actually don't play in the game)

-What SOUL would he have: DETERMINATION

BRUNO:

-My man wouldn't hurt a fly if he had the chance to, off to the Pacifist route he goes

-Similar to Giorno, he finds Toriel a very comforting character, but he feels bad for pretty much every monster he meets. He thinks it's unfair for them to be forced to stay in the UNDERGROUND, and wants to find a way to destroy the barrier at any cost

-He's never played a videogame before, but he gets the hand of it quite quickly, even though he still ends up dying a couple of times.

-He would also be the kind of player to interact with EVERYTHING, paying close attention to whatever the passing monster has to say

-Sometimes, he likes to take a break, lay down and listen to the OST of the place he's exploring

-The most challenging enemies for him were Undyne and Asgore. It took him a while to realize that the only way to spare her was to run away, and he just really didn't want to hurt Goat papa

-He lets the bird carrying him to the other side, even if he doesn't actually need to move around. He just wants the little guy to feel appreciated

-Veeeery reluctantly, he decided to SPARE Flowey, it would have been a waste to kill somebody now, after everything that he had done so far

-He almost cried at the Pacifist ending

-He refuses to even acknowledge what happened in the Genocide route

-Favourite characters: Toriel and Asgore

-Favourite OST: Fallen down, but he also likes Heartache, Home and Waterfall

-What SOUL would he have: KINDNESS

MISTA:

-Mista's first run would be a Neutral. It's not that he enjoys killing the monsters, he's mostly just too lazy to think of a way to spare them

-If it's obvious, however, he'll just casually show the enemy MERCY, there's no need to take out absolutely everyone

-The only one who he genuinely looked for a way to spare was Papyrus. Honestly, he couldn't bring himself to just hurt him 'cause he had the chance to. Besides...He was afraid of what Sans would have done

-Speaking of him, he finds his jokes HILARIOUS, and he will use them in real life conversations if he gets the chance to

-He basically wasted all his money fighting Undyne

-He didn't buy the spider donut in the RUINS, and was forced to farm gold for 3 entire freaking days and buy one directly from Muffet

-After finishing the neutral route, he decided to go back and try the others. His next route was a Genocide

-He was about to shoot his computer AND himself while fighting Sans, but he eventually managed to beat him. Of course, after swearing at 3 A. M., drinking 10 cans of Sprite, listening to Megalovania on loop and threatening to throw Narancia out of the window because he interrupted him while he was playing

-His favourite moment during the Pacifist was cooking with Undyne

-He immediately questioned his life choices when he finished the route and saw Chara taking over Frisk's body. Closed the game and never opened it again

-Favourite characters: Papyrus, Sans and Undyne. He refuses to choose an absolute favorite

-Favourite OSTs: Megalovania and Song that might play when you fight Sans. He also likes Bonetroulse and Spear of justice

-What SOUL would he have: BRAVERY

NARANCIA:

-Narancia playing this game would be a total mess. Ironic, considering he's the one in the gang that likes video games the most

-Despite Toriel's guidance, at first, he would FIGHT every monster that got in his way, following the simple "It's an rpg, the more I kill, the better it is" logic

-When he saw the "but nobody came" screen, however, he freaked the hell out and immediately reset

-After that mini heart attack, he went on a full Pacifist route. However, sometimes, he would snap and accidentally kill a monster. He lost count of how many times he had to reload the file

-He also really likes Toriel (she's just very popular among the Bucci gang). The reason for it...Is not a very happy one, like in Giorno's case

-He genuinely tried to stay with her, he didn't want to leave Goat mom

-He's the one who gets emotionally invested in the game the most, he even forgets it's a game at times and just erase the surrounding world from his head

-He LOVES to voice the characters while he plays, it makes the story feel way more alive for him. He makes a very good Papyrus impression

-Speaking of which, his favourite parts of the game were the interactions between Sans and Papyrus.

-He lost his s**t when he arrived at the Temmie village. He stayed there FOR HOURS farming money. Heck, he even bought the Temmie armor

-He refused to open the game for two days after Flowey stole the SOULS

-He wanted to ask someone to play the TRUE lab with him, but he refused to admit that he was scared

-While he's not the kind of player who stops by to read every dialogue, he makes an exception for Snowdin. He really likes that area of the game!

-While he would never admit it, he cried three times during the Pacifist route. The first time when he left Toriel, the second when he heard Chara and Asriel's story, and the third when he finished it

-His favourite fight in the game is the one against Asriel. He kept on repeating the "Don't you have anything better to do" dialogue for 20 minutes, before giving up to the idea that there was really no way to save him

-After giving the monster an happy ending, he was overwhelmed by his own curiosity, and decided to try the Genocide route...Boy did it go wrong

-You thought he cried a lot during the Pacifist? He became a freaking fountain during the Genocide. Every single time he killed a Boss, he cried, with no exception

-He spent days trying to defeat Sans, until he was given the option to SPARE him, and so he did

-...The others could hear him yelling from the other floor after what happened next

-He got tired of Sans' bulls**ts, reset and did a Pacifist again

-He watched a gameplay to know what happened in the Genocide ending. Chara's jumpscare still haunts him

-Narancia gets really involved in the stuff made by the fandom, especially fan made songs and comics

-He listens to "To the bone" religiously, it's part of his routine

-He tried and failed to figure out how AUs work

-Favourite character: Papyrus, followed by Toriel and Asriel. He used to like Sans a lot too...But now he gets Vietnam flashbacks every time he thinks about him

-Favourite OSTs: Bonetroulse, Hopes and dreams and Snowdin. He can't choose between them

-What SOUL would he have: INTEGRITY

FUGO:

-Fugo would categorically refuse to reset on his first run. What it's done, it's done, and he has to take responsibilities for his choices

-He would do a Neutral, killing whoever he encounters, but without specifically looking for the monsters just so that he can kill them

-That doesn't mean, however, that he dislikes to play with the timeline. It's quite the opposite, to be honest

-Fugo enjoys messing around with the save files A LITTLE too much, dude basically became an hacker playing this game

-In his attempt to make a Pacifist run, he fu**ed up and accidentally got the Hacker ending

-"...THIS IS NOT WHAT I MEANT WHEN I SAID I WANTED EVERY ENDING"

-He toned it down a little after that, but he still managed to modify the FUN value enough to meet Gaster and his followers

-He's also the only one who unlocked Sans' room. He doesn't trust him, but he finds him an interesting character

-Neither the Pacifist or Genocide endings particularly picked his interest, even though he did punch the walls a couple of times fighting Sans

-He likes to try the different Neutral endings, he doesn't do all of them, just the ones he thinks that would affect the monsters the most

-The only character he got attached to emotionally was Alphys, he can see himself a lot in her

-He's very interested in the various theories that surround this game, and he's waiting for Deltarune to come out, he just wants to know more about Gaster

-Favourite character: Alphys, but Gaster is a close second

-Favourite OST: Darker, darker, yet darker, followed by Here we are, Waterfall and Premonition

What SOUL would he have: faded BRAVERY

ABBACCHIO:

-MERCY? Is that a food? Yeah uhm...No, that doesn't exist with Abbacchio, nothing but Genocide for him

-It's already a surprise someone convinced him to play this game. He'll play in his own way, and that means killing literally everyone, not simply the ones he encounters, but even looking for them just to earn more Exp

-He was...Weirdly satisfied when he saw the "But nobody came" screen, and he was lucky enough to find every monster almost immediately

-He hadn't found a single character that he liked until he reached Undyne. Her sense of justice reminded him of his old self, which wasn't exactly pleasant at first, but at least he felt something

-He was finally happy to see a monster actually trying to stop what he was doing, and killing her was the only thing in the game that made him slightly sad

-He's still offended for not having the chance to kill monster kid, he couldn't stand that child

-He skipped through pretty much every dialogue in the game, not that there are many people to interact with during the Genocide...

-He'd eat a piece of the snowman right in front of him just to spite him, then take the rest and leave

-He didn't care about whatever Flowey was trying to tell him about his past. That's also because without knowing he's Asriel, most of what he says doesn't really make sense

-In the moment Sans dodged his attack, he realized that he had screwed up REALLY bad. After dying against him a couple of times, he considered resetting, but he wouldn't have let "the lazy skelefu**" have it his way

-He let out a huge "YES" and a sigh of relief when he finally managed to hit him, it took him around a week

-However, little did he know, that the worst still had to come. When he noticed that he wasn't the one who had just killed Asgore and Flowey, he freaked out a little, and Chara staring directly at him made him feel a small shiver down his spine

-Still, he decided to decline their offer to destroy everything, not because he regretted what he had done, he just wanted his revenge on the child for scaring him

-He closed the game after the jumpscare, and never questioned what the hell he had been through

-Favourite character: Undyne

-Favourite OSTs: But nobody came and Battle against a true hero, he also likes The fallen child

-What SOUL would he have: very very faded JUSTICE

TRISH:

-Trish got into this game just because of its music, she kept on hearing it everywhere and wanted to understand where it came from

-She was kinda scared at first, videogames aren't exactly her forte, and her encounter with Flowey didn't help

-She slowly got used to the dynamics of the game, even though she died at least three times in every area, exept for the RUINS. (She only got a game over two times there)

-She doesn't have the heart to hurt anybody, she thinks the monsters (well...Most of them, at least) are adorable! Shyren is her favourite minor enemy, and when she saw the "Taking piano lessons again" text, her heart melted a little

-She refused to take off the faded ribbon until she found she tutu, but she never sold either of them

-She loves flirting with literally ANYONE. You can? Well then...You must!

-Her favourite area is Hotland, including the Core too. She loves the whole "artificial" theme of the place, and she had a lot of fun reading Alphys's posts!

-She would pretend to be an actual part of Mettaton's programmes, but only when she was 100% sure nobody could hear her

-Needless to say, the boss fight against him was one of the funniest parts of the story for her

-Another thing she absolutely adored were the dates with Papyrus and Alphys, especially the latter. After everything that had happened, it was a nice opportunity to relax for a bit

-Similar to Narancia, Trish gets really involved emotionally in playing the game, and she had to take a little break from it before facing Asgore

-The ending genuinely made her cry, but it was the only time she shed a tear through it

-She doesn't care about trying the Genocide, she's worked hard to give the monsters an happy ending, and she wasn't going to throw it away

-She's in love with the Undertale Musical by Man on the Internet, she knows pretty much every song by memory

-Favourite character: Mettaton, but she honestly really likes all of them

-Favourite OST: Death by glamour, followed by Metal crusher, Power of NEO, and Another medium

-What SOUL would she have: INTEGRITY

Yes, I know that Narancia's part is longer, but it's just so funny to write about this baby, bear with me please 😌

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