#knees weak throat thick chills all over shakes and shivers. maybe I am sick | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sicjimin · 3 years

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A.N : Ahah another Jikook words vomit from me 😅 I hope you like this ~ and sorry for any grammatical mistakes

TW: emeto, graphic descriptions of vomiting

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Jungkook and Jimin always sit side by side on every interview. Just like today, where he sat on the very left side, and Jimin on his right side. They are currently recording some western radio interviews since 10 AM. Its been 2 hours now—since they tried to squeeze every interview into one-day shoots. Jungkook is grateful that Jimin is the one who can't completely stay still and naturally touchy, like right now, where Jimin's hands just playing with his fingers while the older is currently laughing at whatever they are currently talking about. Jungkook has been out of the interview since the last hour, yes, he's still smiling and giving out a little response once or twice, but he doesn't know what's currently going on. His mind just like stuffed cotton candy.

He knows something is wrong with his body. Maybe because last night's dinner not sitting well, or he's just down with sickness. All he knows that he's feeling like shit. Cold sweat currently dripping down on his back, he feels faint actually. He takes a brief look at the clock, still 15 minutes until this recording end. He could hold on until that, yeah, he could.

He squeezed Jimin's fingers, an attempt to distract his mind from his sloshing stomach and the urge to puke just right there. He knows that the older eyes are now on him with a questioned look, but Jungkook tried to act chill. If he's giving back the gaze, Jimin would know that something is wrong with him. Jungkook still fiddles with Jimin's fingers while swallowing saliva once a while. Jimin turns back the squeeze, that's his silent way to tell "hold on for a few minutes again, kook".

the 15 minutes of hell is finally over for Jungkook. When the PD-nim shouts "CUT", Jungkook urgently pulling Jimin's hands that are still interlaced with his fingers. " Wait wait, Jungkook hold on", Jimin hold back. Jungkook turned to his Hyung with a pleading look. He's really gonna puke right now, he can't hold few minutes more and he wants Jimin to come with him.

"What, hyung? lets get out of here i need to go to the bathroom", Jungkook says urgently. Jimin tilts his head, " Why are you dragging me to the bathroom?"

Jungkook ducked his head down, and mumbled something under his breath, "Just because .... "

Jimin finally catches up. He knows something is up with Jungkook.

"Jungkook, what is this? is everything okay?", Jimin asks as he lowers his gaze so it can meet the younger eyes. He suddenly noticed how pale Jungkook's lips even it already concealed with a lip tint.

Jimin startled when Jungkook suddenly drops his body down, now squatting with hands on his lips and eyes squeezed shut. "Jungkook, hey, are you okay? what are you feeling?", Jimin voices filled with concerns, his hand moving to brush the younger hair that is now damped with cold sweats.

"Oh God, Jungkook you're breaking cold sweats"

"I feel sick hyung. Lets get out from here i need to go to the bathroom", Jungkook finally let out his voice that thick with nausea. Jimin slides his arms on Jungkook's waist and brings him to the bathroom. Not caring how Namjoon calling out their name and 5 pairs of worried eyes burning his back.

Jimin hearts raced at how Jungkook looks so weak. No wonder the younger has been fiddling with his fingers a lot and not talking as much as he usually is on interview. Suddenly he is aware of how sick Jungkook looks right now.

Jungkook basically pushed Jimin away and run to one of the stalls with his cheeks puffed and one hand holding his stomach. Not even he considers closing the door because they are the only ones in there. Jungkook stands in front of the toilet with hands on his knees, doesn't want to kneel because he's afraid of making his jeans dirty. Stylist noona will give him an earful if he messed up with these clothes. He squeezed his eyes shut, feeling his stomach clenched that trigger a silent gag. His mouth wide open, preparing for the rush of vomit but only a trickle of his coffee earlier that comes out.

Jimin hands tucking Jungkook's now permed hair behind the younger ears, and another is rubbing his back. Jimin could feel how tense is Jungkook right now that he keeps gagging. "Hey, Jungkook .. calm down. You might strain your throat and your muscles, dont force it baby", Jimin says softly which immediately cuts out with gag and a little vomit trickling down to the toilet.

Jungkook straight up his body, his back feels a little bit hurt after bends forward for few minutes. He flushed the toilet with his shaky hands and then settled to facing the toilet again.

"Can't hyung ... 'm so nauseous. Need to puke"

"But you cant now Jungkook-ah, you will only tire yourself now", Jimin says. Jungkook keeps on gagging. He's so adamant to let his stomach content out and get over this sickness. Then he hears Jimin's propositions, " How about we get back to dorm right now, then you can stay in the bathroom as much as you want while i make your favorite mint tea? It might help you feel better .. and it will be more comfortable back at the dorm, okay?"

Jungkook sniffles, and then flushed the toilet that still crystal clear since he hasn't let out anything in the past minutes. He turned his body to his hyung and dropped his head to Jimin's crooks, "Okay, let's go hyung, 'm tired"

Jimin smiles softly and guided Jungkook to their car, so he can wait there while Jimin prepared everything before they go home. Jimin hurriedly back to their changing room, packing him and Jungkook's belonging, ran to talk to Yoongi that he met hallway to give a notice about Jungkook's condition and then ran again to snatched a plastic bag —just in case they need it— before going to their car.

The road to their dorm is silent. Jungkook is sleeping —at least he looks like sleeping with his eyes closed— leaning to Jimin's shoulder, while Jimin looking out at the scenery with one hand unconsciously rubbing Jungkook's clenched palms. Jimin didn't initiate a convo, knowing that Jungkook might not up to it.

20 minutes later, their manager successfully pulls their car into their dorm parking lot. Jungkook without hesitation storm inside the dorm, leaving Jimin confused. After paying a "thank you" to their manager and driver, Jimin hurriedly ran inside and was greeted by sounds of Jungkook's retches. He walks inside the bathroom and sat on the bathtub, hands automatically rubbing Jungkook's back that's curving as the younger sends his stomach content to the toilet.

"Jungkookie, breathe", Jimin absentmindedly says.

Jungkook finally leans away from the toilet and gasps for air after the first round of his vomiting sessions.

"Are you done?", Jimin asks as he flushes the half-filled toilet. Jungkook shakes his head, propped his body to lean forward to the toilet again, " Mhm, more"

It didn't take long before he let out a deep belch, followed by clear liquid mixed with yellow bile rush from Jungkook's mouth. Jimin thinks that Jungkook is already empty since now the younger only vomited clear liquid, not food remnants. This round finished quickly. Jungkook spits out saliva before standing on his shaky legs, flushed the toilet and walk to the sink to get rid of the aftertaste of vomit in his mouth.

Jimin following behind, "are you feeling better now, Jungkook-ah?"

Jungkook looks at the older from the mirror, nodding slowly. He's too tired to let out proper words. Jimin smiles and then walked out of the bathroom. Jungkook retreats himself to his room, can't wait to let his body fall into his comfy bed and curled in there. He can thanks Jimin later, after taking a nap, he thoughts. For now, laying down is his priority, if he must stand up for a few minutes longer he's sure he will pass out. Jungkook hurriedly changes his clothes that now sticky to his body, take the first shirt and sweatpants his eyes could catch on and curl in under his blanket. He might develop a mild fever since he's slightly shivering now.

Jungkook already half-unconscious when he felt a hand brushing his hair. He opened his eyes slowly and meets Jimin's eyes.

"Can you stomach some soup, Kook? or just a few sips of tea? you need to take your medicine first, then you can go to sleep"

Jungkook shakes his head and brings the blanket up to his head.

"Jungkook", he could hear Jimin's tired voice. A pang of guilty hit his heart, he knows he acts like a brat right now, even after he drags Jimin with him since the very start, but Jungkook can't bear the image of putting something on his mouth. The thoughts alone already making him want to gag.

He hears Jimin sighed, followed by his bed moved slightly and then sounds of the door closed. Jungkook immediately sits up and watches that Jimin is no longer in his room. Tears filled his eyes —maybe this is fever taking over his emotions— but he's upset about how he behaves to Jimin. So Jungkook choked out a sob and grabbed the soup that Jimin left on the table beside him. He eats the soup in silence, sometimes sniffed as the tears won't stop. He's way too focused on his soup and his mind until he didn't hear his room opened again.

"Oh, you're finally eating", Jimin's soft voices trickling his ears. Jungkook looks up and his tears just fall faster.

"Huh? why are you crying? are you hurt? are you gonna be sick again?", Jimin is now in full panic. He just left to change his clothes and cleaned his make-up, so why now he comes to Jungkook full crying?

"Jungkook, talk to me ... why are you crying?", Jimin says as his thumb wipes tears from Jungkook's cheeks. After few minutes, Jungkook is calming down.

" I thought you were mad at me because i don't want to eat .. I'm sorry Hyung. I have eaten half of it though, i also already take the medicine .. ", Jungkook mumbles slowly. Jimin falls silent for a minute before he breaks into a laugh.

"Aigoo Jungkookie, I left because I need to change clothes and wash my face. I figured that you may be still can't eat something. I'm not mad at you"

Jungkook watches Jimin laughs in disbelief. Faint color of red creeps into his cheeks. He shoves his hyung that still bends over because of laughing slowly and buried his body under the blanket again. Too embarrassed to face Jimin after his break down session, "Go away"

Jimin laughs louder, hands trying to pull the blanket so he can see Jungkook's face clearer, "You will cry again if i go away though, you missed me that bad huh?"

Jungkook grunts but still let out a small smile under the blanket, "You're lucky i am sick right now hyung"

#bts sickfic #bts emeto #tw emeto #tw vomit #sick!jungkook #caretaker!jimin

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disembowel-me · 5 years

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Baal & Slith ft abuse, dubcon(?), extreme gaslighting/brainwashing, recording, and death

“You know Ren, in my old life I wanted to be a director.”

Renoe didn't care about Baal’s career ambitions, but it seemed humoring him was the only way he was going to get information about Slit.

Baal grinned, setting up a tape. “Being so concerned about my brother, I mostly stuck to photography as a hobby. Clearly, it didn't work out. But, that doesn't mean I haven't totally forgotten about it.” Baal snapped his fingers, summoning the illusion of a chair and sat down. “I made a… ah, experimental film? And I’d like to show it to you.”

Renoe scowled. “Get to the point.”

Baal laughed. “Come on, Ren, have a seat. I think you'll want to see this.”

Begrudgingly, Renoe pulled a dining chair out and sat. The two men exchanged glances, and Baal pressed play:

Slit sits in the middle of a white room.

He is naked, showing off his every rib under skin stretched thin. His skin is no longer a healthy flush pink, but a pale, pallid sallow, and impossibly dark circles line the under of his eyes. His hair has grown long past his shoulders, frizzy and brittle looking.

Vast amount of scars cover his body - thick, sloppy keloids running along his thighs, up his forearms, along the curve of his breast; slabs of skin missing from his stomach and chest, burns of all sizes scattered between. Dark mottled bruises run up his upper thighs into his groin, torso, and ribs.

“Slith,” Baal’s voice comes from behind the camera. “Smile for me.”

I turn my tired eyes toward him and give a weak smile. He’s smiling too, adjusting something on his camera. I don’t know what the camera is for. It’s making me a little nervous, but… I trust him.

“Today is special. Do you know why?”

I shake my heavy head. Every day Baal comes to see me is special. Why would today be any different?

“It's your anniversary…” He continues. “You've come so far.”

My voice, so hardly used above anything but a whisper, is frail and cracks. “...How long?”

“Six months!”

I glance around this plain white room, fluorescent lights beating down on me just as they had the first day I came here. I try to not think about the past… it's all so hazy. But still, has it really been my home six months?

“Why are you… recording?”

“You remember Renoe, don’t you?” Baal’s voice was soft.

My blood chills. Hazy memories of that man hurting me fill my head. For the life of me I cannot remember specific things, but I know he did terrible things. I can’t believe I ever trusted him. They both, admittedly, were controlling, but at least Baal made sure I was always comfortable. And if he did hurt me… it was a good reason. You have to purge the sins with fire. These scars are reminders of what I’ve overcome and what not to repeat.

Renoe… he made me suffer for no reason. Even before the torture, he needlessly hurt me. He’s a cold-blooded killer. I was an idiot to ever trust him. At least I learned I can’t be trusted to make my own choices.

Baal will keep me safe from everything. From Renoe, from the world. Even from my own bad judgment.

“Don’t worry, I'll never let him touch you again,” Baal reassures me, “I just want to show him how happy you are with me.”

I watch him wearily, not saying anything else. I don't really care. I just want Baal to come and give me attention.

Baal finishes fiddling with the camera and comes to sit with me. My heart surges - finally! He situates himself behind me and places his hands my shoulders. Ecstasy fills me, radiating from the warmth of his fingertips into my core, and I melt into his touch right away, eyes rolling back. I lean into his lap, pressing myself against him as hard I can in hopes that maybe, this time, he’ll never let go. His breath is hot on my ear and his hands wander, touching me everywhere. My muscles twitch under my skin as my body becomes hot, so hot, and an itch grows between my thighs. I’m going lightheaded. My head rolls back against Baal’s shoulder, grabbing handfuls of his shirt.

He kisses me, laying my back against the concrete floor, and lifts my legs by the ankle, exposing me to the camera. I fidget my fingers over the concrete at my side and wince in a mix of pain and pleasure when Baal enters me. The bruises on my thighs burn hotly. Another wave of ecstasy flows over me, blurring in and out with the sensation where our bodies meet. He keeps touching me, fucking me, making me feel good, and I am so happy to be here with my savior.

“Ba-aal,” I whine, tears in the corner of my eyes. “Tha-ank you…” I hook my legs together around Baal’s hips and lift myself against him. Burying my hands in his hair - This pain - feels so nice - I think our bodies are melting together. I’m so happy. I want to be a part of him forever.

My affection. My savior. My entire world. I live and breath for him. He saved me. He knows what is best for me.

He flips me onto my elbows and knees, and rapture so powerful fills me that my limbs give out beneath me and my vision blurs. Above me, Baal keeps moving and my mind goes blank.

Baal holds Slit’s chin up, giving a clear view of his intoxication. The position of his hand keeps Slit’s mouth open, allowing every whine and moan and cry freely out.

His shame, his dignity, his very identity has been erased. The modest, shy boy who blushed at a slight touch or implication is long gone; what is left of him sweats and drools and makes lewd, undignified sounds; he shudders and shivers and writhes under Baal, who keeps going until Slit is sobbing from over-stimulation.

Baal lets go of the boy’s hips, letting him fall, and comes on the floor. Leisurely, he stands and takes Slit’s chin to direct his gaze toward the mess on the floor.

Eyelids drooping and a labored breath shaking his flush, frail body, Slit drags himself to the mess and, pressing his cheek to the concrete, flicks out his tongue to lick it up. When he finishes, he pulls himself to Baal’s feet, laying his forehead on his boots.

“Th-thank you,” he breathes. “My lord, my- my savior... I lo-love you. I love… you.” He repeats himself feverishly, snaking his way up Baal’s leg, stuttering out praises. “You-” a sob escapes his lips, “-You’re so good to me.”

Standing above him, Baal shoots a smug glance at the camera and reaches down to pet Slit’s hair. “Do you love me, Slith?”

He pushes his head up into Baal’s hand. “I love you.”

“Would you do anything for me?”

“A-anything.” His voice is full of fervent obedience.

Baal kneels down behind Slit to wrap his arms around his shoulders and places something in his hand. “Show Renoe how much you love me. Show him how much I mean to you.”

Slit stares wide-eyed for a moment. Slowly, hands shaking, he lifts it and allows the camera to see Baal’s dagger, a blade that had gotten to know Slit’s skin intimately even before he disappeared. He raises it to his chest, eyes trained on Baal, who gives him a nod of encouragement. Bringing the blade down on his right breast, he begins carving a line down. Immediately, his face tightens, tears rolling down his cheeks as the letters B-A-A-L slowly appeared in red, blocky and dripping. On the last letter, L, his hand hitches, driving the blade through his nipple. The blade clatters to the ground as Slit screams, holding his chest.

“Baal… I… I did it…” he chokes out.

Baal leans in, firmly taking Slit’s wrists and pulling his arms apart. “Let me see…”

“It h-hurts,” he sobs, chest heaving.

“Revel in the pain, Slith,” Baal coos. “That’s the proof of your devotion, remember?”

He nods pathetically but smiles through his tears.

“Good boy.” Baal strokes Slit’s head. “Really, you're doing such a good job.”

Slit chokes out a sob, smiling even more at the praise.

Baal brushes a strand of hair behind Slit’s ear. “You know it's almost time.”

Slit nuzzles against the hand for a moment, holding it close with his own, but then freezes. “Wait- I-I’m not ready. I don't want to leave yet.”

Baal’s voice grows cold. “That’s not your decision.”

Slit’s eyes shift erratically. “Please-”

“I made you.” Baal stands suddenly. “And I can destroy you. You belong to me. Did you really forget already? ”

Slit pales. “I-I-” His voice cracked. He swiftly puts his head to Baal's feet again. “Pl-please forgive m-me… I-I-I, I love you, I just want to stay with you-”

Baal yanks me up by my hair. I gasp but don’t fight back. I ache to apologize more, I really do, but I don’t want to make him even more upset. I’ve already far overstepped my boundaries.

“This is what I’m talking about. Do you really still not trust me?” His violet eyes pierce right through me and I squirm. Something about them prevents me from looking away. I really don’t want to answer, but I think he’s going to force me to… Something in my stomach churns.

“Is this still too much freedom for you to handle? Do I need to relieve you of even more burdens?” He looks genuinely hurt, like always, but some intonation in his voice makes me uncomfortable. My stomach feels even worse now.

I don’t even know what else he could take from me. He controls my everything.

The sickness increases suddenly. Excessive saliva fills my mouth, bile rises in my throat, and he still hasn’t let go of my hair. “Ba-” I try to warn him, but regurgitation bites the back of my tongue and I’m afraid if I try any more I’ll puke on him. Blood drips to the floor and my chest aches, and a chill runs through my body as I remember he’s still recording this. Why is he recording this? Just to show it to Renoe? I feel even sicker at the thought. Renoe can’t see me like this…!

Baal finally let's go, and I hang my head low. “Cat got your tongue, hm? Or… is it that you want me to decide for you?”

I can't hold it back anymore. I shudder and vomit on the floor, my hands, Baal’s boots. It burns, and I cry. I hear Baal sigh, and he crouches down with a napkin to wipe my face with. Did he...plan this?

“Are you really showing this to Renoe?” I ask quietly.

“Why, love?”

“I…” Tears blur my vision. “I can’t let him see me this way.” I feel ashamed. It's not from being covered in vomit. This has happened before. Why do I feel so ashamed?

A hand takes a firm grip on my jaw and forces me to look back into those violet eyes. I really think he can see everything about me with them.

“But you're happy, aren't you? Being here with me?”

“...Es.” I barely squeak out the answer.

Maybe the vomit was symbolic because my head feels so much clearer now.

“What was that?” He asks softly.

Maybe Baal was trying to teach me one last lesson…?

“Yes… I’m happy here.”

I really am.

“Then that's all that matters.” He smiles. And his hand lowers to my neck.

But I don't want to leave.

His other hand clamps down around my throat, and I find I can no longer breathe.

I relinquished control long ago, but I so desperately want to stay here forever with him.

Panic sets in as the burning pressure builds in my lungs.

His face is so calm above me. Not calculated like Renoe, but serene. “You’re so beautiful, Slith…”

My heart swells- though maybe it's just oxygen deprivation.

My savior thinks I’m beautiful…

I’m so glad I get to die by his hand.

He doesn't struggle. He simply smiles up at Baal, a smile of resignation and gratitude, until even that is impossible, and his face goes slack.

Baal keeps hold on Slit’s neck long after he turns blue, his eyes roll back, and stops moving. Not until he is certainly dead does Baal let go.

He stands up and looks down at Slit’s body for a moment. Then he brushes himself off, gives a slight, malicious smirk at the camera, and the video cuts out.

#more old stuff since im in a slump #My writing #slith #baal

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