#and the specific sub-grouping of becoming something that is not human | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

illiteratethekid · 1 year

Text

I had to cataloge this. reddit post from r/offmychest

u/BigBingus1337

I (27F) have been struggling with an extremely disgusting problem for 14 years, and I need help.

nsfw

(CW)

Content warning:

Strong depiction of bodily fluids (excrement, urine)

Suicide attempts

Depression

Physical/Sexual/Emotional Abuse

Sexual discussion

Self harm

Just a lot of awful stuff

(CW)

Please be warned, this is an extremely gross, explicit, and hard to handle post. I'm not making this up. This isn't a joke. I'm in a lot of pain. I've tried a lot and I don't know what to do anymore.

I feel helpless, ashamed, disgusted, and sub-human.

It's only now after 14 years of this cycle that I've become so, *so* tired of hiding my shame that I can talk about it publicly and reach out for more help, or at least get this off my chest.

If I seem distant or use wack-ass language, it's because I've lived this way for too long to get hung up on making any of this fit "acceptable" language.

It's impossible.

I'm also well aware that this might get memed into oblivion, shared around like "look at this lmao gross", and laughed at.

I get it. I can sort of see how in a sick, fucked-up kind of way this could be funny from an outside perspective.

Comedy helps people cope, ridiculing others is a maladaptive way of comforting oneself.

What I worry about is people not reading this with empathy or a desire to understand, and would rather trash on me and reinforce the hatred I already have for myself and my behaviors.

So just fuckin... be cool.

Please.

For the past 14 years, I haven't been able to stop fingering my ass, defacating on towels/toiletpaper and urinating in bottles/towels/tp/etc.

It has caused me to live in unsanitary, isolating, shameful, and disgusting conditions.

It has cost me my health, happiness, safety, relationships, living situations, and on several occasions, it's caused me to attempt suicide.

I am scared of being somehow shamed more than I shame myself by posting this. I've sought professional help, and it hasn't worked regardless of if its my fault or the help.

About me:

I'm 27, I have a decent job, a good group of friends, recent-ish-ly single, handful of great and awful partners, etc.

I'm trans, she/her. (Please don't be weird. I struggled with this problem well before I had any inkling of gender stuff. That's not how it works)

I've been diagnosed with ADHD, ASD, and Clinical Depression.

I have taken pretty standard adhd medication for the last 8 years

I have tried 5 different SSRIs with at best, no effect, and at worst, full blown serotonin syndrome, mild psychosis, and seizures.

Over the years, I've seen 4 therapists for a couple years at a time.

All of which were actually wonderful help for understanding and coping with trauma, depression, ADHD, ASD, and sexual/physical/emotional abuse.

I haven't been able to mend this specific problem, even with their help.

The formatting of this post is really choppy mainly because it's comprised of notes I've taken on this issue in notepad++

Some of it might seem detached or "clinical" because of this.

I use these notes to help analyze the behaviors that are happening and the different emotions and motivators at play.

I have always struggled on-and-off with keeping my personal spaces clean due to whatever cocktail of adhd, depression, asd, whatever.

Trash, rotting food, disorganization, dirty bed, etc.

I'd say it would be 70% as bad as a typical "neckbeard-nest" image you would see.

Never piles so high I couldn't see or leave my space, but, certainly enough to be playing hop-scotch to get around.

Both the depression messes and the defecating problem have gone through cycles of getting slightly better, getting much worse, better again ,etc.

Potential reasons for being Motivated/compelled/habitual fingering my ass for a combination of 2 reasons:

ASD Stimming/comfort/sexual stimulation from prostate when feeling... *something*

Attempts to identify that something lead to maybe these?

- Potentially feeling bored/understimulated

- An emptiness emotionally

2. ASD Sensory issues around feeling unclean after shitting, e.g. still feeling shit inside me and disgust/frustration with how that interferes with #1?

Earliest possible memory/origin of behavior:

Exploring my body/masturbating with anal stimulation around age 12-13.

As with anyone who's done anal, "shit happens", especially when you don't know about cleaning yourself out.

I would end up coming into contact with shit, not knowing what to do, and just wiping it on toilet paper or towels.

I would hide the evidence because I was ashamed and embarrassed.

An unfortunate part of this habit is that fingering your ass causes a feeling of need to urinate.

Whenever I finger my ass, I urinate into toilet paper, a bottle, a container.

This affects my living space by making it unsanitary, extremely unpleasant, and isolating.

This leads to even more unsanitary conditions, more avoidance, procrastination, and shame.

The unsanitary conditions cause a rolling chain of dependency/vicious cycle

For example:

- An area gets gross or unpleasant (typically the bathroom first)

- That area is now more difficult to reach both physically and emotionally

- Procrastination/avoidance/shame/refusal to clean the area

- I am unable to use that area, leading to shitting and pissing in a pile elsewhere

- Causing more spread out messes

- repeat until harsh physical/social consequences or suicidality take hold

- then clean everything top to bottom and try to not get in the cycle again

I always end up back in the cycle.

The anxiety & helplessness around my struggles with this make it impossible to have anyone over

I am too ashamed to ask for help, or accept it when offered.

Friends know I'm depressed and struggle with keeping my spaces clean, but I never tell them the full story. Usually a half-truth.

I often tell my friends they can't come over because "my place is like a wreck, like unsanitary bad".

Which isn't *exactly* wrong, but isn't representative of how bad things actually are.

I feel like the 2 people in my life I've told the real, full details of this to, don't actually understand how bad it really is. They know I've had a *history* of issues with it.

I can't bring myself to tell them that its something I'm still struggling with *now*

The above is driven by shame.

I've done property damage. I've let wet piss soaked towels sit for weeks on beautiful wooden floors, bleaching them and stripping them of their varnish.

I've ruined and thrown out dozens of towels, sheets, carpets.

I've had to cut dried shit out of my own clothing or throw them away.

I've had to throw away wonderful gifts loving family and friends have given me because they were destroyed when I knocked over a months old piss bottle.

I had to steam clean my own shit stains out of carpet when moving out of an old apartment.

I remember sitting there, breaking down at seeing the damage I've caused.

I was so overwhelmed by my own disgust and hatred for my existence.

I got my handgun, put a magazine in, and put it in my mouth, and without a second of hesitation, pulled the trigger.

It sounds kinda dramatic, but I don't remember if I forgot to rack the slide on purpose or by mistake.

Somehow I'm glad I didn't, but there are many times I have regretted not doing it.

When I was in my teens my parents would discover/"catch" me living this way a couple times.

My parents did not handle finding out in a safe or loving way.

Shocker, I know.

They screamed at me that I'll lose all my housing opportunities, friends, and safety net if someone finds out.

And they aren't wrong about the consequences, but all they did was punish me, beat me, strip me of my privacy by removing my door from it's hinges, my healthy hobbies, shame me, and held no space for understanding or help.

They called it a fetish.

It was not.

However in the past year I've explored scat videos. I don't even like it. It's like a sick desperation for understanding what's wrong with me.

I've never in my 14 year history enjoyed living in my own filth.

I think my short exploration of scat as a porn category was just coping with trauma and uncertainty through a sexual lens.

Just fantasizing that I could convince myself its as simple as a fetish or desire, and because of that, it would be okay.

It's not.

It's not a fetish.

I don't enjoy this. I hate this.

This is extremely debilitating, and I don't deserve to go through this, but I can't seem to find a way to stop.

I feel deep shame and unsafety in regards to people finding out, telling them, or anyone helping because they won't understand.

It's hard to put into words how impossible it feels to break this habit.

It feels like when someone tells you the only way to get better is to "love yourself".

Like... what the fuck does that even mean? How? How can you do that if you don't value your own love? Monopoly money has more value than that.

Therapy has helped me cope with those nagging feelings for things like depression, abuse, self-worth, etc.

But changing this behavior feels as impossible as changing the laws of physics.

How do you sit with yourself, the 14th year of trying to outwit your own habits that try to kill you, remove you from society, and ruin everything you love, and say "Well this attempt it's gonna work!" and feel any sort of actual hope? Sure it's writing a fatalistic narrative for myself, and sure it sounds like I've resigned myself to this. What the fuck do I do?

The really sad thing is that I'm not the only one out there who struggles with this weird compulsive fingering and defecation issue.

A quick google search of the behavior leads to a couple forums/quora-like sites of people talking about this behavior and how they can't stop and don't know what it is.

They're desperately trying to find a reason or help. As far as I can tell, they never do.

So its like... what the hell are my chances if dozens of other people are struggling too?

I know my physical safety might concern people reading this. I'm at a point in therapy where suicide really just isn't on the menu for me anymore. I just want to assure readers that I'm not suicidal. I'm gonna keep living. I can't be certain whether or not I'll be living well.

Edit:

To all of you sending me private messages, saying this is hot, asking me to piss on them, getting turned on by this:

I hope you fucking rot. I really do.

As someone in the kink community, I don't shame others for what they like. But you REALLY think its appropriate to come into my DMs from a post where I detail a behavior that drove me to attempt suicide, and start waving your dick around?

There are no words that describe my sheer contempt for you. Rot.

To everyone else: I really appreciate the support and understanding you have provided. The responses have given me a lot to think about, and a lot of potential new paths to go down. Thank you, and I wish you the same care, kindness, and affirmation of humanity you all have provided to me.

#reddit

3 notes · View notes

angyvalentine · 9 months

Note

Tell us more about your Tav! You said she's followed you for 10 years?

First of all, thanks for askin’! I quite never got the chance to talk so much about Rey <3 So here’s a quick explanation about her origins, and under cut for more background stuff, may someone be interested.

Back in 2013, I started to play Neverwinter online. It was 22nd December when I created her as my first character in the game. An elf mage, as usual (there’s not the sorcerer class). A bit later I got the Knight of the Feywildpack, that allowed me to choose a specific sub-race, the Moon Elf. I had fun with this character, I completed as many modules as I could.

Then in 2015 they released the Underdark module – the first one written by R.A. Salvatore himself.

Until then, Farelya – Rey – was just a character I played in a game. Then I started writing fanfics, based on quests of the Mage Engine campaign (tied to the Underdark one) – the longer one from a quest in particular, “A view of Menzoberranzan”, where you’ve to disguise yourself as a Lolth priestess, followed by Drizzt as your “prisoner”, and retrieve Gromph Baenre's Grimoire from a drow outpost.

Slowly, I started to add details to details. Her wicked amulet, that holds the soul of a black dragon, eager to be fed of her fears and terrors – eager to indeed consume her and wholly possess her body, destroying her soul and mind; her over-protective pseudodragon, Vulthuryol (name I chose from one of the secret dragons in Skyrim), her familiar – and details of her past, why she’s afraid of her own amulet, and why her eyes have two different colors.

I wrote 30+ pages just for THAT oneshot and I’ve yet to finish it.

But yep, I’m currently playing her adventures in the Sword Coast – and in Space now, as well (the new module is named Spelljammer. Not really my cup of tea, honestly, I prefer the classic fantasy to the science one) xD

Here we go with some background stuff, then :D Be careful, there are some gruesome parts

She was born in the Moonwood, as an only child. Magic flows in the female part of her family, indeed both her mother and grandma are sorceresses – while her father is a ranger. She started to practice very early to gain more and more control over her powers, all while occasionally wearing magic-repression cuffs to keep her wild magic at bay. She feared she may hurt others, but yet she was eager to learn.

Later in her life, she often visited Silverymoon and the libraries of the Lady’s College, at least before starting her life as an adventurer – Moon elves have a great wanderlust, after all.

She was in reverie, after a long journey, when she got kidnapped by a group of young (and crazy) Red Wizards apprentices, who had fun using her basically as guinea pig – that’s how she lost her right eye. They tried to break her. Left her to starve, drugg*d her, and pulled her eye off while she was still conscious (totally groggy due to all the alcohol they gave her to drink, obviously against her will. That’s why she doesn’t drink alcohol at all, since then. Not to mention Volo's attempt to "help" her - attempt that triggered her so badly that it resolved in his face being almost burn to crisp.)

Thanks to an amulet her master gave her years prior, she managed to (barely) escape, get found and healed by Mielikki's priests. Unknowing to her, that same necklace held the soul of a black dragon (not really a phylactery, tho) that actually could help her increasing her powers, but at the cost of little pieces of her humanity.

That’s when she got to know the creature that, later on, would become her familiar and closer confidant – a pseudodragon that she’d name Vulthuryol.

She went back to find those mages and got a (quite) gruesome revenge, taking one of the most beautiful eyes of them to replace the one she lost (the now-gold one).

Since then, Vul vigils over her reverie, allowing her to rest when she needs (this, until she got closer to Halsin).

Aaand that’s all, guys! If you want to know something more about my Moon baby, please let me know <3

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #tav background #I'm so glad I got to talk about my baby Rey

1 note · View note

thefanficmonster · 3 years

Text

Filterless

Corpse Husband x Plus-sized Reader (Female)

Warnings: Body Image Insecurities, Low self-esteem, Swearing

Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, RPF (Real Person Fic)

Summary: Feeling comfortable in her skin has hardly ever been the case for Y/N who’s been struggling with body image issues all her life. However, they only get worse when she sees the ‘type’ of girls her crush is into.

Requested by Anon. Hi darling! Thank you so much for your request (hits close to home 😅) I’m so sorry it has taken me so long to fulfill it and post it but here it finally is and if you’ve stuck around long enough to read it, I hope you enjoy! ALSO! - Never forget how beautiful and amazing you are. Never compare your beauty to someone else’s. We’re all beautiful people and we all shine so brightly and uniquely. No one deserves to be compared to anyone when we’re all so different yet so incredible. Love you and appreciate you with all my heart, Vy ❤

If I ever need my ego taken down a few notches - it never does, it’s barely even present, to be honest - all I have to do is go on Instagram. To be honest, regardless of how I’m feeling, opening that app is bound to make my mood plummet and come crashing into the ground so hard it drives a hole in it - probably in the form of a broken heart.

Being a content creator myself, I often get asked questions about my absence on that social platform specifically. I mean, the questions are based and rational I guess, considering I’m not a faceless YouTuber and yet my Instagram account is void of any photos. It’s not like I don’t post at all - I do! I post on my story often but it’s more often than not scenery I find pretty or a poster I’ve made for a movie/video game. Bottom line is: I barely ever allow a picture of me to make it online. The most my fans are ever gonna get of me is a selfie which is also a super rare occurrence because of how long it takes me to take and choose one I don’t hate.

Ok, but how am I supposed to find the motivation to post any sort of picture of myself when on my timeline I’m always faced with people worthy of posting pictures of themselves. People with such perfect bodies and beautiful faces. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not jealous or envious of those people - good for them! They know what they’re working with and they’re working it well. I have nothing against them, in fact, I love seeing people proud of their bodies no matter their size, shape or weight. Those are my role-models: people who are proud of themselves, their bodies, their attributes and capabilities and don’t hesitate to show them off. Those are the people I look up to but, deep down inside I know I’ll never be like.

Insecure about my body, having been referred to as ‘chubby’ and ‘squishy’ all my life. Inappreciative of the stuff I do: starting from my job as a graphic designer leading towards my job on YouTube - nothing I do, professionally or otherwise, satisfies me. Nothing I do is enough in my eyes because I feel incapable of ever being able to do enough. I’ve been called lazy and a half-asser a few too many times to be able to brush it off as a meaningless insult.

With these problems I’ve had with myself and my own perception of who I am and the work I do, I’ve never had the time for romance or romantic relationships. I second-guess the intentions of everyone who ever shows any interest in me because in my mind I’m nothing special and I have nothing to offer - nothing attractive or likable at least. That being said, I haven’t even been one to make heart eyes at others either. I busy myself with my job and some side-gigs, brushing off any relationship questions with the excuse that I’m ‘just too busy to be in a relationship’ which is technically true.

Having spent twenty plus years with that mindset, one can imagine how surprised I was when I found myself catching feelings for someone. And that someone just couldn’t be any other than the biggest YouTube sensation at the moment - Corpse Husband.

I’m close friends with Poki - her and I were roommates at one point too - so her inviting me to play Among Us with them wasn’t so strange. One or two games, I thought, nothing unusual there, just friendly curtesy. I wasn’t expecting to warm up to the group of famous streamers nor did I expect them to welcome me among them so easily, mostly because my channel is so small and practically invisible to the YouTube algorithm. But soon enough, I became a permanent member of the team, making friends with every single one of those YouTubers I practically thought of a celebrities.

This journey of branching out to other content creators has proven itself to be surprisingly pleasant and has packed my book of friendships to the brim. All of that came unexpectedly, along with a wave of new subs and a higher view count. However, as I mentioned, it hasn’t been all sunshine and rainbows. I came to finally understand what my high school friends were talking about when they were head over heels for a boy - the butterflies in the stomach whenever he speaks your name; the importance of the laugh you share with him, how special and different it is; how cool it is to be impostors with him - ok they never said that, obviously, but it’s what I have as a substitute to the ‘when the two of you make eye-contact’ bullshit since Corpse and I have never seen each other in person. That is, of course, because of him being a faceless YouTuber and me being a self-conscious and insecure girl.

We do talk all the time though - texting, calling, chilling on Discord, you name it. Our conversations range from deeply philosophical to ones that might mislead someone into thinking we’re high. There’s no topic we haven’t touched upon and yet we still manage to find something new to talk about. We have plenty of similarities but we also never seem to run out of differences we slowly come across as we keep getting to know each other better and better.

And somewhere along that journey I ended up catching feelings.

Human nature of wanting to connect with other people, I curse you for what you’ve done to me.

You might think I’m being overdramatic about the whole ordeal and that this is just a normal, natural occurrence many people experience in their life - some even daily. Well, not only am I far from used to it, but it’s also taking a toll of a different kind on me.

It’s like a constant slap to the face.

That slap turned into a punch when Corpse and I started following each other on Instagram and I started getting daily reminders of how out of my depth I am with this crush on him. In over my head, especially when you look at all those girls whose pics and videos he reposts on his story. Imagine how that makes me feel, what that does to me - puts me back into the ‘Constantly not good enough‘ basket, the one I’ve been fighting to get out of all my life. In the past and in different contexts I could easily say that it was all just my mind hating me intensely but now - now that I know for a fact I’m not good enough and don’t fit Corpse’s criteria - it hurts ten times as much. I’m not one to do shit for someone’s attention or to attract someone’s eyes, but it really hurts my feelings. Often times, it also leads me to doing dumb things and making rash decisions.

Like the one I made two days ago.

Imagine me cringing and shaking my head at my own stupidity as I admit this: I, in a frenzy, ordered a whole e-girl getup with overnight delivery.

Wait, hold up, it gets worse.

I received it yesterday and spent the whole day regretting that decision, but then, in my most insecure hours - which was somewhere around midnight - I equipped the get-up, took a picture and posted it on my Instagram page. First full body pic I’ve ever posted on there. First pic I’ve posted there of any kind. There to stay, not to be gone in twenty four hours. First pic, and it’s not even of me. It’s of who I want to be in order to fit someone’s criteria. And that fucking stings.

As you might imagine, I’ve spent today’s day regretting that decision as well. Recently my mood’s been nothing but regretting rash decisions that have surfaced under the influence of my ridiculous, constantly-present insecurities. And I would’ve probably gotten over it rather quickly had I not received a message from Corpse that read:

“Didn’t think of you with an e-girl aesthetic“

I didn’t open the message, I peeped at it as it was a notification on my lock screen. It’s still there, an unread notification. It’s been two hours since I received it and I cannot think of a single thing to say in response to that.

Truth is, I’m afraid. I’m afraid of so many things right now.

I’m afraid of becoming that girl in the photo, cause I’m most definitely not her.

I’m afraid of letting Corpse down by admitting I’m not her.

I’m afraid of what my own mind has made me do because it hates me so much and I’m terrified of what it might do in the future.

I’m afraid and stranded on things to do.

You can’t be her forever, you know. Being her won’t make your insecurities go away, it’ll only make them worse. Haven’t you learned that by now?

I sigh, frustrated and irritated with myself as I grab my phone and tap on the notification, finally deciding to face the music and allow my instincts to carry me through the interaction. Improvisation, that’s one of the few things I’m good at. Let’s hope it doesn’t fail me.

I’m just about to type out my response - not sure what it’s gonna say - when I give the message Corpse has sent me a second glance. I furrow my brows, finding there’s more to it than that peep through the notification let me see.

“Didn’t think of you with an e-girl aesthetic. You’re personality is so bright and colorful, I could’ve never imagined you were into the darks and blacks“

Because I’m not

I fail to realize until the message has been sent that my thoughts are exactly what I typed out and sent.

And honestly, I’m glad. It feels like I’ve spoken my truth, like I’ve lifted a huge boulder off my chest.

With that rare confidence in mind I go on and delete the picture.

In its spot, I post a picture I just now took - a mirror selfie in my homey get-up consisting of hot pink sweatpants and an oversized blue tee, my hair in a messy bun, my face free of make-up.

I caption it: ‘Oops, had the e-girl filter on for the last one. This is filterless me tho so...Hi 🥴’

A lot better, I’m surprised to hear my inner voice say. I hope I don’t get used to all this kindness on my brain’s part, probably won’t last, but damn if I don’t milk every second of it.

Just then, I receive a new message from non other than Corpse.

“Now that’s the girl I see when I think of you. She’s super cute 😉“

My, oh my, who would’ve guessed Corpse has a game like that - and by that I mean the ability to make me blush so intensely with only a text message.

Now ain’t that better than being someone else, Y/N?

It sure is, it sure is.

@maat-the-prescriptive @simonsbluee @save-the-sky @itsminniekat @hacker-ghost @bi-andready-tocry @imtiredaffff @jazzkaurtheglorious @hereforbeebo @fandomgirl17 @chrysanthykios @maehemscorpyus @loraleiix @letsloveimagines @annshit @i-cant-choose-a-username-help @enigmaticmaze @divine-artemis @waterlilypat @idontknowwhatthisisfam @evi-ka @classyandfabulous00 @redperson58 @lilysdaydreams @solowheein @mythicalamphitrite @axen-gers @luckygirl144 @nj01 @buddyemily @the-albino-lioness @stardream14 @gdhdkfnn @nomadicgypsyy @preciousskye @fluffysuicideunicornsworld @o-kaelin @manacharlotte @awkward-youtube-trash @lolalee24 @bonky-beerns @meme-lord-and-savior-sebastian @strawbrinkofdeath @teenloves @tams0527 @browneyespinkhair @starstruckllamapuppy @daisychains012 @y0ulooked @tinytacosuitcaseflap @supernatural-is-my-only-life @jula-pauline @melodykitty @just-that-bi-girl @crazybutconfidentaf @lowellshade @alphakees @bellero @weallneednamjesus @starryhanji @boiled-onionrings @husherstan @fockingwhore @melaningoddessthings @prettypastelpetals @haleypearce @godwhyamiawkward @y-napotat @daisychainyoonmin @little-miss-rebel3 @free-wheelin-bi-sexual @redmoon261 @darkacademic2 @wiseflamingoqueen @into-the-end @namikhai-i @nastiablr @thelittleplantlover @mirktuan @dont-hyuck @jjk-bunny @vintagegothlover @easygoingtheatre @itsrandombooklover @miiaivi @emmybaybee @befourgolden @jjk-is-my-shit @eternalteaaars @spacebadgerx @princesslunalight @acequinn14 @samm48 @misselsbells06 @simp-lykawa @fo-love @marishimomura-blog @therealglenncoco @cinnamonbun332 @killtherandomness @sanshinexxxsan @fee-btheweeb @press-lay @cathleenpotgieter16 @jazzydoesstuff @moonlxghtbay @forestrain2000 @hyunjinhugs @blood-of-fandoms @lovellylies @ukiyolixx @simpforhpcharacters @chrisdylan17 @parkerjisung @pedernille @theodonyous @wineandionysus @malfoystilinskii05 @morbid-x @coryisagee @jessewa26 @scoobydooluver97 @mindintheskies365 @raeanneinwonderland @indecisive-empanada @gluttonypalace @loriane2503 @btsiguess-kpop @khaoticbunny @lucidlycactus @smiithys @rottenroyalebooks @kpopgirlbtssvt @fangirl-tc27 @fr0z3n-1 @notmesimpingfortechno @shotarosleftpinky @kunoi-chan @idk-whats-wrong-with-me @yikeroonie @goldenstarofthunderclan @poetry-and-tea @ama-do-writing-stuff @wishbonewolf @emeraldxhope @t0xick1tty @kusuinko @speakyourselfloveyourself @sophia902103 @lo-manburg @classsykittykat @dmgama @depressedpuppythatneedscoffee @btsiguess-kpop @akaashi-baby @gun-jong-simp @geschichtenfee @yerapotato-wp @browneyedgirl365 @thysagclub @sparklycloudnight @helloatomicshadow @queentorresstuff @vtte @val-gal @lucy-bunny17 @aaliyahh0 @katluckybear @boyleanti @straybids @franchesca-791 @cosmicstorm19 @averyisbackinthetrashcan @aomi-nabi @xlanawriter @allensimpsforcorpse

274 notes · View notes

kemetic-dreams · 4 years

Photo

IS IT BLACK OR AFRICAN OR AFRICAN AMERICAN?

HAD A RECENT RUN IN WITH AN ASIAN PATIENT OF MINE. WHO ASKED ME, AFTER I STATED MY NAME. WHAT DO I CALL YOUR PEOPLE? I HEAR SOME PEOPLE SAY BLACK, THEN AFRICAN AMERICAN,COLORED, AND SOMETHING CALLED MELANATED BEINGS?

SO THE BIG QUESTION WHAT DO WE CALL OURSELVES? I AM CONFUSED.

YOU MUST UNDERSTAND AFRICANS NEVER SPOKE ENGLISH

AFRICANS NEVER HAD A UNIFYING LANGUAGE

THE BASIS OF AFRICAN IDENTITY LET ALONE ALL IDENTITIES COMES FROM ETHNIC IDENTITY.

WHY WOULD AFRICANS BE MESMERIZED BY COLOR

REAL IDENTITIES ARE AUTONYMS, EXAMPLE AMAZULU IS A IDENTITY THAT THOSE GROUPS OF PPL WITH OUT FOREIGN INTERVENTION CAME UP WITH.

EUROPEANS NOR ASIAN CAME UP WITH THE TERM ZULU

THE TERM IFIRIYA OR AFRICA COMES FROM THE VARIOUS ETHNIC GROUPS FROM NORTH AFRICA

AFTER HANNIBAL WAS DEFEATED, SCIPIO NAMED HIS SELF AFTER THE LAND

ALSO AFRICA COMES FROM Massey, in 1881, stated that Africa is derived from the Egyptian af-rui-ka, meaning "to turn toward the opening of the Ka." The Ka is the energetic double of every person and the "opening of the Ka" refers to a womb or birthplace. Africa would be, for the Egyptians, "the birthplace."

WHEN WE SAY WE ARE AFRICAN WE ARE STATING OUR RAICAL ORIGINS. NOT A NATIONALITY

IS YOUR SKIN COLOR BLACK?

NO OUR SKIN IS NOT BLACK NOR DO ALL AFRICAN LOOK ALIKE OR MYOPIC

Human skin color ranges in variety from the darkest brown to the lightest hues. An individual's skin pigmentation is the result of genetics, being the product of both of the individual's biological parents' genetic makeup, and exposure to sun. In evolution, skin pigmentation in human beings evolved by a process of natural selection primarily to regulate the amount of ultraviolet radiation penetrating the skin, controlling its biochemical effects

Black people refers to a racialized classification of people, usually a political and a skin color-based category for specific populations with a mid to dark brown complexion. Not all Black people have dark skin; in certain countries, often in socially based systems of racial classification in the Western world, the term "Black" is used to describe persons who are perceived as dark-skinned compared to other populations. It is mostly used for people of Sub-Saharan African descent and the indigenous peoples of Oceania. Indigenous African societies do not use the term Black as a racial identity outside of influences brought by Western cultures.

For some individuals, communities and countries, "Black" is perceived as a derogatory, outdated, reductive or otherwise unrepresentative label, and as a result is neither used nor defined, especially in African countries with little to no history of colonial racial segregation. Some have commented that labeling people "Black" is erroneous as the people described as "Black" are seen by some to have a brown skin color.

WHO CAME UP WITH THE IDEA TO CALL AFRICANS BLACK

AFTER THE BACONS REBELLION, WHEN EUROPEANS AND AFRICANS HAD A REVOLT, THAT DESTROYED PLANTATIONS

It was the first rebellion in the North American colonies in which discontented frontiersmen took part (a somewhat similar uprising in Maryland involving John Coode and Josias Fendall took place shortly afterwards). The alliance between European indentured servants and Africans (many enslaved until death or freed), united by their bond-servitude, disturbed the ruling class. The ruling class responded by hardening the racial caste of slavery in an attempt to divide the two races from subsequent united uprisings with the passage of the Virginia Slave Codes of 1705.While the farmers did not succeed in their initial goal of driving the Native Americans from Virginia, the rebellion resulted in Berkeley being recalled to England.

AFTER THE LEADER OF THE REBELLION DIED LAND OWNERS, REACHED OUT TO LAW MAKERS FROM LONDON CAME OVER FOR HELP AND TO BE ADVISED

FIRST THING THEY DID WAS BAN INTER RACIAL MARRIAGES

THEN THEY DECIDED THAT AFRICANS WOULD NEVER GET OUT OF SLAVERY.

THIS IS WHEN THE TERM WHITE AND BLACK WERE DEVELOPED. BLACK MEANING YOU HAVE NO RIGHTS, AND WHITE MEANS YOU DO HAVE RIGHTS

youtube

SO WHEN WAS THE MAJOR CHANGE

By that time, the majority of African people in the United States were native-born, so the use of the term "African" became problematic. Though initially a source of pride, many Africans feared that the use of African as an identity would be a hindrance to their fight for full citizenship in the US. They also felt that it would give ammunition to those who were advocating repatriating black people back to Africa. In 1835, black leaders called upon Black Americans to remove the title of "African" from their institutions and replace it with "Negro" or "Colored American". A few institutions chose to keep their historic names, such as the African Methodist Episcopal Church. African Americans popularly used the terms "Negro" or "colored" for themselves until the late 1960s.

In 1988, the civil rights leader Jesse Jackson urged Americans to use instead the term "African American" because it had a historical cultural base and was a construction similar to terms used by European descendants, such as German American, Italian American, etc. Since then, African American and black have often had parallel status. However, controversy continues over which if any of the two terms is more appropriate. Maulana Karenga argues that the term African-American is more appropriate because it accurately articulates their geographical and historical origin.

Others have argued that "black" is a better term because "African" suggests foreignness, although Black Americans helped found the United States. Still others believe that the term black is inaccurate because African Americans have a variety of skin tones. Some surveys suggest that the majority of Black Americans have no preference for "African American" or "Black",although they have a slight preference for "black" in personal settings and "African American" in more formal settings

The United States is weird on labeling people. At one point all Europeans were not considered white, ironically at the same time Asians were considered to be white. They say white and black are skin colors, but at what point do we call Asians a myopic color. According to the United States Census, because I have North African ancestry, I am considered to be white.

Are Mexicans white?

The official racial status of Mexican Americans has varied throughout American history. From 1850 to 1920, the U.S. Census form did not distinguish between whites and Mexican Americans. In 1930, the U.S. Census form asked for "color or race," and census enumerators were instructed to write W for white and Mex for Mexican. In 1940 and 1950, the census reverted its decision and made Mexicans be classified as white again and thus the instructions were to "Report white (W) for Mexicans unless they were definitely of full Indigenous Indian or other non-white races (such as Black or Asian)."

During periods in U.S. history when racial intermarriage wasn't legally acknowledged, and when Mexicans and Mexican-Americans were uniformly allotted white status, they were legally allowed to intermarry with what today are termed non-Hispanic whites, unlike Blacks and Asians. They were allowed to acquire U.S. citizenship upon arrival; served in all-white units during World War II; could vote and hold elected office in places such as Texas, especially San Antonio; ran the state politics and constituted most of the elite of New Mexico since colonial times; and went to segregated white schools in Central Texas and Los Angeles. Additionally, Asians were barred from marrying Mexican Americans because Mexicans were legally white.

U.S. nativists in the late 1920s and 1930s (mostly due to the socially xenophobic and economic climate of the Great Depression) tried to put a halt to Mexican immigration by having Mexicans (and Mexican Americans) declared non-white, by virtue of their Indian heritage. After 70 years of being in the United States and having been bestowed white status by the U.S. government this was the first time the United States began to show true racist attitudes towards Mexicans in America something that usually came quickly to people of other races. They based their strategy on a 1924 law that barred entry to immigrants who were ineligible for citizenship, and at that point, only blacks and whites, and not Asians or Native Americans, could naturalize and become U.S. citizens. The test case came in December 1935, when a Buffalo, N.Y., judge rejected Jalisco native Timoteo Andrade's application for citizenship on the grounds that he was a "Mexican Indian." Had it not been for the intervention of the Mexican and American governments, who forced a second hearing, this precedent could very well have made many Mexicans, the majority of whom are mestizo, ineligible for citizenship. When mixed race Mexicans were allowed to retain their white status in American society they were unperturbed with the fact that the United States still continued its discriminatory practices towards Mexicans of full Indigenous heritage.

During the Great Depression, Mexicans were largely considered non-white. As many as 400,000 Mexicans and Mexican Americans were deported in a decade-long effort by the government called the Mexican Repatriation.

In the 2000 U.S census, around half of all persons of Mexican or Mexican American origin in the U.S. checked white to register their race (in addition to stating their Mexican national origin).Mexican Americans are the largest white Hispanic group in the United States.

The idea of color is a European colonial disease not an African one.

African is a racial origins term

Saying your Jamaican,Nigerian,Ethiopian,Canadian,Mexican, or Brazilian are Nations/Nationality

Saying Amhara, Sicilian, Irish, Yoruba, Zulu, or Han are examples of Ethnicities

African American is not an ethnic group but clusters of different ethnics from Africa in the Americas.

Black is nothing more than a class system designed by Europeans

Just because your born in Germany doesn’t change your race.

When do Asian people stop being racially Asian just because they moved to a different nation

So, why does this happens to Europeans or Africans

There is no such things as a black language, skin color, or names or even a black or nation called black

3K notes · View notes

cienie-isengardu · 3 years

Text

Lin Kuei: Art

RELIGION <> ORIGINS / ARCHITECTURE <> FOOD <> FOR THE LIN KUEI <> ART <> CRYOMANCERS <> LIN KUEI SOCIETY <> MONEY & MATERIAL GOODS

The continuation of the morgianesffs-blog’s list of questions about Lin Kuei. For the formalities, the original questions:

What do you think the Lin Kuei's view on artistic culture (probably not the right word) is? I know they are heavily militaristic, but in the game, Kuai Liang offers Hanzo tea and he properly prepares it the Japanese way, that says they have something of an education other than just related to fighting?

In contrast to religion as a belief in gods that Lin Kuei seems to constantly reject for ages, I think broadly understood art plays a more vital role in their culture.

Sadly, there is little direct source material in that regard - named Lin Kuei warriors rarely let themselves “waste time” to straightway talk about beauty of handmade artifacts or poems or music or other stuff fitting the definition of art. But as history proves time after time, art is an inseparable part of human existence and militaristic societies aren’t different in that regard from the peaceful ones. As far as games and some old material sources are concerned, Lin Kuei isn’t exception. Their aesthetics, symbolism and emotional value hidden between may not be eligible to outsiders but the amount of beautiful yet with no practical role decorations seen outside and inside Temple or well-crafted weapons and armors strongly suggest that Lin Kuei respected craft.

Frankly, martial arts and art (music, calligraphy, armorsmith, weaponsmith) have this in common: to achieve a satisfactory level of mastery, talent alone is not enough. Both require discipline, years of training and striving for perfection. What fits well into Lin Kue philosophy.

Mortal Kombat novel (1995) stated:

[Lin Kuei] would kidnap children when they were five or six and raise them in secret caves or woods to become superb athletes, great scholars, and unparalleled fighters, able to use all weapons and to improvise arms from common objects such as paper rolled to a knife-point or sand packed into a sock. They would train the children, boys and girls both, to be masters of many trades: carpenters, fishermen, priests, and even beggars, so they could blend in and make themselves useful in different towns as they traveled on missions for their lords.

This passage strongly implies comprehensive education, also in professions requiring creative/manual abilities (carpenters) or specific knowledge that may include familiarity of (religious?) art and philosophy. There is no way to tell how the education of adepts looks in modern time, but considering how well versed the warriors are in technology (C.I. project) chemistry (Cyrax’s bombs), anatomy (all brutalities & fatalities) or language (in Alternative Timeline English is not the native language of any(?) named Lin Kuei) we can assume it still covers a wide range of specializations. Making (practicing) art is related to creativity and manual skills, so it could be part of said education.

Another important role that art most likely plays is building and maintaining the common identity of Lin Kuei warriors. Because of that the interior of the Temple is decorated with a clan sign,

which also appears on their armor and weapons and even tattooed on their body (at least in MK Conquest TV series)

and, like was shown in Mortal Kombat Legends: Battle of Realms, the main(?) hall is decorated with statues of warriors. One looks like Sub-Zero,

although I doubt that it is a sculpture created in honor of the fallen Bi-Han. Unless it was created so quickly, I think it could be images of the clan's founders, or images of historically important warriors, or even an anthropomorphic representation of the elements (like ice) on which the clan's power was built.

Even if the warriors themselves were not involved in crafts, the Lin Kuei had skilled craftsmen equipping them with the necessary items.

There is also an aspect of sheer aesthetics that brings psychological comfort. Something that was definitely useful to warriors who lived under a lot of pressure. The beauty of rich ornaments and spacious architecture create a safe space to meditate or relax after difficult missions or close-to-death experiences. Likewise, art could be a safe (or at least safer) way to express themselves or deal with emotional trauma, in otherwise very strict society that can not stand weakness.

Interestingly, in additional sources like game cosmetics or win poses, Kuai Liang shows creative tendencies. For examples, his ice clones have various shapes even though there is no practical use of them in win pose:

Then we have the variety of his arsenal. As a cryomancer, Kuai Liang depends mainly on his ice power to create weapons. He can use anything at hand, freeze it solid and smash, slash or stab the opponent. To kill or injure an enemy, Sub-Zero does not need a sophisticated tool yet many of his MK11!axes have additional ornaments or more defined shape than it is really necessary:

All of the mentioned examples and the not discussed detailed ornaments on Sub Zero’s armors or even his style of speech (that may be influenced by some literature considering Jacqui’s accusation of “borrowing that line”) strongly suggests to me that Lin Kuei in general appreciates broadly understood art, especially the handicraft such as armorsmith or weaponsmith. This may also be one of factors why some warriors like Kuai Liang look down on technology and especially guns, a weapon mass produced and with no finesse.

As for the tea ceremony, by no means I’m familiar enough with Asian culture to say it for sure, but it didn’t look like Japanese brewing style to me. That and I highly doubt Kuai Liang would dare to do so in front of hot-headed, distrusting Hanzo who could easily read that gesture as Lin Kuei once again mocking him and his clan. Knowing how Sub-Zero wanted to make peace, I don’t think he would have taken such a careless step. Beside that observation, it is another example how well-versed and educated Kuai Liang is, even in matters that don’t have any military use.

In summary, I personally believe that art plays a vital role in Lin Kuei society. It helps in creating and unifying their warrior identity and pride in long-lived clan traditions, brings emotional comfort when needed and gives a way to express themselves (the fighter’s individuality) in safer, subtler ways. Even if warriors don’t craft weapons or armors themselves, there are specialized groups of people who provide them with the best quality craftsmanship. Because of course Lin Kuei demands and respect the perfection.

#mortal kombat #my replies #lin kuei #sub zero #kuai liang #i probably could talk more about sub zero and arts #or in general lin kuei and arts #but the text would be too long again #and i already made people wait too long for the answers #sorry :P #maybe next time i will talk more about the not discussed here stuff #if anyone will want that

78 notes · View notes

lustbile · 3 years

Text

Hunt

Vampire! TaeyongxReader

Word Count: 3.9k

Warnings: dom!taeyong, sub!reader. oral, biting, blood and slight cnc and degradation

Requested

Nct Masterlists

Multi group Masterlist

—

Your breathing is shallow and your eyes flutter open and closed as the cold of the room wraps around your almost naked body. The cool cement of the floor and the metal of the handcuffs that hold your hands tightly behind your back bites into your skin. All you can do is lay there, stuck in your own thoughts and shifting your legs around, as the seconds tick by slowly as you await the inevitable.

It’s not the first time you’ve found yourself in this position, your entire body laid flat on the floor of some random room, your shoulders aching from the weird angle the handcuffs force on you. Your entire body is bare aside from a thin pair of underwear.

Of course the first time it happened you panicked. You almost even got to the point of hyperventilating, but thankfully the first time he was more conscious of the shock you’d be experiencing.

But after it happened a few times, and you had learned just how well nights like this would end, you had come to learn just how nice it is to wake up alone in a dark room.

It was somewhere between 20 minutes to an hour when you heard the first hint of movement around you, the heel of his shoe scuffing against the cement of the floor so far into the dark you couldn’t even make out his silhouette.

“Taeyong?” you call out in a curious tone as if it could be anyone else in the world. The lack of response wasn’t surprising, but you just call out again using the same broken tone that you know makes whatever that pumps through his cold dead veins burn.

—

Taeyong seemed like just a sweet and normal guy when you first met him, and even now you’d argue that he truly is, and he just has his quirks.

You didn’t consider the time of night that you met him, you were out partying late into the night anyways so you just assumed he was doing the same. And he was just so cute, his soft smile and his dark eyes made your heart thud in your chest, and the way he grinned at you when this happened just made you think that it was probably fate.

Yeah you thought it was a bit weird when your dates only happened after the sun had disappeared, but you wrote it off as him being a night owl similarly to yourself. That was also the excuse you gave when your friend casually mentioned how he always looked a bit washed out and sickly. ‘Dude I just don’t think he gets a lot of sun,’ you had argued, and you weren’t technically wrong.

And he was such a gentleman, and so attentive and kind, that you were more than willing to just ignore his unusual characteristics, but the sex didn’t hurt when it came to you keeping him around.

His stamina was something you’ve never experienced in your life. His strong fingers always ready to explore your skin and his greedy mouth always following close behind. He had given you the strongest orgasm you’d ever had the first time his touched you, and seemed to one up himself every single time after.

You almost wished you were more shocked when he told you. His shaking hands and darting eyes made you nervous as all hell when he said he had something to tell you so many nights ago, but when the confession that he had died decades before finally left his trembling lips, it was like a huge weight lifted from your shoulders.

He almost seemed more shocked than you when you finally responded to his confession, a quiet sigh and a promise that him not being fully human didn’t change your attraction to him causing him to gawk and ask you more than a few times if you were absolutely sure. And after you shut him up with your mouth pressing against his and trailing down until it was wrapped around his length, he finally believed that you were in for the long run.

Your ready acceptance for something that always plagued the way he lived, was probably what made it easier for him to confess to you something else that was odd about him. And thankfully for him, you were just as willing to accept this new curve ball.

He liked the feeling of a hunt.

It wasn’t something he was actively proud of, he knew it was something animalistic and deep down inside him that developed sometime after the bite that turned him. His need to find prey to survive crossing with his hunger for a companion and sexual release, and giving him this clawed animal that lived in his gut and made him salivate the first time he saw you.

The way your heart fluttered and your eyes widened, he could hear the sweet blood rushing through your veins and it made his brain wild. You could barely believe that that was the way he had seen you when you first met considering how charming he was, but he swore that that night was the exact moment that he learned he needed you in his life and between his teeth no matter what.

He never gave specifics of what he wanted to do to you, you had developed enough of a trust within him that you didn’t feel like you needed the details. This fact only made him moon over you even more, as the element of surprise and shock would only get him more excited.

So yes the first time he did it, you were shocked, and until he revealed he was the one behind it you would admit you were more than a bit scared. But now that it's become a more regular thing, the only thing that made your heart slam against your chest was the anticipation for what he was going to do to you.

—

You called out his name one last time before he reacted.

The quiet ‘shhh’ he lets out from his spot in the corner of the room is the only thing he needs to do to make your muscles relax. Your shoulders sink to the floor and you begin to kick your feet behind you as you try to get ready for the real fun of the night to begin.

The heels of his shoes drag against the floor as he gets closer, the way you lay flat stopping you from seeing face as he walks up to you from behind. The only indication you get that he’s coming anywhere near you is the silence of the room that amplifies every minute sound he makes.

“Look at what trouble you’ve gotten yourself into,” his tone is nothing but taunting as he starts to circle your body, his cold words and how small he makes you feel as his eyes rake down your back makes you tremble against the cold floor and let out a small huff of air.

“Pretty thing like you should have never gotten involved with a monster like me huh baby?”

You can hear the slight ting of sincerity in his voice when he speaks, but the idea of consoling him and telling him he’s wrong is completely wiped from your mind at the next thing he does.

He’s stood between your still twitching legs when he finishes speaking, the term of endearment that he calls you so naturally is punctuated with him pressing his foot firmly on the space between your thighs, the tip of his perfectly shined shoe pressing into the dampened spot on your underwear and pulling a desperate whine from your lips.

“Crumble at any slight touch I give you, no wonder you keep running back to me,” he only presses harder as he speaks, pushing the front sole of the shoe up and down to cause just enough pleasure and small bites of pain that you start to tremble and pant.

He loves the way you start to break from just the smallest things right in front of his hungry eyes, but it’s when he notices you pushing back against his shoe and your fingers frantically curling and uncurling where they’re pressed against your lower back does he feel just the smallest spark of sympathy.

“Don’t even care that you’re so powerless in an empty room do you? As long as you get even the smallest amount of attention that’s all you’re worried about?”

He gives one last harsh push against your warm, sensitive skin, reveling in the cry you let out, before he slowly sinks down onto his knees behind you.

“Look at you, you poor sweet thing,” his cold hands wrap around both of your shaking thighs, his slender fingers digging into the skin strong enough to make the bruises that make his mouth water bloom.

The low temperature of his fingers and palms and the scratching of his bitten nails as they trail up your thighs and over the curve of your ass makes a shiver run up your spine, and the way he grabs onto your jittering hips to harshly tug you closer to him makes you gasp.

His lips are chapped and his tongue is soft when they land on the space between your shoulder blades, and your shoulders shift up towards your ears to the best of their ability with your hands still trapped together. It’s with the feeling of his saliva dripping on your bare skin and his elongated canines scraping against you as he moves down the curve of your spine, do you find your voice again.

“Please,” it’s soft and broken when it leaves your lips, the only word your muddled mind can conjure in the moment, the devilish smile he suppresses against your tailbone being a weak push for you to continue, “touch me, use me.”

“Dirty thing, I’ve ruined your mind haven’t I?” he sounds nothing but proud of himself when he speaks, any shame of the situation finally melting from his mind at the way you so easily settle into the personas he’s created.

You let out a quiet sigh of relief when you feel his lips mouthing at the skin of your hip as he pulls the band of your underwear between his teeth, the angle finally allowing you to grab onto a handful of his hair, just enough contact to his form to pacify you for the time being.

He’s not in control of the small growl he lets out as his sharp teeth begin to poke through the flimsy fabric, nor is he in control of the much louder growl that rips from him when he starts to shred it until it falls limply away from your body.

The room feels many degrees cooler now that you lay fully bare in front of him, aside from the few scraps of fabric that desperately hold to your skin as they became dampened from his saliva. You’re now capable of feeling just how excited you’ve become from the series of events when you shift your legs, though your movements are limited as he still holds onto you tightly.

“If there’s one thing I like tasting more than your blood,” he sounds dreamy as he mutters to himself with his eyes locked between your thighs, your body shifting and a grumbling whine following as you feel embarrassment flood your system, but he only laughs meanly in response.

His hands return to your thighs, and his thumbs move to pull at your skin to open you more for his greedy eyes. He takes a moment of appreciation, he always does when you’re like this, your body his favorite sight to lose himself to as he sees you as nothing but an otherworldly creature laid out in front of him like a meal.

There’s no verbal warning, only a shifting sound from his clothes as he leans closer and his tongue is dipping into you. The strength of the muscle always throws you off, and this time is no different. The way it pushes and moves against the nerves inside you has you gasping for the cold dry air around you, and your brow furrows above your tightly closed eyes.

Your thighs tremble as the sparks of pleasure makes you rise onto your knees just slightly, his relentless mouth following your motions as another animalistic growl vibrates against your skin. You can’t even process the discomfort you feel as your face presses more into the floor below you, as he takes advantage of his tongue slipping from you to flatten it against you and curling the tip of it to dig into your swelling clit.

The sounds that spill from your lips only return to you as the bounce off the walls of the hallow room, Taeyong happily swimming in the sounds of your pleasure as he drinks from you like he hadn’t had a single sip of water in the dozens of decades he’s lived.

He knows when you’ve begun to chew at your bottom lip, a fact that’s only vaguely disappointing as it muffles your sounds, but he finds the silver lining almost immediately as the pleasure he inflicts on you causes you to bite down hard enough to draw blood.

The moment the smell of the metallic liquid hits his nostrils, he feels himself losing the grip he has on his self control. The amount that bleeds from the minuscule cuts is so small, but even with his face buried between your thighs he can smell it so strongly as if he’s walked into a blood bank. Just the memory of the taste of it dancing on the back of his tongue makes him feel as if he is suddenly starving, and before he can even think, he’s pulling your clit between his lips and sucking harshly.

He moves with your erratic hips as if he can read the mind you’ve lost control of the moment he touched you, his tongue and teeth a level of unrelenting that has tears welling up in your rolling eyes.

Your hands fold into tight fists at the feeling of a promised orgasm biting at your lower belly, your arms flexing and shaking enough that he’s surprised you don’t build enough strength to break the handcuffs where they connect.

He only laughs at your weakening body as your lower legs start to kick out, your tightly curls toes bumping into his ribs as you release your lip and cry out into the room. He knows you’ve started to come, the way your body starts to slump in his hands and your hands begin to grasp at air again lets him know he’s gotten you in his favorite state of delirious pleasure and he has no interest in letting up.

He feeds off your yelps and cries almost similarly to the way he would your blood as he returns to lapping at your skin, soft hums of appreciation rattling his hollow chest as the taste of your orgasm coats his tongue.

He takes the moment of you being distracted by the overstimulation you receive from his tongue to work at his belt with one hand. His nibble fingers are perfectly capable of helping him multitask, as he uses his other hand to tangle with your bound hands and hold you against his tongue as your body tries to curl away.

You foolishly huff out in relief when he moves away from you and sits up, your knees shifting again as you try to make yourself more comfortable with your legs that have been reduced to jelly. You even let your back dip and stretch as his hands trail up your sides and his thumbs dig into your spine, but you only get a few stolen seconds of relief before your breath is knocked from you again.

You’re thankful for how sloppy he can be when he works you over with his tongue, the amounts of spit and come he leaves behind on and in you becoming a blessing when suddenly pushing into you with one sharp thrust. The way you stretch around him and the length of him so sudden that it almost feels like he’s splitting you in two.

The groan you let out is gravely from the way your throat was torn from the sounds you made before, and you lose any control you have as your eyes flutter and roll in your skull.

You’re flat on your stomach again, the slow but harsh thrusts he begins to subject you to wracking your nerves with so much pleasure you want nothing more than to simply melt into it. The only motions your body makes is the natural rocking from his hips and your muscles twitching and spasming with a mind of their own.

He leans into you, a laugh that borders on evil licking at your ears as he drinks in the way you look like a limp and pretty rag doll beneath him, the way you whimper and moan and the feeling fluttering around him being the only response you can give to the way he pushes into you.

“Poor thing, did I wear you out already?” under any other circumstances, you would have scoffed at how cocky he sounded when he spoke, the lack of exhaustion in his voice feeling almost like a slap to the face, but you’re pulled from your wallowing in self pity when one of his hands wraps roughly around your neck and tugs until your scrambling to lean against his chest, “you’re lucky I like doing all the work.”

It’s almost shameful the gasp of giddy relief you let out when you feel the softness of his belly on your fingertips through the button down he wears, the feeling of his physical form pushing against neglected hands overwhelming regardless of how minimal it is.

You're pulled from your innocent feelings of relief abruptly when you feel his other hand begin to move as well. His hips continue to bump and move against you unrelentlessly, and his roaming fingers finally land on your still buzzing clit with ease.

He pushes between your thighs seemingly unaffected by the way you subconsciously hold them closed, the calloused pads of his middle and ring finger rolling against the bundle of nerves at such a rhythmic pace you can’t help but feel as if he’s playing you like an instrument.

His breath feels like ice as he pants into your ear, his teeth playfully nipping at the shell and your lobe every few thrusts making you jump and shiver. You few light headed and even a little loopy as he squeezes at the sides of your neck to play with the blood flow your brain receives, and even though you’re aware that in reality you sit in a small empty building in a location that is completely secret to you, you feel like you float in heaven in his arms.

You feel the tears that dance along your waterline finally become too heavy, and when he angles his hips to push into the one spot that makes stars dance behind your eyes, they stream down your cheeks and leave your skin stained.

You move without question when his thumb presses against your jaw, your face turning to face him with a dopey smile filling your face when you see his familiar face for the first time of the night. The smile falling into your jaw hanging softly open when his tongue presses under the curve of your jaw bone and moving up until it flicks at the space the socket of your eye dips, the salty taste of your tears making him hum in a way that makes you feel dirty and loved.

He doesn’t remove his mouth from your skin, but rather starts to plant slick kisses starting at the high point of your cheekbone and moving down until your head tilts away from him and he’s mouthing at the skin that protects your thudding jugular.

You already feel so dizzily close to a second orgasm from how many forms of stimulation he assaults your body with, that the knowledge of what he’s only seconds away from doing has your heart slamming against your chest.

You know he can hear it, just as much as he can smell your hot blood as it runs through the veins that burn beneath your skin, and all it does is push him closer to his finish as well. He scolds himself for all those nights he’s begged the universe for a cure for what he is, or at least even a represent that would give him more self control, because in moments like this with you, he can’t feel anything but an animalistic pride and pleasure coursing through his dead veins.

He swears the roots of his canines burn as they sink into your neck without any resistance, you skin all but opening itself to his razor like teeth and relinquishing your source of life.

It’s a chain reaction, it is every time he’s bitten you like this. The sharp pain and burning that shoot across your neck and his amazing ability to keep fucking you through such an intense moment finally pushes you over the edge, silent screams scratching at your throat and forcing you to completely depend on the hold he still has on your neck.

And the way you curve against him, your walls fluttering and squeezing against him as you come and your clingy hands grabbing at the fabric of his clothes, is almost enough to get him to his finish. But it’s the taste of your blood, the gushing deep red spreading across his tongue and slipping down into his belly, feeding him and his orgasm at once.

He can’t stop his hips from moving as he fills you up, and his fingers are just as bad when it comes to carrying you through the blinding finish. Regardless of his colder body, you always feel warm and pliable against him, his groans and wet noises he makes against your neck feeding you almost as much as you feed him.

There’s a few more harsh twitches, your body using the last of its energy to feel every second of your orgasm, before you both melt into the others form with labored breaths. His teeth moving away from the skin they’ve damaged, and his soft tongue lapping at the skin and wounds until the bleeding stops.

It’s a still quiet as he pulls out of you and starts rearranging your worn form. Your skin screams in relief when the handcuffs are the first things to go, your hands unsurprisingly moving immediately to touch some form of his skin. Next his lips catch yours in a loving kiss, a feeling he knows you miss more than anything in moments like this, and he can’t help but the warm feeling he gets when you happily moan at the taste of your own body on his tongue, a intoxicating combination of your orgasm, tears, and blood weirdly tasting like home on his tongue.

In your obsession with his lips and tongue, he’s stood slowly, using his strength to bring your wobbly limbs and body with him. A hum of concern rumbling in his chest against you when you squeak at the slight pain.

“I’ve bruised you all up my little peach,” he speaks in a new tone that makes him feel like a completely different man in front of you, and you can’t help but curl around him and melt into the loving attention, “and you’re much too pretty to be in a dirty place like this, let’s get you home my little doll.”

#nct smut #taeyong smut #nct imagines #taeyong imagines #nct 127 smut #kpop smut #kpop imagines #I tried posting this like 10 times I’m ready to scream

319 notes · View notes

maxwell-grant · 3 years

Note

other than Godzilla, Mothra, and the creatures from Lovecraft, are there any iconic monsters and beasties from the pulps?

I do want to give a more thorough answer someday since monsters are much more of an area of interest of mine than pulps are, but for the time being, I'll name 10.

1: The Thing

A monster so iconic that most are not aware it was actually originated in a pulp story, titled "Who Goes There?", first published in Astounding Science Fiction before becoming a novel, then a movie, and then the John Carpenter remake. The Thing's popularity really speaks for itself. I could probably include other John Carpenter monsters here since I've talked before on how much of pulps came through in his films, but I'll leave it to just The Thing as it.

2: Bug-Eyed Monsters

Not so much a specific monster as a general category of pulp sci-fi monsters, usually predatory in nature, grotesquely oversized and described as bug-eyed, which were prevalent enough not just to become a stock archetype that's seen very popular usage outside of pulps, like Invader Zim, but to even be the name of horror anthology magazines

3: The Giant Woman

The almost literal poster girl for 50s pulp sci-fi/horror and all the hokeyness and parody that's usually afforded them nowadays, it's hard to think of the giant woman trope played straight for horror instead of a parody of the idea, or just as a fetish thing, and it's hard to think of them as much of a monster in the first place. Still, it's undeniably iconic, and it's a category of monster in it's own right, if only because of the sheer popularity of the poster for Attack of the 50 Foot Woman.

4: Brain in a Jar

Another type of monster generally associated with 50s sci-fi, the Brain in a Jar actually did come to life primarily on pulp magazines, enough times for it to practically constitute a character type in it's own right, showing up in stories written by Olaf Stapledon, Lovecraft, Gustave le Rouge and Otto Binder, and the rogues galleries of characters like Captain Future and Tom Shark, even being the protagonists of a couple of stories, usually as villains or tragic victims wanting to die.

5: Dinosaurs

Yup, dinosaurs as monsters is something that took off in the pulps, not surprisingly. While dinosaurs had been discovered as early as 1812-1820, it wasn't until the very late 1890s and the early 1910s that dinosaurs began taking off as great monsters of fiction, in works like Beyond the Great South Wall in 1901 which marks the first explicitly villainous dinosaur, Panic in Paris in 1910 which seems to be first on the works of fiction to feature scenes of dinosaurs rampaging through streets, and A Strange Manuscript Found in a Copper Cylinder from 1888 which is a "lost world" story that predates Doyle's by over two decades, and might have been considered the progenitor of the fantasy novel had it not debuted a year after H.Rider Haggard's She and King Solomon's Mines.

6: The Phantom of the Opera

I'm gonna avoid including human villains, but The Phantom's essentially become a sub-category of monster in it's own right, and he's definitely iconic enough to merit inclusion. My reasoning for him being grouped alongside pulp characters is because the original story by Gaston Leroux was actually published in serialized format as a feuilleton in newspaper Le Galouis, and as I've established before, feuilletons were France's pulp fiction, one of the very earliest examples of pulp even before the Americans got on it. It's hardly that surprising that Erik would be grouped among the villains and monsters of pulp fiction, considering the similarities between him and a certain shadowy avenger with a similar flair for theatrics.

7: Killer Robots/Cyborgs

Kind of self-explanatory, as they were practically the bread and butter of most sci-fi pulps pending towards horror. Although mentions of automata date from before the pulps, it was in their time that this rose to such pop culture prominence. The Nick Carter novels had what is considered the first cyborg in fiction. The term "robot" was coined by Karel Čapek, who became a pulp magazine writer. Robots and aliens were among the premier monsters of most pulp sci-fi stories, even if not necessarily their main villains usually. And speaking of aliens,

8: UFOs

While they predate pulps, the general idea of aliens as stock pop culture monsters first took life in pulp magazines. Murray Leinster’s First Contact, while it's aliens are not evil, coined the term "first contact" and provided a template for every story based around the idea ever since. The Martian Chronicles by Rad Bradbury is often credited by sci-fi historians as a pivotal event in the genre’s growing respectability and mainstream success. More famously, you had writers like Robert Heinlein, Edgar Rice Burroughs, Olaf Stapledon and Francis Flagg all striking several different speculations regarding aliens, a variety that ultimately ensured the alien's popularity as a new monster archetype.

9: The Headless Mule

Included here because I make it a point to reference one figure from Brazil's history, as cordel literature is our local equivalent to pulp, and the Headless Mule is one of the most famous monsters of our folklore and one of the most prominent stories across cordel. As cordel tends to revolve around folk poems, songs, tales and novels, monsters from Brazilian folklore tend to show up in those, and I intend on writing more extensively about them soon. The Headless Mule is one of the most popular and I'll paste a short description of her below:

The headless mule is, in fact, a woman, cursed after having sexual relations with a priest (regardless of whether or not she consents), who suffers a similar fate to the werewolf. On nights from Thursday to Friday, she turns into a dark-haired mule, with either a head shrouded in flames, or a perpetual flame for a skull.

She goes out riding quickly through villages, seven, to be exact, causing damage wherever she goes by either running over people and trampling and tearing them with sharp hooves, or burning any who approaches it's fire.

There is one way to free the woman from the curse: It carries a glowing iron curb in its mouth. If someone is brave enough to pull it out, the mule will transform back into a woman, never to change again.

10: King Kong

Proof of how irrevelant it is whether or not a pulp character was ever part of a pulp magazine. While Kong didn't start out in pulp magazines, nor was he published in one like Godzilla as far as I can recall, it's pretty indisputable that Kong and Skull Island have been extremely influential in much of pop culture's perception of pulp jungle adventures and giant monsters, influencing the creation of Godzilla and Mothra and the kaiju genre. Kong and Skull Island have had so, so many crossovers with pulp heroes that I'd be incredibly remiss not to include him, and so he's here as my final inclusion.

#replies tag #the thing #john carpenter #attack of the fifty foot woman #giant woman #brain in a jar #dinosaurs #pulp fiction #pulp villains #pulp monsters #phantom of the opera #gaston leroux #king kong #ufo #skull island

128 notes · View notes

cyncerity · 3 years

Note

I don't have any specific questions, but can we hear more about Ranboo in the dad's troubles au?

Yes!! I wanted to talk more about this au anyway!

also if I’ve said any of this in a previous post it’s because it’s been a while since I’ve looked at the posts for this au sorry

Ok so Ranboo has some memory issues (what did you expect), so he doesn’t go out for supplies as much as Tommy does. He doesn’t remember Karl or Sapnap’s routines at all (remember that the allium duo still lives in the fiancé’s apartment). So Ranboo mostly does lookout, hiding himself behind something that can be knocked over in case a human comes in, creating a distraction for them and an auditory hint for Tommy to get the fuck out of there.

Ranboo also still doesn’t like Tubbo’s dads. Quackity for obvious reasons that ifkyk, and if you don’t just know it has to do with v*re, and Schlatt because he’s just really tall and gives off a “make one wrong step and I’ll fucking kill you” vibe to anyone that doesn’t know him.

That becomes more of a problem when he starts hanging out in Schlatt’s apartment more, but he starts to at least give Schlatt a chance after he sees how hard he’s trying to make him feel at home in his apartment. Not Quackity, tho. He will not under any circumstance talk to Quackity, that man still scares the hell out of him. Quackity gets that and keeps his distance.

Ranboo also has a weird mix of borrower genes because he has normal circular irises and a thicker tail than Tubbo or Tommy has, meaning that his generation of borrowers mainly stayed at bases and built tunnels, furniture, stairs (basically whatever their bases needed), and occasionally defended homes, which is what Ranboo likes to do anyways (this doesn’t mean he’s good at it, he’s not a great carpenter, please look back to the gaming chair video for proof) so his genes fit him fine (they also kind of make him the tank of the group, since his genetics make him a bit harder to hurt). The only trait that he’s not supposed to have is his long elf-ish ears, which usually belong to hunter borrowers. (this goes back to what I once mentioned about there being sub-species of borrowers with different traits to fit different jobs, but borrowers obviously didn’t limit who they had kids with based on their job traits so they got all jumbled up over generations).

#cyncerity #mcyt gt #mcyt g/t #Dad’s Troubles AU

28 notes · View notes

elijahrichardwrites · 2 years

Note

Hiya! Happy STS~! I was reading through your blog and noticed you have a cool system of hybrid demons and the likes. Could you tell me a little bit more about that? And maybe about what inspired it ^^ from @/zonnemaagd~!

Hi @zonnemaagd, hope you're having a good day! I'll happily tell you more about those systems!

This answer is a little on the longer side so buckle up! Answer is under the cut (:

So basically, as explained in the lore post about Demons, are essentially creatures who have abilities related to fauna they have been designated to. So a good example would be the character Soz, a Mammalia (one of the four sub-types of Demons that specifically deals with the Mammal group of fauna) has been assigned the role of "Wolf" and therefore has abilities pertaining to wolves. So he's able to conjure wolves to his aid, as well as elongated his nails to use as sort of claws. He also is very good at tracking and has a keen sense smell. He also prefers working within a group rather than be alone, despite often being alone.

Demons also have a "true form" (something I don't think was mentioned in the post, not entirely sure) as the human form was once a disguise used long ago that has now become commonplace. So using Soz as an example once again, his true form is that of a giant wolf with three eyes on each side and one in the middle, as well has having fur as hard as steel. So his true form is related to wolves, same with pretty much every Demon in the universe. The only exception is those who were once something else before a Demon and Demon hybrids. Which that could be whole posts on their own but to make this only long answer short, it's because they had appearances as humans either before they became demons or born half (or less) demon, they're just unable to have "true forms".

There's honestly more I could talk about Demons in general but I'll spare you for now haha. As for what inspired them, I'm honestly not sure! I've always been fascinated with demonology and about the demons mentioned in the bible. As well as how demons are perceived in different types of media. Originally, the demons in this universe were somewhat stereotypical but it was actually the creation of the characters Soz and Micrathena that completely changed that, becoming what it is today!

Thank you so much for ask! Sorry I kind of went on and rambled haha. I hope I was able to give you some of the insight you were looking for!

#my asks #storyteller saturday #sts #nite & daye demons

2 notes · View notes

hobiwonder · 5 years

Text

mission impossible | (m)

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

Genre: Smut, crack.

Warnings: Oral, dirty talk, unprotected sex, overstimulation, slight degradation. dom/sub themes (jungkookie being a good boy and then... not so good lol)

Words: 9k+

Summary: When you find out that your groupmate is whoring it up on tinder instead of handing in his part of the project, you go on a mission to teach him a lesson. And maybe get him to finish his part.

A/N: hello!!!! thankyou all for waiting patiently. or maybe you’ve just forgotten about me lol. it’s been a while since i uploaded anything!!! I hope you enjoy this crack as much as I enjoyed writing fuckboy but still a movable baby!jungkook. please don't forget to tell me ur thoughts. feedback keeps me going :)

If it was something strange, it would happen to you. You were not just saying that because of the hint of narcissism in your personality that made you think that everything was about you. Oh no. You never seem to catch a break these days. And quite honestly, you should’ve expected your dose of absurd to be handed to you soon. It had been a week too long without any fatuous incidents and/or people happening to you. Was this just a y/n thing? Was every girl with your name cursed? Maybe it had something to do with your astrological sign. That always seemed to be the explanation of a lot of your friends who did not want to admit to their faults that would land them in hot water. The usual “oh it’s because i’m insert-star-sign”.

Were you really becoming that girl? Though it was hard to blame yourself for this one. Currently staring at your phone. More specifically, the defined abdominals of your group mate. A group mate who has not shown up to a single meeting. After a whole day of slaving away at your study desk, deleting and rewriting your discussion and evidential analysis to conclude whether or not it was a plausible inference that the movies, Whiplash and Black Swan were excellent cinematic representations of the ‘Obsessed Performer.’

Yeah. That was a mouthful. And you bet your right ass cheek that you were the only one out of yourself and Jungkook who had even watched the said movies. In the group of four, Jungkook and yourself were given the discussion and conclusion to write. The three of you who had been present at the initial group meeting had chosen your parts as was decided in the group chat prior. When all of you had received a text from Jungkook cancelling last minute, you’d snagged the conclusion as well as half of the discussion to write as just the conclusion would be a little too easy. And you had wrongfully assumed that your peer had been in some sort of ‘emergency’ since he always sounded like he was in a hurry to do something incredibly important.

You’d pitied the seemingly sweet looking boy and told him that you’ll work together on the last two sections of the paper. And his bastard self had always been all smile emojis and ‘yes :)’ and just all around misleading. Sounding like he was diligently working on his part by himself and definitely will turn everything into you by Thursday. Thursday was yesterday and you had not received even a single message from Jungkook about where he was in terms of progress on the 1000 words he needed to write. Message after message, you weren’t even being left on read. And in concern you had messaged your group chat that maybe he was facing some real life crisis to be so MIA. Until this.

Until you had picked up your phone about half an hour ago to mindlessly scroll through your instagram feed and then in the last 10 minutes had decided to also go on to tinder just to humour yourself. You were well aware that tinder was a cesspit of weird and unhinged men who would only be a good enough to make a youtube video about or a horror story texted to your best friend. You were speaking from experience. Decent men on tinder was like finding a luxury vintage dress in half good condition at a thrift store.

So when you’d swiped left for the 30th time - you’d finally come across the perfect face of someone very familiar. You’d almost swiped left on reflex before you’d brought the phone almost too close to see why the face looked so recognisable. Even without having actually ever met Jungkook face to face - apart from that first lecture - it was hard to miss that this definitely was him. Your mouth had fallen open, jaw just shy of touching your soft bedsheets. You’d found Jeon Jungkook on tinder. His perfectly coy smile staring right at you, the first few buttons of his black shirt open wide to capture your attention back to his smooth, muscular chest. Hastily dialling Momo’s number, you can barely contain your shock and anger and annoyance. All of it wrapped up in one powerful burst of dialogue that you subject Momo’s ears too.

“Bitch!!!” You can’t help screeching, mind boggled.

“What happened now? Jungkook finally reply to you?”

“No oh my god. I found his tinder. I found his tinder Mo. I found his tinder!” You were screaming again but you couldn’t help it.

You were missing a Jeon Jungkook to rightfully scream at so poor Mom was bearing the brunt of your anger and maniacal laughter because your brain was having a hard time believing your luck.

“Wait, seriously? Did you match him?” Oh wait. Of course. There was still another step.

Wordlessly you swipe right, hard skipping a few beats in anticipation. And when the screen shows that he swiped you right as well and that you could now message him, you’re laughing once more.

“So he did. Wow. What a piece of shit.” She’s also laughing albiet much more like a normal human being.

“I cannot believe this Mo. This fuckhead doesn’t read any of my messages for the last week and I find him matched to me on tinder?”

Just then, your phone vibrates. Telling Mo to hold on, you don’t want to believe that this is actually happening. You had just received a message from Jungkook. It had barely been a whole minute of you matching up with him on this app and he had already messaged you.

Jungkook: What has 36 teeth and holds back the Incredible Hulk? My zipper.

This must be a bad dream. Were the cameras of Punk going to start showing up form under your bed? Were you being punked? Not only was Jeon Jungkook just the worst partner out of all the group projects you had been in, he was most definitely a fuckboy. Who used terrible pick-up lines. Did he really not recognise you? Granted that your pictures were not the ones you had put up on facebook - it was still quite discernible that this was definitely you.

“Mo, he just sent me a horny pick-up line oh my god. I’m going to lose my mind.”

“Of course he did. I always thought he was a bit of a player. What did he say?”

When you read out the message, both of you are coughing from the laughter. This was too ridiculous and just very much like something that would happen to you. You had a group project due in less than two days and your group mate had turned out to be a bit of a horny bastard that was more concerned with getting his dick wet than messaging you back.

“You need to message him back, y/n. Pour the cold water on him already and tell him how badly he fucked up.”

“No way! I bet you he’s going to never message me back. At least on tinder i’m going to get a reply. Just how the hell do I ask him about the paper that he should’ve emailed me, like, yesterday? Ugh.”

“Just message him back, firstly. Or lose the only communication you just got. Do you know what dorm he’s in?”

“No idea.” Typing your reply and deleting it - much like your assessment that you were working hard on. Unlike him.

You: Hulk always was my favourite Avenger :)

“You did not just say that! Grossssss.” Yeah. Humouring fuckboys was exclusively for post 6 tequila shots Y/n.

Chuckling at your own response, you’re trying to keep your cool while trying to keep Jungkook’s attention so he doesn’t stop messaging you.

“Mo, wait. I just had an idea.”

“Please, y/n, violence is not the answer.”

“I won’t hurt him you knob. Okay talk to you later!” Not a lot anyway.

“I’m telling the police I don’t know you if they come around tomorrow! Bye!”

Making a face at your phone for good measure - you go ahead with your plan. There was no way you were letting Jeon Jungkook get away that easily. You’d been working so hard this semester. Harder than you have ever tried and you would not let his sloppy self to bring down your grade on an assessment that was worth 40% of your grade. Nearly half. Neither did the people in your group deserved it.

“Just you wait, Jeon. I’m going to kick your horny ass.”

Jungkook: let my Hulk destroy any traces of bad fucks you’ve had.

Your eyes are almost bulging out of your head at his brashness. Did he really just ask you to fuck? This is the second thing he has said to you and it’s him asking to fuck you. You can’t believe how much of a textbook fuckboy he was. When you haven’t responded for a few minutes, you get another message form him.

Jungkook: if that was too forward ^-^

Jungkook: then what i said was a lie lol.

Jungkook: I'm probably the best fuck you’ll ever have.

You cannot believe your eyes. With each message, Jungkook is either confusing you or making you shake your head at how exactly like all the other boys on tinder he is. This was hands down, the longest conversation you have had with Jungkook directly. In the group chat he generally adressed everyone, shooting haphazard apologies right before meetings. Saying he would not be able to make it. It had frustrated you to no end as the date for submission got closer and closer. And to see him reply quicker than you, on tinder no less, was beyond infuriating.

You: Well then. Prove it.

You: Where do you live?

You doubted that Jungkook would be reluctant to give you his address. That’s just not something you see happening. Maybe he preferred to go to the girl’s place? That wouldn’t matter to you either. Though convincing him to bring his laptop with him would be a challenge but you were fine to let him work on your own. There was no way you were letting him go without coughing up his part.

Jungkook: you sure?

You: wanna fuck. Hurry up.

Jungkook: you’re so sexy :)

You were going to literally lose it. Not sure why you were biting the inside of your cheek so hard to stop yourself from laughing at his messages. Jungkook was the epitome of a snapchat fuckboy. It was much more hilarious than you anticipated. You were expecting to be feeling the singular emotion of sheer hostility. But you were having too much fun with this. Especially when you weren’t going to actually fuck him but seeing how eager and self-assured he was, this was all the more pleasant.

Jungkook texts you his address and you let him know that you’ll be there in around 20 minutes. He lived surprisingly close. Though him staying in an all male rich residential college was definitely not a surprise. Only kids with a lot of disposable income and no worries of being evicted avoided doing any actual school work. The rest of you were not privy to such luxury. The more you thought about it the more you knew how gratifying it will be to show up at Jeon Jungkook’s door with a pile of notes and your laptop. He was in for a treat.

Dressing in that one little black dress you had was only part of the plan. An attempt to fool him one last time before you handed him the checklist of what he had to do. You shrug on a large jean jacket that fell below your bottom to conceal your provocative dress, grab your bag after stuffing all the necessities and then set out the door. Dialling Momo’s number, you let her know where you will be incase anything happens. You could never be too careful.

“Yo, I’m going to Cornell college. Jungkook apparently lives there so I’m going to meet him.”

“Are you serious? He told you his address?!”

“Sure did.”

“I pray for his soul.”

“He made me suffer far longer! Whose side are you on, traitor?!”

“Yours but knowing you, he’s in for a LOT. Okay stay safe.”

“Yeah yeah. He needs to be safe not me.”

“Yeah that was what I was saying. Anywhore. have fun.”

“Bye.”

The closer you get to the college, you are starting to hear loud music. Was this even allowed on colleges? Were there not any volume restrictions given what time it was and the fact that it was managed by onsite staff? Arriving on the level Jungkook told you his room was, 4th, the music is even more noticeable. The sign pointing to the common room was where most of the bass was coming from and you guess maybe there is a function going on. Though the closer you walk, you realise that this was not just any event. This was a party. The cracks in the door gave away to the activities happening inside the large hall. Deciding not to wait any longer, you text Jungkook again. Being as serious as you can be to get him to meet you outside instead of carrying your backpack with you inside.

You: I’m here to fuck, not party.

Jungkook: it’s a good party tho. We can slowly take it back to my room ;)

You: I’ll find someone else.

You hope he takes your bluff.

Jungkook: love it when you order me around baby.

Jungkook: don’t forget who’s in charge. Me.

You can’t help but roll your eyes, still smirking at your phone. No matter what your initial intentions were, you had to admit that playing with Jungkook was fun. He was unacceptably attractive and looked like the type of guy you would reduce to tears. But none of that tonight. You had to stay focused. You’re about to type another message to speed him up but he beats you to it.

Jungkook: room is unlocked. go in. i’ll be there in a minute.

Letting out a whoosh of air you’d been holding, you head down the hall, further away from the heavy bass and the party music. Somewhat hesitantly, you open the door to the room number he gave you. Nothing out of the ordinary. His room wasn’t messy. It was tidy. No sign of books. Just a bunch of sketches and film negatives strewn about on his study desk. Shamelessly, you snoop around, trying to find any evidence that he studies at all. So far, you’d only found an industry grade recording mic, two different types of cameras and some more unused camera reel.

Getting out your notes and the checklist you were going to hand to Jungkook, you get everything ready for when Jungkook arrives. You were not going to let him get away with this. Just another minute later, you can hear the footsteps getting closer. And for a moment, so does your heartbeat. You were quite confident in yourself but there was always a chance that Jungkook was more than a harmless oversexed college boy. All of the very rational fears are thrown out the window, however, as soon as the black mop of hair comes into view. Jungkook was incredibly handsome. Even moreso than his pictures. His hair was longer than the last time you saw him months ago. The long strands of inky black hair fell endearingly in his face, just to the middle of his eyes, parted right in the middle and curling slightly. He wore a long sleeved shirt with hip-hugging jeans that almost made you drool visibly. The saliva was positively pooling in your mouth but you swallowed it quickly to avoid embarrassment.

Now, you were angry. You really were. You needed this assessment finished so you could start on other projects and without Jungkook finishing up his part, there was no way you would have finished yours on time. But you would be a bold faced liar if you didn’t admit that you were oh so tempted to abandon your vendetta and not ride him like a bronco. You could tell that unfortunately, unlike other men who strutted about with empty words - Jungkook would be the best you would have in a while.

And when he smiles, it’s not any easier.

“Hey you.”

“Hi.” Desperately trying to keep your voice even, you smile coyly.

Jungkook locks the door, running a hand through his hair before he stalks towards you. Confident as ever. You bite your lip, baiting him even further before you strike. Just when he gets close enough to you, you hold out an arm to keep him from touching you.

“God, you’re even more sexy in person.”

“Uh-uh, be patient.” He’s blissfully unaware, just smirking in return as he watches your hands roam his chest before going up to his face. Taking a step closer to him, you rake your nails up his neck, leaving little white lines from the scratches.

“Close your eyes, Jungkook.” Jungkook, ever the obedient boy, closes them quickly. Awaiting your next move.

You can’t help yourself when he looks like this. Completely immersed in the feel of your hands. He was a good few inches taller than you but your platformed sneakers made it easier for you to teach him a lesson. His dark eyelashes kissing the tops of his cheeks, face so relaxed you would think he’s sleeping. You deserved to play a little at least, right? Leaning forward, you stop with the internal rationalising and just make the move.

Your lips meet his in a fiery kiss. His stoic figure melting as soon as your lips lock, hands grabbing at your waist while his tongue grazes your bottom lip. Jungkook is moaning in the kiss like he’s taking his first gulp of water after roaming the desserts. Momentarily, you forget your purpose for even being here in the first place. Wrapping your hands in his tempting long tresses and pulling, making even more sweeter noises to spill past his lips. He’s panting and restless. Moving his body against yours like he’ll die without it. Moving him backwards, you push him agains his swivelling study chair that was conveniently faced the right way.

His hands are all over you as soon as he’s down on the chair with your legs straddling his thighs on either side. All you can feel are his lips and his tongue and his hands. All over you, sliding your jacket off your shoulders to travel his kisses down another path. The desperate intake of oxygen is enough to bring your head back in the game, barely. With Jungkook nipping away at the now exposed skin of your shoulders and neck, it’s hard for you to stay focused. Especially when the hard tent in those sinfully tight jeans is now pushing against your softest part. He’s impossibly hard and you’re impossibly soft down there. It’s a lethal combination because neither of you can live without the other being pressed against each other. When you push down on him he pushes his hips up with even more ferocity, moaning louder with every illicit rub of the thickness between his thighs.

You’re addicted to the feeling and not sure how you’ll centre yourself enough to do what you actually came to do. God was really making you eat your words, huh? You were so close to ripping all his clothes off and fucking his brains out. You bet he’ll make the prettiest sounds when you ride him. His whimpers and moans just from gyrating up against you were enough of an indication. Sliding your hands back up in his hair, you yank it back from your neck to see his sweaty, glistening face looking up at you. He looked slightly inebriated. You had tasted the traces of vodka in his kiss but you had a feeling that a lot of his current state had to do with you and not the liquor.

“Jungkook?” He shamelessly rut his hips against yours, not fully hearing you, lost in his own lusty haze.

“Yeah?” Your lips close around the soft cartilage of his earlobe, tugging and flicking with your tongue, illiciting more salacious noises out of him.

“How’s the assignment coming along?” It takes him a few seconds to respond but the urgency with which he was pawing at you has slowed to a halt like a broken down car.

“Huh?” Pulling back completely, you stare him right in his twinkly eyes that look like a deer caught in the headlights.

“The paper you’re writing on modern cinema?”

“How... how do you know about that?” You smile at him sweetly. Before you flick him across his forehead.

“Ow! What the hell?”

“I should be saying that you harlot!”

“Harlot? really? You were all over me just now. You are all over me!” You’re surprised he knows the meaning of the medieval insult.

“Don’t try and weasel out of this! I’ve been waiting for your finished part since yesterday!”

“Wait... you’re y/n, y/n?”

“Took you long enough.”

“With your tongue down my throat? I wonder why.” You cannot believe you are arguing with a boy whilst still in his lap with his hands holding on to your waist.

Jungkook is trying his hardest to deflect and make you seem like the desperate one when he had been the one to want to fuck you from the get go. Getting off his lap, you fix your dress, tugging it down a little since the assault from Jungkook had almost bared your ass. Jungkook is still sitting in his study chair, dumbfounded.

“Finish your part of the discussion Jungkook. I have to write the conclusion and submit the paper.”

He is still staring. And now your eyes are travelling down to his thighs. Particularly the large bulge a little further up. A very substantial bulge that makes your mouth water once more.

“Jungkook!”

“Sorry, what? I just had a dream that a crazy girl tried to get me to do my homework right before we were going to fuck.”

“Listen here you little shit,” You grab Jungkook’s chin, gently despite his theatrical reactions, tilting it up to look you in the eyes. His reactions are so comical you almost laugh. “I’ve worked too hard for you to just give me piss poor, last minute effort. I’m here until you finish it.”

“You cannot be serious.” Letting go of his chin, you step back, folding your arms against your chest for good measure. Raising an eyebrow for him to challenge you.

“You expect me to write a thousand something words with this,” He points between his legs, you roll your eyes, “still here? No way.”

“I don’t remember giving you a choice, pretty boy.”

“You think I’m pretty?” So pretty. But he didn’t need to know that. You swivel his chair around back to face his desk.

“Less talk and more work!”

“Y/n, you can’t- can’t make me!” He’s throwing his hands around like a child and it’s a little too cute for an annoying boy like him who’s put you through so much anxiety. Sitting on his bed, swinging your legs as your eyes look around at the paintings, you let him huff and puff.

“Oh yeah? Guess I’ll have to call the cops because of the weed you have.”

His nose scrunches up adorably. “I don’t have any weed.”

“But I do. Who will they believe?” His eyes widen once more as he realises what you’re saying.

“Are you seriously blackmailing me?” You nod, smiling brightly. Jungkook turns back around, head in his hands as he mutters to himself how his tinder hookups are always crazy.

“Hey! I wouldn’t be here if you did your work! or replied to any of my messages.”

“Um, I was going too? I was busy.”

“Taking vodka shots? Yeah I could tell.” The mention of the kiss is bringing a rosy flush to Jungkook’s cheeks. Such an uncharacteristic reaction for a guy with his looks and his confidence.

He was that much more appealing to you because of how he contradicted his own personality. You knew he was one of those boys who acted all tough but secretly wanted to be bossed around. Told to do this and that. Made uncomfortable and maybe slightly humiliated. They lived to please. And the way Jungkook had melted into your body almost as if asking for guidance earlier, you knew he was exactly like that. He may not even know it yet but you could have him in the palm of your hands in a matter of minutes.

“What do I get in return?” He’s still grunting his disapproval, but looking through the notes you put on his desk anyway.

“A good grade and a life longer than 22?”

“You’re crazy.”

“All the more reason for you to be quiet and work!” He pouts at you before quietly looking through the notes and logging into his laptop.

When you’re satisfied he’s actually working, you lay down on his bed, making yourself comfortable knowing that it will take him at least an hour to finish his part. You had practically handed him all the points, he just had to write his own opinion and synthesise the evidence you had collected. The part of discussion required each student in the group’s own thoughts and thus you couldn’t just make them up on Jungkook’s behalf. Nor did you want to. You were done doing two people’s work back in your freshman year. These were advanced level classes and you weren’t going to ruin your grade because of one person.

Thirty minutes later, you’re almost about to doze off when you see Jungkook getting up from his chair in your periphery. Sitting up in a flash - though a little dizzy - you point an accusatory finger at Jungkook. Said boy has stopped mid-standing up.

“Don’t you dare Jeon! Get back in that chair and finish your work.”

“Jesus.” He’s holding his head in his hands once more before he starts whining again. “Y/n, please. Can’t I just do this tomorrow and send it to you then?”

You think about it. You do. “And have you go off the face of the planet again? No way.”

“Please.” He drags out the syllables, pouting and blinking up at you and it almost works.

“No. Not a chance. Just finish it ASAP and I’ll edit it. But finish writing it. The sooner you’re done the quicker I’ll be out of your hair.”

He glares at you. And not the scary, tough man glare that might make you slightly nervous and fidgety that you’re getting on his nerves. It’s a glare a kid gives you when you tell them no more TV or no more xbox. It’s the most adorable thing you’ve seen Jungkook do tonight. Or maybe you’re just sleep deprived. Either way, you wanted to kiss the hell out of him. But you turn your head away, faux annoyance ebbed into your features as you wait for him to start writing again.

It works for another half hour, Jungkook now actually typing more than he’s complaining. It was only a thousand words that he had to write but there was a lot of information that needed to be condensed in those thousand words which meant he was typing and then deleting, repeating the process again and again until he looked to be halfway through. You were impressed at how much he was getting done. Maybe it was your watchful gaze that was making him perform at his peak. You were now just hoping that whatever he wrote was actually plausible and not just rubbish to get you out of his room.

“I can’t believe you’re making me work with a boner. You could’ve at least gotten me off.” His pout his still there as he types casually.

“Stop being a brat and keep working.”

“Yeah? You’re going to make me write lines? ‘I am a brat’.” He chuckles to himself like he’s burnt you to a crisp with that one comment.

Taking your hand off of your face, you sit up. You watch the way his biceps bulge under his shirt as he types away at his laptop, legs splayed wide under his desk as he supported a semi. It was still a sizeable dent but nowhere near as daunting looking as before. But none of that diminishes your desire for him. You watch him talk to himself quietly as he types, but now stuck somewhere as he types and deletes and then types a sentence again.

You’re not sure what sets it off. Maybe it’s your frustration or that you think he owes you something more than just this. Maybe it’s the way he’s sitting? There are a lot of reasons you can use to justify your serious and formidable attraction to him. But you cannot deny that it was him from the get go. Just him in all his submissive glory that made you attracted to him. And that attraction was now getting the best of you. Maybe it was time to torture him in another way.

“No. I’ll do something much more to your liking.”

His head turns back around fast, fingers halting at his keyboard while he inspects the drunken look in your eyes. Slowly, you spread your legs, hands bracing yourself as they clutch the sheets on either side of you. Your heart is racing at the look in his own eyes. Primal and needy.

“Get on your knees Jungkook.” His chest is rising and falling much quicker than yours. Like he’s holding himself back.

You patiently wait for him to listen to your instructions, watching him. Never breaking eye contact. You know it’s new to him. It’s too obvious for you to deny it. But you relish the look of surprise every time you say something he doesn’t expect. Slowly, get’s up from his chair. Never taking a step further as he drops to his knees, crawling forwards until he’s right infant of you. The room is not that big at all so it doesn’t take him long. Now, his wide, doe eyes look at you. Inquisitive and aroused and it turns you on even more. He’s all man with hard ridges and bulging muscles but the way he’s looking at you right now makes you feel like at the centre of his world.

“Are... are you going to- to make me eat your pussy?” the explicit question sends your nerve endings on fire.

You’re a second away from grabbing his hair and shoving him right between your legs but the way his soft mouth says the dirty words - it makes you feel a very different kind of way. Now it’s you who can’t stop staring at him. Thinking about what else he has up his sleeves. You expected him to be vocal but never this. He is bold and shy all at the same time.

“Would you like that, Jungkook?” His eyes drop between your legs again, watching the way your panties cling to your increasingly wet folds.

Jungkook is moving between your legs more, eagerly nodding so the strands of his fringe rustle up and down in his face. His arms are going under your thighs, gropping them for good measure before he looks up at you with those eyes again.

“Please.” He’s almost whispering, longing lacing his every word. “Please, y/n. Please let me taste you. ‘wanna taste you.”

His words have turned into pleas and the pleas turn into kisses alongside your inner thighs and then any place Jungkook can get his lips and tongue on. Everything else is forgotten. It’s just you laying on his bed while Jungkook tries to get a taste of you anyway he can. His lips travel up to your covered mound, never daring to move the piece of fabric holding him back from his destination. Opting to only kiss over it, lick his way up your clit through the thin cotton that’s now moulding to your swollen folds.

“Do- do you deserve it, Jungkook? For putting me through so much h-headache? Oh.” Your moans accompany almost every word. Fingers laced into Jungkook’s luscious hair as he continues his hurried tasting of your arousal.

His response is mumbled between your legs. You watch his veiny hands repeatedly grab at the flesh of your thighs. Kneading it desperately like he’s trying to distract himself from doing something else entirely. A yelp leaves his mouth at your tug on his hair. Pale skin covered in a thin sheen of sweat. He looks like an addict when he is looking at you like you’re giving him his fix and God, you want to kiss his swollen lips.

“Answer me, brat. Do you deserve anything from me?”

“N-No.”

“Right. Yet you’re still begging to taste me like the needy little slut you are. Hm?”

Jungkook is whimpering, his lids fluttering. He doesn’t expect the smack across his face, a little too hard for what you had originally aimed for. The surprise is evident and for a moment you’re worried he’s going to be upset. Instead, his breathing is picking up even further.

“Answer me when I speak to you.”

“Y-Yes... Noona.” The breath is almost sucked out of you at his timid tone. And it only makes you want to push him further.

“Good boy.” His eyes are lighting up at the praise like hundreds of little galaxies called them home.

Sliding down towards the edge of the bed, you let your legs hang off, letting your toes touch the floor. Jungkook is still on his knees, watching you manoeuvre yourself around his bed before you reach for the hem of your dress. Watching his every facial expression as you strip. He looks up at you wide-eyed, taking in your soaked underwear and the thin black bra where your nipples pointed right at him. You can see his hands twitch by his side. You’d pushed them off you when you’d changed your position and were surprised at how calm and obedient Jungkook was being. Contrast to how much of an argumentative brat he was. But you had a sneaking feeling that he liked it when you called him that.

You were trying to remain calm yourself. Not give too much away on the dilemma you held inside your head. Thinking if you should take this any further. Though it was a little too late now, you guess. You were practically naked, wetter than ever before as Jungkook watched you with his wide doe eyes. Hunger evident with every flit of his gaze. You would feel cruel if you stopped at this point. So you let the rational part of your brain take a backseat and letting the consequences of tonight berate you in the morning after. Sliding your palms down your stomach, straight inside your soaked panties, you stroke yourself ever so slowly. Holding his heated gaze with cloudy eyes.

“Noona...” It sends another jolt of arousal throughout your already overheated body. He’s biting his plump bottom lip, sliding his hand up and down carelessly on to his erection that had grown considerably in the past fifteen minutes. Jungkook looks like the embodiment of desperation and it makes you rub yourself a little faster. Every time your fingers come in contact with your sensitised clit, you bite the urge to buck your hips brazenly.

“Yeah, baby? You want to see?” You hold out your wet fingers to him and in a flash, you feel his warm mouth around your digits. He moans loudly like he’s been relieved after years of drought.

“M-More. Please, Noona. I’ll do anything please, please.” Now that didn’t take long. Chuckling at his agonised face, you throw your head back, enjoying the relief your own fingers brought.

But you were torturing yourself too at this point. You wanted to replace your small fingers with Jungkook’s bigger and more vascular hands. You remember the view of his body from the glorified hookup app. Knew what he was hiding under the baggy shirt. The sweet whimpers and ‘please’ sounds coming from him were a delicacy on their own.

“Take my panties off then. With your mouth. Don’t use your hands... or else.” Your tone is stern enough to give you that satisfying flash going through his eyes.

In seconds, he’s leaning forward on his hands and knees, eyes never leaving yours as he bites the cotton on your hips, dragging it down. The act itself is a little clumsy. In his haste, Jungkook is taking twice as long should he use his hands. But something about his complete compliance, his willingness to be accepted by you and his utter devotion to pleasing you is the ultimately your undoing. This may be a power trip but you were thoroughly getting ruined during it.

At last, the cotton has reached your ankles. Quickly, you shrug off your dress as well, completely naked. He’s placed small kisses in greetings before he takes them off completely. Out of breath and out of his mind. The glazed look has taken a permanent vacation in his eyes and you were getting high on it. Jungkook was a communicator. If it wasn’t his mouth relaying the naughty words to you then his eyes were holding yours hostage, smouldering.

Bracing your hands behind yourself and never breaking away from his eyes, your ankles part. Jungkook’s eyes are automatically falling on the mess between your legs but he doesn’t dare move. Awaiting your instructions. Jerking your chin towards his general direction, you silently bring his attention back to his overly dressed self.

“Lose the pants.” His hands make fast work of his jeans. Falling back on to the ground to push them off.

“Uh-uh. Keep them on.” His eyes widen at your command to keep the underwear on. You weren’t about to just let him have it.

Not yet.

“Noona...” The high pitched noise of protest only makes your nostrils flare. You wanted to live out your every dirty fantasy with him if he sounded this sweet with just watching. The desire was making your head spin and your palms sweat.

“Yeah?”

“Please... I’ll do anything.” His eyes twinkle in the dim light as he kneels infant of you.

“I’ll eat you out for hours, let you sit on me face until I can’t breathe. Let you ride my tongue until you can’t cum anymore. Just please... fuck me.” The last two words leave him in such agony that for a second it truly sounds like he’s in pain.

Which is ridiculous given the ted talk he just gave on the Perfect Words To Say to Ruin Y/N and Her Panties. You’re the one currently in pain from clenching your jaw so tight. Resolve like a skinny rubber band about to snap. Dirty talk was the chink in your armour. And by the way Jungkook’s face lit up and his words became a lot more sure and confident, you knew that he was weaponising his skill to control you fully. And you needed to put him in his place before you gave up your pride and rode him until you ran out of stamina or died from your body overheating. Whichever happened first.

“Get up.”

“Fuck yes-“ Jungkook’s blubbering about how you’re the hottest person he’s ever seen and that he knows he can blow your mind while you push him back on the bed and straddle his meaty thighs. When he begins to push down your panties, you push his hands off and rest them on his sides.

“Keep them there or you won’t be coming. Understood?”

His curls bounce around his face as he nods, chest heaving when he looks at your hips move over the biggest bulge you’ve felt under you. You would’ve thought that he’d stuffed his underwear with socks if you couldn’t feel the burning heat his cock was pressing in to you, even through his boxers. Each roll of your hips pressed him to your every crevice like two puzzle pieces fitting in to complete the picture.

“Oh fuck-... You feel so good noona. I-I’m going to cum if you keep going.” He’s resorted to use his hands at his sides to push him upwards, pressing himself with every gyrate of your hips downward on him.

“Yeah? you’re gunna cum from just this? Is noona making you feel really good?”

Jungkook is lost in soaking up every sensation like a drunkard. Gaze not leaving where your hips met. Furrowing his eyebrows in deep concentration as he thrust his hips up, rocking you off balance slightly. Your hands slide into his sweaty curls, pulling them hard enough to yank his beautiful face up and close to your own.

“Answer me what I ask you a question.” And he whines. Or moans. Nevertheless it’s a lethal mixture of the two and you’re about to kiss him senseless.

“Yes. I-I feel really good. Noona is- oh fuck- g-gunna make me cum.”

“And are you going to?” He looks up at you nervously, trying to speaking amidst every roll of your flaming core onto his dick. It was getting harder and harder for you to speak as well.

“N-No?”

“Good. Because only good boys get to cum. Not needy sluts like you.”

Now Jungkook whimpers like a wounded animal. Because you’ve upped the ante. Holding onto his shoulders while you grind down on his throbbing cock just the right angle so your clit is receiving the mind-numbingly pleasurable stimulation. You were going to cum any minute and it looked as if he was too.

“F-Fuck. I’m going to cum Jungkook. Your cock feels so good.”

“Noona please. Please s-stop. I-I’m going to cum-“

“That’s not my fucking problem. If you want me to fuck you then you better not. Understood?”

He looks utterly panicked. Torn between letting himself go to the unbelievable pleasure of this act alone and wanting to hold back and obey your every command. Jungkook’s lip is bitten red, chest heaving and eyes watering as he watches the erotic sight of your brazen bouncing on his lap. You’re putting on a show just to make it that much more difficult for him to hold back. But he somehow does. Watching your face contort with pleasure as your head is thrown back. Your moans are loud and lewd. Designed just to rile him up to the point of breaking.

“Oh god. I’m- I’m gunna cum baby.” With a shout, you’re riding out wave after wave of the liquid pleasure running through your veins like molten gold.

It takes a solid minute for your eyes to focus on a singular object. Or a person. More specifically, an incredibly handsome, glistening, starry eyed, muscular, put-micheal-angelo’s-david-to-shame, strikingly adorable man. Jungkook looked on the verge of losing his sanity. Yet, he didn’t stop watching you collect yourself, flicking the stray strands over your shoulder before you pressed your mouth to his.

You brought your mouth to his and kissed him hungrily. When your lips met, you heard him make a tiny sound. His body went rigid, and he wasn’t reciprocating. You think it might have been down to shock, though, because when your tongue slid past the seam of his lips, he opened them willingly and trembled against you.

Your fingers dug into his thighs, and he pulls you closer. You were on fire, felt like you were melting into him. Never before had a single kiss gotten you so worked up. She tasted like chocolate and strawberries. Jungkook rocked forward, and then you felt his tongue move expertly against yours. Of its own accord, a groan emanated from deep in your chest. When he brought his hands to your neck and massaged your throat, you whimper. He was hard as a rock and you finally wanted to reward him for holding out this long.

He’s chasing your lips when you break away, sliding his kisses down your neck as if breaking the contact will be fatal for him. “You did so good baby. Such a good boy.”

The praise seems to rejuvenate his body. Not that he needed to. He was bursting at the seems with testosterone. The longer he went on without a release, the more unhinged Jungkook seemed. The incongruence of his raw masculinity with his alarmingly meek behaviour towards you was something you didn’t understand but it affected you the most. He surprised you with every move and you wanted nothing more than to own him completely.

Jungkook makes a noise in his throat at the praise, sliding his hands down to caress the globes of your ass. “I’ve been a good boy. Now fuck me.”

His words are steady, deliberate and to the point. Scratch everything you said about Jungkook being meek. They send shudders down your spine where his hands reside. This was a man who looked on the verge of tearing something apart. And judging from the current situation, he was going to be tearing you apart. You’d let him, gladly. But being the cocktease you are- you push him even more.

“And if I don’t, little boy? Gunna beg?” A heartbeat later, you’re the one on the soft mattress and it’s Jungkook that’s hovering over you.

He shrugs nonchalantly. “Then I’ll fuck you noona.”

You’re not too mad because you’re wetter than before and the change in his demeanour has you besides yourself with the need to feel him inside. Jungkook’s teeth are tugging on your hardened nipples. Circling them with his tongue before sucking the puffy buds tenderly. The pressure of his suction is so delicious that you might just cum from this.

“God! Jungkook, b-baby please. Fuck your noona.” He grins around a nipple, hands sliding inside your soaked core.

“I don’t know. Maybe I should make you wait like you made me. Hm?”

“Don’t be a brat. I’ll stuff your mouth next time with a sock Jeon J- oh fuck!”

He’d slid down your body, his kissing every inch. Your stomach, your hip bones, your thighs.

“I’d rather it be your pussy.” He whispered, bringing his mouth to your wetness, and then licked.

“Ahhh,” you cried out, clutching a handful of his hair. Jungkook chuckled and went at you in earnest. You were so soft and silky beneath his tongue. He met your gaze from below and came up for air. Jungkook watched you for a second before dipping his wet mouth lower again. The noises of your arousal pornographic. He saw you fist the sheets in your hands, your hips rising up off the bed when he sucked your clit into his mouth and flicked it with his tongue. He added some fingers to the equation, savoring the hot, tight feel of you.

“Please,” you murmured. “More.”

So he gave you more. He gave you everything. Before he knew it, you were touching your breasts, pinching your nipples as he devoured you, and you swear you could have come from the sight of Jungkook between your legs alone. he was simply glorious. Your voice was starting to get hoarse. Getting close to the edge before Jungkook ripped his mouth away.

“No! Jungkook, please.” You’re frustrated and angry and horny that he would do that. Even if you did the same thing to him.

He was testing you once again but the raw need in his eyes told you that you were testing him too.

“I’ll fuck you now noona. Nice and good. You want this cock right?” He’s holding his straining erection heavily, sliding down his boxers to discard them besides his bed.

You moan out your answer, opening your legs wide in invitation.

“Just fuck me before I change my mind.”

“Yeah?” His tone is mocking. His eyes twinkling with a cheeky grin on his face. You almost get up to kiss him because he looked so fucking adorable and hot and sexy at the same time.

Thankfully - or not? - he’s pulling you to the edge of the bed and in seconds, he has pulled you close to his chest. He circles the engorged head of him in your slit before pushing in to the hilt in one thrust. The sheer girth of him has you yelping, needing to adjust to the length of him as well. But Jungkook doesn’t allow you the courtesy of that.

His legs are spread in a powerful stance as his hands grip your legs from behind the knees. And then he’s thrusting. He’s fucking into you so deep, you can feel him in your throat. You must look like a fish at this very moment with your mouth opening and closing without any real sound. He feels hot and thick, like molten lava in your veins. you’re finally finding your voice when angles his hips slightly to the left - biting a spot that has you blinking up at the ceiling full of stars.

“Jungkook! Oh god. Oh f-fuck. You’re so good baby. S-So good.”

“Yeah? You like how deep I am in your pussy? Answer me noona.” He’s quickening his pace, snapping his hips punishingly making you release a guttural scream.

“I love it. So much.”

You watch the sweat drip off his forehead, the dimples in his cheek now very prominent as his tongue peeks out the corner of his mouth. He’s a sight you want to imprint on the back of your eyelids. You can see his lose his resolve, the creases in his forehead slowly deepening as the pleasure becomes too much for him.

“God you feel so wet and tight n-noona. You look so hot when you cum. I w-wanna make you squirt.”

Your eyes bulge out of your head at his admissions. It seems like he’s lost all his filter, chasing the mind numbing pleasure he felt earlier. His words are bringing you even closer to the edge and your throat now begs for relief when you let out another yell as he pushes you up the bed while still fully seated inside you.

“I’m gunna cum noona. I j-just need to... to- I don’t. I don’t wanna h-hurt you-“ His sweet face is contorted with worry, still thrusting steadily. You finally understand his point after a few seconds. Taking you twice as long to comprehend anything with the plethora of feelings your body was feeling right now.

Cupping his face, you told yours upwards to place a small kiss on his wet lips. “It’s okay baby. You won’t break me. Just let go.”

Jungkook’s eyes are glassy and he stares in yours for a moment too long because your heart is doing summersaults, heading straight for your mouth. Too much emotion crammed into his big eyes and you just wanted to strangely hug him close to your chest. This day has been strange enough - so you do. You Pull Jungkook close to you. His face tucks itself in the crevice of your neck, whining and moaning. His breath tickles and sends shivers down your spine. And then he circles his hips against yours.

From the hard and deep fucking, Jungkook circles his hips into yours. Slowly at first, his pelvis rubbing against your clit in just the right way before he speeds up. His hands find their way down your back again, pushing your hips up into his own, making your centres feel everything. You can feel him in every fold of your core and it’s all too much.

“Oh god.” Your hands scratching down his back, head tilted back, legs closing around his waist tightly.

“That’s it noona. Cum for me. Please, please. ‘Wanna feel you around my cock. ‘Wanna feel y-your cunt devour me. Cum.”

You scream so loud that you can hear a ringing in your ears. Vision flashing white as the indescribable pleasure starts in the pit of your stomach and coarse through your limbs all the way to the tips of your fingers and toes. It’s all consuming and breathtaking. Unexpected.

“I-I can’t hold it anymore. Can I-“ You’re unable to speak.

Still reeling from your orgasm, twitching from the sensitivity, but you nod anyway. You wanted Jungkook to let go inside of you. Wanted to give him the same pleasure he gave you. He was incredibly ethereal atop you. You wanted to see him come undone. And Jungkook was too far gone to think twice before hitching one of your legs up, the other arm grabbing the headboard as he thrust up inside you once again.

“Fuck, yes. God, you’re so good you’re so good. I could fuck you forever noona.”

His eyes are watering, tucking his face back into your neck again before he pistons his hips against yours rhythmically. The only sounds in the room being the tacky noise of skin slapping against skin, the obscene squelch from the steady arousal leaking between you both. You’re so delirious from the mix of pleasure and the deliciously addicting pain. AT some point, you’ve stopped screaming and only whimpers leave past your lips, legs falling lax around Jungkook and hands fisting the sheets.

“Cum Jungkook. P-Please baby. Cum for n-noona.”

“‘gunna cum. Am I good noona? your good boy?”

“You’re the best Jungkookie. Cum for your noona.”

“Fuck! Y/n, f-fuck.” He’s shouting something you can’t properly hear because of the ringing in your ears from your own release. Filling you with his hot release. The intense pressure that had been building between you has snapped the frail rubber band in your stomach again. And seems like Jungkook’s had too.

Moments pass, both of you trying to suck in air like it’s the last supply available. Then, Jungkook’s flushed face appears in front of yours with his signature cheeky smirk. He’s glowing.

“You squirted.”

“Shut up!” Your ears must be the shade of a tomato now as you swat his back for the comment. He lays besides you, cuddling up to your side with his leg laying on top of yours. Clinging to you like a koala and it’s too damn adorable. Damn it.

“It was hot. You’re amazing.” Your heart flutters a little too violently at that and you have to suck in another breathe, pulling the sheets off of him and completely bundling them on you.

“Hey!”

“Hm? You’re going to finish that assessment.” You grin innocently at him and try your hardest to not start howling with laughter when you can see his face fall almost in slow motion.

“Are you serious?” You just sent him a kiss before settling in his bed for maybe a 12 hour nap. Just a tiny nap.

“Noona!”

“I’ll give you head when you’re done. Be a good boy.”

With the most adorable pout you’ve ever seen on a grown man, you watch Jungkook pull up his boxers, stomping away to his study desk.

“Wake me up when you’re done Jungkookie.” Your sweet tone does little to get the pout off his face but he does smile the whole time he’s typing.

Of course, not that he let you see that

a/n: liked it? hated it? let me know!!

#bts smut #jungkook smut #jungkook x reader #jungkook fluff #hope u like it!!!

4K notes · View notes