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gublersg1rl · 7 months ago

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cw: feminism rant, smut, sex, misogyny, porn etcetc

note: i’m not the best writer or very articulate… and i’m dyslexic LOL i hope this is understandable it’s kinda all over the place i fear

Once, I saw a woman on Instagram criticizing the porn industry, and I immediately knew there would be some man in the comments getting defensive. What I didn't expect to see was a man who wrote, "Women criticize porn as if they don't write about having sex with fictional men."

As someone who despises the porn industry but actively reads smut, id argue that women writing smut is a direct effect of the ways porn has impacted women's sexual expression.

Why do women choose to sexually express themselves through fictional characters and celebrities? If a teenage boy wants to have sex, he's just being a boy. If a teenage girl wanted to have sex, something had to have happened to her. That's concerning. Men can have a lot of sex. He's a man. Of course, he's going to want to have sex. Women can't have sex; women having sex is slutty. Nobody likes a whore. Blowjobs? That's normal. Eating a girl out? Don't be gross. Thats disgusting. Women can't sexually express themselves without being judged in society, but you know who won't judge them? People they understand they have no chance with, like celebrities and fictional characters. This is why a lot of queer men also partake in "fangirl" culture because queer sexual expression is also shunned in society, so there has to be some sort of outlet.

This brings me to my next topic, the difference between porn and smut. They're not different in the way porn was made for men by men and smut was made for women by women. If I went on pornhub, the first thing ill see is, "Big tits virgin teen girl gets choked out by massive 10-inch cock." Women aren't equal to men in porn. Porn makes women objects; in porn, women's sexuality does not exist. Women don't have sexual needs outside of what the man wants. Once, I heard someone say, "In a pornsick culture, women don't have sex; they perform it." Meanwhile, in smut, it's the opposite. Even if the writer is writing with sub and dom dynamics typically, there will always be an underlying sense of trust, with moments of obvious consent, whether that is verbal, a touch, or a glance.

This isn't to say women don't write about rough sex. They do. There are so many fics that involve extreme kink aspects, but more times than not, there will be that trust and consent.

But what if there's not? I've seen it. if you read smut, you've probably seen questionable tags, too. It's important to mention that just because mostly women write smut, there are straight men who do it, too. I've read smut, which was painfully obvious it was written by a man. That being said, women also write questionable... smut. Going back to my most recent statement, women are shown and taught that they are objects. So it's not completely absurd to say you will find smut written by women that objectifies them; when you condition someone to an idea, it's hard to unlearn that. It's hard to understand sexuality as a woman when society is telling you not to be slutty but to also submit and to perform for a man and his sexual needs because in a man's world, his sexual needs, by default, are your sexual needs.

Is smut damaging to women? Well, I'm not a psychologist. I'm just a nineteen year old girl who likes to read smut about Spencer Reid and is also a feminist. So, I do not know how qualified I am to answer this question, but what I will say is I think that as long as women are not writing smut and portraying themselves as sexual beings living for the sole purpose of men.... smut is a perfectly healthy way to express sexuality :) all in all porn is fucking scary, and so is men and sex and being intimate it’s all really scary but smut is an easy way to express your sexuality in a safe anonymous space.

#smut #spencer reid #criminal minds #speaking my truth

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mylevisdontfitanymore · 11 months ago

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Hear me out I am very high from a edible rn but HEAR ME OUT DUDE

so we all know Chris Evans and his absolute slutty build like cmon he literally was nicknamed the human dorito bc slutty waist

Anyways thinking about that one promo pic of Chris in the cap suit with his back turned to the camera and his ass is just perfect ANYWAYS FR THIS TIME

Thinking about stucky but not like dating but Bucky being obsessed with Steve’s absolutely slutty figure and once the two get close to being fully retired Steve gets bigger as he slowly grows accustomed to taking it easy for once. but not exactly just fatter everything is the same but somehow softer and bigger. His thighs spread out more when he sits his chest is massive not quite defined pecs but far from being flabby moobs they’re just huge, his abs are long gone but he doesn’t have a round gut (Atleast when he’s empty) and the best part that makes bucky go crazy is his love handles , ass, and thighs, all perfectly packed together in one big package that makes Bucky lose his shit. Steves ass has nearly doubled but it’s still a perfect bubble butt, and his thighs have filled out enough to close any gap that might’ve occurred even when he has a wide stance. (Think those really chunky frat boys that manspread and their thighs are still somehow touching) BUT Steve’s suit and most of his wardrobe hasn’t changed so his clothes just accentuate his assets. His thighs and ass taking up most of the room in his pants and they perfectly leave Steve’s bulge completely on display almost like a gift from god to Bucky. Anyways I’m sure if you did add to this you’d be able to express that better than I could! And if you don’t THATS ALSO COOL (pls by no means feel like you have to answer this right away )

THIS HAS VIBES 🤤🤤

You know what kind of vibes? Exhibitionist Captain America vibes from this post by iwritetheweirdstuff

And I assume you're talking about this photo, which I nabbed from forchrisevans

Okay, shit...

Now you just have me thinking about chunky but still super fucking muscular Steve. I’m going off the rails over here, biting and clawing at my enclosure. I don’t think this rambling is actually totally related to your original idea, so just know I love your original idea!

But this reaoly gets me because Steve would be such a fucking classic MAN. Yanno? Big and heavy and robust. He looks like he could take Bucky in his big, beefy arms and rip him apart. He’s healthy. Hefty. Rippling muscles hidden under this layer of pudge.

Yum.

Unbeta'd stucky belly kink ahead. Warning for weight gain, muscle chub talk, tight clothes, Bucky being a little creepy by drooling over Steve before they're an item, etc.

Before gaining weight and when he was wearing the title of Captain American so tightly that it was suffocating him to the point that he was unforgiving of himself, never good enough as Steve Rogers, Steve was like a Thoroughbred. A racehorse, smooth and lean, with a single objective. Win. But now that he’s looser with the title and deciding what he wants for himself, more often calling himself a nomad than going by Cap… now he’s gruff, ignoring the rules (ignoring them even more than he did before, which is saying something for a troublemaker like him), and he’s like a Clydesdale. He’s a tank.

A fucking beast.

When he’s running, you get out of the fucking way because of all the mass behind that force. If you let him collide with you at full speed, full force… it ain’t pretty. His feet pound the ground. Jesus wept. These days his chest, belly, and ass shake when he runs, even when his big, big body is wrapped tightly in all that deep, navy-blue Kevlar. The sight just destroys Bucky.

Bucky can’t fucking fight next to him anymore when they’re called in for Avenging every now and again, half-retired as they are. It was bad enough when Steve was that Thoroughbred, rippling lean muscle and a shiny, bright blond head of short hair. Always distracting Bucky. But now it’s worse because Steve is a Clydesdale with this heft to him and his dirty blond hair and dark, thick beard. He’s even letting his body hair grow in, and it’s all Bucky can do to not faint, landing face-first into the deepening cleavage between his robust pecs, inhaling the musk of him. Every time Steve grunts with the effort of punching or kicking or tearing some offending villain to pieces, Bucky swears he feels faint. He has this completely involuntary feral reaction to the burly man he’s become. Hunky. Stocky. Ripped. Hefty. Whatever fucking word there is for the built he’s got going… it makes Bucky’s mouth water.

Of course, Steve’s still only two inches taller - 6’2” to Bucky’s 6’0” - but suddenly he feels a whole foot taller, and he feels twice as wide as Bucky. Those broad shoulders are only made wider, reinforced by the extra protein he’s eating, thickening his muscles and adding soft pudge; his pecs are still high and tight but even more… they’re swollen almost, added to by an irresistible layer of fat that Bucky has the primal urge to bite; the abs he had once upon a time, defined enough to use as a washboard have softened, especially after a hearty meal like a good lumberjack’s breakfast or a caveman’s dinner, just, these big plates with plenty of meat piled onto them, which turn his stomach into this drool-worthy curve, a little belly that sticks around until he somehow manages to digest it all; that fucking ass made even rounder and more shapely to the point that his pants all strain across it, his sweats especially, nearly splitting down the middle whenever he gets out of his comfy recliner; his thighs, oh, Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, they’re ripe, rubbing together and trying to bust outta his jeans, his sweats, even his Captain America uniform.

Bucky has it bad.

If he weren’t so focused on trying to not let his animal out, growling and just fucking tackling Steve to the floor, he would feel terrible for how much he’s sexualizing his best pal. It seems no matter what he’s doing, Bucky’s caveman brain is thinking about how to best peel him out of his too-small clothes. Too tight when he was lean with rippling muscles, barely any body fat on him, and especially too fucking tight now when he has this delicious extra give to him. He looks like a size two sausage stuffed into a size one casing. Bucky curses his wardrobe at the same time that he would fall to his knees and thank it with his hands pressed together, praying to it. He wants to be there for the day that Steve busts out of it after a heavy, hearty, indulgent dinner.

‘Cause, listen, Bucky’s spank bank is just overflowing these days:

When the most recent battle is done and Steve bends over to pick up a fucking massive slab of concrete, he unintentionally gives Bucky a front-row seat to his thick ass. His curves barely fit in his uniform these days. Honestly, Bucky doesn’t know how he puts that godforsaken, tight-as-hell uniform on by himself anyway. And he doesn’t want to think about it. Not in public! The only way he can imagine it happening is with Steve naked save for a jock strap, alone in his room. First, he steps into the legs, then he works it up his calves, getting it to his thighs where it gets stuck. He’s outgrowing it. It’s a tight fit, but he still fits for now. At least, he fits when he shimmies and wiggles into it. Better than a damn stripper. Moving his body in this unintentionally, totally sexy way. Wiggling. Pulling. Squirming. Even jumping while he’s at it, pulling hard at the thick Kevlar, his biceps bulging - they’re bigger than Bucky’s fucking head now - grunting as he holds his breath, sucking in. Sucking in! His chest expanding without his pudgy, starter belly going anywhere, stubborn and jiggly.

Whenever he bends over, he gives Bucky a show, really. It doesn’t matter where they are...

When he’s bent over looking at the leaky pipe under their kitchen sink, his waist filling more of the open cabinet than it once would have. While he’s down there, his shirt rolls up over his soft little hips, the new weight just beginning to accumulate there. The start of what could be real love handles someday.

When he’s looking through the bottom drawer of the fridge, doing a head count before they head out for groceries. He’s not dressed yet, though, so he doesn’t have a belt to hold his pants up and his sweats slide down the shelf of his ass, displaying just enough of his asscrack for Bucky to feel starved, meaning he’s extra grumpy at having to wander around an overcrowded store. Shoulder to shoulder with strangers. Hungry and horny.

When he’s drawing on the couch and he accidentally lets a pencil fall onto the floor, so he has to get up, but, oops, it looks like it must’ve rolled under the couch so he gets even lower. Onto his knees and forearms. Searching blindly for the pencil… blind to Bucky’s eyes, perving out on how his thighs touch from the back now, his legs getting just as thick as his ass is. And it’s thick.

When he’s doing stretches on their balcony in the morning, breathing in the fresh air, doing some cat-cows, and inadvertently displaying his new belly that’s still rumbling through last night’s dessert. A classic, couple 'a slices of pie and ice cream. Too much pie and ice cream judging by how distended his belly looks.

When they’re getting some of their energy out now that they’re not constantly going out and avenging, half-retired, by sparing with each other in the gym. Sparing, kind of wrestling, too. They’re not trying to be tactical about it, they’re just having fun, being big kids, reminiscent of the days when they’d pull the mattress off the bed and start to play fighting on the floor. But they aren’t kids and Steve isn’t so much smaller than him, so Bucky doesn’t have to focus on finding that perfect balance of holding back just enough where it doesn’t seem like he is but he’s also not at risk of pushing Steve’s frail body too far. Now they can really whale on each other. Which is fun… until it isn’t. Because Bucky is laughing and sweating and actually starting to feel tired, and then he’s pinned, and he’s choking back a moan, sweating harder. Steve is on top of him. Steve is crushing him. Steve’s big, hot chest is against his back - Bucky can feel how he’s sweating through his skintight white t-shirt, his thick pecs squishing against his shoulder blades. Steve’s delightful, chubby, little belly is slotted perfectly into the small of his back. While fighting, Bucky’s shirt has risen up, and apparently, Steve’s has done the same, despite how firmly it had been clinging to his soft middle the last time he dared to sneak a peak because now their sweaty, hot skin is pressed together. Steve’s hairy tummy is tickling him, making Bucky want to squirm. He wants to moan. It’s a good fucking thing he’s face-down with Steve on top of him. He wants more than just to squirm and moan, he wants to hump the floor like an animal because with Steve’s tits pressed to his back and his belly squished to his back, it aligns his crotch right up against his ass. Bucky can feel Steve’s dick on his ass through the thin layers of their sweatpants and underwear. He can feel how heavy it is. And he’s thinking about how Steve’s dick probably blushes a dusky pink and gets wet at the time and how it probably curves a little and gets so thick when he’s hard and… this is where Bucky dies because Steve readjusts himself, making it worse by spreading his killer thighs to either side of Bucky’s legs, practically grinding into him, trapping him between his watermelon-crushing thighs. “Had enough?” Steve teases him with a shit-eating grin. God. Only if the fucker knew.

When Natasha adopts a new, abandoned kitten that she’s named Liho and they go over to play with him at Tasha’s apartment and Steve decides to grin like he does, always breath-taking, his smile the sweetest, most affectionate thing as he lifts Liho up above his head like Simba in the Lion King (yes, they’ve caught up on that modern pop culture reference, thank you very much). Bucky nearly goes cross-eyed, staring at his pecs. His t-shirt clings to his round, heavy tits. With his arms up, it forces his pecs to move up, too. High and plump. Bucky can see every detail of them, he can see every breath he takes, making them heave, and he’s almost able to pick out the tiniest creaking groan of the seams of his shirt screaming under all that pressure. Tasha doesn’t bat an eye, at the treatment Steve is giving her new companion, she just squeezes past Steve in her kitchen (is the apartment that small, or is Steve that big?), flicking one of his hard nipples. The points of them are obvious through the straining, thin fabric. She refills her mug with coffee but she doesn’t take a sip until she reminds Steve that if he wants to see how much more comfortable running can be, he only has to say the word and she’ll show him the magic of sports bras. Everyone can see that he needs it, and he might as well embrace it. They can even get matching ones if he wants. Her smile is razor-sharp, teasing. Bucky nearly chokes on his tongue, imagining the heavy mounds of his tits hoised up higher, giving him even more cleavage than he normally sports. Guh. Bucky wouldn’t survive.

When later during that same day, Steve decides he’s going to lie down on Natasha’s couch as they watch a movie - some Russian production that Tasha’s been telling Bucky about forever (he’s hardly paying attention and it’s Steve’s fault that he’s going to have to watch this again, on his own, during one of his sleepless nights when he can pay attention to it) - and Liho decides that Steve’s his favorite. So, he wanders back over to curl up on his soft chest and belly and starts fucking kneading his plush chest and belly like it’s the comfiest, fluffiest pillow ever. It probably fucking is! And Bucky can’t blame the kitten for purring so loudly - despite Steve’s and Tasha’s amusement at it - Bucky would be no better. He spends the rest of the evening biting the inside of his cheek and trying to banish all the mental images of his own hands kneading and squishing and groping those tits until Steve’s blushing, his mouth open, eyes heavily lidded, sweat beading at his hairline, begging Bucky to move on and touch him somewhere else, anywhere else! His nipples swollen and so hard. Irrestable. Bucky would indulge him… sort of. He would move on. But he’d have to give the same thorough attention to his soft belly, his growing hips, his thick thighs, and his fat ass. His body deserves to be pleasured until he’s out of his mind.

When Steve’s loose and warm, they’re hanging out in some back-alley sports bar in Brooklyn for a game, watching the feed on TV, downing beers and greasy bar food with Sam and some other guys from the VA, and a sip goes down the wrong pipe so Steve has to pound his chest with a closed fist, ending up not coughing but belching loudly. For everyone else, the sound is covered by the rowdy cheers filling the crowded, dimly lit space. But not for Bucky. For Bucky, Steve is the only thing in focus. Steve, with his looser fit shirt disguise, blending in, his baseball cap tugged down low on his forehead, shading his eyes, his beard grown out, thick, and… Bucky can’t take it. His body. The way his belly scrunches up when he sits down, bulging out further. The way his throat moves when he chugs from a long-necked bottle. The way his pecs jiggle when he jumps up excitedly, cheering loudly, and the similar way his belly wobbles at the same time. The way he groans at the end of his beer burp, voice rough from yelling all night and soaked in hoppy, malty richness. The way his thighs spread out over his bar stool, expanding, stressing the seams of his jeans. He’s taking up so much space with his broad shoulders, excitable hand gestures as he talks, and his manspreading. Yet, it’s still not enough. His thighs fill out his tight, dark-wash denim so well that even when he’s manspreading, his thighs still touch. Bucky aches to curl up in his lap and kiss him, feeling his beard tickling his face. He wants the heat of that big, big body underneath him. He wants to feel the hot line of his erection when he grinds down into him - their stomachs pressed together, Steve’s heavy with bloating, greasy, fattening bar appetizers.

Bucky’s spank bank is over-fucking-flowing as Steve starts putting on weight and if Bucky didn’t know better, he would think Steve is doing it to him on purpose, teasing him, trying to get him to jump his bones 😏

#ask #mylevisdontfitanymore #belly kink #text #weight gain #stuffing #steve rogers #bucky barnes #stucky #chubby steve #alcohol consumption #tight clothes

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neveragainfools · 4 months ago

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(Vent post) Another day, another time to rail against the protestant gaslighty bullshit 'we're not judging you' rhetoric. If you weren't judging me you wouldn't be so reflexively against me asking questions about why things are a certain way. If you weren't judging me, 'why haven't we seen you at church for so long?' would feel like a question and not a shaming, despite what my mother insists. If you weren't judging me, I wouldn't have at 14 said to myself 'I think might be gay but I simply can't ever explore that.' If you weren't judging, I wouldn't have this gordian knot to untie in the pit of my stomach in regards to sex and romance and love. If you weren't judging, why could I feel the adults breathing down the neck of every teen with a partner, gossiping amongst eachother about it as if it affected your lives too. Modesty ain't hottesty and dressing provocatively is your right if you want it. It is as much the individual's right to dress as slutty as they want as to dress as modestly as they want. I will never understand lust as a sin unless that lust is expressed by exerting power over others or using agression to get what you want. Humans are designed to be horny sometimes. Sex is designed to feel good so that we like the idea of continuing the species. People wanting to do that just for the feel good part are extremely normal.

And I'm EXTREMELY tired of the lie that certain 'liberal' religious communities are quite welcoming and don't judge you. They SAY they don't. But then they gossip. They police your behaviour without saying The Thing itself. You notice they say they're welcoming but they don't seem to know anybody who are the things the claim to accept. There's only one person of colour at the church. As far as you can tell, no queer people at all. Anyone who doesn't fit a very specific ideal doesn't show up. They know they're not welcome without you needing to say it. It's in their convesations at lunch after church. It's in what they choose to talk about and it's VERY MUCH in what they choose not to say. And it has little to do with religion or people's personal faith itself. Everything to do with community control. You're only worthy if you're a certain way. You're only good if you're a certain way. You're only in if you're a certain way. If God cares that I wore something that made me feel good about myself and attracts the kind of attention I want, if God cares that I fuck other consenting adults and it doesn't hurt anyone, I think they're ignoring much more important things. Why on earth would God care about that when there's a genocide on?

#tw religion #tw protestantism #tw religious trauma #vent post #tw gaslighting

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parlerenfleurs · 5 months ago

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Saw your previous post so I watched the documentary, and these are pretty much my thoughts. I don't want (or need, frankly) to judge, and I did reserve my jugdement at first, but they all seem to think that women are uninterested in them for, I feel, the wrong reasons. And, sure, some people are socially too inept and they never manage to make sense of other people, and they suffer when they try but still get lonely and horny. That's fair.

But they do reveal themselves, as you said, when they talk more. I was pretty much neutral until the guy started showing his guns and saying all kinds of weird things and I thought "No yeah, you look fine apart from the fact you can't be bothered to groom yourself properly, it's just that your vibes are rancid, bro".

Same with hand-gliding guy, I just can't believe no woman he met ever found his hobby cool, so it must have been something else in his general attitude that turned them off. They probably stayed distant even if it could have interested them in someone else. And it's sad, I do feel that it's sad for these guys, but the dude is speaking about women being "unavailable".

And that other dude who got a girlfriend shows them to her in garish makeup, slutty outfits, legs spread showing their underwear, then proceeds to put them at the dinner table for his birthday with himself and her despite saying they're not for companionship... Wow. Talk about tasteless. Talk about hypocrisy saying he would "give them up" for the right woman (but implying he hadn't yet given them up with his current girlfriend).

What usually gets to me about dudes and their dolls, is... The dolls look so fake. I've never seen one with normal legs, or an un-vacant expression, or an interesting face, or normal proportions. At least get freaky with it instead of generic-porny look, I don't know. (Some of them do seem to have more original tastes like the one they mentioned who wanted a very hairy doll, which they didn't even bother with making, just giving him the materials... which I found dismissive and callous, actually.)

And I can't get over the woman dating the doll-repair guy who felt threatened by the dolls' appearance. It's just baffling to me that even a woman would find them to be a good example of what "perfect" looks like for a woman. It's tragic. It's sad.

Also where are the sad lonely freaky women who would actually date these lonely freaky guys? But I guess they wouldn't look like an AI's idea of a model, and perhaps that's a deal-breaker for them.

You're so right about Chobits and the implications of such androids existing, it's a chilly thought.

having finished watching that real doll documentary i've come to the conclusion i did not make the human characters in objects of affection nearly pathetic and weird enough and lemme tell you. they are already pretty pathetic and weird.

it was fascinating watching this because it's like. on the one hand, my instinct is that it's harmless. as a rule i don't kinkshame, especially with things that are just one guy in a house and don't involve other people. a guy likes to play dress up with his big dolls and take pictures of them, and he has sex with them sometimes too. that's not actively harmful.

but on the other hand. many of them were not quiet about how they think of real women. they do not like real women, because real women did not go out of their way to like them. and those attitudes are not harmless. "women should find me interesting because i hang glide, but all women seem to want are a guy with a pint in one hand and cigarettes in the other who watches soap operas" okay or maybe they don't find you interesting because you find women vapid and uninteresting yourself. "women don't like me because of the way i look" maybe women don't like you because you have multiple guns in your house that you keep loaded.

there was a guy who did have a girlfriend, who said she was very open minded and she was willing to accept the idea he had some of these. but then he tells her he has eight of them, and she leaves him a week after they wrapped filming. you could call her closed-minded, or you could call him insanely financially irresponsible for spending, bare minimum, $32,000 on masturbatory items. he outright says they are not for companionship, and that he likes them because he doesn't need to ask them for sex.

anyway. it's very strange and sobering to see what these guys would Really, Really be like in a world where androids are real and you can fuck them. how quickly a lot of men would turn to these solutions instead of working on themselves and their attitudes about women. they would get so so much worse, and there is a degree you have to ignore that to enjoy the fantasy of robot gf.

but you can't entirely ignore it.

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j-edwards · 2 years ago

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I'm feeling angry today. I'm 29 years old, and I've lived my life the same way for 28 of those years. For 28 years, I thought struggle, pain, numbness, and just a lack of desire for life were normal. What do you mean people wake up in a good mood? People FEEL things other than negativity? I'm not saying I've never felt happiness, but outside situational emotions, I didn't know people still felt things. I thought emotions were brought on when something happened. What I'm learning now is that through YEARS of emotional neglect, trauma, and undiagnosed ADHD which then triggered some heavy bouts of depression is a lack of emotional regulation. ND folks can already have an uphill battle with emotional regulation, so I believe my body saw numbness in survival mode and kept me there. It didn't know how to regulate what it was feeling and just decided not to feel at all. Feeling emotions for what I believe is the first time in my life is hard to battle. I feel like I'm a gangly giraffe learning to walk for the first time, tripping and falling, unaware of where my limbs are. It's really hard not to revert back to the toxic ways I know, the yelling and screaming, calling people names, threatening to leave if no change is made, and completely stone walling. It's hard, really hard, not to break down when expressing emotions because it triggers feelings of vulnerability. Talking through things with the help of my husband has given me a safe space to allow my feelings to be heard and to feel validated. He grew up in a home that regulated emotions, apologized, and checked in with one another. He has more practice than I do. He never yells, he listens, sometimes he says the wrong thing (wrong in the sense that it may not be what I wanted to hear) and we've been working on communicating what we need in that moment. I feel late to the party. I feel like Cady from Mean Girls, she shows up late, walks into a room full of people in slutty costumes and they're all stairing at her in her "ex-wife" costume. She's confused, feels like she sticks out, feels left out. Ultimately, I feel failed. Completely and utterly failed. I have 2 biological parents who had absolutely no business having children, one step dad that is completely checked out and unaware, and thankfully an ex step mom who literally didn't give one single shit about me or my well being. I feel like I showed up to work, and everything's in diseray, a complete and utter mess, and everyone's just sitting there on their phone. I walk in like "hellooooo?!" What the fuck happened here? Why is this place a disaster, and why is no one working? They just shrug, "eh" we wanted to try doing it, didn't work out like we thought, so you can do it now, but we're not cleaning it up or keeping ourselves accountable. I'm just standing there thinking what the fuck. I just feel so neglected. Growing up, I had this idea of my mom that I idolized, I wanted to be just like her. I wanted to grow up to be strong, independent, driven, and self-sufficient. Now, this is the last thing I want. When I (emotionally) grow up, I want to be loved, accepted, safe, and unmasked. I feel betrayed. I feel let down. I'm just so, so angry. I think this has a large influence on why I don't want kids. I think back to my childhood and remember how lonely I was. I could never, and would never want to put a child through what I have experienced in life. I don't believe that I could give a child the life they deserved. Not a life I would enjoy simultaneously. Seeing what supportive parents are supposed to look like has been a very eye-opening experience for me. Feeling love and support from my in-laws has allowed me to heal a part in my trauma. Having a supportive family in general. A sister who loves, supports, and trusts me is just a feeling I could never explain. Having that support has been one of the biggest helping hands through my healing journey. For once, I'm starting to feel valued for who I am, not what I bring or do.

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taechaos · 4 years ago

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Your Boy, No?

pairing: bully!Jungkook x nerdy!fem!Reader

genre: drabble, smut, college au

synopsis: You can't stand seeing Jungkook with another girl, so you give him a piece of your mind in a stranger's bedroom by becoming his outlet of sexual frustration.

warnings: losing virginity, riding, degradation

a/n: jungkook's character is not exactly submissive, so i added my own twists to this request. i hope you don't mind @madygswich c:

word count: 2.5k

You can't stop pouting. Holding back tears when seeing a woman perched up on Jungkook's lap while they make out has proven to be difficult, but you're trying. It hurts your heart; hell, you're aching everywhere. It doesn't take a genius to know he's doing it to get a reaction out of you when his eyes are throwing daggers at you with his tongue down another girl's throat.

Following Jungkook around like a lost puppy isn't ideal, especially at a frat party. He never gives you the time of the day if it's not out of menace, but you aren't willing to give up on him. It's just not possible when you are so in love with him, and so fucking jealous.

More than Jungkook, you're mad at the girl. You want to rip her heart out, make her suffer for ever touching the love of your life. You're becoming irrational, mentally cussing her out for being a whore while you stop yourself from breaking down in a house filled with horny young adults. You don't know a single person here, and you have to deal with your pent up emotions all by yourself.

You choke out a sob when Jungkook starts kneading the girl's ass shamelessly with her skirt hiked up to her back. They're being so inappropriate in the kitchen of a stranger's house, while you can't even take a sip from your spiked drink in the bustling living room. You abruptly stand up and throw away your plastic cup when Jungkook's hand disappears elsewhere, and you have an idea of what he's about to do. You march over to him, looking absolutely tiny next to the overbearing college students and you don't notice Jungkook's sinister smile as he watches you fume.

"Let go," you sound hoarse, and not at all intimidating when you push the girl off of his lap. She stumbles at the force, but you pay no mind to her confusion as you pull Jungkook up by his arm to drag him away. You think it's the anger and adrenaline giving you so much strength, but it's Jungkook amusing himself by allowing you to take him upstairs.

"This isn't a therapy session, little girl," he yells over the music, "I didn't come here to listen to you cry."

You huff and let a single tear slip before harshly wiping it away. When you reach the hallway, you enter the first bedroom you find. It's occupied by a foreplaying couple, but you're driven as you hiss, "Out!"

They leave at your demand, and you're confusing a lot of people tonight. Jungkook is surprised by your sudden aggression, but he doesn't stop with his remarks, "the chihuahua's gone mad."

"Shut up, Jungkook!" you whirl around angrily to face him. "How could you do that to me?!"

He quirks a brow. "Do what to you? I'm sorry, am I the one who forcefully brought you here? Am I tripping or are you?"

You push at his chest, "you're a fucking whore! Tonguing a girl in front of everyone, in front of me?"

His shoulders shake in silent laughter and you cross your arms when he starts cackling loudly. The music is drowned out and muffled behind the door, but it's nothing compared to how hysterically Jungkook is laughing.

"What's so funny?" you ask lamely. He throws his head back as he clutches his stomach, and you're starting to get annoyed. You push him on the bed, but he's still laughing. "Quit it already," your voice wavers, but you don't back down as you smack his chest. You place your knees on both sides of his hips to limit his movement and cover his mouth to shut him up.

His crescent eyes turn intense instantly as he glares at you under his hooded lids. He exerts only a tiny bit of his energy into pushing your hand away and you weakly collapse on him. It's foul play to compete with his muscles, and you realize he can snap you in half if he wanted to regardless of your rush of adrenaline.

You sit back up as he lowly speaks, "The fuck's it to you? I wanted to fuck her, and I was going to until you stepped in as if you're my girlfriend. Tell me why I shouldn't go back to her right now." He clasps his hands under his head, making himself comfortable with your weight pressing against his crotch.

"You know why," you huff with a frown, and you look so cute in the dim lighting with your baggy knitted sweater bunching up on the sleeves, sitting on his bulge with so much innocence in your expression. He's smitten, but it doesn't show in his cold stare. "I'm your girl, and I won't tolerate you messing around with other women. It's slutty!" You slightly bounce for emphasis, but your knee-length skirt hides your actions. Jungkook feels it with you, and his eyes trail down to your lower region.

"My girl?" he parrots with a raised brow. He gazes back into your eyes. "You do my homework."

"I don't care. I love you," you plead pathetically, "please say you love me back."

"Wasn't I a whore just a second ago?"

"You were! Apologize to me," you harshly yank his head back by his hair. He doesn't react in the slightest, so you softly add, "please."

"Oh little girl," he sighs, "are you really trying to dominate me right now?"

"I am dominating you. Promise me you won't kiss another girl like that again. I won't forgive you a second time."

"Yeah? What's my loss?"

"Well, you're lazy in school," you bluntly state, "and no one loves you like I do. No one would try to cater to you like I do. I'd do anything for you, Kookie." You tug down your skirt to take it off and plop back down on him before saying, "Including sex. You can only use me for your sexual needs."

He's enamored by your words, but he doesn't dare share it with you. Instead, he thrusts upwards and you yelp when you jump. "Go on then," he says nonchalantly. "Show me how much of a slut you are."

"U-Um, okay," you stutter and start unzipping his black denim jeans. You've seen a lot of porn videos to make sure you were prepared for the next step with Jungkook, but you have no experience with penetration.

And he realizes that rather quickly when you're so meek with your actions. With a groan, he asks, "You're not a fucking virgin, are you?"

"I've been saving it for the right guy," you answer with offence. This is a special occasion, and you want him to take it as seriously as you do. But it's definitely not a good idea to be snarky with him when you can barely remember the steps for safe sex. "Do you have a condom?"

"It's in my pocket," he grumbles and points at his front without taking it out himself. You're excited and nervous as you tear the wrapper and take out the preservative. You have no idea how to put it on, but you're topping so you clumsily push down his briefs. Jungkook is surprisingly throbbing under you, and you blush at the sight of his erection.

He stops himself from teasing you and saying that the girl from earlier gave him this boner, but he doesn't want to be cruel yet. It's your first time, and truthfully, he jacks off to thought of you too often anyway. He can handle being somewhat nice by staying quiet, but that doesn't mean he would teach you how to put on a condom.

You slip it on with little struggle, and don't waste any time in positioning his cock in your entrance. Before he can stop you, you sink down on his length with a painful moan. He wants to tell you that losing your virginity in this position is the most painful, but instead he groans, "Holy shit, how are you so fucking tight?"

It hurts so fucking bad. Your tear ducts are like clockwork as they water instantly, but you lower yourself down to the hilt anyway. You're quite literally sitting on his cock as you try to catch your breath because God, you're in so much pain.

"Fuck, are you okay?" he asks, but he's more worried about controlling himself from fucking into you before you can adjust. It's difficult, but he's trying.

"Jungkook," you whimper quietly with your eyes screwed shut, "it hurts."

"You're so fucking dumb for doing this, but you feel so fucking good," he pants as he holds your hips.

"Thank you," you muster out in a breath. A few seconds pass until the pain starts to numb, and you move against him very slowly. Your walls are stinging, but it feels like Heaven for Jungkook who you clench down on.

"Go up and down," he instructs with a bit lip. He tries to move your hips, but you're resisting in fear of another shock of pain. "Come on!"

"Can you wait?" you hiss through clenched teeth.

He's trying to rile you up when he says, "Sana wouldn't take this fucking long."

And it works, because you bounce once. "Don't say her name!"

He groans at your tightness, and he can't believe how wet you are. You're dripping on him, and he curses himself for holding back because of your hopeless romance. He can't entertain your conservative way of going on about this any longer, so he continues, "She would have made me cum by now, but this prissy princess can't even get a move on."

It's almost pathetic how one push from Jungkook makes you start moving, and it feels less uncomfortable to hop up and down against his pelvis. The filthy sound of slapping skin mixing with the generic radio music is making you feel so slutty because it's so stereotypical, but when Jungkook moans, it brings heat all over your body. You take your sweater off when sweat begins to cumulate on your temples, and he commands, "Take off your bra too."

He's thrusting into you as you unclasp the black material, freeing your breasts as he finds his new eyecandies. You are so pretty, your nipples are so hard, and your cunt sucks him in so perfectly. It almost upsets him when he realizes how much pleasure he's deprived himself of; the amount only you seem to be able to provide, because it's beyond physical intimacy.

"Good girl," he exhales and gently slams into you with his hands fondling your tits. You smile coyly through your tears, and he asks, "Does it still hurt?"

You contemplate for a second, because you don't feel the best yet, but you don't want to disappoint Jungkook either. "I-It doesn't," you lie.

Jungkook mentally rolls his eyes; he really wants to believe you so he can chase his high, but he sees right through you. He slaps your tit without mercy and chastises you, "don't lie. I thought this was your little moment of control."

"I'm sorry," you pout as you slowly ride him.

"Another lie," he slaps your other tit more harshly and you yelp.

"I'm not lying!" you plead and hasten your pace, desperate to sell your lie. It's working, because you're starting to feel a knot in your stomach the more you adjust.

He moans with you, and you lose yourself when he stills your hips and begins to fuck you himself. It's rough, loud, and the pain is your pleasure. His balls slap against your skin as he easily slides in and out of you with the help of your arousal. Your love dawns on him when you're so turned on for him without any foreplay, and he's on cloud nine because nothing can compare to being inside you.

The setting is so unlike you, fucking in someone's bedroom with a bunch of people behind the unlocked door who can barge in at any given moment, but he finds it so sexy. You only care about being with him, and you really do look like his slut now.

His hands start holding onto your ass, kneading it until it turns red with his fingerprints, and he demands you to kiss him. You're out of it, your ears are ringing and you can only moan out his name, but you can't bear to ignore him. Your lips fall on his, and the kiss is sloppy with his tongue all over your mouth. You can't keep up, but your chest swells with pride when you realize how needy he is for you. He goes as far as to spit in your mouth, and you swallow it without hesitation.

"You want me to play with your clit?" he murmurs against your lips, and his voice sounds so airy and melodic to your ears. "Hm? Want me to make you feel good, little slut?"

You whine without a clear response because his lips feel so soft and wet, and that's the only thing you can focus on. All you want to do is kiss him and he doesn't stop you from doing so, but you're even more overwhelmed when he starts touching you while penetrating you. "No," you whimper, "I'll cum."

"A slut can take it," he grunts and rubs your clit faster, and you come undone all too soon. You moan loudly as you tremble, shaking as he rides out your high with a pinch to your clit. You're numb when you collapse on top of him, but he's relentless with his thrusts. He's using your body as you intended, and he's vocal with his pleasure and teasing climax. It's remarkable how he holds you up when you've gone limp and still fucks you just as hard.

You want to record his voice when he starts to whine pathetically, but you have no energy left within. He's panting in your ear, and it's not long before his hips fall on the mattress with a sigh. He's surprised by how powerful his orgasm was, as he fills the condom with his release instantly. His cock is still nestled inside you as both of you recover from your climax.

"Get off," he taps your thigh, and he pushes you off when you don't obey immediately. Your spell has worn off as he starts to dress himself. "I'm going back to the dorms." You listen to him with your mind in a haze. "Unless you want to get raped on your way without me, get the fuck up now."

"Can you carry me please?"

He shrugs and swings your arm over his shoulder, picking up your body with ease. He collects your clothes in his hand, but doesn't hand them to you as he steps out of the room.

"W-Wait, Jungkook, I'm naked-"

"You're my girl, no? Be a good slut and shut the fuck up."

Dangling off his shoulder with your bare tits pressed against his back, you close your eyes and drift off on the way to campus.

Boyfriends typically drop their girlfriends off anyway, right?

#bts scenarios #bts jungkook #jeon jungkook #bts imagines #bts x reader #jungkook x reader #bts smut #jungkook smut #jjk smut #jungkook imagines

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fawnnbinary · 3 years ago

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while I have your attention btw kjfhgsfkjgh I know I'm using Jask as our point of reference for how big these guys are (and yes I joked about it being an excuse to just draw jask next to big guys for horny reasons kjhvsdkjgh) but I think this is a good a time as any to bring something up about my interpretation of Jaskier and his relationship to the other Witchers who aren't Geralt! Wolves and otherwise ksjhfg

this is gonna get wordy so I'm putting a readmore in here <3

So, not to be one of Those People who can only ship one thing and one thing only, but my interpretation of Jask is not like, "witchersexual" as some people call it in fandom spaces :P He's not going to be instantly horny about all witchers just because they're witchers, and he's not going to sort of,,, whore himself out to all of them I guess? to focus on the wolves specifically, he is so in love with and devoted to Geralt that I don't think he could stand to be intimate with his witcher's brothers, yknow?

it very much ties into how I view Jaskier as a whole, and a bit into a certain discomfort I have with some other interpretations of his character, that being that he's the Slutty Bi Man stereotype. Jaskier, in my opinion, is not this one track minded guy who can't keep it in his pants, and that's what he can feel reduced to in a lot, which very much makes me uncomfortable.

Call me a sap, but I love to follow Joey's actual words about how Jaskier is no womanizer (and in this case no man-eater either), he's someone who falls in love with everyone and so very easily. He's a romantic, and he loves sex, sure, but I think he ultimately loves it for more than the basest of pleasures he gets from it, its a deeply intimate act that he shares with these people because, for however shallow or fleeting it is, he loves these people. He loves them for their eyes or for the way they said hello to him or how they played with their hair just before they spoke, or how they sat in the corner alone to brood :P

"but Miles," you say, "you created Ivan to be a witcher Jaskier was horny about." I reply to you yes, we did do that - operative word being was. Ivan was moreso meant to be just,,, a rival in skill and work with Geralt, I suggested he be someone who had known Jask first (very briefly mind you, they only met didn't travel together) bc I thought it would have been fitting given Jaskier seems to be someone who has none of the fear of witchers that most of the continent does when he meets Geralt - who says he hasn't met another? Ivan is meant to be Not Good for Jask anyway, a man who only wants him because he's Geralt's, and Ivan's biggest issue is he just wants everything Geralt has.

this is even more of just my own opinions about the character too, but I think that a lot of Jaskier's overtly horny expression is more of an image he has to keep up anyway. He has a reputation to uphold! He's Jaskier, he's viewed as this promiscuous, showy thing, ad that's what people expect of him - and Jaskier needs to meet expectations. He needs to be what is wanted or needed of him, and if what is wanted of him is to be sexy and entertaining and sexual he will be that.

Yes, he's flirtatious, yes, he's got a high libido, yes, he does have a lot of sex, and sometimes it's even just for fun without that deep connection he wants from others, but ultimately it's because he's a man who loves deep and often and easily, not because he's a slutty bi man stereotype.

idk these are just my thoughts, and I suppose I'm bringing them up just to cut us off at the pass from making this space (my blog, my space for sharing my ideas and art with you) an uncomfortable one. My Jask is platonic with the other wolves, that's just how I want to depict them <3

#miles.txt #long post #ofc I can't tell you what to do with your own fan content and what discomforts me won't do so for others #and ESPECIALLY if you yourself are a bi man and wanna presnet him as a slutty bi dude I'm not going to tell you to stop #but it does rub me the wrong way so I wanted to address it in a way that was open and honest with you guys

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bitsandbobsofwriting · 4 years ago

Note

So I haven't submitted a prompt before, I actually discovered your blog recently so I'm not sure how to do this.

This idea popped into my head while I was looking at IncorrectMerlinQuotes, a blessing to us imo, and thought your writing would do it justice better than mine :D

I was thinking that Arthur starts getting suspicious at the number of giggling servant girls, winking servant boys and suddenly shy nobles appearing recently. When he begins to investigate, he hears a rumour that Merlin has basically slept with half the staff members. To him this seems absolutely absurd and probably very exaggerated. He brings this up to the round table knights as an issue for concern. But they're all like "???" "Yeah you didn't know?" "Pretty sure he's got to some knights as well" Lancelot turns red and looks away bc Merlin's certainly gotten to him and Gwaine goes "haha that's my boy!" and then completely seriously "so when's my turn?"

Arthur is clearly very flabbergasted.

I hope you have fun if choose to use the prompt and I just wanted to say that your writing is so brilliant and brings me joy whenever I read it <3

(This is #54 on The List)

Ok, I'm not going to lie to you, I really disliked this when I first read it. BUT the more I read it, the more I loved it, I literally cry with laughter when I think about this now because Arthur's reaction would be just... priceless. This is fucking hilarious anon, and I hope it gets a lot of votes :D

I swapped it around a little, hope you don't mind, but I wanted to make Merlin as slutty (affectionate) as possible😅

I have a feeling this will be VERY short, but just pure crack.

Arthur like... hears rumours about Merlin being a good lay and is absolutely outraged and feels this desperate need to protect Merlin's honour because... how dare the castle staff talk about his completely naïve and innocent best frie- uhh... manservant, in such a way. So he brings it up to the knights and they're just like "Yah, you didn't know?" Arthur is trying to figure out like... exactly who Merlin has slept with for... research purposes and Percival has this shit eating grin on his face as he goes coughLancelotcough and Lance turns the colour of a fucking lobster and punches him on the shoulder. Arthur is even more outraged, and is all "Right!! Who else here has slept with my manservant?!" Gwaine puts a proud hand up, Elyan is kinda shy and embarrassed and is all "I mean... I made out with him in an alley once, if that counts?" Arthur is fucking.... so outraged and confused and literally can't compute. Merlin walks in, confused at the vast range of expressions in the room, and Arthur just turns on him like "Merlin!! You slut!! How many of my fucking knights have you slept with?!" Merlin just turns on the knights like "Right!! Who fucking told?! Leon I know you're all about loyalty and honesty or whatever, but come on!"

Arthur screams, Gwaine and Percival start laughing, Elyan looks vaguely embarrassed, vaguely amused, Lancelot looks like he wants to die, and Leon just... sighs really loudly and "Way to go Merls, he didn't know about me." Arthur screams some more and it just ends with Percival making some very out of character joke along the lines of "Feeling a little left out."

Merlin winks, Arthur cries.

Anon I love this so fucking much, this is literally hilarious to me, I LOVE you!!!!!

My Ko-Fi, which is where I post sneak peaks of upcoming works, check it out and consider donating!!

#send requests #send #asks #requests #potentials

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mochiable · 4 years ago

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— enough. (a)

REQUESTED — hello!! i really like your work and how you write. could i request a scenario about han jisung cheating on reader and her forgiving him every time but then she can’t stay with him anymore and they have a big fight? sorry if it’s so specific, but i think you’d do a great work with this! i’ll understand if you don’t want to do it though, have a nice day!

wc: 1.7k

warnings: toxic relationship, mentions of cheating, swearing, emotional pain

requests are open!

you were fed up. jisung kept shouting your name in the distance, but you didn't want to know any more, you didn't want to hear any more. you were tired of everyone taking you for a naïve fool who didn't realise what was going on around you. ‘poor thing, she has no idea he slept with five other girls’, ‘i feel so sorry for her, how come she's still with him?’ you didn't know, you really didn't know how you could still be with him. maybe they were all right, you were a sucker, but that was going to change, you weren't going to put up with any more humiliation, and much less coming from him.

as soon as you arrived at the flat you shared with your now ex-boyfriend, you locked yourself in your room and took your suitcase out of the wardrobe to start storing your most necessary belongings. you didn't know where you were going to go, you didn't want to bother anyone, but it was either that or sleep in the street or stay in a forty square metre flat with the person you least wanted to see right now. either of the first two options was better than the third one, anyways.

when you finished putting all your clothes away and headed to the bathroom to pick up your make-up and all your creams you heard the front door open loudly and as hurried footsteps followed by several curses headed towards the bedroom.

“what are you doing?” the dark-haired boy asked watching you from the bathroom door, looking through the mirror as you put all the products in your vanity case, hands trembling and clutching things tightly.

“dancing a tango, wanna be my partner?” you replied sarcastically, taking all the courage you had left and turning around to face him, “what the fuck do you think I'm doing, jisung? i’m leaving,” you spat angrily, moving towards the door and bumping your shoulder against his to walk back into the room.

“no, no, no,” he repeated, shaking his head repeatedly as he moved closer to you and tried to get your attention, “listen to me, please listen to me," he pleaded, reaching up to you and turning your face to his with his hands on your cheeks, “it’s not what it looks like, i swear.”

“isn't it? let me guess," you began, bringing your hands up to his and roughly pulling them away from your face, “was it her who kissed you? or maybe, oh, i know, you drank too much and couldn't control yourself?” you roared angrily, pushing him hard in the chest, pushing him two metres away from you, “fuck you, jisung! i’ve had it. you've done nothing but humiliate and despise me. fuck, why can't you take me seriously for once? am i a joke to you, huh? is that it? do you think i’m so deluded as to cheat on me not just once but five times? do you enjoy watching me being mocked and laughed at behind my back? ‘oh poor girl, her boyfriend cheats on her and she keeps chasing after him like an idiot because she can't stand on her own two feet’!”

at first, your age difference was the reason for thousands of messages and threats directed at you. you were only three years older than him, and he was already an adult, you didn't see the problem, you both loved each other, or so you thought. the comments soon went from ‘old predator whore’ to ‘dumb slutty little girl’. you had to put up with how they came on to your boyfriend, and how he did nothing, smiled and even flirted back. however, when a boy came up to you, he seemed to wake up and didn't hesitate to shoo him away.

“no, that's not true. please, y/n,” he came back to you with a desperate expression on his face, managing to cradle your cheeks again and wipe away the tears you hadn't realised were falling from your eyes, “of course i take you seriously, darling. you're my everything. they're lying, i swear, y/n. i’d never do that to you, you have to believe me.”

you pushed him away from you again, and ran your hands through your hair, tousling it and burying your face in your hands. the moment you looked up again, you found your face reflected in the small mirror of the canterano in the room. a haggard, weak, sultry face. you dropped onto the bed, you were exhausted and you knew that this argument had only just begun.

“enough, enough,” you murmured, holding back the sob that was about to escape your throat, “stop lying, just stop! you don't love me, jisung. you never have and you never will. why do you want to keep me here if all you do is make me suffer?”

“no, that’s not true. i do love you, y/n,” he replied softly, crouching down in front of you until his eyes were level with yours. he brought his hands to yours, but you pulled away and stood up again, laughing bitterly.

“you have a terrible way of loving then,” you said, turning around and reaching for your suitcase, but jisung was quicker and wouldn't let you.

“i’m not letting you leave, not without sorting this out,” he said resolutely, snatching the suitcase from you and setting it in a corner, “it’s after midnight, you're not going out at this hour.”

“so now you care? where were you all those times i had to come home alone in the middle of the night because my boyfriend preferred to cheat on me with someone else?” you asked, moving forward again to grab the suitcase, but he got in the way and grabbed your arm, pulling you away from your things. you tried to pull away, but you knew he wasn't going to let go until you two fixed this, so you decided to continue, “you don't have to worry, there's no one out there who's going to hurt me more than you. you can stay calm.”

“tomorrow you can leave if you want, but tonight you're staying, okay? i can't let you leave at this hour, i’m not gonna let you," the grip on your arm was beginning to intensify, but he released you immediately when he saw the expression of discomfort on your face. he unhesitatingly wrapped you in an embrace and pressed you against his body, stroking your hair and resting his head on top of yours, “please stay, love. stay with me tonight.”

“how many others have you told this to? huh? how many others have you told to stay the night with you?” you asked between whimpers against his chest, clutching the sides of his t-shirt tightly in helplessness, “you treat me like shit, you cheat on me, you humiliate me and then you have the balls to tell me you love me.”

jisung, seeing that his words were having the opposite effect to the one they were intended to have, lifted your face and brought it close to his. he brushed your noses in a gentle but subtle gesture and, caressing the lower part of your eyes, he leaned towards you until your lips made contact.

however, the butterflies in your belly that you once wished would never disappear had, indeed, died. none of them was left. because jisung, with his lies and deceit, had killed them off one by one. until the last one that had remained until tonight couldn’t stand it anymore and vanished just like her sisters, leaving an empty hole in your stomach that resembled the one you had in your heart.

still wide-eyed, you brought your hands to his, which rested on your cheeks, and lowered them. jisung gradually broke the contact of your lips, until finally he rested his forehead on yours and let out an agitated sigh.

“you’re staying, right?” he asked once he’d pulled away from your face, looking at you with sympathetic eyes. but you no longer believed anything, you no longer trusted him.

“what would i gain by staying, jisung? i can’t stand any more humiliation,” you answered with a broken voice, trying with all your might he wouldn’t see you cry again. you hated showing weakness in front of him at times like this. you felt that if you did, he’d won again and you were tired of losing.

“please, y/n, please. you can't do this to me,” he growled desperately when you pulled away from him and went to pick up your suitcase. he tried to catch you when he saw you walking towards the door, but you turned and raised your hand, putting it in front of his face and telling him to shut up.

“i can't do this to you? i’m not the one who sent our relationship to hell, jisung. you decided to flirt with other girls, you decided to make out with them and you alone decided to fuck them. you’re the only son of a bitch here, and i’m not going to put up with you treating me like rubbish anymore,” you finished, taking the keys off your key ring and leaving on the front porch the one that opened the flat that was no longer yours. then, you turned to him and started to memorize all the details of his face, before saying your last goodbye, “have a nice life, han jisung.”

you left that apartment putting an end not only to a relationship, but to a lifestyle that had been destroying you for months. you didn’t know how you were going to overcome everything that had happened, but what you were sure about was that you weren’t going to go back and, evidently, you weren’t going to let anyone else treat you as if you weren’t a human being.

jisung’s punishment would be to wake up and remember everything he had and everything he could have continued to have if he hadn’t screwed everything up. now, when he got home he’d only find a cold and empty apartment. but that didn’t compare to how you’d felt during the last months of your relationship, and now it was his turn to feel the worst that can come from a toxic relationship, helplessness and resentment.

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arclucifer666 · 5 years ago

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The Auction

Pairing: Sam Winchester/Dean Winchester

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 2209

Summary: This is about what happens when Dean finds his brother tied up suggestively.

AO3

@@@@@

Agent Clegg is the Butterfly.

Sam curses himself for not realizing that.

Forcing wrists, chest, and ankles against leather in the last few minutes hasn't been effective. Still, Sam tries again.

Clegg sells people to monsters, sex slaves to be exact. And Sam will be next if Dean doesn't find him in time.

The transmission begins as soon as the computer and cameras are ready.

Sam keeps struggling with the bonds, despair preventing him from accepting the inevitable without a fight. Or he tries at least.

When the Butterfly announces his name, Sam feels his heart in his throat. The number of monsters bidding for him is frightening, and he can't help thinking about how sick it all is, even more when it only takes a few minutes for Sam to be sold. He can see on the computer screen that the bidder is a vampire, and the amount to be paid is impressive. But it's not comforting at all.

Clegg seems satisfied with the result, a sardonic smile on his face as he approaches Sam, and his breathing quickens, which doesn't help the clenching fear in his gut.

"It's time to show everyone that you're worth every penny," Clegg says while he starts undoing his belt.

Sam knows what's going to happen.

"Sorry, kid. It's showtime."

He pulls on the bonds with force, inevitable survival instinct forcing his body to go on alert. And that's when the door opens with a bang.

A shot echoes in the room. The man doesn't even see what hits him, falling to the floor like a sack of potatoes.

Sam blinks a few times before his brain realizes he is safe. Dean found him in time.

"Sammy! Are you okay? What the Hell is going on here?"

Sam wants the safety of his brother's arms around him, but this isn't the right place for it. Then he forces himself to respond in the most stable voice he can muster, "Sex, they're auctioning people off for sex. And there is a demonstration before."

A demonstration is what Agent Clegg was starting to do when Dean interrupted him.

Sam sees anger on his brother's face. He knows that if the man weren't already dead he would suffer a painful death at Dean's hands again. The sharp look also checks Sam before looking around, eyes staring straight at the cameras.

"The damn freaks are watching, huh?"

"Yes," Sam answers, then remembering the vulnerability of his situation, tied to a table similar to those for gynecological examination and naked from the waist down, ass on display.

"Turn off the cameras and untie me," he says, forcing the bonds on his arms and legs again still without any result.

Dean seems to come out of his trance, "What?"

His brother's look changes to something predatory and dark as soon as he realizes Sam's condition.

"No," Dean says.

"Dean? What the fuck, man?" Sam struggles again, which is useless because there is no escape.

Dean puts his gun on the table next to Sam, and if he could get that, he wouldn't hesitate to shoot his big brother right now.

"At least once in your life, stop thinking with your cock," Sam's voice is strident, reflecting the hysteria he feels.

"C'mon, Sammy, it's going to be fun."

His brother takes off his coat and tie. There is no doubt that Dean is impressive like that, intent on devouring Sam all over his face. And Sam likes the feeling of helplessness every time they use handcuffs or ropes in sex. But the timing is wrong, not to mention that everything is being streamed online.

"Let me go, Dean," he tries again.

His brother's expression is one that not even ten vampires could dissuade him from his goal, however. Determination is one of Dean's most significant personality traits, one that Sam has to deal with and often fight against to maintain some of his own independence.

Green eyes fix on Sam's ass, hungry and appraising, and it makes him feel like an offering at an altar of sacrifices.

When agile fingers open the leather holding Sam's chest and the buttons on his white shirt, pushing it to the side and leaving his belly and chest exposed, he knows that Dean won't give up.

"You'll need your shirt clean to get out of here," Dean states the obvious.

"C'mon, Dean. Be reasonable."

The smirk on Dean's face isn't reasonable at all.

His brother kneels where Sam's ass is at the edge of the table, and the next protest dies with the first lick over his hole. The hands on Sam's buttocks are cold, but the heat on Dean's tongue is abrasive.

"Oh, God…"

Sam's attempt to prevent his moans is pathetic, and this is all because of the tongue assaulting him. Rimming is one of his weaknesses, and his idiot of a brother knows that very well.

"Sammy, we're tough guys, and people are watching us," Dean interrupts what he's doing, a smirk playing on his wet lips. And fuck, Sam wants that mouth back on his ass, consequences be damned. After almost being raped by Clegg, he deserves a great orgasm.

"Monsters, Dean. They are mons—"

Dean licks and sucks again. Sam's coherence disappears. His big brother has his face tucked between his asscheeks, fucking him mercilessly with that sinful tongue. Sam's cock goes from limp to erect so fast that it makes him dizzy. He'd no idea how much he’s needed it until now, still knowing he'll complain because of the burn caused by Dean's stubble afterward.

Sam loves and hates that Dean can reduce him to a moaning mess with just his tongue. He doesn't even want to imagine what those people watching are thinking of him. Then he remembers they are monsters and it doesn't matter anymore.

Dean goes for it, licking and sucking, and Sam squirms his hole against the long organ. He needs Dean deeper and tries to show what he wants without having to express it out loud.

The tongue disappears then, making Sam groan in frustration.

"Do you want anything, Sammy?" Dean gives him a leering look.

Fucker. His brother has no right to know him so well and take advantage of him on top of that.

"No," he lies.

"Are you sure?" The little shit licks his lips suggestively.

And Sam needs that tongue back. He pulls his arms and legs, causing only the leather to rub against his sensitive skin.

"Please, Dean."

"What?" His big brother has an irritating smirk on his face.

"Deeper," it is whispered.

"I didn't hear that," the bastard insists.

"I need you to eat me deeper."

This time Sam sees the numbers on the computer screen increase rapidly, even though the auction is over.

"Do you love it? Don't you? Your big brother's tongue fucking your sweet hole?"

A finger touches the wrinkled skin, which makes Sam more desperate for Dean's tongue.

"Please..." He begs, to Hell with his remaining dignity.

A huge satisfied smile is the last thing Sam sees before Dean's tongue goes back to his hole. His brother laps at his entrance and Sam moans at how good it feels. Closing his eyes, Sam focuses on the sensations and how hot and soft Dean's tongue is. Step by step, he falls apart. And as always, Dean makes him come quickly and intensely, heat invading his body until it ends in white drops over his belly and chest.

When he can open his eyes again, he sees the mess he made on his own skin. So, the restrictions on his arms and ankles no longer bother him, and he remains passive on the table.

"Fu-ck."

"I'll get there," Dean jokes, getting back on his feet.

The swollen lips and saliva on it shouldn't be that sexy. Sam stares up at his big brother with half-lidded eyes while a hand collects some of the semen on his skin.

"It's not the best lube, but it's still better than spit," Dean says while doing a quick job with the improvised lube. The next thing Sam feels is his brother's cock against his entrance.

"De..." His vocal cords are still not working properly after a mind-blowing orgasm.

"Relax, Sammy. You just have to stay there, pretty and calm, and I'll do all the work."

What an idiot. As if Sam has another option at the moment.

When Dean pushes in, his muscles resist a little before giving in and receiving the big cock easily.

"Fuck, Sammy, so good."

Without being in a position to do anything, Sam just groans in response, his limp member trying to get hard again prematurely. The impulses start as soon as Dean is buried to the hilt, one hand gripping Sam's waist. And it makes him think of the helplessness of his situation. Dean is free to do whatever he wants with him, and while it is scary, there is also excitement with all the possibilities available.

"I love feeling your slutty hole around my cock."

Dean can't keep his mouth shut during sex, but Sam likes it because it's familiar, even when the lines sound like the worst kind of porn.

"You're so fucking tight. It doesn't feel like you take it up the ass on a regular basis."

"Shut up, Dean," Sam says, mainly because those freaks watching them don't need all the details about their sex life.

Dean raises an eyebrow at the unusual order, but he shut up. As a result, hips increase their speed, and all becomes pounding skin, a repetition of moans and grunts, and even some incoherent cries, which Sam will deny later, of course.

Suddenly he realizes that Dean is so fucking deep, filling spaces that should never be empty. He feels split open and belonged, so entirely that everyone watching can see it on his face probably. They won't have any doubts about who owns him. And Dean shows his dominance with each hard thrust, the unquestionable control over Sam's body. So, it's inevitable for Sam to give everything he has, his body and his submission to Dean. No restrictions. No boundaries. What they can't see, though, is that Dean also owns his heart, always and forever.

A second orgasm breaks through Sam's body, unexpected and just as intense as the first. His scream isn't manly at all, and a smile lights up his big brother's face, but Dean doesn't say anything, just pushing towards his own orgasm, eyes fixed on Sam's.

He marvels at the fervor he witnesses, and then heat invades his interiors. Dean screams his name with a passion, reaffirming the unbreakable bond that connects them. He closes his eyes and gets lost in the pleasure still running through his body, never wanting it to end, but the sound of gunshots brings him back to reality, making him open his eyes. Sam then realizes that Dean pulled out of him, picked up his gun, and is destroying the cameras installed in the room.

"Show's over," Dean says in his usual hunter way.

"Jesus Christ, Dean! Can you untie me now?" The awareness of his state returns with full force.

"Maybe," Dean says, a devilish grin on his face.

"Dean!" Sam hopes to be showing all the indignation that he feels right now.

"Just kidding, dude."

Dean turns his attention to him and in seconds Sam is free. His movements aren't as fast as he would like, but he manages to button his shirt and get off the table without help, despite the pain radiating from his ass to his legs. Semen is definitely discarded as lube.

As soon as Sam puts on his underwear, the door opens again with a bang. And this time it's Donna with a gun in her hand.

"Sam? Dean?"

Dean walks in front of Sam, hiding his half-naked body from Donna.

"Oh, my God! Are you okay, Sam?"

Dean answers for him, "He's fine. I got here in time. When he's dressed, we'll meet you outside."

'Okay' is all Sam hears before the door closes softly.

Blushing, Sam puts on his pants as fast as he can.

"If she paid attention to your open belt and the lack of his coat and tie, she knows, you moron."

Donna is a police officer, and Sam does not doubt that it was easy for her to deduce what actually happened here.

Dean looks at him, his characteristic smirk—and annoying by the way—on his face. "She accepted monsters were real, so I don't think kink sex between brothers is going to be a problem at all."

"Do you have to say it that way, Dean? Now I feel dirty."

Sam ends with his belt, breathing relieved by the feeling of security that the clothing offers him.

"Nothing that a bath won't fix, bitch," Dean laughs.

"Jerk," he can't resist and ends up laughing too.

"C'mon show is over. For real this time," his big brother says.

Presentable again, they walk to the door, Dean leading the way.

"I think we should buy a table like that, Sammy."

"Absolutely not," it's his automatic response.

With one last look at the table, Sam leaves the room. And maybe he has to agree that Dean's idea is interesting.

Maybe.

#wincest #fanfic #ao3 #tied up sam #bottom!sam #top!dean

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