#Primate Instinct

[simiansiblingsau]

If Wukong was born from stone, how were the rest of the three born?

I'm not surprised you're curious.

I was born from a storm, specifically the winds and lightning.. at least that's what the elders said..

Chikao was born from the waterfall and she was pulled from the stream.

Liù ěr crawled out of his twin's Shadow..

[araaaarchive]

[heedra]

im not afraid of heights but when i am on a high place looking down, or even sometimes looking at an image of looking down from a very tall height, i get a like extreme rush of tingling sensation to my hands and feet that i strongly associate with the urge to not fall. like the feeling of attentiveness in ur extremities you get from climbing a tree or being on a diving board. its hard to describe. does anyone else get this.

[nereidprinc3ss]

in the dead of night

in which spencer wakes up in the middle of the night with an overwhelming desire to feel you

18+ (smut) warnings/tags: fem!reader, soft dom!spence (certified nereidprinc3ss classic), sub reader, fingering, piv sex, praise, overstimulation, cr**mp*e (god pls we need a new term) a/n: this is probably THEE most self-indulgent thing i've ever written. but.... lowkey favorite smut i've posted thus far..... i'm such a sucker for disgustingly sleepy needy sex. just.... read it and u will see.... and as usual i love you!!! PLEASE tell me what you think!! MWAH

When Spencer got home around one in the morning, he’d been too dead on his feet to do anything more than get undressed, fall into bed, pull you close, and pass out. Now he’s slightly disoriented as he stirs, pinned between sleep and wakefulness as he realizes how you’ve curled into his side—your face is buried in his shoulder to the point where he’s concerned about your access to air—but each warm puff against his neck assures him you’re breathing alright. One arm is slung haphazardly over his shoulder and your top leg is wound around his. Without thinking, his hand cups the back of your thigh, stroking the bare skin where it presses against his hip. You’re never so soft as you are in sleep; plush, easy, gentle. Spencer realizes with some degree of frustration that he has to fuck you. That’s why he’s awake, and he condemned himself to the fate of it as soon as he touched you. 

Sometimes the impracticality of sex becomes so apparent he resents his own mammalian, biological drive to reproduce. It was never like this before he met you. You reduce him to nothing more than a primate doomed to follow its basest instincts. You make him feel stupid. 

God, he loves you. 

It’s with this in mind he drops his head to kiss your shoulder—a gentle sort of wake up call, as his hand snakes further around to your inner thigh and he presses his lips to your ear. 

“Baby?” he murmurs, kneading the smooth warmth of your leg. It doesn’t take much to wake you up. He thought after you’d been staying at his apartment on a semi-regular basis you’d begin to sleep through him getting up and coming home at odd hours, but if anything, you became more sensitive to the floor creaking or the mattress dipping. 

“Hm?” 

His fingers brush the fabric of your underwear. Your hips twitch. 

“Is this okay?”

You inhale deeply, readjusting your arms around him and nodding into his chest. 

“I need yes or no, angel.”

“Yes, please.”

The words aren’t desperate. They’re sleepy, mumbled, maybe even a little annoyed that he’s making you jump through hoops. The corner of his mouth twists in amusement at your perfunctory politeness and the way it poorly disguises your habitual impatience. 

“Thank you,” he says, rewarding you with his fingers pushing between your folds through the fabric. You say nothing more as he unhurriedly rubs your clothed clit, but he feels the way your breath catches for a moment—before pouring out in one deep tide. He presses slightly harder, transitioning from passes to slow, tight circles that elicit the tiniest, sleepiest moans. This goes on for a while until your hips begin grinding in isolated circles, chasing his hand. 

“Touch it,” you beg quietly. He can feel how damp you are through the fabric and realizes he was probably torturing you for several minutes, but sometimes he just gets so lost in touching you it becomes almost meditative. He pulls his hand away and snakes it between your bodies, sliding beneath your underwear and dragging his fingers over your puffy clit. You whimper but he quickly gets distracted when he realizes just how wet you actually are. Spencer sinks his fingers into you and moans lowly at the sound, rubbing at a spot deep inside you and rutting his palm against your clit rather than pumping his fingers. 

“Breathe,” he reminds you when he realizes how still and silent you’ve gone. A small amount of air escapes in a tremulous little cry as your hips roll gently against his hand—whether to escape the sensation or get closer is unclear. “You’re all wet, baby. Were you touching yourself before I got home?”

“Mhm,” you hum weakly against him. “Couldn’t come.”

Spencer feels like he could finish at the thought alone—the nightly phone calls while he’s away occasionally devolve into desperate phone sex and he’s gotten off to the image of you playing with yourself in his bed on more than one occasion. 

“We’ll make you come,” he promises, dragging his fingers from your soaked heat with bated breath. 

He pushes your underwear down first, until you can kick it off your feet (you’ll have to search for it between tangled sheets tomorrow) and then his own, inhaling sharply through clenched teeth as his cock brushes your tummy. Spencer hoists your bent leg further up his body, exposing your cunt a little more and reaching underneath your thigh until he can guide himself between them. 

The head of his cock pushes between your folds momentarily before he’s teasing your swollen clit, slipping the underside of his tip over it in lazy, noisy circles until you whine. 

“Stop it,” you beg, voice still strained with sleep, “need it inside.”

“You’re right, baby, I’m sorry,” he croons, pressing his lips to your hair as he notches his cock at your dripping entrance and slowly begins to push in. “You’re being very patient—”

He cuts himself off as the two of you moan in filthy harmony. You’re so worked up for him, so defenseless in your half-unconscious state that he slips in with far less resistance than usual. 

“Fuck, me,” he groans under his breath, hissing and bucking his hips when you tighten around him and cry out. He shuts his eyes and thinks of the Goncharov conjecture in an attempt to control himself; the i-th cohomology of the complex is isomorphic to the motivic cohomology group—and then he’s fine. He’s at least learned to stop rattling off mathematical paradoxes out loud during sex. “You okay?”

The only answer you have for him is an indecipherable whine that makes his chest ache. He rubs your thigh in sweet, soothing passes. 

“I know, I’m sorry.” A thought occurs—he chuckles breathily, seeing stars as you throb around him. “You never let me in that easily.”

“Mm,” you squeak, gripping his shoulder hard enough that it aches and he truly couldn’t care less, “you feel good.”

He exhales shakily, pulling out slightly before grinding his hips even deeper into yours. 

“Yeah? So do you, sweet girl.”

“Fuck,” you whimper, and he takes it as a sign that you’re ready to be fucked. Spencer’s not thinking about a whole lot as he withdraws all the way and you clench around him desperately—but somewhere in the back of his mind he’s realizing how much he loves your dirty mouth. When he was younger and dumber, he thought he’d prefer a girl who was soft-spoken and rarely (if ever) cursed. Now that he’s had you, he realizes how compelling and endearing the contrast of your soft voice is when you’re swearing like a marine. 

“God, I missed you,” he breathes into your hair as he leisurely finds the right pace and you melt against him. “I missed how soft and wet you get for me,” Spencer admits gently, eyes screwed shut as he rambles from a place of profound affection and not at all thinking clearly, “and I missed how you cry when you need it so bad it hurts, and I missed how sweet you are when you let me fuck you right after I get home and you’re so tired, just like this. You’re always so good, honey, I don’t know what I did to deserve you—” You whine and clench so hard around him it becomes an effort to push back in, and he groans as he realizes you’re already coming. “Good girl, baby. Holy fuck.”

That last part is more so whispered to himself, but he can’t help it as he feels you painting his cock with your release. You’ve never come this quickly before, and he slips his arm beneath the crook of your knee, pulling up and granting himself more access to fuck you harder and faster. You moan brokenly, sinking your nails into his back. 

“‘m sorry. That was—I didn’t mean to.”

“No,” he quickly assures you, breathing hard, “that was so good, baby. It was perfect. Don’t apologize.”

It seems the brief window between climax and over-stimulation has passed, and a gasp falls from your dropped jaw, arching into him as your body unconsciously tries to find relief from the sensation. 

“Oh, god, Spencer, I—”

“You can take it, we’re getting close,” he promises. Not a demand, but meant as encouragement. “Do you think you can come for me one more time?”

“I don’t know,” you slur, the words rising to squeak. 

“I think you can. Come on, show me how you were touching yourself earlier.”

You whimper, but slide your hand from his shoulder and push it between your bodies. A gasp accompanies the jolt of your muscles as you make contact with your clit, probably demanding too much of it. Soon, however, the conflicted mewls melt into a rhythmic string of delicate, short moans, so pretty it’s like a practiced song. Spencer’s brain, usually overflowing with words, is nothing but a void of swirling fog—each of your perfect sounds, a little burst of light. Soon he’s making noises of his own, which you obviously adore if the way you tense around him is any clue. Usually he sublimates them into words, but he’s too tired, and you feel too good. Your combined moans, along with the sound of him fucking you and the sheets moving over skin make for a truly dirty soundscape. 

“Will you come inside me?” you beg breathlessly, and he can feel the movement of your hand speeding up as you get desperate. He sucks in a breath through his teeth at your plaintive request—the words bring him that much closer to finishing. 

“Yeah, baby. I’m—fuck, I’m not going to last.”

“Spencer—” and somehow, when you say his name like that, he knows exactly what you want. He bows his head and finds your lips, mostly blind in the dark, kissing you messily until that split second where his grip on reality becomes tenuous before the building pressure finally bursts. Multicolored fireworks explode behind his eyes as he moans against your lips and continues fucking you through his orgasm in strong thrusts for as long as he can. Thankfully you finish again just as he’s running out of steam. He rubs the spasming muscles of your thigh deeply as you writhe against him in your typical push-pull style—you don’t know what you want and it’s his job to hold you still and make you take it. After a moment you quiet down, stilling in his arms except for the continued expansion and contraction of your lungs. “Oh my god,” you breathe. “I can’t believe I did that. That’s so embarrassing.” Spencer chuckles breathily—kisses your forehead with his eyes still shut and slips a hand under your shirt to rub your back. 

“Why is it embarrassing? I liked it.”

“I have never—it’s never been so fast! It’s not supposed to be!”

“Why not?”

You huff.

“You’re the man. Men come too quickly. Not me.”

“I’m sorry you had to have two orgasms instead of one. Next time we’ll make sure you don’t come so we can even it out.”

You bury your face in his shoulder once more, immediately softening. 

“No! I take it back.”

“I thought you might.” His hand slides down your back, squeezing your ass affectionately. “Let's rally. We need to clean you up, angel.”

The pillow muffles your voice as you say, “I can’t. I’m asleep.”

“Can I record you saying that for playback in the morning when you ask me why I let you go to sleep with my come inside of you?”

“Spencer, I am seriously not moving. You woke me up. This is not a me problem.”

That makes him laugh, and he presses his lips to yours softly. After a long moment of his mouth moving slowly against yours, a needy little whine rushes from your nose, and it becomes evident he’s successfully kissed the attitude from you.

“You were so good, honey,” he murmurs against your lips. Another (shorter) kiss. “Did so well. I’m proud of you, baby.”

A second soft whimper from you as you chase his lips and he gives in once, briefly—knowing he can’t make you get up after this. How could he do that to such a sweet girl when she’s obviously completely exhausted? Jesus, you have him whipped. He recognizes that. And he made peace with it a long time ago. 

“Go back to sleep. I’ll clean you up.”

“Thank you,” you mumble, already slipping back into unconsciousness like you knew you’d get your way. Knowing your boyfriend, you probably did. “I love you.”

“I love you. Even though you’re a princess.”

You laugh. 

Ten-ish minutes later, once he’s done the best he can cleaning you up and is throwing the covers back over both of you, you startle him slightly by speaking. He thought you’d been asleep. 

“I don’t know what I did to deserve you,” you sigh dreamily, snaking your arms around him once more. Spencer’s cheeks heat up at the memory of the praise he’d shamelessly lavished upon you not long ago. He’s glad you’re barely awake, because he’s too flustered to think of a response. 

He loves it when you do that. 

[jewish-kulindadromeus]

The annoying thing about all that seemingly bullshit hippie nature connection shit is that it's absolutely true

there is no fundamental difference between you, me, a random person in a random country across the world, the fly that just landed on your house, the grass growing down the street, the fish you ate for dinner, and the bird that's sitting on my computer

everything on this planet is connected and everything influences everything else and we are all inheritors of this spherical-ish rock's collective 4.6 billion years of history

we are all the same, fundamentally, just with a few changes here and there over the course of countless millennia, and we all rely on each other. eating is just the flow of nutrients and energy through the biosphere. everything dies because the planet changes and before we figured out how to modify our behavior during our lifetimes genetic mutation was the only way to adapt to that change. everything evolves. everything feels. everything yearns.

there is no "us verus them" for anything - not man versus nature, not man versus man, not man versus deity

its just Us. Us and Us. There are some of us who insist there's a "them", and that's a problem. But ultimately, they are still part of the "Us"

so it sucks, but the minute you start seeing literally anything as "the enemy" instead of "someone who has been horrifyingly mislead, because the vast majority of beings on this planet just want to do what they think is the right thing" you've already lost the plot

there is no enemy

there is no evil

we made up evil to try and make sense of actions we couldn't understand

there is only our planet, and everything on it, and we are all connected, and we all have to work together

I know that goes against your deep primate instincts, because you have to have a little selfishness to survive and that's where that lives, and sometimes that selfishness requires hurting others or protecting yourself from hurt

but the burden of being the first species (probably) aware of all this means we have to try to ignore that monkey inside of our chests and remember that there is no enemy. there is no them.

there is only us.

[cookie-waffle-art-and-stuff]

Listen; here is the hard truth capitalism has brainwashed out of you:

You are a primate, and one of the more naturally docile species at that.

Your natural instinct is to do a few hours of fulfilling work, and just enough grueling work that is necessary for survival. And then, your next instinct is to spend the rest of your day laying lounging around, fucking, playing, and occasionally getting up off your lazy ape ass to care for the more vulnerable members of your group.

Ashamed of living with your parents and struggling to find work? Don’t be. Humans do not have the natural instinct to leave home once reaching adulthood. They also don’t have the natural instinct to work all day, or to stop playing as adults, or to even raise their children in two-parent households without involving a tight-knit community in their upbringing.

Capitalism has gaslit you into thinking that you are somehow above an animal. That you are somehow more capable of hard, draining work that you hate than all the other intelligent social animals.

YOU ARE A LAZY ASS APE. YOU ARE NOT SUPPOSED TO WORK A 9-5. YOU ARE NOT A BAD PERSON FOR STILL LIVING AT HOME

[bogleech]

Your regular reminder that wasps are “defensive,” not “aggressive,” since 100% of their fighting instincts are to make sure big mammals stay away from their babies. They want you to see their bright colors and know that they hurt super bad so you won’t be foolish enough to find the nest and eat the larvae, which big mammals have been doing for so long, it’s what selectively bred wasps to be that way to begin with. This does include primates, including humans, in fact bee and wasp larvae have been staple parts of the human diet throughout history and there are still places where specifically types of paper wasp are bred as food!

[typhlonectes]

Nile Crocodiles Recognize and React to the Sound of Crying Babies

The reptiles may be aware that primate infants are in trouble—and an easy meal

Among humans and many other species, parents have a super sense when it comes to a crying baby. Something in that wordless call communicates distress so clearly that it sparks an instinctive response. And the cries of human, chimp and bonobo babies are so compelling that even other species recognize and react to them, including Nile crocodiles. However, to a croc, a human baby’s screams may sound less like a cry for help—and more like a dinner bell. According to a new study, crocodiles quickly investigate a human baby’s wails because the sounds of distress trigger a predatory response from the hungry reptiles. Interestingly, some female crocs may also respond because the cries somehow appeal to their maternal instinct. From humans to birds to crocodiles themselves, infants of many species use distress vocalizations that let their own kind know about trouble. The report published Tuesday in Proceedings of the Royal Society B: Biological Sciences adds to the intriguing idea that there is something so universal in the nature of such calls that they are understood by other species—even those not at all closely related...

Read more: https://www.smithsonianmag.com/science-nature/nile-crocodiles-recognize-and-react-to-the-sound-of-crying-babies-180982686/

[forsaken-headcanons]

okay hear me out. i was looking at the milestone skins and i thought of this so i hope you people see my vision too

so i hc that c00lkidd is a drakobloxxer. and since those are probably very unusual/endangered/simply hard to find in Roblox, it would be really hard to properly raise one. I think 007n7 genuinely tried to raise the kidd and did manage to succeed to an extent, it’s just that drakobloxxers have different social behaviors and instincts than Robloxians do.

examples may include:

- maybe drakobloxxers are less social and don’t handle large gatherings of people well because it triggers a hunting/defensive response.

- since drakobloxxers are significantly larger than Robloxians, c00lkidd could have easily been as tall as 007n7 at age 10. Who knows if they age differently - if we take the T. Rex itself as an example, the oldest one we know of is barely pushing 30 and would have likely been near adult size by age 15.

- I hc that drakobloxxers are partially burrowing animals [explaining their massive claws] and that’s why c00lkidd loved to eat dirt - it’s natural for them to snack on that, especially as nutrient-hungry children.

>- i also hc another use of the claws is display, as drakobloxxers will spread their arms and flex their claws as a form of anger/showing off in a fight-or-flight situation, usually with another drakobloxxer.

- facial expressions might be different. A great example of this irl is how humans use smiling and eye contact as a form of friendliness/expected behaviors when interacting with someone, but gorillas [and many, many other primates] would rip you to shreds if you did either.

I might add onto this later because I have Many Thoughts on drakobloxxers [I’ve been hyperfixated on dinosaurs for like a decade now and this is the bridge between that and roblox] but yeah. I think c00lkidd’s fate was out of n7’s control to some extent. Both in Roblox and reality, you can’t force something to act ‘human’ or practice your beliefs suddenly when they were doing something else for centuries and have it magically work out.

and as a final thing, I want to circle back to the ‘Drakobloxxers are hard to come by’ thing. That could potentially be why he disappeared, if we wanna chuck some more angst in here.

alr bye *skedaddles away into my abode .i won’t return for another century*

gasp. drakobloxxer hcs?? oh heck yes these are so peak omg. skedaddling with you as we await more food /j

WAITT THE SMILING THING!! dude wait. what if, because he was raised by 007n7, c00lkidd does smile in the ordinary robloxian way– it's just that a drakobloxxian smile is already seen as threatening to robloxian standards, and thus not many survivors can tell that he really IS happy and completely naive. gods. imagine 7n7 being the only one to know this... these drakobloxxer hcs are so good!! get yoinked /silly

[a-twistedheartslonging]

I love that in non-human AU humans are like, rapidly disappearing

So nobody really know what humans like since they’re kinda the template for everyone, like most carnivores assume humans eat just soil and herbivores assume humans eat just bones leftover (based on stereotypes on each other)

Imagine everyone being genuinely worried that they stepping on dirt is like them walking on Yuu’s food or carnivores handing Yuu bones from their leftovers bc they have no idea that humans can eat almost anything (besides raw meat)

(Only the science boys (Trey and Vil) would realize that humans have a very general ability to eat whatever.)

Hmm, kind of but not quite.

There used to be a lot more humans but that war with the fae, despite ending in the human's favor, led to a lot of numbers dwindling. Then after that...well mages only make up a small number of the population, and beastmen are all around stronger with better instincts and can better handle a dangerous magical environment.

Humans...well, although they can survive a great many things, still, slowly and steadily, small numbers become smaller because of this, along with the fact that hybrids' children between beastmen and humans always end with the offspring taking after the beast parent, humans were again becoming less and less.

Small numbers make it pretty difficult to find a mate of your kind that you aren't related to, which leads to more breeding outside of your kind. Then the hybrids that are born from that don't take after their human parent much aside from some less aggressive features and a calmer temperament, which is useful when it comes to more aggressive types of beastmen. Another thing that led to certain kinds of beasts in the past to seek out human mates and help in breeding out some unwanted traits their kind have but not changing them by too much.

Now as for not knowing what humans like...well, many assume that since humans and primate beastmen share common ancestors and certain traits, it means that they like a lot of the same things.

So, as a result of you being a human, you would be more likely to be gifted something like fruit and some bug snacks than..."dirt or bones" from a beastmen since that are just basic known likes for your monkey schoolmates at NRC.

Most primate beastmen see us as a weird kind of distant cousin and find it odd how differently we evolved. No tail or fur and weird flat feet, so much less nimble...poor things.

As for the general diet of beastmen, it's not too different from your basic human diet except certain beastmen prefer certain things. Carnivores can eat vegetables and fruits but prefer mostly meat and can handle raw meat better than others, though it's still recommended that they don't because of parasites. They still of course have the craving for it and it's part of why the cafeteria has meatballs with secret deworming medicine in it. They know the boys are just gonna do what they want.

Deer and bunny beastmen can handle meet just fine but typically stick to a mostly blant-based thing unless they're having a particular craving or need a bit more in their diet to keep healthy.

Admittedly though in general, eating bugs is pretty common among most beastmen but it's usually special ones from the store since eating random ones from outside isn't recommended because, again, parasites...they find it pretty weird if your grossed out by it.

Jamil is happy though that someone else finally understands his dislike for such snacks. If you want something to eat that for sure won't have some kind of bug powder in it for protein or whatever, go to Jamil.

[miifu666]

Has Sukhla ever met Macaque? If so, how were their first impressions? And how did the meeting go??

Yes she has!!♡

Ive answered this before but I'll explain it in a better writing, and also synopsis it jshsj WITH DOODLES THIS TIME

For LMK Macaque, They probably met because him and Wukong are tight, like two peas in a pod. That is before the emotional trainwreck that separated them, she still kept in touch with Macaque. Both have the same person to hate and bond about.

____

For JTTW Macaque, I'd say Macaque has tried to meet Suklha a couple of times only to receive certain information to gain more advantage in his goal. Even as a Keen observer, Suklha noticed too late, on how detailed this Wukong is when asking advices, how theres less trickery to his words than usual, and how indifferent he is when seeing her. Sure shes supposed to be all knowing, she KNOW who macaque is. Just not which one, yet she tried to beware The pilgrims, yet they seemed to consider it more of her riddles than warning. Brushing her own words aside, Suklha decided to give Macaque a test to reassure her own gut instinct. A simple challenge that even the real Sun Wukong would fail, somehow, this one succeed. Instead of talking to Wukong again, Suklha decides to keep this to herself. Both in awe at how the other mystical primate is able to impersonate so perfectly and seamlessly to even trick the gods and herself and in disappointment towards herself for taking action too late.

Suklha asked for 2 things, a flesh eating beetle and a trinket borrowed from Lady Shen. The trinket is a real item you can steal in a certain part of the Sea, meanwhile the "flesh eating beetle" doesn't exist. Its a nickname Wukong gave Suklha during one of their battles, even more so the supposed "Wukong" doesn't call out on Suklha's "shoulder exposure" like he usually would.

[sinnerdolly]

Good loser—Nagi Seishiro

Minors do not interact. Nsfw/Smut.

word counter—1160.

Plot—Nagi's just lost a game, so now he wants to claim his consolation prize... you.

warning— stable relationship, soft!dom Nagi, kinda public sex. Y/n has a bit of a pedantic personality with everybody except Nagi.

English isn't my mother language, if you see any error you're welcome to correct me.

People are complex, attraction even more so, added to attraction we have monogamy, which we want to make independent as well. Because holding someone else is a symbol of little commitment, but the separation of assets is logical.

Toxicity is quite abundant these days, or so I see walking the university hallways. Fights between boys over some bimbo with a nice ass, a primate situation; hippie allies philosophizing to fuck her "friend", plot twist she's going to fuck the biggest idiot of all. Because, I repeat, instinct chooses.

And, unfortunately, I found myself in the same situation. My eyes went to one boy in particular, Nagi Seishiro, my recent boyfriend. Five months of relationship, thanks to my desire to sleep at a party and him playing video games in the same room when I woke up.

For a prejudiced critic like me, not deciphering him made me interested in knowing him. Nagi was such an odd chap. At first glance he was lazy and listless, but losing somehow highlighted a passionate fire in his eyes that made me wet.

Like this moment, he had just lost to Ryusei Shidou on penalties, and he was heading towards my place in the stands, his gray eyes focused on me, sweaty and frustrated, desperate to claim me as a consolation prize, knowing how much I love to be it.

He stood out in the crowd, the imposing manner of his walking causing people to step out of the way. Pretty funny since he's the gentlest person I know.

“I want you right now”

I nodded like a fool, hypnotized by that aura of a caged beast that his pores gave off. The heat in my belly spread to the inside of my legs, the desire awakening in anticipation. The words he had just said meant one thing... he was going to fuck me in the first lonely corner he saw. So I went down the steps, taking him by his narrow wrist and we disappeared through the doors of the main bedrooms.

When the door closed, I couldn't continue on my way, Nagi grabbed me by the left thigh, and carried me only with the strength of one hand. Our noses touched, and his eyelids were no longer half-closed from laziness, but from desire. My mouth was watering from kissing him.

With each step the kisses became more intense, the touch had a purely carnal objective. My hand went under his shirt, feeling the smooth sculpted skin on his abs, while he dryly rubbed his erection against me. Sighs and ragged breaths, interspersed between lips and tongues.

The laundry room didn't have a key, so Nagi soon slammed the door to lock us inside. My feet met the ground again, while his hands caressed my buttocks in search of the condom that I always bring to his games.

I threw my blouse somewhere in the room, unbuttoning the fly of my pants afterwards. With impatience consuming him, Seishiro lifted me by the waist and sat me on one of the washing machines, finishing the job on my jeans.

Now with complete freedom of my joints, he placed me like a rag doll around his hips, pressing me against his chest. The warmth that his skin gave off took away the cold of that humid room.

He opened the condom with a slight tug between his teeth. And he scattered desperate kisses along my neck and collarbones, while he spread the latex along his cock. My fingers tugged at his white hair a little, drawing a few gasps from him.

It was enough to move my panties aside a little for him to slide between my rubbery walls, so lubricated that they didn't even need prior stretching. Of course, with or without games, it's always hard to take Nagi, if it weren't for his softdom nature, I probably wouldn't be able to handle him.

His thrusts were deep, as were his lips devouring mine. My body was pressed against his immense figure, while my legs were held in place by those large hands.

It didn't take long for the moans to spill out into the darkness, our gazes connected, expressing the sated lust for the other. I could feel his racing heart pounding against my chest.

The moment was so intimate that it was difficult not to come from the pleasure, Nagi blinded my senses, the chemistry between us makes the most ridiculous situations passionate, like now, fucking on a washing machine; but at this moment, with his member stimulating every erogenous zone inside me, it seemed like a scene worthy of a Shakespearean novel.

Nagi twitched between my walls, signaling that he was close. I let out a little cry of surprise when I was in the air again, holding on tightly to Sei's shoulders, who, with just the strength of his arms, began to fuck me with fervor again.

My moans turned into a kind of hiccup between jumps that made him put his hands on my butt. Stunned by my boyfriend's actions, I looked into his eyes, to find that obsessed look that only appears on the court focused on me... tss and I thought I couldn't get any hornier.

My lungs were suffocating, and my eyes were watering from the pleasure. I think my lower lip was bleeding from how hard I bit it, trying to reduce the screams. Almost impossible when his sturdy tip hit so deep, and his thickness stretched me so well.

"Sei..." I gasped desperately, tightly wrinkling the collar of his t-shirt. “I'm going... I'm coming”

He kissed my lips one last time, before convulsions shattered my stability and pleasure exploded throughout my body. My eyelids closed, and the waves of heat seemed eternal along with his attacks against my center.

I was so sensitive that I could feel the condom being filled inside me. Now still, Nagi held me while we caught our breath, still hit by the intensity of the orgasm. A minute or two later, he placed me on the washing machine again.

And, with a somewhat cooler head, we managed to talk.

“I'm sorry you lost, are you okay?”

I caressed his cheeks gently, while he replicated the action on my thighs. He gave me one of his taciturn smiles, Nagi is one of those people who smiles with his eyes and barely moves the corner of his mouth, an adorable detail from my perspective.

“Good? I couldn’t be better”

Sei pushed his weight forward, ready to kiss me. Apparently during our intimate time we pressed several buttons by accident, because the machine below me started to move, scaring the shit out of me.

Nagi laughed when he saw me clinging to his chest like a terrified kitten. I hit his shoulder, feigning offense, but he continued laughing... so I had no choice but to kiss him while laughing.

What can I tell? The other couples are shit next to us.

[fitteenstory]

Title: “Primal Form: Matt”

The alien had no face, no name, no true shape. It drifted like living fog, unseen by any eye, thinking in frequencies far beyond language. It had traveled across galaxies in search of life—not just intelligent, but embodied. It wanted to feel what it meant to be.

One afternoon, in the lush rainforest canopy of Earth, it found its first subject.

A chimpanzee leapt effortlessly from branch to branch, muscles rippling, teeth flashing. The alien descended like a breath of wind, wrapping the primate in a field of shimmering energy. With a pulse, the alien began siphoning. The chimp froze, then twitched as its thoughts unraveled—primitive, playful, and full of motion.

The alien absorbed it all: the muscle memory of climbing, the instinct to swing, the sheer joy of movement.

It now knew what it wanted: a body that could move.

Then something caught its attention on the forest floor—an abandoned magazine, rain-soaked and torn. On the cover was a human male, standing barefoot on a beach, skin kissed by sunlight, a confident smile on his face. He wore only a tight pair of red-and-black beach shorts, low on his hips. His name: Matt Sato.

The alien pulsed with a new emotion: desire. Not just to move—but to look like that.

The transformation began.

Muscles knit together like wet clay being molded. Skin smoothed and tanned. Black hair sprouted, framing the perfect face. In seconds, standing barefoot in the forest was Matt Sato—but shirtless, barefoot, and only wearing the red-black shorts from the magazine.

The alien looked down, flexing its new human arms, feeling the weight of pecs and abs move with breath. It admired the defined chest, the lean torso, the strength in each limb. But it wasn’t just admiring—it felt something deeper.

It felt wild.

Because in its mind still echoed the instincts of the chimpanzee.

A grin spread across his borrowed face.

Moments later, the jungle canopy rustled violently as “Matt Sato,” shirtless and gleaming with sweat, leapt from one tree branch to the next with primal agility. He whooped, mimicking chimp calls, hair tousled by the wind. His perfect human body, sculpted like a beach model, now swung like a beast of the jungle.

To any observer, it would be surreal—a celebrity’s body, clad in only damp red-and-black shorts, vaulting between trees like a wild animal, muscles tight with every motion, barefoot and free.

And in the alien’s hybrid mind, a single thought repeated:

This… is life.

[writingwithcolor]

Creatures of Folklore Who Represent Cultures Preventing Wars Throughout History

Anonyomous asked:

Hi! I’m writing a story which is set in a fantasy version of our world. The main difference between our real world and my fictional version is that the spirits and fairies of each culture and folklore exist, and that the majority of them basically stop war from happening because they react very badly (and potentially violently) when invading forces etc try to start battles. 

I’m doing a lot of research into the histories of the various cultures that will be featured in the books set in this world so I can hypothesise how they might have developed without, for example, violent colonialism, and where trade and so on might have flourished in its place. However, it’s possible for colonialism to happen through more insidious ways, such as assimilation. In one of my books, I’m intending to use this as part of the plot, where Japan will try to colonise the Ryukyuan Kingdom through assimilation, but will be stopped by the Ryukyuan Kingdom making allies with other nations (amongst other tactics), but I was wondering if you had any advice for respectfully handling the colonialism that very much did happen in real life in a fantasy setting where it didn’t manage to occur, without erasing the history and ramifications etc of what actually happened?

Do fox spirits have citizenship? 

You mean well with this concept, but there are multiple key problems. 

One major issue with cordoning off spirits and folklore creatures by “patron” culture and have them fight said patrons’ battles is that there’s a lot of overlap. It’d be hard for there not to be a conflict of interest. 

For example, everyone knows about the kitsune fox spirit from Japan. But the story of the fox spirit was introduced to Japan and Korea by China, where they are called húlijīng. These foxes are remarkably similar, with their characteristics and stories almost borrowed wholesale. Are they all the same “species?” If so, when small differences emerge in the countries’ folktales, how do you resolve this? Do these spirits also morph and specialize, or does one interpretation win out? How about when kingdoms are unified, like the Korean Three Kingdoms–do separate versions of the kumiho reverse-evolve into a single variant? What side do they pick when these kingdoms and empires try to battle? If they live apart from humans or aren’t very friendly with them, why would they have a reason to care about invasions when they have no reason to be allegiant to said borders, or whatever name they’re called in whichever country whose land they live on?

Folkloric beings are never static, and are influenced over time by cultural shifts and exchanges, including shifting borders. Human history is stuffed cover-to-cover with events of what we called “conquest” then and “occupation” or “colonization” now. And through these changes, cultures diverged and came together, creating new stories. In other words: not even fairy tales are immune to colonization. 

Leigh can explain the rest. 

~ Rina

The Problem with Retconning War

A very simple question for you:

How are you going to rectify every single historical war that’s ever existed?

Like, the whole plot of the Trojan War as we know it is that the gods of the same culture were on different sides! And the gods made the war last as long as it did. Alexander the Great was a colonizer. Romans were definitely colonizers. Ottomans and Mongols, also colonizers. It wasn’t to the scale of modern colonialism, but it happened. If you look at census records from the 1800s of Indigenous populations in North America, you’ll find that the men 20+ have way lower numbers because they died in war! 

I’m not of the opinion that the basic state of humanity is war and we are barely contained by base instincts. But I’m also not so far in the other direction that I believe humans lack any sort of warring instincts. It shows up in chimps and other primates, so it shows up in humans.

In a way, it sounds like you’ve taken a very Christian-fundamentalist-centric view of things, which is: humans need religion to be “contained”. That humans are amoral without some sort of religion or folklore or spirits telling them to not do a “bad thing.”

This is ignoring how people have been using religion to justify wars since religion was invented. As Rina said, there can be overlap in groups’ beliefs and deities so there’s the side-picking issue, which as I mentioned is the whole plot of the Trojan War. Even when humans write about gods meddling in war, they have the gods not all be on the same side.

Humans have war. Humans try to take over other groups because they want the resources that group has. Alliances shift. Territories shift.

This is also treating humans as a monolith—there are populations within the colonized groups that agree with the colonizers because they get benefits. Claiming that all colonized groups hate all aspects of their colonialism all of the time is deeply ahistorical and flattened. Sometimes the benefits were only for a small group, but sometimes the benefits were far-reaching. It’s in the India tag on WWC, varying views of the Mughals. 

Also, how will you handle the Christianization of Europe? How will you handle all of this folklore that only got written down via monks and nuns making notes and modifying beliefs to fit the Bible? Will any area with only Christianity’s records written down not have folklore? 

And how will you handle folklore drift? Religions are not static. If you look at Greek myths, there are ten to thirty versions of each story and those are just the ones that survived. Each city-state had its own mythology, using the same gods, modified to fit the local needs.

And what about folklore that deals with war and thrives in war? What about the gods of war and destruction? I know Norse mythology is Christianized beyond recognition, but even in its Christianized form half of it is about war. Would the Valkyries, whose whole purpose is to find valiant soldiers slain in battle, not want war? Their whole purpose is war.

Also, on top of it—how will you handle revolution?

You say yourself, colonialism could still happen subtly. Colonialism and injustice can still happen. Will these subjugated spirits force an already disadvantaged group to exclusively use a rigged system to try and politely ask for their rights back? Or would these spirits want to be free and support the means necessary to take it back?

War has happened to upend the divine right of kings. War has happened to free slaves (Haiti). War has happened for basic workers’ rights (some union strikes have resulted in war). 

You’re basically removing a whole toolbox in the fight for a better world. Yes, not being able to colonize because of fantasy AU sounds fine, until you realize that pretty much all of human history from the Romans has been created via war to some degree.

You’re basically just saying “violence is bad and humans need fantasy babysitters to not dive into it”, which really doesn’t sound that great once you sit with it. It removes human agency, removes human nature, and ignores the entire history of the planet.

-Leigh (Lesya)

Marika interjecting here:

We had an ask (Linked here) envisioning a story set in a de-colonized Hawai’i and the socio-political issues with that. Same problem.

[bloodchapell]

abyss — senku i. 1

brief summary: senku in poetry class??? why

what to expect: idek this was random

your sword's note: been feeling out of sorts and listening to a lot of pastel ghost. since it rained today and will rain all week in my city its like meh, idek what i wanted to do with this but welp, its just a thought i've been having myself of leaving class and climbing a tree or something, all parts of this series available on my mistresslist

The weather was horribly rainy, not humid rainy but more like movie rainy. 

“Inconsistent, like it’s attacking you in the face.”

“Like a layer of cold shimmer.”

The course name was so long that you actually just summarized it as the “oral poetry” class. That was mostly it, you would show up and make words up. Occasionally you would have to write as an assignment. It was an easy class, and a requirement for your major. 

“Stop listing facts, be more poetic.” The professor whispered to him.

It was a mystery as to why someone like Senku Ishigami, who belonged in the opposite building across campus, would be taking a poetry class; but there he was, every Monday and Wednesday for two hours, making up fancy words that were not poetic but pure science worded strategically.

“Rain, like a reminder of the heavens about our lack of control, a force so common, overlooked.” You continued, noting down swirls in your notebook with a mossy green ballpoint pen, 0.38. Luck, or the devil perhaps, had made you be his partner during class, so for half of the class you would talk back and forth about whatever topic the professor would write up in the chalk board. That day, the weather.

“I hate this stupid class.” He muttered, with his own notebook in his lap, writing whatever was more important.

“So drop it.” The same back and forth. It was automatic, maybe because the professor had conditioned everyone in the class to forget about the principle: “think before you speak” and simply let the mouth take control of the mind.

“It’s too late.” He sighed. You giggled. 

“STEM majors.” You rolled your eyes. “On my castle, the English department building nonetheless.”

Senku laughed too. After spending four hours a week talking back and forth, it had been inevitable that you became friends. He would talk about science and you would talk about literature. 

“The rain is just part of the cycle of water, a process that is usually explained in like third grade.” Senku continued, 

It remained a mystery as to why he was there, for some reason you didn’t ask. The rain kept pouring, and the day was somber, and since he was particularly fussy and kept accentuating how rain was simply water dripping from the troposphere, you took it upon yourself to make metaphors and allegories for the rain. 

“What a romantic realization.” You sighed looking at the window. 

“What is so romantic about this?” Senku lifted his gaze from the notebook. 

“Not romantic like that, you inept.”

“Ah, romantic like the movement.” He nodded completely uninterested. “Let me guess, you look —longingly because you damn poets can’t simply look at stuff without it becoming a deep unraveling— at the trees, and something tells you that you should be out there instead of being here stuck in a block of cement paying attention to what this old fart professor is saying. Well let me illustrate you with the following concept: evolution, and from it, let’s dive into evolutionary instincts lost in time. As primates, humans would climb trees long ago, before becoming terrestrial.” 

“Oh shut up Senku.” You shushed him away. The professor started approaching so you made something up. "Nature is a crying woman, she weeps for that is her nature; there is so much pain in the world, and it melts into the ground, the earth trembles. The suffering spreads through the... ehm..."

"Mycelium, like a plague that infects the species, and makes her cry."

"Brilliant!" The professor cheered.

You both shook your heads. 

"So you wish to escape to the trees like a primitive monkey." Senku returned to the topic. 

"Kinda." You nodded. "Damned Darwin, taking our tails away. And before you start, I know Darwin cared about birds, and was not the one to come up with the theory of evolution like that —I took Human Origins—, but let's have him as a placeholder."

"Delightful." 

"In global romanticism, we talk and talk all class about the romantic desire to escape to nature, all while sitting in a vertical extending block of cement, looking longingly." 

"So escape." 

"It is not that easy." At his remark, witty as them all, you denied. 

"Oh it is." Senku assured. "You are taking philosophy, you even showed me your test earlier, A/A- grade, what the fuck does that mean but sure let's go from there, fatalism, determinism, compatibilism, what is your take?"

"Compatibilism? We all enjoy a degree of control so for the sake of sanity. Determinism which is factual, scientific almost if I was to appease you... there are these conditions from which I cannot stride away from, like my background, family, all that predetermined stuff, I cannot really buy a yacht right now even if I wanted because I am broke, but to some degree free will is added to this messed up equation." You said quoting your test of ambiguous grading.

"So what stops you from leaving the classroom right now and getting lost in the small woods by the back of campus?" Senku kept poking at the question, like inciting you to rebel and jump out of the window to prove that free will is real. 

"What stops you?"

"The question lies in the start, not the middle point which would be the stop. I have no reason to go outside right now, no traces of my genetic past as a monkey, no romantic ideals. But, I will propose this, as a thought experiment, leave and I will reveal one secret of the cosmos to you." Senku smiled like he was a genie. 

"Why do you want me to leave?"

"I don't think you are capable of leaving."

"I'll do it if you come with me." You punctuated. 

"Fuck, it's another one of the principles being used wrong here." As if he was genuinely tormented, he complained. "Let's do this, for my personal entertainment. Leave and wait at the staircase for ten minutes, there is a 50/50 chance of me leaving but you won't know it." 

"Senku what the hell." 

"I'll get you lunch after, whether I do leave or whether I have to find you after class." 

"Free lunch... hungry and broke student..." You sighed at the dreamy vision, stood up with your backpack without even agreeing, apologized to the professor for having to leave early and walked out. He was genuinely surprised that you left, and after two minutes of pretending to write something from the empty board, he stood up, told the professor that something had come up and walked out. 

Either free will was at its peak, or the predetermined fate was a joke. 

You were sitting in the staircase, surprisingly no phone in hand, simply listening to the drumming of the raindrops on the ceiling. 

"Get up." 

"My free lunch!" 

After the few steps that were left on the staircase, you opened the heavy door, and lo and behold, the rain was there. Senku walked outside, with his umbrella ready, and you walked behind him, empty handed. He knew you hated umbrellas, you knew he was not sharing his, so you walked side by side with no precise destination. 

"So where are we eating?" Senku asked eventually.

"Well I don't know... you choose." With complete honesty you shrugged, and he was bothered. "I thought we were exploring the woods first."

"We are not exploring the woods."

"Come on, where is your free will, you puppet?" 

That made it for him. 

You walked together to his dorm, where he dropped off his bag with his very expensive laptop that he didn't want to ruin in the rain and he changed his shoes for boots, getting an impermeable jacket. You left your backpack.

"I would never suggest you break out of the mori kei style for the day, but be careful, there might be insects that will ten billion percent try to get a snack out of your legs while passing along their diseases." Senku pointed out. 

"Thou shall not fret." You lifted the long skirt to reveal a pair of boots and wool socks that reached above your knees. 

"Looks like fate was preparing you for the little escapade."

"Shut up."

The back of the campus lead to a small area of trees and a creek. Despite complaining that the scenery was perfect for a horror movie, Senku followed you, dodging branches carefully. At that point, when the light rain attacked his face and his hair was starting to give up, he started wondering what lead to that moment, but he kept walking. There was nothing precisely interesting about the woods, and after a short walk the creek was visible.

"Should we get in the..." Before you could finish the sentence, he was already speaking. 

"I am not getting into an untested body of water." Senku refused immediately.

"Amazing, now if I do, I will look like a primitive idiot." 

"By all means do."

"Bastard." You pushed him softly. 

He laughed, after catching his balance of course. The noises of nature were a soft background, and the pouring of the rain did not stop. His red eyes followed you, something in his mind saw it logical that you belonged in a place like the creek, with your ridiculous outfit and your head full of ideas. Outside of class, you two didn't speak much, though he had your Instagram and would send you memes related to whatever latest occurrence you had come up together exclusively for the two of you, the conversations did not spark online, compared to the mindless rambles during class and after class when you would walk together for a while. 

"Diagnose me." Out of nowhere Senku asked. 

"Idiot who is actually genius. Take 0.5mg of vitamin D every day." You replied effortlessly. 

"I meant if I was a fine arts student like you." 

"Hmm, I cannot see that." You thought for a second. "You would be a classicist and rationalist, my antithesis as a romanticist. Now you diagnose me."

"Genius who is actually idiot. Easy, anthropology of some sorts? Or pure astronomy if you could pick out the math like kernels out of a salad." 

"So you picked up on my stars poetry from last week." 

"I normally don't hear people talking about the star sequence and strange matter in the 'hearts' of neutron stars outside of the science department building, let alone the English castle. It is only natural for a romanticist who is swayed away by the sight of the trees from the window enough to escape class and go explore the woods while it rains." Senku stated this as a fact. Amidst the boredom of the fuckass poetry class in his schedule, he enjoyed piecing your words together like a puzzle, forming a very accurate impression of you. 

"You say romanticist like it's a derogatory insult."

"I am not too fond of the social associations of the term." Senku shrugged. 

"Oh yes, your other disease called aversion to normal human interaction, you probably got it at the Jupiter institution where all boys go." 

"Oh yes, the stupider academy, I have lots of memories of my time at the gas giant."

There was no award laughter after, though both of you found it funny, it was probably part of the odd conditioning of the poetry class. 

You kept walking alongside the creek, looking around and occasionally taking some pictures. Slowly the rain started getting stronger, but you were too distracted thinking of more analogies for the rain and Senku was too distracted thinking of the mechanical properties of the mycelium of a random fungus he saw. 

"That flower... I must take a picture of it." You pointed across the creek. Senku shrugged, staying where he was, simply watching as you zoomed with your phone's camera. "No, it's not enough, I must risk it."

He didn't bother to stop you, and observed as you lifted your skirt to cross the creek. He calculated the depth of the water and it seemed safe taking into account your rather dexterous coordination, so he didn't care, that of course, until you slipped after stepping on a wet stone and fell. He was startled, but his concern evaporated when he heard you laughing. Methodically, he got in the creek, and he walked towards you, extending his hand. You grabbed it, but when he pulled to help you up, he slipped and fell back. 

Another stream of laughter, even when you fell to your knees in between his legs, as he sat defeated in the water. 

"I am never going anywhere with you again, ever." 

"Your hair is actually pretty long when down." You said. "I like it."

"Let's get out of here, before we get hypothermia 10 billion." Senku stood up on his own, and you did too, forgetting about the flower and walking back. He kept looking at you, oblivious and uncaring at being drenched from head to toe. 

The dirt from around stuck to your wet clothes, and whenever the spring breeze blew, your bones would shiver, but it was all part of the experience of running away to nature. 

"Sorry I dragged you to this stupidity." You smiled at Senku after seeing him with a well earned furrowed brow. 

"It's whatever, I don't mind as much, I am not made of paper." He sighed, oddly calm about the situation. "I had fun, even if we fell into the fucking creek."

"Really?"

"Yeah."

"You still owe me lunch?" 

"Seriously? After everything?" Senku asked, baffled. "Sure, whatever."

[quitealotofsodapop]

I can see him patting Wukong's nose as a baby and making Wukomg laugh whenever he feels sad

MarbledEgg!Wukong is wondering how on earth he could take care of a whole baby Stone Monkey? He's helped raise many a little demon - he's not Grandpa Sun for nothing after all.

But another of his kind?

Then tiniest chubby hand touches his wet face (he hadn't even known he was crying), just below his face marking. A heart-shaped marking alike-but-not-same as the one on the smiling toothless face in his arms.

"Chirrp?" the little voice asks.

The word is unintelligble of course, the little one was barely hours old, but it had the same meaning across all baby primates;

"Why are you crying?"

Wukong feels his lip quiver.

"Chirrp? Chirrp?" "Mama? Baba?" It was like a request. The little one didn't understand who had made it. All it knew was the instinct that whoever holds them now should be their mother or father.

Wukong can't hold back from kissing the little one's mess of dark hair. A dark brown-black that makes his heart ache wistfully.

"Ok." He finally let go of a breath he didn't even know he was holding. "I'm yours. I'm yours."

Whatever the little one what him to be, mother or father, he would be.

"Cheep!" That chirp honestly didn't mean anything. The little one was just voicing its excitement at seeing the smile on his face.

The little one buried their head into the cleft of Wukong's collarbone, their round cheek feeling so warm against his scarred fur. A softening purr-like sound rumbling through the body. This didn't require any chirping to understand.

It meant "I love you"

"I love you, too. My Xiaotian."