#anyway just thinking to escape the memories

[insidekatmind]

Distraction- Hwang Jun ho

The gray sky of that winter covered the city as Hwang Jun-ho patrolled the streets with a focused gaze, but there was something inside him he couldn’t seem to find. After returning to his job as a police officer, his heart was no longer the same. The tranquility he once felt in his routine seemed like a distant memory, overshadowed by thoughts of his brother and the horrors he had experienced in the game. But that evening, as he drove along a residential street, a sudden action pulled him out of his introspection.

A motorcycle sped past him, too fast for the area. Jun-ho, without hesitation, stopped the car and signaled for the bike to pull over. The young man in the front braked abruptly, visibly annoyed. But you, sitting behind him, looked at Jun-ho, and your smile, so disruptive, left no room for doubt. You knew exactly what to do to distract him and make him waver.

With a swift movement, you leaned forward slightly, letting your bright and seductive eyes meet his. Jun-ho noticed you, his gaze becoming more focused, and a faint smile appeared on his lips.

"I don't think your smile will change anything, but I appreciate the effort," he said firmly, but there was a hint of surprise in his eyes. "A ticket is a ticket. There's no escaping it, even with eyes as bright as yours."

You looked at him, feeling his gaze penetrate you. The tension between you two was palpable, as if the air was charged with an invisible thread connecting you in a subtle yet powerful way. You couldn't help but smile again, but this time, your voice lowered, more confident, as you provoked him with an audacious tone.

"You're too handsome to be just an officer," you said, your voice carrying that provocative edge that you felt shake his composure. "Don't you think that's a bit... beneath your level?"

Jun-ho stood still for a moment, taking a deeper breath, as if he needed a moment to collect himself. His eyes scrutinized you, but something inside him seemed to be breaking, as if your challenge was not just a game.

"Flattery won't get you far," he replied, but there was a shadow of hesitation in his tone. "But I'll take the compliment anyway." Then, without looking away, he added more seriously, "Now, please, step off the motorcycle."

The silence between you two stretched, and part of him was fighting with his professionalism, while the other was already lost in that tension. It was impossible to ignore it, and he knew it too.

You smile and look at him. "Are you always this serious?" you ask, scrutinizing at him. Jun-ho remains stoic, his gaze still fixed on you, but there is a gleam in his eyes that betrays his intrigue.

"When I'm on duty, yes," he replies, his voice firm yet soft. "It's my responsibility to enforce the law, and that demands seriousness."His tone, so determined, contrasted with the internal struggle he was waging. Despite the professional facade, there was something in his expression that revealed a touch of curiosity towards your audacity.

You smile and get off the scooter, motioning for your boyfriend to get ready to run away. "Well I'd like to meet you then outside of your work, although I admit, your seriousness is very sexy" you try with Jun-ho.

Jun-ho's composure falters for a moment as he processes your words. He knew he should remain professional, but something about your charm and audacity was making it hard to resist the temptation. His gaze softened, and a hint of a smile played on his lips as he looks at you, then at your boyfriend.

"I'll pretend I didn't hear that," he said, though there was no anger in his voice, only a hint of amusement.His fingers tighten around the ticket he holds in his hand, torn between his duty and the growing flutter in his chest.

You smile sweetly. “May I know your name, handsome officer?” Jun-ho hesitates for a moment, his eyes locked with yours. The way you smile at him makes it hard to maintain his professional detachment. His gaze lingers on you, his mind going round and round, until he finally speaks.

"Hwang Jun-ho," he replies, his voice firm but tinged with a hint of curiosity.He watches you closely, observing your every gesture, his heart racing a bit faster than he would like to admit.

You nod giving him your sweet eyes, which no one could ever resist. “Nice name,” you say, looking at him. “As beautiful as the person who owns it,” you purr, playing with a lock of your hair. Jun-ho feels a shiver run down his spine as you play with your hair, your comment making the blood rush in his ears. He swallows, trying to regain his composure, but his eyes betray the growing fascination that he cannot hide.

“You’re quite... persistent, aren’t you?” he observes, the corner of his mouth lifting into a slight, almost amused smile. Jun-ho looks at you intently, the air between you crackling with something he hasn’t felt in a long time.

Meanwhile your boyfriend managed to escape without a fine seeing how Jun-ho's attention is all on you. Jun-ho doesn’t notice the boyfriend’s escape as his attention is completely fixated on you. His gaze flickers over you, taking in every detail, the curve of your smile, the teasing look in your eyes. There is something about you that enchants him, that captivates him in a way he hasn’t experienced before.

He takes a step closer, his expression torn between duty and desire. “You’re making it very difficult for me to remain professional,” he admits, his voice lower now, tinged with a hint of surrender.

You smile and take a step forward, taking his hand and caressing it, giving him your best seductive eyes. “Then don't do it,” you whisper, your voice as sweet as honey.

Jun-ho's breath hitches as you take his hand, the touch of your soft fingers sending a shiver through his body. Your suggestive tone and seductive gaze make his heart beat faster, a battle between his duty and the growing desire he feels for you.He looks into your eyes, his resistance wavering. “You’re asking me to step out of line,” he says, his voice a mere whisper, his gaze dropping to your lips for a moment before going back to your eyes.

“And it would be that bad?” you whisper softly. Jun-ho's resolve seems to falter as he hears your soft whisper. The intensity of the moment and the electricity that flows between you make it increasingly difficult for him to maintain his professional distance.

He takes a deep breath, his gaze still fixed on your eyes. “I could lose my job,” he says, his voice tinged with hesitation.His hand tightens slightly around your hand, the touch alone igniting a fire within him.

You nod and pull away from him, giving him a sweet smile. “I would never want people to miss the opportunity to see such a beautiful officer,” you whisper softly.

Jun-ho feels a sense of emptiness as you pull away, the absence of your touch leaving him wanting more. But he tries to compose himself, realizing how close he came to breaking the law. Your statement, though, strikes a chord within him.He looks at you, his expression a mix of surprise and curiosity. “You... You’re leaving?” he asks, his voice betraying a glimpse of disappointment.

You nod smiling. “Good job officer” you say softly walking in the direction where your boyfriend’s scooter was hiding.

Jun-ho watches you walk away, his gaze fixed on your figure as if he was afraid you would disappear into thin air if he took his eyes off you. His mind is conflicted, torn between gratitude for you stepping away and a sense of loss that he couldn't help but feel.He stands there, feeling an urge to go after you, to make you stay, but he forces himself to remain still. You weren’t just any woman; you had managed to shake him more than you probably knew, and he was struggling to understand why.

Jun-ho stood there, watching you disappear into the distance. The encounter replayed in his mind over and over again, his thoughts swirling in a whirlwind. The way you’d looked at him, touched him, the words you’d said... it all left a mark in his heart, a deep imprint he couldn’t ignore.

He took a deep breath, his hand subconsciously going to the place where yours had touched his earlier. His fingers lingered there for a moment, as if he could still feel the ghostly touch of your skin.

[thefrontmanscockwarmer]

Teacher’s Pet (p2)

Player 001 x reader [SMUT] 📖

Masterlist <- comment here to be added to the Taglist

Part 1

Note: reader is 18, senior in high school. We do not promote underage sex on this page.

Texts: you’re pink, he’s blue

In Ho pulled up to his own apartment. Looking over to the seat you once sat in. Now, empty, nothing but the ghost of you there. He could see you in his mind, when he closed his eyes. Your smile, your kind gaze, your hair flowing around in the wind from the open window. He looked down to his soiled pants. The idea of you so overwhelming he just had to cum.

“I’m so gross” he said aloud. Fallen? For my student? How cliche. He thought to himself as he exited his car. Really In Ho, how more bookish could you be? He let out a sigh as he started to grab some trash from the floor as he did every Friday. Blue ink catching his eye, hand writing that wasn’t his.

“That girl” he smiled and shook his head, stuffing it into his pocket. Tossing the trash and grabbing his items, walking up the stairs.

Hours later he sat watching TV and grading papers. Your number teasing his eyes as he begged himself not to dive down into this rabbit hole. To not dive head first into you. Trouble at every step.

‘Hey, I think you meant to leave your number for someone else’ he wrote in the message bar. Your phone dinged as you laid lazily in bed, listening to music. You smiled as you rolled over to see a text.

‘No… I wouldn’t leave my number around for just anyone’ you type back.

‘How do you know I’m not a dangerous man?’ The messenger wrote back. You were into this mysterious facade he was putting on. He smiled on the other end, daring himself to continue.

‘Dangerous? The face of danger weeps when it senses my presence…’

‘A beautiful girl as you? I can bet you are indeed a presence to be bowed upon setting sights on. William Shakespeare writes about beauties such as you, I never believe he could possibly be telling the truth. But yet, I stood in from of my Juliet and dared to the a rose in her direction’ he wrote back. He cringed at his own writing. Too strong. I should’ve been light and fun. He face palmed, I’m so stupid.

You smiled at the message, saving it in your memory forever. A squeal escaping your lips. ‘Then do I dare call you Romeo? Or shall you be my Gomez and I be your Morticia’ you were practically drooling now.

His own mouth hung open in a smile. Your response lightening his heart. ‘We shall be whoever you’d like us to be as long I call myself yours and you as mine’ he replied. His heart palpitated with every word of yours he read. He eagerly awaited your response, he was desperate to, would you have me? Can I be yours? He begged to question. ‘Then Gomez and Morticia we shall be. Death got to Romeo and Juliet too early and I believe we deserve something more immortal’

Your heart jumped in your chest. He was asking to be yours, he wanted you as his. Though, it could be just romantical literature talk, nothing. You shrugged, nonetheless, the man you had been desiring since the beginning of Sophomore year was texting you.

He stared at your text. Immortal love he repeated a million times over in his head. ‘I’d love to invite you out but I am afraid we cannot be too public. Though, if I could brandish you proudly, I would.’ Your heart dropped as the solid reality hit you. You couldn’t be go out socially. ‘I don’t mind the idea of private loving, takeout and movie dates are cheaper anyway’ you said.

‘Private loving? Hmm sounds… scandalous’ he typed. ‘Dare I ask what that includes’ he said. Your heart fluttered at the text. ‘It includes you, me, and a bedroom’ you tossed your phone across the bed. Eyes wide at your own words. He was definitely gonna cut you off. Back to just being a student helplessly in love with a man you couldn’t have.

He stared at your text, his own eyes wide and glassy. His cock hardening in his pants. Sex. Love making. Fucking, you. His body on overdrive. He called you. Your phone rang, his contact name on the screen, you shook as you picked it up.

“H-hello” you say into the receiving end.

“(Y/n)” he spoke softly. “The way you have my cock straining in my pants is insane” he said breathlessly. Your stomach dropped at his words, butterflies erupted in your pussy immediately heating up and salivating over the idea of his dick.

“I’m sorry” was all you could force out.

“No. Don’t be.” In Ho responded, pulling himself out.

“If it’s any consolation, I’m throbbing for you” you say as you snake your hand down into your shorts. Rubbing circles on your clit.

“Are you really?” He said in almost a groan. His cock dripping with precum, his stomach fluttering with excitement. He stroke himself slowly. The forbidden ideas of you wrapped around him and begging for him to move faster playing in his mind.

“I really am… when would we be able to hang out?” You ask. Entering a finger inside your pussy slowly. Holding back a moan as you did. Imagining his cock inside you as he spoke,

“We can hang out whenever… tonight, tomorrow, whenever you’d like. It’s not a problem.” He said, trying to sound as normal as possible as his hand made fast work on his cock. “We can stay at my apartment, or your house. I’d be more than happy getting you a hotel”

“We can really do whenever. My house is always empty, my mom’s always working or cheating on my dad with her athletic trainer, and my dad is doing the same but with some secretary from his job. They seldomly come home” you responded. You were two fingers deep and arching into your own touch, pressing expertly on your g-spot as you fucked yourself.

“Oh that’s-“ he paused to breathe. His cock pulsating in his hand, his orgasm threatening to explode from his cock. “That’s terrible”

“Not for us” you say slyly. Your walls began contracting around your fingers. “Hey, Mr. Hwang?”

“Call me In Ho” he replied. Holding his breath as his heart sobbed to hear you say his name.

“In Ho… I should tell you now,” you began to say. “I’m a virgin” an audible groan left him. Your eyes widening at the realization that he was masturbating. The delicious idea making you impossibly wetter.

“I’ll be gentle, (y/n). I promise” he spoke. A small moan escaped your lips and made it to his ears. A wide grin spread across his face. “(Y/n), are you… playing with yourself?” Your breath hitched in your throat at the question.

“Y-y-yes” you say quietly. “A-are you?”

“Please don’t be scared to moan for me. You’ll make me finish” he said. He was already on the brink of exploding. He ran a finger over his tip, a deep inhale at the feeling.

Your heart was beating at twice its pace. Your bpm well over normal rate. You fucked yourself, letting your small moans escape your lips. His cock ached to be relieved.

“You sound so beautiful” he told you. “Will you cum for me, (y/n)?” He asked. You let out a strained and quiet yes. Confirmation that you were close. “I need to hear you say it, please” he begged.

“I’m going to cum for you.” You respond your head thrown back, moans and squeaks escaped from your lips as you did. You listened to his groans. The sound of his voice filling the quiet void of your room.

“Oh god” he grunted. Laying his head back on the couch as he moved faster. “I’m gonna cum, (y/n)” You were panting like a dog in heat, your orgasm was just a few pulls away.

“M-m-me t-too” you said in strained breathes. Your whimpering filling his ears.

“Cum for me. Cum for me, pretty girl” he coaxed. “Be a good girl” you let out a string of moans as you released on your hand, grinding your hips up to seek more friction. He pushed his orgasm through, finally allowing himself to cum. His cum spurted out in thick strands on his shirt. Little flecks hit his face. You laid in bed as you came down from your high.

“Date tomorrow?” You asked suddenly, basking in the afterglow

“Thai takeout and movies?” He asks as he basked in the last moment. Your moans replaying over again.

“Scary movies.” You say quizzically.

“Of course” he smiled. “You are a girl after my own heart. I have all the scary movies you can think of on disc” he said proudly.

“Even the Halloween series?”

“How could I not?” He chuckled. You guys talked for hours.

“I’m going to shower” you told him. “I can keep you on the phone or I can call you back?” You say unsure.

“Either is fine” he replies, hoping you would keep him on the phone.

“I’ll just keep you on the phone” you say.

Taglist:

@christinamadsen @sebbymybaby21 @player279achlys @galaxygurlll @whamzou @watasinekoru @angelofthorr @whamzou @amandalol1414

[shehungers]

DARK POOL

aquatic monster x reader | 18+ | 2.8k

your granduncle claims that the noises coming from the basement were rats trying to escape drowning in the ocean outside the lighthouse and scavenging for food. more than being surprised by his audacity, you're astonished he hasn't noticed all the missing raw meat, yet...

story warnings; dark content, the creature is imprisoned, explicit sexual details, double penetration, ig the creature is experiencing some sort of rutting season?, some graphic + grotesque details, heavy prose + details, roughly proofread.

reposted from my deleted blog: theoxenfree.

this is an old concept piece for a larger story.

if you enjoyed, please support my work by leaving feedback and reblogging!! 💖

Uncle told you that the rats in Cape Tellis liked to swim and when they were in search of food, they didn't care how long they'd have to paddle through the water to find it. Some would simply drift with the current for days; black-gray fur rotted off, skin peeled off bone, little faces disfigured by sea and salt, but they would keep going until their bodies nudged the rust-red walls of the lighthouse and found the energy to scale upward to a window and squeeze inside.

He mentioned this anytime you had something to say about the ruckus down in the basement—sometimes scratching, sometimes powerful, erratic thuds that you felt pulse through the floorboards, through the rubber soles covering your feet, and into your skin. That place was sealed behind a rusted metal frame and door, deadbolted and locked with a key he always carried on a chain through a belt loop.

It always jangled when he walked because he had a limp so bad that his entire leg always dragged a pace behind him and took a great amount of effort to haul forward. When you had asked of it, as memory dictated a handful of years prior he didn't have such trouble, he first claimed it had been a bad sinus infection that got into his brain and disrupted something neurologically. In another instance where he had stopped for a third time on an evening stroll together, he had said he scuffed with one of Cape Tellis’ formidable rats and the mangy bastard had won and taken a chunk of meat out of him before scuttling back into the walls.

“Just ignore it, it's normal that they're active this time of year,” he was saying while scraping fried eggs out of a pan onto your plate. Meanwhile, you winced to the usual commotion downstairs. “They get real flighty this time of year. The rats do. They get frisky and chase each other all around. I don't know nothin' about them besides being persistent, ugly things, but it may well be their special season.”

You ripped a sharp edge in your toast and prodded the egg yolk until the sunny orb burst, oozing out across your plate before you could scoop it all up in the bread.

“How long does it take for the rats to go away?” you asked with some interest in his answer, if for no other reason to know what sort of yarn he'd spin next. The bread was buttered, the eggs unseasoned, but you ate it all anyway while watching him. “Are they permanent residents or do they come and go? You must be feeding them if they stay here.”

Granduncle took a long time to situate his bad leg under the table, longer to arrange his silverware and the direction of his food. “Oh, they have no interest in leaving, I don't think. If they really wanted to, I imagine they would've jumped back into the water and swam somewhere else.”

Each time the noises rose up between the wood slats under your feet during breakfast, granduncle told you not to worry about it, but you quieted every sound in your head to better hear rattling metal, reverberations of some sort—like having a man’s deep, anguished moan pressed right against your ribs. You weren't sure what you were looking for when you listened, only that you knew they were rats.

Granduncle looked at you, his appetite pushed away towards the center of the table with his plate. “Let's go for a walk, yes? The rain won't come back for a few hours.”

When you did walk after a meal, granduncle would often have to lie down with his dead leg propped up on a short stack of pillows for a long while. It became something of a habit of yours to exert him too much after dinner, forcing him to keep up with your youthfulness—your merry prances and unburdened soul.

For what it was worth, he did the best he could to never be a hindrance. He didn't seem to fully understand his own limitations either, making it quite a simple thing to steal the key from his belt loop while he slept—deep and silent, so much so that you needed to drop a tissue over his face from make sure he was still breathing—and unfasten the lock to descend a set of slick, stone stairs.

There wasn’t much at the bottom: a space half-flooded from seasonal rains raising the sea-level, old pieces of ship equipment hanging like ornamentation, an old folding chair that had yet to rust despite damp air, and a large hole in the ground that was dark like the throat of a nightmare envisioned in the most precious hours of night.

You held a plate of raw meat, freshly thawed from the freezer, outstretched with a flickering lantern in your other hand. Anywhere else, you'd have just brung a flashlight—but, he didn't like the bright lights, had ripped the last one out of your hands and smashed it against the wall. Oil lanterns were better tolerated, but he still seemed to cower from the gentle flickers.

So, you placed the meat on the seat of the folding chair and walked closer to the hole, wading a hand through seawater until touching braids of cold metal, chains pulled taut as though weighted down by an anchor. You gave the closest one a tug, always with the same caution as a child gripping his mother's clothes in uncertain times, and backed away.

He never made noise when he surfaced, always frightfully quiet, only indicated by a trail of bubbles that followed after where he roamed underwater. The first thing to emerge was a dorsal fin flared proudly from the middle of his head until midway in the deepest curve of his back. His eyes were on you, abysmal black things with a luster you likened to a landbound fish, and skin and scales that moved stiffly with his facial movements.

“You,” said the creature, toneless and in a voice far too raspy and deep to have an equal match amongst human men. “You have come. You are here.”

Months ago, he hadn't been capable of simple speech such as this. The noises he made were incompatible to anything you had ever heard—perhaps mere vocalizations he utilized underwater, possibly something long gone and archaic—but he had started mimicking you when you'd speak, and eventually you started slowing down, giving him the time to feel how the sounds vibrated in his own throat.

“I brought you food, again.” You gestured towards the seat with raw meat with your lantern, prompting his passing glance of interest before he was back on you. “Not hungry? He usually doesn’t feed you that well. I haven't been down here in a week or so, so I figured you'd be ready to scarf it down.”

“No.”

He came closer and the size of him grew, a towering figure with strong, broad-shoulders and a chest built to withstand the friction of the sea he used to own. His face, although hidden in darkness and flickering shadow cast from your lantern, gleamed as the light struck his iridescent scales. The shape of his lips were human-like yet taut, helping to comfortably fit his sharp teeth inside his mouth.

You'd wondered at times what exactly he was, what your granduncle believed him to be and feared so much to hide him away, chained to a wall. You fantasized that he could be the lost prince of some underwater civilization, or the offspring of several thousands of years of evolution between humans and something else.

He never seemed to understand you when you asked him what he was.

“Come,” his reach was limited by the chains that bound his limbs, keeping him shy of touching your body. “Come to me.”

With the lantern set aside, a distance you hoped wouldn't turn him petulant, you walked in his arms and the shackles and made home there as he surrounded you. His embrace was not the sort you could escape, nor was the kiss he pressed against your mouth.

There were parts of him you were too scared to touch, where his scales were like serrated teeth and he had much less control to retract at will like the dorsal find along his back. His lips were smooth and cold, however, a safe place for you to be on his body along with the hard flesh on his chest.

He pushed himself into your touch as your fingertips traced the shape of his torso, rose with the sprawl of his breasts and shoulders, molded into the ridges of his lower abdomen that you felt pulse and tense the further downward you roamed.

The sheath around his groin had swelled significantly and seemed to twitch when you smoothed your hand across it, kneading it gently to see what would come of doing so. You'd seen this only once before several months ago, a time where you'd been more frightened of him and fled from the basement for weeks when he'd acted more aggressive than usual.

It was one of the many things he had taken notice of that were perceived negatively—with fear and distance and shutting him away in this deep dark until you found the courage to feed him again, because your uncle was petrified along with being restricted in his ability to navigate the stairs with his lame leg.

So, he had learned to behave at the worst of times to keep food supplied, for you to stay wrapped up in him like this and so curious to challenge the extent of his self-restraint.

His kiss had grown full-bodied and restless and gone elsewhere on your body to a great expanse of skin. His face nuzzled into the fabric hiding your warmth from him, teeth tearing and fraying the threads that kept your clothes together until you stopped him.

“Stop—wait, wait, wait.” You walked back out of his arms once he was able to recognize the words. He reached for you despite the clattering bonds around his wrist, but you took your time to shuck the clothes from your body and fold them.

Once he had you back, he led you to the edge of the pool of endless depths and sank down inside of it. Your toes touched the very edge of darkness, stirring a rabble of butterflies in your gut that did not dissipate even once he resurfaced.

“Sit.” He gestured right at where you stood. “Sit down.”

The idea of having any part of your body submerged in the black water left you with little desire in continuing this, but you obeyed and slowly lowered your rear to the rim of the pool, legs speckled by gooseflesh as the cold water gripped up to the inside of your thighs.

“Yes, good.” He was close enough to push your thighs wide apart and stick his tongue inside of you. You took in a great sucking breath, startled from the suddenness of it and the long, articulate appendage massaging a part of you in a way no one ever had before.

You leaned back on your arms when they weakened and shook from the sensations, eyes flicking towards the drab ceiling, wondering just how far under the living quarters of the lighthouse you actually were and whether granduncle would hear any lewd sounds that were beginning to hum in your throat.

“Keep going.” He said when you moaned, tongue retracted from your body to mimic the ministrations you made with your hand and fingers while you stroked yourself. “Keep doing it.”

He nudged your hand away to put his mouth over that stimulated spot instead, sucking and licking along you with such fervor that you dissolved into hard pants and whimpers, tempted to close your thighs around his head and push him away as the tight warmth inside of you flushed out with a kaleidoscopic burst of color and cool air following the trail of something slowly oozing out of you.

It took a second orgasm and chanting turned to cries to get him off of you. That brief respite ended when he took you by the waist and dragged you into the pool with him. By that point, you were too far spent to have anything but unshakeable indifference to the depths and the cold.

His kiss was as it had been before, rough and restless, forceful in a way that left you malleable and melting against him. Even when he had your front wedged between the rim of the pool and his chest, you couldn't bring yourself to react much.

You felt his thighs mold to the back of yours before the slim tip of his cock pushed into you, the girth of it thickening considerably at the base. The friction of the water wasn't an obstacle for him to fuck into you with greedy thrusts that threw your hips forward, knocking skin and bone against the wall of the pool.

“Oh, oh, oh, oh—” the ridges of his cock were an unusual feeling, catching your walls in spots, spreading you wider when he'd withdraw part way and plunge back inside. “Oh, shit—feels good. Harder. Harder. Harder!”

There was truly never any way to know how much he understood when you said it, something called into question when his thrusts slowed to a stop, but he stayed hard inside of you. For a moment, the water settled along with your heavy breaths and blood gushing through your ears.

Things slowly came back into focus—the dancing lantern light, the room temperature meat, the wicked water in which you were immersed to the waist while the rest of you was braced by him.

He shifted behind you, adjusting his thighs so yours went even wider. Before you could ask the things you wanted to, a new sensation stole your breath—the swollen head of a second cock, different in shape and size from the first, pushed into you and lay flush atop the other.

“Don't—don’t move.” You were struggling to do the same thing with such an enormous stretch you'd never had to accommodate before. Tension built in your throat, whether a sob or a scream or your own anxiety, and stayed there to cinch your voice into silence.

He soothed you with lips and teeth all over your flesh; the back of your neck, the cartilage of your ears and the underside of your jawbone. His large hands left the shelf of your hips and felt along your front side, nipples, chest, stomach, and groin where he tried to recreate the same pleasure on you now as you had done for yourself earlier.

“Good?” He nested his cocks deeper when he heard you moan. The pain of it was beginning to subside, but the strangeness of it remained. “Is it good?”

“Just—just don't hurt me.”

His hands were back on your hips to keep you seated on his thighs while he thrust into you. It wasn't as easy for him to move as it was before, perhaps realizing the limitations of a human companion, but continued in snappy pulses that made the water lap at the skin on your back and turned your thoughts into senseless, garbled things.

Soon enough, you were riding a sloppy, savage rhythm to which you had no control of whatsoever as he chased his end. In moments where he seemed to regress into a natural state, almost animalistic in the way he rutted into you and buried his cocks, one would slip out and go forgotten for a time. The length of it glided against your groin, a smooth motion underwater that prodded your sore spots before he was able to fit it back into place with the other.

Amid your luscious sounds were those of his own; labored, air-sucking rasps that rumbled from places more than just his throat. They were probably never meant to be heard above the surface of water, just as he didn't belong fucking a human while being chained to a wall.

You thought about that fact while the last thrusts he took seated his cocks so deep that you ached, hard surges of warmth flooding your insides in a way unexpectedly delightful. He clung to you with his arms and shackles even well after he had emptied himself in your body and retracted both cocks into their sheath.

After a while, he hoisted you out of the water and followed you to retrieve your clothes. He stopped short of the chains pulling in the wall, watching while you wiped away the remnants of him oozing down the backs of your thighs and redressed.

“Don't go.” He kissed you and let his cold lips linger over yours. “Stay here.”

You returned the affection as endlessly as he gave it, only thinking that sunrise would soon come to pull you apart.

a/n; not even gonna lie, when I did a brief reread of this to apply warnings at the top, I burst out laughing at some parts. oh, past me, what were you thinking?

if y'all wanna see this rewritten and updated to better fit my current style, please let me know!

[skyheld]

"Did I hear you correctly?" The heat of the fire crowds sound from the space around it, and he wonders if he mistook what Ameridan said. There is no judgment in his voice as he elaborates, "You called yourself Telana's wife."

"I did, yes." It was a spontaneous decision to slip it into a sentence, but he wasn't being careless. As honest as Ameridan is, there is a measure of care in everything he says, the stories he shares of himself, of the past. He is careful when speaking of spirits, of tranquility, of blood magic, because a thoughtless word could bring the new Inquisition's reputation in question. When it comes to more personal matters, some things he simply prefers to hold close to his heart. Maybe it's a leftover from when he had enemies who would use anything they could find to hurt him—which he still does, though they are fewer and not as powerful. Maybe it is just the way he is.

But as he sits with Solas by the watchfire at night, their companions sleeping around them, he's speaking of Telana and he says, "it was a good thing we married when we did; she would not have wanted an Inquisitor for a wife." He's not certain Solas will pick up on it, and he's fine either way. It is an invitation, he supposes, extended to one of the people close to him he thinks will understand him the most.

Being Telana's wife wasn't a given thing, even if marrying her was. At first they just said spouse. He didn't like the sound of it, but it was what they had. He liked calling Telana his wife and he liked the way her face lit up when he did, but he never had a reaction like that to when she said spouse, or partner, or any other variant. They were staying at an inn in the heart of the Daled one night, and he was thinking about how nice it had felt to walk up to the innkeeper and say "we need a room for the night, and my wife wants a bath" and then he realized he had the answer right there.

He turned his head towards Telana and pressed a kiss to her forehead, where she had a small scar from a spellgone awry when she was young. "What would you say if I said I am your wife?"

"Of course you are", she said, scrunching her brow the way he found so endearing, "we're—oh, wife." She smiled when she caught herself, then more softly when she understood. "I suppose I would say, 'this is my wife Ameridan, who I love beyond everything.'"

He drew her head down and kissed her again so she couldn't see the way he blushed. "I like that."

"I would say, 'I waited years for him to come back to the Dales and be my wife, and I would wait for eternity, but I don't have to because he already is my wife.'"

"Telana..."

"I would say", she propped herself up on an elbow, so she was looking down and he couldn't escape her gaze, "'there, look at my wife, he's the most beautiful person I know.'"

"You wouldn't."

"My wife is a fool who thinks I'm lying, but I love him anyway."

He pulled her down on top of him, and flipped them over, and the rest wasn't said in words.

—

He's drawn back to the present when a log bursts in the fire, sending up a shower of sparks, and finds himself smiling at the memory.

"Spouse felt too formal", he says. "Husband.... it would have been what people expected, so then they'd have drawn conclusions, you know? And I've never felt like a husband. Wife felt right. I do not know if that makes sense to anyone but me."

[robinsnest2111]

thinking about a mötley crüe office au to distract myself from the bad memories ✌

if it were an authentic 80s office setting, the sexual harassment would be off the charts, makes me so mad on behalf of all the fictional female coworkers and secretaries tbh

but in my perfect little mind palace world, Vince would be the prince(ss) of the office, only doing the minimum of the required work, and spending most of the day seductively sitting on the edge of people's desks, chatting and flirting with anyone who doesn't run away fast enough, always up and about to go grab a coffee, etc.

the boss knows that if he were to put Nikki and Tommy in neighbouring cubicles they would goof off all day and not get any work done. but since they're in the same department and there's not too much space to work with, he puts Mick between them as a buffer. which works 60% of the time. the other 40% the terror twins find a way to cause mischief and make Mick's life a bit more miserable than it needs to be (sorry Mick) but Mick uses every chance to get back at those two troublemakers and always manages to make it look like he wasn't involved at all ✌

also Vince probably works on the other end of the department but somehow ends up near Nikki, Mick, and Tommy's cubicles at least once a day. being a nuisance to all three, but Tommy's the most happy about the pretty distraction, while Nikki's got complicated feelings, and Mick just wishes he could have a less chaotic work environment.

Vince would also try to get under Mick's skin just to see his reaction. Because he's usually soooo stone-faced and it doesn't seem like anything really gets to him. So the mystery that is Mick is one of the main reasons for Vince to hang around their cubicles so much.

Nikki and Tommy are each other's emotional support coworkers, literally work besties.

Tommy considers Mick as his second emotional support coworker, while Mick isn't too thrilled with any of them. But deep down he does have a soft spot for Tommy. When Nikki is out sick, Tommy suddenly turns into quite pleasant workplace company, and him being sad in a very kicked puppy type way over his work bestie not being around is also quite endearing. So Mick can't help but comfort Tommy a bit, and that's how they started bonding.

that's as much as I got so far, might add to this sometime idk yet ✌

[otaku553]

Procrastination doodles of sabo for the king sabo au :)

[warning-heckboop]

Oh to be able to make the complex lore comic that lives in my head about the concept of fairies, anti-fairies, and pixies once being a civilization of one single species of fae that splintered both metaphorically and literally due to internal conflict

[blackhholes]

teen wolf meme: [6/6] creatures -> ghost riders

In storm clouds just like these, phantom hunters would appear, riding black horses with blood-red eyes, and wolves and hounds at their side, baying and snarling. What were they hunting? Souls.

[fiendishartist2]

KEEP GAME CONSOLE RUNNING

[itwoodbeprefect]

i was tagged by @localsealboy (and ages ago, i believe, by @eg515 (? if i'm remembering wrong, then uh. consider yourself tagged now friend)) (edit: and @smileylover99, just now, very fiendishly. i see youuu) to post 10 gifs of 10 favorite movies without naming them - a fun task! thank you!! <3

so, in order of year of release:

i will tag 10 people: @redgoldblue @actingcamplibrarian @theartichokesarepurple @randomkiwibirds @glassmirrormask @beansterpie @ruztyryan @littlestarsailor @theparadoxmachine @vimesbootstheory! ✨️ of course with zero pressure, and also in the knowledge that i'm probably tagging some people who already did this, because i saw this going around a while ago.

[brionysea]

argyle called el supergirl + mike called el superman, but that scene was about his feelings and insecurities so the superman association is really tied to mike. superman and supergirl are cousins

[blueish-bird]

I read all of Part 1 after it was already released, but reading Chainsaw Man Part 2 as each chapter is being published is a new and at times difficult experience. Like, sorry, I forgot what happened again. It’s been two weeks and I keep getting distracted by Barem’s tits.

[gabbingwaves]

PSA!

Spoilers under the cut but GUYS. GUYS. Do NOT skip through the "Wait for Godo" quest! This is for your own good!

This quest is so creepy and for WHAT

This is a two second overworld quest! Run into a random NPC who asks you to go see about the missing guard literally one building over! Standard open world stuff! Easy peasy!

Oh, and also just go ahead and say hi to the random eldritch shadow being while you're at it. NO BIG DEAL??? (I missed capturing the first two text boxes where you casually notice a 'massive looming shadow' over the beach demanding your 'attention and submission' and this doesn't concern you at all. You get your memories back but you can't actually remember what you're remembering as you remember it. Just that of course you know these shadows. You remember how they'd dance at your command.)

(Like.)

(WHAT.)

And then you fight some super easy mobs and the quest just ends. There's no turn-in - the quest giver won't even talk to you. It's like it never happened in the first place.

Kuro, what the hell.

I love it.

(Also the implications of the 'I still have work to do' line. I picked '...I should wake up.' because I thought it was a better wham line if this were a book or movie or something but the implications of the second one are ruining me. That's a 'But I have miles to go before I sleep' kind of line line. That's the kind of thing you say to keep from going toward the bright light. WHAT was HAPPENING here.)

EDIT: THE QUEST NAME IS A WAITING FOR GODOT REFERENCE. WHO DID THIS.

[sunshineandviolets]

can't sleep just thinking about an au where the mc died during the murphy incident but specifically, Rebecca having to deal with history repeating itself as she has to tell another child why their dad won't be coming home tonight :))

[avocado-frog]

Month old writing share game

Thanks for the tag from @elsie-writes i procrastinated hard on this one but I think that the rules are just to share a bit of writing. So here's a little chunk from something I just wrote:

One time, a few years back, when Logan was nineteen, Lily was twelve, Jaxon was just about eleven, and Dylan was eight, they went to the park. He took them to the park to distract them, sometimes, but he didn't remember the specific reason that time around. Dylan had wandered off a little while after helping Logan pack sandwiches at home- after Lily and Jaxon already left- to go to the garden. Two older men, fifties or sixties, one in blue overalls and the other in a plain, grey shirt were teaching them how to use a rake. A woman a bit younger, dirty blonde hair in a bun behind her head, had a pocket of seeds for Dylan to plant. Logan sat on the bench to watch them, a bit warily. But they seemed friendly enough. Jaxon, usually, would run off to go find people to play with. He was sociable, he liked making friends, but even that day, as sunny as it was, it was still too early for kids his age to start coming over. Mostly, it was the parents of toddlers who wanted their kids to run off some energy. Sometimes, the toddlers would try and get him to play, too, and Jaxon obliged every time, but he seemed content with just his sister today. He didn't have any interest in gardening with Dylan. Lily was by the monkey bars, standing on top of the black platform underneath them. Jaxon sat on the ground, digging a hole in the bark with his hands. Lily jumped up to grab the bars, but she was getting tall enough that she didn't need to jump as high now. Once she had a grip on the yellow metal, she pulled herself up to sit on the top. She sat there for a while, talking to Jaxon about something Logan couldn't hear at the distance he was, and given his attention was split between them and Dylan.  Lily had swung her legs over the bars and leaned down in between the gaps to hang upside down, and of course Jaxon wanted to try.  He jumped up, just like Lily did, grabbed onto the bars, and it should've been a forewarning when his hand slipped before he regained his hold. He jumped up to sit on the top bars, and then his leg got caught in between, and he fell backwards trying to untangle himself.  He had picked the bar closest to the platform. Hanging upside down, right above the edge of the black platform, with his leg stuck in between the bars. He must not have been really thinking past getting his leg unstuck. Logan heard a woah, are you okay, that caught his attention just as he managed to free himself. And then he fell. And hit his head on the edge of the platform and hit it again as the rest of him landed in the bark. Jaxon hadn't even cried, which was astonishing to Logan, who had shot up like a rocket and rushed over to check on him. Because Logan would've cried hard if he hit his head like that. Twice. Lily had scrambled down to see if he was okay, too, but Jaxon only sat in the bark, moved to sit with his legs outstretched, one hand making a circle in the wood bits, blinking like he was confused. There was a steady stream of blood gushing from his nose, too. His eyes weren't quite uneven yet, but Logan didn't think for a second that Jaxon got away without a concussion. He instructed Lily to go watch Dylan, tell them where he went, while he took their brother home to check on him. Jaxon blinked again. Logan grabbed him by the arm, dragged him to his feet, and dragged him home, having to hold his own sleeve against his nose because Jaxon wasn't doing it himself.

Open tag since this is a month and a half old sorry lmao

[sieglinde-freud]

kinda glad i played fates, specifically birthright, before awakening bc i think if i played fates blind and then ran into the awakening trio as enemy units, and the fact that inigo can actually DIE, being as attached as i am to them like i think i’d be inconsolable. i’d cry real tears for days. worst descision intsys has ever made