#meow writes

[oceanwithouthermoon]

OKAY im posting this crappy wip kubosai one-shot because ive been lagging severely on writing... sorry if its cringe, its completely unedited rn</3

this is roughly 1800 words.. the actual wip is about 4000 LOL but i skipped a couple parts so this is about half the wip i guess..

Kusuo was sitting at his desk with his legs curled to his chest, glaring at nothing, when his phone dinged next to him. Already not in the best mood, he sneered as his eyes snapped over to the device. The noise had disturbed one of his favorite pastimes; being moody for no reason and doing nothing, and the bright light was equally disturbing. When he looked over, it also shone the time as "1:36am" which ruined his blissful unawareness of how long he'd been brooding. His unusually accurate internal clock could have told him that, really, but Kusuo would never pass up an opportunity to be mad about something stupid.

His eyes softened significantly when he caught sight of what the notification actually was. A text from contact name "Kuboyasu Aren" with no contact picture. Yeah, that was how Kusuo kept all his contacts. Super boring and super normal.

He clenched his teeth, trying to bring his anger from before back after realizing how much and how easily his mood lifted just reading his classmate's name.

His phone had gone back to a black screen before Kusuo could read the actual contents of the message, so he begrudgingly unfurled himself from his position with a heavy sigh. He planted his feet back on the floor just a bit too aggressively and swiped up his phone as he stomped over to his bed to flop himself down on it.

When he finally turned his phone back on, the notification read “3m ago” and he clicked on it.

The message read, “hey princess when u wake up do u wanna hangout ??!? could i come overrr tomorrow please”

Annoying lack and misuse of punctuation, but Kusuo has learned that this tends to be the norm in texting, especially with other teenagers. In all fairness, the way Kusuo texts isn't very conventional either. He made fun of Toritsuka’s severe overuse of emojis once, and then immediately got ganged up on by all of the self proclaimed ‘PK psychickers’ because he tends to overuse emoticons in the same way. He doesn't know how else to express himself over text, alright? He learned to text only from his mom, Akechi, and Aiura and this is just how it turned out.

And for your information, the stupid princess pet name was just some silly thing Kuboyasu had gotten in the habit of doing lately. Trust Kusuo when he says it's much more embarrassing when he says it out loud, especially at school, than when he texts it, though knowing that his name in Kuboyasu’s contacts was “My Princess :)” was probably even worse.

Anyway, Kuboyasu had clearly made the assumption that Kusuo would be sleeping at this hour. Well, usually he would be. Kusuo LOVES getting his sleep in, but he just so happened to have taken a very long nap earlier that day, so he had a late dinner, and subsequently a late dessert. So, his usually abnormally fast metabolism hadn't quite been rid of all the sugar and caffeine he'd consumed not long ago. A series of unfortunate events, really, which culminated in him not being tired enough to sleep yet. At least he got to get in his usual ‘angrily staring at nothing for no reason’ time that he accidentally skipped because of his nap, although that did just get interrupted too.

So finally, he responded to Kuboyasu with, “I'm awake. (-.-;) Sure, I guess.”

Kuboyasu read the message and began typing unnervingly quickly after it was sent. “really ?!?!? also y r u awake lol i thought u would be asleep hours ago”

The poor guy probably wasn't expecting him to say yes immediately. Kusuo usually would argue about it for a bit before giving in to the teasing and pleading of his self proclaimed friends. It was way too late (/early) to play that game right now though, he knew he would just say yes in the end anyway. It had nothing to do with him actually wanting to see the dumb former punk who he had been unusually close with lately.

The taller boy just GOT him in a way other people never did. His undying loyalty and honesty was a refreshing contrast from many of the other people the psychic was often forced to be around. Loyal, honest, strong, romantic, protective. Not that those last few things affected the way he interacted with Kusuo or anything…

Kusuo replied again, “Yes. And I usually would be, but… too much caffeine. (￣^￣)”

Another quick response, “lol thats totally something u would do.. since ur up, r u down to call right now ?”

“To call? It's almost 2am. ಠ_ಠ Why are YOU awake anyway?”

“lol i know i know but im so bored… i just cant sleep.. we can be quiet on the call, but id like to hear ur voice right now :)”

Good grief, ew. How disgusting. “Hm… okay. ∩(｡-_-｡)∩”

(Don't you dare ask Kusuo why his internal monologue is so different from what he actually replies with. It's definitely not because he's an unreliable narrator who doesn't want to admit to himself or anyone that he actually wants to talk to a boy. Why would that be the case? Don't be dumb.)

Kusuo forgot to turn his ringer off before Kuboyasu could call him, so despite entirely expecting the phone call, the loud ringing startled him into dropping his phone on his face. How embarrassing, all-powerful psychic drops his phone on his face at almost 2am.

He scrambled to pick it back up and answer it so that the noise wouldn't wake up his parents. It would be really easy for him to just lull them back to sleep with his telepathy the second they wake up, but it would be inconvenient and his dad might complain in the morning. About either remembering waking up or just about not getting a good night’s sleep.

He finally clicked the answer button, luckily before his parents could wake up, and held back a sigh as he held the phone up to his ear.

“Hey, princess!” Kuboyasu was speaking in a whisper yell, probably also a room away from his sleeping parents.

“Hello.” He tried to speak in a way that wouldn't give away the fact that he was recovering from a smack to the face. Phone calls were a bit awkward for Kusuo, since microphones didn't pick up on his telepathy so he had to use his actual voice to speak over the phone. He always just hoped people wouldn't notice the extra rasp to his voice, but the late hour might work in his favor in this situation.

“So what have you been up to?”

“Nothing.”

“Nothing? Up at 2 am and you're just sitting there, doing nothing?”

“Yes, that's exactly what I've been doing. What else is there to do at 2am?”

“Well, I've been making the most of MY time, personally.”

“And how have you been doing that, exactly?”

“Thinkin’ about you.”

“...”

“...”

“... *snort*” Okay, how could that NOT make him laugh? He took the phone slightly away from his face and laughed into his hand.

“What?? It's true!” The idiot couldn't hold back his laughter either.

“Yeah, yeah, okay… whatever, you're such a pain…”

“Yeah? Am I?”

“Yes.”

“And yet, you're here talking to me at 2 am just because I asked you to? Admit it, you love it.”

“Tch. You really need to get over yourself, you know that?”

“Well. Humor me for a bit longer, will you?”

“You're desperate.”

“For you.”

Kusuo muttered into his hand, “Oh my god.”

“I wish I could see your face right now, I know you're blushing.”

“Yeah, right. Not like you can prove that.”

“You want me to?”

“What do you mean?”

“You want me to come over there and check?”

Kusuo could hear the smirk in Kuboyasu’s voice. The jerk knew Kusuo couldn't say no to him. They both knew this game. Kusuo would deny him just for show, even though they both know he wants to say yes, and Kuboyasu would tease the truth out of him. Well, fine. Kusuo could play this game.

“You want to sneak out of your house and into mine at 2am just so you can check how successful your teasing is?”

“Mhm. Not just that, I would do anything to see my pretty princess’ face right now. I'm bored, you're bored, the only solution is for the knight to rescue the princess from this ailment, obviously.”

“You're an idiot.”

“You want to see me, I know it.” And he did. Kusuo could hear shuffling over the phone. That asshole was probably already putting his shoes on, knowing Kusuo would say yes. “What, you scared to prove me right? You don't want me to see your pretty pink face right now?”

… Kuboyasu was good at this game. He knows that husky voice is fucking irresistible. To Kusuo, at least. “... Okay, okay. Only so I can prove you WRONG.”

He knew Kuboyasu was smiling, but then the mood settled a bit. “You serious, Saiki? I know I'm messing with you, but I won't pressure you if you don't wanna sneak me in. I mean, that's kinda a lot to ask now that I'm thinkin’ about it. I really wanna see you, but I wouldn't make you do that.”

“Yeah, yeah, shut up, I've already made up my mind. Are YOU sure? You realize how late and dark it is, yeah? You can't just stroll the streets at 2 am, you're gonna get hurt.”

“Awee, you worried about me, princess? No need, your knight in shining armor can protect himself just fine.”

"... Fine. Just stay on the phone with me."

"Hm? While I walk?"

He figured Kuboyasu wouldn't want to have a conversation over the phone in favor of paying attention to his surroundings, but... Kusuo couldn't help but be nervous about his friend's safety at this hour. He just wanted to make sure he was fine the whole walk.

"We don't have to talk, just... stay on the phone with me..."

Kuboyasu snorted. "What, you gonna miss me in those, what, ten whole minutes?"

Kusuo scoffed quietly. "Don't be so full of yourself. I'm just making sure you don't trip and fall or something at 2am on the way to my house. Wouldn't want the blame to fall back on me." He somehow still managed to convey snark in his almost monotone voice despite his whisper.

Kuboyasu chuckled softly, as he snarked back teasingly, "You know I can take care of myself. Can't believe you're still worried about me~."

Kusuo did know that. It didn't change anything. And he WASN'T worried, he just knew that his various nuisances tended to get into trouble when he wasn't there to monitor them. He was always getting them out of trouble even in broad daylight, so there was absolutely no reason to think that walking alone in the middle of the night would prove to be an exception.

"Just shut up and don't hang up, alright?"

He heard the quiet creak of a door closing and shutting, barely drowning out Kuboyasu’s attempt at muffling his laughter. "Alright, sweet boy. I'm right here."

-

EWWWW CRINGEE EW THEY HAVE COOTIES

[meow-writer-cat]

They thought they would hide... in the dark... in the gloom... between the rooting, yellow walls of the studio, inside the ink domain... but humans always find an enterance where they want to enter.

The fools entered the studio, obtaining the book of illusions - a book writen by man, but capable of destroying an entire society . The fools did what the book said, even if that could bring destruction to the world.

The kind of the Dark Puddles emerged from the darkness of the cage of cycles, emerging into the outside world. Spreading it's black roots among the city streets, someone managed to stop it with a ritual... but the people who absorbed it's ink remained so. Possesed by the wonderful taste of the king's black ink, they wanted more.

The town was possesed and the king hide back in his cage, in the chains. Fools still believe that the demon will come to them - he will free them from this world. Without realizing the danger, someone will one day wake up the demon king and thell him to fix it, restoring order of the world.

------

Bendy AU fanfiction comming on Wattpad soon

[heartswithinreach]

sylus always answers your calls. always. no exceptions.

he could be in the middle of a gun fight or a messy interrogation but when he hears the inside joke of a ringtone he set for you, he uses his evol to shackle everyone in place while he answers, calm and collected as can be.

“kitten, it’s late in linkon — you should be sleeping. no, i’m not busy at the moment.” a cold glare is the only warning his enemies get to stay quiet. “what do you need?”

some of the world’s most powerful and feared men have had their final agonizing moments prolonged by listening to the leader of onychinus sweet-talk you.

[mischievous-thunder]

When you meet someone so beautiful that you forget to utter proper coherent sentences

[foldingfittedsheets]

My nana maternal grandmother who taught me swears had one of the most ridiculous pet names for her cat when I was growing up. For reasons known only to her, she simply called the cat: Kitty Kitty Meow Meow. The creature in question was an absolute love bug and lived to be almost twenty.

When I was dating my last boyfriend Brendan we ended up living with his mom briefly before we moved up north together, and his sister lived at home too. One day I was sitting in the kitchen and heard Brendan call teasingly to his sister, “Okay, Miss Kitty Kitty Meow Meow!”

His sister laughed but my head shot up. “What did you just say?”

Brendan ambled over to me, “Oh, it’s an old inside joke. There was this one day I was riding the bus to Charlie’s house and I heard this girl on the bus say her grandma’s cat was named Kitty Kitty Meow Meow. It was so stupid I rushed home to tell my sister. It’s like naming a dog Doggy Doggy Bark Bark.” He was hysterically giggling just relating this story.

I stared at him.

I said, “Charlie and I were on the same bus route.”

He blinked, his giggles tapering down and slowly started to frown.

“That girl was me. That is the name of my nana’s cat.”

It turned out that while Brendan, a year younger than me, had never met me before we both graduated high school, he had apparently sat behind me once on the bus and turned a brief snippet of my life into a meme with his sister. Then a decade later we met through Charlie in college and went on to date. We were both flabbergasted by this coincidence.

But there was one more twist in store for me. I told my family about the way our paths had crossed before we ever dated and they thought it was hilarious.

Then a few weeks later I got a frantic call from my parents while they were in California visiting my paternal grandmother.

“Hey guys, what’s going on?”

There was weird excited static and thumps as the phone passed around and I heard my dad in the background urging my grandma, “Tell her!”

My grandma said ponderously, “You know my cats name is Kiki.”

“Of course, it’s a really cute name.”

“Your dad wants me to tell you the full thing.”

My eyes widened. I could not believe what was about to happen to me but I knew it was coming.

“Her name is Ki-Ki Meow Meow.”

I got it on both sides. Both my grandmas, in different states, with no contact, had named their cats the same silly ridiculous thing. I immediately ran to tell Brendan who laughed so hard he almost threw up.

[teddybeartoji]

18+ mdni; gn!reader

sometimes when toji fucks you, it's just so overwhelming that you go quiet. no loud moans or whines – the only sounds that manage to slip from your bitten lips are shaky gasps and a few mewls here and there. it's just too fucking good.

he doesn't pressure you to make more noise either – he knows you feel good without having to tell him so. he can see it and he can feel it; he reads your body like a book, he caresses your sides and kisses your neck – he knows your language better than anything else in the world.

your heels dig into his back as you pull him closer, deeper, while your hands press against his hot skin. you're pulling and pushing him at the same time, it isn't enough and it's too fucking much at the same time. your eyes cross and you can't think about anything else other than him; he's so fucking heavy on top of you and it almost feels like he's going to suffocate you. you want him to.

his lips are glued to your jaw and his hot breath fans your already hot skin; your eyes roll back inside your own head as your back arches off the bed and into his hold. toji uses the moment to slip his hand under you to keep you flush against him and it's all so fucking much. your breath gets stuck in your throat when he rolls his hips with precision, successfully hitting your sensitive spot over and over again.

"breathe, baby, breathe."

his voice has never been softer, more caring, than it is now. he whispers the words into your skin, he carves them right into your pulse point before pressing a kiss in the exact same place. it's intimate, you feel his love. he waits for you to do it; he slows his hips just a tad and waits. rough fingers find your warm cheek as he tilts your face to his, your noses brush and lips touch - he's everywhere.

you take in a shaky breath and he kisses away the tears of pleasure that trickle from the corner of your eyes as a reward. toji grinds his hips into yours without ever pulling out even an inch and he smiles to himself when you let out a quiet broken mewl. it's a silent cry, a tell-tale sign that he's about to get to watch you unravel in his very arms.

he doesn't stop pressing messy kisses all over your face as he rolls his hips against yours; as you cry out in his hold, as you tremble and twitch, as you whisper his name like it's your own personal mantra. you try to crane your neck to escape his overbearing presence but he doesn't let you – he moves his head with you, his eyes glued to your blissed out face, your furrowed brows and your parted lips, as he pumps you full of his seed. you're all he needs. your pleasure is all he needs.

[mimiiis]

Sugar (Remmick x Fem! Reader)

summary: Remmick needs you a bit too much

warnings: mdni (18+)— smut, pure filth, porn w sooome plot, dry humping, thigh/pussy fucking, desperate Remmick, horny ass reader, dirty talk, creampie, breeding kink, raw sex (!Not proofread!)

word count: 4.5k

a/n: wanted to try my hand at desperate remmick.-- this has probably been done a hundred times but i still wanted to try my hand at it ;P! Was in a bit of a writers block and I'm trying to get more comfortable writing smut, so this fic is a result of that! I hope u guys enjoy <\3

 For so long, he spent his life in the shadows. Knowing nothing but the gore and brutal nature of his existence. With the moon's cold light being the only gleam of beauty in his long and desperate life.

He had long forgotten what the sun felt like. What it was like to spend a day beneath its warm touch. To sweat underneath the scorching heat, only being able to feel its passing presence on hot summer nights. 

He even missed the fruits that would sprout from the ground. Their sweet taste lavished upon his tongue like the finest of ambrosia. It all tasted like ash to him now, bitter and cold just like the nights he was forced to spend eternity in. 

Oh how he missed feeling alive. 

He had been so lost. So tired, desperate, and deprived of all good in this dying world. Until, suddenly, there was you. 

Sweet, soft, gentle. You, whose smile shone like the sun. With soft hands and a tender heart, you brought him all the sweetness he missed from those summer fruits. You became the light in his darkness, and Remmick was almost scared he would burn beneath your gaze. 

He wasn't sure how someone so beautiful, so pure and sweet as you could love him. Despite his bloodied hands and bruised soul, you welcomed him with open arms and gave him somewhere he could call home. 

And oh how Remmick loved you for that. 

Loved the way you were able to carve a space for yourself in the broken fragments of his heart, making him feel whole for the first time in centuries. He loved you wholly and entirely, using the strength of whatever was left of his damned soul to devote himself to you.

He had spent so many years alone. Though, with the occasional lover or two, he had never truly had a companion. And after being thrust into such a gruesome and eternal existence, he spent so much time in his shame that he never even had a moment to breathe it all in. 

All he could think about was the way the life and beauty around him would eventually wither into dust and ash. But with you, time slowed. 

Life seemed bright once more. Longer, not as fast as his eternal existence made it seem. 

You made him feel alive. Almost human again. 

And with that spark of life, he felt the bit of  humanity left inside of him start to creep back up and out of his bones. Human desires and wants began to fuel his mind. Gone were the dark nights of feasting upon raw flesh and thick blood, now his days were full of sweet kisses that tasted like fresh lemonade. 

With that desire, came need. And oh how he needed you. 

He loved fiercely, passionately, and so desperately. 

It was almost primal, the way his love for you fueled his body. It came from deep within his very bones, crawling out and consuming him whole. 

One could blame it on the fact he was alone for so long. The years of loneliness and deprivation return to his memories when he misses you most. 

This often lead to that desire taking control of him. 

Simply seeing you, feeling and being near your sweet self made all thoughts leave him. 

His brain stopped working, all the fresh blood he had feasted upon now rushing to his cock. He no longer had to be alone, stroke himself to relief— he had you. You to help with the ache that began to build in his pants each time he saw you in those short frilly dresses. When he felt himself twitch with arousal while watching the way you ate ice cream, tongue darting out to lick your fingers and lips. The way you bent yourself over the table to reach something he ‘accidentally’ dropped. Sweat dripping down your chest and between your soft breasts, skin sticky and glowing in the soft summer heat.

He just couldn’t control himself around you. If he had an itch, he would use you to scratch it. 

And (not so) lucky for you, that lack of self control often lead to situations like this.

What started off as a nice, quiet dinner between the two of you, ended up with you getting bent over the table. Hard cock pressed against your ass, cunt dripping and making the thin cotton of your white panties go sheer. 

The food had already gone cold, forks and knives dropped and scattered across the floor. The pretty flowers he had picked for you a few nights ago now spilt over from their vase, water staining the table cloth and wood beneath. 

Your hands clutched the thin fabric, knuckles going white and teeth almost tearing at your lips from holding back whiny little whimpers. 

You will admit, it was partially your fault for getting into this mess. You knew what the short white dress you wore did to him. 

The way it hugged your curves, the ends stopping before your upper thigh, leaving no room for imagination always drove him mad. In the hot summer night the fabric clings to you like a second skin, turning sheer with your sweat and leaving you exposed in more ways than one. It hugs your hips perfectly, cupping your breasts in a way that makes them look softer and plumper.

You just wanted to tease him a little. Work him up enough into the mood during a nice dinner and make sweet love by the fireplace like you had a few nights ago. You should have known better. 

Now here you were, with his large hands caressing and gripping your hips. Squeezing and fondling the soft plush skin of your ass and kissing along your neck. 

His hot breath and tongue lapped at the side, almost slobbering like he was trying to lay his claim on you. His teeth nibbled at your skin, leaving deep love bites in his wake as he made his way to your ear.

His chest was pressed against your back, letting you feel every rumble and groan within his chest. Your arms held you upright, chest heaving and core fluttering and as you felt him hump against your parted thighs. 

His cock was so hard, you could feel it against your pussy through his trousers and your panties. He dragged the clothed length along your lips with long slow thrusts, twitching every time he felt your warmth seep into him.

His hands angle your hips just right, your toes standing at their tips while he feels up all over your cunt. He could feel your wetness drip out of you, smell it staining and soaking him through his pants. 

He nibbles your ear, licking a long stripe against your cheek while grinning and shutting his eyes in pleasure. He moans at your taste, grinding into you deeper. 

“So mean, baby.” He groans out. “Thought you could tease me ‘n that I’d do nothin? That I wouldn’t notice.” 

He grips your hips harder, bending you lower against the table. A small gasp escapes your lips. 

“Didn’t mean to,” You weakly defend yourself, words and tone unconvincing even to yourself. 

He hums, “Yeah, I fuckin’ bet.” He drags his cock back down your cunt, savoring the way your hips try to rock back into his own with desperation.

“Look what you do to me, baby. Got me so damn hard I can’t even think straight- fuck.” He moans, cock growing harder with the languid thrusts of his hips. 

You could feel your desperation clinging onto your skin, spreading and beginning to drip to your thighs. 

Your cheeks felt flushed, going lightheaded at the sweet and faint pleasure his movements brought to you. You could feel yourself clenching around nothing, aching for him to fill you up whole and so deep. 

You didn’t care if it was slow and sweet anymore, you just needed him. 

“Remmick, please.” You softly plead, turning your head back to look at him. Desperate eyed, batting your lashes, and pouty lipped, you grind your hips onto him. 

 He hisses through his teeth, fingers digging deeper into your hips to stop you.

“Fuck, I know baby-I know. Jus’ give me a second.”

His hands making their way up your body, caressing and rubbing desperately along your clothed stomach and up to your chest. 

With a harsh tug, he pulls your dress down from your chest, breast spilling out from the restraint of the fabric. They bounce softly, nipples hardening in the cool air and beneath his large calloused hands. 

He squeezes at them, fondling them together. His thick and skilled fingers softly tug and roll your sensitive buds, pinching and pulling and pawing at you with such fervor. You’re lucky it wasn't his mouth on you, too many times has he left you sore and aching from how hard he sucked and mouthed your breasts. 

Each time he always managed to draw the sweetest noises out of you, the room filling with soft gasps and moans. His own melted with yours like a song. 

Whiny and high pitched, he gasped with every desperate hump of his clothed cock against your pussy. He swore he was going to cum from just touching you. The feeling of your warmth seeping into him from all around drove him mad. 

Your scent filled his nostrils, need and desire spurring him on and filling him the same way fresh blood would. Coursing through his veins, making his dead heart pump and race like he was still human. You really did bring him back to life. He often thought that he didn’t need blood anymore, that he could live solely off of your sweet love and affection. 

His lips kiss your cheeks, breathing in your skin as he gives your tits one last squeeze before his hands move back to your ass. 

He pulls his body back, chest parting from your back and finding a steadier position to stand. You're confused for a moment, until you hear the soft clink of his belt coming undone. The sound of his zipper opening and pants hitting the floor fill your head. 

You feel his hand flip your dress up over your hips, fingers hooking around the band of your panties before shoving them down your thighs. A shiver crawls up your spine at the way the air hits your now exposed cunt. You try to catch your breath, fingers gripping at the table as a way to ground yourself. 

A gasp leaves you as you suddenly feel Remmick grip and pull your hips back. With his strength, he bends you over fully, arms falling from beneath you. Your bare breasts are flush against the table now, ass up and back arched against his crotch. The new position spreads you open, leaving you more vulnerable than before. 

You feel your cunt drip with arousal, pulsing with need as you finally feel his bare cock against you. 

It rests against the base of your ass, heavy with an angry red tip. You can feel the way it throbs and aches for you against your skin. You want to moan at the feeling, but instead suck in a breath of anticipation. 

You mind fills with ways of how he might fuck you. Slow and steady, with deep rough thrusts that have his tip kissing your sweet spot. Or maybe hard and rough, fucking into you by bullying your cervix by letting his head kiss and bruise it. You squeeze your thighs as you let your imagination run wild. 

You’re pulled away when you feel his cockhead part your lips. 

The moan you were holding back before slips, eyes rolling into your sockets as you feel his thick tip split your wet folds open. You're almost embarrassed by how much pleasure such a simple action brings you.

The hand on your hip tightens, holding you still from rutting back into him. 

His other hand grips the base of his cock, moving it slowly through the expanse of your sensitive pussy. He rubs and coats himself with your arousal, precum mixing in and creating an even wetter mess between your thighs.

He nudges himself between your dripping folds, beginning to softly thrust between them until you feel his tip kiss your clit. 

A whimper escapes both of you at the feeling. The mixed desperation in the air has both of you feeling like your skin was on fire. Chills and goosebumps littered your skin, tears almost falling from your eyes at the overwhelming feeling of him.

He wasn’t even inside of you and you were already falling apart. 

Without thinking, you begin to beg. Tiny incoherent cries and pleas start to spill from your lips. Sweet little words and moans that obviously come from thinking with your cunt and not your head. 

“Please, please fuck me Remmick. I’ll be good I swear, please fuck me.” You stutter out between gasps, hips mindlessly trying to move against his cock for stimulation.

“Not yet, sugar.” His hand falls away from his cock, leaving it trapped between warmth to grip your hips. His hands hold into your thighs harshly, nails digging into your skin until tiny crescent moons indent the flesh. 

“Y’know what happens when you tease me.” Pure poison drips from his lips as you feel him pull his hips away from yours. You whine, almost stomping your feet like a child. 

All protests and objections are gone when with a swift motion, he thrusts himself back between your thighs. He slides through easily, the mixture of your wetness allowing his cock to nudge your clit once more. 

Your body is burning, like a fever having come down. Behind you, you can feel Remmick’s own faint heat. His hips are flush against your ass, chest pressed against your back and you can feel the way drool drips from his mouth onto your shoulder. It mingles and melts into your skin with salty sweat. 

He licks you all the way to your throat, making his way to your cheeks and lips. He captures your mouth with his own, practically trying to devour you. 

Under his tongue, you were all the sweetest summer fruits wrapped into one. Sugar and honey dripped off of you like his own personal dessert. He groans at your flavor, kissing you harder and deeper.

You feel the rumble within his chest in your own, body shuttering with pleasure. 

“Gonna fuck you like this.” He breathlessly moans against you, not giving you a second to process the words before beginning to thrust into you. 

He begins fucks your thighs with a quick and steady pace, rutting his hips back and forth while dragging his cock over your cunt. 

With each movement, you can feel the way his tip catches and rubs at your clit. Nudging and kissing the sensitive bud lightly as he continuously rams his cock against where you need him the most. 

He throbs and twitches with each push and pull, your poor pussy clenching around nothing.You feel the way your arousal pools and seeps out of you like water. The thick honey coating his cock and your thighs, making an obscene wet noise fill the air. 

Beneath the sound of your combined moans, a faint plap plap plap can be heard as his heavy and aching balls slap against the back of your thighs.

Remmick grinds into your ass, hips angling himself just right so his cockhead nudges at your hole with each thrust. Teasing and wickedly grinning each time you whine when he pulls away, going back to fucking your clit and lips.

Tears spill from the corners of your eyes. Your body feels like you were lit on fire, flushed all around. Your fingers grip and claw at the table cloth, pulling at it until the dinner plates have fallen onto the ground. 

You feel your legs shake and your body twitch. You try to arch your back, desperately trying to meet his now brutal pace and rhythm but the iron grip he has on your hips has not faltered. 

Too much pleasure, not enough. 

You’re mewling and gasping into the table, feeling your knees slowly give out on you as he keeps bullying your poor cunt. 

Behind you, you would have sworn it was Remmick who was being teased so harshly. 

His loud whimpers fill the room, high pitched and whiny it almost sounds like he's dying. Each moan he breathes is dragged out and loud, like a sweet song made just for you. The sound rattles your bones and sends a lightning bolt right through your body. 

You knew he was sensitive. Knew how easy it was to make his pretty, thick cock cum with your hand and mouth. Even with a kiss, Remmick could become so desperate and needy in a second. 

And he tried to control himself, he really did. But with you in front of him, always ready and willing to give yourself over? How could he deny you or himself? 

Every time he starts to fuck you, the restraint he tried to build comes crumbling down within seconds. 

You were just so wet, so warm, and your walls gripped him so tightly it was like your body was just asking for him to lose control. The moans he held back flowed freely from him like a river, always growing louder than your own. 

Every sound that spilled from his lips dripped with pure sin and need. 

And when he started to talk? That's how you know both of you were done for. 

“You treat me so good, baby.” He begins, “F-fuck I don’t know where I’d be without you.” 

His thrusts get faster, desperately rutting against you. His cock pistoning in and out of your thighs, slipping through your pussy lips with how wet they were. He whines at the feeling of your arousal now dripping down his balls, softly squirting onto his skin with each slap to your cunt. 

His fangs peak through his teeth from the overwhelming hunger he feels for you. The sharp bones graze against the thin and tender skin of your shoulder, almost biting into you. Drool drips from the corner of his mouth and onto you, making your skin crawl.  

 “Ah- Your pussy’s so sweet to me baby. She always take me so good, so fucking tight for me, yeah,” He continues rambling, licking at his lips to stop saliva from flowing. “You ruined me for anyone else, Darlin. All I fuckin think about.” He punctuates every word with a harsh thrust, making your ass and thighs start to feel sore.

 “Did I ruin you? I bet I fuckin did, look at how wet you are for me.” He pulls his cock away, hand coming down to slap your cunt. The feeling has you jolting forward, a loud whine crawling out from your throat. 

He chuckles at the sound and sight. He watches the way your thighs clench together and how your back still arches for his touch. 

He grips his cock again, teasing and rubbing it back along your folds. 

“T’s alright, sugar. Sometimes you make me wanna cum so damn much I wonder if I’ll ever even stop.”

You think you would have cum right then and there if he had let his tip slip into you for just a split second. 

“Remmick, please.” You pathetically beg, rolling your hips back to meet his. Your words are slurred, your cheek having been pressed against the table and the way you were panting left your mouth dry.

You want him inside of you. Fuck no, you needed it. 

Desire starts to crawl through your ribs and fill your chest like if you were drowning in water. It fills your head, reaching your throat and lungs until you are practically suffocating on it. 

He described this feeling before. Said it was how he felt each time you looked at him, each time you left him touch and held you like he was born to do just that.  

You never believed him, thought the feeling to be an exaggeration, but now it seems as though you have some apologizing to do.

“My poor baby wants my cock?” He teases, parting from you once more. 

He grips your hips, pulling you further back off the table. Gently, he spreads your legs wider until you’re spread open for him to see. The position is embarrassing, exposing all of you for him to see better now. 

You feel two of his fingers part your lips, spreading them with a light squelch until your hole is exposed. The gentle night breeze has you shivering as it brushes against your warmth.

His fingers move, teasing your entrance before filling you up to the knuckle. A moan drags out of you, walls fluttering against the two thick digits.

He doesn’t even move. Simply keeps his fingers inside of you like a cork in a wine bottle. Lets you feel the stretch of him inside, spasming around him without even doing anything. 

 You’re sobbing, chest heaving as broken begs spill out of you. You’re not sure of how much more you can take. Lust clouds your brain as you try to claw your way out of the smoke. 

He leans down, nose digging into your hair before drifting down to your back. Tenderly, softer than anything he has done tonight, he kisses the space between your shoulder blades. 

“Oh, how could I resist you? I’d do anything for you, baby.” He whispers softly against your skin. 

He pulls his fingers out of you slowly, bringing them up to your lips to suck the excess of your wetness off. You obey, lapping up the thickness as you feel him massage your ass lightly. 

And without warning, he stuffs his cock inside of you. 

He fills you up to the hilt, cunt gushing around him as he enters and the feeling has all air leaving your lungs. 

Your mouth goes slack, his fingers leaving to wrap around your middle. They wander down until they ghost over your clit, gathering the wetness that was spread between your thighs. 

He gives you a moment to adjust, letting you feel every vein and twitch of his thick cock before pulling out and slamming back into you. His fingers rub at your clit and you can already feel the knot of your lower belly start to tighten. 

He thrusts in and out of you, whimpering like a bitch in heat. Your walls tighten onto him, trying to keep him inside as he pulls in and out. 

You both moan in sync, a loud symphony of whimpers and moans full of need and desperation. His hips slap against your own, his heavy balls rubbing against you as you gush onto him. 

You feel like you’re in heaven. Your tits rub against the table with each movement, nipples hard and receive stimulation from the feeling of the light fabric beneath you. Remmick swirls your clit like his hands were made to, his tip kissing your cervix each time he bottoms out. 

You’re so sensitive, leaning and about to drop right towards the edge. You almost came from him just putting it in, and his endless rambling isn’t helping.

“Best fucking pussy baby, squeezin’ me real tight. You tryna milk my cock, yeah? Want me to fill you up? Fuck you full of cum till it’s dripping?” His voice is getting pitchy, cracking with each word and you can tell he’s also close. 

You nod at each sentence, small ‘uh-huh’s being your quiet response. 

Your walls pulse around him, clenching the thick length as you feel yourself coming apart. 

“That’s right, sugar. Come all over me- fuck.” 

He growls at the feeling, fastening his pace as you cum all around him. It's almost animalistic, his loud groans rumbling into your body as you squirt. You can feel the warmth drip down to your knees, the feeling overwhelming you with embarrassment. 

His moans start to turn high pitched, a sign that he was close too. He breathes heavily above you, chest heaving as he groans and growls through his pleasure.

With a few more heavy thrusts, he stuffs you whole as thick ropes of cum start to fill you up. He whines, trying to rut deeper into you as your cunt milks his cock. The creamy substance leaks out of you, dripping down your pussy and coating his balls. 

Remmick whimpers as he holds your hips flush to him, letting the last of his spend shoot into you. 

You’re both panting heavily, chests heaving and lungs burning. Your bodies are sticky with sweat and other fluids that have you already craving a warm bath. 

You both stand there in silence, busy trying to catch your breaths as your highs start to come down. The tightness of your stomach wanes, warmth fading as the night breeze starts to cool you down. Your head falls onto the table, resting the muscles of your neck as you close your eyes. 

Your heart's pounding slows to a steady pace. Remmick had at some point pressed against you, now hugging you closely and feeling your heartbeat inside your chest. 

You hum at the feeling, the sudden softness and tenderness he displays making the love you feel for him ache inside your chest. 

You go to move, ready to try and shove him off of you but he is already doing so before you can even twist your body. 

You sigh, feeling him pull out slowly and helping you sit up. 

His lips meet yours, pressing a sweet kiss as he helps you up onto the table to rest. You hum against him, arms wrapping around his neck. You may not have gotten the sweet love making by the fire tonight, but he always ended up being just as sweet. 

“Love you, honey. So much.” He whispers against your lips, pulling you closer. His hands rub your tits softly, squeezing at the plump flesh before making his way back between your thighs. 

You hiss, feeling his fingers gathering up the drops of cum that hand escaped when he pulled out. Slowly, he gathers the spend and shoves it right back inside of you. 

You whimper, burying your head in his shoulder as he does. His mouth kissed your forehead, whispering some words you are unable to understand. 

He pulls away, hands resting at your waist before pushing you to lay down. Confusion fills your head, it all happens so fast. 

One second you were sitting up, the next you’re flat on your back with Remmick wrapping your legs around his hips. 

A tiny mewl escapes your lips when you feel his cock, already hard again, beginning to tease your entrance. 

You whimper, looking up at him with pleading eyes and quivering lips. 

He looks down at you with a smirk, biting his lip and tilting his head with a feigned innocence. 

“One more round, Sugar?”

He really just couldn’t control himself around you. 

Thank you for reading </3!! Comments and reblogs are v much appreciated! If you have any insights please leave them kindly!

[sugurusladyknightt]

➺ geto suguru x reader

suguru indulges himself — not nearly as often as he maybe should. far less than he does you, but nonetheless, he does. on occasion.

allowing himself to act on impulse every so often. on whims and buried desires. letting himself be easily swayed by the current of his heart.

i love you.

he tries not to make it too obvious, too imposing. suguru knows better than most that confessions feel that way more often than not.

he tries to be subtle about it. as subtle as he can. i love you but it's hidden in the odd pauses between his words, between fleeting glances and quiet sighs, and jokes that mean too much to him.

he's pressing you to a wall now. effectively shielding you from view and trapping you in against it. your face delicately held in his hands; be subtle suguru. don't impose.

his touch is light, you could push him off if you wanted to. for a moment, he waits for it. watching you watch him.

you could feel your heart beating in your throat, doing your best to swallow it down. be subtle. your eyes flit to his lips and back to his eyes again. it was quick, impulsive. it may have gone unnoticed if not for the proximity.

before you get so much as a single word out — before you get to see the little hearts in the soft gleaming gold of his violet eyes. before you get a good look at him, the soft of his lips press to your own. pillowy and so inviting.

the questions on the edge of your tongue fleeing, each disappearing in a different direction to a far away place you can't find yourself concerned with right now.

birds fleeing at a sudden disturbance, but you cannot. perfectly pleased being in his embrace, against the hard brick and binding of the building behind your back.

his mouth moves languid against yours, slow. almost torturously so.

taking up your space as he tilts your head back a little further in an attempt to reach more of you.

he's all you smell. all you taste, all that you feel. eyes shut tight, grasping at his arms through the sleeves of his shirt.

greedily, he swallows your breath, stealing the air from your lungs and leaving behind the taste of him on your tongue. fresh like citrus and chilled floral tea, fresh like a cool breeze and the rays of sun filtering in on slow quiet summer mornings.

it's dizzying. accredit to the the lack of air, and perhaps to him too. suguru could have that effect.

your knees buckle, body slumping against the cool wall. there's a blissful buzz in your head, your heart tender; melting to dollops of warm soft caramel.

the weight of your body is suddenly too much to carry, your knees feel hallow. finally giving in as your pliant body slides down the wall.

suguru follows, lowering his body with yours, refusing to break the kiss just yet. your butt meets the ground and his knees too. hunched over, leaning into you, with both of his knees on the hard ground; sugurus drinking you in.

desperately, as if stoping would hurt him.

he thinks it really might.

the material of his shirt is held right in you fist in an attempt to ground yourself. it feels as though you're melting right into him.

pulling away, you have to be the one to break the kiss first — although, calling it a 'kiss' doesn't suffice. you gulp down fresh air in big breathes filling your empty lungs and working overtime to quell your hearts erratic beating.

he watches you, with fondness blending into the pretty mauve of his eyes. lips glossed now and parted to do the same. deep breathes.

you look a mess, the most beautiful he's ever seen; lips slightly swollen and a deep glowing rouge painting your nose, the apples of your cheeks, the tips of your ears.

suguru waits only a moment, his own face tinted in the same deep blush, and he leans in again. pressing quick light kisses to your soft reddened lips. one after the other after the other after the other, ambushing you in a sweet, loving assault of too many too quick little pecks.

you're eyes go wide and a glint all to bright shines in his, continuing the attack until a laugh bubbles up your throat at his antics; silly and playful. your laugh saccharine.

tucked away together in a quiet corner, sheltered from the bustling street by the wall.

suguru pulls away slow, reluctant. just enough to see you properly again. he looks so proud of himself.

big, warm hands that cradle your jaw still, thumbs on either side tracing over the delicate skin there in little abstract absentminded shapes.

he's resting his forehead against yours now wondering if you could feel the quickness of his heartbeat. if you could see past the boyish grin and all his subtlety to the part when he bares his whole chest to you.

tender and alive and yours.

[vamp-bites]

My Vashwood trans headcanons in diagram form

Millymeryl version

[lazydayslivin]

recoil (with no context)

[kiss4tell]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐔𝐑𝐄, simon riley.

summary: you, a therapist devoted to mending fractured minds, finds yourself drawn to simon, a man who refuses to be saved. cw: slight psychological themes, inaccurate portrayal of therapy, dom!simon, unprotected and penetrative sex (wrap it before you tap it), porn with slight plot. wc: 1.2k

The first time Simon Riley steps into your office, you know you won’t be able to fix him.

Not because he’s too far gone, though the weight in his shoulders tells you he might be. Not because his trauma is impenetrable, though you suspect he believes that it is. But because he does not want to be saved.

He sits stiff in your chair, his broad frame swallowed by shadow. The balaclava remains on. He watches you in silence, his presence a force rather than a shape. You’ve had difficult patients before, men and women unraveled by things they could never speak aloud. But Simon—he’s different. He doesn’t unravel. He resists.

You take your notes. You ask your questions. He answers in clipped, calculated words, giving you only what he deems necessary. There’s no attempt at healing. No trust extended. His jaw ticks when you probe too deeply, and though his voice is quiet, you can hear the warning in it.

But you’re patient.

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

The days pass in small, careful increments.

At first, Simon barely speaks, his replies brief and methodical, his posture rigid in the leather chair opposite your desk. But then, as the weeks wear on, the silences between his answers grow shorter. He begins to linger after sessions, his eyes sweeping over the bookshelves, the worn rug, the city skyline just beyond your window. He studies you, too, his gaze lingering a little too long, his presence stretching just beyond the professional.

It begins in small moments.

The first time your fingers graze his wrist as you pass him a glass of water, he stills beneath your touch. The first time you say his name without the weight of professionalism, his head tilts ever so slightly. The first time you hold his gaze and refuse to look away, his breath comes just a fraction sharper.

Simon’s not a man who yields. But you see it—the way his hands curl into fists, the way his body tenses when you come too close, as if torn between pulling away and holding you there.

And then, one night, he stays too long.

The office is dim, the lamplight flickering against the mahogany desk. He stands at the threshold, his body a looming silhouette against the doorframe. You don’t ask him why he hasn’t left. Instead, you rise from your chair, your steps slow, deliberate.

“Simon,” you murmur, just his name, letting it settle in the thick silence between you.

He exhales sharply. “I don’t want to be saved.”

You reach him then. Lift your hand, press your palm to his chest, feel the steady thump of his heartbeat beneath your fingertips. His breath catches, his body rigid beneath your touch. But he doesn’t stop you.

“Then let me ruin you instead,” you whisper.

Something in him breaks.

His hand comes up, grips your jaw—not gentle, not hesitant. His fingers press into your skin, tilting your face up as he looms over you. The heat between you is unbearable, thick with something dark, something hungry.

And when he lifts his balaclava over his nose and kisses you, it is not sweet. It is not soft. It is raw, desperate, filled with the ghosts he never speaks of.

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

Simon has you pressed against the edge of your desk, his fingers gripping your waist with a possessive intensity. His body is solid, unwavering, and when he finally pulls back just enough to look at you, there’s something unreadable in his gaze.

“Tell me to stop,” he murmurs, voice low, strained.

You don’t. Instead, your hands find his belt, your fingers unbuckling the leather with measured intent. “I won’t.”

A low sound rumbles from his chest, something between a growl and a sigh. God, the things you do to him without even trying. 

He undresses you with an aching slowness, peeling away each layer as if memorizing the sight of you—every curve, every breath, every shiver beneath his touch. By the time you’re left in nothing but your black lace lingerie, the very set you’d worn with a thought buried too deep to admit, his fingers are already mapping the softness of your skin, rough palms tracing reverent paths along your body.

His mouth follows the path of his hands, teeth grazing your pulse, lips pressing against the sensitive skin of your collarbone. He takes his time, drinking in every sound you make, every shift of your body beneath him.

“Look at you,” he murmurs, voice thick, fingers ghosting over your thighs before he shoves his jeans and boxers just low enough. His cock springs free, heavy and hard, slapping against his stomach. You barely have time to take in the sight of him—thick, flushed, slick with pearlescent pre—before your breath catches, tongue flicking out instinctively as your lips part.

His hands find the backs of your thighs, and in one swift movement, he lifts you onto the edge of your desk like you weigh nothing, the wood groaning under the shift. You gasp, reaching for purchase, but before you can form his name, his palm presses firm over your mouth. The look in his eyes is all the command you need. No words necessary. Your body melts into his, pliant, yielding.

His hand lingers for a moment before sliding down, fingertips teasing the band of your panties before slipping beneath, dragging them down your legs with deliberate patience. When they hit the floor and his hands part your thighs, a quiet sound rumbles from his chest—a dark, hungry thing that settles deep in your core.

“Fuckin’ hell,” he breathes, forehead pressing against yours as he takes himself in hand, guiding his swollen tip through the slick heat of your folds. The drag is slow, torturous, catching at your entrance with every pass. A soft whimper spills from you, need curling tight in your belly. Hardly any foreplay, and you’re already trembling, already half undone.

“Such a pretty little cunt,” he mutters, dragging his lips over your jaw, his grip tightening on your thighs. “Y’gonna take me like a good girl, yeah?”

Your breath hitches, a moan slipping past your lips when he finally sinks into you. He moves slowly at first, savoring the way you arch against him, the way your fingers dig into his back. But when you whisper his name—a plea, a prayer—his restraint unravels.

He fucks you deep, hard, like he needs this more than air. His breath is ragged, his grip bruising, his body pressing you into the desk as if trying to brand himself into you. Every thrust drives you further into bliss, each snap of his hips forcing moans from your lips that he greedily swallows with every stolen kiss.

When you come, it’s with his name spilling from your lips, your body tightening around him, pulling him deeper. And when he follows, it’s with a low, broken groan, his body tensing as he buries himself in you, his weight pressing you against the polished wood.

For a long moment, neither of you move. His breath is hot against your skin, his chest rising and falling heavily.

And when he finally speaks, it is not a confession. Not an apology. Just a quiet, desperate truth.

“Don’t fix me.”

[i-dont-talk-for-days-on-end]

It is tempting to think that Sherlock Holmes was so emotionally repressed and secretive and obviously not great at handling the feelings of others (making Watson believe him dead or dying several times) because his own author did not love him enough. Childhood trauma. Deep in his heart he knew that all the time ACD spent with him he'd rather write about dinosaurs, and that turns a man bitter. And looking at some adaptions I think this is still ongoing - some creators still do not love Sherlock Holmes. They want his name, but they don't want him. Pleeeaaase let Sherlock Holmes be with creators who love himmmmm pleeeeaaaaaase my poor silly little guyyyyyyy

[meow-writer-cat]

I have idea on book, not from My AU.

If I write it on Wattpad, would you read?

Something in it: War between humans and monsters, in 2252 year (my mom choose that) and... well, idk what to say more to not spoiler more and don't have anyone copy my idea... before I write the book...

[shyjusticewarrior]

Jason: I'm gonna go hit Dick.

Barbara: Why?

Jason: For his attention.

Barbara: Literally just ask your brother to hang out with you. Why are you like this?

[mischievous-thunder]

Oh, Wade! You shouldn't antagonise an already feral kitty!

[antlered-vixen]

Nelyafinwë Maitimo Russandol, Maedhros. Confronting Maglor with the sunset behind him; Chapter 20 of Light. Why loosely Byzantine? Because a friend said so and also it appeals.