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The adorable couple 🤭

Art by cinnamo_on0 (instagram & twitter)

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I’ve edit the event card. I literally edit rose on top of the original avatar 😂

Art by cinnamo_on0 (instagram & twitter)

Edit by me

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Rose: “ Arthur, I love you ❤️”

Art by cinnamo_on0 (instagram & twitter)

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Marilyn x jealous jamil 🤭

Art by Kamo_Te00 (twitter)

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Another cute commission of Arthur x rose 💕

Art by Kamo_Te00 (twitter)

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Turned a commission into my personal merch 🤭

The strap is perfect but i think the standee needs to be a little bigger next time.

Art by cinnamo_on0 (instagram and twitter)

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ଘ      、   CÉLINE      :      あなたは私にとって特別です。

all credit goes to rhltnrmfla

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Happy 6th Anniversary of Ikemen Vampire

Theme song: Rose 🌹 by FlowBack

Anniversary Artwork by mama Shiro

Cybird x Scently Collaboration

The mansion's scent

The castle's scent

Galileo and Drake's hideaway scent (?)

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snake fashion

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How about a morning sex drabble with Jamil and number 74?

This is the second Jamil ask I've gotten so might as well kill two birds with one stone.

Pairing: Jamil Viper x Fem!Reader

Tags: nsfw, smut, morning sex, pussyjob, edging, dick riding, creampie, praise

A/N: The first Jamil ask I got wasn't specific at all so why not do them both in one?

74. “That’s a nice way to start a day.”

"Quite the sight to wake up to." You heard Jamil chuckle behind you, practically hearing the smirk in his voice. It didn't deter you from your mission, reliving him of his morning wood the best way you knew how. You didn't always use your pussy for this, only when he'd been really nice to you the day before.

The day before he had helped you study for an exam you feel back on, ironically because Jamil insisted on the two of you spending more time together, which cut into both of yours study time. Somehow you suspected that he planned it out. All the dates, the smiles, the kissing, the fucking, the soft bed of pillows he dragged you to every night, it seemed too perfect.

But if he did plan something he sure had a way to make up for it, and so did you. "Stop messing with my studies and you could have this every morning." You threw him a glance over your shoulder, meeting his grey eyes. Jamil smacked your ass with both hands, kneading the soft, bouncy flesh under his palms, causing you to cry out.

"That's a nice way to start a day. I might need to think about your offer. Let's see, keep teasing you..." His hand moved to your hips instead, guiding them to a slow roll. You arched your back at the sudden change in rhythm, feeling your orgasm taken away from you so easily. So was his, he was hard before you even hopped on his cock, he wanted to come just as much of not more then you did, "...or get this sweet cunt milking my cock every morning?"

"Jamil, I'll make the choice for you is you don't let me move!" No way were you letting his teasing get in the way of your orgasm.

"No need for that. I already have my answer." Being as smug as he was he put his hands behind his head and raised your chin at you, "Care to guess what it is?" You were not going to dignify that with a reply. All you needed to do was to start moving again, letting your hips and legs do the work, your ass smacking against his abs until you felt his balls empty themselves inside of your spasming walls.

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Jealous yandere Jamil that kidnaps the reader and they develop stockholm syndrome if this is okay to request

✧ ft. jamil viper x reader

✧ fandom: twisted wonderland┊genre: dark┊w/c: 1k

✧ content: afab!reader, yandere!jamil, shameless smut, established relationship, porn with no plot, stockholm syndrome, cunnilingus, finger fucking, mentions of suicide and blood, kidnapping, you guys know the drill with how this goes

The door decorated with gold locks from the outside never grace your eyes as it keeps you hidden from the outside world. You don’t know how long it’s been, it could be weeks, months, hell— it could even be a year since you’ve felt the sun on your skin. Home is a word that’s been ruined. The concept of belonging and feeling safe no longer resonates the same way it once did. Perhaps that’s for the better for your own mind. Missing the outside world slowly spun into a web of lies which made you fear it.  

Jamil tends to your needs; food, water, house, and even your clothes. Everything is so specific that it reminds you how much of a control freak he really is, one step and everything would fall apart. It took you a while to realize how important it is for him, how he needs to manage every miniscule detail.

A sigh escapes your lips as you wander within the four corners of your room, a place you’ve been trained to be accustomed to apart from the connected bathroom. Your eyes land on your own reflection and you can’t help but study yourself. Your nightgown is so thin you can see every detail of your body in the mirror, neck covered in bites—some are fresh ones that were given to you the day prior. You didn’t wear underwear, at least not after the start of your confinement. He says it makes it easier to have access to your body. 

Your eyes have more bags from all the sleepless nights and the sleep deprivation shows from how stressed you look. You’re a mess, and that much is obvious. What you can’t comprehend is Jamil’s incessant attraction to your chaotic image. You look like you’re a day away from your grave, a hopeless case without any worth or value to society. If you died, no one would bat an eye . . .  No one except Jamil. 

You remember how your suicidal tendencies grew in terms of escaping your fate. But you also remember the distraught and damage you gave him in those moments. His smug eyes were uncharacteristically filled with tears as his sly grin was replaced with a frown. That annoying and condescending laugh didn’t echo in your head when his pained cries bounced in your skull. It didn’t help when he was the one tending to all the cuts on your wrists. It didn’t help when he was cleaning your tub with bleach to get rid of all the blood that could stain. 

Marks—that he could never glaze on your body—were the ones that you scarred on yourself. It’s messed up, both the situation and relationship. Fathoming the consequences and the lines of dominos that had tumbled to have you in such a situation  is nearly impossible. Obsession is more toxic, unhealthy. But it doesn’t seem that way. Is this what obsession seems like? Why does it feel different? It seems more . . . pitiful as if that helplessness is a burden that you share with him. 

You hear the locks crack and clank before the door creaks eerily. In the mirror, your eyes meet Jamil’s before he smiles at you. It’s a genuine smile, a happy one to see that you’re still here imprisoned indefinitely. Jamil closes the proximity before his hands snake around your waist, his chin resting on your shoulders. His lips ghost faint across your neck and shoulders as he hums in satisfaction.

“Did you miss me?” It’s an odd question, one that you’ve refused to answer again and again. Because despite your nonchalantly behavior, you’re unsettled with your own compliance. It illustrates how successful he is at molding you to his liking, a personal pet that he could keep at all times. Your calmness is what terrifies you the most. 

“Sit on the bed for me, love.” You heed his request, forgoing another argument for your disobedience. Your weight sinks into the duvet as his rough hands spread your legs open. It no longer bothers you how he treats you like a housewife to go home to after a long day at work. ‘Shit,’ you think to yourself when you feel your cunt pulse at the idea. Is that what you are? A hole to put his seed in when he feels like it? 

His tongue lays flat against your clit and you don’t suppress your whine, letting your voice come out to play as Jamil starts to prep you with his tongue. Your hand sits on top of his head, encouraging him to go further as your legs rests on his shoulders. 

You feel like a common whore, panting and blushing profusely because you’re being tongue-fucked by the same man who would chain you up and keeping you as a breeding doll. Your juices slide down on the mattress staining the sheets as your hips begin to grind against his tongue while your hand is practically pushing down on his head to keep going. 

Jamil smiles in amusement when he sees the lustful gaze in your eyes, the slut he trained your body into to accommodate his perverted fantasies. His cock is straining his pants; he’s so turned on that it borders on painful as he listens to your moans, tasting your slick and slurping the damned sinfulness of your cunt. 

“I missed you,” You whimper softly, a voice so meek that it makes him groan as he sucks on your poor sensitive clit. Jamil withdraws between your legs as he smirks. “You did?” Two fingers dive into your wet folds, curling at the right spot to abuse your g-spot and make your eyesight go white. “Did you miss this?” The question receives a nod and an increased pace of his fingers, scissoring you to see how your pink walls stretch inside. From a virgin pussy to cunt molded to his shape—how cute. You’re so fucking wet and to think this is the same woman who bled on his cock, struggling to take the girth of his length. 

“Tell me how much you miss me and I might let you cum.”

[lady-doyle]

ଘ      、   CÉLINE      :      あなたは私にとって特別です。

all credit goes to rhltnrmfla

[lady-doyle]

Jealous yandere Jamil that kidnaps the reader and they develop stockholm syndrome if this is okay to request

✧ ft. jamil viper x reader

✧ fandom: twisted wonderland┊genre: dark┊w/c: 1k

✧ content: afab!reader, yandere!jamil, shameless smut, established relationship, porn with no plot, stockholm syndrome, cunnilingus, finger fucking, mentions of suicide and blood, kidnapping, you guys know the drill with how this goes

The door decorated with gold locks from the outside never grace your eyes as it keeps you hidden from the outside world. You don’t know how long it’s been, it could be weeks, months, hell— it could even be a year since you’ve felt the sun on your skin. Home is a word that’s been ruined. The concept of belonging and feeling safe no longer resonates the same way it once did. Perhaps that’s for the better for your own mind. Missing the outside world slowly spun into a web of lies which made you fear it.  

Jamil tends to your needs; food, water, house, and even your clothes. Everything is so specific that it reminds you how much of a control freak he really is, one step and everything would fall apart. It took you a while to realize how important it is for him, how he needs to manage every miniscule detail.

A sigh escapes your lips as you wander within the four corners of your room, a place you’ve been trained to be accustomed to apart from the connected bathroom. Your eyes land on your own reflection and you can’t help but study yourself. Your nightgown is so thin you can see every detail of your body in the mirror, neck covered in bites—some are fresh ones that were given to you the day prior. You didn’t wear underwear, at least not after the start of your confinement. He says it makes it easier to have access to your body. 

Your eyes have more bags from all the sleepless nights and the sleep deprivation shows from how stressed you look. You’re a mess, and that much is obvious. What you can’t comprehend is Jamil’s incessant attraction to your chaotic image. You look like you’re a day away from your grave, a hopeless case without any worth or value to society. If you died, no one would bat an eye . . .  No one except Jamil. 

You remember how your suicidal tendencies grew in terms of escaping your fate. But you also remember the distraught and damage you gave him in those moments. His smug eyes were uncharacteristically filled with tears as his sly grin was replaced with a frown. That annoying and condescending laugh didn’t echo in your head when his pained cries bounced in your skull. It didn’t help when he was the one tending to all the cuts on your wrists. It didn’t help when he was cleaning your tub with bleach to get rid of all the blood that could stain. 

Marks—that he could never glaze on your body—were the ones that you scarred on yourself. It’s messed up, both the situation and relationship. Fathoming the consequences and the lines of dominos that had tumbled to have you in such a situation  is nearly impossible. Obsession is more toxic, unhealthy. But it doesn’t seem that way. Is this what obsession seems like? Why does it feel different? It seems more . . . pitiful as if that helplessness is a burden that you share with him. 

You hear the locks crack and clank before the door creaks eerily. In the mirror, your eyes meet Jamil’s before he smiles at you. It’s a genuine smile, a happy one to see that you’re still here imprisoned indefinitely. Jamil closes the proximity before his hands snake around your waist, his chin resting on your shoulders. His lips ghost faint across your neck and shoulders as he hums in satisfaction.

“Did you miss me?” It’s an odd question, one that you’ve refused to answer again and again. Because despite your nonchalantly behavior, you’re unsettled with your own compliance. It illustrates how successful he is at molding you to his liking, a personal pet that he could keep at all times. Your calmness is what terrifies you the most. 

“Sit on the bed for me, love.” You heed his request, forgoing another argument for your disobedience. Your weight sinks into the duvet as his rough hands spread your legs open. It no longer bothers you how he treats you like a housewife to go home to after a long day at work. ‘Shit,’ you think to yourself when you feel your cunt pulse at the idea. Is that what you are? A hole to put his seed in when he feels like it? 

His tongue lays flat against your clit and you don’t suppress your whine, letting your voice come out to play as Jamil starts to prep you with his tongue. Your hand sits on top of his head, encouraging him to go further as your legs rests on his shoulders. 

You feel like a common whore, panting and blushing profusely because you’re being tongue-fucked by the same man who would chain you up and keeping you as a breeding doll. Your juices slide down on the mattress staining the sheets as your hips begin to grind against his tongue while your hand is practically pushing down on his head to keep going. 

Jamil smiles in amusement when he sees the lustful gaze in your eyes, the slut he trained your body into to accommodate his perverted fantasies. His cock is straining his pants; he’s so turned on that it borders on painful as he listens to your moans, tasting your slick and slurping the damned sinfulness of your cunt. 

“I missed you,” You whimper softly, a voice so meek that it makes him groan as he sucks on your poor sensitive clit. Jamil withdraws between your legs as he smirks. “You did?” Two fingers dive into your wet folds, curling at the right spot to abuse your g-spot and make your eyesight go white. “Did you miss this?” The question receives a nod and an increased pace of his fingers, scissoring you to see how your pink walls stretch inside. From a virgin pussy to cunt molded to his shape—how cute. You’re so fucking wet and to think this is the same woman who bled on his cock, struggling to take the girth of his length. 

“Tell me how much you miss me and I might let you cum.”

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✧

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RAPID FIRE LETS GO LETS GO 🗣🗣

unbelievable, now i have to conquer the sonic artists natural enemy…the crocodile

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ツイステ☕ラテアート