#so so sweet of you muah kisses

[saekkas]

i just saw mimis rep to your anon ask. dont believe her it was angsty ☠

@ode2rin i knew you were lying to me :<

[luffysprincess]

hi amira!!! 🥺 i love you amira!!!!! 🥺💝

COCO!!! MY SWEET COCO!! HI COCO!! I LOVE YOU COCO 💕💕💕💕💕💕

[mellowwillowy]

Oh what? You dont get enough appreciation if my ask got you like that! Your stories are awesome!! While i will shamelessly admit its the oc x reader thing that lure me in, the way you love your characters sm that you keep developing them is exciting for me too! Before sending my previous ask i read all the webtoon, while im really lost (i understood it after few reread) uphill daisies, the lovecraft one is very fun and so cute! Lovecraft is my fav webtoon of yours. While I, once again shamelessly, feel sad if there's no reader content (im needy of their attention and need to be included LOL) i understand how hard it is to include a reader into your projects and i also understand if you want to grow your characters as their own series rather than fanservice characters and to be honest! Im excited with lovecraft series (im taking my time absorbing uphill daisies T—T) take your time writing though! Drawing multiple webtoon with such complicated world building and lots of character must be difficult and time consuming, cheering for ya!

tbh i miss yulian.. I'm tempted to pick up writing again to make a fanfic of him myself but mischaracterization my WORST enemy! Sorry i got too excited that you feel appreciated of my ask that i rambled more T—T

- love letter anon.

Bawling crying curling vomiting (but actually the curling is kinda real because my stomach hurts) reading this love letter!

What better way to market a series if not to make readers fall in love with them? Shameless (x GN Reader) fanservice! And as for the lack of reader content, it kinda is true in UD because it's meant to be a mystery/crime series buuuuuuuttttt for the CatboX series, there'd be 'readers' appearing in the series.

LCH will have approximately 6-7 readers (although they are more of a character, I still consider them to be a romanced readers), with almost all the main characters paired with at least one reader! The one with the most spotlight is expected to be Scribe (Caelus) because he's my favorite.

As for another unpublished CatboX series would be 'The System Forbids' for the 2025 contest (if I have enough time to spare after finishing at least 3-5 episodes of UD). The OG novel protagonist (aka FMC) is pretty much the reader with the amount of romcom going on although it's not the best x reader.

Identity Crisis is pretty much Blue with reader except it's girlfriend now. His character is still problematic (yandere?) in the series [IC has no chance of being republished for now]. Yulian is Yulian. He's also problematic and I can kinda see the slander he'll receive if UD is published until the ending.

Why am I yapping (slaps slaps slaps), anywayyyyyyy words can't express how much I love your support. Thanks for sparing your time to read my current works (and years years ago work…). It really motivates me to keep going and makes me know there's still someone waiting and reading my work.

For you getting confused over UD, lemme tell you something, it’s because the second episode is a bad pacing decision, and makes no sense to be slapped out of nowhere without a proper continuation. The only good thing from that webtoon right now is the opening so I am amazed if you can even understand a bit of it (because I won't as a reader)

I've always had the dilemma of making my webtoon. Most times I wish I could just tailor myself according to what's trending (like Yulian or Blue) but I ended up working on other characters and feel bad for providing 'who the fuck' stories. Another concern is that the 'reader' is now an established character with personal lore to the point it no longer feels inclusive… not to mention I mostly make GN content, it kind of concerns me how every GN reader here would feel (Since it's all just female and I have no plan to add new readers).

Regarding mischaracterization, I understand you sm anon TwT. Even I as their mama sometimes OOC them! And if I'm not OOC-ing them, I'd cringe reading the answers to asks despite being in character (pls why are you so wattpad-y). It's a struggle but I don't mind reading it, I've read countless mischaracterized Yulian in my asks haha. (So sorry, he's not an exemplary father, the last in the ranking board if he even made it to the leaderboard…)

My plan currently is to write more content according to what webtoons I'm going to publish.

[yuriyuruandyuraart]

hihi

munching on yer art style :3c

this is how it feels like to have a blog sometimes<333

[zestys-stuff]

Warning: I’m sorry but this is going to be a really long ramble ❤️❤️❤️!!!

Okay I have to say this one first because I think it needs to be said *Holds a microphone 🎤* YOU ARE SO DAMN PRECIOUS!!! SERIOUSLY!! YOU ARE TOO PRECIOUS!! THANK YOU FOR EXISTING!! YOU’RE A REAL GIFT FROM EYWA HERSELF!! AND MY GOSH HAVE YOU FED US WELL WITH YOUR AMAZING ART!! RALAK WILL FOREVER BE TREASURED HERE!!! ໒( ” •̀ ᗜ •́ ” )७

As an artist myself, you really are a great inspiration to me to keep on improving. Art block has gotten to me recently but I see the art that you post and it makes me want to draw again. The colors, the proportions, the line art, the tattoos omg, and all the amazing detail you put into it don’t go unnoticed!! So thank you for sharing your work! Chefs kiss 100/10ヽ(”`▽´)ﾉ

But while I’m going to ramble, can I ask for permission to write about Ralak? I’ve seen so many amazing fics about him and I hope to add to that. It’s just that I want your permission first. 〜(^∇^〜）

On the topic about Ralak (sorry for jumping topic to topic ಥ‿ಥ)… HOW?! I HAVE SO MANY QUESTIONS!! (Puts on reporter glasses) How are you able to create such a fine looking man? JUST HOW! HE’S TOO PERFECT!! CREATING SUCH A MAN SHOULD BE ILLEGAL!! ʕ̡̢̡̡̢̡̡̢♡ᵒ̴̷͈艸ᵒ̴̷͈॰ʔ̢̡̢̢̡̢̢̡̢✧

SO RALAK IF YOU ARE ALSO READING THIS, KNOW THIS— YOUR CREATOR IS THE MOST PRECIOUS PERSON ON EARTH AND IF ANYTHING HAPPENS BRING HER BACK TO PANDORA!! Pack her bags, steal a ship, and do whatever it takes. Just make sure it happens and that she is taken care of!! She needs to be protected at all costs!!( *//｀ω´//)

Take care, love! Hope you stay happy and healthy ♪(๑ᴖ◡ᴖ๑)♪

I can’t even begin to say how overwhelmed and happy i am rn🥹❤️❤️❤️ I’m gonna cry🥲 I’m absolutely devastated by the amount of love and i was smiling like an idiot while reading this🙈💕💕💕 Thank you so, so much! I’m super glad to hear you’ve managed to overcome art block, that is the worst👁️👁️ and incredibly pleased that you notice the details 🌚❤️ Yes ofc you can write about him! I’d be honored 💖 AHH much love to you as well pookie!💖 You made my day!!

Ps: He’s not my only oc :3

[leosgreyfringe]

I'm not reblogging the positivity post again bc I'm lazy but I am never too lazy to tell you that your very existence makes this world better, you and ben white are inextricably linked in my mind and HE is the lucky one in that combo. you are everything!! cannot fully explain how much I adore you actually please accept this inadequate message of my devotion 💖

I just saw this SARAH I LOVE YOUUUU 🥰🥰

[esote-rika]

to talk is to bare | Spencer Reid

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader Category: hurt/comfort, fluff Summary: three times you've never felt enough for Spencer Reid—and the three times he rectified it immediately Content: insecure reader, written with early s2 Spencer in mind (glasses!Spencer rawr), reader wears makeup, implied bad relationships in the past, Spencer is just a sweetheart Word count: 2.4k A/N: entry for #lovers1kevent (congrats @mggslover muah) - the lyric prompt for this is “And I knew how you took your coffee and your favorite songs by heart, I read all of your (self help) books so you'd think that I was smart” from enough for you by Olivia Rodrigo. This was supposed to just be pure angst but apparently, I can't write this man as anything other than the perfect boyfriend.

“Well, actually, Dostoevsky intended the book to be a critique on certain schools of thoughts and ideologies, namely...”

You stare at your boyfriend, nodding along as he explains the intricacies and historical context of Notes from the Underground to you. His smile is kind and excited when he stops, looking at you expectantly.

“Right.” the smile on your face isn't forced, per se, but neither does it reach your eyes. How many times has it happened this month? It isn’t that you’re keeping count of all the times he’s corrected you—truthfully, you can’t, because you’ve lost count. And that’s the crux of the issue, isn’t it? The fact that you can’t even keep track of his corrections anymore, because he does it all the time. 

You remind yourself he's not doing this to deliberately make you feel stupid, your memory immediately calling forth all the times you've seen him correct other people — his teammates, the cashier at your favorite bookstore, a random person in the park. It's never pointed, nor is the act laced with anything but genuine, loving desire to share his knowledge. He's not like the men you've had to deal with in the past, the ones who jump at every opportunity to show off that they know more than you, that they're correct and you're wrong.

But this is Spencer. Sweet, wholly inexperienced, awkward. Half the time, he doesn't know how he comes across, and you've been dating him long enough to understand that. 

No, his corrections aren’t the crux of the issue. In fact, it isn’t even him. It’s you, and all the treacherous thoughts running through your mind. This damn book you’d read because you saw a dog eared copy in his satchel one day, pushing through pages upon pages of dense material just to catch up and relate with him, only to still come up short and have yourself be corrected.

The sting is still there, lingering and acrid in the back of your tongue. You cannot pinpoint it yet, this But it's Spencer Reid, so you grit your teeth and remind yourself not to take it personally. The words slip out easily. You could almost believe they aren’t lies. “Thank you for letting me know.”

The beam on his face is a reminder that not everyone is as patient, that he's come to expect looks that range from baffled to downright annoyed. Nobody else allows him free reign to talk like this, long winded rambles that get nipped at the bud with a sharp Reid. He smiles, beams at you, and this time the smile on your lips finally reaches your eyes.

“So what did I get wrong?”

“You weren’t wrong,” he’s pulling you in as he answers, lips finding the underside of your jaw and the bitterness dissipates, sweetens into something that makes your toes curl, “Just a little inaccurate.”

Your body melts into him easily. “You don't have to sugarcoat with me.”

“I'm not, it's literature. You can interpret it however you want, I just thought knowing the rest of the context would help you with your opinion.” he's kissing down your neck, breaths ghosting over your skin as he continues to talk, and you sink into his arms, forgetting why you were even feeling annoyed in the first place.

You’re not sure if you like the color you’ve put to make your cheeks flush. It's always been a point of contention in the past, your exes saying you don't put enough effort in, so this time with Spencer, you try. Even though you're not the best at it, even though you feel a little foolish because it seems a little too bright despite all of your hurried attempts to blend it a little more. But it’s too late to change now. You don’t want to go through the whole deal of reapplying your makeup because that would mean running late, so you ignore it and head to the cafe quickly. 

Spencer isn't there yet. You order your drinks, his black and into which you dump an exorbitant amount of sugar. Memorization is his thing, but you've come to learn a thing or two about him in the time you two are dating.

He's a few minutes late, and when he arrives, Spencer’s eyes lock on you. Or, more specifically, your cheeks.

“That bad?” you tease, standing from your seat and leaning over for a kiss. 

“You don’t have the coloring for that shade of red.”

Your brow knits as you pull away. Attempting to hide the flood of insecurity that swept through your chest, you let out a chuckle. Soft, shaky, and accompanied with a confused, “What?”

“It makes your cheeks look a little inflamed.”

“Oh.” 

Regret fills your chest, settling in your lungs until it’s difficult to breathe. You should have trusted your instincts and scrubbed the makeup off. Shouldn’t have tried something new on the one day the two of you can go out. He’s probably embarrassed by you. How silly, being a full grown woman wearing makeup bordering on clownish. 

He must have caught the hurt in your voice, the way your body deflates because he’s quick to remedy. “Hey, what’s that look for?”

It should embarrass you, the speed at which he picks up on your emotions. But he’s a profiler after all, he’s specifically trained for this, but sometimes you wish he doesn’t use it against you. Gentle hands cup your face. Cold hands, perpetually so until you’ve started keeping them between yours. They tilt your head up. 

“Talk to me.” 

“It’s stupid.”

“Nothing you say is ever stupid.”

You smile, “No, I think we both know that’s a lie.”

He relents. He knows you’re right; there are moments where you don’t make sense. “Not stupid, just…” his eyes roam your face while he searches for the word to use as compromise, as though he’ll find it tucked somewhere in your pretty features, “Lapses in discernment.”

You roll your eyes at his fancy vernacular, the attempt to soothe his mistake. “I think I prefer the layman’s term.” 

Spencer laughs sheepishly, then presses his lips to your forehead, “I’m never using that to describe you.” he murmurs against your skin, and then, “I'm sorry.”

Antarctica could melt from the warmth in your chest.  “You don't even know what you're apologizing for.”

“I upset you. That's reason enough.”

You sigh, pulling him to join you on the plush booth seat you'd managed to secure for your date. “Well, there's nothing to forgive.”

He accepts the coffee you hand him, corners of his mouth curved in a gentle smile. He sips, and you stew in silence, knowing that you shouldn't be leaving him guessing like this. He'd want to know, you can tell by the way he's studying you, the way he wants to examine and turn over your thoughts and reactions like he does with everything else in his life. But he waits, lets you open up if you so wish.

God, he's perfect.

“I was just having second thoughts about my makeup,” you murmur finally, “And you kind of confirmed it. I told you it's stupid.”

“Not stupid at all. I'm sorry,” you wonder if he takes his coffee sweet to match his personality, this asshole, “It was an insensitive comment. And for what it's worth, you look beautiful regardless.”

“Inflamed cheeks and all?” 

He laughs, pulling you to his side, lips firmly planted on your cheek “Inflamed cheeks and all.”

Maybe you shouldn’t have worn the blush after all; you're sure he's making you flush scarlet just by being such a sweetheart.

“Oh Spencer knows her.” the teasing tone in Derek Morgan’s voice normally makes you smile, but something about his tone makes you pause. You stare at the TV, where a new show is running, eyes zeroed in on the blonde actress.

“Spencer knows her?”

“Knew,” your boyfriend supplies, “Very briefly.”

Derek Morgan gives him a knowing smirk that has your stomach churning all the way to the end of the night, when you’re getting ready for bed.

You're in his apartment, in an old pair of his plaid pajamas and a t-shirt that fits you surprisingly well. It always makes you smile, his slight frame, the way you could easily steal his clothes and they wouldn't dwarf you too much. But tonight, Derek's words ring over and over again, bringing forth the image of her—Lila Archer, dazzling, perfectly curvy, an actress on a popular TV series… and apparently, a friend of his. You aren't really sure where this jealousy is coming from. He’s a trustworthy man, and you know he loves you. Still, the image of the beautiful actress persists, even as you climb into bed with him.

He's reading as he usually is, the low lamplight casting shadows over the sharp planes of his face. Without even looking, he shifts the book to his other hand, freeing up an arm to draw you to his body. It's easy, quiet, his heartbeat fluttering beneath your ear as you rest your head on his chest. The exact opposite of your own heartbeat right now.

“What's on your mind?” 

“Nothing.” It should be a sin, the way you keep denying your feelings. But it's just so silly, and you're a grown woman. Jealousy and insecurity shouldn't be consuming you like this, and yet…

“Please don't lie to me,” his fingers are in your hair, tangling deep into the strands and seeking for your scalp. They’re soothing and rhythmic upon contact, lulling your body into a sense of relaxation even though your heart still hammers at your chest.

“Why do you say that?”

“You usually remind me to use the overhead lights when I read.” fingers putting pressure on your scalp, traveling to your temple. He has you in the palm of his hands, “You didn't do that tonight. And your heartbeat's going at an abnormally high rate, even though I'm quite certain you didn't do anything strenuous before coming to bed. What's going on?” 

Damn him and his attention to detail, and the way he’'s learned your little quirks and oddities. He puts down his book and you turn your face to hide into his chest.

You chew on your bottom lip, reminding youself that this is Spencer, he wouldn't judge. “How’d you know her?” your voice is muffled against his shirt, “Lila.”

“We had a case in Los Angeles.” he pauses, as if considering if he should say more. Right. Confidentiality. You nod, accepting his answer.

“Must have been a high profile one then,” you muse, “Or were you just hanging around Hollywood studios with Derek?” It’s an unfair statement, but you can’t help it.

“No, no, it wasn’t like that.” You look back up at him and oh there’s guilt swimming in pools of honey eyes. “I mean, we kissed once, but I swear, nothing beyond that.”

You exhale. A kiss. He's kissed a TV starlet. 

This shouldn’t even be an issue. This is before you were even in the picture after all. It’s not fair to uphold him to some weird standard. You certainly had relationships before him. But none of them had been as stunning as Lila Archer. And if he could have Lila Archer, then what is he doing with you? 

“Hey,” his other hand comes to stroke your cheek, the soft pad of his thumb rubbing small, soothing circles, “Talk to me.”

It's a difficult thing, being mature and communicating when you just want to stew, but god he's so good, you can't punish him for this, for anything. “I thought you said I was your first girlfriend?” you say instead, teasing him.

“You are, but you know, I’ve kissed before, and been on dates—”

“With Lila?”

“No, with JJ.”

Oh.

“JJ?”

JJ? His lovely, warm spring day beauty coworker JJ? He went on a date with her? And kissed Lila Archer. It’s almost ridiculous, thinking about the type of women he's had dalliances with—lithe, blonde, perfect, before he settled with you. 

“Yeah, I took her to a Redskins game,” he says, his hold on your face still light. There's room to move if you want to, space to pull away should you need it and god he's just so perfect.

“You have a type, huh?” it comes out unbidden, sharp but dulled by a bitter laugh.

“What do you mean?”

“With women,” you reply, trying to temper the snappy tone of your voice. It's not fair to lash out at him like this, you know that, yet you can't help it. It's habit at this point, a form of defense that your exes have all been too happy to participate, “I'm the outlier.”

And apparently, he's an outlier too because his voice grows even softer, eyes searching your face with an anxiety that fills you with guilt. “Is that a problem?”

“No,” you sigh, arm draping over his waist and hugging him tight. 

He returns the favor, tangling your legs together until you're a mess of limbs under his sheets. “Then what's wrong?”

“Sometimes I just feel like—like I'm not good enough to be dating you.” there it is, whispered into his chest, striking straight to his heart. “And now, knowing that you could have had all of these — these women who could pass for models—”

“Angel,” the way he says the nickname makes you hide even further into his chest. He closes his arms around you, holding you so tightly it's difficult to breathe, but that's okay. Let him fuse your bodies together, let his breaths be yours too, “That's not true, you know that's not true.”

“Isn't it? You're so — you. Intelligent, well decorated in academia, an an elite FBI unit…”

He laughs, “I’m also an endlessly annoying know it all, I failed my gun license exam more than once, I don't have abs—”

“You don't need abs,” you counter, fingers clutching on his shirt.

“Wouldn't you rather be with a guy with a six pack?”

“I'd rather be with you.”

He gently moves away from you, hands finding your face to make you look at him. “And I'd rather be with you.”

You pout, “You can't use my words against me, ‘s not fair.” 

He laughs again, leaning to capture your lips in the gentlest of kisses, “I want you, I chose you, and I adore you,” he's murmuring between each kiss, hands cradling your face, “And if you have these thoughts again, tell me, so I can keep reminding you just how much I love you.” 

➺ My masterlist | Event masterlist

➺ thank you so much for reading <3

[nimuraz]

WORD COUNT — 1.8k

WARNINGS — don’t have to tell your hot ass a thing, oh yea you just get it! soft dom!jake, raw sex (don’t be silly! wrap your willy), fingering, sex toys, pet names (baby, angel, baby doll etc.), squirting, cunnilingus, munch!jake, overstimulation, let me know if i missed anything.

NOTES — here’s part 2 of juno thank you guys so much for liking part 1 please feel free to leave comments under this of what you’d like from me next! this isn’t proof read so im sorry if it sucks a bit… I TRIED I TRIED >< okay bai enjoy muah xx

about an hour and a half has passed since you started with jake and it’s safe to say you’ve milked him for all he’s worth.

“your… your turn princess… can’t anymore…” he whispers against your lips while you linger above him. you nod softly before releasing his now soft dick. you lean in slightly, bringing yourself to his eye level before pressing a series of soft kisses across his face. a hazy smile greets you in return.

you gently unlock the cuffs around his delicate wrists before kissing the bright red rims that formed around them. he takes them from your hands and smiles at you.

“hands behind your back.” he breathes out. you follow his orders and place your hands next to each other right above your pretty lower back.

“good girl, never doubted it for a second.” he murmurs against the shell of your ear before cuffing your wrists. he slowly gets behind you and lays you down on your stomach, making sure there’s a pillow under your head and another one beneath your stomach.

“comfortable?” he whispers. you nod your head softly before you feel his hands pulling your bare hips up higher. you squirm when you feel the faint whisper of air hit your core, earning a slight giggle from jake behind you. your eyes flutter shut when you feel him grope the soft skin of your ass. they shoot right back open when he licks a firm stripe from your clit back up to your leaking hole.

“fuck jae please…” you moaned out. he gave gentle licks to your clit before pressing his tongue down and nodding his head, the friction causing you to arch your back up even further. another soft moan escaped your lips.

he licks another stripe up to your hole before surging his glazed tongue into your pussy. he hums softly at the taste, his hands still prying your legs open. you whimper once you feel him pump his tongue in and out of you.

“my baby tastes so sweet… i can’t believe i’ve never done this before you smell and taste so so sweet…” he whispers against you, just loud enough for you to hear.

the soft music playing from the tv makes its way into the atmosphere that’s currently suffocating the both of you.

you arch your back impossibly further when he sticks his middle finger into your pussy, a mewl leaving your mouth before he starts penetrating you with his finger oh so perfectly.

“you’re so tight,” he says in almost a whimper, the way your walls gripped him sent a shiver down his spine, stirring him back to life—something he hadn’t thought possible after how many times he’d already came because of you.

“more jae- need more!” you cried out beneath him, he had perfect view of the side of your face twisting and turning due to the pleasure. he couldn’t keep his precious girl in pain so he did exactly what you asked him to do, he adds another finger.

“fuck!” you cry out as the two digits in you start going in deeper and deeper before hitting your sweet spot. you jerk your hips forward, causing him to stop.

“ngh why’d you stop jae, please please…” you whined. he scoffs before palming your ass again, his grip on the skin almost bruising.

“don’t move, i won’t continue if you move.” his tone is deep, almost irresistible yet commanding. you knew he wasn’t joking.

“okay.. i promise i won’t just keep going jae please”

“can I try something… something we discussed?” he asks, his voice laced with hesitation. he was eager to explore everything, yet the fear of causing you pain kept him at bay. his love for you was so overwhelming, it took all his courage just to speak those words.

“hmm, what is it?” you mumble against the pillow.

“the… the um being rough, i wanna wrap my hands around that pretty neck, will you let me?…” he breathes out, the words seemingly getting stuck in his throat mid sentence but still laced with mischief.

a soft moan escapes you at the mere thought, causing a shiver to race down his spine. “jae, yes… please,” you murmur, your voice quivering with need. he leans down and kisses the side of your face before sticking his fingers back into you, constantly hitting your g spot.

“harder…” you breathe out, being the perfect boyfriend he is, he listens. the only sounds heard now is your soft panting, his hands slapping against your core and the soft groans leaving jake’s mouth as he speeds up. before you know it, you feel his free hand trail up to cup your jaw, a bit of your drool landing on his hand.

“jakey…”

and with that he wraps his fingers around your soft neck, earning a particularly loud moan from you.

“fuck i didn’t think you’d like it this much. my good girl, it feels good doesn’t it?”

fuck you felt like you were floating, suffocating not only because of his hands but his words too. “m’close.” you manage to breathe out in between moans and whimpers, he tightens his grip on your throat and slams another finger into you causing you let out a strangled yell.

“yes yes yes…” you babbled. you were too consumed by pleasure to notice when he let go of your throat. It wasn’t until the sudden vibration pressed against your swollen clit that a sharp jolt ran through your body, forcing you to collapse onto the bed, your strength completely drained.

he keeps the vibrator on the highest setting, settling it beneath you, right where your pretty clit is perched, pushing it further and further onto your sensitive bud.

“jae, fuck! fuck fuck jae i can’t i cant-“ your word were cut short by his hand going back up to your throat, gripping just enough to have your eyes rolling to the back of your head, your legs trembling beneath his as he rubs the vibrator back and forth along your puffy lips.

“you can, my pretty girl, you can and you will… right?” he whispers along your shoulder, leaving wet open mouth kisses on the skin.

“i will… i will, jae… i promise…” you whimper between moans, your body trembling as if it might give out at any second. passing out during sex? that would definitely be a first.

he feels himself growing even harder at the way your body tries to jolt away from the toy. “can you take me baby…?” he asks so softly, his voice angelic in contrast to the grip he had on you.

“please… need you…” and that’s all it took for jake to pump his angry cock a few times before thrusting into you with no mercy. one hand still holding the vibrator against you and the other on your hip.

both of your moans sounding nothing short of a cliche porno. skin slapping, the buzzing, the creaking of the bed rocking this was all your own personal heaven.

“m’gonna cum—” your words break off as he slams into you even harder, lifting your hips even higher until he finds that perfect angle that has you screaming. within moments, your release crashes over you, spreading warmth between your tangled bodies.

“just hold on a little longer, baby…” he moans before driving into you a few more times. his breath comes in ragged pants as he asks, “where do you want it?”

“inside…” you breath out as he keeps thrusting through your high. the vibrator still against your clit. “wait jae fuck…” he thrusts a bit harder, hitting a new angle, everything still going causing your overstimulated core to clench around him.

“shit, you’re fucking squeezing me y/n…” he moans before rubbing the toy even faster against your clit.

“jae… jae… hold on…” you gasp, your breath hitching as that familiar tightness coils in the pit of your stomach again—but this time, it feels different.

he releases inside your warm walls causing you to topple over the edge. you yell out his name one last time before squirting on his length. he watches with glossy eyes as your arousal trails down his thighs before he slowly pulls out.

you lie there, completely limp against the bed, panting like a dog as soft whimpers slip from your lips while you try to catch your breath. jake moves beside you, his touch gentle as he slowly uncuffs your wrists. you instinctively tuck your hands under the pillow for comfort, sighing at the relief. he rubs your shoulders soothingly before leaning down to press a soft, reassuring kiss to your cheek.

“you okay, baby doll?” he whispers, his voice laced with concern. you nod weakly as he gently tucks stray strands of hair away from your face.

“i’ll be back…”

the bed shifts as he gets up, heading to the bathroom. you hear the faint sound of running water before he returns with a warm, damp towel. with careful hands, he cleans you up, his touch soft and soothing, before tossing the towel into the hamper.

“let’s get you into something more comfortable, yeah?” he murmurs, his voice soft as he watches your eyes flutter shut.

you give a small nod, tucking your hands tighter beneath your head. sleep pulls at you, dragging you in and out of consciousness, but the last thing you remember is your sweet, angelic boyfriend gently dressing you in fresh pajamas and pressing a tender kiss to your forehead.

“love you…” you murmur softly.

“mm… i love you too angel…” he whispers before throwing a fuzzy blanket over the two of you.

[poisonf0rest]

Poison I am on my hands and knees BEGGING PLEADING IMPLORING for some more teacher Rafayel i did not know I needed it until you made me see the light godbless biggest fattest kiss for you MUAH

(I hope you don’t take this as me demanding you to write anything, definitely only if you want of course!!)

teacher's pet?

♱⋅── a/n: 3k of Professor! Rafayel. It's not his fault you're so easy to tease, to rile up, to get you right where he wants you when you're being a brat and not listening to your dear professor. art credit to @/sugarqiyu on x

Rafayel is a world-renowned artist, known for his masterpieces communicating all the rage and depth of the ocean, a devotion so palpable apparently you could drown in it. A rumor second only to his notorious reputation of having the face of an angel and personality of the devil. 

You can vouch that both these rumors are damn near true. 

Linkon University jumped at the opportunity when the Rafayel offered to become an adjunct professor for the senior year art capstone.

From the first day, the entire lecture hall was captivated under Rafayel's siren spell, his voice like sweet poison as he first introduced himself to the class, words a careful balance between arrogant and playful— that is, until you introduced yourself. 

It was barely noticeable, something you almost swear you imagine, but those sunset eyes light up when you say your name, his smile becomes a little less hollow, and something in his gaze arrests you so violently you nearly forget to look away. 

Little do you know Rafayel has been looking for you in this lifetime for nearly seventy years. And finally, finally he’s found you. So what if these circumstances are a little less ideal than usual? 

He’s not letting you go again. 

Professor Rafayel gives you impossible standards to meet, critiques that cut deep enough to make you want to scream, and grades that keep you shackled to his office hours.

He’s careful, though. His feedback is always just shy of unreasonable, his authority unchallenged, his reputation untouchable. And when you come storming into his office demanding an explanation, he just smiles, leaning back in his chair with the air of a predator who knows his prey walked right into the trap.

“Poor thing,” he drawls, feigning sympathy as his eyes slowly trace your figure from behind his glasses. “Maybe you’re just not cut out for this. But I suppose... with the right guidance...”

He lets the offer dangle, his gaze heated and unwavering. You hate that your heart races, hate that you need his approval, his help. Hate that he looks so damn smug knowing just how to make you beg, just how to make you come looking for him instead. 

Professor Rafayel savors every insult you hurl behind his back, every time you grumble to your friends about his impossible standards and arrogant demeanor. He listens, silently cataloging each biting word, each curse muttered under your breath.

And when he finally has you moaning his name, his mouth wicked and merciless between your thighs, he can’t help but remind you of every cruel thing you’ve said.

“You’ve got such a filthy mouth, cutie. Didn't you call me a sadistic asshole last week?” His fingers dig into your hips, holding you in place as he flicks your clit with his tongue again, smirking as you writhe in overstimulation. “I suppose I am... but you love it, don’t you?”

The way you choke on a sob only makes him smile wider.

Private lessons with Professor Rafayel become a blur between you learning and losing your mind. 

Half of the time, Rafayel is a masterful teacher, and his passion for art is as mesmerizing as his paintings. He speaks about color theory with a fervor that none of your other professors have come close to, his eyes alight as he explains the emotional weight of each shade, the way hues can whisper secrets or scream rage. His knowledge is boundless, and his lessons on storytelling through art are so captivating you almost forget to breathe.

But it’s the tales of Lemuria that leave you spellbound, like something out of a fairytale or tragedy. Ancient techniques lost to time, rituals where pigments were mixed with seashells, and spells hidden in brushstrokes. He speaks with such reverence, his voice low and haunting, and sometimes, just sometimes, you catch a flicker of sorrow in his gaze, as if he’s lived through it all.

He shows you his personal collection, paints richer and more vivid than anything you’ve ever seen. Reds deeper than blood, shimmering blues that seem to ripple like water. He teaches you to paint underwater landscapes that feel eerily familiar, scenes of ancient temples swallowed by the sea, fragments of a forgotten and drowned world.

You convince yourself it’s just Rafayel’s eccentric genius rubbing off on you, a byproduct of his intoxicating charisma. But then he watches you with that knowing smile, his eyes gleaming as if he’s waiting for you to remember something you’ve long forgotten.

The other half of the time, Professor Rafayel’s lessons are nothing short of madness. He invades your space, his body always too close, his mere presence overwhelming.

His hands are always on yours when he shows you how to sketch the curve of moving muscle, the delicate slope of a hip, fingers guiding yours with agonizing slowness. His touches linger, featherlight in ways that make you shiver, his breath brushing your ear as he murmurs instructions, his voice addictive and velvety.

You try to stay focused, try to be professional, but his scent wraps around you, warm and heady, and your mind spirals. You spend far too long watching the way his hands move, the lithe grace of his fingers, the gentle strength that could so easily ruin you.

Your paintbrush trembles, your breathing uneven, and you can’t help the way your heart races when his chest presses against your back, his hands guiding yours as he whispers, “Just like that... perfect.”

Your professor knows exactly what he’s doing, of course. Rafayel feels the way your hand trembles around the paintbrush, sees the way your pupils dilate, hears every shaky breath. Rafayel drinks it all in, his smile infuriatingly smug, his sunset eyes heavy with satisfaction.

And when he finally touches you—really, truly touches you—all your remaining morality crumbles.

Of course, it’s punishment when you fail to turn in your twenty still-life practices by the end of the week. 

You’re slammed down on his desk before you can think to protest, paint-stained fingers clutching the wood as he presses you down, his body caging you in. He kisses like he paints, with passion and devotion, stealing your breath and sanity in one fell swoop. His hands are everywhere—your waist, your hips, your thighs—touching, gripping, claiming.

You gasp as he pushes your skirt up, his fingers slipping beneath your underwear, babbling nonsense about how dare you wear something so cute, so sinful to his class and how he’s been thinking about ripping it off your slutty little hips all day long. 

“All that complaining, but you’re rather obedient now,” Rafayel teases, his voice mocking as his fingers curl, instantly finding that spot that makes you scream around his fingers. “Maybe if you weren’t so stubborn, you’d learn faster.”

You curse him, or at least you try, but the words dissolve into a broken moan as he curls them up again, his thumb circling your clit with maddening precision. Rafayel laughs. “You’re very cute when you’re frustrated.”

He doesn’t stop until you’re crying his name, apologizing for being a brat, every stroke and curl of his fingers calculated to drive you to the edge, to make you lose all sense of time and reason. And when Rafayel finally lets you come undone, his name spilling from your lips like a prayer, he watches you fall apart with that infuriatingly smug smile, as if this was his plan all along.

And maybe it was.

Later, you’ll try to paint again, your mind hazy, body aching. But every brushstroke feels too intimate, every color too vibrant, too alive. You’ll stare at the canvas and swear it’s moving, the paint shimmering, swirling, forming shapes that look hauntingly like his eyes. You’ll feel his presence behind you, his hands warm on your shoulders, his voice velvet-smooth as he purrs, “See? Was that so hard?”

Private lessons were always his trap. And now, Rafayel’s got you exactly where he wants you.

When Professor Rafayel suggests you sketch him nude “for practice,” he’s already won. 

You know it the moment his lips curl into that wicked, knowing smile, the kind that makes your pulse race and your stomach flip. You should have said no. Should have refused, made up some excuse, anything to avoid this situation.

But you didn’t. You couldn’t. And now you’re trapped, heart pounding as he begins to strip in front of you.

He’s maddeningly slow about it, drawing out each movement with practiced ease, and you’re hyper-aware of every single detail. The way his fingers deftly loosen his tie, the silk sliding from his collar with a whisper that makes your breath hitch. His eyes never leave you, watching every nervous fidget, every time you shift in your seat pretending to be unaffected. But you don’t fool him. Not for a second.

Rafayel’s hands continued down to the buttons of his shirt, his long fingers working methodically, one by one, exposing more pale skin with every pop of fabric. You can’t help it—your gaze follows the path of his fingers, tracing the lines of his collarbones, the lean muscle beneath his skin.

You swallow hard, mentally debating if it would be worse to watch him or worse to chicken out now, practically surrendering and acknowledging what watching your professor does to you. Not that you could think at all when his shirt falls open, slipping off his shoulders to pool on the tiled floor, leaving him half-naked, so casually beautiful it makes you ache.

Rafayel’s enjoying this far too much. There’s the same smug glint in his eyes as he watches you struggle to maintain your composure. He begins to thumb at his slacks and you whip your head away, your entire body going rigid at the sound of his belt unbuckling, the click of metal on metal echoing through the empty lecture hall.

You don’t dare look, eyes glued to the blank canvas before you as heat floods your cheeks. But your traitorous mind cruelly fills in the details, painting a picture more vivid than any still life you’ve ever drawn. You hear the rustle of fabric, the soft creak of the pedestal as he positions himself, and when you finally gather the courage to glance back the sight makes you forget the canvas entirely. 

Rafayel lounges on the pedestal like he belongs there, all long limbs and lazy grace, his body on full display with a confidence that borders on obscene. His skin is milky pale, the delicate arch of his ribs leading to the defined lines of his abdomen and fuck of course he has a six pack, his muscles lean and corded beneath flawless flesh.

Rafayel is every bit the masterpiece you expected, unfairly beautiful even like this, his glasses still perched on his nose, that infuriatingly smug smile playing at his lips.

“Well?” he drawls, arching an eyebrow as he settles into a pose, one arm draped artfully over his head, his body a careful composition of sharp lines and curves. “I thought you were supposed to be drawing, not gawking. Not the best student, are you?”

Your cheeks burn hotter, and you force yourself to look back at the canvas, gripping the charcoal so hard it threatens to snap. You try to be professional, try to focus on the technicalities—the shapes, the shadows, the proportions. But it’s impossible when every angle of him is so utterly mesmerizing, when every stretch and shift only highlights the elegance of his form.

Your strokes are shaky at first, charcoal dust smudging your fingers as you outline his figure, but it’s hard to stay steady when his ocean dual-toned eyes are fixed on you, gleaming with mischief and something far more dangerous. He knows exactly what he’s doing, each subtle change in his posture designed to make you squirm. When he stretches, his body arching like a cat, you almost drop your charcoal, your mouth going dry at the ripple of muscle, the unapologetic sensuality of it all.

“You’re tense,” he comments, his voice soft, lilting with amusement. “Your lines are stiff. Rigid.” He shifts, his body unfurling as he sits up, one leg bent, his arm resting lazily atop his knee. You make a sound in protest, frowning as you lose your reference. “Heh, you won’t capture the fluidity of the human form like that. You need to relax, loosen up.”

You bite back a retort, teeth grinding as you force yourself to adjust your grip, trying to follow his advice. But then he’s standing, moving toward you without a semblance of shame or modesty, his fingers curling around yours, guiding the charcoal along the paper. His completely bare body is too close, his skin too warm, the faint persistent seasalt and driftwood scent of his cologne too intoxicating as he presses against your back.

You don’t even realize you’re leaning back into his touch, one hand still shading the muscle and contour of his body as the other blindly reaches out for Rafayel’s body, hitting the edge of his abs before sliding downwards ever so slowly. 

“Don’t stop there, I’ll help.” And Rafayel’s hands come to meet yours, encircling the charcoal with one as the other wraps your palm around his dick. “You have to move your hand like this…” Gently flicking his wrist to show you the proper shading technique for the lighter areas, groaning into the back of his neck as you repeat the movement around his base, already leaking down to your fingers. 

“Just like that, nice and fluid.” His fingers guide yours around his shaft, setting a pace that makes his breath hitch, his head dipping to rest against your shoulder as his hips roll forward, chasing the friction. “Good girl.”

You can barely focus, your vision blurring as he curls his fingers around yours, moving the charcoal in slow, fluid strokes over the paper. But your other hand is trapped—held in place by his, wrapped around the velvety heat of his cock, his hips giving the tiniest, most subtle thrusts into your palm as if he can’t help himself.

He’s so hard, so hot, already leaking onto your fingers, and your breath shudders as he groans against your neck, his lips ghosting over your skin.

“You’re sooo tense, cutie. Why is that, hmm?”

“Professor…” His title slips out before you can stop it, your voice trembling, your fingers tightening instinctively around him. His laugh is breathy, wicked, and he nips at your ear, his teeth sharp, his tongue soothing the sting. 

“Remember, it’s just Rafayel when we’re together.”

You can’t breathe, can’t think, not when he’s so close, not when he’s touching you like this, guiding you, molding you. His thumb rolls over yours, smudging charcoal across the page, and you realize you’ve accidentally traced the same curve over and over, lost in the rhythm he’s set. You’re not even drawing anymore, just following his lead, letting him control every movement, every sensation.

“Rafayel.” You repeat, and he swears he loses his mind just a little. 

“That’s it,” he urges, his voice shaking slightly, rougher. “You can be braver than that. This is your art, isn’t it? You decide what to do with it.” Rafayel’s teeth scrape along your neck, and you shiver, your eyes fluttering shut as he ruts against you, his cock twitching in your grip, his moans muffled against your shoulder as he loses himself to the pleasure you’re giving him. 

When suddenly, he pulls away. 

You’re entire body goes rigid. Did you do something wrong? Did he change his mind? Has he finally realized how utterly inappropriate this is and chose to save himself the scandal and embarrassment of being caught with you? 

Mind still racing a mile a minute, it’s Rafayel’s gentle touch on your tense shoulders that has you breathing again.  “On second thought, maybe I’m not in the right condition to teach you. Maybe you also need to…” Rafayel’s arms come to wrap around you, fingers slipping under your shirt as lips trace the shell of your ear, and you swear you feel a light nip. “get comfortable.”

The charcoal hits the ground with a hollow crack. 

Your back hits the wall of his office with a muffled thud, his lips crashing against yours with a hunger that leaves you breathless. This was supposed to be a professional meeting, it was supposed to end with you getting that damned A back on the last assignment. But not like this. Not this.

It’s reckless, dangerous, stupid. But Rafayel’s hands are already beneath your shirt, those stupidly gorgeous and talented fingers caressing bare skin, and each heated touch makes it harder to remember why you were fighting in the first place.

“Wait,” you gasp between kisses, your voice trembling as his mouth trails down your neck, “People might see...”

“Shh, it’s okay, cutie,” Rafayel laughs, his voice a low purr that vibrates against your collarbone. His eyes are half-lidded, pupils blown wide with desire, a wicked grin playing at his lips. He’s already ruined you, already got you drunk on his touch, and yet you’re still worrying about silly, inconsequential things. That means he’s not doing enough. “No one will know.”

Not that he’d mind. In fact, the thought of someone catching you like this—of someone realizing that you’re his, completely and irrevocably—only excites Rafayel more. After all, he didn’t lock the door. Anyone truly could just walk in, and his cock jumps at the thought. 

Teeth grazing your pulse, Rafayel’s tongue soothes the sting as his fingers tease below the waistband of your jeans. “You’re so cute when you try to be good,” he teases, his voice mockingly sweet. “Too bad you’re not really the model student you pretend to be.”

Your protest dies in your throat as his hand finds your clit with practiced ease, stroking slow and deliberate through your panties, drawing out a needy whimper that you can’t quite swallow. His mouth is on yours again before you can think to be embarrassed, the kiss possessive, consuming, swallowing every last protest you can think of. 

“See?” he whispers against your lips, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction. “You don’t really care who hears, do you?” Rafayel then curls his fingers, thrusting deep in as you scream, clawing at his shoulders and desk as your knees go weak.

God, you hate him. You hate the way he knows your body better than you do, the way he unravels you so easily. You hate the smug look on his face, the cocky confidence as he drives you to the edge. But you hate yourself more for how desperately you crave him, how much you want him, consequences be damned.

Because he’s right, nothing matters here. Not anymore. 

Nothing besides your dear professor.

[yanderedrabbles]

hello val 🥺🫶🏻 I love your work so I read some of them over and over again especially your yandere desert bandit work ajsjdjd Idk if your truest is open...but can I request reader daily life as the yandere bandit wife??

(If your request is close or you don't feel like writing this request feel free to ignore this ily muah muah <333)

Yandere Desert Bandit - Aftermath

Son of the sand, his touch isn't gentle. But perhaps he can learn.

Yandere! Desert Bandit will do anything to feel your touch on him. After a raid, you're the one he orders to clean the blood off his skin. He'll sit in the centre of the tent, stripped to his waist as you run a damp cloth over his muscles. If you ask, he'll tell you the story of every scar.

At night, Yandere! Desert Bandit sits with you in front of the fire, his arm propped up behind you. If it's a particularly cold night, he'll pull you onto his lap and drape his arms around you. His touch is always warm, like he soaks in the desert heat.

His men complain that he's the only one with a bride and Yandere! Desert Bandit smiles and says you're his reward from the dunes and sand.

He watches the way his men act around you. And anyone who steps over the line is soon gone. He sends them away, he tells you. But you've seen the small splatters of blood on his sleeves and you wonder how true that is.

Yandere! Desert Bandit who feeds you dates and honey with his bare hands. His eyes never leaving yours when you suck the sweetness off his fingers.

Yandere! Desert Bandit who trusts you enough to take care of his horse and his sword. If you wanted, you could grab her bridle and make a run for it or swing his own blade at him when his back is turned. But he knows you won't. Not out of love, but out of necessity.

Yandere! Desert Bandit who knows you can't survive without him.

Yandere! Desert Bandit who makes you brush and braid his hair every night. Who tilts his head into your touch.

Yandere! Desert Bandit who still struggles to control himself. Who still leaves bruises when he fucks you. Who kisses each cut and scrape like he isn't the one who gave them to you.

Yandere! Desert Bandit who boils water every morning and wakes you with fresh tea. Who always drinks from your cup - it's all the sweeter that way.

Yandere! Desert Bandit who watches your breath mix with the steam, and thinks how lucky he is to have you.

[starrspice]

YEAH EVERYONE LOOK AT SPACIE AND HOW GREAT THEY ARE

Get Cherub-ified Spacie ❤️

every1 look at this NOW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[soleilapproves]

Imagine forcing Toji to kiss you through the phone.

Note: reader is referred to as girl at one point.

You know he hates corny relationship cliches but you were lucky enough to have him wrapped around your finger. You knew you could use the fact that he would do anything to keep you happy to your advantage.

Masterlist

-•-

It was just another night after work where you’d wind down by calling your boyfriend before going to bed. Most of it was just about future dates and stuff your coworkers did to annoy you. One thing you liked about him was that he would never be distracted while talking to you.

His reactions when you’d tell him about all the things that happen in your day were the best. The subtle gasp when you’d talk about your friend being cheated on or the little ‘ew’ he’d say when you’d talk about accidentally stepping on a worm would be the highlights of your call. He would always listen intently whether it was a huge news or something boring and mundane.

“So-“ yawn “-I decided to buy the blouse after all.” You said to your boyfriend. “You sound tired, honey. What time did you wake up this morning?” He asked on the other side of the line.

“Uh, I think 5 am. I’ve been trying to work out in the morning.”

“Babe, you don’t need to wake up that early to work out. It’s all about how effective it’s gonna be. You should’ve asked me to help you out.”

“Tojiii, you’re so sweet but I couldn’t get you to wake up that early just to come to my place.” Your heart melted at your boyfriend’s words. How did you manage to score someone like him?

“Wait, before I say anything, can you say my name like that again?” You knew he wanted you to whine his name. He really liked it when you sounded desperate (take that as you will).

“Ugh, you’re so weird, Tojiiii,” you said as you rolled your eyes. “Atta girl, now, get to bed. I’ll be at your place by 6:30 so you can get an extra hour of sleep, alright?”

“Thank you, babe.” You could hear his deep voice hum through the phone as a reply.

“We should hang up since we’re gonna wake up early.”

“Alright, good night, honey.” He said. “I’ll wait for you to hang up fir-“

“Wait!” You decided to test his patience one last time before turning in for the night. “Kiss me through the phone.”

“What the- what are you talking about?” You could only imagine your boyfriend’s bewildered face as you snickered to yourself. “I’m not doing that.”

“Why not?” You tried to sound as sad as possible to convince him. “Because, well, I don’t know. It’s weird.”

“Loving me is weird?” You then changed your tone to sound offended. “No, no, no, I’m not saying that. It’s just- kissing you through the phone? Come on, babe, we aren’t 13.”

“Yeah, you’re right, good night, Toji. I… love you.” You went back to sounding sad. It killed you to take advantage of your boyfriend’s soft spot for you but you couldn’t help yourself. It was fun to tease him.

“Wait, babe don’t hang up!”

“What?”

“Muah”

There were a few minutes of silence after you had just heard your boyfriend kiss you through the phone. “Babe?”

You burst out laughing. “That was so worth it, I should record it next time.” You pretended to wipe a tear. You knew Toji was probably seething.

“Don’t you dare!”

[yuriyuruandyuraart]

BTW, I went through my photos yesterday and remembered the time us simps went to jail and were surrounded by pretty ladies in, like, an alleyway or smth, where we got kisses.

.

And flustered Nightmare.

HHHHHHHH-----

how could i forget the simp jail arc....too bad night won't allow anyone to get away with flustering her without some sort of punishment so you're welcome? >;) <33333

[leafostuff]

Double Mountain [Ft. Weeekly Jihan]

Tags: BFH, Quickie, Titjob, Soft Dom, Sweet talk, Teasing, College classmates to fuck buddies

Author notes: @defmaybe its your fault i am doing this, also yours too @4m1rz

Have a good read

=================================

"Relax cutie, you are not making it easy for yourself"

Yeah, Easy for her to say, you're totally not trying to stifle your moans from how good Jihyo's tits rub on your naked member, how she is looking at you with that adorable yet devilish smile that only screams trouble.

Who would've guessed that the only reason she asked for your help in the girl's bathroom was in fact to help you jerk off, definitely not you.

"Hnghh...fuck" is the only thing you can mumble as she takes your right hand to rest on the back of her head.

"You are so cute when you groan like this..." She giggles at your respond then leans in to give the tip of your cock a teasing kiss, even adding a 'muah' sound to add salt to your 'injury' . "So cute"

Your cock starts twitching, releasing small amounts of precum which flows on the top of her mounds that makes Jihyo flash a wide grin

"Aww, you're close aren't you?" She asked, Don't answer, it's a rhetorical question. "I'm not stopping, just let it go and release, i want all of that cum on my tits". She adds.

Look down at her again, her pleading smile is almost irresistible to not oblige to her but the only you can manage to do is just groan from the pleasure yet no cum manage to come out.

"You are almost there cutie, do you need some help?" You can only nod, "Okay, i am gonna count from 3 to 1, when i get to 1 i want you to relax your mind and let yourself go" she doesnt wait for your approval, its not like you could say anything to her anyways.

"Okay...3" Jihyo tucks a couple of hair strands behind her ears

"2..." You close your eyes, feeling yourself getting close to that anticipated Climax that she is waiting for.

"And...1"

It works, and a long river of cum flows from your cock. on her tits, her face, some even gets inside her mouth and Jihyo starts giggling, like a kid in a candy shop.

You finally feel relieved, groaning one last time before letting the last drops of cum get squeezed by her diligent hands, then rising herself from your cock.

"You did such a good job cutie" she compliments you happily while straddling your lap ,leaning close to plant a soft audible kiss on your lips, "Lets get dressed before everyone sees us" she adds while giving you your jeans and briefs. "I will see you next week?".

"for what?" You manage to ask between pants, taking your jeans and putting them on you, she cant help but giggle at you.

"For the next time you need help of course~" she responds in a playful tone, smiling at you while her hands travel across your chest.

"and of course, one day i will need some...'help' of my own from you, right cutie?"

Something about the way she says that last sentence makes you believe this is not the last time you will meet her.

=================================

[stilessflannel]

idk if you write for luke but imagine sneaking into mr ds office and getting comfy because you like the idea of getting caught 👀

this has been going around my head ever since i received it and i finally did something about it 😗 also i got asked for a percy jackson smut and to do whatever i want with it (yk who you are sweet anon) so does this count? muah xx

sneaking into mr d’s office with luke castellan was something you thought you’d never do. but your boyfriend had a tendency to ignore or try break unspoken rules, and that led to luke interrupting your cabin’s lava wall training, promising them their counsellor would be back soon as he dragged you away.

“are you out of your mind?” you hiss at him, checking behind you every five seconds, “we’re going to get caught by mr d or chiron!”

luke only offered the signature grin all hermes kids owned and continued until he had locked the door behind you. there wasn't much to take in - big wooden desk, a map of half-blood hill on a wall, a dusty bookshelf, and the faint smell of diet coke. while you were taking in your surroundings, luke gained a keen interest in the desk with locked drawers down each side. it only took a few seconds before he had them unlocked and he pulled up a bag full of drachmas.

normally you'd never go around to the other side of the desk to try pry a drawer open for yourself. the idea wouldn't even cross your mind to stuff as many bags of gold into your pockets as you possibly could; but it was mr d and drachmas he wouldn't be spending anytime soon seeing as he was confined to the camps boundaries, anyone would do the same.

once you were finished luke's arms wrap around your waist and hoist you onto the surface of the desk, as warm lips attack your neck and big hands work their way up and under your orange shirt. a sigh escapes your lips and your fingers wrap into his raven hair. "hey there"

"hey" he mumbles back, muffled against your neck as he presses a last kiss behind your ear and pressing his forehead against yours. "twenty minutes 'till lunch."

"yeah... wanna go back to mine?" you offer your cabin, playing with the beads on his camp necklace. an unsure hum from him makes you look up at him. you can see the lightbulb light up behind his blue irises. he picks you up so your legs wrap around his hips and sits back into the padded desk chair

"i think we'll be just fine here, yeah?" he said, pressing a kiss into the side of your mouth and working his way back down your neck to make the marks he left earlier brighter. you try your hardest to focus on luke and the heavenly way his mouth feels on your skin, but your mind kept jumping to mr d and chiron finding their two best counsellors in this state. the thought of either of them terrified you to your wits end, but also sent a surge of thrill through your veins.

luke brings you back by digging his teeth into your collarbone and eliciting a groan from you, effectively shutting off your care for who could catch you. you grab his jaw and force him to look at you and you fold - his lovesick face with pupils blown wide from lust makes you crash your lips against his. its messy and rough and perfect for you two as hands explore each others bodies. you pull away to tug your shirt off your head and he follows suit, then you're back on each other again.

the sound fills with small moans, sighs, and gasps from both of you. you're too far gone to hear the footsteps approach the door, too caught up in the feeling of grinding against luke and hearing his faint groans to notice the voices behind the door and the rattling of the handle being twisted. it isn't until the door squeaks on its hinges that you turn to look over your shoulder and see mr d, his face as red as the wine he invented.

you could argue the two weeks wash up duty was worth it.

taglist: @izzieluvsdelusion @azure-drag0ness @vivi-anasan @percyssunlithope @amandareids @raysmayhem-72 // join the taglist here

[shunsuiken]

DON’T FORGET WHO’S TAKING YOU HOME (and in whose arms you’re gonna be).

pairing(s). kaeya, childe, ayato, kaveh, neuvillette x fem!reader

genre. fluff

wc. 200-400 for each character

an. AND SING WITH ME 🎤🎤 SO DARLING SAVE THE LAST DANCE FOR MEEE michael buble literally left no crumbs with this song i had to write about it omg + ALSO happy valentines day everyone !!! i may not have a valentine this year but im happy to post this for anybody feeling a little lonely today !! you are so so loved okay ?!!! come and collect a kiss from me before reading on 💋 MUAH have a lovely valentines day !!! <33

kaeya alberich

you’re really good at hiding, kaeya thinks to himself with a huff and a smile on his lips. searching all over the plaza for you was making him break a sweat in his navy blue tuxedo. with another turn around the corner he decides to remove his tuxedo jacket for the time being, folding it over his arm to carry instead.

“no, no, no klee! stop it! you can’t play with your things here, if you blow things up-”

“-master jean will put me in solitary confinement…”

oho, kaeya recognises these two voices very well. he finds it so hilarious that at the end, his feet lead him right to you! not even a single thought was processed as he turned the corner two seconds ago but here you are.

he hides behind the large potted plant, listening to the conversation you and the beloved spark knight share. he stays there until it becomes quiet between you two.

“kaeya, you peacock, i know it’s you.”

kaeya lets out a baffled noise, finally showing himself from behind the plant, offended by the ridiculous nickname you gave him. “snowflake, how dare you?”

“klee, don’t eavesdrop on people like this man when you grow older, yeah?” you point animatedly at your lover, who’s folding his arms and scoffing at you.

klee only giggles, nodding her head. “i gotta go find albedo now!” you watch as she skips off towards the plaza, waving goodbye.

you then turn towards your next problem that stands behind you. “i thought you were out dancing?”

“i was, but they’ll start playing the last dance soon and how can my last dance not be with you?” your lover walks towards you, pulling you closer by your waist with his free arm. you immediately wrap your arms around his neck, smiling softly at his intentions.

you hear an announcement echoing from the plaza before you can reply, and you figure it might have been mika because of how timid the voice sounded.

“good evening everyone, please bring all your friends and company over for the last dance of the night!”

“sounds like our queue.” you slide your arms off his shoulder to grab his hand, pulling him with you without warning.

“oh snowflake, hold on-” kaeya almost trips on air and the sounds of your laughter bounce off the concrete floor and walls as you drag him down the staircase leading to the plaza.

childe

you can never refuse ajax’s request for a dance, because he won’t take no for an answer. especially when it comes to dancing. your feet hurt so much. you’re so ready to just fall on top of your bed and go to sleep. but the only thing that keeps you wide awake, heart pumping and everything is the look on your lover's face.

his gaze usually has this inhumane and dull look to them, but you find that whenever he looks at you or when he participates in something he loves, his gaze finally twinkles. it works so miraculously too. like all of a sudden life was returned to him and he could see.

the smile on your lips grows when you think about this. you think it’s sweet how you’re one of the reasons that the life in his eyes returns.

ajax notices the tighter grip you hold on his forearm, making his lips curl in curiosity. “what’s going on in your head, baby?”

you zone in on the situation, you’re still dancing, and you shake your head in response. “nothing, ajax.” you want to keep your thoughts to yourself but when ajax smiles at you like that, with the most expectant look on his face, you can’t help yourself. “actually, i just thought about the dance.”

he twirls you around to the music before connecting arms with you again. “you just thought about the dance?” his brow quirks in amusement.

“no, no not like that,” you say with a sheepish chuckle before continuing, “i just thought that this number is the longest one so far.”

“well of course,” ajax responds with an eye smile. “it’s the last song.”

“it… is?” you look up at ajax while trying to fight the urge to look anywhere else.

if this is the last song… and you’re dancing with him… then that can only mean-

when the choreography allows ajax to pull you against his chest, he leans down so he can whisper in your ear, “you will be my final dance partner tonight.”

kamisato ayato

these few days at fontaine have been strumming the strings of your heart like a guitar—ayato has been spending so much time with you that you’re beginning to think of such ridiculous conclusions. his eyes that linger on your face, his hand that hovers on the small of your back when leading you out of a hall and it’s just these little things that he does with you that makes you want to claw an entire curtain off its rod. one time he even poured you a glass of wine before taking a sip with the same glass—it’s like he’s forgotten he’s the yashiro commissioner!

thoma and ayaka barely bat an eye. but also, they’ve known ayato for much longer than you have since you were a recent (and lovely) addition to the little family. so… perhaps this is just how he acts?

“uh-huh, when he’s courting someone that is.”

the sentence that thoma said offhandedly is the only thing that rings through your mind. but your thoughts must’ve shone through your expression because ayato is quick on his feet to smoothly guide you off the dance floor, gloved hand still holding yours as he brings you to a less crowded area—the balcony.

“you appeared to be distracted, that’s why i pulled us away,” ayato breaks the silence and your train of thoughts.

he’s still holding my hand—is what you’re repeating in your head. your eyes can barely focus on a single object within your field of vision. your bottom lip quivers at the revelation you’re carefully starting to uncover.

“i am not distracted,” you inhale sharply when you accidentally meet ayato’s gaze. “i…” your brows crease as you try to get words out of your mouth.

ayato brings your hand up to his lips, placing a chaste kiss on the back of your hand and you can physically feel the blood rush up to your fingertips. “would my lady like to return to the hotel?”

your voice leaves your throat in but a hoarse whisper, “what did you just call me?”

you hear a chuckle from ayato and it makes you snap your head around in embarrassment. this new term of endearment rolls off his tongue way too easily, the rascal must have been practicing!

“oh no, no, no, my lady, you must look at me,” a grin appears on ayato’s face at your attempts to hide your expression and when he finally gets you to look at him, you’re caged between his arms.

“why would you call me that?” you whine at his teasing.

“well i just couldn’t keep it to myself anymore,” ayato murmurs, a dust of pink decorating his cheeks. “will you allow me to call you that?”

kaveh

three hours. it’s been three hours since you and kaveh decided to learn a cute couples dance routine ‘for funsies’. whose idea was this again? weren’t you two supposed to be just friends? doesn’t kaveh have a client meeting tomorrow that he should be preparing for?

“so we do this—then this and then we’re supposed to oh—!”

the silence is deafening. the song playing in the background fades as you both stare at each other, even mirroring the same expression. eyes as wide as saucers. lips just inches from connection.

kaveh’s breath fans over your lips and you can hear the audible gulp he makes at the closeness. he’s also entirely aware that the red in his cheeks has reached his ears by now. while you, on the other hand, have started hearing the percussion of your heart in your own eardrums.

“o-oh…” your legs are frozen in place and hang on a second, why haven’t either of you let go?

his hand is respectfully sat on your waist, while the other is occupied holding your hand. you hear him inhale and it grabs your attention before you can get anymore lost in his gaze. his gaze observes your lovely face, eyes flickering from one feature to another as he whispers, “has anybody ever told you you’re pretty up close?”

you shake your head ever so slightly. “no.”

kaveh likes this answer, humming as he ponders for a moment.

your eyes sparkle when that handsome smile of his appears on his lips. he chuckles shortly at your expression, your palm feels so warm when connected with his.

“i’m glad i’m the first to tell you.”

neuvillette

“oh dear, neuvillette,” you chuckle softly, walking towards him as he takes another sip of his water. he stands in a more secluded corner of the hall, briefly greeting guests with a nod of the head. which is why he stands out like a sore thumb—arctic white hair, designer blue suit and a piercing gaze.

but that gaze doesn’t fool you. the dragon sovereign is probably pondering on retiring for the night and is only still present to keep up with appearances.

“yes, lady y/n?” it’s to nobody’s surprise that he heard you from metres away.

when he turns around, your eyes immediately land on the problem you’ve sensed since you returned from the dancefloor.

“your tie,” you reply, standing in front of his figure, nonchalantly raising your hands in preparation to adjust the garment. “will you allow me to fix it?”

the gears in neuvillette’s mind pause abruptly at your question. he certainly has no problem readjusting his own tie. his hands aren’t holding anything else other than his cup of water—which he can definitely put down on a nearby table!

but why can’t he bring himself to say no?

the ‘of course’ leaves his lips faster than he would have liked, but that’s no matter, your expression shows no sign of displeasure. instead, he watches your sweet smile brighten.

when your fingers reach the tie, neuvillette notices how you tiptoe to reach him. so he does what any normal person would do—he leans down.

it catches you off guard, the tips of your fingers just slightly grazing against his neck in the process. you profusely apologise in whispers to which neuvillette can only chuckle at.

“it is no trouble lady y/n, i appreciate the kind gesture.” the corner of neuvillette’s lips curve, his hands neatly tucked behind him as he allows you to redo his tie.

neuvillette’s lips only seem to further break into a smile as he watches you pat on the tie in completion.

“there, all finished.” you look up at the iudex, chuckling, “you ought to learn how to do this yourself.”

neuvillette hums, “perhaps you could teach me.” he takes your hand, gently brushing his lips against your knuckles before kissing it. “but for now a dance shall suffice, would you care to join me?”