#sfw

[digitalsnail]

june is the birthstone month of pearls and also pride month.... very interesting if i do say so myself

[silken-moonlight]

Okay I am not okay with this in my mind:

You had a shitty day, really shitty. You want to cry and curl up into a ball.

Your werewolf boyfriend won't have any of that. So he does what he thinks will help: building a comfy nest in your bed, bringing snacks, and making sure you are hydrated. He puts you in your favorite pajamas, takes care of your hair, and kisses you all over your face. You cuddle in his little nest, sheltered in his arms and enveloped in his scent.

And suddenly, the world isn't so bad anymore.

Divider credit: @thecutestgrotto

[thefingerfuckingfemalefury]

GOODEST LIL BUDDY :D

[donitkitt]

Sketchpage for @turtlesinspiration !!!

[dmmdconfessions]

[Image text: why does koujaku sit like that? it drives me insane.]

[sleepystarb0y]

30 day agere moodboards :: 14) teenre/older kidre themed (10+)

[best-of-yandere]

Mafia AU with platonic yandere Superfam

TW: mentioned death (human & animal), non-sexual breastfeeding mention, surveillance, various "light" punishments mention, slight infantilization, platonic yandere

It starts with Clark and Lois deciding to have another child. They have Jon, and Connor, of course, but they miss having a baby in their arms.

As soon as they hold you in their arms at the hospital, they're in love. It's different with you; it only takes a single coo for them to be wrapped around your chubby little fingers.

When they bring you home, you quickly win the hearts of your siblings. Fights have been started between them over who's your favorite.

You never sleep alone. As a baby, Clark and Lois keep you in their arms at night. When you grow older, your siblings are allowed to have you with them at night. A schedule is quickly devised over who gets you what nights. You do have your own room... you're just never in it.

As you grow older, it becomes apparent you're not suited for the "family business". You still cry over a bird hitting the window; insisting on nursing it back to health, only to become inconsolable when it dies.

They're ok with that. What they do is dangerous, and you're too precious to them to be put in harms way. They decide to keep the truth of what they do from you, telling you they're both reporters to explain their long hours and traveling.

You grow up sheltered, a mafia princess with no idea you are. You're not allowed to leave the compound, but you're given everything you want... except freedom. It wears on you, the lack of freedom and personal space. One of the family is always around you, and when they're not, trusted bodyguards follow you around. You beg off to your room to get at least a little alone time, unaware of the cameras and microphones lacing your room.

But they couldn't keep the truth from you forever. One day, you see Connor killing a grunt, and sweet, sheltered you runs in fright. You don't even make it to the compound's front door. Having seen you trying to escape, Jon is quick to grab you and carry you back inside. You cry, trying to tell him what Connor did, how you both have to get out of there; it breaks his heart to see you so scared! He'll take you to the family room, shushing your cries and wiping away your tears, while he waits for the rest of the family to arrive.

When they do, there's no explaining it away. They come clean, at least about their real careers. You can't accept it; your loving family; murderers, criminals? When you eventually you wear yourself out, calmed down from the exhaustion, Clark and Lois tell you that nothing has to change. They're still your family who loves you very much and would do anything for you.

You're already restricted from business areas of the compound and under heavy surveillance, so the only major changes to your life is them taking away your access to electronics so you can't ask for help. That, and Connor's newfound clingyness. He wants so badly to be your beloved, cool older brother again, that he's constantly with you, trying to get you engaged in activities with him. He'll sneak you video games and junk food to try to get in your good graces again, so things can go back to how they used to be.

Lashing out at them due to your circumstances is a good way to get punished. They'd never lay a hand on you, but they're not afraid to show you just how much freedom you've been afforded until now.

An escape attempt will earn you an escort in the bathroom and shower. Trying to hurt them will put cuffed mittens on your hands. Trying to hurt yourself will get you sedated.

Stars forbid you try a hunger strike; Lois is more than willing to take your food into her own hands. She'll start breastfeeding you again, sedating you, so you'll be compliant. Once she does, though, even if you agree to start eating again, she'll still insist on feeding you herself, treating you like a baby. She'll cut up your food and spoonfeed you each bite, taking turns with Clark for each meal time. They both missed feeling so close to you in this way, and in her and the family's eyes, there's really no reason for you to grow up.

Not when they're always going to be there to take care of you - even if you don't want them too. You may not have freedom, privacy, or bodily autonomy, but you have your family. Forever and ever and ever...

[heartnosekid]

aquamarisejewelry on ig

[cups-of-jade]

🎨 (🔗Comms • 🔗Ko-Fi • 🔗Linktree)

[jashtackarts]

Jash when orc

[kentocalls]

fushiguro toji | love you a latte ♡ sfw. soft toji w/established relationship. fluff for a WIP. inspied because i wanted to enter @tsukimefuku's JK foodies and goodies.

mornings have become a fast favorite ever since you’ve turned his space into your home. he’s wrapped in a marigold comforter that feels lighter than air and softer than clouds. maybe he should invest in real cotton or bamboo fibers or whatever you were deliberating over. funnily enough, the same heavily fretted comforter is so viciously pulled off him by your sleeping form, he feels his chest fill with warmth, even in your sleep you’re no less eager to glue to his skin.

toji smiles soft as he watches you start to shift, it’s way too earlier for you to be up. it should be toji’s usual hour to head out for his leg day but he’s finding less and less reasons to leave you alone in the mornings. afterall, this is your third attempt to resettle in dreamland.

he’s used to it by now, the nights you don’t sleep dead like a log from grading assignments you’re rolling along his extra large california king sized bed. there’s nothing california sized about it since toji is relegated to his tiny slice as you roam free. exploring the vastness of comfort foam and some spring technolog that’s done wonders for toji’s back. but somehow it’s not giving the relief you need, body still bending and turning and stretching. damn, can he get you into those positions too? or is conscious you somehow less flexible than asleep you? he wonders if you dream of dancing, your arms and toes stretch, extend prettily like a ballerina

except your face scrunches when somehow you know you’ve drifted too far. legs swirl and sway to find him, body swimming into his side; when he’s close you breathe in deep, head bobbing under his arm, then on top and honestly, toji’s can’t keep watch. he’s knows you won’t get comfortable without his help, he pulls a leg up and over his hips, as the other snakes around on its own. and you’re so good for him, even in your sleep; easily laying your weight onto him, head nestled on his chest, the top of your head close enough to his lips.

he gently eases a few stray hairs from his mouth and out of your face and waits for the rhythmic deep breathing that lulls him back to his own rest. does he dream? if he does, they’re ones he has have been led by your soft breathing. maybe he dreams of a boat or a picnic, it’s all forgotten by the time he wakes up.

and he does, try his best, not to jolt awake when the sun is too annoying to ignore. he’s gotten better since sharing a bed with you, he doesn’t startle awake with violence. now it’s more of a quick jerky motion that’s soothed as soon as he touches your skin.

on autopilot he moves his hands but is met with his own skin? his own chest? he reaches out across the mattress to find it cold. like you’ve been missing for hours. despite all the logical reasoning, panic sets in. where are you? why aren’t you next to him? did you fall off again? he moves like a lion, sprawled over the edge of the bed but he’s met with his own discarded clothing.

head assessing the rest of the room and nada. you’re not in here.

he hears his expensive coffee machine whirl and exhales, falling flat onto the mattress. the sheets smell like you and that almond lotion you adore and he takes an extra deep inhale before getting up.

padding out to his walnut and cream kitchen, you’re moving about the giant island and following a video about — latte art?

he leans onto the island, takes in your form while you concentrate, practice how to move your wrists with an empty class and milk container. he takes the plate of french toast and his favorite fruit over to his dinning room table. another one of your purchases that breathes order into his abode. he’s never really eaten at a proper dinning table unless formally meeting a client at thei home but now he can’t seem to eat anywhere else. no more takeouts on the couch or coffee in the bedroom. you like eating together and that’s it for him.

he eats slowly, still watching you hum a song and repeat the latte art video. perhaps you’re a teacher now because you’re such a diligent student. but your eyes meet his and your voice is full of amber honey, “oh! good morning!”

bright, you’re so bright and walk ever so slowly. eyes moving between him and the mug of coffee? latte? that you gently gently gently place in front of him. it looks…like a circle. he tries to offer the best smile he can, “thanks sunshine.”

you look at him expectantly, “it’s a heart.”

he pulls you in for one kiss, then another and another before you push away with a pout. “it looks like a heart right?”

“whatever you say, doll. the circles a heart.” he’ll erase what a circle is if you deem. you wipe at some syrup on his lips and give the nape of his neck a small squeeze. attempt to make your way back to the big kitchen but he wants more of you, hands firm. he’s been robbed of his morning touches. hasn’t touched the skin of your back, hasn’t gripped your thighs and it’s part of his day off routine. he skipped leg day for cuddles and keeping you on his lap—why are you being so torturous and walking away?

you don’t even like lattes.

“we had a barista visit the school, they said i had a real talent for this and i should swing by his cafe. said he’d hire me on the spot now i think he was lying.” toji hums.

“yeah? he say that with dreamy eyes?”

you shoot him a look, he glares back, watches you replay the barista interaction and your hushed “toji, no.” has him laughing big.

“doll, i’d say anything to get you on a date too.”

“am ? that bad?” you’re bringing another mug over to him, moving at a snails pace but stop your face so focused on the mug that toji has to take pity on you. stomps over with his tall self and bends to look at the second attempt at the latte art.

“it’s a…rabbit?”

your shoulders drop and you click your tongue before taking a giant gulp, toji’s hand on your hip, thumb massaging gently. “i’m good for nothing.”

you’re being pouty and dramatic but the barista really had you believing you had a talent for this! “could’ve made more money on the weekend.” you sigh, toji moves the mug into the kitchen island, long strong arms pulling you close.

“you don’t need the money doll, i’ll buy whatever it is.”

“it’s not the money toji.” another sigh and toji doesn’t like it, has a hand under your chin, eyes serious. if its something on this green earth, he’ll bring to your feet. you just have to ask.

“thought i could work part time when you’re working your longer jobs, something to pass the time.” oh.

you get lonely.

toji pauses. he hasn’t felt lonely since…the day he met you. the time before he knew you feels like a fog. he wasn’t really living them, just getting through day by day. “sorry doll.”

you shake your head, pulling him close. it’s silent safe for your breathing and the angry expensive coffee machine whirling. when you do pull away from him he follows, hands lingering on your hip, makes you both waddle like a penguin and you can’t help but laugh.

it’s his favorite sound now, bounces off his spacious walls, fills the apartment with joy.

“teach me how.”

“toji—“

“you’re really good at teaching, so teach me how.” He grabs an empty mug, “and when i do a really good job, you’ll give me a reward.”

☕️

toji leaving the curtain open doesn’t usually happen, he’s super duper considerate of your schedule and knows sleeping in is a rare luxury given you’re a teacher and have to report to school earlier than most people expect. but he left the fucking curtain, blind AND window open. the gang of crows outside better be fighting a crazy battle because they have interrupted your sweet sweet dream. you and toji had robbed a bank and moved to a cold country. it was magical, you had a talking pet tiger.

you convince yourself robbing a bank is not a good idea and that you enjoy teaching rich spoiled kids because you’re being the emotional parental figure they need. you’re doing good in the world! you kick toji’s side of the bed, its so cold and that makes you grumpy. you wanted cuddles.

you’re as fresh as possible when you stumble into the kitchen. you made a many latte arts over the weekend and the despite toji working hard to put that caffeine to use, slept escaped you. your legs are sore, hips carrying the badge of his hands as you press the power button for the machine.

once the sleep is rubbed from your eyes you notice the steamer spout is dirty. you rush to wipe it clean, knowing that stupid part of the machine is the most sensitive and then you realize your mugs are all gone. you weren’t that hyped on caffeine, you cleaned everything diligently. you have a routine, part of it includes setting things up for tomorrow so that your mornings move as easily as possible.

it’s only when you turn around do you notice all seven of your mugs lined up in a row. all of them have latte art that spell out “i love u ♡”

and a huge wad of cash.

[digitalsnail]

a lil obsessed with her

[fufo-4]

when will my wife return from the war...

[thefingerfuckingfemalefury]

I like to imagine Dazzler is doing a medley of Elton John hits that have an X-men twist :D

[sillys-little-space]

Day 7: kidre (4-9)

[trueebeauty]

Hii i dont know if requests are open or not

If not then ignore! If open then can i request a fic or hcs about dating gitae? Thankk youu :)♡

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ notes ; hello! I take requests, and I would be happy enough to do yours! I did both a short fic and dating hc's! <33

𝐃𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐇𝐂'𝐒 : 𝐆𝐈𝐓𝐀𝐄 𝐊𝐈𝐌

𝖦𝖤𝖭𝖤𝖱𝖠𝖫 - regular, daily

» Gitae has absolutely no clue what it takes to be a decent boyfriend. Arguments are practically your national anthem, and he solves problems by ignoring tf out of you.

» Boyfriend Skills? Nonexistent. He's more like a grumpy roommate who occasionally throws money at you. (Hey, at least he pays the bills?)

» He may not communicate like a normal human, but he sure knows how to shower you with gifts.

» Physical affection? Never heard of it. If you try to snuggle up, prepare to be launched across the room like a ragdoll. (No judgment on how you interpret that.)

» Love Bites (Literally). Be prepared for black and blue marks – a badge of honor (or a cry for help, depending on your perspective).

» One minute he's a raging inferno, the next he's eerily silent. You never know what to expect, which is both terrifying and weirdly exhilarating.

» You're the brain, he's the brawn.

𝖲𝖥𝖶 - his soft side (?)

» Despite the chaos, Gitae somehow guarantees you a good night's sleep. 

» Hand-Holding Enthusiast. Okay, so he might grunt disapprovingly, but deep down, he kinda likes holding hands. It's the little things, right?

» Hair Play (on His Terms). Consider it a major victory if he lets you graze his hair. Don't get too grabby, though – he might just cut your fingers off.

» Your Personal ATM. This man's bank account is practically yours. 

» Gentle Giant (Ish)---not really. Believe it or not, he can be surprisingly sweet… around you, at least. (He won’t kill you, so that’s kind of sweet. Just don't test your luck.)

» He needs you.

𝖭𝖲𝖥𝖶 - not really nsfw ; only a little

» A whore. Let's Just Say He Earns His Nickname. AHEM. Moving on.

» Chivalry is definitely dead in the bedroom. 

» Makeouts? Those lips come with a price – be prepared for some serious bleeding (blood kink???)

» PDA? Not Exactly. He might sneak a grab here and there during meetings. Just channel your inner calmness (or give him a good whack – he secretly digs it).

» IS DEFINITELY A BIG BOY.

» Surprisingly Gentle (the First Time). Who knew the big, bad KOS could be such a softie… at least initially?

So, is he your dream man? Probably not. But hey, at least life with him is never boring! 

You could only breathe in deeply as you forced yourself not to break out into a scream. Under the polished mahogany table, a very familiar set of hands were grazing you – none other than Gitae's. They moved with practiced ease, sending shivers down your spine in a way that had nothing to do with the seriousness of the situation.

One of your members, was in mid-rant, laying out the latest intel on a rival gang. His voice boomed across the conference room, punctuated by the occasional slam of his fist on the table.  Every fiber of your being should have been focused on the intel, formulating your own response. But all you could manage was a glazed stare, your mind fixated on the subtle dance unfolding beneath the table.

Gitae's touch was infuriating. It was a blatant disregard for the seriousness of the meeting, a silent taunt that only you could understand. The barely noticeable smug smirk you knew played on his lips only fueled the fire. You yearned to reach over the table and slap it right off his face. The urge to retaliate, to prove you weren't some pushover, warred with the delicious tension building within you. Taking a steadying breath, you tried to refocus. "...ambush our shipment at the docks," he finished, glaring around the table for confirmation.

A chorus of gruff agreements filled the room, but you remained silent. You needed a distraction, something to break Gitae's hold on your attention.  Feigning deep consideration, you cleared your throat.  "-random name-," you started, your voice carefully measured.  "What about the informant we have planted in their operation?" The room quieted. You felt Gitae's touch falter for a moment, a flicker of surprise crossing your peripheral vision—a small victory.  You continued, detailing a plan that utilized the informant, successfully steering the conversation away from your current predicament. As he elaborated on your idea, a spark of approval glinted in his eyes.  Behind you, you felt a slight pressure under the table.  Was it a lingering caress or a silent apology?  

You couldn't be sure, but a small smile played on your lips.  Later, after the meeting, you'd have your chance to settle the score with Gitae.  And who knows, maybe you'd even give him a taste of his own medicine.