#hehe. <3

[kahvilahuhut]

i feel happy when you're close

summary: Felt like writing something really nice and "fluffy", and I've also been thinking a lot about them during their university time again. So have this: a nice 'morning', Toby waking up a bit late and enjoying the beginning of the day cuddling on the couch while Klara is planning a brunch. They're having a good time, something they really need <3

no warnings or anything.

---

Sunshine shone from the window, creating warm, light spots in the hallway. Klara's cat meowed quietly as she passed Tobias by, and sat down in one of the sunny spots, watching him yawn and fix the position of the shirt he wore open.

The cat meowed again.

Toby looked down and smiled. "Hey there," he murmured, and knelt down to scratch the cat's head. "Aren't you the cutest? Yes you are...Hang on," he opened the closed part of the bookshelf and took out the box full of cat treats, took one out, and reached his hand out for the cat to est the snack. "We'll keep this as our own little secret, right?"

The cat blinked slowly and padded away to the other sunny spot, and curled up there for another quick nap.

Tobias stood for a monent, looking at the bookshelf, wondering. At which point do you realize that someone's apartment has become too familiar? When you simply know where to find everything you need, or when you successfully remember about a somewhat sharp corner on a bookshelf and dodge it despite the drowsy feeling you always have after waking up?

He shook his head a bit and continued on his way to the living room.

Klara was laying on the couch, intensively staring at the screen of her phone, looking very excited about something. She closed the phone and gestured Tobias to join her.

Toby sat down on the couch next to her, "Hey, good morning."

"Heh, good morning to you too. Did you sleep well?"

"Mm-hmm," Tobias nodded and leaned closer for a kiss, slightly missing Klara's lips and kissing her cheek instead.

Klara cupped his face gently and kissed his forehead. "You're definitely not a morning person."

"Keen eyes you got there..." he murmured, leaning on her shoulder for a moment "Ugh. Sorry. Always feels like my brain is working slowly right after I wake up. You know, like the old computers."

"Well, a brain can be seen as a computer, in a way."

"You are sooooo right," he said, "wish mine was more like the one we used at that one research lab, though. That thing was so fast..."

"I think your head works exactly how it should, honey" Klara ran her fingers through his hair and asked, "What do you want to order for breakfast? Or, well, a brunch."

"Do you have that one yoghurt I found in your fridge in the beginning of the week. It was sooooo delicious, and is probably one of the only ones that hasn't caused any sensory issues for me. The, um, strawberry oat one, if I remember right?"

"It may take a while for that one to arrive. It's from my brother's farm. It's on the other side of the country."

"Ooooooh. That is so cool! As in, his own farm? Wow. But if that's the case, then..." Tobias paused for a moment and looked up at her before continueing, "...where are you ordering from?"

"From our favorite little cafe. They have a sale on all their warm drinks, by the way."

"Yeah!!! Then I'm definitely getting the caramel & cinnamon latte. Hmm...do you think it's too early for a piece of their carrot cake? Or no, wait, wait wait...that special breakfast bagel they make. Love that thing. Is it possible to ask them to leave the bacon out? I mean, I can take it out myself later if not, but it's usually possible when buying it at the cafe itself."

"I added it to the details. And I can order both of you want?"

"You are being too nice honestly. I'll pay-"

"Tobias, honey, you just bought a new laptop. Let me pay for this."

"But-"

"No 'buts" or anything. Anyway, anything else? Have you ever tried their apple juice?"

"Klara, c'mon..."

"I'll take two bottles for us both, then." She filled the order information, while petting Toby's head as he complained quietly how it's a bit too expensive and that she didn't have to pay for it fully and that he can get the table ready then. "Okay, they said that they'll get here in 30 minutes."

"Quite fast, to be honest. I thought there would be tons of people there coming for breakfast."

"I picked the faster delivery option. And also, it's 1 pm."

"Afternoon....oh my."

"What?"

"It feels...weird. To have someone do all these nice things for me. Buying me tasty food, letting me sleep for so long, caressing me lovingly and all. Taking care of me without waiting for anything in return."

"Right. It's usually you who's doing it for everyone else." Tobias tried to answer something, which instead turned into a sound Klara couldn't recognize into any word, either because he was simply humming or because his face was buried in her neck. "You're adorable." She felt his lips form a smile against her neck.

He moved a bit and said softly, the drowsiness in his voice almost gone yet still sound, "You know how you asked if I slept well?"

"Yeah?"

"I never answered properly. The answer is yes. At least the short one. You want a longer one?"

Klara chuckled. "Sure thing."

"I have noticed that sleeping with you makes me fall asleep much faster than I usually do. And I have less bad dreams, I think. And don't wake up in the middle of the night as often as I did. And how can I forget, definitely fixed my sleeping schedule," he sighed quietly, "I love you so much, you know. I feel so happy when you're close, when I can just sit near you and hold your hand."

"I love you too, Sunshine."

Tobias smiled and laid still for a moment. "By the way... what did you order?"

"Well, you'll see in-," she checked her phone screen, "-fifteen minutes."

"No spoilers? Heh, okay then... Mind if I take some fries of yours?"

"How did you-"

"You order them very often."

[loving-jack-kelly]

can i get uhhhh 3 and 14. if u please/dare. -@jack-kellys

3: screenshot or description of the worst take you've seen on tumblr i don't have screenshots but does anybody else remember the republican newsies blog from like 2017 or 18? i don't even remember the URL but they kept posting takes about how newsies is about modern republican value and posting headcanons about the characters being republicans. made me giggle because it's a show about unions, workers' rights, and class disparity in a decidedly un-republican way but okay i guess. also that one time that person was like "calling Pulitzer a villain is wrong because he was a real person" as if we aren't talking about the fictional version of him who explicitly is aware of and continues to choose to enact suffering and starvation on the children working for him. lmao.

14: that one thing you see in fics all the time I'm sorry for the people who do it and like it and i used to do it too but the phonetic accents in fics. goils instead of girls. da instead of the. i am All For accents being present but you can just mention that the character has an accent without making me try to figure out what you mean by adding ten extra vowels and changing the consonants of a word. sorry.

also if we're talking characters. pushing crutchie aside in favor of making race jack's closest confidant (they can both be close with jack but c'mon.) sidelining crutchie in general. the general abelism of the way crutchie is perceived and therefore written by a good handful of people.

[acritudos]

𝐋𝐎𝐂𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐃         ›         a   decidedly   off   limits   area,   malfoy   manor. 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐒         ›         closed,   to   pansy   parkinson.

call   it   what   it   is         —         artful,   unscrupulous   spellwork   aided   by   a   significant   amount   of      corporate   flirting.      champagne   on   silver   tongue   and   well   -   timed   furrow   of   brows,   carefully   -   posed   questions   as   airy   as   the      bubbles      that   burst   along   the   back   of   his   throat      (   …   )      it   takes   a   record   time,   really,   to   coax   out   an   answer   as   to   how   to   work   a   hole   in   the   stringent   defenses   the   malfoys   have   tried   so      fruitlessly      to   enforce.      (      what’s   the   worst   they’ll   do,   anyway      ?      his   apologies   will   come   in   the   form   of   shiny   trinkets,   eyewateringly   expensive   bottles   of   scotch,   a   favour   pulled   to   keep   their   darling   boy   out   of      vulpine   scrutiny      when   he   inevitably   needs   it.   the   world   will   always   turn   on   party   tricks   like   that,   nudges   in   vulnerable   sides   and   oaths   sworn,   kept   tucked   away   to   be   called   on   when   needed   most.      oh,   to   be   so   well   -   versed   in   the   ways   of   this   world   !      )         expensive   bottle   hangs,   lazy,   in   loose   grip   from   where   he   sprawls   across   a   velvet   loveseat      ;      limbs   will   shift   only   when   his   gaze   drags      up,   up,   up.         “         you   look   stunning,   if   i   haven’t   already   told   you.         ”         he   will   subconsciously   mirror   her   movements,   drape   himself   in   the   faintest   replica   of   her   own   posture.         (      hasn’t   he   always      ?      isn’t   he   doomed   to      ?         )

[gordiicore]

[moechies]

“shit, this pussy’s damn tight, girl.” toji chuckles, leaned against the wooden headboard of his mattress, with your pretty cunt impaled on his dick. you’re sat upon the man’s lap, back slumped into his bigger body as he lifts your legs to your chest with a singular arm.

“hnn—! thank y-you, thank you, thank you !” you slur, holding onto the man’s bigger arm for leverage as he pumps his cock against your cunt, your round butt slapping against his pelvis.

“tch,” he smirks, “thank you? haven’t heard that one b’fore.” his thrusts come to a slow, leaving you breathless and dazed. you lay back against the man’s chest as he continues lazy but brutal pumps to your poor cunt, pushing against him in an attempt to get him to slow.

“hnn.. ‘m sorry..” you cry out, embarrassed, face growing flushed as your nose scrunches at the memory of a few seconds prior.

toji can’t help but fall into a short fit of laughing at your adorable innocence, soft lips curled into a mean smirk, “‘s alright, sweet thing. yer so polite, hm?” he taunts, pressing a weighted kiss against your lips. you slip your tongue against his before you lose the chance, pressing your face closer to the man’s touch.

“y’take cock like a naughty brat, though.” he whispers in between a breath.

his sloppy tongue overrules yours, slowly but surely swallowing you whole. he peeks through a sliver of his eye, watching you pant into his mouth with your eyes squeezed tight, drool leaking down your chin, so entirety focused on kissing him back. “toji—“ you mewl.

“ya started it,” he mumbles against your swollen lips, giving your cunt a soft slap. you jerk and cry against his hold, pushing the said assaulting hand away, making him giggle. “what a dumb little thing.”

“please ! ‘m gonna c-cum! toji, please, please—“ you cry as his thrusts get harder, pace becomes sloppier, before it all comes to an abrupt stop.

your pants slow, gentle mewls that leave your lips as you begin to fall into a fit of sobs. “no..” toji breaks a grin, petting against your hair whispering sweet praises, “‘m sorry doll, daddy’s tired. let me have a break, yeah?” he adores how you look up to him with bleary eyes, chest full of pained hiccups as you attempt to bounce yourself atop his cock in your position. “..w-wanna cum!”

“don’t be so selfish, sweet thing. ‘m old, ‘s what ya get for hangin’ around me.” he lies through his teeth. pace slowly resuming. his creamy, slicked up cock causes his thrusts to grow in noise, face flushing at the evidence of the use of your poor cunt.

“daddy —!”

“shhh, settle down and let daddy focus, yeah?” he mumbles breathlessly against the shell of your ear, “or else daddy might get too tired.. and won’t be able to finish ya off.” he sighs.

[theoldkyokodied]

Really quick doodles of a few scenes from the stream yesterday. Including combat flirting taunting, gale’s magnificently distracting shoes and.. whatever you wanna call gale agreeing to give 15 gold to astarion 😐😑���😑😐 (that’s me blinking)

[punkitt-is-here]

the gang gets snacks

[panthermouthh]

“Accursed creator! Why did you form a monster so hideous that even you turned from me in disgust?”

[rocktheholygrail]

Mads Mikkelsen, Hugh Dancy, and Laurence Fishburne - Hannibal behind the scenes

[verawhisk]

You are safe. The winds of fate blow you to the warmest of hearths in the most cordial of inns. The touch of the sun comforts your flesh, but never burns it.

my commissions are closed, but you can still look at my prices here!

[drgnflyteabox]

can't get much better

pairing: ghost / simon riley x fem reader summary: simon is forced to take some time off - he makes the most of it. tags/warnings: very soft, pregnant sex, size difference, softdom!simon- he's a masculine man who doesn't let his lady lift a finger :'), oral (f), one (1) butthole kiss, dacryphilia, daddy kink (sigh), minor minor foot stuff, allusions to injuries and chronic pain, title from an adrianne lenker song w.c: 2.5k

You try very hard not to think about it, but it's hard not to notice how massive he is.

Even shirtless, he somehow looks bigger, muscles flush with heat and exertion under the sun. He toils and breathes hard like an ox, working while you sit on the porch wrapped in his big flannel. Wearing his clothes is like being swaddled in a blanket straight out of the dryer, warm and nostalgic and syrupy with love. It leaves you feeling some type of tender. You're afraid of that feeling sometimes, of how soft it is and how soft it makes you. He could ask anything of you, and you'd yield like he was pressing his thumb into a bruised peach.

You have.

"How are you two?" Simon is so quiet when he wants to be. One would think he'd clomp like a horse with how big he is, but he can float like dust. It used to startle you, but you've been sinking deeper into the memory foam mattress of this life with him and it doesn't anymore.

"Tired, even though I'm not doing anything," you squint at him through the late afternoon sun. It haloes him like an angel.

"You're growing my baby in there, love. That's not nothing," his voice is rough, it always will be. But it's rough now like earth and soil rather than rough with pain and smoke the way he'd sounded when you met him.

You're feeling especially nostalgic, it seems, not like it's hard here. His hand is warm on your belly.

"I guess so," you let him pet you for a moment. Your stomach is swollen but not as big as it'll get, just enough to veto pants. A few months to go still. "How's your back?"

"Argh," Simon says, taking a heavy seat next to you. Dismissive and yet he groans a little when his muscles unclench. Classic.

You slowly reach up and nudge him until he's facing the field opposite to you, face toward the golden afternoon sun and his back to you. He's never asked you to do this, to take care of him, but it's your favourite thing in the world.

His back is always rock-hard no matter how many times you take your knuckles and fingers to it. Just a condition of a hard life lived for him, countless falls and impacts and pushing through injuries. There's a slight slant to his spine now that isn't there in the pictures he's shown you of his youth, but the stiffness is the same. You might've said he was born to be a soldier, had you not known him as a father. He could do both, but - you'd never say this out loud - you were privately grateful for this injury. It wouldn't take him out forever, but the recovery would be long. Long enough to get the homestead started, to get you pregnant.

Simon would never be completely still. This was compromise. Sweet compromise, a life started and time with him you could think back on the next time he shipped out. Making the most of things, he would always say. Making the time count.

"That feels good, love" he groans. Bending forward slowly, relaxing, he's like an aloof stallion finally accepting an apple from your hand. Acquiescing. Showing you his back. It's trust, and you savour it.

"I bet it does," you tease back, just a little. Your fingers are nimble and attuned to his specific aches and pains. "Are you hungry for dinner?"

"I'm hungry for something," he turns, slowly, hands reaching for your thickened waist. Huge, work-roughened hands. War-roughened hands, holding you like a delicate egg. Sometimes it feels like he's the only thing that holds you together; all your pieces, everywhere, until he's holding you.

Kissing him is a contact sport. It's his hands moving, cupping your breast and then your pussy through your panties, your own hands wrapping around his broad shoulders like he's the only thing keeping you from drowning. It's open-mouthed, breathing into each other. Impossibly, you get softer, melting like ice on a hot day. 

Before you can lean back on the bench, he stands and lifts you with him. He's still hot from the day, damp with sweat, pushing you into the house while kissing you still.

"Simon-" you start, with no goal in mind. "Please."

"I've got you, love," he murmurs. He always does. Before you know it, you're laid back onto the plush armchair in your living room. Simon knows this is the most comfortable place for your newly-aching body. Affection swells in your chest uncontrollably and comes out through your eyes leaking down your face. Sure, pregnancy makes people emotional - but you're still embarrassed, touched by how considerate he is.

"It's alright, shh," he thumbs the tears at the corner of your eyes. His cock tents his work pants, aroused by them. "Let me take care of you."

The next words he murmurs are into your cunt, right over your panties, tongue laving over the already-wet fabric. "Just need your daddy, don't you?" You clench in tandem with his words, hot all over, skin prickling. He pushes your dress up, bunching it right under your tits.

It's reminiscent of how you spent the first night with him, on the very first day you'd met. Hurried, his big head between your thighs and clothes hanging off you still while he made you fall apart.

He's fucking good at it, too. Pulls your panties to the side and builds up the pressure with which he sucks on your clit, softly and then harsher until you shake. You've been extra horny lately, always wet around him and always so swollen. The scrape of his five-o-clock shadow against the sensitive skin of your inner thigh is what tips you over, clamping his head tightly and shouting your orgasm into the heady summer air.

"That all it takes?" Simon grins, chin wet, fingers moving from your hips to your pussy to gently rub along your slit.

"Give me a second, please," it's humbling how quickly you come nowadays. Quick and intense. Fireworks.

You set your foot on his shoulder and he turns towards it, kissing your ankle. Patience is rare with him, something come about only since you confirmed your pregnancy. You miss being overwhelmed by him, miss the nights where he'd guide you over the edge one, two, three times in succession.

He pushes now, just a little, not waiting for your go-ahead but watching you intently. His fingers spread your cunt in a V and he puffs a breath on your sensitive clit. You jump. He grins again, leaning down to lick you, using one hand to hold both your legs under your knees and push them until they meet the soft bump of your belly.

"Hold them there," he says. It's spoken not to you, but to your hole, which he spears his tongue into. You obey as you're helpless to do, holding your legs up and giving him an unimpeded view. It's more than vulnerable, it's not only baring yourself to him completely but giving him the authority to do what he wants. What you need.

Simon eats you out like it's a kiss, slurping you down and letting you leak until the evidence of your weakness to him is all over you. Your legs are wet, and it drips down onto your other hole. He pushes a thumb into your cunt, dipping it in and out.

"Needed me, did'ya? Watched me all day," he's so smug, sometimes. His lips find your bare foot, kissing your sole. "Been wet like this all day?" His other hand finds the meat of your asscheek, spreading you open further, letting the split of you open to him. He leans down, kissing your inner thigh, then your other hole. You whine and clench your pussy around his thumb. 

"So needy," he murmurs, finally finally moving back to your clit. Flicks his tongue over it, something that might've been teasing before but is intense now. Your hands tighten against your legs, head thrown back.

"Oh please- Simon!" You shout again, abs drawing up, stars in your eyes. "Ahh- I'm-"

"I know, honey," his lips suction again around the hard little pebble of your clit, eating like a man starved. 

This is how he likes you. Losing control, coming apart, helplessly vocal against the onslaught of his tongue. No matter how many times you've done this, it never gets old. The release almost always makes you cry, especially intense like this. You're wet all over, face and cunt and legs. He is, too.

"You still with me, love?" He pets your flank like you're a horse.

"Yes," but that's not what he wants.

"Yes what?"

"Yes, daddy."

"Good girl," and fuck if that doesn't always fill you with warm fuzzy energy. Wipes your brain, keeps you soft and floaty.

He guides you up and out of the armchair, lifts you into his arms when your legs shake too much. That electric feeling is still coursing through you, tingles in your extremities as they come back to life.

The hand he strokes over you is half affectionate, half proprietary. You've been his since the first time he laid eyes on you.

He reminds you of it as he sets you down gently on the bed, your hair a halo around your head and hands reaching to his face where you pull him down for a kiss. Hands find his shirt, pulling it off you, and then the dress. Fingertips touch the headboard, your arms stretching up, making room for him. Slips your panties down your legs.

It's a lingering, indulgent kiss. Breathing each others air, gasping into his mouth, he puts his elbows by your head and lays as much weight down as he can without cramping your full belly. He's as vocal as you, groaning and rutting like a dog.

"Ready for me, sweet girl?" He leans out of the kiss, sitting back on his heels. You nod, desperate and pulsing between the legs again like you didn't just come twice.

"Daddy's gonna take care of you, don't you worry," he rearranges you like a doll, turning you to your side and getting between your legs. A pillow is tucked under your belly, and he tests your flexibility by holding your leg tight to the length of his body. Your hamstring burns a little with it.

A hand holds your knee, another to your waist. His jeans scrape against your sensitive skin.

You focus on little details. His scar, touching his eyebrow and splitting through his nose, ending down by his jaw. The knuckles on his fingers holding your knee, and how rough the pads of his fingers feel on your waist. This man has never had soft hands in his life. Those same hands capable of so much force, so much violence, the very same that hold you and guide you. A shepherd, you his lamb.

The weeping head of his cock kisses your hole, catching there and traveling up. He taps it against your clit until you're tensing, whining, needy again. Tears down your cheeks.

He steadies you, pets your waist, guides his cock inside and it feels like you can breathe again. His mouth laves hot kisses over your ankle, the sole of your foot again, reverent and controlling all at once. The stretch burns - it always does, and maybe always will. Simon is just so big, thick all around and the mushroom head of him could always bump your cervix if he's not careful.

He's careful now, but only just. You can sense his control fraying, his hips driving forward steadily but his thighs tensing and his grip getting meaner. This is your favourite part. Watching him sweat, breathe hard, taking his pleasure in you.

"Yeah-" he cuts himself off with a long, drawn out groan. Deep, from the bottom of his belly and out. "Already so full of me, aren't ya? Can't get full enough."

You plead with your sounds, words out of your grasp. Your hands clutch at the sheets but it isn't enough. He's solid, he's your anchor, but he's losing himself in your cunt and you're free falling.

"Play with your tits for me," he commands, pumping faster. You're reflexively tightening around him, clit jumping for attention, squeaking each time he lets himself in as deep as possible and touches the mouth of your cervix.

Sunlight slowly fades on the bed, the last golden rays escaping out the window as you're bathed in dusk. 

There's nothing to do but obey, hands finding your swollen breasts and squeezing. They've been sore and huge, like that week before you get your period only it's been a couple months. None of your bras fit anymore.

Simon appreciates it, he loves it. Has you cooking for him with your tits out, nipples peaked and pussy leaking. They bounce, now, stopped only by your hands pinching and twisting. It's insane - no one in the world could replicate the feeling. No artist, no musician. Electricity zips from your breasts down to your clit and shit - you might come just like this, untouched, just full of your man and fondling yourself.

"Fuck, I can feel you squeezing me. Fucking," he pants, leaning over you, bending your leg. "Pinching my dick, sweetheart. Your pussy's so fucking good."

The orgasm begins in your toes, tingling. Your muscles tighten, drawing up, up, towards your cunt, which is making obscene sounds around him.

Simon sees the signs, sees your eyes rolling and your body going taut. He abandons your leg in favour of rubbing your clit with two big fingers quickly, up and down.

"That's it, sweetheart, come all over my cock. Go on," his voice is a snarl, barely distinguishable as human, beastly. "Be good for daddy.”

It's like the crescendo of an orchestra, like a summer afternoon in august, like waking up without a clogged nose after being sick, it's - really fucking good. You're near sobbing, crying out his name, abandoning your tits to reach for him desperately. He meets you halfway, shuddering his own orgasm into you. The press of his hips against yours is better than buttered toast, the delicate press of his chest against yours as he lets your leg go is bliss.

"Si-imon," you slur, hands on his cheeks. He laughs and kisses your forehead.

"What's that, sweet girl?"

"I love you," you cry a little more then, feeling him pull out and lay next to you. You're boneless.

"I love you too," his arm reaches across you, pulling you into him. "Both of you." Hand on your belly again.

"That was insane," you pant. He barks a laugh against your hair. "I'm serious."

"I know you are, love," he kisses your forehead, petting your stomach. You can tell it's meaning, can feel the gratefulness behind the kiss. He's saying thank you, for staying with him, for making him a father. Your hand finds his, squeezing back a wordless reply. Of course, it says.

<3

[slumpsnail]

Gale sketches for my next render, I might try a new paint style and will definitely add more details later.

Lately, I’ve been thinking about Gale as a necromancer, who's body is rotting from the orb and only keeping his appearance up with the Weave. My inspo is from the Sandman comics, @/GarnetDawn's rendition of Gale's arcane hunger, and Eternals from Divinity.

[arinmoss]

nother Astarion wip i thought i wouldve finished by now alksfjasf

[triona-tribblescore]

Liked this little warm-up doodle, drawing him peeved is kinda fun 😔✨(this was on his 15 min break)

[ahyuggg]

Aventurine’s banner 🎲♠️

(good luck to all aventurine wanters!!🍀)

[dvrknessabides]

Portland Oregon, spring 2024