#warmth and affection

[aventurineswife]

can I request Aventurine x f!reader if they had a teenage daughter

The Best Investment

Summary: In a cozy evening at home, you and Aventurine enjoy a quiet moment with your teenage daughter, Airi, who has inherited her father’s cleverness and curiosity. Aventurine listens attentively as Airi discusses her school project, showing a side of patience and warmth he reserves only for family. After she leaves, he reflects on the life you've both built, sharing a quiet, proud moment with you.

Tags: Dad!Aventurine x Mom(Female)!Reader, Family fluff, Domestic life, Soft Aventurine, Parent-child bond, Intimate romance, Warmth and Affection.

Warnings: Mild Romantic Intimacy, daughter is named Airi but you can change it to your liking.

In the quiet ambiance of your home, you sit in the living room, cozy in a thick blanket as you watch your teenage daughter, Airi, animatedly explain her latest school project to Aventurine. He leans back in his seat, an indulgent smile playing on his lips, his eyes catching every gesture and word. He may be a brilliant strategist and a high-stakes risk-taker, but when it comes to Airi, he’s always attentive, supportive, and—most of all—patient.

She has his cleverness, that spark of curiosity mixed with a touch of rebelliousness, and you've often laughed, whispering that Airi is indeed her father’s daughter. You still remember his stunned expression when you first shared the news of your pregnancy, followed by the fierce determination in his eyes as he promised he’d always be there for you both. It was a vulnerable side of Aventurine few ever saw, but one that you cherish.

“Dad,” Airi says, holding up a small drawing she made for her project. “I’m going to need supplies, maybe some paints. Could we go to the art shop together?”

Aventurine’s eyes soften as he looks at her. “Of course, but I expect you to use those paints wisely,” he teases, raising a playful brow. “Art is an investment, after all.”

“Right.” she smirks, clearly used to his way of making everything a metaphor for investment and strategy. You chuckle, shaking your head, as Airi rolls her eyes, but both of them share a little smile.

After a while, as she heads off to her room, Aventurine leans back on the sofa beside you, slipping an arm around your shoulders and pulling you close. "We've done well, haven’t we?" he murmurs, his voice laced with pride and warmth.

You smile, resting your head on his shoulder. “She’s amazing. And she gets a lot of that from you.” you reply, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. He chuckles softly, almost as if he doesn't quite believe it, but the way he watches Airi’s bedroom door confirms he’s aware of just how deeply she’s impacted his life.

He shifts, turning to face you, that familiar smile playing on his lips. “I think the best investments I’ve made are in this family.” he admits quietly. In these moments, there’s no need for his elaborate words or his showy charm; it’s just you, him, and the life you’ve built together.

There’s something magical in that simplicity—a warmth that envelops you, solid and steady like the foundation he’s helped create.

As Aventurine’s hand slips down to rest at your waist, he leans closer, his voice dropping to a lower, softer tone. "Though… I can think of a few investments that deserve a bit more attention," he murmurs, his warm breath brushing against your ear.

A playful glint appears in his eyes, and his fingers lightly trace circles against your hip, igniting a spark in the small, quiet space between you. The look he gives you is full of unspoken promises, his usual confidence simmering into something a touch more intimate.

You raise an eyebrow, teasing back, "Shouldn’t you be planning Airi’s little art outing?"

“A perfectly good reason to call it an early night,” he replies smoothly, the corners of his lips turning up as he pulls you closer, his thumb brushing your jawline. “Besides, we’ve still got time before she even thinks about going to bed.”

His words linger, and the atmosphere between you both shifts, the ordinary evening melting into a private, stolen moment. His eyes catch yours, and without another word, he closes the distance, his kiss slow and lingering, as if savoring every second.

And for a moment, it’s just the two of you, your world quiet and close, wrapped up in that shared warmth as his touch grows bolder.

[qaanngi]

Hapee seasonal 🎄

[rafeyssugar]

daddy’s paradise

daddy!rafe x baby!reader

the sun hung high in the sky, painting the ocean in endless shades of blue. waves lapped gently at the shore, palm trees swayed in the breeze, and the heat settled thick and heavy over everything.

perfection.

except—

y/n was pouting.

rafe had given her everything. first-class flight. five-star resort. a private island with no one else around, just her and him. she had a suitcase full of bikinis that barely counted as clothing, a villa bigger than most mansions, and an infinity pool that overlooked the ocean.

and yet—

she still wanted more.

"what now, princess?" rafe sighed, lounging back on the chair. his swim trunks hung low on his hips, muscles golden from the sun, a glass of whiskey in his hand. unbothered. or at least, he was trying to be.

y/n stood at the edge of the pool, her arms crossed, lips pushed into a perfect little pout. she knew exactly what she was doing.

because that bikini?

it was pink, tiny, and practically invisible.

two pathetic little triangles covered her chest, tied together with thin strings that looked like they could snap at any second. the matching bottoms were even worse. just strings and a scrap of fabric that did absolutely nothing.

rafe had been staring for the past twenty minutes, trying not to lose his mind.

"you’re ignoring me," she whined, tilting her head. her voice was honey-sweet, all soft and needy.

rafe exhaled sharply. fuck.

"am i?"

"yes." she pouted harder. "i’ve been so good, daddy. don’t i deserve attention?"

his jaw flexed. "princess, we are literally on a private island because you batted your lashes at me and said, ‘but daddy, i wanna go somewhere pretty.’ and now you’re telling me that’s not enough?"

y/n blinked up at him. "no," she said sweetly.

rafe dragged a hand down his face, trying so hard not to look at the way her chest pushed against those tiny pink strings.

"of course not."

she kicked her feet in the water, making little splashes. "daddyyy."

"princess."

"don’t you love me anymore?" she whispered, eyes big and glassy.

rafe groaned, gripping his glass tighter.

she was gonna kill him.

"y/n—"

"because," she interrupted, voice soft, "you don’t even wanna swim with me…"

he clenched his jaw. she was playing with him. she knew exactly what she was doing, standing there in that barely-there bikini, pouting up at him like he hadn’t been staring at her chest this whole time.

"you could just ask nicely," he muttered.

"i did," she gasped. "so nicely. and you ignored me, daddy. you made me sad."

jesus christ.

she was a menace.

water droplets clung to her skin, her cheeks warm from the sun, and rafe was barely holding it together.

y/n was spoiled, impossible, completely irresistible.

and she knew it.

rafe exhaled sharply, setting his drink down. "fine."

she beamed as he stood, towering over her before stepping into the pool.

and the second he was in?

she was on him.

arms wrapping around his neck. legs locking around his waist. her tiny bikini-clad body pressing against him, all warm and soft and fucking perfect.

"hi, daddy," she whispered, grinning.

rafe ran a hand down his face. "jesus christ."

she giggled, nuzzling into his neck. "love you."

"you better," he muttered, gripping her hips. "you just dragged me in here like i’m your personal floatie."

she pulled back, giving him her sweetest doe-eyed look. "but you are."

rafe groaned, gripping her tighter. "ruined. i am ruined."

y/n just smiled, pressing a kiss to his jaw. "mm. yeah, you are."

[skunkes]

poor circulation

[random-dragon-exe]

Dev.exe has stopped working.

[life-imitates-art-far-more]

Henri-Guillaume Schlesinger (1814-1893) "Young Peasant Couple" (1845) Oil on cardboard Currently in a private collection

[cent-scratchnsniff]

doodles and stuff. struggled with painting until i gave up

[ingravinoveritas]

Absolutely loving this cozy and soft holiday-themed Michael/David fanart from @gladia-delmarre.

[souenkun]

Takashi living the warm, full-of-love life that reiko couldn't have (as far as we know in the current canon) feels very much like the grief that dawns for children when they finally realized how much sacrifice their parents didn't always tell them just to give birth and raise them.

Like, technically speaking, reiko only gave takashi a world of problems by passing down the sight and the book of friends decades after her death, but takashi also grasped the wholesome and the awful parts of interacting with both humans and youkai from the memories she had left behind, scattered among all these eternal monsters she had defeated, leaving in them unintentional, but important life lessons for him to find later on in the future. If it weren't for all those societal rejections that reiko received from humans and the hardships from youkai that led her to start the book of friends, takashi wouldn't be able to avoid repeating her mistakes (and, consequently, could be just as comfortable with isolation like reiko was), let alone make the precious balance we now see him have in the present time, where he can make genuine connections with humans and youkai while also maintaining a balance to them. Do you get what I'm saying 💔

[handweavers]

when someone has it drilled in their head from childhood that they are a black sheep and an island and cannot trust anyone in the family other than their sibling and parents, that no one else will truly be there for them or love them as they deserve to be loved, trying to be the first one in the family to break through that and love them well and be someone they can trust is an uphill and thankless battle but it's worth it because i love them and i know they love me. "please let me lance that wound and clean it or it'll kill you" but they have to give me permission to do it and keep choosing to give me that permission. for both our sakes, because we need each other and cannot afford to not have each other. but these things cannot be forced. you cannot save people you can only love them. and so on and so forth

[musubiki]

limochi rkgk

[yes-no-maybe-soo]

This is so sweet omg 💘 Sylus is such a loverboy... MC is so adorable.... auughh (not ashamed to admit I already got tears in my eyes dhdjfj 😭 please they are so precious to me I'm quite literally incapable of being normal about them atp)

[mellosdrawings]

OOOOOO CAN I ASK HOW WOULD THE N2 SQUAD REACT TO EACH OF THEM DYING?

What have you unleashed?

(WARNING: Angst, allusions to death, all that fun stuff. Nothing graphic tho, don't worry)

Jamil

He shouldn’t be surprised.

Well… He isn't surprised. Jamil Viper doesn't get nice things. Not for more than a few months, anyway.

Every once in a while, life takes pity on him and throws some nice, agreeable news his way. Just enough so that he lets his guard down. Just enough so that he allows himself to think maybe things will get better. Just enough so that he can pretend he isn't chained to a fate he will never escape.

A letter to NRC, a plan that goes a little too well, a couple of upperclassmen who seem to genuinely love him for who he is and not who he pretends to be.

So of course it doesn't last. Life gives and life takes.

Kalim follows, Octavinelle gets involved, Leona and Vil-

Well…

He isn't surprised.

Jamil Viper doesn't get nice things.

Vil

They look at him like they expect something from him. Horror, anger, ugly tears maybe. Just a reaction. Anything. Anything at all.

Vil doesn't give them that. Doesn't give them an opportunity to pity him. Doesn't give them food for gossip. Doesn't give them any material to make this topic last for any longer than it has to.

He knows how it works. Someone snaps a pic of him at his lowest, someone records his voice breaking during an interview, someone catches his lips tremble for but a second, and everybody will start talking about it again. And again. And again. For as long as there is a reaction from him. For as long as the topic attracts views.

Suffering brings more views than success.

So Vil doesn't react. Doesn't say a thing. Doesn't acknowledge the topic.

Better to be a cold asshole for a few weeks than to hear about it for years.

And in the darkness of his own room, where there is no camera, no eyes, and no ears to witness his grief-

Vil cries himself to sleep.

Leona

It’s just sand.

Only sand.

For miles and miles, further than the eye can see, nothing but sand.

Ruggie had the clever foresight to send all of Savanaclaw packing when Leona got the news. They would be sand too otherwise.

Who cares.

Who fucking cares.

He could turn the whole world to sand and it wouldn't be enough.

He might as well turn his own heart into sand.

It would hurt less.

[rafeyssugar]

happy graduation, baby.

bsfs dad!rafe x baby!reader

the gym is packed, buzzing with excitement, but she feels like she might throw up.

she’s never liked being the center of attention, never liked speaking in front of crowds. but she earned this. valedictorian.

her hands shake as she grips the edges of her speech, her heart hammering in her chest. under her pink gown, the white bandeau dress clings to her body a little too tight, a little too short. she shifts, self-conscious, and turns to the girl beside her.

rafe’s daughter. her best friend.

“i think i’m gonna pass out,” she whispers, voice small.

her best friend flashes a grin. “you’re gonna kill it.”

a pause. then she adds, “and if you don’t, at least you look hot.”

she laughs, breathless, trying to calm the nerves. and then—

her name is called.

she stands, legs shaky, pink cap slipping slightly. her heels click against the stage with every step, each one echoing louder than the last. the speech crumples in her grip, but she adjusts the microphone, inhales slowly, trying to steady herself.

and then she looks out into the crowd.

he’s there.

front row. black suit. legs spread, one arm casually draped over the chair beside him. his gaze locks on hers—sharp, steady, unblinking. there's a subtle smirk playing at the edge of his lips, as if he’s just waiting for her to mess up.

but he doesn’t make her feel small. instead, it’s the opposite. it’s like he’s daring her to be better, to rise to the challenge.

rafe nods once, slow, like a silent signal.

“breathe, baby.”

so she does.

she exhales. then she speaks.

“we made it.���

laughter ripples through the crowd, tension lifting just slightly.

“after countless late nights, impossible exams, and more breakdowns than we’d probably like to admit, we’re here. standing on the edge of something new. and that’s terrifying, isn’t it? because for years, this was our world. these halls, these classrooms, these people. and now, we’re stepping into the unknown.”

a breath. a slight pause for dramatic effect.

“but if there’s one thing i’ve learned, it’s that we don’t have to do it alone. because no matter where we go next, we take the memories with us. the friendships, the lessons, the moments that shaped us.”

she swallows, looking down for a second to collect herself before continuing.

“we take the people who showed up. the ones who believed in us when we didn’t believe in ourselves. the ones who pushed us, supported us, reminded us that we are capable of more than we think.”

her eyes scan the crowd again, landing on him.

“so to our teachers, our mentors, our families, and our friends—thank you. for standing by us, for guiding us, for loving us.”

a beat.

“and to my classmates—this isn’t just the end. it’s the beginning. we are stepping into our futures, ready or not. but i believe in us. i believe in the strength, the resilience, the fire that brought us here.”

she pauses, her chest tight. the room is quiet, expectant.

“so let’s go out there and show the world what we can do.”

the gym erupts. cheers, applause, the stomping of feet.

but she only hears one voice.

rafe’s.

he’s standing, clapping louder than anyone else, whistling through his fingers, smirking like he knew she had it in her all along.

her face burns. she looks down quickly, tugging at her gown, shuffling back to her seat.

her best friend elbows her. “knew you’d kill it.”

she ducks her head, hiding her smile. “shut up.”

but she’s smiling. and she doesn’t even care if anyone sees.

after the ceremony, the crowd spills out into the courtyard, laughter and chatter filling the warm evening air. everyone is hugging, taking pictures, throwing their caps in the air.

she barely has time to process it all before she hears that voice.

“there’s my girl.”

her heart skips a beat.

she turns, and there he is. rafe.

black suit. top buttons undone, sleeves rolled up to reveal strong, defined forearms. smirking like he owns the place, just like always.

his daughter is beside him, grinning ear to ear. “you were so good up there,” she says, nudging her.

“thanks,” she says, voice barely above a whisper.

but rafe doesn’t let her off the hook that easily. he steps closer, leaning down to look at her, his eyes studying her like he’s memorizing every detail.

“proud of you, baby,” he murmurs, voice thick with something she can’t quite place.

the words hit her harder than she expected. deeper than they should. she swallows, blinking quickly, trying to regain her composure.

“thank you… for coming.”

he smirks, the kind of smile that makes her heart race. “wouldn’t miss it.”

his eyes flicker over her, slow, lingering. she shifts under his gaze, suddenly aware of how tight the dress feels, how exposed she is. heat rises to her cheeks, and he notices. of course he does. but he doesn’t say anything, just leans in, lips brushing the shell of her ear.

“got a surprise for you, princess.”

her breath catches. “w-what?”

he pulls back, nodding towards the parking lot.

his daughter grabs her hand. “come on, come on, you’re gonna love this.”

they lead her outside, where a small crowd has gathered. her best friend is already filming, phone raised.

and then she sees it.

a pink g-wagon.

her pink g-wagon.

a red bow sits on top, gleaming under the streetlights.

she freezes, her hands trembling.

“rafe—”

“it’s yours, baby.”

her hands fly to her mouth. “no. no way. this is too much—”

he chuckles. “not for my girl.”

her chest tightens at the words. his girl.

she throws herself at him, arms wrapping around his neck. he catches her easily, big hands gripping her waist, holding her up like she weighs nothing.

“i love it,” she whispers, her voice thick with emotion. “i love you.”

his fingers tighten just slightly, and she feels the steady beat of his pulse beneath his skin. “love you too, princess.”

but the night isn’t over.

after the congratulations, the pictures, the gifts, he takes her inside. away from the crowd. into a quiet, dimly lit room.

the door clicks shut behind them.

her pulse spikes.

he leans against the wall, watching her. lazy, amused. like he knows exactly what she’s thinking.

“rafe,” she starts, but he’s already reaching for her.

his hands find her waist, fingers trailing over the curve of her hips, down to her bare thighs.

she shivers.

he smirks. “nervous, sweetheart?”

she bites her lip. nods.

“don’t be.”

his voice is softer now. lower. his hands slide up, brushing over her ribs, her back, pulling her close.

and then he kisses her.

slow. deep. long.

he takes his time, savoring every second, fingers gripping, holding, owning.

she melts. completely.

his lips move against hers, teasing, coaxing, making sure she feels everything.

when he finally pulls back, she’s breathless, dizzy, her body humming from his touch.

he chuckles, thumb brushing her swollen lips.

“happy graduation, baby.”

her heart is racing, her breath shallow. rafe watches her, that smirk still in place, his thumb grazing her bottom lip, like he knows exactly what he’s doing to her.

she shifts slightly, the hem of her white dress riding up, and his eyes flicker down. he doesn’t hide it, doesn’t even try.

“you look so pretty tonight,” he murmurs.

her cheeks burn, and she ducks her head, but he catches her chin, tilting her face back up.

“don’t hide from me, princess.”

she swallows hard. “i’m not.”

he hums, unconvinced. his hands slide down her sides, slow, deliberate, tracing the shape of her.

she shivers.

his lips brush against her ear. “you don’t even realize what you do to me, do you?”

her fingers curl into the fabric of his suit. she barely manages to shake her head.

his chuckle is low, deep. “so innocent.”

he leans in again, kissing her slower this time, like he’s savoring it. his hands tighten on her waist, pulling her flush against him.

she gasps softly, and he takes the opportunity to deepen the kiss, tasting her, teasing her.

her knees feel weak. if he wasn’t holding her up, she’d probably collapse.

when he finally pulls away, she’s breathless, dazed.

he brushes a strand of hair from her face, eyes dark, heavy with desire.

“come on, princess. let’s get you home.”

she blinks up at him. “you’re taking me home?”

his lips quirk, amused. “where else would i take you?”

her throat goes dry. she’s not sure what she expected.

but as he laces their fingers together and leads her outside, she knows one thing for sure—

this is only the beginning.

a/n: idk i got bored

[angelbitezzz]

Whoops more spicy art incoming

THIS is canonically set before this post so that's why he went a little overboard in that one HAHA

[purenguyening]

There something that really gets to me about this moment in this particular Conan case. Ai, who is normally written off as cold and calculating, uses her knowledge to comfort and reassure Maria about her Osaka dialect. Especially, when prior cases up to this point, the whole family of Kansai dialects, but especially Osaka's variant is played off as "improper" Japanese for a quick joke.

This delights me so much as both an Ai fan and as a linguist who loves and adores all regional variants from the bottom of my heart.