#trying to get back into my flow

[purple-obsidian]

unconditional (18+, red hood jason todd x fem reader) wc 1.5k

⭓ this post contains explicit sexual content and is not suitable for minors. reader is afab and described as shorter than jason. established relationship. if you sense a theme in my writing, what can i say. i'm a sucker for sleepy sex. dedicated to @janybabyy who is always down to proofread my work at a moments notice.

You awaken with a start, the familiar creek of your front door closing, pulling you from your uncomfortable half-slumber.

The hall light flickers on, casting a tall, dark shadow over your perch on the oversized recliner in your shared living room.

“You actually used the door.” You mumble sarcastically, recognizing the hulking frame as your boyfriend.

Your greeting is reciprocated by a raspy exhale, followed by a heavy footstep, then another. “You should be in bed.”

He's already rid himself of his helmet. You admire the outline of his shaggy hair as he stalks closer, your heart beating stronger when he pauses several feet in front of you.

“Says who?” You ask, a coy grin itching at the corner of your mouth.

“Me.”

Exhaustion is apparent in his voice. You can practically feel it radiating off his body. Jason reaches a heavy arm to massage away an ache in the back of his neck as you stand up and approach.

He’s leaning into your touch before your palm even reaches his cheek. Another long exhale escapes him, your touch akin to a cool drink of water after a long run in the heat.

”Can’t sleep without you here.”

“Huh. Yeah right,” he presses his lips to the skin of your wrist briefly before continuing, “I know I wake you up. Don’t lie.”

His arm snakes around your waist, the most natural movement in the world to him. Muscle memory. That’s where you belong, in his arms, by his side. Even so, you know he doesn’t believe you when you tell him that some people are worth losing sleep over. That his love is worth the occasional sleepless night, whether it’s staying awake from worry, or comforting him through his ever-present night terrors.

“Jason…” You bring your other hand to cup his face gingerly, feeling a pang of guilt at the dark circles under his eyes.

He works so hard.

Before you realize it’s happening, you’re guiding him down into a slow kiss. His lips, warm and familiar, are tinged with the taste of salt and blood. You allow yourself to indulge for a beat before shying away, wanting to check him for injuries. But as you rescind, needy lips follow, an almost desperate groan rumbling in his throat.

“Don’t.” He mumbles, lips flush against your own. Rough hands grip you closer at the small of your back. “Please, sweetheart. Need you. Missed you.”

You swoon, allowing him to consume your senses. Eyes closed, lips entangled once more, Jason Todd never needs to ask more than once for your affection. Ever since the day you confessed your love for each other, you give it to him, freely and willingly. You are his safe space, his haven. The one person he’s finally let himself be vulnerable with, where there’s no need for his reticence.

And in return? You have, in him, a best friend. Your protector, your lover, the only man who can make living in this hellhole of a city worth it. There are very few problems in your life that he cannot solve. Nevermind that most of those problems are caused by dating him in the first place. Dating a vigilante has its dangers, but Red Hood seems to be at the top of the ‘food chain’ when it comes to Gotham’s criminal underworld.

All that influence, all the money and power that comes with it, and he still chooses to come home to you. In your mediocre flat, with spotty internet, expensive heating, and a dishwasher that never seems to stay not broken, no matter how many times he fixes it.

Several articles of clothing, discarded in a tired haze of affection, lead a telling trail to the bedroom. Jason lifts you effortlessly, laying you down on the bed, keeping himself close so he’s on top of you. Cognizant of his size, he remains propped on his forearms, caging you in but graciously allowing you to breathe.

“Need you too.” You whisper up at him, basking in his attention. You bite your lip, and reach down for the waistband of his boxers, the only remaining article of clothing keeping him modest.

“M’gross.” He mutters, voice tinged in hesitation. “It’s been a long night.”

But he doesn’t stop your fingers from tugging on the elastic. He helps you, kicking them off, and settling his frame over yours again, allowing his lips to rest against your forehead.

“Don’t care.”

You turn your head, allowing your breath to fan over the scarred skin of his neck.

“I couldn’t be more proud of you, Jay. Besides…” You nudge your nose against him, inhaling deeply, savoring his musk, eyes rolling back at the rush of feel-good hormones that flood your brain from the familiarity.

Your boyfriend chuckles, “Yeah? Besides what, hm?” Peering down at you with lustful eyes, his deep tone sends a tingle down your spine. Nerves on fire from the closeness, you reach for him, slow yet confident, not disappointed when your fingers wrap around his length to guide him to the space reserved for him and him alone.

He knows what.

“No prep? You sure, sweetheart?” His voice is tired, strained, but there’s an unmistakable tenderness in how he addresses you. You know he doesn’t have the energy to get you warmed up. He barely has the energy to be on top.

“I can handle you, handsome. Just take it easy on me.”

With no willpower to contest your assurance, Jason's heavy eyelids flutter shut as he slowly lowers himself flush on top of you. Chest to chest, skin to skin. Slowly, ever so slowly, he pushes his aching cockhead inside the familiar warmth of your body. Your velvet walls weep from his intrusion, the sting in your inner muscles one you’ll never quite get used to. It’s a bittersweet pain that you've come to associate with this behemoth of a man you share your home with.

Jason takes his time. His movements are slow, languid, letting you grow accustomed to him an inch at a time. He keeps close, exhaling little praises into your ear every time a pained whimper escapes your throat.

“Good girl, shhh, nice and slow.”

“Been thinking about you all night.”

“That's it, relax for me, beautiful.”

His unhurried thrusts, tender and deliberate, are slow enough that the cool air of the bedroom has enough time to cool your slick along his shaft before he pushes his progress back in. Your strained panting fills his ear, the way you cling to him urges him to continue on despite the stretch you feel. You don’t want him to think he’s too much.

He’s never too much for you.

Never.

“Jason… Please.”

You clench around him when he pushes deeper, your body finally catching up and leaking your desire around his girth that’s splitting you open.

“Fuck.”

The muscles in Jason’s back tense and release. He pauses his hips, biting into the pillow behind your head, adjusting one arm to hold a bit more of his weight.

Desperate for more of him, you shift your hips up and buck him deeper inside you in short thrusts, digging your fingertips into his back. You’re careful not to use your nails, having promised yourself long ago that you would never be the cause of one of his scars.

But deep down you know, this man would wear a scar from you proudly. He’s proved on more than one occasion that he would die for you.

Just because he would take it, doesn’t mean he deserves it. Which is why you use your self control to restrain yourself while you cling to him gently, crying out in pleasure when he finally starts moving again to match your rhythm, heavy breathing shaking his whole body.

The friction from the increase in pace has you flexing your feet and writhing, nodding your head, stuttering out his name.

“I love when you’re like this…” He admits. “Fuck, you feel so, ugmmmph!” Jason loses his breath, his orgasm hitting him unexpectedly, like an ocean current that sweeps you away so quick, you don’t know which way is up. All he can think about, all he can perceive while the pleasure spasms down his legs is you.

“Y-yes!” You stuffer, helping him bottom out deep inside you, his tip kissing the entrance to your womb, decorating it with his essence while his climax peaks.

Taking advantage of his euphoria, you wrap your legs around his strong abdomen, and hold him closely, showering his neck in fervent kisses.

The noises he makes in response to your affection sound guttural, like you’re fulfilling a primal need of his that he’s been deprived of for too long. A need all humans have. Something Jason Todd, specifically, was lacking most of his life, until he met you.

Enthusiastic, genuine, tender affection. Love that’s unconditional.

The type of love that doesn’t care if he’s dirty and scarred. The kind of love that understands not every instance of intimacy will be an epic performance. It’s the love that finds it endearing when his gentle snoring fills your ear less than a minute later, still one with the most intimate parts of you.

if you enjoyed this, please consider reblogging or leaving a comment!

please don’t steal my work. don't upload it to another site, use it to train ai, or claim it as your own.

⭓ masterlist ⭓

[noodles-and-tea]

:))))

[wumbreon]

[ninakoll]

6 page (pg-13?) rinniki comic inspired by that one rly cute hajime story in which hajime is invited to eat pizza with rinne at niki's place. did this sort of as rinne's bday comic since niki got one too! sorry if its a little ooc i needed them in the Situation for this comic to work...

that dangling spit over someones face as punishment thing is 100% an older sibling forbidden move . anyway.. always fun to draw a short comic. see you aruound space cowboys

[hariboz]

“forget? you?” — shb x gen!reader

a little something i wrote to get back into my writing flow!

ex!hanbin has been plaguing my mind for a while now. the type to make the heart wrenching decision to break up with you to follow his dreams in hopes of finding what he wanted in the spotlight, ready to sacrifice the comfort of your embrace to chase what he has been dreaming of for years.

“thank you for always being by my side, but i don’t know if i can be happy if i don’t try one last time. i don’t want to break your heart, angel, but will you let me go?”

and you did. of course you did, how could you not? you could always see the sparkle in his eyes when he showed you a new choreography he made, the longing in his gaze when watching others dance on the same stages he could only dream of being on. you knew he was happy with you, you knew he loved you. he was happy, loved and comfortable, yet unfulfilled. because while you would give him every single star in the night sky if you could, no amount of your love would sustain his desire to become the shiniest star of them all himself.

so you let him go, gave him your blessing and told him to better make it to the top so your love was not given up in vain.

you had never seen hanbin cry so much before.

“i promise, angel. i’ll carry you with me in my heart.”

and truth be told, ex!hanbin held his promise. he made it. a leader, a highly sought after visual, a mc, a vocalist.

he’s not your binnie anymore. he’s not the one waking up an hour before your alarm to make you breakfast anymore. he’s not picking you up from work with that sweet smile and a smoothie in his hand. he doesn’t try to teach you his choreos anymore. he doesn’t giggle at you while fixing your hair anymore.

on days where it’s especially hard you catch yourself wishing you had refused, had kept him close to you. had begged him to stay back, to not sacrifice all the serene happiness you shared; but then you snap back to reality, the realisation that these selfish thoughts keep crawling their way up making you feel guilty.

it’s a sick twist of fate, you think, when you happen to walk past a wall of support ads for him plastered along your way. you don’t know whether to laugh or cry; whether you should be elated he is receiving an amount of love you could never have given him or whether you should be hurt and bitter that all this meant more to him than you seemingly ever did.

it’s not fair to compare like that, you know that, but it’s not like he’s there to defend himself. he’s never there anymore.

in your inner frenzy, the internal fight between wanting to support the man you still love oh so deeply and the selfish wish to have kept him for yourself, you bump into someone, misty eyes barely focused enough to notice the person in front of you.

you look up briefly to apologise, wanting nothing more than to get away from this overstimulating throwback to your better times, only to realise that the devil — angel — himself is standing right there.

right there, in front of you. sung hanbin. your binnie.

you know it’s him immediately despite the mask he’s wearing. the all too familiar sparkle in his eyes and his pretty lashes that you know all too well blinking back at you in shock, his eyes desperately darting over your face in an attempt to drink in every little change and detail.

you’re just about to speak when he turns at the sound of his name, which is when you finally realise the crowd standing not too far away, observing him like hawks and pointing their phones at him.

right. he’s idol binnie now.

so you bow politely and leave, trying your best to manoeuvre through the crowd. your heart is beating in your ears, your thoughts all jumbled and confused. you haven’t seen him in so long. not in person, anyways, and now you’re running away? what else could you have done?

it’s like you’re on autopilot, not even noticing you’ve made your way back home until you’re stood in front of your apartment. it’s then when you’re about to unlock your door, planning to crawl into bed and never come back out, that your phone vibrates.

first once, then twice.

“i don’t know if you want to talk to me anymore, but i was happy to see you today. even if it was really short.”

“i miss you.”

“you didn’t forget?”

“forget? you?”

“i could never. i love you.”

”did you ever think about dating an idol?”

ex!hanbin who, i think, would give it all up to follow his dream only to realise every single version of his future had you in it. and now he’s here, trying to win you back, hoping it’s not too late. because ex!hanbin is not only a romantic, but also in love. deeply, unabashedly in love.

[taknyanz]

woah alright clay lol.. some sketches for today

[haxxydraws]

sentry brood parasite wish you were here!

[clumsypuppy]

i cant go back to that life man

[ethereallroses]

plushy !!

[generalsdiary]

Moze x Jiaoqiu

word count: 900~

description: just mozqiu being domestic (pre-2.5 events)

moze is the type of husband who always cleans, keeps everything neat, he will run (quite literally) anywhere and do any errand without complaint, nothing is too hard or difficult for him. he is v protective, „I promise I will bring him back“, nothing is stopping him from getting his husband back, he is confident in his abilities, to the point he isn't even worrying. he always attentively listens to jiaoqiu’s ramblings, his full attention on the foxian. he will eat anything jiaoqiu puts before him, no matter his preferences. uttering simple praises after the meal and never letting his husband clean up.

at night he cuddles with him, being the big spoon, holding his husband close, face buried in the orangey pink hair. like a touch starved kitten, he gravitates to him during the day, always hugging him- backhugs are his favorite. jiaoqiu always smiles, a sparkle in his eyes with each embrace. moze is often quiet, very thoughtful- usually ending up blunt in his words but not cold, never cold. the care and love for each other shown in the soft words, gentle embraces and lingering gazes. moze doesn’t do causal touches, his hands don’t wander to jiaoqiu’s soft tail, or even softer ears, or to caress him. he doesn’t want to overwhelm his husband or make him uncomfortable. yet when they stand close he bumps his nose against his. and when he is so so tired he rests his forehead on the shorter man’s. recharging, seeking comfort, love. luckily for him, his husband knows his main love language is physical touch. jiaoqiu bringing his hands to cup his cheeks, thumbs caressing the rough skin. he misses the smile that brightens the foxian’s face, his eyes shut relishing in the sensations. such a sensitive and responsive man. jiaoqiu is the only person moze allows to touch him, to drag those soft fingers across his scars, through the silver hair, to see him shirtless. he is the only one with whom he makes and keeps eye contact. moze is the type of husband that even without being close jiaoqiu can feel his touch on him. sitting across him, over a hotpot. lilac eyes on him. full of love. as if he is caressing his husband’s cheek at that moment. making jiaoqiu’s chest feel warm from the feeling of such a silent expression of admiration.

on the days jiaoqiu voices that he feels tired a quick response is given in turn “I can carry you.” a blunt, straightforward, and the same offer every time. he is more than happy to carry him + he enjoys showing off for his hubby. not caring for the public opinion or any observers; it doesn’t even cross his mind, jiaoqiu’s happiness the only thing on his mind. sadly, he is always rejected (occasionally making him pout). moze doesn’t even know why (painfully obvious why, the rare blushed jiaoqiu further confirming it). shadows are his safe haven, but jiaoqiu is his peace. they fill each other's needs, like puzzles fitting together, completely domestic in their behaviors; perfect for general feixiao’s safety and well-being. despite working together they don’t get tired of each other. work is work and their house is home.

coriander is not allowed under this roof and no big lights are ever on. when they have guests, jiaoqiu compensates with many small lamps, fairy lights, and a bunch of candles. unscented ones. otherwise, they would clash with the meal. sometimes, jiaoqiu will light a scented candle, but it won’t be lit for longer than an hour, otherwise, he would get overwhelmed due to how sensitive his nose is to smells. moze being the clean freak, and insistent on maintaining really good hygiene and not strong perfumes so he can do his job perfectly would just make jiaoqiu purr if he could. type of husband truly only for him. jiaoqiu is quite a social butterfly and he drags his husband with him, who will grumble a bit and then go along, and behave politely to the best of his capabilities. moze cannot read a room to save his life, short in his sentences and straight to the point despite pondering his words prior, they end up always coming off blunt. he means no harm and what he says is usually of little matter, and none of it holds any weight to him when all he needs is to hear his darling chuckle or gaze at him and all is well in his world. the only result he could possibly ever wish for.

and when they kiss? the lighting and shadow with fire and spice? the I talk a lot, flirtatious, rarely flustered with I listen to you with heart eyes, mainly unaffected but you make me smile. well… they keep it private. such actions feel too personal and intimate for them to be shown in public and given for anyone to see on display. they hold it too close to their hearts, it matters in a different way to them. something near and dear. they won’t be caught showing pda, not even holding hands- well they rarely hold hands either way. it is behind closed doors and in the privacy of their home that their lips meet, and hands wander, leaving soft touches in intimate places that they’d never do in public (unlike many others). it means too much to them.

[mangonadaeddie]

Last Line Tag Game

Hello! @dangerpronebuddie and @daffi-990 both tagged me in a last line tag game... 54 days ago according to Tumblr. Finally cashing that in with my own :)

Here's a little bit from my space fic that I dusted off today!

He watches Eddie finish chewing, take a deep breath, a sip of his lemonade… he grabs one of his french fries and throws it at the two crows that have gathered near their table to pick at the crumbs they leave behind. They squabble over it, until one accidentally breaks it in half and they each have their own bite of Eddie’s fry.

tags below the cut! Let me know if you'd like to be added or removed, and if you aren't tagged but want to share, consider this your tag!

@diazsdimples @hotshotsxyz

@pirate-hunter @inell @laurennnnn21 @hippolotamus @aroeddiediaz

@theotherbuckley @loveyouanyway @wildlife4life @actuallyitsellie

@moonsharky @rainbow-nerdss @elvensorceress @jesuisici33

@watchyourbuck @eddiebabygirldiaz @queerweewoo @41noodlesoups

@epicbuddieficrecs @diazheartsbuckley @sunflower-eddiediaz

@queerprincesseddiediaz @keynb @drunkandsupportiveeddie @xxlizzy19xx

@lilac-lauren @singitforthegirls @misshiss727 @steadfastsaturnsrings

[kheprriverse]

I wasn’t gonna share it yesterday coz I didn’t like it but yk it’s fine here’s a Volga and a random goron

[cassidyleora]

HEY YOU! yes you!!!!!

I'm rusty at drawing after my break, so I'm taking character sketch requests (happy to do more than six)

any series at all is fine–even OCs are welcome, as long as you've got a reference image. lay em on me!

[electrikworm]

100 Drabble Challenge: Part 1

Trying out the 100 Drabble whump challenge by @whumpster-dumpster to get back in the flow of writing. All of these will be centred around Cal Kestis :)

You can find the challenge here, if you'd like to try it yourself :D

Ao3

1. Ache

Cal hisses as his leg gives out from under him, almost sending him sprawling into the mud. Since the dark clouds over Zeffo accumulated, rain whipping down steadily, the ache in Cal's knee has been getting worse.

He almost has to laugh at how familiar the sensation is, so much so that he almost welcomes it. Since Cal smashed his knee in a scrapping accident, every bout of rain on Bracca brought about the same sensation.

BD whistles inquisitively at Cal's pained noise, wanting to know if Cal's injured.

“I'm fine. Old wound, nothing you can do about it.”

Stumbling backwards, away from the flame beetle's corpse, Cal's barely able to breath. It burst too close to him, splattering the burning chemicals it produces across Cal's uncovered arm.

2. Burn

Dropping to his knees, Cal desperately tries to get as much of the substance off his arm as possible, thankful for the thick glove he wears. He has to take it off once he's done.

Still inhaling air in short gasps, Cal holds his arm away from himself, hesitant to touch the blistered skin covering his forearm. The pain is near unbearable.

With shaking hands, Cal takes the stim BD offers.

3. Cut

“You don't have to do this,” Cal sighs. Greez looks a little pale as he holds Cal's hand up to the light BD is shining for them.

“You cut yourself helping me fix the Mantis, you're not dealing with this alone.” Swearing in latero, Greez wipes the cut across the back of Cal's hand with disinfectant. Hissing at the burst of pain, Cal almost pulls his arm back.

“Sorry,” Greez says quickly, continuing to fuss over the small injury whilst muttering about the amount of blood. Cal doesn't understand his worry, but lets Greez work without commenting.

Heart thundering in his chest, Cal shuffles along a corroded wall. He dropped his torch after picking up an echo, leaving him stranded in the dark.

4. Darkness

Every shadow looks like a threat, like a beast waiting to devour him, like that one scrapper that got drunk and beat Cal, like clones. Like the clones he saw in the echo, hunting down a padawan Cal never even got the name of. Unlike Cal, she didn't survive, she didn't let her Master die to save herself.

The darkness seems to want to choke Cal as he forces himself to stumble forward weakly.

5. Faint

Someone shouting his name is the first thing Cal becomes aware of. Then it's the throbbing pain in his head, like his brain is trying to break through his skull.

Groaning, Cal opens his eyes. Everything's blurred and swaying, making Cal's nausea worse. When his vision focuses, Cal's eyes land on a familiar face.

Prauf sighs in relief as he watches Cal stir. “Gave us a scare there, Cal. You just dropped.”

Cal hunches. He's too old to be passing out from echo's, not to mention how dangerous doing so is. Apologizing, Cal scrambles to his feet and keeps working.

6. Cough

Tears threaten to fall across Cal's face as another coughing fit hits him. BD chirps in sympathy. Cal can't ever afford to be sick, couldn't on Bracca, can't now that's he's fighting the Empire either. Of course he had to fall ill now, with multiple freshly broken ribs.

Usually, Cal could keep going, no matter how unwell he was. But this time, Cal is reduced to laying awkwardly propped up on his cot with a pillow pressed to his chest to try and brace against the spikes of pain. Cal's rarely felt this useless before, and that's saying a lot.

7. Stranded

Cal swears in every language he knows how to as he sits up, inadvertently shifting his leg as he sits up. The pain makes him feel like he's going to be sick, the sight of his twisted limb not making the sensation any better.

Above the knee, Cal's leg is bent entirely wrong. He can't help the whimper that escapes him as he tries to push himself from the ground. Without stims, Cal knows he won't be able to get up the small cliff. BD ran out a while ago.

“Can't move,” Cal admits, hating having to do so.

8. Weak

“Shouldn't be this weak,” Cal thinks to himself. Hands shaking as he's forced to lean on the wall, breath ragged, Cal can't press his hand to his side, it hurts so much. Sweat coats his skin.

Since Nur, since he got stabbed, Cal's body's been trying to kill him. On top of an infection he got sick, rendering him useless. Even the action of getting water from the kitchen seemed impossible. Cal sinks to the ground.

BD's charging, rest of the crews whereabouts unknown. Having burdened them enough, Cal doesn't call for assistance. Instead, he waits where he fell.

9. Temperature

Merrin watches Cal with narrowed eyes, leaning across the kitchen table suddenly. Her hand darts forward, startling Cal when it comes to rest on his cheek. Cal almost flinches at how cold her hand is, but the sensation is welcome. If doing so wasn't so mortifying, Cal would lean into the contact.

“What temperature are humans supposed to be?” she asks, eyeing Cal suspiciously as she glances over at Cere. Before Cal can protest, Cere's pressed the back of her hand to Cal's forehead.

“Certainly not that one.”

Cal's being escorted back to the engine room in seconds.

10. Stumble

Despite his best efforts, Cal trips as he enters the Mantis. Stumbling forwards, almost hitting Merrin, he's brought to a halt by the Nightsister steadying him.

Inhaling sharply as her hand brushes his side, Cal tries to disguise the noise by moving away. But Merrin's already grabbed the edge of his poncho, exposing the blaster wound on his flank.

“It's nothing, really.” Cal quickly goes quiet when Merrin glares at him. After what Cal just saw her do to those stormtroopers, it's best he doesn't argue with her.

“You're letting me look at that,” she says with finality.

[pinkyjulien]

▶ WIP Wednesday - Tagged by @therealnightcity ! (on an actual Wednesday woagg)

Thank you for the tag! 🧡🤗 Perfect Timing 👀

I collabed with Berdagon once again, this time commissioning him for a "Flat Chest" detector (really similar to how the Bulge detector works)

The incoming ArchiveXL/TweakXL update will allow the use of both the Bulge Detector and Flat Chest Detector to work with Dynamic Appearances / DAAXL!

I'll be updating my recent mods to DAAXL to support this (soon to be release) Flat Chest Detector script 🤠 I'll also write a tutorial soon-ish, like I did for the bulge script

My vision is ALMOST COMPLETE NOW ✨👄✨ I'm so happy that this was doable AND that it works so well too!!

Lot of friendos got tagged already - So if you see this post, consider yourselves tagged 😌 share what you've been up to! 👉

[girlkisserr]

doodles from magma with a bunch of friends