#dusting off the cobwebs

[lemonsrosesandlavender]

Augh, turns out that even ten days of having written very little when you normally write very consistently will have you feeling rusty when you return. It might also be lingering cough/tiredness from my illness, and probably also putting too much pressure on myself as well. It'll be a cold day in Hell when I stop doing THAT though.

[egophiliac]

since Eng is getting 7.5 soon(?), I felt motivated to go back to my Meleanor rig and make her a couple of lesson animations! ...except for alchemy, because the cauldron bubbles proved too hard to photoshop around, whoops.

maybe she just got lost on her way to the classroom...?

(credit: backgrounds are from the game, I just put her on top of 'em)

(aside from the backgrounds, this is not an edit, I drew her from scratch! please do not tag or treat as an edit!)

[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 ⭓

[mickules]

No one wants an Impromptu Haircut

---

I'll never not be enamoured by Taka's absolutely DERANGED concept of respectability. Being his friend would not grant immunity - if anything else; he'd be so an outright MENACE

One day Mondo is going to wake up with a buzzcut and he'll have to wrestle with the very real possibility that he'll be responsible for the death of another brother.

(inspired by Terror of the ScissorMan by Tsubamemaru Watarizora from Danganronpa Anthology Vol 2 - translation can be found here)

[jeeaark]

[deadringers2023]

MEGAN THEE STALLION Big Ole Freak (2018)

[lizzibennet]

"I should like to use that moment to dance with my beautiful wife."

jonathan bailey & simone ashley as anthony bridgerton & kate sharma | bridgerton season 3 (2023)

[robiinurheart33]

Johnny who can say the words “I love you” but Simon who mouths the words I love you onto Johnny’s skin

Soap who pretends he’s whispering some important confidential information to Ghost but is actually whispering “I love you” into his ear. Ghost who deadpans at him but mouths the words love you into his balaclava, knowing he’ll spot the words.

Soap that gets injured on a mission and Simon helping to clean his wounds the nest few days, replacing bandages and placing ointments, kissing the fresh bandage. In his dingy old bathroom, Simon would drape himself over Johnny, tucking his face into his neck as he giggles and presses a “love you” into his temple.

Simon who wishes one day that he could whisper the words onto every area of his skin, just because. It brought him a comforting feeling to know that Johnny was covered in his love. How his heart wants to climb out of his chest and be one with Johnny forever. He bleeds and his love is tender, it stings to the touch.

But for now, it would have to to. It will have to do. Simon can’t risk what they have, with what so little they have. So he will press his thumb to Johnny’s wrist to feel his pulse, murmur reassurances into an ear, squeeze the back of his nape, and it’ll be worth it. It’s okay. He’s okay.

It’s gonna be okay.

[ghost-proofbaby]

okay no but bbf!perv!eddie unable to stop his hand from lingering a liiiitttle too long on your skin after he slaps the tattoo. obv he cant do anything too rough (although he would give anything to just be able to dig his fingers in to the soft skin there), but that's almost WORSE because instead you're aware of every one of his fingers on your overly sensitive skin, the warmth of his palm against your stinging ass, both soothing and burning at the same time

he doesn't even realise he's doing it, and you peek over your shoulder and nearly get a jumpscare at just how intense he looks - eyes fixed on where he's touching you, the boy is practically vibrating from holding himself back

HELPPPPPP

he should probably pull away.

he knows he should. he’s well aware his touch has long out-lingered its welcome on your warm skin. but he can’t. he tells his hand to drop, to come back to him, to just fall anywhere else but your ass — all his fingers do in response are curl into the flesh, feeling the soft muscle beneath his joints and his breath catch painfully between his ribs.

all he can do is squeeze softly and stare at where his skin is meeting yours. all he can do is continue to take abnormally deep breaths, teetering on the verge of gasping as his stare starts to burn hotter than where he’d slapped your skin.

“e-eddie?”

you’re all nervous laughter and wide eyes, and it almost makes it worse when you stutter out his name. somewhere between a plea and a sigh, falling between the raveens of asking him to stop touching you and begging him to never stop.

“sorry,” he whispers, but his hand doesn’t move.

“can you…” can you move your hand? can you stop driving me insane? can you stop looking at me like some helpless prey and igniting this damned warmth in my belly that is 10 seconds from turning this entire friendship to ash? “can you do it again?”

eddie munson’s heart officially stops. the last and hardest beat of it echoes in his silent chest and he’s looking up at you wildly, stunned, quietly. for the first time since he’s met you, his tongue has become a foreign and heavy object not fit for his instruction.

and you take his silence as a no. you take his silence as you pushing too far and projecting one too many fantasie onto him for a final time. you take his lack of response as a you just fucked everything up, idiot.

“i’m- fuck, i’m sorry,” you start, “forget i ask-“

“again?”

his hand finally moves, and it’s trailing down now, fingers dancing along the back of your thigh in unsure movements. not ready to no longer feel you. not ready to leave the moment.

piqued interest, palpable curiosity, buzzing eagerness — there’s not one sliver of disgust in his tone.

it’s the only reason you’re brave enough to wear a fragile smile as you nod, cheek lowering to the pillow as you say it more surely this time, “again.”

this time, the slap is more deliberate.

and this time, it lands where you want it. between the apex of your thighs, stinging in a way far more pleasurable than before, making you cry out a bit more surely this time.

maybe it’s his sudden smirk. maybe it’s his dark eyes. or maybe it’s that goddamn tent in his pants and the wet spot he can’t hide from you.

yeah. he’ll do it again. he’ll do it as many times as you ask for it, because this time, he gets it.

you both get it.

[latenightsundayblues]

I want to see little Billy with Braces.

Because I have a feeling he had braces

One lil billy comin up

That tooth was NOT missing last time they saw each other

Also a slightly-bigger billy as a treat

[sockibean]

THIS IS SO STUPID BUT I DIDNT HAVE TIME TO MAKE SOMETHING PROPER HAHDJAJKDJD

HAPPY BIRTHDAY A-YAO 🥳🎉

[lesbiheon]

favorite things about changkyun: — his habit of messing w/ the cameraperson

[loveshotzz]

how was sweet whatta'man!steve's weekend? i'm on my period rn and miss my man

18+

bouncer!steve had a good weekend, despite getting in trouble with bartender!eddie late Saturday night after he told him he’d be back in five minutes so he could walk you to your door.

those five minutes turned into an hour, but it’s not his fault your skirt was so short that night. so short he could see right up it as your swayed your hips with something a little extra just for him as you climbed the stairs front of him. just like it wasn’t his fault when he dropped to his knees behind you as your tipsy fingers fiddled with the keys to your apartment, and it still wasn’t his fault when he turned you around with big hands on your hips so he could get to what he wanted the most, properly.

No, it was yours, keeping him there as he ate you alive like a man staved with your glittery pink nails dug deep into the dark honey roots of his hair, with one knee hooked over his shoulder.

[cherrykamado]

did i ever show u this

[dreamaze]

HYUNGWON :: Givenchy Beauty × Singles +

showered with compliments

[multi-fandomdisaster]

Hello I am lowkey begging you to tell me about the au you mentioned in your reblog of my Warrior of Webby John post pls pls pls pls pls pls pls pls pls pls pls pls

YES ABSOLUTELY!!!!!!

So the AU starts out by following John not doing too hot post-getting absorbed into the Black and White during Black Friday. He's struggling and going Through It™️ as the Black and White starts immediately trying to warp him to better fit into itself when Webby sees that he's there and helps him out as a thanks for saving Lex. Mentally exhausted and absolutely fucking frazzled by the all the supernatural cosmic horror shit that's been happening to him, he basically straight up collapses at Webby's feet and devotes himself to her right then and there. Her response is basically just "Okay if you really want," & from then on he becomes her like- not quite servant, but you know what I mean. Kinda like a much more chill version of what Wiggly & Wiley have going on lmao

Also there's a lot of spider-based body horror that happens to John at this point, so that's a lot of fun!!! :)

I took inspiration from Nick Lang saying in a live stream somewhere that at one point they were debating making a Nightmare Time episode that was a direct sequel to Black Friday where everything was post-apocalyptic after the nuke hit, and have it so that basically Hatchetfield is going through the apocalypse and Webby ends up sending John in to make sure the Foster sisters don't die (because Wiley's still out there wreaking havoc lol)