#what I don't write

[somber-sapphic]

My Rules

-> not currently taking x reader requests <-

What I DO Write:

General sickfics- fever, cough, cold, sneezing, etc

Cold/flu

Fluff with minor angst

Caretaking/comfort

What I DON'T Write:

SMUT- do not ask me to write smut

Stomach stuff- it's a phobia

Drunk characters

OC's- maybe someday, but not now and not on this blog

Death- we're about fluff and comfort here

Injury- unless it is as a result of sickness or connected to it in some way {ex. fainting due to illness and getting a concussion, insult to injury type prompt}

Men- males may appear in writing but I will not write male reader or pairing

PLEASE READ:

I reserve the right to refuse any request I am uncomfortable writing, you do not have my permission to copy/translate my work.

[moraxsthrone]

◇ WHAT I WRITE (and what i don't) ◇

sfw/nsfw · fics · drabbles · headcanons · 18+ characters only · f!reader (mostly) · gn!reader · m!reader (upon request)

genres ◇ smut/erotica · fluff/comfort · angst/hurt · dilf · domestic

kinks ◇ (hard! · savage! · daddy! · lifestyle! · brat tamer!) Dom / (bratty! · babygirl!) sub · dubcon · cnc (con noncon) · spitting · clit slapping · hair pulling · bondage/shibari/rope play · clothed sex · light exhibitionism/voyeurism · praise · squirting · cum eating/cumflation · creampie · facial · oral/deepthroat/throat fucking/face fucking/face riding · pegging/ass play · spanking · thigh riding · cock worship · body worship · i'm basically a filthy whore, k?

fave tropes ◇ friends to lovers · enemies to lovers · angst to fluff · hurt to comfort · mutual pining

genshin impact characters i currently write for ◇ zhongli/morax/rex lapis · kaeya alberich · thoma · arataki itto · diluc ragnvindr

i will thirst with you over most other characters too. if there is a character that i wouldn't touch with someone else's 10-foot polearm, i'll gracefully decline.

hard limits/what i don't write ◇ rape/noncon · minors/underage/pedophilia · incest (step-"incest" okay) · scat

[butchfalin]

the funniest meltdown ive ever had was in college when i got so overstimulated that i could Not speak, including over text. one of my friends was trying to talk me through it but i was solely using emojis because they were easier than trying to come up with words so he started using primarily emojis as well just to make things feel balanced. this was not the Most effective strategy... until. he tried to ask me "you okay?" but the way he chose to do that was by sending "👉🏼👌🏼❓" and i was so shocked by suddenly being asked if i was dtf that i was like WHAT???? WHAT DID YOU JUST SAY TO ME?????????? and thus was verbal again

[writing-is-a-martial-art]

Guy who has wandered through the halls and corridors of your body not with any special kind of love but with the untold intimacy of a contractor assessing the damages and potentials voice: right, so the main issue here is that the body is currently a temple, okay, and what we want is for it to be a home, cause temples are pretty and all and occasionally nice to be in if you're into that sort of thing but very few people would actually want to live in one. So what we're gonna do first is you're gonna take a look at what's here, the carrying walls and windows and all that, and you're going to come up with something you'd actually like to be alive inside of, and it's going to be a lot of work and it's going to feel strange and stupid and embarrassing but you're still gonna do it, because otherwise this construction site is fucked. And maybe what you want to live in is a skatepark or an anime-themed cat cafe or an esoteric library that has a dildo section for some reason, so it might feel like it's a downgrade from a temple, but it's actually the opposite cause the main customer for a body is you and the main customer for a temple are templegoers and maybe higher powers of some kind, - i wouldn't know about those, they never hired me, - not the temple itself, which is what you are, right, cause the body/mind/soul separation doesn't actually do anything, so what you're gonna do is look at the current layout and dig out whatever hope and ability to want you have and come up with a blueprint, and then my boys can actually get to work. Oh, and you have got to change the windows, it's drafty as fuck in here.

[daisywords]

One of my biggest nitpicks in fiction concerns the feeding of babies. Mothers dying during/shortly after childbirth or the baby being separated form the mother shortly after birth is pretty common in fiction. It is/was also common enough in real life, which is why I think a lot of writers/readers don't think too hard about this. however. Historically, the only reason the vast majority of babies survived being separated from their mother was because there was at least one other woman around to breastfeed them. Before modern formula, yes, people did use other substitutes, but they were rarely, if ever, nutritionally sufficient.

Newborns can't eat adult food. They can't really survive on animal milk. If your story takes place in a world before/without formula, a baby separated from its mother is going to either be nursed by someone else, or starve.

It doesn't have to be a huge plot point, but idk at least don't explicitly describe the situation as excluding the possibility of a wetnurse. "The father or the great grandmother or the neighbor man or the older sibling took and raised the baby completely alone in a cave for a year." Nope. That baby is dead I'm sorry. "The baby was kidnapped shortly after birth by a wizard and hidden away in a secret tower" um quick question was the wizard lactating? "The mother refused to see or touch her child after birth so the baby was left to the care of the ailing grandfather" the grandfather who made the necessary arrangements with women in the neighborhood, right? right? OR THAT GREAT OFFENDER "A newborn baby was left on the doorstep and they brought it in and took care of it no issues" What Are You Going to Feed That Baby. Hello?

Like. It's not impossible, but arrangements are going to have to be made. There are some logistics.

[seviiul]

( writing rules + dni )

𝒐𝒏 𝒘𝒓𝒊𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈

𝒐𝒓

𝒘𝒉𝒂𝒕'𝒍𝒍 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒎𝒐𝒅𝒐𝒓𝒆 𝒘𝒓𝒊𝒕𝒆, 𝒘𝒐𝒏'𝒕 𝒘𝒓𝒊𝒕𝒆, 𝒃𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒅𝒂𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒔

RETURN TO NAVIGATION

REQUESTS: OPEN

ASK BOX: OPEN

𝑨𝑹𝑻𝑰𝑪𝑳𝑬 𝑰 : 𝒇𝒂𝒏𝒅𝒐𝒎𝒔 𝒘𝒆 𝒘𝒓𝒊𝒕𝒆 𝒇𝒐𝒓

— To say the least, I will strictly stick to writing for historical / fantasy esque fandoms ( assassin's creed, lord of the rings, the hobbit, pirates of the caribbean, our flag means death ). It is a possibility I could include more over time, but as of now this is it. The following is a list I composed of characters, just to be specific and create less disappointment for individuals who sought for someone I won't write.

ASSASSIN'S CREED

𝐈 :: Altaïr Ibn-La'Ahad; Malik Al-Sayf

𝐈𝐈 :: Ezio Auditore de Firenze; Leonardo Da Vinci

𝐈𝐈𝐈 :: Connor Kenway; Haytham Kenway

𝐈𝐕: 𝐁𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐊 𝐅𝐋𝐀𝐆 :: Edward Kenway

𝐑𝐎𝐆𝐔𝐄 :: Shay Cormac; George Monro

𝐔𝐍𝐈𝐓𝐘 :: Arno Dorian; Elise De La Serre

𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐃𝐈𝐂𝐀𝐓𝐄 :: Jacob Frye; Evie Frye

𝐕𝐀𝐋𝐇𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐀 :: Eivor Varinsson/Varinsdottir

TOLKIEN

𝐋𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 :: Frodo Baggins; Samwise Gamgee; Peregrine "Pippin" Took; Meriadoc "Merry" Brandybuck; Aragorn II Elessar; Legolas Thranduillon; Boromir; Faramir; Eomer; Eowyn

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐇𝐎𝐁𝐁𝐈𝐓 :: Bilbo Baggins; Thorin Oakenshield; Fili; Kili; Thranduil; Elrond; Lindir; Tauriel; Bard

PIRATES OF THE CARIBBEAN

Jack Sparrow

James Norringron

William Turner Jr.

Elizabeth Swann

OUR FLAG MEANS DEATH

Stede Bonnet

Edward "Blackbeard" Teach

Israel "Izzy" Hands

Jim Jimenez

(THIS LIST IS SUBJECT TO CHANGE)

𝑨𝑹𝑻𝑰𝑪𝑳𝑬 𝑰𝑰 : 𝒘𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒘𝒆 𝒘𝒓𝒊𝒕𝒆, 𝒅𝒐𝒏'𝒕 𝒘𝒓𝒊𝒕𝒆

— I don't have a specific preference for what format ( i.e. headcanons, oneshots, full on fics etc.) I would write things in, so you can expect a mix of all of them if I have the energy. I write for female, male, and gender neutral readers.

— I AM to include dark content in my writings: that includes things like violence/blood, yandere behavior, and alcoholism; but I WILL NOT get to rape or incest. Speaking of sex, I WON'T write any sexual content in general: the closest to that is suggestive content, like kissing/making out and touching. I won't write any angst either, simply because I'm bad at invoking sadness in writing.

𝑨𝑹𝑻𝑰𝑪𝑳𝑬 𝑰𝑰𝑰 : 𝒘𝒉𝒆𝒏 𝒓𝒆𝒒𝒖𝒆𝒔𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈 / 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒊𝒏𝒈

— My update schedule can be slow, or just generally very wonky considering I'm an IB student, and I additionally have ATROCIOUS procrastination issues. Basically, please have patience.

— Again, I do NOT write full on smut, rape, nor incest. Any request or ask hinting at that will be deleted immediately.

— I won't tell adults beyond something something age to not interact, as the fandoms I intend to write for ( assassins creed) would draw adult readers here anyway. But I need all of you, minors AND adults, to be mindful of what tags and warnings I include to the fics you read from me, as the dark content I write can be triggering to some people.

𝑨𝑹𝑻𝑰𝑪𝑳𝑬 𝑰𝑽 : 𝒃𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒅𝒂𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒔

— I would say people with any beliefs can come around, but I will not tolerate when the individual interacting with the blog is racist, homophobic, pedophilic, sexist, or religiously intolerant. Just don't be disrespectful in general.

— Do know that this is a minor - seventeen (07) - working behind this blog; you are in your right to block me if you don't want me to interact.

© SEVIIUL do not repost, steal, use for AI.

[inkskinned]

this is just my opinion but i think any good media needs obsession behind it. it needs passion, the kind of passion that's no longer "gentle scented candle" and is now "oh shit the house caught on fire". it needs a creator that's biting the floorboards and gnawing the story off their skin. creators are supposed to be wild animals. they are supposed to want to tell a story with the ferocity of eating a good stone fruit while standing over the sink. the same protective, strange instinct as being 7 and making mud potions in pink teacups: you gotta get weird with it.

good media needs unhinged, googling-at-midnight kind of energy. it needs "what kind of seams are invented on this planet" energy and "im just gonna trust the audience to roll with me about this" energy. it needs one person (at least) screaming into the void with so much drive and energy that it forces the story to be real.

sometimes people are baffled when fanfic has some stunning jaw-dropping tattoo-it-on-you lines. and i'm like - well, i don't go here, but that makes sense to me. of fucking course people who have this amount of passion are going to create something good. they moved from a place of genuine love and enjoyment.

so yeah, duh! saturday cartoons have banger lines. random street art is sometimes the most precious heart-wrenching shit you've ever seen. someone singing on tiktok ends up creating your next favorite song. youtubers are giving us 5 hours of carefully researched content. all of this is the impossible equation to latestage capitalism. like, you can't force something to be good. AI cannot make it good. no amount of focus-group testing or market research. what makes a story worth listening to is that someone cares so much about telling it - through dance, art, music, whatever it takes - that they are just a little unhinged about it.

one time my friend told me he stayed up all night researching how many ways there are to peel an orange. he wrote me a poem that made me cry on public transportation. the love came through it like pith, you know? the words all came apart in my hands. it tasted like breakfast.

[ramblesamongstardust]

I understand the "I will die for you" ship dynamic, but what about the "I will not let you die, I will not let myself die- we will, at any cost, survive" kind of couple?

[sceletaflores]

slippin' and slidin' all over you!

pair: logan howlett x fem!reader

wc: 4k

contains: 18+ SMUT MDNI, swearing, sweating, mutual masturbation, sweat licking (i don't know???), not-so-dry humping, p in v, JUST THE TIP RAHHH, creampie, fingering (fem!recieving), oral sex (fem!receiving), come swapping, come eating, literally over four thousand words of pure nasty smut, this is gross lowkey, idk i'm h*rny, porn w/o plot, no use of y/n.

nat’s note: very much not the winner or even an option of the poll i posted last week but...shhh don't hate me. it’s october and over 80 every single day, what the fuck is that? only good thing that came from this heat is thoughts of nasty sweaty sex with logan. once again shoutout to my wonderful husband @ebodebo for reading this over for me (i successfully changed her vendetta against sucking up some man sweat...which was the real point of this fic tbh) go give her fics some love if you're a slut for ghost! kisses!

logan forgot to fix the ac...

It's too hot out to be alive. 36°C and sunny.

One of the hottest days in recent memory for Alberta, and you're really feeling it.

"Remind me," you say slowly, the first words spoken in almost ten minutes. "How many times did I ask you to fix the air conditioner?"

"Don't start," Logan says from his spot across the room. His head is tipped back to rest on the couch cushion, eyes slipped shut.

You ignore him, lazily rolling your head to the side to look at him through squinted eyes, your brows furrowed in thought. "Was it ten? Or maybe thirteen?"

Logan huffs a breath, slow and heavy, but he doesn't move--doesn't even open his eyes. “I said don’t start,” he mutters again, though there’s the faintest edge of a smile pulling at the corners of his mouth.

"Don't worry baby," you say, voice pitched lower in a terrible impersonation of Logan. "I'll get to it, promise. Won’t get too hot for another couple months."

Logan finally cracks an eye open, just enough to give you a sideways glance, his mouth twitching with amusement. "You done?"

You hum noncommittally, the sound lingering in the air like the lazy summer breeze doing nothing to cool the temperature outside. Your gaze slips down the side of his face to trace the jut of his jaw, then lower to the sweaty column of his neck. 

Both you and Logan lost most of your clothes earlier in the day, too hot to bother wearing anything but underwear. You trudged around the house like zombies until you finally gave up on trying to be productive, you both ended up in the living room. 

All the windows are cracked open, trying in vain to let in any cool air. You claimed the armchair closest to the fan, refusing to be anywhere near Logan and the massive heat wave he constantly gives off.

Logan’s on the couch, stripped down to the thinnest pair of sleep shorts you’ve ever seen. His chest is bare, glistening with a thin sheen of sweat that mats the dark hair dusted along his pecs to his skin. 

You can’t help the way your eyes follow the drops of moisture that slide slowly down the contours of his abs. A low heat starting to swirl through your gut when it disappears into his happy trail.

It's funny. When you basically peeled yourself off your mattress this morning, sex was the absolute last thing on your mind.

Now, as your eyes glide over the strong expanse of Logan's body on full display, you're having second thoughts.

Maybe it just comes with the heat. That sort of slow, syrupy feeling that slides along your overheated skin to pulse pleasantly between your thighs.

A bead of sweat slides down the length of your spine slowly, falling until it soaks into the damp waistband of your panties. You try to not notice how Logan is halfway across the room, not touching you.

You fail.

“It’s just a shame, though,” you start, fingers idly toying with the hem of your tank top. “If it was cooler, I could come over there.”

You slide a leg up, letting it rest against the wooden rest, newly exposed skin gleaming under the sunlight filtering in. 

The move isn't lost on Logan. You see his jaw clench slightly, the tiniest shift in his posture.

"Something you wanted?" Logan asks, his voice going low and teasing. "Looks like you've been gettin' yourself all worked up over there."

“Just thinking,” you reply, shifting slightly on the sticky leather of the chair.

Logan’s fingers twitch at his sides, his chest rising and falling with slow, measured breaths. His eyes slide the rest of the way open, his gaze heavy and lingering as it ventures down to where your thin shirt sticks to your skin, outlining every curve.

“Oh yeah?” he prompts, his voice a little rougher now. “Thinkin’ about what, baby?”

“You,” you say easily, fingers slipping down to your thigh. You bring your other leg up, perching it against the opposite armrest. Your thighs spread wide enough that you know Logan has a full view of the wet spot growing along the gusset of your panties.

The hitch in Logan’s breath has you stifling a smug smile, taking your bottom lip between your teeth as you watch the way his chest starts rising faster.

"That's real sweet, sugar," he drawls, an unimpressed look on his face as he drags his eyes back up to your own. "But if you're tryin' to get me over there, you're gonna have to do better than that." His voice slides through the air heavy and warm like molasses.

You bite back a grin, enjoying the slow game that's unfolding between the two of you. 

"Maybe I don’t want you to come over here," you let your fingers trail a little lower, just to the edge of your panties, teasing. “Maybe I like you right where you are.”

Logan’s brow raises, his thighs tensing before he spreads them just a touch wider. The fabric of his boxers goes taut over the strong muscle, riding up to expose even more hairy skin to your greedy eyes.

"You're playin' with fire, kid," he warns.

The tent in his shorts is obvious now, the hard length of his cock pressing against the fabric where it lays across his thigh. Your other hand twitches by your side at just the sight, your pussy throbbing with the sudden need to be filled.

"Am I?" you murmur, your fingers slipping beneath the waistband of your panties, just enough to make sure he knows exactly where this is headed. ”It’s not like you’re going to do anything about it, you’re too busy pouting."

With a deliberate slowness, you slide your fingers lower, brushing against your clit with just enough pressure to let out a soft gasp at the contact. You arch your back slightly, relishing in the way the air feels against your skin, hot and sticky.

You want him to see how badly you need him—how his heat is the only thing that could truly satisfy the insatiable ache building between your legs.

Logan's nostrils flare, jaw tightening and eyes darkening at the sight of you teasing yourself. His restraint is slipping, and you can practically feel the tension building in the room, thick and stifling like the oppressive summer heat. 

But he still doesn’t move, doesn’t rush over like you expect him to. Instead, he shifts his hips slightly, spreading his legs wider and letting his hand fall on his thigh. 

You can’t help the way your breath quickens at the sight, the way his fingers drift dangerously close to his own growing bulge, teasing you just as much as you’re teasing him. 

You tilt your head to the side, gazing at him through your lashes. “You're really just gonna leave me hanging?” you goad, fingers circling lazily around your sensitive clit. “Come on stud, whip it out.”

Logan chuckles low, a sound that sends shivers through you. "Is that what you want, baby?" he asks, voice thick and taunting, a smirk curling on his lips. “You want me to whip it out for you?”

“Yeah,” you murmur breathlessly, biting your lip as you maintain eye contact, your breath starting to come in short bursts. “I need to see you, Logan. Need to see how hard you are for me.”

“Need to, huh,” he muses slowly, fingers finally grazing over the hard length of his cock. “What’s in it for me?”

“How about this?” You slip your hand out from your ruined panties, fingers glistening with your own wetness as you hook your thumbs on either side and drag them down your legs.

You let the soaked cotton fall to the floor, leaving you completely exposed to him.

Logan’s pupils dilate, an inky black completely swallowing the warm hazel. He licks his lips slowly, the tip of his tongue running along his teeth like he wants to sink them into you. His cock twitches visibly beneath his shorts, the growing tension in the air between you thick enough to choke on.

“Fuck,” he breathes out, his voice low and gravelly, more of a growl than a word.

You smile, shifting in the chair to give him an even better view, your legs spreading wider. "Yeah?" you purr, running your fingers over your slick inner thigh, feeling the heat radiating from your own skin. “You like what you see?”

Logan swallows hard, his hand finally slipping beneath the waistband of his shorts, palming his cock as he watches you. “You know I do,” he says, voice rougher than before. 

You let your hand trail back down to your clit, rubbing it in slow, teasing circles as you hold his gaze. “Then show me, Logan,” you whisper, your voice almost a plea now. "I wanna see you."

Logan lets out a low, rumbling groan, his fingers making quick work of shoving his shorts down enough to free his cock. It springs free to slap lewdly against his stomach and you can’t help the moan that escapes your lips at the sight.

He strokes himself slowly to start, his eyes locked on you, watching your every reaction, feeding off the way your chest rises and falls in quick, shallow breaths.

"Like this?" he asks, his tone taunting as he strokes himself from base to tip, his thumb swiping over the head with a low hiss. “That what you wanted?”

Your breath catches in your throat at the sight of him, straining and in his hand. The sight of his thumb brushing over the tip of his cock sends a hot, electric pulse through your body, your hand between your legs moving in time with his slow strokes.

"Yeah," you whisper, voice trembling with need. "Just like that."

You slip your hand lower, sliding two fingers inside yourself with a low moan. Logan groans like he’s the one being touched, his hand speeds up, eyes glued to where your fingers disappear in your slick heat.

His cock leaks pre-come over his knuckles each time his fist passes over the dripping head, the wet sound of it mixing with the low hum of the fan and your own breathy sighs.

"You look so fuckin' good like this honey," Logan groans, his voice rough, strained. "All spread out, playing with that pretty pussy for me."

You whimper at his words, your body aching for more than just your own touch. You need him, need the feel of his rough hands on your skin, his mouth, his cock—anything.

Your fingers move faster, slipping deeper inside with each pump, but it’s still not enough. The stretch is nothing compared to taking Logan, to the feeling of him carving a place for his thick cock inside your pussy, hitting that spot inside you that your fingers can’t quite reach.

Your hips buck up towards your hand, your back arching off the chair as your free hand clutches the armrest tightly.

Logan’s pace quickens, his fist pumping his cock with a new urgency, heavy balls bouncing with every rough tug.

“God, look at you, such a needy fuckin’ thing” he growls, chest heaving as his gaze flicks between your flushed face and the glistening mess you’re making of yourself like he can’t decide where to look. “You want it bad, don’t you?”

"Please," you whine, desperation creeping into your voice. Too keyed up to draw this out any longer. “I need you inside me, Logan. I can’t take it anymore.”

Logan groans, a sound that rumbles deep in his chest. His hand falters slightly on his cock, squeezing hard around the base as your words push him dangerously close to the edge. His jaw clenches, eyes raking over you, and with a growl, he stands. 

The last threads of his restraint snapping.

 He crosses the room in two long strides, towering over you where you sit. His cock swollen and hard, sways between his legs with every step, glistening with pre-come that drips to the floor. His eyes, hooded and burning, drink you in as he reaches down, yanking your hand away from your slick heat.

“Thought you said it was too hot to move,” you tease breathlessly, unable to quit egging him on even when your legs start to tremble with need, spreading wider to welcome him.

Logan ignores you, tugging your hand to his lips. Your breath catches in your chest, a weak moan escaping you as he takes your soaked fingers in his mouth. His tongue swirling along your skin to taste you, his eyes never leaving yours as he does.

“Changed my mind,” he growls, strong hands rough and possessive as they drop your wrist and haul you out of the chair so he can spin around, collapsing into it with you in his lap. The wood gives a warning creak beneath you but neither of you care.

Not when his mouth is on yours, hot and demanding as he slides his tongue past the seam of your lips. The heat radiating off his body is suffocating, but you welcome it—craving the weight of him on you.

You melt against him, feeling the hard planes of his body against yours, every inch of him alive and pulsating with need. Logan’s hands find their way to your hips, fingers digging in just enough to send a rush coursing through you.

It’s intoxicating, the way he devours you, his hands exploring every inch of your back, grasping and pulling you impossibly closer. 

The hard jut of his cock presses against your thigh, a thick plane of heat that makes your pussy throb with need. You shift your hips, grinding down on him in messy circles.

“You feel that?” he growls, lips brushing against your ear. “That’s all for you, darlin’.”

“Need you,” you whimper, grinding down against him faster, desperate for the friction that sends pleasure rippling through you. “Please, Logan, I need you inside me now.”

“Hold on, baby,” he murmurs, his voice low and husky, sending sparks all up your spine.

He dips his head, capturing your lips again, while his hands roam hungrily down your sides, fingers curling around your thighs to urge your legs open wider. “You wanna tease me, you’re gonna have to get off just like this.”

Logan angles his hips so that his cock slips between your drenched folds the next time you roll your own down.

The hot, slick glide sends electric shocks of pleasure racing through you, your body responding instinctively to his touch. You gasp against his lips, fingers tangling in his hair as you push down, desperate for more.

“God, you’re so fuckin’ wet,” he growls, his voice dripping with lust as he watches your movements with hungry eyes. “Just for me, huh? She’s droolin’ just for me.”

You nod breathlessly, chasing the friction, craving the feel of him so close. You lift your hips and rock back down again, the blunt head of his cock brushing against your swollen clit, and you feel your body pulse in response. 

“More,” you plead, leaning in to nibble at his lower lip. “I need it.”

Logan pulls away, shaking his head with a wicked grin. “Come on, tough shot,” he says, giving your ass a quick smack and kneading the tender flesh in his hand roughly. “You’re gonna come like this, you can do it baby.”

You whine, dropping your chin to your chest. Your hands find his shoulders, nails digging crescent moons into the strong muscle. Your chest slips slickly against his, the front of your tank almost entirely soaked with sweat.

Yours or his, it doesn't matter. The white cotton turned transparent enough that your breasts are on full display, nipples hard and visible.

You watch a single bead of sweat make its way down the length of his throat. It trickles down and down and down until it dips between the pronounced muscles of his chest.

You duck your head, dragging your tongue up the valley of his pecs. A deep moan bursts from your lips, pussy drooling more slick over Logan’s cock at the coarse feel of his thick hair on your tongue, at the heady taste of his sweat filling your senses.

Logan groans, hands tightening their hold on your waist. The dull ache his strength leaves behind is enough to let you know that two hand shaped bruises will be blooming over your skin by tomorrow morning. 

“Come on, girly,” he encourages, nipping at the sweaty column of your throat, the sharp points of his teeth scraping along the sensitive skin deliciously. “Fuck me, give it to me good.”

Your hips speed up, his hard cock sliding through the slick folds of your cunt faster. The tip bumps against your clit deliciously with every move, smearing pre-come along the way to add even more to the mess between your legs.

“Gonna fuckin’ fill you up,” he groans, breath puffing warm and hot agasint the slick skin of your lips. “Pump you so full of my come you’ll be leakin’ for a goddamn week.”

He shifts underneath you, the tip of his cock catching on your entrance just enough for it to push inside on the next grind of your hips.

The barely there fullness has you coming with a sharp cry, nails roughly dragging down Logan’s back hard enough to leave red welts that heal as you go.

The pain mixing with the pleasure of finally getting to feel the warm, wet suction of your pussy has Logan coming with a rough shout of your name. He throws his head back, hands tightening their grip on your hips enough to have your bones grinding together as he pumps you full of his come. 

“Logan…” you mewl, your pussy fluttering over the tip of his cock, greedy little clenches like you're trying to suck him the rest of the way in. Drunk on the way his release paints your insides, how you can feel each thick spray coating your walls to claim you in the rawest way.

Logan pulls back just far enough to meet your gaze, his eyes dark and smoldering as he watches you squirm in his lap.

"You’re not tapping out on me already, are you?" he teases, his voice rough and gravelly. "I thought you were tougher than that."

A weak, breathy laugh escapes you, but it’s cut short when he applies just a little more pressure, making your thighs quiver. "Not tapping out," you manage between shallow breaths, your head falling back against the chair. "But you’re—fuck—you’re insatiable."

Logan smirks, leaning in to nip at the sensitive skin of your throat, his teeth scraping just enough to send shivers coursing through you.

"When it comes to you, baby?" he murmurs against your skin, the heat of his breath fanning over your pulse point. "Fuckin’ always."

A lazily smile takes over your lips as you tighten your core and push, the rest of Logan’s come leaking out over his fingers. Logan groans, pressing his forehead to your shoulder to try and ground himself.

His cock throbs where it sways heavily between his thighs, still hard and ready to go even after he just came. His hand slips down your body, thick fingers running through the creamy mess of come and slick to messily push it back inside you.

“Fuckin’ shit, honey,” he groans lowly, pressing his thumb to your clit. “You’re gonna kill me.” 

Before you can respond, he stands again, gently placing your trembling form back into the chair and dropping to his knees in front of you.

Your breath hitches, legs widening despite the way your pussy shakes with overstimulation, like you can’t help but spread your legs for Logan anytime he wants.

Logan smirks up at you from between your legs, his lips already ghosting over the inside of your thigh. "Look at you," he growls, voice low and filled with lust. "Still so needy."

The slick heat of his tongue runs along your folds, lapping at the mess he just made of you. You let out a sharp gasp, thighs trembling as your fingers weave into his hair, tugging him closer.

The sensation is overwhelming—the rough, demanding pace of his tongue as it swirls around your clit, teasing you, while his hands grip your thighs with bruising force. Keeping you exactly where he wants you, keeping you spread open for his tongue.

Your body arches off the chair with a loud cry, every nerve alight with raw pleasure as he feasts on you, his growls vibrating against your sensitive skin.

"Fuck! Logan," you moan breathlessly, head falling back as you try to keep up with the sensations he's pulling from you.

The heat that was pooling low in your belly reignites, stoked by the way his tongue flicks faster against your clit, each stroke sending you higher.

Logan doesn’t let up, his tongue delving deeper, drinking in every moan, every shaky gasp as he drives you closer to the edge. He moans into your pussy, his own arousal clear in the way his hips buck into the air, seeking any kind of friction.

You tug on his hair harder, desperate for more, for release. "Logan, please," you whimper, your voice barely above a whisper, thick with need.

"Atta’ girl," he rasps, his voice thick with desire as he watches your face contort with pleasure. "So fuckin’ pretty like this. You gonna give me another one, baby? Gonna come for me again?"

Every lick, every rough squeeze to your thighs, every teasing stroke sends you spiraling closer to that edge you’re dying to reach again. You can feel the heat radiating off him, his breath hot against your soaked skin and driving you wild.

“Logan, I—” You gasp, fingers tightening in his hair, urging him closer, closer, closer. “I’m so close—”

His eyes flick up to meet yours, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth, nose and jaw glistening in your juices.

"Give it to me," he growls, the rough rasp of his voice sending a shiver through your overheated body. "I wanna feel you come on my tongue."

It’s all the encouragement you need. With a strangled cry, your body tenses, thighs quaking as the orgasm crashes over you.

Logan keeps his mouth on you, tongue working you through every pulse, drawing it out until you’re trembling and gasping, your body boneless in the chair.

When you finally come down, panting and spent, Logan pulls away. With one last kiss pressed over your clit, he makes his way up your body, not dropping eye contact as he settles over you.

His hand comes up to your face, thumbs meanly hooking into either side of your cheeks to gently force your mouth open. You part your lips willingly, the heat still radiating between you, a mix of lingering pleasure.

Logan leans in, and the intoxicating scent of sweat and sex surrounds you as he spits what he collected from between your legs back into your own mouth. 

Your cheeks burn with shame, a broken moan ringing through the space between you. Your glassy eyes stare into Logan’s, his own gaze so intense and all consuming you fight the urge to squirm.

"Swallow," he commands, unwavering. 

You hesitate for just a moment, caught off guard by the pure audacity, but the way his eyes darken with hunger makes your resolve crumble. With a breathless whimper, you obey, tasting the remnants of your own pleasure mingling with his, the act both humiliating and intensely arousing.

Logan watches you closely, his gaze never straying as you swallow, a dirty smirk creeping onto his lips. “That's my girl,” he praises, his tone thick with satisfaction.

As the taste lingers on your tongue, you can feel the weight of Logan’s stare like a physical touch.

“Think you can handle another round?” he teases, his voice low and sultry. “I don’t plan on letting you off that easy, kid. Not with all that mouthing off earlier.”

You catch your breath, shaking your head in exasperation. “You’re relentless,” you whisper, a hint of laughter in your voice, though your body betrays you, already craving more.

“Only for you, baby” he replies, brushing the strands of hair plastered to your sweaty forehead behind your ear. “Only for you.”

tags are now in the comments! if you want to get tagged for any of my works just fill out this form!

mini nat's note: i started my period today chickens...that explains it...

[sunset-snowfall]

What I Don't Write

》 Smut

♤ Anything involving body fluids that aren't cum or blood

♤ I will write non-con and things like that, but they will NOT be written as healthy, no matter what

♤ Probably more to add when I remember

》 Dark Content

♤ Anything involving drowning

♤ Cannabalism

[letmetellyouaboutmyfeels]

I am incredibly serious right now when I beg you all, please, and if you have Twitter or Tiktok or whatever to please spread the word: click on an author's profile on Ao3.

You want to know if an author has written more? Want to know if they're still writing? Want to see more from them? Want to know if they've written a trope or kink or sex scenario you enjoy?

Click on their name. And look at their profile.

I cannot tell you how many times in the last six months someone has read a new or newer fic of mine and said they (a new reader who has read nothing else I've done) "can't wait to see what you do next!" I've written 50+ fics and over a million words already.

"I don't know if you're still writing..." click on my profile. I am. I literally wrote a 128k+ fic for that ship last month.

"Would you ever do X?" "Please do Y!" I already did. Click on my name and look at my works.

Archive of our Own is a library. It's an archive. Not social media. It is your responsibility to fight back against the laziness that corporate algorithms have trained into you.

Click my author name. Just click it. Just click it.

Before you demand more, or ask if a writer will do XYZ, or wonder if the author still writing, or anything - click on their profile. Click on the author's profile.

I'm not trying to be mean or condescending or anything like that. I'm just exhausted. It's disheartening and frustrating to repeat myself ad nauseam, because someone couldn't take thirty seconds to do the tiniest bit of work to see if I've written lately, if I've written more for their ship, or scan my works to see if I've written what they're asking for. Please. Please. I'm begging.

Click the author's name, and explore before you ask.

[tossawary]

This is petty fandom salt, BUT... I've been chewing on this phenomenon that I've been calling "Fandom's Darling". It is related to things like "Author's Darling" and "Mary Sue / Gary Stu" and "Protagonist Halo" and all that jazz, where one character gains a peculiar narrative weight in a story.

"Author's Darling" is when a writer has a favorite character, and the world and all other characters sort of get... warped to put the Darling in the spotlight. It's most noticeable in TV shows with multiple writers, when a character you personally like suddenly has their previous characterization destroyed to make another character look good somehow. Every other character might become weirdly incompetent. The Darling's feelings are treated as The Most Important Feelings in any given situation. The logic of the fictional world seems broken past suspension of disbelief in order to validate this one character's beliefs or skillset or some other fantasy. And so on.

"Fandom's Darling" is what I've been calling the pattern where a fandom essentially crowns a New Protagonist for their fanfiction stories (it's often a side character rather than the original protagonist, but it can also happen to protagonists). This character becomes the self-insert for all sorts of indulgent fantasies, gaining special powers or backstories, and/or becoming the focus of extreme whump, and/or hooking up with all the various hotties, starring in all sorts of tropey AUs, and so on. They're not always an obvious Mary Sue version of themselves, but the character's original personality and interpersonal relationships tend to get warped or dropped completely, and other characters tend to become a little flat around them. I call it "Fandom's Darling" because it's not just one self-indulgent fantasy fic (you do you! Have fun!) with characterization choices that I don't vibe with (I have neither the time nor the desire nor the authority to police anything, I am just venting), but rather a prolific mini-fandom of sorts revolving around this empty doll / fanon version of the chosen vessel character, so it becomes a little unavoidable.

I am salty about this (mildly frustrated) (imagine a soft sigh of disappointment before I just go do something else) because you are FUCKED if you actually liked the canonical version of this character and their interpersonal relationships. It's almost worse than liking an obscure character that no one cares about. There's about a thousand fics starring your fave, but maybe only about a dozen of them are actually rooted in any kind of recognisable canon.

[turnaboutstar]

THE TRIPS TO EUROPE TO SEE EDGEWORTH ARE ACTUALLY CANON????? I THOUGHT IT WAS JUST A RANDOM THING PEOPLE HEADCANONED

[aspiringwarriorlibrarian]

You know, it's kinda funny how much of high fantasy centers around kings and nobility and courtly intrigue considering that the archetypal high fantasy, Lord of the Rings, had the rather explicit moral of "saving the world is up to this backwater hick and his gardener because no politician, least of all inherited nobility, would have the ability to see past their own ambition and throw away a weapon". Oh sure, Aragorn is a great king and all, but there's a reason he's over there running a distraction ring while the hobbits do the real work. Sauron loses because he gets distracted by kings and armies and great battles (i.e. typical high fantasy stuff) letting Frodo and Sam sneak through his back door and blow it all to hell.

Just saying, maybe old Jirt knew what he was saying when he said that the small folk doing their best and holding to each other was more powerful than a dozen alliances and superweapons and we should respect him for it.

[mischievous-thunder]

Logie bear's full of adamantium and alcohol, Wade. What else do you expect?

[illusioncanthurtme--art]

Nsfw warning. Ford literally fucking bill under the cut. It's not like... explicit? You can't like... See. anything. It's so dumb. I'm playing this for laughs. It's for the bit guys

FUCK FOR YOUR LIFE, ASSHOLE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

(YOU DIE IN THE MINDSCAPE YOU DIE FOR REAL *lying*) This is so dumb but this is a scenario that kept replaying in my head when I started liking this ship. EVERYONE TALKS ABOUT FORD FUCKING THE TRIANGLE AND NO ONE COMMITS TO THE BIT!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Well thankfully, I have no standards. I drew this like a month ago and I was laughing the whole time. I think it was subconsciously inspired by the part in adams family values when debbie throws that bigass casette player in the bathtub.

This was on Patreon for a little over ten days, and now I'm releasing it to the world wide web, like a rehabilitated animal returning to nature. I sorta hemmed and hawed as to whether I should just leave it on Patreon, because it kinda seemed like it's home after a while. But when I was drawing this, it was always my intention to put it on tumblr. That being said, the "nsfw" stuff I've been making specifically for patreon is a little more... idk, obtuse? It leaves less to the imagination :'D So I guess this is fine.