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[dungeon-dishes-zine]

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[centaur-dreaming]

All fic writers have that one document in their drafts that would end their entire career, social life, everything if anyone irl were to find it

[bruciemilf]

I’m actually really sad I have to communicate this, but yall should REALLY consume fandom media created by actual, human people, not AI.

[petalsfordany]

thinking several thoughts

[sanatomis]

let’s go read fluff !

smut “aw, dang it!”

smut “aw, dang it!”

smut “aw, dang it!”

smut “aw, dang it!”

fluff . . . with smut “aw, dang it!”

[cowboylikeyouu]

there‘s no place like a girl‘s notes app after midnight

[therealjerma985]

Perfect Girl

Authors note: HI umm I’m sorta kinda terrified to post this but I’m in such a Logan/Hugh mood that I’m putting myself out there :3 feedback is greatly appreciated!! Also I still don’t really know how to use tumblr tbh so any tips with that is also greatly appreciated

(GIF from Pinterest)

Summary: Dick sucking. That’s it.

Warnings: SMUT. First time ever posting any writing I’ve ever done and like second time writing smut ever please don’t burn me at the stake, that good ol’ hawk tuah !!!!!!! (oral M! receiving), praise kink, afab reader and use of ‘girl’ by Logan, allusions to face-sitting, scent kink, a bit OOC for Logan mayhaps, I feel like I’m forgetting something else, blehhhhggghhhhghhghhhh

—————————————————————————

Logan was never a man of good fortune.

In fact, he’s pretty sure he’s one of the most unlucky bastards on the planet. At least, that’s what he usually tells himself.

The way your throat constricts around his cock betrays those thoughts right away. He watches you take as much as you can, breathing harshly through your nose, you look up at him as though he hung the moon and the stars in the sky himself.

God, he can’t get enough of you.

Babbling of praise and clipped groans are all that can leave his lips as you swirl your tongue around his tip, leaking copious amounts of pre-cum.

“My girl…taking me—fuck— so well. Want your pretty pussy to soak those fingers…then you’re gonna let me have a taste, huh? Gonna come down your throat, baby.” It takes him what feels like hours just to get those words out, but you react immediately nonetheless.

Logan’s heightened sense of smell was one of the things he considered unlucky about himself. Being surrounded by pubescent teenagers for most of the day was a nightmare, strong perfume and cologne from the adults assaulting his nose. Another thing that’s been proven entirely incorrect as he can smell it.

Smell you.

How dripping wet you are just from taking him, tasting him. Even before you started relieving the pressure you felt too. The familiar, sweet, enveloping scent of you. He can see it, how your hand bulges from under your panties, making furious motions.

He feels his eyes roll back, and he swears he sees his own brain for a second as you trace the prominent vein going up his cock with your tongue.

It was an early morning, beyond any reason for anyone in the mansion to be awake, and yet here Logan was. Insomnia was always a problem for him, the whiskey usually dampened it, and your pussy put him straight to sleep.

Unfortunately, you were away on a mission for a week.

You hit the shared bed hard, practically passing out as soon as you got back and finished a quick shower. Logan found it almost endearing, you looked so peaceful when you slept. A mess, but a peaceful mess. He brushes back a stray lock of hair from your face as you snore lightly, and he can’t help but give a soft, lopsided smile. When the hell did his luck start changing?

He decides not to dwell on it.

Lying in bed with you, he keeps an arm anchored around your waist, and with the metal weight, it was pretty much impossible to escape his cuddling. He nuzzles his face into your neck, practically like a lost puppy, and breathes out a sigh against your skin. He had missed you something awful.

The tickle of his breath makes you stir, mumbling a quiet ‘Logan?’ as you do your best to turn around in his arms, looking up at him. “You okay?” Your voice is heavy with sleep and he begins to feel terrible for accidentally waking you. “‘M fine, sweetheart. Go back to sleep.”

You did not go back to sleep.

Logan keeps a shockingly tender grip in your hair as you take him again, not forcing you down, but guiding you. He could be gentle when he wanted to be. He admires you through his falling apart, taking in your fucked out expression and how you lurch forward occasionally as you finger yourself. When you moan around him, he nearly full-body shudders at the vibrations. “Gonna come,” He begins, what he says next even takes him by surprise.

“Please. Lemme come down your throat. Please, baby. Need it.”

You falter for a second.

Logan was also never one to beg.

As quickly as you pause, you’re resuming and doubling your efforts, the begging giving you a strange sense of confidence.

Could smell himself on you, too. Logan liked it that way, you threw on one of his shirts after your shower, not even bothering to put on pants. Logan loved that.

His thread of restraint snaps when you fully sink down, looking up at him with those big, watery eyes. He lets out a groan—growing dangerously close to a whine—as he comes.

Down your throat like he said he would. Never breaks his promises.

That sets you off too, jaw going even further slack as you spasm on your fingers, a fierce orgasm washing over you. Logan feels like he could come twice over just watching the pleasure overtake you. He wants to see it for the rest of his life.

You both are slow to come back to earth but eventually you pull back, swallowing and standing, albeit in a rather wobbly way. Logan feels his arms shoot out before he even registers it, wrapping around your waist and pulling you forward to straddle his lap.

“So perfect.” He’s mumbling, not even to see that reaction you have when he praises you, but in genuine awe. Logan finds himself marveling at you, brushing his thumb across your bottom lip, where some of his cum leaked out. He pushes past your lips slowly, and you swirl your tongue around his thumb just like you did his tip. He's determined for you to have every last drop.

With feather-light motions, he brushes a lock of hair from your face, just like when you were sleeping.

“So…about that ‘please’ thing-“ you begin, and he groans. He’s not going to live this down for the next week.

“I liked it.” You shrug, chuckling at his grumbles, wrapping your arms around his neck and looking down at him with a small smile.

“…I’ll keep that in mind.” He huffs with what could possibly be considered a laugh before falling back against the bed, taking you down with him.

He can’t help but smile as he looks up at you, tapping your thighs and urging them to shift up and cage his face. “Still gotta clean you up.”

You just mirror his smile.

His perfect girl.

—————————————————————————

Ya that’s it 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️

[natt-writes]

Reblog so I can learn how crazy y’all are

[shummthechumm]

OPALINE IS FLURRY HEART TRUTHERS!!!! THIS IS HOW WE CAN STILL WIN!!!! (<--in denial)

[thesefallenembers]

do y’all ever write a poem about someone and then wonder if anyone has ever written one about you

[speculativepages]

A cute collection of fantasy icons for writers working on their next fantasy story or anyone who wants a little magic on their notion page. Find it on my etsy shop below!

I have plans to draw icons collections for other story genres too!! Which one should I do next?

[sophiphi]

Guys. GUYS. listen to me- kate carter is a natural brunette. no i’m not just saying that because daisy edgar jones has brown hair naturally, there’s a picture of young kate and her mom that is shown in the scene where she comes back home. I caught it on my second rewatch. I mean ofc you could chalk up her darker roots to it just being a dirty blonde but no, she really is a brunette.

Which brings me to this thought- I wonder what Tyler’s reaction (along with the others ofc) would be when they see Kate with brown hair. Let’s say her blonde dye was growing out enough for her to decide to dye it back. Maybe she does it when she went back to NY for a bit before going back to Oklahoma. Will there be chaos? Definitely. Will Tyler Owens get a heart attack? Duh. Like, imagine the possibilities guys, hellooo

[dangerdaysbigbang]

🗣️ HEADS UP, MOTORBABIES! 🚀

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[silverfanzine]

Are you interested in one of our themes? Then follow the Kaleidoscopic Absolution zine! Our Multimedia zine has welcomed all kinds of digital content creators!

Now in the Creation Phase!

Utopia

A future too good to be true

Imagine a world without strife or disasters. A place where Silver and his friends could live happily in peace… Without the responsibility to become a hero, how would Silver have lived in a world like that?

Dystopia

A future where everything went wrong

Imagine a world with a devastated environment or an iron-fisted government, or maybe caught up in an endless war… When it seems like everyone has lost all hope, how would Silver navigate the world at its worst?

Post-Apocalypse

A disaster-stricken future

Imagine Silver surviving Iblis’ reign, or a zombie apocalypse, or even a perpetual ice age… In a future so ruined to the point it could not recover, what would Silver's life look like?

Memories

Looking back to what once was

Remember what time periods Silver has traveled to in order to fix the future. From Sonic’s present to far far in the past… How did Silver's travels affect his friends and himself? Do they even remember it happening at all?

Rebuilding

Building a new world from what is left

Even a time traveler can’t prevent every disaster, but that wouldn’t stop Silver from trying to do good in the world with what he got! After all his efforts to save these futures, in what way can Silver move on and help rebuild the world? For my friends, and for our future, I’ll give it everything I’ve got! ◎ @all-zine-apps@fandomzines@sthzinecenter@zineapps@zinefeed@zine-scene Promo Art by @superemeralds and @firbetmakes

[raineandsky]

#128

“How’d that thing at the weekend go?”

The hero laughs with visible discomfort. “Ah, pretty good. Wasn’t too bad.”

The other hero turns to look at him incredulously. “Wasn’t too bad? I thought your kids had some big parts in that play or something.”

“Oh, yeah, they did. You know how kids are, though. Acting clearly doesn’t run in the family.”

The last the other hero had heard, the hero was ecstatic to be going to this play. Now, he’s folding his clothes and shoving them into his locker like the weekend wasn’t anything special.

“You feeling alright?” the other hero asks shortly.

“Yeah, why?”

“I don’t know.” The other hero leans against their locker as the hero fiddles with the code on his. “I was expecting you to be more… excited. Has something happened?”

“No, nothing.”

“You can tell me.”

“I don’t have anything to tell you.” The hero gives up and slams the door on his locker. It doesn’t shut. “It was a nice weekend. The kids did their play and it was as entertaining as it was a bunch of eight year olds misremembering all their lines. That’s it.”

The other hero watches him as he turns back to the bench, sifting through his bag. They consider pushing it, but they don’t get the chance before the locker room door gets flung open.

“Sorry I’m late!” calls the voice in the doorway. “Traffic’s a nightmare. Anyways, I know you’re dying to hear how the kids did—god, they’re stars. I took a video, look—”

The hero cuts himself off when he finally meets the eye of… the hero, elbow deep in his bag with his locker swinging open behind him.

“Oh,” the hero says faintly from the doorway. “You’re me.”

The other hero rounds on the hero inside the locker room. “Who are you?”

The hero—although maybe not now—stares at them like he’s shocked before nodding to the hero in the doorway. “He’s the imposter.”

“He is actually trying to tell us about his kids,” the other hero says flatly. “I’m more inclined to believe he’s real.”

The hero glances between the hero in the doorway and the other hero next to him for a long second. “Look, I didn’t think I’d have to research his weekend plans, okay?”

That’s as good as a confession to the other hero. He’s already reaching for the handcuffs in his pocket—thank god he thought to take them out. “Okay. Well, you have the right to remain—”

He’s barely started before the hero bolts, the bag thrown mercilessly to the floor. The hero—the real hero—moves after him, the other hero close behind as their fake hero throws himself into the corner. He stumbles back against the wall, trapped.

“There’s no need to run,” the other hero drawls.

“I’m not running,” the fake hero say. He smiles, his back to the tile, like this was all part of the plan. “You can’t run through walls.”

And with that he leans back, the wall swallows him, and he disappears.

“He has my powers, too!” the hero cries, pointing rather uselessly at the now empty corner. “That’s not fair!”

The hero launches after him, straight through the wall. The other hero, cursed with the power of super strength, is left to take the long way round.

By the time the other hero gets there the hero already has the imposter in a tight hold. “What an idiot,” the hero says severely. “Let’s get him into a cell, huh? Whoever he is.”

“Almost had you, didn’t I?” the imposter says with a bright laugh. The other hero doesn’t like it. “Imagine what a league of us could do. Who would you trust? Who’s real? Who’s fake?”

“Oh, shut up,” the hero snaps.

“Stay on your toes. I’m far from the only one,” the imposter continues. His eyes bore straight through the other hero when he says, “Next time, it might be you.”

[galefanzine]

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