OMFG

Check out my ongoing comic Crow Time. It has crows, and also neat pantheons of epic beasties.

pussy inspection with old man logan.. and he’s wearing his reading glasses.. omfg

cw: smut (nsfw), implied age gap

it’s late in the evening. a small bedside lamp illuminates the faint rose blush on your cheeks caused by the scene in front of you. it’s logan. he’s right between your legs, the hairs on his beard tickling your inner thigh, his face so close to your bare pussy, you can feel his quiet breathing on your skin. he’s wearing his glasses, of course he is. 

with two fingers, he spreads your glistening folds and blows lightly on your clit, the action making you shiver and instinctively try to shut your legs. but he pries them open again, his whole frame now between your thighs. you’re forced to face him, you just can’t look away. this feeling of being splayed out for him like a meal, vulnerable and nude, is erotically nauseating, addicting.

“you’ve been a good girl, right?” logan asks, slicing the tension in the air. you swallow and nod with a quiet “mhm”, not trusting your voice to speak.

in response, he places a soft kiss on your clit, the action eliciting something wild in you, a feeling of obedience, an all-consuming thought that this is what you were made for. to please him and get rewarded.

the cool wind blows through the open windows, making the curtains sway lightly and goosebumps erupt on your legs. logan lifts his gaze, looking up at you through his glasses which were resting carefully on the bridge of his nose. he gently runs a reassuring hand up and down your thigh.

“let me warm you up, baby.” he speaks softly.

and you oblige, you give yourself to him. perhaps the unconventional dynamic of your relationship was unnerving, a little too much for such a young thing like you. but that’s exactly what he was here for - to help you. so he rushes to your aid, releasing all of your pent up tension for you. you mold like putty in his hands, his beard covered in your juices, your limbs limp by the end of the night, the only time you speak being when you come undone on his tongue, whispering his name like a prayer.

He is Kenobi

Professor x: Wow it really has been peaceful around here lately :’) Maybe my plans are finally work-

Magneto, freshly broken out of prison for the fifteenth time and headed for the x mansion to bother Charles again:

In The Dark

Rating: 18+, Explicit Pairing: Din Djarin x F!Reader Wordcount: +2K Summary: “We almost died” sex. Warnings: Some violence. Some smut. Some smut in a cave.

His hands shake as he hovers over you, leather knuckles running over the split skin of your cheek. Your eyes blink open - blurred vision - soot in the corners of your lids. Your lip is swelling. The air is ripe with the carcass of fire, the oxygen turned chemical and grim. 

“Din,” you whisper and it’s terrified, ragged and torn up. He touches you, keeps just touching, skating his palms over your skull, your chest as he checks for gashes or fractures. “Din,” you repeat when you try to sit up. 

“Stay still. I need to - I need to check you over. Your head hit the ground pretty hard.” Even with the modulator, even through the cool and indifferent coating, his voice sounds distressed - notched on a tremble. That was close - that was inches - seconds - 

He murmurs your name as he lifts you up to scan your back, to search for anything. He presses his fingers to your temple and you flinch, a sharp, throbbing sting exploding forth. When he pulls his hand away, there’s blood on his gloves. He sighs, his enormous, hunched form deflating beside you. 

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I dont understand gay artists who dont draw body hair like chest hair isnt the crown jewel of a man. like having a proper forest of hair on a chest, thick enough to run your hands through and detangle with your fingers and place your head against a man's hairy bosom and fall into the most peaceful of slumbers and. what was i saying.

Finché l'uomo continuerà a cagare il cazzo alla Natura, la Natura sarà ben lieta di cagare il cazzo all'uomo

~Barbascura

There's something so wonderfully, perfectly autumnal about the Lord of the Rings and even the Silmarillion. It is profound and beautiful and filled with splendor, but also so melancholic and tragic and bittersweet that it makes your heart ache.

The elves are leaving for the Western Shores and magic is dying, but there is something so beautiful about it, even as it slowly withers, like the changing leaves in the autumn trees. There is beauty even in the loss, life in death, joy found even in the midst of pain. It is fair even in the fading.

"There is just one person inside my head. One person I can't stop thinking about. It's you." - "Testone", 2016 by Andrea Salvatori

Happy June 14th