#Original Novel

[skolomorphic]

In my dreams, everything was burning. A voice was calling out for me.

Summoned forth as the intended sacrifice of a mysterious ritual, a young man finds himself in a new world with the face of his attempted killer, Acacius Duval, as well as a looming death curse if he doesn’t carry out Acacius’ last will. However, while Acacius has left many looming problems, he didn’t leave behind the most important piece: his memories.

That would have been too convenient for navigating a world stitched together from apocalypses.

Fortunately, after only a few life and death trials, Acacius’ unintentional replacement is sent away to the prestigious Nithemoore Academy, where he can learn everything he needs to know about the world and gain the power to grasp his freedom…

At least, if the tracks of history don’t doom him first.

First three chapters out now! 130k words pre-written, and updates every Saturday. Hope to see you there!

read on github books | read on neocities

[stardust-falling]

Grappling with his newly-restored memories and the truth about his past, “Song Mingzhen” struggles to balance what he now knows with the expectations of those who now call him family— and all the time fearing what might happen should what he knows be revealed to the world. Despite his wishes to move forward, he finds himself drawn back toward the world he left behind, and all of the turmoil that comes with it. Meanwhile, without any solid leads, Ning Feiyun’s search for the missing demonic tool remains fruitless, leading him to depart from Yinshan on a quest for answers— even if finding them means treading dangerously close to treason and heresy. When a young rogue cultivator’s disappearance leads Song Mingzhen on a new investigation of his own, the two cross paths once more, entangled within the web of lies and corruption that stretches across the festering underbelly of the cultivation world. But touching a single strand of a spider’s web is enough to alert the hunter— and the pair might well find themselves caught in its sights.

I'm delighted to announce that Ghosts of the Heart: The Furnace That Burns Away Illusion will begin serialization this April. A new chapter will be released every Tuesday starting next week. 

Though this second volume will be for paid subscribers only, every five chapters will be bundled into a collection that is available for a one-time purchase of $3 USD, and smaller preview snippets or scenes may be posted from time to time. If you enjoyed reading the first volume, please consider joining my outer disciple tier for $2 USD a month.

Many thanks to all of my patrons! Your support is a major part of what has made this novel possible.

Read the full first volume for free! ( AO3 | Patreon )

Clean version of cover art below the cut：

[time-to-write-and-suffer]

Hey come read my book!

Wattpad | RoyalRoad | Tapas

Sidra's sister has been kidnapped, taken right in front of her eyes by the earth itself. Convinced that she's somewhere out there, Sidra knows that the only way to find her is to travel beyond the iron wall and into the dangerous north - the land of the wicked fae, where no human lives beyond the first night. Wielding little but an axe and her brutal temper, Sidra has to survive encounters with deadly kelpies, bloodthirsty pixies, and trolls hungry for human flesh. But dealing with the prideful and vindictive high fae without falling prey to their ruthless politics will prove a greater challenge. To navigate their machinations without losing her life, Sidra needs help from one of their own. Enter Valerien, a stunning but unpleasant fae who binds Sidra with an oath in exchange for his aid. But what this promise entails, and why he's forced to live isolated in a crumbling manor, remains a mystery. Only one thing is clear: Sidra and Valerien cannot stand each other. As they struggle to reconcile their differences - and similarities - their animosity threatens to tear the alliance apart, and doom her sister to a life of slavery in a court of beautiful vultures.

[calchexxis]

The final chapter of my Post-Canon Lightcannon fic.

First thing's first, don't worry, it's not the end of Jinx & Lux's story in this dream, just the end of the first part. I had always intended one fic to follow my version of the events of the Lux comic (at least timeline-wise) and then for another fic to follow the actions of Lux (& Jinx) during the timespan of the Mageseeker game, which followed Sylas, but reintroduced Lux as having founded a new city to protect those mages who wanted to be free of Demacia AND the violence of the rebellion either because they weren't able to fight, or didn't want to.

Secondly, for everyone who followed along with this story of mine, and even made art for it, thank you so, so much. I love that so many people were enthralled by this random passion project of mine.

If you want more Lightcannon fics, just check out my body of work on Ao3 as I have written something like 70+ Lightcannon fics of varying lengths, and many of them are complete or even completed series.

If you love my writing and truly want to support me, I'd be eternally grateful if you checked out my original novels. You can find them on Barnes & Noble, Rakuten Kobo, and my latest release, Sacred, can be found on Amazon.

Again, thank you all for following this crazy challenge of mine to write and post a chapter a day. Thank you for following my girls through their ordeals.

And always,

Cheers.

[r-f-m-writes-books]

A Lark In a Hollow Chapter One

Really, she doesn't have a choice.

Lark barely remembers the huge shadow of a man sitting beside her in the dead heat of Mrs. Poppy's office at the children's home. He is silent, stoic, and completely terrifying.

Christopher Hollow.

Muscled.

Six foot five.

Storm blue eyes.

Dog tags outlined under the straining stretch of his black tee-shirt.

"Lark," Mrs. Poppy says, gently, "you're happy with this arrangement? You want to go with your Godfather?"

There's no money left for her to live off until she finds a job - if she finds a job.

Her Dad is dead.

Lark doesn't have a choice.

Lark Douglas didn’t know who Christopher Hollow was when Mrs. Poppy brought his name up to her on a hot Saturday afternoon in her office. The additional details that he had served with her Dad in Afghanistan and was her appointed legal guardian and Godfather did nothing to help jog Lark’s memory.

      In fact, it was a full week after Mrs. Poppy informed Lark of Christopher Hollow’s existence that the girl finally managed to scrounge up a single, short, fuzzy memory of the man.

         She was home.

         The door to their flat was open, the old ceiling fan had been turning in slow circles over her head. It did nothing to fight against the mid July heat that was so stifling and muggy it made her skin stick to the linoleum floors. She had sat on the couch playing with Labrador, her stuffed toy dog, when Mom walked in with someone.

        Lark was five, she thinks, and she hadn’t paid attention to anything that was being said, or looked at who had stepped the room after her mother. She only glanced up from where she was making her stuffed dog do backflips off the worn-down couch cushions when big, black boots stepped into her vision off the edge of the sofa.

       The man who stood in front of her was tall, wearing camo pants and a fitted grey tee-shirt. His face was hard to remember, but Lark thought he had sandy brown hair and the start of a thick brown beard. He had crouched down, setting aside a battered black duffle bag, looking at her like he expected something.

     Lark had only stared at him.

      Mom’s voice had a strain in it when she spoke.

     “Say hi to Chris, baby. He’s come all the way from the airport just to see you.”

     The man spoke before Lark had the chance. He had a deep, rough rumbly voice.

     “Don’t worry her about it, Lori. Been two years. I’d be surprised if Pet remembered me at all.”

      Pet.

      That was the only memory Lark had of Christopher.

      She wasn’t even sure it was real and not just something she had made up in the recesses of her mind as an unconscious effort to help herself fill in the gaps and feel less uncertain.

     She had lots of memories like that.

      Memories no one else could verify. Memories she wasn’t sure happened, but couldn’t shake as being real.

      This was what led Lark to where she stood at the top of the worn flight of wooden stairs.  Seventeen years old, dressed in clothes that didn’t belong to her, feeling entirely unsure of what the future would hold.

      Seventeen, and only three weeks and four days shy of her eighteenth birthday.

     It was ridiculous.

     Stupid, even.

     Why couldn’t she just wait it out at the girl’s home?

     Why was Mrs. Poppy was obligated, by law, to reach out to relatives Lark had never even heard of and negotiate with them down the phone, asking and then, after the eighth rejection, pleading with each of them to come and pick her up?

      “Just a month - no, no, you wouldn’t have to commit to adoption, Mrs. Tanner - not at all. I am only reaching out because Lark is your niece, and I am sure you want the best for her -”

     The list thinned, name by name. Lark saw them each time Mrs. Poppy opened the manilla envelope with her initials on it, glancing over the struck off phone numbers and feeling nothing.

    The rejections didn’t surprise her.

    She knew from lived experience how reluctant people were to help a stranger.

     It took less than half a week for them to reach the last one.

     His name.

     Christopher Hollow.

     He was who Lark was waiting for as she hung onto the banister, her dark eyes fixed on the panes of frosted glass in the door, anticipating seeing a shadow blot across the panels when he stepped onto the porch and rang the buzzer.

     Floorboards creaked.

     Lark moved too late when Mrs. Poppy stepped out of her office that stood at the side of the stairs. The stacked blonde beehive of her hair bobbing into the girl’s view as Lark tried to scurry back out of her sight.

    Too little, too late.

    The kind wrinkles around Mrs. Poppy’s eyes doubled and deepened as the sound made her look upward and spot Lark.

     “Lark, there you are! I was just about to come and find you, dear. Nip down into my office for a moment, I’ve got some things I want to discuss with you before Mr. Hollow arrives.”

    The old stairs squeaked loudly as the girl walked sheepishly down the grossly worn-out blue carpet runner, rounding the curved banister at the bottom to follow Mrs. Poppy into her office.

    It was sun warm inside, light spilling over the faded hardwood floor and shiny varnish of the big, brown desk, highlighting the dozens of ring-marks stained into its top by mugs of coffee past. Mrs. Poppy rounded the desk, having to skirt sideways between the edge of it and the rows of heavy metal file drawers that flanked the room on all sides.

   Taking her perch in a black wheely chair, the woman gestured for Lark to sit in one of the two big, green, retro velvet sofas that faced her desk.

      Sinking down into her seat, Lark folded her hands in her lap and looked at the woman, waiting to be spoken to. She had been thoroughly taught from a young age that she was to be seen and not heard. There had also been plenty of occasions when Lark wasn’t to be seen or heard. Those were moments when her half empty pink, princess wardrobe came in handy.

        Mrs. Poppy placed a pair of up-swept cat eye spectacles on the tip of her tall, gently crooked nose, and took out a notepad. It was one of dozens she had, this particular piece of stationary sported Lark’s name on its front, written in black pen and then broadly underlined in purple marker.

       “Miss Douglas today is a big one for you. How are you feeling, hon? Excited? Nervous?”

        The soft slip of her southern accent calmed Lark some as she fought against the urge to fidget, keeping her fingers still in her lap.

        “Excited, Ma’am. Dad didn’t like to travel much, so seeing the Appalachians sounds like a real adventure.”

        Lark stuck a quick smile onto the end of her lie. She had rehearsed it in her head a hundred times since she was told the good news a week before.

        Christopher Hollow wanted her.

        He was driving the whole way down the coast from his home in the Appalachian Mountains to come and collect her. Lark couldn’t even comprehend where the Appalachian Mountains stood, just that they were stupendously far away.

        Mrs. Poppy grinned at Lark, genuine and radiant, as she wrote something in fast scratching cursive over and empty line of the notepad.

       “Always such an optimist, Lark. I’m sure Mr. Hollow will be delighted by you.”

        Lark’s left thumb twitched. When she smiled, it felt tight in the corners, “I certainly hope so, Ma’am.”

        And she truly did. Lark knew the way men behaved when they weren’t delighted by her.

~R.F.M~

         A fist gripped long, brown hair tightly enough to tear dozens of strands out of Lark’s scalp as she was dragged down the hallway by her head, the girl’s frame stooped almost to the floor as she clawed at the hands restraining her.

       “Fucking little bitch coming to steal from me? Think you’re slick, huh?”

         In honesty, Lark did.

        She had stolen from the man before on countless occasions, rummaging through the contents of his worn leather wallet, fishing out loose coins and dollar notes that wouldn’t be missed. Before, he was always too out of his mind to realize, so Lark had gotten greedy.

        Twenty dollars was a lot of money to people like them. She was foolish for thinking she could snatch it away without his notice.

       Lark didn’t know his name, or his age, or anything about him other than the fact he bought pot on Thursday afternoons and left the door to his apartment wide open with 90’s music playing full volume while he sat out on his balcony in a beat-up pink recliner, back to the living room, smoking.

         By all accounts, the man wasn’t very smart. But he was still a man, a man much stronger than Lark.

[gaslightgallows]

Hey Writeblr, show us your original project's AO3 tags.* So far for mine, I've got:

Terrible Decisions, PTSD, Bad at Relationships, Seances, Ghosts, Historical Romance, Psychological Horror, Haunted Houses, Artists Behaving Badly

*like if you were going to post your original whatever how would you tag it to let people know what to expect

[blradley]

A powerpoint introduction to Liesmyth!

(I swear the next one will actually be in Comic Sans... shout out to @incandescent-creativity for popularizing this medium!)

Anyway...

Do you wanna read a dark, Norse-inspired Adult Fantasy?

Do you wanna read about queer gods causing mayhem?

(literally every single character is queer lmaooooo)

Do you wanna support a queer, multiply disabled author?

Look no further than Liesmyth! We're out on subs at the moment - so, pretty-please reblog this powerpoint if you like the concept! Let's prove to all those prospective publishers that there's an audience for my book!

Image IDs:

All eleven images are power point slides.

Image 1: Title card reading 'Liesmyth: or, how Sigyn ruined everything, by B. L. Radley'. The words are displayed over a person in (...vaguely) Viking-era garb, against a green background. Only a slice of their torso is visible.

Image 2: A picture of an ash tree against a green, cool, mountainous scene. In a yellow text box, words read: Welcome to a world inspired by Norse mythology, where witches can climb through the cosmos using the boughs of an ancient ash tree, and any magic is possible, so long as it is cast with a suitable sacrifice. Yes, it’s basically a Viking Isekai. Shoot me. Then, a quote in italics: I know an ash tree named Yggdrasil, Nine realms cradled in its loamy arms… Prophecy of the Voluspa, verse 19

Image 3: Meet the characters! An image shows a white woman in Viking-era dress, leaning against a fence, looking pensieve. She is introduced as Sigyn Narisdottir. Her quote is: “It’s a God-eat-God world out there…” Below this, there is a description of Sigyn, reading: Just a nice, normal Christian woman from a nice, normal Christian village. (Totally not a gay witch, haha no, why would you suggest such a thing.) After her father is killed by his own God, Þórr, Sigyn has only one chance to free his trapped ghost from eternal torment. She must confront Þórr and slay him in combat. But how can a mortal defeat a God? Traits are bullet pointed at the bottom of the page. Hers are: Ruthless, ambitious, cunning, and desperate.

Image 4: The next character description is of Loki. His quote is “Monsters lost their menace when they huddled crying in the corner. And when you might use them for your own ends.” His image shows a clean-shaven half-naked man sat against a scandinavian-esque backdrop of rugged rocks and dried grass. He is white, with curly red hair, and is looking curiously off to one side. His description reads: The savior of the Gods, or their bane? A framed innocent, or a prophesized murderer? A victim, or a monster? Loki is a man of juxtaposed polarities, not least of which being that he isn’t a man at all. At least, not when it doesn’t suit him. Sigyn knows he’s dangerous. But in the viper nest of Ásgarð’s royal court, he might be her only ally… or her downfall. His traits are: Sly, wily, and 'not to be trusted'.

Image 5: The two characters introduced on this slide are Freyja and Thor. Freyja's image is of an Arab woman staring directly at the camera, expression serene, curly hair falling around her face. Her quote is: “Goddess of beauty. Goddess of desire. All who saw Freyja fell a little in love—but though silken longing stirred in my belly, I wrung it dead, reminding myself that Freyja was a goddess of bloodshed, too.” Her description reads: Queen of the Vanir, Freyja is an ancient and powerful goddess who takes Sigyn as her indentured servant. Her traits are: Proud, cold, and vicious. On the opposite side of the page, Thor's image shows a white, bearded man in an iron helmet glaring into the camera, viking sigils scrawled across his face in charcoal. He is shadowy and menacing. His quote is: “I saw a rainbow flash over a church. I saw a broken sky. I saw the end of everything.” His description is: Eldest prince of the Æsir. Murderer of Sigyn’s father, and countless more beside. The living embodiment of berserker rage, he is the strongest god around – and next to inherit Ásgarð’s throne. Unless Sigyn can stop him. His traits are: Violent, mighty, and 'a storm made flesh'

Image 6: introduces Angrboda and Baldr. Angrboda's image shows a white woman with blonde braids, wearing chain mail and warpaint (black streaks over her face), with a huge axe over one shoulder. Her quote is: “ ‘Sigyn, meet Angrboða: witch of the Ironwoods, god of a lost nation, relic of an elder age, master of magics that not even my darling brother dares dabble in, cosmopolitan worldwalker, mother and father of my children, and—if I might say so—a practitioner of truly superlative strap-game.’ ” Baldr's image is of Assad Zaman, looking wistfully, beautifully, into the camera. His quote is: “Out strode the most beautiful man in all the Nine Worlds. His gentle smile, his topaz eyes, his black curls, the fawn velvet of his cheeks… Oh, warmth radiated from him. I looked at him and felt, for the first time in oh-so-very-long, safe.”

Image 7: introduces Saga and Menglod. Saga's image shows a Black woman in darkness, with facial tattoos and a nose ring. She raises her eyes to the camera, pulling back a dark hood, her expression difficult to read. Her quote is: “In another version of this tale, I stayed with Sága. We travelled to Ljósálfheim every winter—one for every six of Vanaheim’s years—and raised foundlings as our own (for ever were the elvish freer with their loves than those of my world). But in this tale, we reached Freyja’s palace, and I had a dream.” Her description is: Prophet, witch, worldwalker. The woman Sigyn left behind. Menglod's image shows a Black woman smiling slightly, slyly, as she looks back over her shoulder, her natural hair framing her face. Her quote is: “If I tended the hearth in Freyja’s chamber, I left ash on her floors. If I swept the ash, I left streaks invisible to any eyes but Menglǫð’s. If I breathed, I did so far too loudly and regularly, and if I were a considerate soul, I would stop.” Her description is: Freyja’s attendant, and Sigyn’s main rival for her favor.

Image 8: So, like, wtf happens? Set against a background of dramatic red-on-black fire is a description of the book's plot, as follows: Crumbling kingdoms. Hungering Gods. One woman who will end the worlds. Loki, Norse god of fire and mischief, will be tortured until the end of time. And he shall deserve every minute. At least, that’s how the story goes. Behind every great man is a great woman, and behind every genderfluid trickster-god is a spouse who darns his socks, plots his victories and keeps his secrets, as well as her own. After a thousand years of agony, Loki looks to the woman who kneels by his side – his jailer, his torturer, his wife – and asks for a different story. Hers.

Image 9: a continuation of the plot from the previous slide, this time with a cool blue lake as the background, with a viking-style ship floating atop its surface. The image feels less calming, more unnerving in its stillness and the lack of human life. The description reads as follows: Down with the gods. So swore Sigyn, a young mortal woman, after watching her father die at godly hands. One millennium later, she has joined the same pantheon she once despised. Now, as Ragnarǫk approaches – the end of all Nine Worlds – Sigyn narrates the tale of the Norse Gods’ fall, and her own.

Image 10: Themes. A picture of two crossed axes accompanies a list of themes, which are: 1) Revenge. What is a life worth? And what would you give up, to avenge the life of someone you love? 2) Corruption. Can you ever fix a broken system from the inside? Or will it, inevitably, consume you? and 3) Divinity. What does it mean, to become a god? What might you lose along the way?

Image 11: A picture of Loki as a woman, with red hair, dressed in a Viking-style dress and sat on the edge of a Scandinavian dock, accompanies text that reads: This book is for you if you like... Queer-led, queer-written fantasy, with main wlw and nonbinary characters! Court drama and political intrigue, mixed with a sizzling dash of mythology! A prophecy that cannot be averted; a tragedy that cannot be outrun…

[sterekshipper-writer]

I'm writing an original YA novel on a young girl who learns she is asexual. I wanted to ask for opinions from others who are asexual and are comfortable answering.

[shepherds-of-haven]

ok ok ok ok freaking out rn!!!! I JUST finished we have always been here (like 5 minutes ago, I needed time to process ong) and I cannot praise u ENOOOIUGHHHHH!!!!!

The whole book was steadily good, but by the time I hit the halfway point and onward it was SOSOSOSOOOO GOOD???? Like the unity rain may as well have passed over me because I FELT. A change bro. I had to read the entire second half in one sitting because I couldn’t put it down. You absolutely NAIL the claustrophobia and I rarely ever see an author blurring the lines between human and machine so effectively and beautifully. Also that kind of “what even defines a human?” is like my favorite thing in fiction ever so AUGGG UH GUYGHH

The betrayals felt REAL and actually had me GASPING!!! The whole lore with Daley and Taban, expertly integrated in just to show up second half was CHILLING ME bro you had me actually throwing the book!! I was screaming!!!!!

And btw Jimex is the best boy ever! Thought I’d add that he’s so silly and unperturbed lol I love him!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Also it’s so interesting to see a story from the perspective of someone who’s so out of the loop. I love seeing Park’s confusions and frustrations. It feels so realistic and sympathetic; you had me shouting at the characters myself for lying and hiding shit!!

We Have Always Been Here will FOREVER be on my shelf as infinitely rereadable, I love love love love love what you have made with all of my heart. Thank you for sharing your story with the world because I now don’t think I can live without it. I NOW WILL PLAY SHEPHERDS HAVEN TRUST

Ahhh this is some time later, but I just wanted to say thank you so much for this incredibly excellent message, I screenshotted it so I can go back and read it again whenever I feel like I'm writing nonsense! Thank you so much for taking the time to read WHABH, to enjoy it so thoughtfully, and to take the time to share how you felt about it! It's truly messages like these that keep writers going XD So thank you so much, and I hope you enjoyed Shepherds if you played it as well! 💖

[joannekwan]

Shifting Lanes a Werewolf Romance is now officially OUT in paperback and ebook!

If you want a signed copy bundled with a bookmark, 2 stickers, and a spicy print, head on over to my gumroad store!!!

[ekholocationn]

I WROTE A BOOK!!!

Today an announcement dropped on my Youtube channel about my upcoming original novel, Cthalia! You may have heard it mentioned on this account (I can't shut up about it lol). Here's a link to the announcement:

Multiple things got revealed in this video, one of which being the official Tumblr for the story, @cthaliaofficial !! Feel free to follow this account for updates, art posts, sneak peeks, and more!! The pinned post will also give more info about the story, and a link to the Discord if that interests you!

I'm VERY VERY VERY excited to be making big announcements like this again for Cthalia!! Thank you to everyone who has supported me through this, I can't wait to finally start releasing this thing soon >w<

[skolomorphic]

proof of existence: chapter 4

arc 1 | sub-arc: unexpected guest | 3.4k

I saw shapes emerging in darkness. Was it a hallucination from lack of sensory input? These vague shapes, rippling with impossible colors, twisted around me. Goosebumps rose on my skin as I was struck with the strong conviction that they were alive. And they were watching me.

our protagonist returns to the moon path realm.

read on github books | read on neocities

[stardust-falling]

After five hundred years of peace under the rule of the great clans, a powerful faction of rogue cultivators known as the Nameless plunged the world into war. To put an end to the bloodshed, Song Mingzhen— one of the great clans’ most promising young cultivators— confronted the leader of the Nameless and defeated him. This victory, though, did not come without a cost. Song Mingzhen was gravely injured during the battle, losing his memories and much of his cultivation and vanishing from the public eye for five years.  Not long after his reemergence, news of an escaped prisoner and a murdered clan leader arrive from the neighboring region. Song Mingzhen must now join forces with the aloof and uptight Ning Feiyun to bring the fugitive to justice. But when the clues begin to point toward a wider conspiracy, and Song Mingzhen’s forgotten memories begin to resurface, it becomes clear that neither past nor present are quite what they seem…

I redrew and redesigned the cover for the first volume of my original danmei novel, Ghosts of the Heart, while preparing to begin serialization on the second volume.

Read the full first volume for free!

( AO3 | Patreon )

Clean version below the cut：

[impala-dreamer]

An excerpt from my short story erotica collection

Daydreams and Darker Desires by Rebekah Jordan

A compilation of sultry tales that will heat up even your loneliest nights. Sixty short stories of romance, passion, and kinky thoughts guaranteed to make your pulse quicken.

Available on Amazon Kindle and Paperback

First Thing

He’s always ridiculously hard first thing in the morning, especially when he’s been curled against her all night; arms and legs tangled, feet battling for more blanket. Something about sleeping beside her, even if he’s exhausted and hurting, has his body ready to go, and Mark greets the sunrise with a husky moan as he rolls over onto his back.

Most days, he shuffles off to the bathroom without waking Corrinne, takes a shower, maybe tugs one out, his forehead pressed to the cold tile, spitting out the spray as it falls into his panting mouth. Some mornings he ignores it, saving it up for later, wanting to give her a full ride once the work day’s done.

But the best mornings are when she wakes up before him.

It doesn’t happen often, but sometimes the sunlight sneaks through the bedroom curtains at a perfect angle, poking her awake, and Corrinne rolls over to find Little Mark poking at the blanket.

She slips down under the covers, as carefully as she can as not to wake him fully, and opens her mouth over his stiff cock, breathing out a heavy warm breath. Mark stirs a bit, his thighs tensing, and she leans forward, wetting his boxers with her tongue. Corrine draws her lips up and down the thin cotton, watching in delight as his stomach tightens and his hips start to move.

“Fuck, baby…” he breathes, still not quite awake, but getting closer.

That’s when she sneaks her tiny fingers along the elastic of his shorts and peels them down, immediately licking at his cock once it’s revealed. Mark moans and fists the sheets, his sleepy mind reeling as she takes him in, quickly finding a rhythm that makes his heart race.

He tosses the blanket back when he’s close, wanting to look down into her bright blue eyes and stare at her swollen lips while he cums, pushes a soft hand through her long blonde hair as his balls tighten in her palm.

“Good fucking morning,” he jokes, laughing off the ecstasy and pulling her up for a snuggle before the day begins. “You’re awesome, you know that?” His lips tickle her ear as she curls into him.

Corrinne smiles and gives his big arm a squeeze. “Sames.”

Find all my original novels on Amazon

Support me on Patreon for access to multiple stories a month, sneak peeks, discounts, requests, and so much more!

[judace-blackstar]

Here's the link to a story I've been working on, which I hope you enjoy. Currently, three of the chapters are complete and posted, and a fourth is busily being typed away at as we speak.