#chris writes

[chris-continues]

Trusting your mer lover to help you float, knowing the stigma against mer people

Chest to your back, chin atop your head while their fingers linger on your forearms. You’re stargazing, gesturing at the constellations and explaining why sailors use them- your neighbor was fond of taking you on his fishing trips and you learnt over time.

“Are humans so peculiar with their navigation?” They chuckle with amusement, their gills fluttering beneath the surface.

“Are mers not?”

“You travel with your pod, or you just.. know.”

[chrisisvbun]

thank you. logan howlett x gn reader.

synopsis: you punish logan.

cw: sub!top reader, dom!bottom logan, teasing, begging, mention hickeys and bites

words: 602

a ten nsfw chapter series masterlist.

"Just the tip."

Logan scoffed. "C'mon, bub—"

"I'm serious, Logan." You frowned, still holding yourself on your forearms, looking at him.

You had your shirt opened, your abdomen covered in hickeys and bite marks, and nothing else on. Logan was laying between your legs, his jeans out and his boxers low enough for his hard cock to spring out, red and swollen, his hand was around its base after pumping himself a few times.

"You can't be." Logan scoffed. "What? Is this a punishment?" He said skeptical.

"It is." You noticed how his look changed at your serious tone. "You can't just grab me around whenever you want, I always tell you that." Now he looked like a scolded kitten. "You wanted me now? This is what you get. Just. The tip."

Logan almost pouted, he thought that maybe if he whined a bit, looked a bit pathetic, you might give in. But that look in your face told the opposite, so he sighed. He was so desperate and he knew you were taking advantage of that.

"God dammnit." He cursed under his breath, holding your hips to slowly slide the tip in, he frowned at the tightness of your entrance, biting his bottom lip as he finally got it in. You held his shoulders tightly, gasping until he finally sank it. As he looked at your face, he tried to slide in more, you looked at him with a frown.

"No more." You bossed and he sighed dramatically.

"You are unbelievable." He leaned down to kiss and bite your cheek as he began to move his tip back and forward inside of you.

You purred at the soft feeling, tangling your fingers on his hair and suddenly pulling it when he began to move in circles, his fat tip brushing against your walls.

You felt him shiver on top of you, gasp in your ear, holding himself back to obey your orders. You almost wanted to mock him, get your revenge for all the times he teased you, but you were nicer than him, and seeing him like that slightly broke your heart.

"What do you want?" You asked low.

"Please, please, let me— let me get inside." He begged in almost a whisper.

"You are already in." You teased and he huffed.

"More... More, please. Hurts..." He whined.

You smiled, caressing his face as he looked up at you with glassy eyes. You brushed your noses together, looking at him.

"Are you going to behave from now on?" You asked gently, looking into his eyes. He nodded eagerly, squeezing your hips.

"I will, I will behave, I won't— fuck— I won't grab you around whenever I want, I promise." He whimpered, leaning down to try kissing your lips, but the grip on his hair made him stop, making him let out a whine. "Please..." He begged breathless.

"Hm..." You pretended to think as you lowered your hand between your bodies, wrapping your fingers around his base to gently let him sank more.

He moaned instantly as you let him in more. He sank in slowly and set a slow yet rough pace as he hugged your body tightly, whining and whimpering.

The amount of joy and pleasure he was feeling, he couldn't even dare to put it into words. His arms wrapped around your body as he fucked into you, whining and babbling as he got rougher and rougher.

When he got close, he looked up at you, glassy eyes shining with joy, vulnerability, and pure pleasure, his chin wet with his saliva.

"Thank you, thank you..."

[tales-of-panacea]

So I didn’t get a chance to draw pride stuff for my characters as I’ve been on mandatory bed rest for almost two weeks due to horrible leg burns and not really been able to draw much this month because early onset carpel tunnel is just a blast to deal with. But! I refuse to be deterred from celebrating pride in some way so here’s some CANON queer lore for my characters that will be relevant in the final of the book! (In bullet points of course)

* My character Solstice is nonbinary and is always referred to by completely gender neutral terms, they use they/them pronouns

* the deity of sorts is referred to by it/its pronouns

* solstice/Evren are a completely asexual older married couple (as in sex repulsed asexual) this is very important to me

* All Fae use they/them it/its as well as a variety of neopronouns depending on the fae

* fae and halflings can reproduce completely asexually if they so choose

* my main character (Volkov) is romantically leaning towards other men

* there will be a heavily implied to be lesbian werewolf at some point in the story

That’s all (for now) HAPPY PRIDE!!!!!!!

[chrisrambles]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

Chapter 2 of 3 is out!!!! Once all three are out, I’ll start posting art and random shiz about them!!

[caramelchrispops]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

have a merry sakyo christmas and a happy takanew year everybody especially @andro-dino

[godsofwoes]

i am becoming a part of this world achyls blinded my vision as my holy body falls in the ground you put me in the ground - you hold me back and you wrap my neck with a rope telling me to be good. that i am a good lamb. that god is watching, my child. god is always watching. i kneel down, searching for your touch. and i lay there where you left me waiting for god to appear to me. but there is an angel coming towards me and i open my arms — wanting to embrace god's grace. i offer my body to you and i beg you to forgive me for my greatest sin. you tell me that i am forgiven but you hold a knife and you split me open and you peeled me open with your holy hands just like an orange & you see the hunger and rage inside; all the delicate petals are growing inside my guts all together and from the cracks of my unforgiven body i will create a god from my ribs. thus, this vessel is already perished and unholy, and i opened your mouth with all my ten fingers a pomegranate was down in my throat as an offering i rip a few things with my teeth, o, beautiful regrets, in an all-consuming moment i am remembering. & i flinched in the name of sin & the sound of your weeps.

[chrisrin]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

Statement of Dave Strider, regarding a series of near-death experiences. Original statement given May 16th, 2010, audio recording by Jonathan Sims, head archivist of the Magnus Institute, London.

[arctic-oceans]

Heads Up 7 Up/ Current WIP

Thank you for tagging me @mariahwritesstuff :)

You can find her post here!

Rules (Heads Up 7 Up): Share seven lines you've written recently and tag seven people

Rules (Current WIP): Post something you wrote for your current wip, from the last week. if you haven’t updated it in some time, here’s your chance!

This is about Wolves Gone Wild!

-

Aston grit his teeth, not knowing how to handle the fondness Crawford treated him with because he was not fragile. He had spent two years trying to contain all of the anger boiling inside of him and today it threatened to spill in violent urges and shaking fists.There was water boiling on the stove, bubbling, steaming, building up pressure and it was at a tipping point at the edge of the pot. Aston couldn’t turn the heat down. Gone were the days people grieved his father. In the village, it was a unanimous vote that they wore black the first month. The Orphanage’s windows were covered in dark panels out of respect, and his grave was to be decorated with flowers each weekend. As things quieted down though, life moved on as it always had, and Oliver Metcalf was eventually forgotten.  

So it didn’t happen as often anymore, that someone would look at him, and see the ghost of his father in his place. After all, it was a strange thing, being two men at once; one dead, one alive. Every now and then though, he would buckle under the sheer weight of it in his consciousness– it was a sick feeling curdling in the pit of his stomach that Aston couldn’t fathom despite his best efforts. Grief took various forms throughout a lifetime; like a broken mirror that shattered in pieces, each sharp edge reflected a point in the past where Aston had hit rock bottom. 

That first day, all it had taken to ease the fire burning inside of him was a punch. The numb disbelief in the way Kenta stared at him right after was unexpected, and it made pure adrenaline rush through his veins. It was almost salvation. Aston had stayed awake many nights studying the memory–the shift of weight in his legs, the swing, the satisfying crunching noise Kenta’s nose made as it broke on impact when it collided with his fist– hoping it would give him the same thrill it once did; but something had changed.

What once was restlessness turned into a drinking problem. Aston would snatch old bottles of aged wine from the cellar and run away at night. He’d race through the wheat fields for hours until he was panting for air, and his limbs heavy with exhaustion, and once he decided he was lost enough he’d drink himself to oblivion. He’d do anything to help him forget. He preferred the little world in his head anyway.

-

Soft tagging @imaginativemind29new @withlovelunette @obviousknife @wolfsong02 @albatris @tabswrites @cream-and-tea @cherrybombfangirlwrites @captain-kraken @faelanvance @bardic-tales @ladyazulina