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shawnxstyles · 7 months

Note

heyy ik you might be busy but can we get a harry fluff smut fic this weekend pls 😣

five course meal

warnings: smut; f-receiving (oral)

note: this was a few weeks ago, but why not try to sedate you for a little? here’s morning smut with a hungry harry :)

—

“baby,” harry breathes, lips ghosting over your neck as his breath fans over your skin. “so pretty.”

harry felt the need to praise you as often as possible: in the morning, before work, on the phone, after work, in the car, on date nights especially. he wanted to honor you because you were so special to him, special to the world. even when you didn’t feel your best, harry still wanted you to know how much he cared for you in those tough times. harry admired you more than anyone in the world.

“harry, please. i need you.”

“yeah? my sweet girl needs me?” his wandering hands crept up your large t-shirt and fondled the skin underneath. the rigid texture of his fingers rubbed the underside of your breasts, causing you to wiggle underneath him. “where do you need me, love?

“everywhere, h. please, no teasing.” you tended to plead for harry not to tease often. even though your body adored it and got off on it. you liked pushing your limits because the finale was always beyond blissful.

“no teasing? well that’s no fun,” he ran his fingers over your pebbles nipples before placing delicate kisses on your smooth torso. “are you going to deprive me of watching you fall apart? hm?”

“n-no,” your response came out as a stutter when his raspberry lips attached to your breast, swirling his tongue over the peaked bud. while distracting you, his hand sneaks its way to your panties. it was natural for your legs to widen when his hand approached you, obeying his silent command.

as his mouth pops off of you, the pads of his fingers massage you over your panties, causing you to mewl from his warm touch. you began to crave that sensation to be filled, the feeling tingling in your lower belly.

it’s not long because your panties are absolutely soaked, desperate arousal seeping through. that’s just what harry was waiting for; for you to be whiny and achy until you were gushing needily for him. that’s when he finally decided to drag your underwear down your unsteady legs.

harry’s large hands spread you open, smoothing over your thighs and practically prepping for his meal. his curious thumbs widen your cunt as you gasp, your wetness dripping onto the bed.

“so wet f’me, baby. love seeing you like this.”

you looked like an absolute wreck when his magical hands caressed you, held you, overpowered you—something inside of you was constantly bubbling and foaming, and when he touched you, it exploded into lustful, loving flames.

“gonna have a taste now, alright? i haven’t eaten yet.”

“‘cause you didn’t even let me get out of bed—” his mouth began slurping all of your dripping juices before you had a chance to finish complaining. your whines were converted into paused gasps and moans, fingers gripping the sheets beneath you. “i-i could’ve made you breakfast.”

he lifts his mouth off of you, your wetness around it, “shh, i’m eating now.”

and with that, he resumes his meal like it was his last, sucking on your clit momentarily before thrusting his skillful tongue inside of you. the constant switching has your orgasm approaching you fast. there’s also a slight burn from the small gruff he has built up around his lips, but it only riles you up more. as his short hair scratches your skin, moans spew from you without limitation.

“harry, i’m really close,” you warn, feeling the tightness pressing in your lower belly. your hands crawl up to his brown locks, twirling his hand intensely. it only urges him to press and lick harder into you, his own hands pushing you wider.

your hips convoluted towards his mouth, so much, that his forearms had to press them down vehemently.

overpowered.

fingers plucking your own breast, your orgasm fires up inside of you. that volcano in your belly explodes all over harry, and he doesn’t even flinch. he continues to lick, suck, drink, and devour you like a final goodbye. even when your cunt was sore and aching from overstimulation, he never removed himself from you. he was just too immersed in the taste of you, forever his favorite flavor.

“too much, h. too much,” you whined, but made no move to push him away. you could feel the smirk rising on his mouth against you when you gasped a breath as he inserted his tongue again.

finally, when he pops off of you, your clit is throbbing and your heated again. reading your body language, harry begins to blow cold air over your cunt, his line of fire directly on your clit. your hips jerk, extremely sensitive from the first orgasm.

“love when you’re all sensitive. you’re s’responsive.”

“you’re such a tease,” you roll your eyes before going to shut your legs. but harry stops you, placing his hands on your thighs.

“i never said we were done. i’m still eating, darling,” he kisses the trembling insides of your thighs that are irritated from his slight scruff. “you know i love m’five courses.”

you were in for a long morning.

—

#shawnxstyles #harry styles #harry styles smut #harry styles fan fiction #anon request #harry styles one shot #harry styles blurb #harry styles fan fic #harry styles fluff #harry styles the album #harry styles fine line #love on tour #treat people with kindness

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dotster001 · 3 months

Text

WIP List

My Docs are a mess, so I'm going to use this to keep my wips organized, while also giving you a sneak peak at what's coming. And if you want to cheer me on, go for it! If you want to ask about something, or see a spoiler, just send me an ask! I love to share!

This is not the order they will be completed.

Updated Weekly: Elder God

Palia

Good Morning Palia!-Tish x reader, Reth x reader, Jel x reader, just a basic morning with your favorite Majiri

Ayakashi Romance Reborn

Kuya x Reader. He's been a little too flirty lately

Ensemble Stars

Kaoru and natsume x reader with bad sleep schedule

Ikemen Prince

Gilbert x reader- you end up with nine wingmen that you never asked for.

Sequel to No Touching

Sequel to Light of Life

Jin Grandet as a Yandere

Clavis Lelouch as a Yandere

Court of Darkness

Dating Fenn, and realizing you're also in love with Violet

Consorts x curvy reader

Continuation of "Sherry's route"

Fenn meets Asmodeus

Honkai Star Rail

This will be the one and only fic in this fandom, but I got angry and started one about how Blade and Kafka suck, and I'm divorcing them because how dare neither of them come home.

Obey Me

Asmo and aro Ace reader in a qpr

Fallen for you, the next chaper

Various Characters x ex gifted child reader

The Next Chapter of the Sheep Saga

Morosexual- Mammon x reader. Levi has to hold back his nausea as he plays wing man between you and his stupid brother.

Mammon gets overprotective of you after you die

Twisted Wonderland

Sam Romance HC's

Vice housewardens QPR hcs

The Bible of Elder God...poor anon didn't realize what they started 😁

Memories of Wonderland, the next chapter

Mc overblots

An Unhealthy Obsession- Yan! Rook x reader. Someone has been following you.

First years x Malleus' Brother Reader

Characters break up with you for someone else and regret it, part two

Le chasseur d'amor, the next chapter

For Tuna, the next ending

Ace x reader- A sleeping curse uproots your entire life. Luckily you got a great friend who'd do anything for you.

Yan Neige x reader- he hasn't actually done anything wrong. So why do you hate having him around?

The next depression fic- it's Jamil's turn to take care of you during an episode

Ace is tired of your self hatred getting in the way of believing he loves you

Domestic moments with Trey Clover

Among us, the next chapter

Sebek 's Parents give you the talk

Jack's puppy dog eyes

A Crowley fic that idk how to describe yet

Idia gets teleported out of your game

#palia #wip #ayakashi romance reborn #obey me #twisted wonderland #ikemen prince #court of darkness #ensemble stars

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yourlocalstranger123 · 11 months

Text

`~°☆《EVENT》☆°~`

×~PERMANENT EVENT~×

TYSM FOR 1000 FOLLOWERS <3

This is just a random event of mine! Hope you enjoy ☆⌒（＊＾∇゜）

Edit: THIS IS GONNA BE A LONG EVENT BECAUSE I DONT THINK IMA FINISH THEM ALL....AT THIS POINT I DONT THINK IT SHOULD BE CALLED AN EVENT NO MORE

Note: I might not do or delete some. Sorry 😅 also none of these are sub readers, so if you request me something about this, make sure to put sub reader if you want to ty <3

Information/2nd note: I actually don't know much information bc either my friend requested it and they didn't know/tell me or I'm new to the manhwa or just litterally didn't know about it so please tell me if one of them is actually under aged. I don't wanna be illegal-

(This is really random, so don't pay attention. It's just a pin of something for me to look at...)

Xx×—you can request things for the event—×xX

Small ask? (Sneak peak for mermaid miguel part 2)

—o—o—o—o—o—o—o—o—o—o—o—o—o—o—

—Ideas–you–can–use—

{1.}● Deadpool in Spiderverse?!

`~°•☆~`♡°•—`~°•☆~`♡°•—`~°•☆~`♡°•—`~°•☆`

—Spiderverse—

{1.}● Hobie Brown × Reader 《Slight NSFW》

{2.}● Mermaid Miguel × Reader

{3.}● Mermaid Miguel × Reader (part 2)

`~°•☆~`♡°•—`~°•☆~`♡°•—`~°•☆~`♡°•—`~°•☆`

—Yandere—

`~°•☆~`♡°•—`~°•☆~`♡°•—`~°•☆~`♡°•—`~°•☆`

—SPIDER-MAN × GENSHIN?!—

?¿?¿?¿?

`~°•☆~`♡°•—`~°•☆~`♡°•—`~°•☆~`♡°•—`~°•☆`

—The sumeru group—

{1.}● Cyno & Tignari x Reader 《NSFW at the end》

[Only has part 1, not fully done]

—o—o—o—o—o—o—o—o—o—o—o—o—o—

{2.}● Alhaitham & Kaveh x Reader

`~°•☆~`♡°•—`~°•☆~`♡°•—`~°•☆~`♡°•—`~°•☆~`

—doll—

{1.}● Albedo

{2.}● Aether

{3.}● Scaramouche

`~°•☆~`♡°•—`~°•☆~`♡°•—`~°•☆ ~`♡°•—`~°•☆

—sugar daddy/mommy—

{1.}● Zhongli

{2.}● Mammon

`~°•☆~`♡°•—`~°•☆~`♡°•—`~°•☆~`♡°•—`~°•☆~`

—Manhwa/Manga/Manhua—

{1.}• The Virgin Witch [chapter 129-130] 《NSFW》

{2.}• The Virgin Witch [chapter 126-127] 《NSFW》

{3.}● Scenario [picture is from 'the villainess refuses to flirt with the male lead]

—▪︎□▪︎■▪︎—•○•°●°¤——▪︎□▪︎■▪︎—•○•°●°¤—

—Manga—

?¿?¿?

`~°•☆~`♡°•—`~°•☆~`♡°•—`~°•☆~`♡°•—`~°•☆`

—all dressed up for me♥︎—

—Lingerie—

{1.}● Beel

{2.}● Belphie

`~°•☆~`♡°•—`~°•☆~`♡°•—`~°•☆~`♡°•—`~°•☆`

—character ai—

{1.}● Merman Xiao part 1 《YANDERE? Xiao》

{2.}● Merman Xiao part 2 [Slight NSFW?]

`~°•☆~`♡°•—`~°•☆~`♡°•—`~°•☆~`♡°•—`~°•☆`

—Special Reader—

{1.}● Incubus/succubus reader! [Any character x Incubus/Succubus Reader]

`~°•☆~`♡°•—`~°•☆~`♡°•—`~°•☆~`♡°•—`~°•☆`

—Specific fics—

??¿?¿??¿

`~°•☆~`♡°•—`~°•☆~`♡°•—`~°•☆~`♡°•—`~°•☆~`

—Requests for the event

None

`~°•☆~`♡°•—`~°•☆~`♡°•—`~°•☆~`♡°•—`~°•☆`

—random—

{1.}● Lucifer + spanking

{2.}● gorou + collar/leash

`~°•☆~`♡°•—`~°•☆~`♡°•—`~°•☆~`♡°•—`~°•☆`

—pain kink! 《Moachist》

{1.}● Blade

{2.}● enmu

`~°•☆~`♡°•—`~°•☆~`♡°•—`~°•☆~`♡°•—`~°•☆`

Sagau + Sahsr

?¿?¿?

`~°•☆~`♡°•—`~°•☆~`♡°•—`~°•☆~`♡°•—`~°•☆`

—Yandere—

`~°•☆~`♡°•—`~°•☆~`♡°•—`~°•☆~`♡°•—`~°•☆`

—Genshin Impact—

Xx×—♤°•◇•°♧♤°•◇•°♧♤°•◇•°♧♤—×xX

—Honkai star rail—

{1.}● Kafka + Blade × Reader

{2.}● Mc [Caelus/Stelle]

{3.}● Blade + Jing Yuan × Reader

{4.}● Himeko x reader 《NSFW》

Xx×—♧♤°•◇•°♧♤°•◇•°♧♤°•◇•°♧♤—×xX

—Demon Slayer—

{1.}• Muzan's forms

Xx×—♧♤°•◇•°♧♤°•◇•°♧♤°•◇•°♧♤—×xX

—Chainsaw Man—

{1.}• Idea for the start? (Part 1?) Sub Denji x Dom! Male reader [Reader is taller than him] 《NSFW》

Xx×—♤°•◇•°♧♤°•◇•°♧♤°•◇•°♧♤—×xX

—obey me—

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shakingcryingwriting · 10 months

Text

Who would a reader a pjo×obeyme! Crossover fic? Cuz I'm writing it

It's completely plausible, especially with the theatrics of the pjo mulitverse i.e., kane chronicles and magnus chase

SUMMARY: MC is an unclaimed demigod at Camp Half-Blood, a long-term resident of Cabin 11, and a former member of Krono's army. One night, they go to bed and see Camp Half-Blood for the last time

Notes: you/yours/they/them; you are Mc, ofc; takes place somewhere between Last Olympian and Lost Hero (closer to Last Olympian); kinda went headcanon-y with the brothers but pfft who cares

Warnings: Spoilers for both obey me and Pjo; cussing I suppose

Camp Half-Blood hadn't felt this foreign since your first year.

Then, everything was fresh and shiny, new and exciting. Each cabin felt like a grand temple; each camper a hero of legend. You hadn't been able to hold back your ogling eyes and wide-ranging curiosities.

You could remember the jolt of excitement from the first time you hopped on a pegasus or the first time a faceless peer had dropped a broad sword in your hands. You could remember the terror-fueled adrenaline from your first time playing capture the flag, being ambushed by a few Athena kids while you were guarding the flag, or your first time facing a slobbering, snarling hellhound on the one quest you'd been allowed.

Now, tension flooded every crowded room and dripped from every uttered word.

The war was long since over, the shrouds long since burned. Dinner was held in the same pavilion; songs were sung around the same campfire. And yet, as fall neared ever closer, shadows still lingered:

In the eyes of war's witnesses.

In the silence between words.

In the empty spaces left behind by loved ones.

It was ever prevalent sitting on the porch of Herms's Cabin with no company but the cricket chirping at your feet and the consistent rocking of the chair in which you sat.

The last breaths of summer tickled your cheeks and tousled your hair. The setting sun was a dim echo beneath your closed eyelids. Training had turned your muscles into putty. The day had been hot and sticky and sweat still clung to all your nooks and crannies. You would have to head down to the showers sooner or later, but for now, on the cusp of slumber with the night's chill setting in around you, you could relax.

Of course, you appreciated the rest; who wouldn't?

But it would never be possible if Camp Half-Blood was at its peak.

Only a few campers could be seen on the green: A boy on his knees in the dirt outside the Demeter Cabin; Two girls holding hands as they headed off toward the volleyball court; A young girl tending to the central hearth, and you, of course. In the distance, the Stoll brothers were trying to push each other off the rock wall, and even farther away was the distinct sound of Clarisse La Rue giving someone a piece of her mind.

There were others, of course, there were others, but in a moment like that, you couldn't help but feel emptiness.

"Mc"

"JESUS!"

You nearly jumped out of her skin. You turned to find a familiar blonde girl with grey eyes at the corner of the cabin smiling at you.

"Spoke ya?" she asked.

"Yes!" you exclaimed, then quickly added, "Of course not!"

Annabeth Chase laughed, a sound you'd quite missed during your time in... Nevermind.

Annabeth hoisted herself up on the edge of the porch, not bothering with the stairs. "So," she started, "Percy and I are thinking of sneaking out and heading to the beach tonight."

"Uh-huh," you drawled, watching her trace the wood patterns of the porch with her finger.

"We plan to get some swimming in before the summer ends," she glanced up for your reaction, and when you said nothing she continued with "Do you want to come swimming?"

"And third wheel for you and your boyfriend?" you scoffed. "No thanks."

Annabeth's face reddened ever so. "He's not-Well ... You wouldn't be third-wheeling," she said.

You gnawed at your bottom lip for a moment, thinking. You'd missed Annabeth the past year, you really had. Before the war, you'd been the closest of friends... Then you picked Luke over her...

You both wanted things back to normal. And normal was getting up to no good that Annabeth would otherwise frown upon. So sure, what the hell?

"Great," Annabeth's smile was brighter than the sun at noon. "I'll see you then. Around 12 ish?"

"Sure," you smiled back, though your tired body hated the idea.

Annabeth rose from her spot just as the dinner horn blew in the distance.

She glanced over her shoulder at you.

You heaved a dramatic sigh before attempting to stand from your chair. A long groan came out instead as your back ached, locking you in a hunch for a moment too long.

Annabeth laughed again, "Need a hand, old man / lady?"

"Shut up," something in your knee cracked as you made your way down the few stairs the porch had to offer.

Annabeth looped her arm through yours, either for comradery's sake or because she was fully giving into the elderly bit, you'll never really know. Together, you headed off for the dining pavilion.

Dinner was the same as any dinner, at least from the past couple of weeks. Quieter than it should have been, but still bustling with excitement for the upcoming capture the flag game that Connor Stoll was quick to remind you of the moment you sat down.

"Hear Athena's got a new magic item up their sleeve," he said before your ass had even hit the seat. Travis slid into place on the other side of you.

"Yeah, right," he scoffed before leaning in so only you and Connor could hear, "If you ask me, it's a loada shit. They probably just started that rumor to get us on our toes."

"Yeah, say that when they hand us our asses Friday," Connor rolled his eyes.

This conversation continued all the way up to the sacrifice hearth. You'd never been quite sure who to sacrifice to, and seeing as it was weeks after the war and you were still unclaimed, you doubted you ever would, but you dropped in a nice buttery roll anyway.

Dinner went by quickly, filled with endless chatter and argument. Soon, campers were draining out of the dining pavilion and flooding into the amphitheater.

A campfire was already going and Apollo's kids were already roasting marshmallows. Everyone filed into their respective section, sitting under the banner of their cabin. Some went straight for the smores first, though.

Quite full from dinner, you took your seat far from the center of the Hermes section. On one side, there was the slightly more crowded Hephaestus Cabin, and on the other was the solo Hades camper.

You'd seen Nico before the war, but you hadn't known him to be a child of the death god. It was nice to see he'd been claimed. When your eyes met, you flashed him a friendly smile. He quickly glanced away, his cheeks almost flushed in the firelight, and gave you a tentative wave back.

One of Apollo's sons scooped up a guitar down by the fire and spit out a few experimental notes before jumping into the fan-favorite song I Am My Own Great-Great-Great-Great Grandpa.

The music had not gotten better while you were away.

But you sang along anyway, specifically when Connor Stoll, singing his lungs out right next to you, nudged you repeatedly with his shoulder and nodded encouragingly. By the third song, you were giggling and singing just as bad as he was.

Eventually, the day's activities got the better of you. You shouted to Connor over the ruckus that you were going to bed, he called you a prude, and you headed off.

Camp was much less welcoming in the dark. Sometimes, past the light of the periodically placed torches, you wondered if you'd see a hideous face or a pair of glowing eyes peering out at you. Of course, something like that was ridiculous. Camp Half-Blood was safe. The only safe place for you. You shook your paranoia off as you approached Cabin 11 once more.

Sometimes, it was jarring seeing the inside of Cabin 11. You'd done so so many times, but nearly two summers ago you'd accepted the fact that you would never see it again before you ran off into the night, hellbent on getting revenge on a parent you didn't know. Even now, it felt like stepping into the past rather than another room.

You made it over to your little spot on the floor. After the war, demigods had been claimed much more often, but before that, Travis had joked that you were a traitor and should keep the floor. You'd taken it a little too seriously and by the time a bed was free, more Hermes campers had been claimed. So, the floor it was.

You knelt down on your bedroll, contemplating that much-needed shower. Was it worth it if you were going to swim later anyway? You decided against it and against putting actual pajamas on, too. The shorts and tee shirt you wore would be fine. You were more or less taking a nap, not really sleeping.

You flopped down on the bedroll and melted the moment your body was wrapped in a blanket. You were going to set an alarm for yourself and put on a sleep mask (let's face it, those Hermes kids would barge in and turn the light on whether you were sleeping or not).

Instead, your eyes closed and sleep took you.

#obey me #obey me mc #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me satan #obey me shall we date #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #percy jackson #obey me headcanons #pjo #riordanverse #pjo fanfic #pjoxobeyme #crossover fic #obey me fanfic

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artists-ally · 8 months

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{Flatline} OFC x Harvey Specter

Just a little sneak peak of what's coming tomorrow tehe :D also I made a playlist for the vibes of this fic/series if anyone wants to listen while they read (highly recommend)

Tagging ~ @maxdamax @thenebean9 @ashcosmo @babyruthcandy-blog (you all liked my original post so I'll keep you updated. If you do, or don't, want to be tagged on the real fic, lmk!)

*this is a little spicy, no smut but things are heating up*

~~~~~

“Claudia.” His voice commanded, stopping my movements. I held still on the couch, drinking in his stare. “Stay.”

“Mr. Specter I really should-”

“Harvey,” he bit out a little harshly. “Stop calling me Mr. Specter.”

“I’m sorry. Harvey, it’s late.” He just nodded, taking a sip from his glass. “And?”

“It’s been a long day and I think we should both go and get some much deserved rest,” I spoke quietly, resuming my nail picking from earlier.

“Do you really want to leave?”

It was such a loaded question. Yes, absolutely I wanted to fucking leave. But there was something deep in his eyes, deep in his voice that made me want to stay and explore. My heart was hammering in my chest. I couldn’t keep my eyes off him, no matter how much I wanted to look away. It was impossible.

“I don’t think you do,” he answered for me. “I told you I was going to help build your confidence.”

You never told me how, jackass, I thought. I swallowed, nothing going down, but I did it anyway. Harvey threw back what was left of his whisky and reclined, knees far apart, fingers drawing patterns on the arm rests of the chair.

“Come here, Claudia.” What? “You heard me.”

Shit, I must’ve said it outloud. If I thought my heart was racing before, it sure as hell was halfway around the world now. Legs trembling, I rose. Why the fuck did I stand up? It wasn’t too late to make a beeline for the door and pray he didn’t catch up. Then again, it wasn’t like I could escape him, we worked in the same fucking building. On the same floor.

When I came to a halt, a few feet in front of him, he held out his hand, palm up. As I put my fingers in his grasp, there was nothing I could do. He yanked me to him, other hand catching my hip as I collapsed into him with a yelp.

“Straddle my thigh,” he ordered. Something about the way his voice went down my spine made me obey. With extreme hesitance, I moved one leg on each side of his, lowering myself down. I didn’t dare put all of my weight down. And he knew it because his hands came up to my hips and forced me all the way down.

“Sir, what are you-”

“Do not call me Sir unless you are ready to deal with those consequences.” His fingers dug into the exposed skin on my thigh, eyes full of his pupils.

“Harvey, what are you doing? We shouldn’t be doing… whatever this is,” I tried to defuse the situation as best I could, but there was such a seriousness written in his features I wasn’t sure I could sway him. Maybe I didn’t want to, either.

“How does it feel?” He asked.

I blinked, “H-How does what feel, Harvey?”

He smiled at the use of his name on my tongue. I hadn’t really ever called him by his first name.

“To have one of the most powerful men in the city underneath you, bent to your will?”

#suits #suits tv #harvey specter #mike ross #donna paulsen #louis litt #jessica pearson

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venusimi · 2 years

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Weee~ Sneak peak for a new obey me fic I'm writing!! It's Simy x MC!! Star-crossed lovers au~~~

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me simeon #obey me simeon x you #obey me simeon x reader #obey me simeon x mc #obey me fanfiction #obey me fic #obey me ficlet #obey me fanfic #obey me fic spoilers #simeon x y/n #simeon x mc #simeon x reader #simeon x you #star crossed lovers #star crossed au

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0nlythrowharrybeaux · 2 years

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SNEAK PEEK for "Unavailable"

This is a new fic I'm working on. A while back someone requested a dark Harry fic and it just wasn't coming out and now it is!

WARNINGS (for the sneak peak): 18+ (I beg of you minors, DNI), therapist x client, inappropriate relationships, attraction to unavailable people, manipulation, aggressive sexual advances - some of these things may be triggering to some people!!

This snippet isn't that dark but still, read at your own risk!

Taglist: @victoria-styles

“Ummm…no, I wouldn’t say I feel nervous with you.” She stated and he licked over his lips as he took her in for a moment. It made her heart pound in a way that she hadn’t felt in a while now. Then he stood up and approached the couch she was occupying one side of. He then sat down on the other end of it, his eyes still locked on hers.

“What about now?” He asked and she shook her head. He then moved to middle seat, beside her, “And now?” He asked again, her heart was beating wildly. From here she could smell his cologne and see his handsome face up close. Her pupils dilated, her body’s way of communicating that she was excited and captivated by the man before her, it didn’t go unnoticed by him, nevertheless, she shook her head, “Be honest.” He challenged her and she exhaled shakily.

“Yeah, it makes me a little nervous.” She confessed. He hummed and reached his hand towards her and settled it at her waist as his face came in close to hers. So much so that the tips of their noses brushed and she could smell the fresh mint on his breath from the fucking gum he was always chewing.

“And now?” He asked and she bit down on her lip, her eyes focused on how close his body was to hers, “Hey, be a good girl and look me in the eyes when I’m talking to you.” He demanded and her entire body fluttered when he said that and she had to obey him, “Are you nervous now?” He asked again and she nodded, “Use you words.”

“Yes.” She breathed out.

“Why?” He asked her, leaning in closer so that their lips almost touched.

“Because this is…wrong. We’re not supposed to be doing something like this.” She said.

“Am I to believe that if I were to reach into your panties and feel over your pussy it wouldn’t be all hot and sticky for me?” He asked, his lips skimming against her own and she wasn’t sure what to say, “Answer me.” He demanded and she shook her head.

“I can’t do this. We can’t. We shouldn’t.” She said shakily.

“Obviously. But do you want to?” He asked her and she bit down on her lip to suppress her moan. She was turned on beyond belief, “What if I told you that I have a wife and kid waiting for me at home? Would you want to then?” He asked and she shook her head, “You’re a liar.” He stated and she was feeling conflicted and unsure about what was happening but it was so fucking hot, she wanted to know how far he was willing to take this.

“M’not lying.” She defended herself.

“Yeah, you are. I just know that if I told you that my wife neglected me you’d be halfway there. What would really get you there would be if I told you that from the moment I saw you I was just captivated by you. That I’ve never seen someone so fucking beautiful. That she doesn’t compare to you. That I would never cheat, but you’re the exception.” He said and she whimpered.

“Th-that’s not fair, Harry.” She said with a frown and he felt a little guilty for a moment. She was right, he was being a manipulative piece of shit, but he wanted her so fucking bad

#sneak peek #harry styles fanfic #harry styles #dark harry #0nlythrowharrybeaux

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azeils-writing · 2 years

Text

Commission and request guidelines

——-

Requests~>

~Fandoms-

Genshin

IkemenVampire

IkemenRevolution

Tears of Themis

Moriarty the Patriot

Mystic Messenger

Obey Me

Creepypasta

Rules:

-No incest or pedophilia

-I don’t write non-con/forced

-I write GN!Reader, if you have a specific gender you want written about, please go to the commission section

-I write SFW, with a hint of suggestive words. If you want NSFW, please look at commission section.

-If you have headcanons you wish me to write, send an ask and I’ll gladly do it

-For a whole fic, please refer to commission section

Commissions

Fandoms~>

Previously mentioned

Rules:

For commissions, please be very specific.

Like previously mentioned, I don’t write incest,non-con, or pedo works. Don’t bother requesting.

I will write for any character with any reader gender.(ex: ch+fem, ch+male,ch+nonbinary,etc.)

For a short one shot, the price will be 4-6 dollars USD. (Ex:3000-4000 words)

For longer one-shots, the price will be 7.00+USD.(Ex: 4001+ words)

For full fanfics, the price will be 10-20 dollars.

To clarify, I will give a short sneak peak to my work to any consumer. That way, you can decide whether to pay for it or not.

#commission

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fantasy-dating-sim-trash · 3 years

Text

SO IM FINALLY GETTING AROUND TO WRITING THE FIC IDA I've HAD FOR OVER TWO WEEKS ABOUT SATAN

AND I WANTED TO SHARE A SNEAK PEEK

So i hope y'all enjoy

Its from MC'S POV

This is not where it starts or anything and I might change it but I hope y'all enjoy

U thirsty SATAN SIMPS

Enjoy 😏😏😏😏

Tags: @books-and-catears @satanbestboi

EDIT: ITS NOW OUT! (click here)

#obey me #obey me shall we date #shall we date #obey me satan #satan #satan obey me #holy shiiiiiiit #why am i like this #obey me event #obey me satan fic #obey me fic sneak peak #i mean damn #y'all satan simps r thirsty for content #so I THOUGHT I'D MAKE IT MYSELF #y'all know who you are

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literaryfic · 3 years

Note

can u PLEASE write a fic where chayenzo is together but they want to hide it from the rest of the crew so they’re trying to bang in the office but mr nam is on the way so they have to pretend that nothing is happening

read on ao3 : https://archiveofourown.org/works/30911159

I only realised after writing this that this does not follow the prompt but I hope you like it nonetheless.

“It’s not a secret. I just want it to be private. We’re colleagues and business partners, it’s inappropriate for us to be in a relationship”, Cha-young had said after Vincenzo asked her why they couldn’t just tell everyone. He had just nodded, still unsure as to why Cha-young suddenly seemed to care about what was appropriate and what wasn’t.

Their whole secret-relationship thing would be way easier if Mr. Nam wasn’t always the first one to arrive at the office.

Somehow, the paralegal has never once been late in his career.

Cha-young has been working as a lawyer for almost a decade now, so she’s used to waking up at dawn, and Vincenzo wakes up naturally with the sun.

It’s weird that, ever since they’ve gotten together, they can’t seem to arrive at the office before 8:30. Sometimes, they swear they’re going to make it, but Vincenzo forgets his phone and they have to turn the car around.

Often, Vincenzo’s 10 minute morning shower turns into a 30 minute love-making session after Cha-young sneaks behind the curtain. Other times, they give themselves 5 more minutes to enjoy each other’s embrace, unwilling to get out of bed.

Vincenzo is slowly learning that greed isn’t just about money, gold or power. Sometimes, greed is never having enough of Cha-young’s touches, of her voice moaning his name, of her hair in his fist, of her. It’s refusing to let go of her hand in public, it’s fighting off sleep just to listen to her rant about something that happened with a client that day, it’s never wanting to be apart from her.

And so, they all but move in together. At first, he stays over at hers because he’s too tired to drive back. Then, the next time he comes over he brings a toothbrush, and his favorite pair of pyjamas. After that, it’s because he’s renovating his place at Geumga Plaza. Weeks turns into months, and suddenly they’re looking for their own apartment.

Cha-young doesn’t like all the nostalgia the house carries, and she thinks it’s not appropriate for them to sleep in her teenage bedroom. She decides to rent it and they move into a cosy two-bedroom close to the office. It’s nothing extravagant like what he’s used to in Italy, but it’s new and it’s home. Living together, however, makes it harder for them to keep their relationship a secret.

(“It’s not a secret. I just want it to be private. We’re colleagues and business partners, it’s inappropriate for us to be in a relationship”, Cha-young had said after Vincenzo asked her why they couldn’t just tell everyone.

He had just nodded, still unsure as to why Cha-young suddenly seemed to care about what was appropriate and what wasn’t.)

It meant that they couldn’t be seen arriving together in the morning too often, which proved difficult when they drove Cha-young’s car every day.

“Oh, you guys are early today!”, Mr. Nam had once noticed.

“Uhm, yes! Mr. Cassano’s car is in the garage. I gave him a ride. Because that’s what business partners do. Haha”, Cha-young had quickly clarified. As if clarification was even needed in the first place.

Mr. Nam vaguely acquiesced, engrossed in the folder he was reading.

“Smooth”, Vincenzo mouthed at her, teasing.

Clearly, he was unappreciative of her efforts to protect their relationship.

It was only a matter of time before they got caught. It was a late evening in the office, later than their usual ones.

They’d been working on a big case for a union going up against a huge chain of supermarkets and their key witness suddenly declared he could not testify anymore. Midnight turned 3 am, then 4. Suddenly, it was 5 am and the three of them had pulled yet another all-nighter, reading thousands of pages of obscure legislations and jurisprudence, desperately trying to find a loophole.

“I’m going home to shower. I’ll come back in an hour.”, Mr. Nam said, rubbing his eyes before putting on his coat.

“Make sure to call a cab, riding Cheetah would be too dangerous right now.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Hong”

Vincenzo and Cha-young were now alone in the office, the first rays of sun peaking through the blinds.

The Italian-Korean man got up from his chair, massaging his neck while walking towards their coffee station set-up he’s learned to love.

“Oppa, I’m so tired.”, his girlfriend calls, using the annoyingly high-pitched voice reserved for when she wants to play around.

“Don’t.” She pouts. “Coffee?”

“Mmh, yes please.” It’s her turn to get up now. She walks up to him and wraps her arms around his waist while he prepares their drinks, letting her hands roam on his upper body.

“Cha-young-ah.”, he warns.

“What?”

“Aren’t you tired?”, he sounds unsure but interested. Good.

“I am. That’s why I’m trying to wake myself up.” She stands on her toes and kisses the spot where his jaw meets his neck with an open mouth. She feels his hair rise before she sees it.

Vincenzo abandons their coffees and turns around, one hand resting just above her ass while the other runs through her hair. “Mmh. Be careful, at this pace you’ll wake up our friend over here too.”, he says, looking down at his trousers.

Cha-young shrugs before circling her arms around his neck. “Oh well, the more the merrier, am I-” He cuts her off with a kiss and she smiles through it. Of course he’d beat her to it.

They start making out, enjoying each other’s taste. His stubble scratches her skin but it’s not unpleasant. Kissing him feels like a gift and a punishment wrapped in one, always exhilarating yet never enough. She needs more.

Soon enough, she tugs at his hair. He bites her lower lip, ‘Be patient.’. He grabs her ass with both of his hands and lifts her up. She can feel him, hard against her inner thigh, and Cha-young thinks for a second that if he doesn’t take her now, she might die on the spot. Luckily for her, he wastes no time in sweeping all the piles of documents off the central table before putting her down. The office is a mess they’ll have to clean up later, but neither of them care.

They’re both panting now, Cha-young sat on the table and Vincenzo in between her legs. “Can I?”, he asks, his hand hovering over her zipper. She nods enthusiastically and before she knows it her trousers fall to the ground.

“Someone’s eager...”, she’s about to tease but the sight of him loosening his tie and dropping to his knees silence her.

Oh.

Slowly, he trails wet kisses up her leg until he reaches her inner thigh. She feels hot all over, the ache between her legs impossible to ignore. Looking up at her, he smirks, clearly satisfied by her red cheeks and laboured breathing.

“Now.”, she commands and he obeys. Pulling her closer, he positions her knees over his shoulders, ready to start pleasing her. He’s about to kiss her where she so desperately needs it when they hear a scream.

They both jump when they see Mr. Nam, who’s now facing the other way, head in his hands. Scrambling to puts their clothes back on, Cha-young thinks she’s about to faint.

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry, I-”, Mr. Nam starts.

“You said you were going home to-to shower! What are you doing here?”, Vincenzo is clearly just as embarrassed as she is.

“I forgot my keys! I got in front of my house and I realised- Wait! That’s not the issue here. What are you doing in the office? I know you’re dating but still, I work here too, you know. Sometimes, I really feel like the third wheel and I know it’s not intentional but-”

“WAIT, you knew?”, Cha-young cuts him off.

“Knew what?”

“That... Mr. Cassano and I... we’re together?”, Cha-young is now hiding behind Vincenzo’s back, only her head pocking out.

“Was I not supposed to know?”, Mr. Nam asks, and from where she is Cha-young thinks he might be crying.

She doesn’t know what to say, and Vincenzo is the one to hand Mr. Nam his keys. They apologise profusely as he leaves, probably scarred for life.

Cha-young sinks to the ground, hugging her knees. Her boyfriend crouches down next to her, a reassuring hand patting her back. “Everyone knows? About us?” He nods. She screams. She gets up again, flailing her arms and pulling out her hair.

“Why would you not tell me? I’ve been making a fool of myself trying to keep this a secret-”

“I thought you said it wasn’t a secret?”, he interrupts.

“Aaah, whatever. I’ll just never show my face again. I quit.” She’s on her way to the door when Vincenzo pulls her into a hug.

“Don’t worry, tesoro. He’ll forget about it soon enough.”, He kisses her forehead, her cheeks, her nose and finally her lips, trying to comfort her. He’d always been better with actions rather than words.

“You think?”, again, Vincenzo nods.

She shrugs and kisses him softly, her hands cradling his cheeks. “Thank you, oppa. Now, where were we?” She asks, wiggling her eyebrows.

He bursts out laughing, eyes closed and mouth wide open, a sight she didn’t get to enjoy often.

Yes, everything will be okay, she thinks. How could it not be, when she has him by her side?

#vincenzo #chayenzo fic #vincenzo fanfiction #chayenzo #ask stuff

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sugarchannel · 4 years

Text

Change of Plans Sneak Peak

Here’s a sneak peek at the Obey Me Fic I’m writing. Lucifer x Reader x Diavolo note: nsfw, fem!reader, lots of dirty stuff in the future. 🥵

Change of Plans (working title...)

~start

Lucifer has been a witness to many things being Diavolo’s right hand man and closest friend. Anything from handling insubordinate subjects to the demon prince’s after-shower antics, he’s seen it all. The days of surprising him were long gone so when he arrives in Diavolo’s room to find him rather…occupied, why would it be any different? He’d walked in on his fair share of Diavolo’s sexual escapades and even been offered an invitation to join once or twice. Lucifer only came early this morning because Diavolo wanted to have a private meeting. Of course Lucifer didn’t expect to met with the image of you, a mere human, impaling yourself on Diavolo’s rather massive cock, but it’s not like this was his first rodeo.

But boy were you a sight for sore eyes.

Head thrown back, lips full and red from biting them, your voice raised high to the heavens, with flushed cheeks, strands of hair sticking to your forehead, arms held behind your back as Diavolo’s held you against him, his own hips relentlessly pounding in to you from below. For the first time, Lucifer felt embarrassed. There was something so sinful about the entire scene and despite being a demon, he felt like it was something he shouldn’t be watching.

Lucifer clears his throat, “If you are busy Diavolo, I can always come back later.”

~end

I haven’t finished writing it ofc, but I have been marinating this idea for a couple weeks. I’m almost sure the fic will basically write itself 😭

#obey me #don't know if ill upload this to main or nah...#might just put it on this blog #obey me fics #obey me smut #obey me diavolo #obey me lucifer #lucifer x reader x diavolo #diavolo x reader #diavolo x reader smut #lucifer x reader smut #obey me shall we date #fem!reader #fem reader #diavolo smut #obey me diavolo smut #obey me lucifer smut #lucifer smut

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blacksoul333 · 3 years

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MASTERLIST

guess im updating as I go along

...and I will annoyingly change the format till I'm happy: apologies for that XD

(iq means incorrect quote)

Obey Me

fics, hcs:

all bros

tdg songs

assembling a wardrobe

angst

Belphie x gn mc

reckless decisions - mammon x gn mc

Lucifer sneak peak

A Second Chance? - Lucifer x gn mc

Perfectly Bittersweet - pt2 to A Second Chance

fluff

smut

Teaser - Levi x gn mc

art:

Levi Dame event dress sketch

hipster Satan

asmo wip

shitposts:

Levi, Mammon (iq)

Simeon

Beel Belphie mc

mc x Satan (iq)

Satan's right (iq)

haunted house (iq)

Arcana

fics, hcs:

angst

Insignificance (Valdemar)

art:

Julian wip

shitposts:

monopoly (iq)

Bury Julian (iq)

Mystic Messenger

*tumbleweed rolls by as you gaze upon the empty abyss which is Soul's mystic messenger section*

#AHA I HAVE A MASTERLIST NOW #I have never had a masterlist so I have no idea how to lay it out lmao #please send help and/or advice on what I've done wrong XD #no but really #obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me brothers #obey me undateables #arcana #arcana courtiers #mystic messenger

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owillofthewisps · 4 years

Text

beckoning light - part four

notes: in a classic writer move, i knew exactly what i wanted to do in this chapter and just couldn’t get it out of my head. in some ways this is the fic that takes the most out of me, because i can see it so well and i want to get it down as i see it. life, of course, rarely works that way. hopefully the next chapter will be faster!

anyway this is my thousandth post on this blog. it feels right that it’s beckoning light. and yes i may have stopped posting just so that could happen, i’m just like that.

rating: light mature? (just some dirty thoughts, really. some brief descriptions of wounds.)

pairing: geralt of rivia/fem reader

word count: 3.5k

part one ∙ part two ∙ part three

the wisps have never led you astray, but you hadn’t expected them to lead you to him.

The sun pools over you, a warm pond of golden light.

It warms the house despite the breeze stirring through your open shutters, a cool lick of wind that plays over your skin like a soft kiss. The forest breathes, the leaves fluttering with each exhale, sending the dappled sunlight dancing over the ground. You can hear the pulse of it, the forest song fading into a heartbeat as familiar as your own.

You hum to yourself. The gaps between the trees are still shaded, dark maws of space, the little saplings rising like teeth, sharp with growth. The forest will swallow you whole one day, you know.

There is the faintest hint of movement in that velvet night space between the trees, and your hands slow, the knife heavy in your grasp. Asha nudges you, calls you back, her blocky head solid against your hip. “Nuisance,” you tell her, but you trail your fingertips over the velvet slip of her ears. The grumble that leaves her resonates like a summer storm thick with thunder. She nudges you again, her nose smudging cold through the thin fabric of your shift.

“Nuisance,” you say again, but you are betrayed by the honeyed warmth of affection that lines your voice. She huffs and you relent. You slice off a small hunk of sausage, smeared greasy with slick fat, and give it to her. “Satisfied?”

Her tail thumps against the floor, a whip crack of noise, and she licks at your fingers before nosing at you once more.

“I suppose not,” you say. You bump her with your hip. “But that’s quite enough. Go on then.”

Asha grouses, a rumble of a sound, but she obeys. She pauses just long enough for you to lean down and press a kiss against the crown of her head.

You dip your fingers into a nearby bowl of water to rinse them before returning to your task. The breeze trickles in through the window, tugs at your sleeves with playful fingers, but your knife is steady as it slides through the rest of the sausage. You pluck a bundle of fresh thyme from your shelves and crush the delicate leaves beneath the flat of the knife. The woody, earthen smell of it wafts up, a forest all its own. You breathe it in, this hint of the wild, and feel Geralt’s eyes upon you.

You don’t think you have words for it, for the sunscorch of his amber eyes and how they’ve burned themselves into the marrow of your bones.

“Tell me, Witcher,” you say, “is breakfast so fascinating that you can’t look away? I know that food on the road leaves much to be desired, but this seems excessive.”

“It’s not breakfast that I’m looking at.”

You glance over your shoulder.

In the daylight, even ensconced in the cradle of your bed and your worn, rumpled blankets, Geralt brings to mind the statues that stood proud in the summer-scented courtyards of the marquess’s estate. The breadth of him is mesmerizing, the slope of his shoulders a mountain range of muscle.

Your gazes meet. Geralt’s eyes are tinder sparks, a flare of heat catching against the kindling of your desire, and the air thickens, goes syrupy at the edges. It’s the breath before a storm, the sultry promise of something on the horizon drawing near. You swallow. His golden eyes dip to the play of your throat, drag a trail of phantom touch across your skin.

He stops cleaning his sword, his grip tightening around his broadsword’s hilt - your piece of the bargain struck, a trade for him remaining abed until Hadrian arrives - and you shift. You think of how his fingers would press indents into the plump of your thigh as he pulls you to him, as he settles the heat of your slick cunt against the thick line of his cock. The kindling catches alight low in your belly.

Geralt inhales, his jaw sharpening as he grits his teeth.

The sun glistens against him, catches on the thin sheen of sweat on his chest, and you focus on the swath of bandages across his chest. Miniscule blossoms of dark crimson have sprouted in the cotton, tiny clusters of ruby flowers.There are not many of them, but they are there. It dampens the edges of the heat.

“Funny,” you say lightly, turning back to the cutting board, “because you look hungry.”

“I’ve no doubt you can sate my appetite.”

“Then I’d best finish making breakfast.”

Geralt grunts.

His eyes linger as you work. The pan nestled into the hearthfire spits as you drop the sausage into it, the thyme going crisp, the small leaves furling back onto themselves in a last bid of protection. Asha moves closer to the hearth, ever hopeful. You crack the dove eggs into the pan. She snuffles at the shells when you discard them, heaving a mournful sigh that has a smile flirting at your lips.

“Here,” you tell Geralt, handing him a plate piled high, “eat.”

You wave off his thanks. As is your habit, you clean while you eat, stepping around Asha’s massive frame as she trails after you forlornly.

“I feed you,” you tell her, ignoring the way her velvet ears perk up at the sound of your voice. “Stop acting as if I don’t.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you think you see the faintest flicker of a smile on Geralt’s lips.

It is not long until you are taking back an empty plate from Geralt. The sun has risen higher, the shadows shifting as it treks across the deep blue of the late morning sky. It glints off of Geralt’s broadsword, and you take a moment to appreciate the way his forearm bunches as he glides the cleaning rag against the flat of his sword, his thick fingers deft.

You eye him meditatively. “I don’t suppose you’ll stay abed if I go tend the garden?”

He grunts.

“That’s not an answer,” you tell him, scooping up a basket. You should change, likely, but your chemise covers enough, and hearth has already spit soot-streaks onto it.

He keeps at his sword, keeps those long, rhythmic strokes.

You sigh. “Keep to the bed,” you tell him. “It will help with the pain, as I understand it.”

“Witchers are used to pain.”

“That doesn’t mean you should suffer it needlessly,” you say mildly. It is an assumption and overstep in the same breath, but you are not always kind enough nor wise enough to curb yourself. “Used to pain’ differs from ‘deserves pain’, and you do not deserve it, no matter what they tell you.”

His hands go still for a breath, his knuckles curving into hard peaks, whitening like snow-capped mountains.

“I do not know if you are punishing yourself,” you say, “but if you are, consider who you are doing it for.”

Before he can respond, you dart out the door with Asha romping wild at your heels.

---------------------------

“Careful,” you say absently, tugging up another ruby red radish and shaking the thick loam off of it. The soil is still laden with the morning dew’s touch, sweetly damp and cool. You let your fingers sink home, curl them into the soil like roots to anchor you in the earth. You pinch the radish stem between your fingers and tug. “There’s cow parsnip nearby, it’ll give you an awful rash.”

“I suppose I should be used to that.”

You raise a brow. “To having an awful rash?”

Jaskier makes a deeply offended noise. “That seems uncalled for!”

You laugh, sitting back on your heels. You wipe at the sweat on the side of your neck. The dirt smears there, but you leave it for now. “What else was I supposed to think?”

The bard sputters. “Not that!”

You pull up another few radishes, twisting their leafy greens through your fingers. “What should you be used to, then, Jaskier?”

He peers down at you, his cerulean eyes gleaming like the sea waves beneath the afternoon sun. “The way you knew I was coming. Geralt’s impossible to sneak up on, what with his Witcher nonsense, the enhanced senses and all. Doesn’t stop him from pretending he can’t hear me when I’m talking to him, though.”

“Oh,” you say, “I hadn’t realized you were trying to sneak up on me.”

“I wasn’t,” Jaskier says, “but you seemed far away.”

You smooth the dirt back into place, covering the small divots that used to house the radishes. There are more radishes nearby, but it won’t hurt to harvest them another day. “I was, but the trees told me you were coming.”

Jaskier eyes you, rolling a brass button between his deft fingers. He seems to be honoring the burgeoning season, his fine doublet the faded burnt orange of fallen autumn leaves. “Right,” he huffs, settling his hands on his hips. “Has anyone told you that you’re hard to read, woodwife? Your face, though pretty, is a mystery to me, and I cannot quite tell if you are serious.”

You bite down on your smile. “Oh, didn’t the villagers tell you about that, the trees and their gossip?”

“Well yes,” he says, pulling you to your feet when you hold out a hand. He braces you as you stumble. He’s broader than you thought, the cut of his clothes cloaking his apparent strength. “But they also told me that you feed the forest - wouldn’t say what, which is a bit unnerving, I’d be concerned about Geralt but he’s so thorny anything that eats him tends to spit him back out again - and that you’re part tree yourself, so you can see how it might get a little difficult to sort out.”

You scoop up your basket and tuck it into the crook of your hip. “Even if I could talk to trees, they wouldn’t have needed to tell me. You’re not quiet,” you say with a smile. “I think most would hear you coming. Is Hadrian inside?”

“Yes, he said something about how I should wait because of your hellbeast.”

“He exaggerates. She’s likely running through the woods anyway.”

“Having seen the size of your hound, I thought I should defer to his knowledge.”

You nudge the door open with your foot. “Understandable, I suppose,” you say. You duck inside the house and Jaskier follows.

You pay your three visitors little mind as you put away the garden’s harvest. It’s a meager one, but that’s not uncommon at this time, too early for most fall crops to be fully grown. And meager does not mean poor; the radishes are rotund little things, gleaming under the layer of dirt, and the carrots are full bodied and the color of a setting sun. You wipe the dirt from them as best you can and then tuck some away. You glance at the bed.

Hadrian is examining Geralt with careful fingers.

The Witcher is stoic, but there’s a hint of pain tucked into the corner of his lips. You are sure he can feel your eyes, but he keeps his amber gaze trained on the foot of the bed.

Hadrian moves with quick delicacy, checking at the whitening edges of the wound, where the skin is pulling tight with the promise of a thick scar. The very center of the gash is still wine red, deeply claret, the type of color that has teeth. You think again that none but a Witcher could have survived it. You know little of wounds, but you had known it was a terrible one as soon as you’d set eyes on it, and you have never seen something so perilous lose its relentless bite so quickly.

There’s a fragile intimacy to Hadrian’s probing fingers, and you glance away. You pull Jaskier - propped up on a small stool near the bed, plucking at his lute, his wide eyes darting between the strings and the river of stark stitches winding their way across Geralt’s torso - into some of your daily chores. He protests, but it’s half-hearted.

You’ve just bundled the linens into the laundry tub when Hadrian comes outside. You’ve left Jaskier chattering at Roach as he brushes her, the horse clearly delighted by his presence.

Hadrian kneels beside you, helps you push the fabric down into the water, the cloth fading into something ethereal as it dampens, diaphanous and eerie. He hisses at the heat of it, pulling back with a curse. You laugh quietly and knead at the linens, the steaming water lapping at your wrists like waves against a shoreline. You blot your hands dry against your shift once the linens are sodden and sit back on your heels.

“What’s this?” you ask, leaning over and tugging at the ribbon wound around Hadrian’s ponytail. It slips like silk through his hair. It’s a pretty little thing, carefully embroidered, little clusters of sunshine bright calendula blossoms and bundles of sage stitched into the smooth fabric. “Are you being courted, healer?”

He brushes you away with his long, delicate fingers. “Stop that, gnat,” he says.

“I’ll consider that a yes. What’s their name?”

Hadrian ignores you, reaching past you for the washing bat. He wipes away the thin layer of dust that’s accumulated from beating out the linens before slipping it into the tub, spinning the washing around in a slow, wide circle.

“The Witcher could ride,” he says after a moment, the click of the bat against the sides of the tub a steady beat that cuts through the forest’s song. “Not far, and the wound would likely open again, but if you wish it, he does not need to stay here.”

You hum quietly, watching the wisps of steam curl into the air to fade like smoke. “All of these years and yet you know me so little, it seems.”

He sighs. “I do not mean it as a slight,” he says. “I am only offering a choice that was not there before.”

“It is no choice.”

“I suspected as much.”

He hands you the laundry bat and pushes to his feet, his lanky frame unfolding like a fan, a graceful flick of lean muscle. “I’ve left a few tins of salve inside. The way he heals is far beyond my understanding, but it is still a terrible wound, and they cannot hurt.”

“Alright.”

Hadrian studies you for a moment, pierces through you with his slate gaze, the color of the winter sea, when the whitecaps have teeth. “The forest may betray you one day,” he says.

You watch the laundry water, the swirl of fabric spectral. “Perhaps,” you say. “But not yet.”

Hadrian sighs. The sound is a forlorn winter breeze ghosting through bare branches. “Try to wait until he’s healed to fuck him.”

You laugh, the sound swelling up from somewhere deep inside. “I’ll try.”

“Where’s Jaskier?” Hadrian asks.

“Talking to the horse last I saw him,” you say, getting to your feet. “Help me with this.”

Between the two of you, it’s easy to carry the washtub to the forest’s edge. It’s the briefest taste of the wild, moss creeping high on slim tree trunks, mushrooms opening like flowers where they are nestled into the curve of roots. The last of the summer wildflowers are struggling, going crisp at the edges. The forest has little mercy.

You switch the washing to your other tub, tuck the tallow soap and washboard in with the sodden fabric.

“Do you want me to stay until you’re back?” Hadrian asks.

“No,” you say, hefting the second washtub up onto your hip as Hadrian tilts the other on its side, the water rushing out like a river, sluicing through the undergrowth and winding along networks of roots. “You can if you’d like, though. Take that back to the house.”

“Of course, Your Highness,” Hadrian lilts, “right away.”

You swat at him. “Please.”

“Better,” he says, hoisting the tub up. “Be safe, gnat.”

He trots back towards your house, the ribbon in his hair fluttering behind him like a ship’s sail. You watch him for a moment more, watch the way the sun catches on his charcoal hair.

The forest sings as you step into the treeline. You weave your way across the cobwebs of roots that puncture through the thick loam, moss gleaming wet on their outstretched limbs. Sleek saplings whisper in the wind, swaying like dancers. Something chitters in the undergrowth, the sound spiraling high in agitation, a warning in a language far beyond your tongue.

Sunlight cascades through gaps in the canopy, anoints the forest floor with a golden kiss. Small flowers are speckled through the undergrowth, their blossoms turned up in worship, little faces raised to the sun. You venture deeper into the forest, the ancient trees swelling above you. They creak and groan in the wind, sleeping giants tossing in their beds.

The hair at the nape of your neck is damp with sweat. You heft the washtub higher, ignoring the moan of your muscles. You can hear the stream now, the quiet burble of it, and know it will not be long.

The glen is a sumptuous one, teeming with greenery even as autumn sets in, the ferns fat with fronds, fed by the stream’s sweet water. You kneel at the stream’s edge and get to work.

You sing to yourself as you scrub at the washing, the stream a steadfast companion. The forest murmurs around you.

You slip into the stream once the washing is done, leaving your dirty shift on the bank. The water enfolds you with icy fingers. It’s a chill bite of sensation against your sweat-slick skin, something that edges on gnawing, but it fades into something kinder. You turn your face towards the canopy and let the water flow over you like a blessing.

Something crashes in the underbrush.

You duck low in the water, scanning the edges of the glen as the rustling grows louder. Your dagger is tucked beneath your shift on the shore.

The ferns whisper in the wind, and then there is something hurtling from the undergrowth, massive and lightning quick, and as it plummets into the stream, you spit out scream that’s half curse. Just as the water surges around it, you catch sight of a familiar brindled pattern, and then the hound is on you.

“You’re the worst,” you tell Asha, shoving water at her.

She snuffles happily, ducking her muzzle beneath the water.

“Fine,” you say, “we’re going home.” You wade to the shore and put on a damp chemise, shoving your dirty one under the washboard before piling the rest of the washing in. “C’mon,” you call.

Asha trots next to you as you wind your way back through the labyrinth of the woods, through the drape of moss and the scratch of the pricker bushes.

“Should we visit?” you ask her. She pants, nudging at you to get you around a sapling. “I saw it, thank you.”

The forest opens into the cozy meadow your home is tucked into. You can see the smoke wisping out from your chimney steadily, fading into the afternoon sky. The shutters are flung wide; one of them sways in the breeze, the hinges creaking. You consider your home for a moment, and then you put down the washtub and walk back into the forest.

It is a familiar path. You think you could walk it blindfolded, twisted roots and eroding soil and sprouting trees bedamned. The ferns thicken, their fronds trailing over you like fingers, catching at your hair. You push your way through them, duck beneath their overgrown greenery, and then - they fall away.

You step into the small meadow, a little ring of wildflowers and swaying tall grass with a small copse of trees in the center. The forest prowls along the edge of it with wild roots, waiting for an opening.

The trees are humming.

It’s a slow, soft sound, rippling through you like a lullaby. It draws you near, lures you close to the copse, to the twisted trees with their wrinkled, worn bark, their branches arcing high. The soil at their roots shifts, rises and falls as if they’re breathing.

You breathe with them.

They whisper to you, their leaves tracing across your cheek, across the back of your hand, fluttering over you like fingertips. The sunlight glistens against the silver sheen of their leaves, the light draping warm over you. Things go soft at the edges, like morning mist swathing the meadow when you first rise. You murmur to the trees.

The sun begins to dip in the sky, a steady downhill march. You rise from your bed of roots, skim your fingers against a hint of moss cushioning the rough scrape of bark.

You press a farewell kiss against the trunk, against the cheekbone curve of it, and the tree croons.

It is a long, lonely walk home.

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