#chapterupdate

[malfoyesque]

Tell Me What You Want - Chapter 20

“Lucius knew he was going to prison,” she mused. “We all knew that. But have you ever known Lucius Malfoy to do anything without a plan?” The others just stared at her, but Theo barked out a laugh. “Absolutely not. The man’s playing 4D Wizard’s chess. He was always five steps ahead of his own reflection.” But, as the idea settled over the room, Theo’s smile seemed to fade. “He’s also the most self-serving man I’ve ever had the displeasure of meeting.” “Exactly,” she whispered. “So why would we believe that he’d simply accept being sent to Azkaban to die?”

Read chapter 20 now or start from the beginning

[wolfclaire]

Me: okay...okay... I finally got time to sit down, finally got the wifi to not turn off randomly for more than 30 mins... And I finally don't feel like an utter trash! I can start working on fridays chapter now :D

Laptop: .......how about no? *decides to not power up when i press the button*

Me: ...

Anyways, not only I've got an email form my ladlord that I've got 3 months to get the fuck out, but now my laptop that isn't even a year old decided to do this....

...

I will try to work with it in an hour...maybe it just needs some time with the charger...I hope...I pray...

[pathfinder-sr1]

🌍 Welcome to Vael’Theron 🌍 The capital of Thedas. The heart of a world reborn.

Where steel meets soil. Where light is drawn from roots, not wires. Where three once-divided peoples now walk the same streets—and not always easily.

Above, the spires rise. Below, the deep city glows. And at the center... the forest breathes.

✨ Chapter 12 of Mass Effect: Pathfinder – Book One: Belonging is now live. New revelations, new history, and new fractures beneath the surface.

— 📖 Read it now on FanFiction.net 🔗 Click Here

[writer-jgh]

While Gracie has accepted the Crimson Wraith's offer to help, another mystery still challenges the Scarlet Stranger -- the murder of his predecessor. Legacy of the Crimson Wraith 29: Faces in Old Photographs #superhero #superherofiction #maskedvigilante #noir #mystery #noirmystery #webserial

[hitmenscribbles]

🐺✨ Chapter 19 of Harry and the Wolf is out now – and FREE to read!

If you love magical coming-of-age stories, fluffy wolf packs, ancient instincts clashing with modern magic, and Harry giving Dumbledore a headache—this one’s for you.

📖 Read Chapter 19: 🔗 AO3:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/61649608/chapters/166998058

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🔗 Wattpad:

📬 Want early access? Join the pack on Patreon! ✨ Reader+ ($5) ➜ 5 weekly chapters, chats, 2-week early access 🌙 Reader+ Premium ($10) ➜ Daily updates, 20+ exclusive stories like: — Rescued by Tails — Harry Potter and Toon Force — Kyubii Son Reborn — Queen of Forbidden Forest And so many more...

Let your magic run wild with us 💙🐺

[moirindeclermont]

There’s a moment in every story when something cracks.

Not loudly, not all at once, just enough for the air to shift, for the weight to change.

This chapter is that moment.

Anne learns the truth about her grandfather.

The curse, yes, the one in the title, is no longer a distant whisper.

It’s here. It’s real.

And it’s about to dismantle every layer of safety she’s built.

If you've been waiting for The Big Reveal™, this is it.

It hurts. It haunts. It changes everything.

💬 Read the chapter

💭 Scream in the tags. Or in the replies. Or both.

🕯️ Reblogs are sacred rituals.

[intimatedear]

🔥 Chapter 2 is live.

Caracalla makes his entrance.

It’s messy, a little too close, and tastes like trouble.

Next chapter coming later today — buckle up.

⤷ Chapter 0 (prologue)

⤷ Chapter 1

⤷ Fic Info & Masterlistа

📖 Closer| Chapter 2 – About Bad Dreams, the Effects of Strong Wine, and Voyeurism.

“Timor animi auribus officit.” — “Fear blocks the ears of the mind.”

— Quintilian The young emperor awoke before dawn, as he did on most other days. Dreams tormented him, filling his veins with hot fear or bewildering him with rapidly shifting images. He had slept like this for as long as he could remember, and as a child, he saw nighttime as a kind of punishment. Oh, how angry his father had been at every mention of nightmares, likely believing Caracalla was merely seeking attention or refusing to grow up as expected of him. In truth, Caracalla craved attention, but not because he was spoiled—he was terrified.

On particularly difficult nights, his mother would come to his chambers, if his screams were louder than usual, and her embrace chased away his fears while her words pulled him back to reality. After her death, the nightmares continued, but no one came to wake him anymore.

Caracalla stood in front of the open window, staring sleepily at the intricate patterns of the bronze grille designed to protect him from unwanted guests. His red hair was tousled, as though he had just been in a fight. The warm summer breeze brushed against his bare skin, light and pleasant, prompting him to spread his arms and fully embrace its touch. He turned back to the bed, feeling the cool air tickle the back of his neck. His nose crinkled at the mess before him—the crumpled sheets and scattered pillows betrayed the restless night he'd endured.

Dawn slowly crept in, gradually illuminating the emperor's chambers. He must have stood there for a long time, staring at the empty street below.

Affairs of state,— Caracalla murmured to himself, his gaze fixed on the bed. —I will be deciding matters of state today.— He chuckled softly, as though laughing at his own joke.

He knew he was emperor now, and he liked it, especially the celebrations or the thrill of watching two men fight to the death. He relished their screams, the sight of broken noses, or, worse, eyes gouged out in a frenzy. War fascinated him, too—his father had filled his childhood with stories of conquests that sounded more mythical than real. Caracalla showed enthusiasm for military education, earning praise from his tutors, but they often warned him that impatience and mismanagement of resources could lead to the loss of conquered provinces. He dismissed such warnings as folly. "If you inspire enough fear, you can hold onto anything," he thought. Thankfully, he kept these thoughts to himself; his mother, Julia, would hardly have approved. Her philosophical nature rejected senseless violence, though she understood the necessity of force when used wisely.

After her death, Caracalla often revisited memories of her endless lectures with a bittersweet longing, thinking he would gladly listen now, even if disinterested, just to avoid upsetting her. Over time, he struggled to recall details of her face, her hair, or even her voice. His memory, once sharp, seemed to blur everything into a cacophony of sounds and images, much like his dreams. Though his forgetfulness embarrassed him, it rarely concerned him.

Looking again at the bronze patterns on the window, Caracalla thought how much they resembled a cage. But he wasn't a beast to be kept behind bars, was he?

The dawn silence was interrupted by a servant, a slender boy of thirteen in a plain linen tunic. He carried a tray of water and figs, Caracalla's favorite breakfast. The boy didn't flinch at the sight of the emperor's nakedness, as if this were a daily routine. Yet, despite the familiarity, Caracalla remained lost in thought, arms still spread wide. The boy coughed gently to draw his attention, but the emperor didn't move. Unsure of what to do, the boy hesitated, trying to place the tray quietly.

Out of the corner of his eye, Caracalla noticed the boy's silhouette. A shiver ran down his spine, though the room was already bathed in light. In the dim dawn, the servant looked like a blurred shadow, eerily similar to the figures from Caracalla's nightmares. He cursed loudly, whirling around with his arms raised defensively. — I beg your pardon, sir,— the boy stammered, his trembling hands extending the tray forward like a shield.

A sudden surge of anger flooded Caracalla—perhaps from fright or frustration at having his quiet moment interrupted. Without thinking, he lunged at the servant, knocking the tray aside. The bowl of water clattered to the floor, and figs scattered across the room. — Out, out!— the emperor bellowed. His voice grew louder with each word until the boy fled the chambers, almost tripping in his haste. Caracalla continued shouting, his words becoming increasingly incoherent.

Geta, in his room far away, lay awake, staring at the high ceiling. His brother's cries had ruthlessly torn him from the embrace of sleep. He sighed heavily, gripping the edge of his sheet as if willing himself to stay in bed.Mornings like this never bode well; the day ahead was already set to be difficult, and now he would have to tread more carefully around his brother than ever.These episodes were becoming all too frequent, a fact that troubled Geta deeply, yet he stayed in bed, pretending not to notice.

___________________________________________________ The events that followed the feast were unusually varied and rapid, disrupting Lucretia's otherwise measured and unhurried life.

She often returned her thoughts to that evening, overwhelmed by the grandeur of the event, new acquaintances, and, of course, the excessive amount of wine consumed.If the feast had initially overwhelmed her with its magnitude and pomp, over time, she found herself drawn deeper into the merriment, drunkenness, and constant conversations that greeted her at every turn.

After the events in the private box, Lucilla, whose educated warmth had briefly conquered her with its charm, grew visibly weary. Realizing she had attended enough of the feast to satisfy the young emperors for the sake of propriety, she hurriedly bade farewell to the more or less pleasant company present and left for home. Conversations among the remaining guests resumed, taking on a sharper tone and expressing mild dissatisfaction with the rulers and their approach to state affairs.

Feeling the same weariness, Lucretia decided to leave the hidden corner where she had been seated. The old senator accompanying her nodded approvingly, silently praising her impulse to engage in social life. However, he didn't miss the opportunity to remind her:

"Be careful and prudent, my dear."

Lucretia, already warmed by the wine, nodded obediently, though inwardly considering the old man's warnings overly cautious.

She strolled through the banquet hall, her eyes catching on the ornate decorations and the increasingly animated guests, who were no longer seated as coherently as they had been at the start of the evening. Her attention was drawn to one of the grand columns supporting the hall. Beside it, on a makeshift stage more akin to a pedestal, a lean but surprisingly flexible man moved with smooth, rhythmic grace. His dark, almost ebony skin contrasted beautifully with the milk—colored snake draped over his shoulders. — I see you share my enthusiasm for today's festivities, — a young woman remarked stealthily, appearing at Lucretia's left.

Lucretia flinched slightly, careful not to let the stranger notice her surprise. — In part,—the young widow replied politely, shifting her gaze to assess the speaker.

The woman had luxurious dark red hair, styled in large, high curls, and her olive—toned skin gleamed in the light, scented with exotic oils. — Cesellia, my name,— the redhead said briskly. — Wife of Titus Flavius. — She spoke haughtily, as if Lucretia should immediately recognize the name—likely one of the many senators, a high—ranking official, or perhaps just someone wealthy.

Lucretia introduced herself in turn, all the while rifling through her memory to determine whose wife now stood before her.

Cesellia turned out to be a surprisingly lively and unreserved woman, and thankfully, uninterested in politics. They spent a considerable amount of time chatting and moving from one dance performance to another, evaluating each. Cesellia was also a great drinker, more so than the young widow, and together they drained a significant number of glasses, bantering with each other and enjoying the vibrant crowd.

Despite her intoxication, Lucretia managed to maintain her composure and, more importantly, stay within the bounds of propriety—something not all the guests at the feast could claim. Rome did not frown upon the open display of passion and emotions tied to physical attraction, but even so, the degree of exposed bodies and unabashed demonstrations of lust seemed to escalate, as if on a runaway chariot, as the evening wore on.

At some point, when she felt that her state had crossed the threshold of acceptability, Lucretia carefully withdrew from the company she had been keeping for most of the evening. Politely, as much as her slightly unsteady condition allowed, she offered her apologies and headed toward what she assumed was the palace exit. She didn't appear overtly drunk, nor did she entirely feel it, but a growing irritation churned within her—a dangerous blend of restlessness and impulsivity that made her aware of the risk of doing something foolish. Deciding to avoid further temptation, she resolved to return home, hoping, perhaps, to find Marcus Tullius there—assuming he hadn't drunk too much himself or simply forgotten about her.

She cast her gaze around the hall, with its maze of entrances and exits, trying to retrace her steps to the place where she had eagerly escaped dull conversations just hours earlier. But her slightly foggy vision played tricks on her, and the intricate architecture only deepened her confusion, leaving her wandering amidst shadows and uncertainty.

After weaving between a few towering columns and peering into several dimly lit nooks and corridors, Lucretia stumbled upon sights she would later wish to erase from her memory. It wasn't so much the lust itself that disturbed her, but the ugliness of it—ungainly bodies and faces, all consumed by primal desires, which only amplified her unease. She was no stranger to physical pleasure and would not have shunned it with someone appealing to her eye and senses, but she knew better than to put herself in a compromising situation at such an occasion.

As she took another turn, now thoroughly lost in the winding palace corridors, her ears caught the sounds of heavy sighs and wet, smothered noises. By this point in the night, such things no longer surprised her, and she unashamedly pressed on. Yet, a strange drunken curiosity tugged at her, urging her to peer through the slightly open door of a nearby room. Secretly hoping to witness a passion more refined and pleasing to the eye, Lucretia crept softly toward the door, her movements cautious, and froze.

He was sitting in a massive chair covered in an expensive dark maroon cloth, completely naked. His toga and tunic were lying carelessly in the corner of the room, and only a golden wreath still remained in his wheaten, slightly reddish hair, making him look like a deity. The dark makeup of his eyes, neatly applied and intimidating looking at the beginning of the evening, was smudged, resembling a thin layer of blackened ink on a face as pale as a majestic statue. Geta looked down at the girl whose head was moving rhythmically towards his groin. Her hands glided over his unexpectedly slender and captivating body, pausing to scratch and squeeze at certain spots.He roughly ran his fingers through her blonde hair, harder than he intended, sharply pulling her head toward him, nearly pressing her nose against his pubic hair and holding her there for a moment. The girl recoiled, resisting the pressure, coughing and shifting her weight to her right arm as if trying to move her face and entire torso away from the emperor. The young emperor grinned, lifting her face to his chin and wiping the imperceptible saliva from her lips with his thumb. — Ask,— his voice was no longer as deep as it had been when he first met Lucretia. Instead, it took on an oddly high pitch, but mingled with his ragged breathing, it sounded strangely beautiful. — Please,— the kneeling stranger cried pitifully, leaning closer to him, but he held her back. — Ask better,— the emperor's voice now sounded entirely like a boy's—impatient and demanding. — I beg you, my Emperor,— he squeezed her face painfully, running his other hand through her hair again, still refusing to let her get any closer. — Please, please, please,— the girl pleaded rapidly, and on the last word, seemingly unable to restrain himself any longer, he forced her head down on his cock, perhaps even harder than when she'd coughed.

The blonde didn't resist, relaxing her throat as he pushed forcefully into her mouth. She gently placed her hands on his thighs, eyes closed, tears forming, yielding to the dominant advance. Lucretia remained standing at the door, her mouth slightly ajar at the sight before her. The man and the woman were positioned in profile, allowing her to see every detail: Geta's contracting muscles, especially in the area of the hand he was rigidly guiding the young girl with, and his stomach, clenching, heralding his imminent release. The expression on the face of the woman who was giving him pleasure, her eyes tightly closed, her movements submissive as a doll's, did not go unnoticed. Excess saliva dripped carelessly from the corners of her mouth in an attempt to cope with the almost violent penetration. While watching them, Lucretia could clearly feel the heat slowly spreading throughout her body, pooling at the bottom of her stomach. She knew she should move on, but all she wanted was just to watch. Geta sensed the gaze and suddenly turned his face directly towards the door, locking eyes with the girl standing there. He noticed the flushed cheeks and the hand unconsciously gripping the door. His hand slowed down, giving the girl, with him in her mouth, a break and the chance to continue on her own.

The young emperor recognized her by the faded, uniquely hers and fitting no one else, color of her eyes. He smirked, feeling a strange sense of superiority, clearly expecting the girl to be embarrassed by the realization that she was caught spying on such an intimate scene.

But Lucretia was not timid; she looked directly at him, blushing not out of shame but rather the opposite. Holding the emperor's gaze, she slowly let her eyes drift down to his erection, which would disappear and reappear with the movements of the fair—haired girl kneeling before him. At one point, she took him particularly deep, releasing him with a characteristic, moist sound. Geta groaned deeply but did not take his eyes off the girl at the door, just as she did not look away from them. The woman on her knees, entirely oblivious to the fact that she and the emperor were not alone, continued her task, quickening her movements and drawing new sighs and moans from him.At a certain moment, the young emperor, overcome by the peak of his pleasure, tilted his head back and released a deep, drawn—out moan, his body taut as his hips arched upward. Lucretia inhaled deeply and heavily in unison with him, struck by the peculiar grace in the intensity of his culmination, and felt an urge to touch the emperor's finely tensed abdomen, even if just for a split second. Of course, she immediately pushed the thought aside.

When it was over, the blonde suddenly glanced toward the young widow standing in the doorway. Unsteady, she awkwardly shifted from her kneeling position to sitting. Geta looked at the unexpected observer once more, blinking away the haze of his recent orgasm, still basking in the lingering euphoria. — Good night to you, my emperor,— Lucretia quickly said, bowing with exaggerated formality and infusing her words with as much audacity as she could muster, even as her heart clenched with nervous pounding. Then, without lingering, she swiftly left the room, practically running out of the palace.

The wine had worn off—perhaps from the running, perhaps from the shock, or perhaps from the realization that she had enjoyed it. She relished what she had just witnessed and couldn't shake the feeling.

✒️ Written by @IntimateDear

🔞 21+ content, warnings apply

📎 Full story index → here

[imperatrice21]

Chapter Delight: How Often Do You Crave Updates?

[egirlspicereads]

This is the current book in writing chapterupdates vary, I'm new to it so I apologize if its rough, but I hope that there's at least one person out there that enjoys my work 🎀💕

[blakeradcliff]

Chapter 51 of 'Out of Shape' is out!

https://www.webtoons.com/en/canvas/out-of-shape/list?title_no=837563

Thanks everybody who has been reading and supporting 'Out of Shape' so far! And check my comic out if you haven't yet! 🙏🏼 Thank you all! 🥰💖

[serpentarius]

Chapters: 3/6 Fandom: What We Do in the Shadows (2014) Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Anton/Viago (What We Do in the Shadows), Anton & Viago (What We Do in the Shadows) Series: Part 1 of WWDITS-verse Chapter excerpt: 

"I am really trying, you know," he finally gets out.

"Trying what?"

"To be better," Viago says. Swallowing, once, before continuing. "But I do not think that will make up for years of being bad. I have realized that I am not a good person,” he sniffs, “and this is why I do not have any friends.”

Anton, clearly dismayed by this information, leans further forward.

“What? Where is this coming from?”

Viago shrugs sullenly, looking down at his hands. He idly drags his sharp nails across his palm.  

“Hey, man. I’m your friend.”

The vampire sinks further into his bedding. Despite Anton's apparent sincerity, he argues, “You are only doing it for the truce.”

“No,” the werewolf breathes, faintly at first, but then more commandingly, “No, Vi, you’ve got it all wrong. Maybe it started that way, but I'm your friend now, whether you like it or not. And look, you - just because you’ve done some bad things doesn’t mean you’re a bad person.”

Viago lets out a disdainful huff. “That sounds like a lie.”

“Nah, I’m serious, man. I mean, just the fact that you’re questioning yourself makes it clear your heart’s in the right place. Hey, look at me, mate,” Anton dips his head down, seeking to capture Viago’s gaze, “do you think I’m a bad person?”

The vampire stares at him, unable to look away, now. “No. Of course not.”

“But I’ve done bad things,” he admits ruefully. “I’ve… hurt people. I told you before that when I’m changed, I don’t have any control. But… what I didn't tell you is, I remember all of it. I remember all of it, Viago. And sure, most times it’s uneventful, but sometimes it’s… bad. And it’s taken me years, still takes me time now to remind myself that it’s not me, not really. And for you, it’s - kind of the same, isn't it? In fact, you have even more reason to do it, 'cause it's survival for you, Vi. Vampire or werewolf or whatever, sometimes we just... do bad things. But I don’t think that automatically makes us bad people.”

[sasuhinagalore]

Chapter 3 of The Better Half - is online.

This particular chapter was hard for me for some reason. I experienced a writer’s block because I had trouble figuring out each characters’ response psychologically with everything around them. Maybe I’m trying too hard to be realistic? Also, I’ve never really written something so... lewd before hehe. But reviews left will definitely help me improve. Thanks so much for your support. My first fanfiction experience is so sweet because of all the positivity I’m receiving. <3 Fanfic.Net

AO3

Quotev

[wwolfjade123]

I’m gonna try and update this one frequently than Time Staff ‘cause the concept and idea is still fresh inside my mind. So... yeah

+++

Her hand falters, trembling slightly as her gaze lifted up and stopped at the Poster. She stares at the same poster Blake insisted that they put up because she said it brought her comfort. Weiss didn't fight her because this was Blake, the same Blake that had a panic attack in the middle of the hallways because she saw two colours that were far too familiar in her past. She just couldn't say no to that when Blake was suffering. But of all the places it had to be placed, it had to be there. Right in front of her.

Her eyes skims at the text on the poster, the text that annoys her every time she reads it, text that resembles a child's grammar and view in life. A child's mind.

[marauder23]

To Belong, Chapter 11: The Skywalker League now UP on AO3!

He was ready to rage at her, to make her feel small and inconsequential, but before he could she had a fistful of his tunic in her petite hand pulling him closer down to her face so he had to look directly into that blazing look of hers. “Don’t you dare deny it,” she whispered in a deadly serious tone. And as he met her gaze, he saw there were tears glimmering at the corners of her hazel eyes, threatening to spill over but she clung to them out of pride, not allowing them to fall.

[writer-jgh]

For the first time since their unexpected first encounter, the Crimson Wraith wants to meet with Gracie. Can she trust the masked vigilante? And what sort of help is he offering? Legacy of the Crimson Wraith 28: A Chance and a Choice #noir #superhero #thriller #superherofiction #mystery

[hitmenscribbles]

✨ NEW CHAPTER DROP ✨ — The Courage of Kindness (Chapter 11)

Harry is growing—braver, kinder, and more loved than ever. He stands up for a new friend, and his chaotic monster mom household? They absolutely lose it. 💀💗

This chapter is everything: 🧃 Emmy + Harry friendship 🐍 Miia’s overprotective meltdown 🕷️ Rachnera giving savage advice 🧣 Fluffy winter scarves & family warmth 🎨 Soft art bonding & slow healing

📚 Available now ONLY on Patreon – Reader+ Premium ($10) Includes: ✔️ 20+ fanfics | ✔️ 150+ chapters | ✔️ 3 uploads/day (Mon–Fri)