#Sub!Geralt who thinks he's a dom

[poledancingdinos]

Hostile Territory - Chapter 26

Pairing: Captain Syverson x OFC (Leah Coleman)

Word count: 3.7K

Warnings: Dom/Sub Undertones, Video Chat Sex/Masturbation, Shibari

Catch up: Series Masterlist

Taglist: @amberangel112 @utterlyhopeful-fics @marantha @kebabgirl67 @littleone65 @omgkatinka @luclittlepond @athenepromachos @enchantedbytomandhenry @narnianaos @geralts-yenn @peaches1958 @avengersfan25 @sillyrabbit81 @summersong69 @identity2212 @liecastillo @lena-banena @mrsevans90 @confessionbrain-writings @eclecticfashionbookszipper @happydistraction @hannah9921 @valacircareads @toooldforobsessions @kingliam2019 @rosecentury @wa-ni @secretdream2 @missemrose

Masterlist

Day 351

Sitting down on the opposite side of the table, Ethan pulled Leah’s sketchbook out from under her pen and began to flip through the pages.

“Coleman, come on, you’ve been exclusively drawing crows for weeks, you gotta give us something different.”

“They’re ravens,” Rohan corrected, coming to sit on Leah’s left across from Ben.

Ethan frowned at Rohan, shaking his head. “What’s the difference?”

“Same family of bird but ravens are bigger.”

Leah did indeed have a book full of ravens. With forming hundreds of feathers being so intricate and tedious, it kept her mind focused on her task rather than on how much she missed Sy. The only problem was that she’d had so much practice over the last four months that they were actually becoming easy.

But that was not, in fact, the only thing she’d sketched lately and she prayed that Ethan wouldn’t flip to the back end of her sketchbook.

“Fine,” she said, waiting for an appropriate time to reclaim her sketchbook, “name an animal and make it hard.”

The boys took a moment to think before going around the table and naming their picks, beginning with Rohan and ending with Jer on her right.

“Lion.”

“Peacock.”

“Elephant.”

“Crocodile.”

The boys looked at Jer like he’d just said unicorns were real. It was an unconventional choice, sure, but it definitely met the assignment. She would have to learn the shape and texture of the skin. And, to fit on a single page, it would have to be a close up of its face which also meant teeth.

“I guess I have never done a croc before,” she said.

“That was obvious,” Ethan said, thumbing through the pages and showing off the dozens of animal pictures and the briefest glimpse of one that was much less PG. Read not at all.

Leah slapped a hand over the sketchbook. “Okay, I get it. No more ravens.” She slid it back across the table and set her small pencil case over it. “Was there a reason you guys came in here in the first place? You know, other than to criticize my artistic choices?”

“We’re going into town for a drink. You should come with.”

Leah wasn’t in a particularly social mood but she’d been waiting for an excuse to go into town and visit a post office. She had a letter to send out that she did not want associated with the US military in any way.

An hour later, they were walking through the streets of the German city they called home. When they walked past the store front, Leah held back, telling the boys she would catch up with them in a minute. They offered to wait for her but she waved them off, not wanting to risk one of them seeing something they shouldn’t.

Once inside, Leah headed straight to the section that held the shipping supplies. Double checking that no one was looking over her shoulder, Leah pulled her sketchbook out of her backpack and slid out the image she had carefully cut from the book before leaving the base.

Sy had decided to live off base for the first time ever so he now had a postal address that went to a private residence. Like she’d done the last time she’d given Sy one of her drawings, Leah put it between two pieces of cardboard before sealing the envelope and paying for everything with the bored teenager behind the counter.

Day 362

The incessant buzzing drew Leah from her sleep. She wasn’t sure who the hell decided to put up shelves in the middle of the night but she was going to give them a piece of her mind. Only, when her eyes blinked open and she looked at her nightstand, she realized the buzzing wasn’t coming from a power drill, it was coming from her phone.

“H’llo?”

“What are ya doin’ to me baby girl?” The tone of Sy’s voice made her insides flutter. It was… Leah squinted as she looked at the overbright phone screen. It was two in the morning, six o’clock back in Colorado. Leah had one guess as to what had possessed Sy to call her as soon as he got home from work, time zones be damned.

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“No?”

“No.”

Sy hummed. “See, I think ya know exactly what you’re doin’ and you’re lyin’ about it to be a brat. Because only a brat would send their boyfriend a sexy little drawing of herself naked and tied up while he’s a world away and can’t do a damn thing about it.”

There was a brief pause as Leah’s sleep-addled brain processed his words. “Does that mean you like it?”

Back home, Sy stared at the picture as he repeated Leah’s words in his head. Does that mean you like it? As if there was even the slightest chance that he could not like the image of Leah laying on her stomach, tied in ropes from shoulder to ankle with her tattoos peaking out. The amount of time she must have spent getting every strand of rope, every knot perfect was unfathomable.

“Darlin’ even if there was any blood left in my brain for me to describe how much I like it, I don’t think the words actually exist.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, oh.”

“Do you… Do you want to show me?”

A crooked smile pulled at his lips at the invitation in her words. “You wanna see what you do to me? Maybe you also wanna watch me take care of the little problem ya caused?”

From what Leah had seen, there was no ‘little’ about it.

“Can I?” she asked on an exhale.

As Sy took his boots off—something he hadn’t done in his rush to open Leah’s letter—he switched the call to a video, waiting for Leah to accept. When the image came on screen, it was fully dark. He heard the bed squeak as she moved to turn the bedside lamp on and her face came into view.

He was relieved to see that, although a little sleepy, she didn’t look tired. She wore a thin camisole and he was willing to bet she was only wearing her typical boyshorts underneath. Making his way to the bedroom, Sy continued his study of his girlfriend.

Due to the time difference and the fact that Leah was constantly being shipped out on ops, they hadn’t had many opportunities for face to face conversations. It was reassuring to see she looked healthy and injury free.

Stripping out of his uniform one handed would pose a challenge so Sy propped his phone up on the dresser and took a step back.

“See this? I didn’t even have time to change. I opened the envelope the moment I walked through the door.”

He shrugged out of his jacket, tossing it over the edge of a nearby laundry hamper. His shirt came off next before his hands moved to his belt. Leah licked her lips, her eyes traveling up and down the screen.

His hand slid into his pants, grasping his shaft over the cotton of his underwear. “I gotta say baby girl, I’ve never had a drawing make me hard before.”

He’d also never masturbated on camera but there was a first time for everything. Apparently he’d reverted to ‘horny teenager’ status now that he had his first steady girlfriend.

“You were the one who wanted to watch. Tell me what you wanna see. Should I sit or lay down?”

“Sit.”

Sy looked around the room, spotting the phone holder he used to watch videos while he cooked or cleaned. The angle on it could be adjusted so that the phone was almost completely vertical.

Still in his underwear, Sy walked to the bedside table to grab the stand then returned to the living room. He set the phone down on the coffee table, adjusting it at what he hoped was a good distance from the couch. Before he could talk himself out of it, Sy stood in front of the camera, hooked his thumbs in the waistband of his underwear and pushed them down. His hard dick sprang up to rest against the patch of hair on his lower stomach.

Leah was silent but the slight hitch of her breath and the quickening rise and fall of her chest told him that she was turned on. His chest and thighs filled her screen, showing off his hard earned physique. 

“Makes you hot, don’t it? Knowin’ ya drive me fuckin’ wild.” He stroked himself as he spoke. There was no way he was just going to let any length of silence linger. “Bet you’re drippin’.”

Properly phrased dirty talk was something Sy had learned she really enjoyed. If she was in the mood it made her wet but even when she wasn’t it was like it reassured her to know that he could want her without acting on it. Leah didn’t always want to touch or be touched but hearing verbally how much Sy was attracted to her gave her confidence that she was enough just as she was.

Sitting down, Sy recentered the phone on the table. “You gonna help me baby girl? You gonna let me see you too?”

Leah bit her inner cheek, looking off to the side. For a second Sy wondered if that was too far but then Leah pushed the blankets down to the end of the bed and rested the phone against them.

She disappeared long enough to turn the main light on then came back to kneel on the bed. Her hair was tied in a messy braid over her shoulder, leaving the swell of her breasts on full display. The tight fabric of her white camisole left nothing to the imagination.

As Sy continued to look his fill, his hand returned to its task, slowly moving up and down his length. A groan unconsciously rose from his chest when Leah shifted her knees further apart, revealing the wet patch on her indigo boyshort.

“You gettin’ a little needy there?”

She couldn’t speak but the hitch in her breath was answer enough. In an unexpected move, Leah’s fingers trailed up her stomach to pinch her nipples through her shirt. Even if she had admitted to getting aroused when they were together, she had yet to act on it in front of him. If he’d known that having the protection of a phone screen was what it took to help her trust him, he would have suggested it earlier.

“You gonna make yourself feel good, baby girl?”

She squeezed her tits, pinching her nipples one more time before peeling the camisole off. Sy’s hand paused around the base of his shaft and squeezed. He’d missed that sight. Leah was, hands down, the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.

“I’ll try.” It wasn’t exactly a sexy answer but it was the truth. She would only get more stuck in her head if she made any guarantees but she couldn’t find the words to explain that.

Luckily, Sy understood what she meant. He moved to pick up the phone, looking straight at Leah as he spoke. “Good girl, for tellin’ me. No pressure, okay?”

Leah took a deep breath, giving him a small nod. “Okay.”

He gave her a reassuring smile before putting the phone back on the holder and leaning back in the seat. “Take your panties off. Show me all that sweet wetness you made for me.”

Shifting to lay on her back, Leah raised her legs to show her ass off as she obeyed his order. Once the scrap of fabric dropped to the floor, she leaned up on her elbows and let her knees fall to the side.

“Fuck me.” Sy resumed stroking his cock. Her entire apex was shiny with the evidence of her arousal. “Did ya also get this wet when you were drawin’ yourself all wrapped up for me?”

“Maybe…” She had most definitely gotten wet after hours of researching different shibari patterns. Actually, she’d gotten wet just remembering when Sy had first showed her what he could do with a rope. Though she hadn’t realized it at the time, she liked the idea of being at his mercy.

Her fingers found her clit, drawing slow circles around it. Just the soft touch sent a spark of electricity down her spine. Her climax built as she watched Sy chase his own peak, the filthy words never ceasing to fall from his lips. Her mouth watered when she spotted the first drops of precum leaking from his tip which he immediately used as lube to tease his sensitive glans.

It wasn’t long before he was spilling himself onto his stomach, his abs clenching with every jolt of pleasure coursing through his body. Head tipped back, Sy caught his breath but his eyes immediately shot open when Leah found her release, moaning his name as she did.

Day 209

“Stop abusin’ that cheek, baby girl.” Sy’s thumb brushed over said cheek, pulling Leah’s attention away from a random spot on the floor. “No sense in worryin’ about what happens when we get back to base.”

“Sorry, I can’t help it.”

“Will ya let me try something with you?” he asked, putting the last of the freshly cleaned dishes away. “Something that I think ya might really enjoy and that will take your mind off worryin’?”

Leah frowned, feeling wary of the oddly vague request. Planting her hands behind her, she hopped up to sit on counter. “You’re gonna have to give me more detail than that.” 

Coming to stand between her thighs, Sy took the dish towel from her hands and draped it over the oven handle.

“I think you need to give up control and not just the way we’ve been doin’. Actual submission for a scene where ya pick a safeword and we negotiate everything before it starts. Then I want ya to give me full control.”

“How is that different from before?”

“Because before you could have said or done anything ya wanted at any time and I would have followed your lead. Here, once we start, I’m askin’ that ya let me do all the thinkin’. You let me make all the decisions knowin’ that everything I do is in your best interest and will follow exactly what we agreed.”

That did sound appealing. She couldn’t tell how many times she’d wished her brain would quiet down rather than running a million miles a minute but she wasn’t entirely sure what he meant by ‘negotiate’.

Although, she did vaguely remember the contract scene from when she’d watched the Fifty Shades of Grey movie.  She’d seen it during a weekend leave and had fallen asleep halfway through so her memory of the whole experience was rather foggy.

Plus, that movie was basically just porn with a lot of plot and she would never take relationship advice from porn videos so she definitely wasn’t going to take any from a movie that couldn’t capture her attention enough to stay awake for two hours.

Pursing her lips, Leah chewed on her inner cheek until she realized what she was doing. Her tongue darted out to lick her lips instead and she gave a small nod.

“Alright,” Sy said, running a soothing hand over her right thigh. “Here’s what I would like to do. I want ya to kneel for me while I tie a rope harness over your chest. If that feels okay, I might continue makin’ a pattern down your leg.”

“What do you want to do once I’m tied up?”

“Nothing. If I finish makin’ patterns down both your legs without ya askin’ to stop then maybe I let ya sit with the ropes for a bit but, otherwise, I’ll take ‘em off right after.”

Leah frowned, she was definitely curious even if she still didn’t know how it was supposed to help her relax… Or what Sy was supposed to get out of the deal. 

They’d messed around a few times since their little tryst on the roof and she was becoming more comfortable with him. She found that she was much more willing to engage in something sexual knowing that Sy wouldn’t push to go outside of the limits she set out beforehand. There had still been a few times where she didn’t want to do anything at all but he seemed to sense it—or maybe her behavior was more transparent than she thought—and he hadn’t initiated anything more than kisses and cuddles.

“You wouldn’t want to get off after?”

“No. Even if you said yes to me now I don’t trust that you’ll be clear headed enough to stop me if you change your mind later. If this works like I want it to, it might make you feel a little groggy.”

“Oh.” She was still skeptical but if Sy thought it would have that much of an effect then she wanted to believe him. “That sounds fine. I don’t have any issues with that.”

He asked a few more follow-up questions before sending Leah to change into leggings and a long-sleeved shirt.

While Leah did as he asked, Sy pulled a few lengths of climbing rope from where they had been stored after their hike. Leah had noticed that one of her old ropes was beginning to fray so she had cut it and put it aside to be dealt with later. It wasn’t made for shibari but he was going to stick to basic patterns that put little to no pressure on Leah’s body and her shirt should protect her from rope burn if the harness shifted as she moved.

After finding a pair of scissors in the kitchen, he climbed the stairs to go join Leah. Her bedroom door was open and Sy walked in just as she finished pulling the shirt down her stomach. The room wasn’t abundantly spacious but there was enough space on the floor for Leah to fully stretch out onto her back which was all they needed. 

“I’m just going for something decorative here so you shouldn’t feel much pressure but if anything pinches or feels remotely wrong you need to tell me. I’ll stop and fix it before I do anything else.”

That was easy enough. She already had an idea of what level of pressure was too much from aerial hammock. Sometimes the fabric could be constricting which required her to loosen it before comfortably moving on to a different pose.

Leah watched as Sy took a throw blanket from the end of the bed, spreading it on the floor then putting a pillow in the center. There was no way of knowing how she would react until they started and he did not want to risk her panicking and rolling off the bed. He made Leah test the position, confirming that she was comfortable before sitting on the ground next to her.

“Have you thought of a safeword?”

“Valkyrie.”

“Good. If you say that, I stop. If it’s too much of an emergency for me to untie you, I’ll cut the ropes off,” he explained, pointing to the scissors.

Sy encouraged Leah to close her eyes as he worked to focus on the sensations. Every step was described as he wrapped the rope and he frequently checked in before moving on. By the time he’d finished with the simple harness, Leah’s head was falling forward.

“Leah, can you sit for me and stretch out your legs?”

He kept his hands on Leah’s waist to hold her steady while she shifted onto her hip then uncurled her legs from under her. Despite putting her hands on the ground, she wobbled when her arms gave out, feeling boneless. Seeing her falter, Sy moved the pillow and made her stretch out on her back rather than sit.

The next few times Sy checked in, Leah gave him a slurred ‘fine’. The pressure of the harness was… Nice. Relaxing like a long hug. Though her legs weren’t restrained, they still somehow felt heavier with the presence of the ropes. Her head, on the other hand, felt light and floaty.

Scratch that, her whole body felt floaty, like she was being lifted in the air.

“You with me, baby girl?”

Leah hummed.

“Open your eyes for me?”

Her eyes fluttered open, finding Sy much closer than she expected. That was when she realized they weren’t on the floor anymore and she was laying over his chest on her bed.

“How’re you feelin’?

“Good. Great actually. What the hell kind of magic was that?”

Sy smiled, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “People often call it bein’ ‘rope drunk’.”

“I can understand why.”

Running his fingers under the ropes, Sy made sure that nothing was pinching her skin after the change in position. Noting that there were no danger spots, he started slowly undoing the ropes from her left leg.

“How did you get into this anyway?”

“Back before I became an officer we were out on this training exercise. They rushed us to this rendez-vous point only to tell us that we had a thirty-six hour wait ahead of us. Anyway, we had nothing by means of entertainment and one of my squad mates was a real kinky fucker so he ended up showin’ us a bunch of basic ties and shit. I liked the idea of it enough to do some more research and learned how to do it safely.”

That was typical. ‘Hurry up and wait’ was a common practice in the military. The most surprising part of that explanation to Leah was the fact that shibari required research beyond knowing how to make pretty knots.

Sy massaged Leah’s legs to make sure the blood flow returned once the ropes were off. He couldn’t help but picture the marks that would have been left had Leah not been wearing any clothing. Or how sexy she would have looked with the ropes still on. Going off Leah’s positive reaction, he allowed himself to look forward to doing it all again in the future.

Chapter 27

[ellethespaceunicorn]

2023 Character Wrapped

@geralts-yenn and @raccoon-eyed-rebel tagged me to talk about my favorite characters. And well, this is just too good not to pass up. So, join me, won't you?

Let's rank my favorite characters! (Based on # of times I have written them).

Under the cut to keep my ramblings off your dashboard...but you just know there are bunch of Henry Cavill-shaped bitches under this cut.

But, in what order??

Alright, let's get this party started with...

Walter Marshall - Night Hunter

I feel like this is absolutely no surprise that I've written the most for this grumpy bear. But, I just call him Daddy. Whether he be touch-starved, an enemy turned lover, falling in love like a love-sick puppy, taking a little "me time" for himself, or being the goodest boy as werewolf Wolfie. Even wrote a headcanon about his hobbies.

2. Clark Kent - Man of Steel, BvS, Justice League

I have loved the character of Clark Kent since I was a little thing, I'm obsessed with curly-haired nerds. Clark also is the only character I have written "fluff" for, be it praising what you think are flaws or surprising you for your birthday. I have written him as a Sub and as a Dom (in my only work that has surpassed 1k notes).

3. August Walker - Mission: Impossible - Fallout

I've never written August as the good guy, and there is a reason for that. In my head, he's the life-ruiner. He can be sweet (to you), but odds are he just killed a guy because the guy looked at you for longer than a second. I've written August as a pissed-off Dom who was sick of being interrupted, a very bad Daddy, and an Uncle who takes advantage of his nephew's girlfriend here(original) and here(director's cut).

4. Captain Syverson - Sand Castle

Oh, Syverson. My baby don't even got a dayum first name and he's popular. I've written him confronting a lover during a post-apocalyptic pregnancy realization, and as a married father-to be getting his beard trimmed and talking to his unborn daughter. He's also featured in my Werewolf!Walter Marshall story, and that's all I'll say about that. (Also, I've been referring to him as James Syverson in every iteration of the character that I have written for - I think.)

5. Mike - Hellraiser: Hellworld

My sweet baby boy. He is a guilty pleasure. I gave him a full series where he finds love and has quite the cast of characters as his family. But, technically, I only wrote the series because of what happened here and here, when his naughty Uncle slept with his girlfriend.

6. Napoleon Solo - The Man from U.N.C.L.E.

He's just so fucking sexy. I love him, your honor. He's been a suave and sexy older man wooing a young student over a good meal, and also started a series where he was falling hard for a woman in his apartment building (still in the early stages and I promise @deandoesthingstome that I will get back to this series).

7. Sherlock Holmes - Enola Holmes series

I have also loved Sherlock Holmes since I was a little kid. I thought he was the coolest person ever, but he's a curly-haired nerd so of course I loved him. I love when Sherlock is in love, whether he is ignoring his bratty wife until he takes matters into his own hands, or if he is having trouble coming to terms with new love.

8. Charles Brandon - The Tudors

This little shit. This redeeemable, sexy, fucking slut. I love him. I've only written him once, and it was a request! But, I enjoyed it. I loved writing him getting teased sexually and then taking control of the situation. So hot.

9. Humphrey - Stardust

Ok, not actually a fan of Humphrey, I've just written him. And that was all thanks to @sillyrabbit81's milestone celebration at the beginning of this year. This fic is kind of a weird egg, just, go with me though. The plot is: you and Humphrey are step-siblings who end up getting a little...involved. I'm not sorry for the title of this fic.

And to our last entry, the only non-HC character...

10. Lloyd Hansen - The Gray Man

What can I say? If I had the means, and I guess I really do but whatever, I would rank this man at #2 above Clark Kent. Because Lloyd-excuse me...Sir is one of my all-time favorites. I've included him inside larger stories as a bit player, see Bright Like the Moon (where he plays a bad man later in the series). But, I also wanted him to have his own show where he was the star, so I had him stalk and kidnap a girl and tie her up in the basement and call her Sunshine. I also wrote a little headcanon about his family, quirks, hobbies and his sleeping habits.

TL;DR: Walter Marshall is Daddy, Lloyd Hansen is Sir. And I need to finish one series before starting another. Maybe I will work on that. *snort*

I have written for a lot of characters, and I'm not gonna stop. I really wanna write so much more and my WIP folder is literally overflowing with things. I just started a new fic like the day I posted the most recent chapter of THiCC. What am I doing??

No pressure tags: @cardierreh15 @milknhonies @halfofmysoulsblog @xblackreader @xsapphirescrollsx

[limerental]

limerental's themed self-rec lists

read my old fics, you cowards! these are majority witcher fics, because i have an illness.

silly goofy modern au

how long we were fool'd - jaskier/yennefer(&geralt)

married neighbors yennskier, suburban dad!geralt, modern witchers, little kid ciri, aroace geralt, relationship misunderstandings, borzoi roach, supernatural mystery, some canon-typical violence, found family nonsense, and my own clairvoyance in writing yennskier husband-wife but it was spring 2020

(don't) poke the sleeping dragon - jaskier/yennefer/geralt

a retelling of bottled appetites but it's a nerdy fantasy music festival, copious drug use, yennefer's sick wizard van, unicorn edibles, golden dragon dildos, outdoor sex, geralt getting pegged and double penetrated, a dialogue only threesome, accidental yearning old friend geraskier tenderness, and someone once told me they wouldn't read this fic because yen had her tits out in the summary and i will always remember that criticism for the rest of my life

as if you were a mythical thing - yennefer/geralt

old married couple, dom/sub dynamics, sex unicorn mention, geralt is very vanilla but loves his kinky wife, and he's too autistic about horses not to ruin ponyplay with horse facts

this one might hurt

long on the road & how light carries on - geralt/jaskier (eventual geralt/regis in the sequel, plus many platonic relationships)

the 80s trucker/hitchhiker au that got away from me, vietnam vet trucker geralt, aging hippie musician jaskier, AIDS crisis, terminal illnesses, dealing with mortality, falling in love, road tripping, copious american geography, period-typical queer community issues, and then... life after loss, aging, grief and mourning, queer and traumatized family dynamics both found and otherwise, finding love again, and watching the sun set on a life well lived

in dark and twisted braids - fringilla &/ yennefer

aretuza school days slumber parties, girlhood crushes, pining, unrequited love, i shook a sorceress and intergenerational trauma fell out, the inherent adolescent horror of making lasting decisions about your future when you are barely 18 but even worse because there's war and violence and permanent alterations to your body and forced sterilization and your little schoolgirl crush on someone you thought was a friend ends in betrayal and bloodshed and you end up on opposite sides of the war and she never even looked your way or thought about you and--

then send down the storm - aiden/lambert, lambert/geralt(/yennefer)

witcher roadtripping, just guys being dudes, horse stuff, winter at kaer morhen polyamory but different, ~trauma~, the mortifying ordeal of accepting you deserve more from life and also of being known, but it's too late (or is it?), grief and mourning and loss and love that was worth its loss, and also, the character death(s) are largely temporary.

aw that just ain't right :/

the witch in her tower - eskel/yennefer(/geralt)

dark fic, fairytale elements, hurt no comfort (mind the tags), morally dubious heartbroken yennefer, pining and years of yearning for geralt eskel, unrequited love, non-consensual mind control during sex, flashbacks to messed up witcher child abuse and violence and cruelty, the inherent horror of mutated and manipulated little boys becoming men who think they can't or shouldn't love paralleled with the inherent horror of enchanted and manipulated little girls becoming women who-- you get it.

the flesh calmly going cold - geralt/jaskier

this one's gross for real, a hunt gone wrong, hurt NO comfort, major character death and it's gross and tragic, gore, necrophilia, organs lovingly described (and jizzed on), basically it's just like that scene in twn where filavandrel exploded but if francesca humped his goo after. sorry.

blood of the covenant (water of the womb) - geralt/&renfri, geralt/stregobor

supernatural pregnancy body horror as revenge, ......pregobor, black sun princess trauma and curses, apocalyptic monster fetus imagery, it's about women and violence against women and evil men suffering for inflicting that violence mostly, and also the evils of standing by and watching evil happen. also, yes stregobor is magical yucky bella swan pregnant and then bad stuff happens to everybody.

[bardcore-jaskier]

♡ My thoughts on Veskier + headcanons ♡

- One of the rarest rare pairs in the Witcher fandom for sure! And guess what? I LOVE IT!!!

- They chose the perfect actor to play Vesemir in season 2! Kim Bodnia is a charismatic Danish actor with a charming accent, his performance was AMAZING!

- As of season 2, I personally am a bit cross with most characters in the series for the way they treated Jaskier. Geralt used Jaskier for his loyalty and his apology was shit, so Geraskier prompts/ideas don't come to me as quickly as they used to.

- Lauren went and killed off Eskel, so to cook up some Jaskel content it would have to be an AU where he doesn't die and would require a LOT of creativity not only to make it possible for him to be alive, but also mix and match his personality from video clips of his game counterpart on YouTube, since Eskel didn't get enough screen time on Netflix to show the entirety of his character.

- Lambert was an absolute dick to Jaskier, so Lambskier is rocky too, Lambskier's only saving grace is that Lambert and Jaskier didn't have a lot of scenes together, leaving a lot of room for thinking up ways in which those two could bond.

- WHICH BRINGS ME TO MY CURRENT FAVORITE JASKIER SHIPS: Yennskier (I already made a post about) and of course Veskier!

- Veskier, being a ship of a younger pretty man and an older witcher warrior, has mostly gotten attention from the extremely kinky side of the fandom. Daddy kink, BDSM, dom/sub, breeding kink and other kinks galore. Even more often, this ship is mixed with others in a M/M/M/M/M setting, you know, I know you know, we all have seen the witchersexual!Jaskier tag on AO3. And while I do enjoy a little well written smut from time to time, most of the Veskier fanfics out there do not quite suit my taste.

- Vesemir and our beloved, adorable, brilliant walking sunshine trouble maker of a bard, did not interact in season 2 at all, I doubt that they will ever, with both being side characters. HOWEVER, that makes this pairing FREE REAL ESTATE! Who is to say what is likely and what is not? Who is to say they won't work? Who is to say that they couldn't have gotten together at some point off screen?

- It makes me a little sad that people don't realize just how much potential there is with Veskier! Much like Yennskier, the theoretical romantic relationship between these two, at least going off of Netflix canon alone, would be surprisingly healthy and wholesome.

- Every time I imagine them together, I headcanon Jaskier as not entirely human. Either part-fae or of elder blood.

- Veskier is a perfect ship for emotional healing, for fluff, for the kinky side, for the crack, for happiness!

- FLUFF × CRACK × SMUT × HURT/COMFORT

Let me set the scene

- After Voleth Mier, Jaskier realizes that he somehow ended up in a situation where he lost his precious lute, became a wanted man in Oxenfurt (a city he considered his home), got tortured for information about his ex-bff, then said ex-bff came to bail him out of jail because he needed him, not for the sake of making amends, essentially using Jaskier to find Yennefer and then sending him off with Ciri as a glorified nanny. And here he is, at the top of another mountain, in Kaer Morhen, where Geralt is too busy with Ciri to talk while the other witchers are rude to him. He is penniless, injured, has nothing but the bloodied clothes on his back and is suffering from nightmares about Rience.

- Vesemir is a tired old man who has witnessed too much bloodshed in his lifetime. His body may be enhanced and therefore he doesn't feel the physical effects of aging (if at all) as much as he does the mental. All witchers were human at some point, he can actually feel the psychological toll of living much longer than humans are designed to. Still, he has to be strong as the master of the keep, to set an example and to be a dependable source of wisdom and guidance for his pups. He will never admit it out loud, but the things he has to deal with after Voleth Mier overwhelm him. There's Geralt's whole elder blood child surprise thing, constant repairs of a crumbling fortress, honoring and mourning the fallen witchers, processing the fact that new mutated mosters are appearing and they don't have the mutagens to create more of their kind to protect the continent and survive. There is nothing he can do about it except deal with the anxiety of knowing these stone cold facts.

- In this whole mess, two broken souls might just be what the other needs. Where Vesemir could do with a break, with a little joy, Jaskier is more than enough to help with that. And where Jaskier could do with being taken care of after everything he's been through, after everything he lost, Vesemir is a perfect candidate for that job. Their relationship would be yin and yang, balance and harmony personified.

- Honestly, please tell me that you see it too! They have a lot in common, Jaskier is a professor, mastered the seven liberal arts, grammar, logic, rhetoric, arithmetic, geometry, music, astronomy and according to canon, he passed every exam with flying colors!

- Vesemir is wise, he has lived for centuries, he has witnessed history, he was trained as an alchemist, has extensive knowledge about many things. He is a bottomless pit of knowledge.

- They could talk for hours together and never run out of topics to discuss.

- And the sex? OH BROTHER! Jaskier fucked his way across the continent countless times, while Vesemir is so ancient there is no way that he hadn't bedded a considerable amount of people. Yeah, the sex would be mind blowing I should think.

- Jaskier is a hopeless romantic and Vesemir is a traditional gentleman (when he is wooing the damsels, according to game!canon Lambert.) They would probably be very fluffy and affectionate with eachother. Verbose compliments, music, cuddling, kissing.

- LMAO, imagine everyone else's reaction!!!

- Geralt would be mortified seeing his friend making out with his father figure on the kitchen table 🤣🤣🤣

- The other witchers would probably feel uneasy, shocked at first too, until they get used to it. HAHA ONCE THEY DO LAMBERT IS GONNA FUCKING MILK IT

"Morning papa Vesemir, papa Jaskier"

- KAER MORONS!!!

- Also, the theoretical adventures a witty traveling part fae bard and a silverfox witcher could have, make me beyond giddy!

[grey-sides]

Fic Stats Meme

Rules: Give us the links to your fics with the most hits, second most kudos, third most comments, fourth most bookmarks, fifth most words, and your fic with the least amount of words. Thank you @mykingdomforasong for the tag!!

Most Hits:

I Tried to Swallow My Pride (14,361 hits)

Dinluke, E, omegaverse with omega!Luke and alpha!Din

Luke Skywalker was an omega who planned to put off his heats indefinitely until a certain alpha Mandalorian appeared in his life.

Second Most Kudos:

Kandosii! (510 kudos)

Dinluke, E, sub!Luke with dom!Din, pre-ANH

Luke Skywalker is eighteen. The Mandalorian gives him a new perspective. Din Djarin is an ethical dom.

Third Most Comments:

And Is It Because of Me? (24 comments)

Dinluke, M, crack with Obi-Wan

Luke Skywalker has spent the better part of the decade thinking the Jedi were celibate. Obi-Wan obliterates that idea.

Fourth Most Bookmarks:

it's boobies! (32 bookmarks)

Harringrove, E, Steve fucks Billy's tits

Steve’s first argument to Robin against his potential bisexuality was that he was a boobs man. Loved fondling tits, squeezing them, putting his mouth on them, watching a girl’s nipples pebble up and get sensitive. Boobs. Boobies. Best of the breast. After she had gotten done screaming at him to stop saying boobies and describing how he would motorboat Farrah Fawcett, she had pointed out that not just girls had nipples. That everyone had nipples and everyone’s nipples could get hard and some guys had bigger tits than girls.

Fifth Most Words:

You Did It to Yourself, But You Did It to Me Too (9,242 words) (full disclosure, I cheated on this one because I don't count the prompt work I made since I've been breaking up anyway)

Geraskier, E, Geralt has magical witcher spunk

A rewrite of the time just before the Dragon Hunt and the time after. Witchers cannot create life, but Geralt does give Jaskier a reason to live.

Work With the Least Amount of Words:

like an ark upon the sea (571 words)

Gemcham/Gembers, G, Kelvin talks to Eli about love

Kelvin's never been in love before. Better ask the one person he knows has done it right.

This was very fun! Tagging, no pressure, @chrisbitchtree @imsodishy @bigdumbbambieyes and anyone else who wants to do it!

[ao3feed-witcher-dddne]

by heebeegeebee, OldandKinky

"I feel..." He thinks for the right word. "Safe. Yeah. I feel safe now. Eskel has everyone in prison awaiting trial or shipped away to never return. And I'm excited about school... I'm excited to see Miss Yen's house..." Geralt chuckles and keeps petting him. "You'll love it. I'm glad you get along." He kisses Jaskier's forehead, and the boy nuzzles him sweetly. "And I'm glad you'll get to go back to school. You need friends who aren't me or Lambert and Aiden." He grimaces, and Jaskier giggles. "Don't forget Aiden Jr." "How could I." Jaskier giggles again, and Geralt smiles.

Words: 64914, Chapters: 13/?, Language: English

Series: Part 3 of A Handful of Petals

Fandom: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Underage

Categories: M/M

Characters: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Jaskier | Dandelion, Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Eskel (The Witcher), Lambert (The Witcher), Vesemir (The Witcher), Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon, Pavetta (The Witcher), Essi Daven, Priscilla (The Witcher), Zoltan Chivay, Aiden (The Witcher), Emiel Regis Rohellec Terzieff-Godefroy

Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion

Additional Tags: Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Pedophilia, Past Rape/Non-con, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Wet & Messy, Consensual Underage Sex, Anal Sex, Anal Fingering, Oral Sex, Deepthroating, Rough Sex, Enthusiastic Consent, Rimming, Size Difference, Age Difference, Statutory Rape, Subspace, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Foot Fetish, Panic Attacks, Angst, Fluff, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Has a Big Dick, Feminization, Daddy Kink, Past Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Bisexual Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Gay Disaster Jaskier | Dandelion, Felching, Creampie, Bathing/Washing, Masturbation, Jaskier | Dandelion in Lingerie, sexually aggressive minor, made up law proceedings, Gender Fuckery, Breeding Kink, POV Multiple, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Effeminate Jaskier, Bottom Jaskier | Dandelion, Top Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Protective Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Light Dom/sub, Pseudo-Incest, Deep insertions, Belly Bulge, Sexual Roleplay, Consensual Non-Consent, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, workplace harrassment, Homophobia

[kushielsmercy]

Bartender/Hitman Geraskier AU

NSFW | Tags in the tags, but basically non-graphic feral!Jaskier, Sub!Geralt, and poor moral compasses all around. Oh and I guess implied non-con (very passing reference). Despite the description - this is not dark. Also go read QueenForADay's actual mobster Geralt series because I blame this plot bunny on her.

Modern AU in which Jaskier is a struggling bartender and Geralt his favorite patron. Geralt always comes in late, near closing. But he never stays for more than one drink, tips 50%, and tells off (glares off? Words are rarely involved) large groups who try to come in ten minutes before closing. So Jaskier makes an exception to his “anyone who comes through these doors within a half hour of closing can burn in the deepest circle of hell” rule. And not that this impacts his assessment at all but Geralt’s got the broadest shoulders Jaskier has ever seen and long white hair with just the slightest hint of red highlights that he needs to get his hands on, like, yesterday.

Geralt is the right-hand and sometimes hitman of local kingpin, Vesemir. And one night he stumbles into a run-down pub after a bad job because it’s twenty minutes to his house and also twenty minutes to a drink and - yeah, no. Turns out the pub may be old but the bartender is a pretty young thing with bright blue eyes and clever hands and a lips that Geralt wants to see wrapped around his cock. But he clearly doesn’t know who Geralt is because he likes Geralt’s “highlights” (shut up Lambert, the blood never stains for that long - he’s keeping the white) and despite that still seems to genuinely...like him? Which is confusing enough that Geralt doesn’t order him to his knees on the spot like he would anyone else and instead keeps coming back just to - talk. Yeah, he’s confused too.

Talking aside, one evening when Jaskier locks the door early and flips the sign to “closed” Geralt has no objections whatsoever. Especially not when Jaskier saunters over to perch himself on the bar in front of Geralt; legs spread further than strictly necessarily. Their lips meet (Geralt was right, those lips do have better uses) and he grips the boy's thigh and yanks him closer and feels...a blade pushed against his throat.

So. Guess Jaskier has figured out who he is then, huh. Except what kind of crazy fuck finds out he’s been flirting with a hitman and then decides that the thing to do is to lock yourself in a room alone and threaten him???

...apparently the kind that Geralt’s cock is into.

Normally he’d just kill Jaskier then and there, but before he can move the boy traces his lips against Geralt’s ear and murmurs “I rather think this neighborhood has gone downhill - don’t you, my dear? No appreciation for local establishments. Why, this pub has been here for decades and yet most nights we get only a handful of guests. A shame,” he tisks, “If only someone of...influence, could encourage the community to buy local”.

Geralt should probably do some soul-searching about why being threatened seems to do it for him, but he’s a bit busy at the moment. Somehow he’s the one who ends up on his knees and he should definitely make Jaskier move that blade except Gods he’s never been this hard in his life.

After that Jaskier is still a bartender, just not a struggling one.

[littlefreya]

Hi Freya ~~ how would you rank Henry and his characters from most soft to most dom? 👀😛

I actually did this one before, but it’s been so long ago I think it deserves another take. 💖

Warnings: 18+, smut, this has multiple kinks in it so please heed the warnings - BDSM, Sub/Dom, Daddy Kink (August), bondage, denial, victorian patriarchy,  spanking, facial, cockwarming, exhibition, degradation, DP, anal, bodily fluids, CNC, role play, striptease, oral, overstimulation, power play, primal play, chasing.  

Characters: Sherlock Holmes, August Walker, Captain Syverson, Walter Marshall, Geralt of Rivia.

A/N: These are all based on my imagination and how I see these characters, nothing is canon. It’s all in good fun. :)

For Sherlock, it's all about discipline. Baby's got a touch of hysteria? No worries, he will be more than thrilled to “re-educate” you. 

Among his favourite forms of punishment you may find:

Spanking, paddling and caning - naughty girls get their asses spanked -  be a bad a girl and Sherlock will have tummy-flat on his lap, spanking your ass sore. “Allow me to show you your place,” he chides, squeezing your overwhelmingly sensitive flesh.

Bondage and Denial - Sherlock loves to experiment and enjoys testing your limits. “Let’s see how long can you go until you break and beg?” Tying you to his bed, he will either slip a dildo or his cock inside you, but then instead of fucking you as you’d desire, he’d restrict you from friction and have you throb and squeal and whimper for more.

Cockwarming - speaking of which, cockwarming is definitely one of Sherlock’s favourite things. A nice day at the park, you say? It will be nicer with you wrapped around his cock while people pass by, never knowing how deep he is buried inside your cunt.

Exhibition - It's not about getting caught as much as it's about him taking you whenever he wants, wherever he wants. After all, you are his little plaything to use as he sees fits.

Anal play - it’s a complete taboo, but mother nature gave you two holes for a reason, and Sherlock is more than curious to find out what it feels like to have that puckered hole stretched around his shaft and to fill it with his cum.  

Walter has a dirty little secret, one that he only shared with you. He likes it rough, always had and has been a proud member of the BDSM community for years now.

Bondage - He is an absolute Dom and wouldn't be open to switching. If anything entices him, it's to have you restrained to his bed, all stripped from clothes and power. Luckily, having a police career comes with a free pair of handcuffs. But Walter also likes to get creative, and he went out of his way to install a special headboard with various types of cuffs and chains.

CNC - Nothing like roleplay to spice up your sex life. Whether you are playing a dirty little slut getting arrested or the damsel in distress who owes the big bad cop a thanks. But Walter’s favourite game is when you pretend to not want it. Fight him as much as you want, we both know how it’s going to end. 

Degradation - You will never forget the day you walked home to have Walter put a collar with a chain around your neck. "Get down on your knees," he demanded and as you did he led you to the bedroom where he fucked your face like the dirty little slut you are.

Overstimulation - His coarse beard between your thighs is enough to make you whimper, but that won’t do for Walter. Oh no. What he really wants is to reduce you to a puddle as he eats you out as if the devil is at the door. He won’t stop until you are trembling, shaky thing, relishing in the fact that he has that much power over you.  (Based on a story collab with @wolvesandhoundshowltogether)

Don't be fooled by August's harsh demeanour. Yes he is a killing machine and while he loves to be in charge and can be extremely hard, he also has quite the soft Dom tendencies.

Daddy / Princess dynamics - you are his little princess, the woman he will protect and burn worlds to a cinder if needs be. He loves to buy you pretty dresses and dress you in angelic lingerie. All he wants in return is your devotion and that you will call him daddy. 

Corruption Kink - you are far from being a virgin, but August loves to pretend that you are the purest thing that he gets to defile. Storming into the bedroom, he rips your pretty little dress and your lingerie and fucks each of your holes while he is still in his suit. 

Facial - speaking of defilement, after having you come around his cock, he sometimes likes to pull out and pump himself as he crouched above you. With a grunt, he comes and spills his warm creamy seed all over your face and breasts. “A lovely pearl necklace for my beautiful princess.” 

Breathplay - What says control more than sustaining the air from your lungs? Having you sit on his monstrous cock, he makes you ride him while his fingers are wrapped around your throat. “Come if you want to breathe,” he commands and watches how you forgo your survival instincts for the sake of pleasure.

Praise kink - you are his good girl, and he makes sure to remind you that whether in your daily routine or when he is balls deep inside you. “Good... good girl, such a good girl,” he praises as he watches you spiral into ecstasy.

Aftercare - a good Dom takes aftercare seriously, and August happens to treat him with great responsibility. He keeps a box right next to his bed with essentials such as lotions, oils and everything you may need to feel safe. The first thing he does is check your vitals and press you against his chest, so you will feel protected in his big arms. Then later, once you manage to speak again, he runs a warm bubble bath and carries you to the bathroom, where he bathes and snuggles you for as long as you need. 

For Geralt it’s not about being in charge as much as it’s about the laws of nature. That being said, he wouldn’t mind you assuming control, if you manage to overpower him ;)

Primal Play - Scratching, biting, fighting for control. Geralt can smell your arousal from miles away, and once those intoxicating pheromones hit his nose, he is no better than the monsters he seeks to hunt. Led by one primal instinct to conquer, he tackles you down to the damp grass and tears the clothes right off of you.     

Chasing - Nothing like a good chase to get his blood pumping. Of course, you are no match to the stamina of a witcher, but he gives you a headstart, watching you scamper away like a tender gazelle. You can hide if you want to, but we all know how it will end...

Switching - if by some miracle you managed to outsmart him and gain your way to the top, he would let you have it, enjoying the sight of you riding him like a bloodthirsty succubus while he utters the most obscene profanities. 

Biting - Geralt is quite possessive, and nothing says “mine” more than leaving a mark on your skin. A bite on the neck or your breast would do; that way, when the next idiot stares down your cleavage, he can tell who you belong to. 

While some of his fellow soldiers like to be subbed, Sy is not one of them. Captain in the streets and a Captain between the sheets. 

Oral sex - Indeed, Sy became famous for his skilful tongue. Spreading your thighs, he will dive between them and feast on your peach until you cry for him to fuck you. Seeing you squirm so helpless and submerged in ecstasy, losing all control, is the one thing that gets him off more than anything. Sometimes he would even eat you out while stroking his cock, and when he comes, he comes all over your swollen pussy. 

Stripping - good ol’ cowboy enjoys himself a lap dance. Sitting with a bottle of jack on a hot summer day, he loves to watch you as you seduce him and strip off your hot little outfit. Visibly hard, he adjusts his bulge in his jeans, grinning as you make your way to sit on his lap. He pours the whiskey down your bare breasts and then licks it off with a rumbling groan.  

Double penetration - give him full control and full access, and by that, I mean, let him fuck both your holes simultaneously. Having you on four, he slips a dildo inside your pussy, and then fucks your ass. You never felt so full and so tight in your life. You nearly come on an instant whenever you try it out. 

Auto-exhibition - it might just be that Sy enjoys a good home movie, and by home movie, I mean filming the two of you as you do the deed. There’s nothing like having something to watch later when he is deployed and far away from his baby girl.

Public teasing - Sy’s love language is touch, and sometimes he enjoys touching you when everyone is around. So don’t be surprised if you are having drinks with your friends at the bar when you suddenly feel his fingers sneaking below your skirt. 

[poledancingdinos]

Hostile Territory - Chapter 23

Pairing: Captain Syverson x OFC (Leah Coleman)

Word count: 6.5K

Warnings: Party time, Family Drama, Hand Job, Dom/Sub Undertones

Catch up: Series Masterlist

Taglist: @amberangel112 @utterlyhopeful-fics @marantha @kebabgirl67 @littleone65 @omgkatinka @luclittlepond @athenepromachos @enchantedbytomandhenry @narnianaos @geralts-yenn @peaches1958 @avengersfan25 @sillyrabbit81 @summersong69 @identity2212 @liecastillo @lena-banena @mrsevans90 @confessionbrain-writings @eclecticfashionbookszipper @happydistraction @hannah9921 @valacircareads @toooldforobsessions @kingliam2019

A/N: Find the chapter playlist here!

Masterlist

Day 204

After they’d finished setting up, Leah went to the bathroom to change. When she returned, Sy momentarily forgot how to breathe. She wore a black long-sleeved dress with thigh high socks and a pair of simple black Vans. The flowy skirt of the dress was short, ending a few inches above the socks and showing off her tattoos.

“Please tell me you’re wearing underwear under that,” he blurted out before he could think better of it.

Leah closed the distance between them, wrapping her arms around his neck. “Wanna check and make sure?” she teased.

Sy hesitated for a second but decided to trust that if Leah was offering it was because she was prepared for the possibility of him saying yes. His hands followed the curve of her ass downwards, slipping under the hem of her dress and following her soft skin all the way to the edge of the boyshorts she’d put on under her dress.

“Good girl,” he praised, reassured that he wouldn’t have to threaten anyone with bodily harm for catching a glimpse of Leah’s ass.

The next hour passed in a blur of names and good food. Caleb knew his way around a grill, that was for sure. Throughout their dinner, everyone took a moment to greet Leah and welcome her home.

Once the plates had been cleared, a few of the guys prepared the fire pit. Sy was happy to see that it was one of those chiminea style ones. Fire combined with dozens of drunk boys was often a recipe for injuries or forest fires but that was less likely with an enclosed flame.

The music was turned up as guests started moving to the open space that apparently served as a dance floor. Leah was chatting with Killian and Trevor—two of her friends from high school—along with Camden, Lachlan and his girlfriend, Isobel.

At first, Camden and Lachlan had used every possible opportunity to grill Sy but eventually they either gave up or decided he wasn’t so bad and they turned their focus back to catching up with Leah.

Killian was in the middle of telling a story about some girl he’d been seeing when Sy’s phone rang. He frowned as he saw the video call request, briefly hesitating whether or not to ignore it, but he eventually decided he should take the call.

“Sorry,” he kissed Leah’s temple as he stood, “itʼs my sister. Iʼll be inside.”

The cabin was surprisingly well insulated, the sound of the music being nearly completely muffled as he closed the door behind him.

“Hey Liv.”

His sister didn’t return his greeting, jumping right into what she had to say.

“I called mama to know what night we should come over for family dinner and she said you’d gone chasin’ after some girl! Ya didn’t think to say goodbye?”

The old couch in the lounge area creaked as Sy’s weight sank into the cushions.

“To be honest, I didn’t think you’d notice. Ya didn’t mention y’all were plannin’ on comin’ by again.”

“Why wouldn’t I?” 

Sy winced at what could only be described as a high pitched squawk. He wasn’t sure why she was so offended. If anything, he was the one who should have an issue with her.

“The other night y’all were only there for like two hours before goin’ home and ya said maybe three full sentences to me in that time.”

Olivia’s mouth dropped open as she scoffed. “It was a school night and the kids had homework.”

“Ya couldn’t have maybe written the teacher a note explainin’ that their uncle was back on American soil for the first time in years and that they could catch up on schoolwork another time?”

Sy didn’t know much about kids and schoolwork but he was pretty sure they could have played the returning hero card if they’d wanted to. Didn’t schools still say the pledge of allegiance every morning? And if not, how much trouble could they really be in for not doing their homework? The oldest wasn’t even ten years old yet.

“They can’t just skip homework, education is the most important thing at their age.”

It was Sy’s turn to scoff.

“Don’t I fuckin’ know it. I’ve been comin’ second fiddle to your education since the day I was born.”

“That’s not true.”

Sy suddenly snapped, not managing to keep his cool any longer.

“Isn’t it?” he half shouted. “Do you know how many teachers I had that were excited to have me as a student until they realized I was the Syverson sisters’ dumb younger brother? Do ya know how humiliatin’ it is to be the only seven year-old in your class who can barely fuckin’ read? No, ya don’t ‘cause whenever I came to ask either of y’all for help, Abi was always out readin’ in the garden and you were yellin’ at me to get outta your room.”

Just like that, Olivia went from combative to defensive.

“That’s not fair. I was eleven, it wasn’t my job to play teacher.”

“No, you’re right, it wasn’t your job. As for fair? Is it fair that after barely showin’ me the time of day ya call me up to yell at me ‘cause I decided to go after somethin’ I want instead of puttin’ everyone else first for once in my fuckin’ life?”

“Ya can’t be that self-absorbed. When have ya ever had to put anyone else above yourself?”

Sy counted out on his fingers as he spoke.

“When I was six and ask my friend’s older brother to fake mama’s signature on my failed tests so that she could focus on takin’ care of two newborns instead of worryin’ about me. When I enlisted at eighteen so that our parents would have one less mouth to feed while they worked to put you and Abi through college. When I gave up on buyin’ my own place to help pay Jackson and Austin’s tuition and all four of your weddings. Where the fuck do you think our parents got thirty-five hundred dollars for your designer dress?”

Olivia’s face fell as she realized he wasn’t talking out of his ass.

“I— I thought that with mama goin’ back to work full-time and daddy’s promotion—”

“Mama’s a file clerk in the county records office and pops is a shift supervisor at a warehouse. Ya really think that’s enough to save over a hundred grand in less than ten years? ‘Cause that’s how much I’ve sent them.”

“Ya shoulda told me,” she whispered as she sank down on her pristine white leather couch.

“Why? Would ya have treated me differently if ya’d known? I shouldn’t have to pay ya to give a shit, Olivia.”

“I do give a shit! Itʼs just kinda hard to get along when you’re never here. Ya may have helped pay for our weddings but ya werenʼt there. You left us, not the other way around.”

“Iʼve got better shit to do than sit here and listen to ya have a tantrum. Say goodbye to the kids for me.”

“I hope sheʼs worth it,” she spit right before ending the call.

The sound of footsteps coming down the hall alerted Sy to the fact that he wasn’t alone. He looked up to see Caleb holding out a fresh bottle of beer. He must have been in the bathroom when Sy moved inside.

“How much of that did ya hear?”

“Basically all of it. It’s a small place, sorry man.”

“Honestly, that fight was a long time comin’. It was bound to happen at the most inconvenient time.”

To Sy’s surprise, Caleb fell into the seat across from him. He hadn’t planned on discussing the subject any further but it seemed the younger man had other ideas.

After a long moment of silent staring, Caleb finally spoke.

“You’re fucking perfect for each other, you know that?”

Sy wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting him to say but it sure as hell hadn’t been that. Feeling a little more at ease, he leaned back and finally took a sip of the cold beer.

“How do you figure that?”

“You’re basically the same, except that you had two really different upbringings.” Caleb looked over at the wall which was filled with happy family photos. One of them showed Caleb at what must have been his high school graduation. Another showed Leah half-way up some mountain she was climbing. Another was of the two of them with a man who was the spitting image of the both of them. Sy continued his perusal as Caleb began listing his observations.

“She wasn’t as strong as me in school despite trying really hard. For a long time after dad died she basically made herself invisible because she didn’t want to distract me. When she enlisted, she made me take her half of the inheritance so that I could pay for med school.”

Caleb was right. They were more similar than either of them had ever noticed.

“I wasn’t sure about you. It’s hard to accept that my baby sister is getting involved with a guy who’s not only a decade older—”

“Nine years, actually.”

Caleb smirked, shaking his head.

“A man who’s both almost a decade older and her superior but… I think you’re exactly what she needs because you’ll understand her. I think she’ll always want to put you first and that you’ll do the same for her.”

“Yeah, I will.”

Standing, Caleb clapped Sy once on the shoulder. “Just make sure you keep her alive and happy or I’m gonna show you that Leah’s not the only one who picked up a thing or two from our dad.”

Sy couldn’t help but smile. He believed with one-hundred percent certainty that Caleb would, in fact, follow through with his threat and the only thing it did was warm his heart.

“You know,” Sy stood to follow him out, “she doesn’t make the keepin’ her alive part easy. She’s fuckin’ stubborn as a mule and acts like she’s got nine lives.”

Caleb had one hand on the door, pausing before he pulled it open.

“Yeah, I do know. It was my job for four years. Why do you think I needed five other guys to help me take care of her? Tag, you’re it.”

The two men were laughing as they stepped outside, Sy making his way back to Leah’s side. Most people had joined the dancing but it seemed she was either uninterested or she was waiting for him to get back.

A familiar beat began to play over the speakers and a few of the guys were immediately hyped.

“Ooh!”

“Thank you, thank you, thank you! You’re far too kind!”

As Caleb and a guy he knew from the hospital began singing along, Sy realized the lyrics were wrong. He returned to Leah’s side, putting his arm around her and pulling her close. “What the hell is this?”

“It’s Encore by Jay-Z mixed with Numb by Linkin Park.”

As he thought about it, it wasn’t that strange of a mix. He’d never been a big fan of hip hop but he found that it worked over the beat.

“Yo Caleb!” one guy called from the crowd of people. “Run it back, run it back.” The dancers parted to let him and his girlfriend through. “Killer! Get your ass over here!”

Leah vigorously shook her head no, trying to wave him off. “No way. V, this is your dance.”

The woman, who Sy now remembered had introduced herself as Valentina and her boyfriend as Victor, pulled Leah up from her seat.

“It’s yours too and it’s not nearly as fun with a pregnant partner who can’t do half the moves. Go make his night, I’ll keep your man company.”

Victor’s girlfriend dropped down across from Sy who tried not to think too hard about how much he liked being called Leah’s man.

“How do you know Leah again?”

“Me, Vic and Leah were in the same performing arts program in high school. I got hurt two months before our final performance and Leah offered to sub for me since she was a year younger and wasn’t doing the senior showcase.”

Vic dragged Leah out to the makeshift dance floor and Caleb started the song again from the beginning. Everyone gave them space as Vic began leading Leah through a routine that Sy guessed might be tango mixed with more modern styles.

It was clear Leah was not as skilled as Vic but she seemed to remember the routine well enough, jumping for the lifts and following along to the fast footwork. They were dancing close together—intimately close—but Sy wasn’t jealous at all. He could tell by the expression on her face that Leah was having fun and nothing more. Vic kept his hands in safe territory, never straying from her back or thigh unlike when he’d danced with his girlfriend earlier.

Out of nowhere one of the single girls took the chair at the end of the table and leaned in to catch Valentina’s attention.

“Are you seriously okay with her grinding all over your boyfriend like that?” She huffed, shooting a dirty look over at Leah. “I don’t know why everyone is so hung up, I swear even the girls are drooling over her.”

Valentina was stunned silent but Isobel jumped in without a second of hesitation. 

“Tammy, you’re new around here so maybe you hadn’t realized this yet but if you’re looking to get with someone, whining over the fact that Leah’s getting more attention than you is a bad way to do it. I can guarantee that any guy here would drop you like a hot potato if Leah came calling, not because they want her in their bed but because they respect the fuck out of that girl and love her even more. If you can’t handle that then I suggest you find somewhere else to be.”

Tammy sat there, mouth agape. She looked at each guy in turn as if expecting one of them to come to her defense but none of them said a single word. Seeming to realize she’d just screwed her chances with every available guy present, she threw her purse over her shoulder and stormed off.

The strange remix song had ended and the couples returned to dancing as they’d been before Vic interrupted them. He and Leah walked back to the table together where Vic wrapped his arms around Valentina from behind and cupped her belly. If he had to hazard a guess, Sy would have said she was about five months along—far enough that she was noticeably pregnant. Sy looked away, feeling like an intruder in their intimate moment.

“Do you dance?” Leah asked, gulping down a few sips of water as she caught her breath.

“Not like that.”

Leah only laughed, motioning for Sy to get up from his seat. “I barely dance like that.” Reaching out a hand for him to take, she walked backwards as she led Sy towards the other dancers.

“I’d never really danced until I offered to help Vic.”

Her statement took Sy by surprise. He would not have been able to follow that choreography as a new dancer much less perform it at a showcase with only two months of practice.

“Then why’d ya offer to sub for Valentina?”

Nibbling on her lip, Leah looked almost embarrassed. “Because growing up I watched a lot of dance movies and I wanted to be just like those girls except I was too busy with martial arts and learning the best ways of skinning a deer.”

It was the first time Sy had ever heard Leah express anything but complete happiness with the way she’d grown up. He could understand how it might feel like a betrayal of her father who’d done everything for her. As much as she might look like a tomboy, she had a more feminine side hidden away as evidenced by the outfit she was wearing. He was willing to bet that his mama would be more than happy to have a little bit of girl time with Leah and give her all the motherly love she was missing growing up.

Leah wrapped her arms around Sy’s neck and his hands easily found her hips. A slower hip hop song began to play, giving him the perfect excuse to hold her close though he tried to keep things PG considering she had a half dozen pseudo big brothers around.

“What about you, where’d you learn to dance?”

“When I started goin’ to bars I was told girls like a guy who can dance. And that line dancing didn’t count.”

Leah let out an exaggerated gasp. “I’d take a guy who can dance to Fake ID over a guy who can tango any day.”

“Guess I’m in luck then.”

Her face lit up with excitement and she immediately ordered Sy to pull his phone out of his pocket, making grabby hands as she did. She’d explained earlier that they’d set it up a Spotify playlist so that everyone could contribute a handful of their favorite songs and they would play on shuffle throughout the night to keep things fair. Leah found the song she was looking for and queued it so that it would be the next one to play.

Fake ID was not a known line dance. Most people only learned it if they were big fans of the Footloose remake. It was harder to learn than most since it had a longer series of steps to remember before it repeated. Then there was the fact that it was fast-paced and was hard to pick up on the spot.

Sy’d learned it for his brother Jax’s wedding so that he could surprise his bride with a big dance performance but, in the end, Sy hadn’t been able to make it home. He’d look like a dumbass following the YouTube tutorial led by the movie’s choreographers in the barracks but he’d really been hoping to make his brother happy.

When the song came on, there was a round of cheers from the girls. Like a well rehearsed routine, the pairs came apart and everyone fell into place by forming two lines—one for the guys and one for the girls. Leah kept her eyes on Sy, watching him follow the steps as if he’d done the dance a hundred times before.

Giggling with the girls around her, Leah had a broad smile plastered on her face. She moved with confidence, hitting every mark and looking damn good doing it.

Just before the bridge one of the girls shot her a wink and tipped her chin towards Sy. He didn’t realize the wink actually meant anything until the song slowed its pace and all the girls turned towards the line of men who had all stopped dancing and instead begun walking backwards as the girls strut towards them looking like hungry felines. It was obviously something they had practiced before, twirling and shaking their hips as they kept their eyes on their boyfriends. The onlookers whooped and hollered at the sexy display before them.

Leah was giving off the strongest fuck me vibes he’d ever seen—so strong he almost missed the last chorus starting up again, causing him to jump back into the dance a few steps behind the other men.

When the song came to its end, it was followed by She Doesn’t Mind by Sean Paul. Despite the odd change of pace, it was a perfect follow up to the previous song because all the boys dragged their girls flush to them. Caleb had found himself a partner in one of the single girls who’d scored an invite and was completely absorbed by her. It was a good thing because the way Leah turned her back to Sy and ground her ass against him was downright salacious.

“What do I gotta do to get ya all to myself for a while?” he murmured just loud enough for her to overhear over the music. She looked back at him over her shoulder, biting her lip.

“Go get a couple of drinks and meet me around the front.”

Leah reluctantly pulled away, heading inside as Sy watched her walk away. He collected a few beers as well as two sports drinks. He was not the type to tell a woman when she’d had enough but he also didn’t want Leah blackout drunk for whatever came next so he preferred having the option along just in case.

When he walked around to the front, Leah had retrieved her backpack from the bedroom and was stuffing something inside. She held out a hand for the drinks, dropping them in the bag and zipping it up.

“Where are we goin’?”

Leah smirked as she straightened. “Up.”

Sy’s gaze moved up the facade of the cabin all the way to the roof. “What is it with you and rooftops?”

“It started because I liked climbing things that weren’t supposed to be climbed. I kept it up because it was a good way to escape and clear my head.”

Leah jumped up, catching the rafter with both hands. She lifted her legs, hooking one knee over her opposite elbow and using the hold to free the weight from her other hand. Catching the vertical post, she switched her footing again to plant down on the bottom rafter and heave her other leg over the rooftop. Sy was too impressed by her skills for his attention to linger on the flash of skin caused by the movement of the skirt of her dress.

“You know I’m not gonna be able to do all that.”

Leah laughed as she reached a hand out. Sy raised the bag over his head, not wanting her to reach down and lose her balance as she gave him instructions. “Just do a muscle up and lift your leg onto the beam.”

“Why didn’t you do that?”

“Because the other way looked cooler.”

“You sure this old thing will hold my weight?”

“I could get you a ladder if you don’t think you can climb.”

That was the perfect thing to say to get him to stop asking questions and start climbing. It was lucky that his five day break was the longest he’d gone without a workout in over ten years. He did as suggested, easily pushing himself over the beam.

The porche’s frame was a triangular shape with a wooden beam going from the center of the main beam to the peak and two more going outward at an angle. He planted a foot and caught the center beam like Leah had and hefted his weight over the edge. He was much less graceful as he rolled onto the roof but at least he didn’t break his face.

Getting down would be much easier since the lowest point of the angled roof was only about eight feet off the ground.

Leah had unrolled a thick wool blanket above where the stone chimney sat, presumably so that they wouldn’t risk slipping off. It was by the front of the house where the living room was so they were out of sight from the people out back.

“I can see why you like this,” Sy said, stretching out on the blanket next to Leah and looking up at the unobstructed view of the night sky. It reminded him of summers back home in Georgia.

Without the trees’ protection from the wind or the fire, it was much colder but it seemed Leah had planned for everything. Pulling a second blanket over them both, Leah stretched out halfway over Sy with her head resting on his chest.

“I’ve never brought anyone here before.”

“What, ya never dated anyone who could do a muscle up?”

Leah shifted to put a hand on his chest and laid her chin over top. “I meant the cabin in general but you might actually be right about the muscle up thing.”

Sy folded his arm behind his head, propping himself up so he could meet her gaze. His gorgeous blue eyes were normally framed with dark circles and frown lines, a consequence of the hard lifestyle he led, but now his expression was softer, filled with fondness.

“Good. Ya looked fuckin’ sexy out there tonight, I don’t like the idea of anyone else gettin’ to see my girl like that. This outfit has been drivin’ me crazy all night.” His hand found her thigh, threatening to slip under her dress.

Until she met Sy, Leah had never thought she would find possessiveness attractive but his statement lit a spark of excitement within her. It was the same feeling she got whenever he praised her or said the words ‘good girl’. It was just another thing to add to the list of conflicting feelings she had towards sex.

She didn’t have much experience but she was pretty sure that made her submissive in some way though she wasn’t sure how that made any sense. Her knowledge of the subject was limited to what she’d read in books and those dom/sub relationships had all heavily revolved around sex.

“Hey…” Sy’s fingers tracing Leah’s brow pulled her out of her head. “Where’d you go just now? Your entire body went stiff as a board.” As if to prove his point, Sy put his hands on the back of her neck, using gentle pressure to knead the tension from her muscles. “Did I do something wrong?”

She hated that his honest question made her feel guilty for causing him to worry. That was another thing Leah had never realized until she met Sy. Her previous relationships had messed her up more than she ever thought they had. 

“Leah, look at me.” That was his ‘captain’ voice—low and assertive. Leah had no choice but to obey. “You made me a promise,” he reminded her.

“No,” Leah licked her lips before pulling her bottom lip between her teeth. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

Hoping he was reading her body language correctly, Sy slid his hand from Leah’s nape to her throat. He didn’t apply any pressure, only keeping a light hold that could easily be broken.

“You like when I call ya mine?”

She swallowed thickly, her throat moving against his palm before nodding.

Keeping his hand in place but being careful not to jostle her, Sy rolled Leah onto her back. 

They were nose to nose as he spoke. “I got the impression you were in a particular mood earlier when you offered to let me check your panties. Am I right?”

“Yeah.”

“You still feeling the same way?”

“Yes.”

Getting to his knee, Sy took the blanket from where it had fallen as he flipped Leah over and quickly folded it up to tuck it under her as a pillow. He planted his hands on either side of her head, holding his body off her.

“Do you wanna take orders like a good girl or would you rather take the lead?”

“The first one.”

“Okay, then I need you to tell me exactly what you want. Where I can touch you, how much clothing comes off, how far you want to go.”

Sy was pleased that Leah took a few seconds to reflect on her answer, giving him confidence that she wasn’t pushing herself past her limits to please him.

“Clothes can fully come off. Legs, ass and everything above the belt is safe to touch however you enjoy. I’m not sure about oral but hands for sure.”

Lowering himself down, Sy placed a series of kisses down her jaw. “Thank you.”

Leah turned her head, capturing Sy’s lips in a sensual kiss. When she began to lift the hem of his shirt, Sy caught her wrist.

“Don’t wait for me to check in to tell me you don’t like something. You’re trustin' me to stick to your limits and I’m trustin' you to tell me if they change.” Sitting back on his haunches, he let go of her wrist. “Take my shirt off.”

The cold wasn’t a concern for Sy but he didn’t know if his body heat would be enough to keep Leah warm so he didn’t want to undress her just yet.

She didn’t seem in a rush either, studying his body as her fingers explored his skin. Unlike the first time she’d touched his stomach, her touch didn’t cause anxiety to spark in his chest. He hadn’t expected for it to feel freeing for her to know the story behind his scars and for her to accept it but it was like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders.

When Leah sat up, Sy expected for her to pull her dress off but, instead, she slid a hand to the small of his back, holding him close as she placed gentle pecks along his collar bone. Her movements were tender, almost reverent as she worked her way over both shoulders before moving up to tease his neck with open-mouthed kisses.

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been on the receiving end of this kind of affection. Maybe even never.

It felt amazing. How had he made it over fourteen years without ever realizing his neck was that sensitive?

The soft scratch of her teeth as she nipped his throat pulled an audible groan from him, leading her to move her hand up to hold him in place as she repeated the action with more force. His head fell to the side in a silent message for her to do with him as she pleased so she took the opportunity to lock her lips over his pulse point and suck.

Eyes tightly shut, Sy relished the slight sting of his blood being drawn to the surface. With how badly his cock was throbbing, it was hard to imagine there was even any left to leave a mark but when Leah finally lifted her head, she made a pleased sound at the sight of the newly formed hickey.

“You like seein’ your mark on me, baby?” Sy’s hands gripped both of her thighs, possessively kneading her flesh. “You like knowin’ that I’m yours as much as you’re mine?”

For someone who was not normally a big talker, Sy was surprisingly proficient at dirty talk. It was still quite tame all things considered but it still made her heart race.

“Yes.”

Looking down at her spread legs, Sy caught sight of the black lines poking out from the skirt of Leah’s dress.

“Lay back,” he ordered, taking a moment to undo his pants and give himself a bit of relief. “It’s my turn.”

Her breath hitched as she obeyed both from the arousal brought on by his command and the worry of what Sy might do next.

Sensing the shift in her body, Sy made his intentions clear. “I want to see your tattoos up close. I wanna memorize how each one fits your curves just right.”

He dragged the hem of her dress upwards, pausing only long enough for Leah to lift her hips and allow the fabric to pool around her stomach.

With the clear night sky and the distant glow of the bonfire, Sy could clearly see the intricate patterns dancing across Leah’s creamy skin, only obstructed by her underwear.

“Can you take these off for me, darlin’?”

She’d already said that clothing could fully come off but he was about to get up close and personal with her thighs and he didn’t want her to feel over-exposed. He was giving her the option to refuse but she didn’t take it, simply working them down her legs at what felt like a torturously slow pace.

Sy could see the glistening of her arousal at her apex and he made a mental note to ask her about that later. She’d been clear the night before that she wouldn’t want Sy to reciprocate if they did something intimate but she hadn’t said if that meant that she didn’t want to come at all or simply not by his hand.

For now, he turned his focus back to his task and traced her ink with his lips. Once he finished exploring her right leg, he moved to her other side, being mindful not to touch the fresh tattoo with his hands or his mouth. The last thing he wanted was for it to get infected and cause problems once they got back.

“Fuck babygirl, you are so goddamn beautiful,” he mumbled as he pushed the dress higher and made his way up Leah’s stomach, seeking out her final tattoo. “Nothing I imagined over the last months even came close to the real thing.”

With her dress completely removed and her bra following soon after, Leah was left in only her long socks and the look was way sexier than it had any right to be. It somehow simultaneously looked innocent and dirty and Sy couldn’t help picturing Leah kneeling for him in that same outfit.

He’d never ventured into BDSM further than giving the occasional order during sex but if Leah was amenable, he’d take great pleasure in learning what they both liked.

As Sy gazed down at Leah with obvious adoration, all Leah could think was how lucky she was. She wanted to express her happiness but her stupid feelings left a giant lump in her throat and the words just wouldn’t come so instead she tugged on Sy’s beard and brought his lips to hers.

It was nothing like the gentle caress they’d previously shared. This kiss was dirty and frantic like they were both afraid that the other would disappear at any moment.

Needing to give his aching dick some relief, Sy palmed his crotch over his underwear but it only seemed to make him more desperate.

“What should I do with this, baby?” he asked when they both took a second to catch their breaths. “You wanna watch me get myself off or do you wanna help?”

“Help.”

“Then take me out,” he growled, removing his hand to lift his body into a push-up position.

Leah slid his underwear and jeans over the curve of his ass. When she couldn’t reach any farther, she pushed them the rest of the way down with her foot. They got caught around his ankles since neither of them had taken the time to remove their shoes but it was good enough.

Sy could have wept when Leah finally wrapped her hand around his erection. Despite coming just a few hours earlier, Sy already felt like he was teetering on the edge and about to tip over at any moment.

Forehead to forehead, they both watched with rapt attention as Leah’s hand moved up and down his shaft. Then, in a completely unexpected but immensely arousing move, took her hand away just long enough to collect the wetness that pooled at her entrance and use it as lube.

“Oh fuck, that’s hot.”

His head fell to the crook of her neck, his hot breath fanning her skin as he panted. With Sy’s shoulder presented so nicely, Leah didn’t think twice before sinking her teeth in the defined muscle. Cute aggression was a real thing. Tangling his fingers in her hair to keep her in place, Sy released a deep groan. 

It took all of thirty seconds afterwards for thick ropes of cum to paint Leah’s stomach. Sy’s entire body shivered as the pleasure coursed through him, the hand on his cock not stopping until it milked every last drop of his release.

Feeling boneless, Sy rolled onto his side before he collapsed over Leah and crushed her under his significantly heavier weight.

“Give me a second and I’ll find something to clean ya up.”

He needed to recover from the out-of-body experience brought on by that orgasm because he had never come so hard in his entire fucking life. 

“There’s baby wipes in the bag.”

Sy huffed a laugh. “Life of a soldier.”

Reaching behind him, Sy retrieved the bag and found the plastic packet at the very bottom along with meal replacement bars, a knife, a flint and a paracord bracelet.

“What kind of kinky shit did you have planned for us up here?” he teased, pulling out one of the wipes and diligently cleaning Leah’s stomach and chest.

“That’s my cabin bag,” she defended, “those things are always in there.” She had to admit that with a bit of creativity,  those items would, indeed, make for some kinky love-making.

“Hand,” he requested as he pulled a fresh wipe from the pack.

Once he had finished with Leah, Sy took care of himself and set the soiled wipes aside to be dealt with later. He pulled his pants back up but left his shirt off for the moment. 

Leah followed his lead, redressing before pulling their drinks out of the bag.

“How long have we got before they come lookin' for ya?”

“They won’t really be looking for us unless one of them is about to leave but I’d like to go spend a bit more time with them before the evening is over.”

“Of course,” Sy agreed, shuffling around so he sat with Leah between his legs and wrapped them both in the soft blanket.

They stayed that way until they had finished their beers then Leah showed Sy the best foot holds on the stone chimney to help them climb down a few feet before having to jump the rest of the way.

Valentina shot Leah a knowing wink as they rejoined the dancers while the boys glared at Sy when they noticed his neck but none of them attempted to punch him in the face so he considered it a win

There were only a few people left by the time the fire had almost fully died down, most of the people having carpooled to have a designated driver. Everyone had pitched in to clean the yard so all that was left to do was load the speakers back into Camden’s car and fold up the remaining lawn chairs that had been arranged around the fire pit.

The music’s volume had been lowered to serve as background sound for the quiet conversation. Leah was falling asleep on Sy’s lap, bundled in one of his hoodies, but she refused to go to bed until all her friends had gone home.  In the end, Sy had to carry a sleeping Leah to bed under Caleb’s watchful eye.

Out of habit, Sy walked Caleb to his car as if it were his own home. Before getting in, he offered Sy his hand to shake.

“I was planning on meeting Leah for lunch next week. I hope you can join us.”

Sy clasped Caleb’s hand in his. “I’ll be there.”

Chapter 24

[urmommies--girl]

Oohh imagine having 2 seperate hook up buddies and they don’t know about each other until one walks in on you fucking the other and it turns in to a messy threesome with a load of degrading and roughness (Darkling/Bekker, Sirius/Remus, Cap/Bucky, like idc who it is but imagineee) -🐸

A//N: THIS ISNT EXACTLY IT BUT I HAD THIS AMAZING IDEA. SO A CROSSOVER FUCK BETWEEN ALEKSANDER AND GERALT LIKE HOLY SHIT. I LOVE 2AM BRAIN. I’M ALSO GETTING BILLY RUSSO AND FRANK CASTLE VIBES FROM THIS

Warnings: 18+ only, Smut, dom!Aleksander Morozova x dom!Geralt of Rivia x sub!reader, unprotected sex (wrap before you tap), breeding kink, heavy degradation, double penetration, crossovers, oral (m receiving), manhandling, anal, choking, brief knife/sword play, sensory deprivation??? (Aleksander clouding your vision with shadows), use of magic during sex, pain kink, mentions of blood, just a bunch of dark horny shit

Words: 1.1k

Black was all you could see but it wasn’t all you could feel. Hands travelled over your body, groping your breasts and kneading the flesh of your ass before traveling to your neck.

“Be a doll and let us use you how we please.” Aleksander’s hoarse voice travelled through your ears but you couldn’t see him through the thick cloud of shadow.

A cool metal slid through the valley of your breasts, sending a shiver up your spine.

Geralt roamed the smooth end of his sword along your stomach causing you to whine, “Please.” You sobbed as your bottom lip jutted out in a pout, “What do you want, princess?” The Witcher’s cool voice rung out as he pressed the sharp point of the sword into your flesh.

“F-fuck.” Your hips stuttered as your back arched off the bed.

A metallic clink reverberated through the room, followed by the sound of a zipper being undone. You squirmed nervously but froze when you felt a pair of hands on your waist— manhandling you onto all fours.

The discarded leather of Aleksander’s belt wrapped around your wrists, bounding them together behind your back.

You were still blinded by the ebony fog so you didn’t realise until it was cleared that Aleksander was preparing his cock at the entrance of your mouth.

“Who knew such a pretty girl could have such a dirty mouth.” He mused, causing both men to smirk sadistically as you squirmed around, eyes wide in fear, “Maybe a good face-fucking will fix that.”.

Aleksander forced your lips open and shoved his cock down your throat, encouraging a violent choke out of you. You tried to stabilise your self but the force his thrust unbalanced you, leaving it up to Geralt to keep you upright.

“Little bunny’s to pathetic to even suck cock.” He mused from behind you, dropping his own belt. 

“Think she just needs a bit of encouragement. Isn’t that right, dove?” Aleksander hummed above you, lifting your chin to look you in the eyes. You gazed up at him with wide and pleading eyes. 

Your silent plea was ignored as he began to thrust in and out of your mouth, enticing gags from you each time.

You were so enveloped at the feeling of Aleksander’s cock impaling your throat and trying to even your breaths that you hadn’t realised Geralt was preparing his own length against your ass.

You moaned loudly around the cock in your mouth as Geralt entered you in one clean thrust.

Both men groaned in satisfaction; Aleksander at the way your moans vibrated on his length and Geralt at the way your tight velvet walls clenched around him.

“Fuck. She’s squeezing me like a vice. Knew her ass would be tight.” You heard Geralt grunt as he thrusted his hips to yours, “You should feel her mouth. Feels like fucking heaven.” Said Aleksander as his hands tangled in your hair to force you further down on him.

They fucked you in tandem, Geralt slamming his hips to yours sending you choking on Aleksander’s cock.

“Shit. I’m gonna cum.” The man in front of you groaned, speeding up his pace. “Y’gonna swallow it all like a good girl?” He hummed, causing you to nod as best as your could.

Soon enough Aleksander was releasing his load down your throat, holding your all the way down until you swallowed it all.

He pulled off and your gasped for breath.

Geralt tugged at your bound arms as he arched your back into him, looking smugly at your fucked-out expression as he continued to rut his hips behind you, watching as your mouth formed an ‘O’ shape and moans spilled from your lips.

You were so caught up in the pleasure the Witcher was giving you that you hadn’t noticed Aleksander positioning himself in front of your weeping pussy.

Your eyes flicked to Aleksander as he entered your hole.

“Aleks-“ You gasped, clawing at your restraints, the dark haired male pulled you away from Geralt to capture your lips in a passionate kiss, “Such a wet fuckhole. S’this all for us?” He grunted, thrusting his hips. 

You nodded desperately, “Yes- fuck- yes! All for you, please-“ You were cut off my a large hand coming behind you to attach to your neck and a finger slipping past your lips.

“Sluts don’t talk.” Geralt whispered into your ear.

Tears streamed down your face at the feeling of being full on both ends.

“These tears for us, pretty? Is it too much for you?” The taunting of Aleksander’s voice was heard from in front of you, you tried to speak only to have Geralt’s hand squeeze your neck tighter. “That’s right. Fucktoy’s don’t get opinions.” He mused.

You felt Geralt’s hips stutter and his cock twitch inside your ass, “Fuck. I’m gonna cum.” He groaned into your ear, you whined in response and tried to buck your hips against him, “You want that, bunny? You want my cum inside you?” Hummed the Witcher, you nodded desperately, “Mhm.” Was all you could manage as your mouth was still filled by his fingers.

Soon you felt the warm release spill into you as the white haired male’s hips stilled inside you.

As Geralt pulled out Aleksander continued to thrust relentlessly.

Aleksander’s hands found your hips to stop you from completely toppling onto him, he changed you position so you we on top of him, riding his cock. Although you had no energy you tried to buck your hips as best as possible to meet with Aleksander’s thrusts.

“Dirty little whore.” He cursed as he nipped the thin skin of your neck before increasing the pace of his thrusts.

You could feel Kirigan swell larger inside you causing your walls to instinctively clench around him, the tidal bliss beginning to bloom like a ring of fire inside your womb.

Sensing your nearing orgasm, Aleksander lifted your hips only to slam you back down on him, moving your body like it was putty.

“Your Witcher can’t breed you, can he?” He questioned with a smirk as he referred to Geralt, “but I can…I’m going to fill that womb with my seed,” He groaned as you cried out, begging him to let you release.

“Please Aleksander! I need it so bad! Please can I cum on your cock?” You practically yelled, desperate to get your own release.

“Go on. I wanna feel you clench around me.” He grunted, slamming you down at a vigorous pace. Your weeping cunt gave way as your juices spilled over his cock, milking Aleksander in the process, encouraging him to release within you. 

The warm seed spilled deep inside you as Aleksander came with a loud groan, allowing you to finally fall on top of him, panting heavily.

You felt Geralt move behind you and whined but he soothed you with a large hand stroking down your spine. He removed your restraints and let your arms wrap around Aleksander.

“Good Girl.” He praised, kissing your forehead.

[jaskierswolf]

Wild Blue Yonder

My second fic for @thewitcherbog's Horror and the Wild week!

Suggested and Beta by @geraltrogerericduhautebellegarde. It got a bit out of hand.

Have 5k of Geraskier bookshop AU feat. Fake Dating

CW: mentions of sub/dom vibes but nothing explicit

_

The bell over the shop rang just as Geralt was starting to wind down, not five minutes before closing. He was already in a bad mood: the finances for the store were looking dire and he was having to face the fact something needed to change to get more customers into the shop. So really the last thing he wanted right now was a shitty customer at the end of the day who probably just wanted to browse the comic books without buying anything.

Customers that came in at the very end of the day were always the worst, and Geralt just didn’t have the patience.

“We’re closing soon,” he grumbled as he peered around the store, not seeing where the arsehole had snuck off too, but he could hear the trill of someone singing behind the shelves.

Just what he needed.

“Oh, oh, right, yeah, that’s- that’s not a problem. I know what I want!” The voice called back, completely ignoring the growl in Geralt’s tone.

Idiot.

“Be quick.”

“Right, yes, well maybe you can… oh…”

Piercing blue eyes peered around the bookshelf and the man trailed off, face blushing red as he chewed on his bottom lip, which was unbelievably distracting. The brunet ran his hands through his hair, knocking bits of flour onto the wooden floor, and Geralt’s gaze was torn away from the man’s face to his clothes, covered in bits of batter and nearly white from the flour. How the fuck had that not been the first thing he noticed? The man was a complete mess.

“Maybe I can?”

The man’s jaw snapped shut and he smiled sheepishly. “Help?” he squeaked then cleared his throat. “I mean, umm, hi. I’m looking for the music books? I- I umm… I just started blowing- playing! Playing the flute. Ah fuck.”

Geralt chuckled and rolled his eyes. “This way.”

He led the budding musician through the shelves until they reached the back of the shop. The first thing he noticed was that the man seemed incapable of silence.

“I started on piano when I was a kid, my parents enforced it really, good for the old brain cells, but well… Teenagers? I wanted to be cool. So I picked up guitar instead,” the man winked, wiggling his fingers. “Good for practicing my fingering.”

Geralt groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose and he let out a slow heavy breath. Suddenly he regretted the Pride flag at the back of the store. He’d like to go one day without some twink hitting on him.

Although, judging by the thickness in this man’s arms and thighs, and the peak of chest hair from just under his t-shirt… maybe he wasn’t so much of a twink as his general aesthetic gave out.

Not that Geralt was looking.

He wasn’t.

“Just choose the damn book,” he muttered, louder than he meant to.

“Alright, grumpy!” Came the reply and the man swatted Geralt on the arm. “I still have ten minutes, right?”

“Still need to pay.”

“Yes, yes. I know. I’m Jaskier by the way.”

“Geralt,” he replied without thinking.

Fuck. That was only going to encourage the- Jaskier.

“Well, it’s lovely to meet you, Geralt,” Jaskier winked and plucked a beginner’s flute book from the shelf. “Shall we?” He gestured towards the till near the front of the store.

Then he brushed past Geralt without even looking at him. The scent of chamomile and lavender wafted in the air as he passed and Geralt found himself watching Jaskier as he strutted to the till, the curve of his arse in the far too tight jeans. He had to admit, even if just to himself, that he’d been wrong about his last minute customer. Despite the noise and the whirlwind that was Jaskier… he’d been alright.

And Geralt would get to leave nearly on time, safe in the knowledge that he probably wouldn’t have to meet the handsome stranger again.

Shit.

____

Over the next week Geralt found his thoughts drifting back to soft blue eyes and the scent of chamomile and lavender. He fell asleep more than once wondering how Jaskier would fit in his arms, the weight of him against his chest. Whenever the bell of the shop chimed his eyes would flash to the door, only to be disappointed when a parent dragged their child through the door, or a lone teenager would shuffle in, head down and timid. The worst part was he found himself gazing out the shop window, watching the crowds go past to see if he could spot that mop of ruffled brown hair.

He was a mess.

It was really fucking frustrating. Geralt had never really felt this attached to anyone in a while, and he put it down to not getting laid in a while, but a few phone calls and a rather spectacular evening with Yennefer and her strap later… he was still caught up on Jaskier. Worse still, was that Yen had made it very clear that she wouldn’t be used as a substitute for his mysterious bookshop crush.

“You’re not-” he’d tried to protest, as he rested between her thighs.

“Don’t lie to me, Geralt, this has been fun but we stopped hooking up for a reason. Out with it!” her tone had left no room for argument and he’d always been useless beneath the heat of her violet eyes so he’d told her everything.

She’d scoffed and told him not to come back unless he had Jaskier’s number in his phone.

So now, he was sulking, pouting as he gazed out the window helplessly. The bookshop was dead, and he hadn’t had a single customer all morning, just dust floating under the lights and hustle and bustle of pedestrians outside, all wrapped up in scarves and beanies. The plan of the day was to think of a solid idea to draw more customers inside the store, or failing that work out what stock they could afford to switch out to be more appealing to the masses.

But he kept coming up blank.

It was useless.

He groaned and ran his hands through his hair, pulling it from the tie before dropping his head on the counter. The store had been his father’s and Geralt had always been so excited to take over, more so than any of his brothers, but he was failing. He was crashing and burning where he’d been so desperate to succeed. The bookshop was falling apart, drowning in a sea of debt and Geralt was barely staying afloat.

Fuck, he needed help.

The bell chimed.

“Ah Geralt!” Jaskier called, looking like an angel as he swept into the store. His beanie was hiding the shock of hair underneath but Geralt noticed a stray… blue curl?

“Jaskier,” he greeted with a grunt, pretending that he wasn’t completely over the moon to see the man. “You dyed your hair.”

Jaskier’s fingers reached up to touch the curl from underneath the hat, his cheeks were rosy from the cold and his eyes… god, his eyes were even more beautiful than Geralt remembered. He looked cosy wrapped up in a thick woolen coat and scarf that was really too warm even for the chill outside. The idiot looked like he was going out in the snow, not a quick jaunt to the bookstore.

It was… endearing, and Geralt found himself a little lost in the blinding presence that was Jaskier.

“You noticed?” Jaskier asked with a bashful smile.

“I- yeah,” Geralt felt his own cheeks heat up, and he swore gently under his breath as he turned around, hoping Jaskier wouldn’t notice and busying himself with a book behind the counter.

“Awww, you sap. Been thinking about me?”

“No.”

“Rude!” Jaskier laughed in mock outrage. “You could have lied, Geralt.”

Geralt turned back around to find Jaskier pouting at him, one hand resting on his hip. “Are you here to buy books or flirt?” he grumbled.

“Wasn’t flirting.”

With a scoff, Geralt just rolled his eyes. They both knew that wasn’t quite true.

“Oh fine, you caught me. I was flirting, but actually I’m here for a new cookbook. My dearest, darlingest mother is coming to town and is under the illusion that I can function like an actual adult. So… you know… I’m making dinner?” Jaskier looked less than pleased by this, and Geralt couldn’t help but laugh, remembering the mess of flour that had covered the man on his first visit to the shop.

“Stay clear of flour,” he shot back without even thinking.

“Oh, ha ha!” Jaskier glared and then very slowly in the silence that fell between them, his face lit up. “You have been thinking about me!”

“Shit, no.”

“Yes, you have!”

“Really haven’t.”

But it was too late and Geralt knew it. His own smile gave him away, and despite all the stress he was under, he didn’t feel so bad with Jaskier. It was easy to talk to him, to open up, more than anyone Geralt had ever met before even if he’d known them for years. There were books resting on the shelves, lost and forgotten, that weaved brilliantly stories of soulmates, love at first sight and hopeless romantics. It was all a fairytale, an unachievable goal for Geralt.

Until Jaskier, no… this time Geralt was done for, and he knew it.

“Did you need help?” he asked before he’d even realised.

“W-what?” Jaskier’s eyes went wide and he stared at Geralt as if he’d grown a second head.

“Umm… finding the book,” Geralt explained quickly, but he had a feeling that Jaskier knew that wasn’t exactly what he’d meant.

Fuck. Two meetings with the man and he was already offering to help make dinner for his parents.

“Right, yes… the book. In the bookshop, the bookshop that we’re in…” Jaskier muttered, pulling his beanie off and scraping his fingers through the bright blue hair. It was wild and beautiful and suited Jaskier more than Geralt had expected… he realised he’d been rather attached to the mousy brown, but Jaskier was colourful in his personality… everything that Geralt was not.

_

“Do you have his number yet?” Yen’s voice drawled over the phone as Geralt sat in the dark, hunched over his office desk, the tiny lamp barely lighting up his books and he was squinting through his glasses just to see the words.

He didn’t reply to Yen, instead just glaring at his phone. It had been a few days since the dinner incident as he now referred to it, and he hadn’t seen Jaskier since… which was fine. People didn’t buy books that often, and there was no need for Jaskier to come to the shop, but Geralt couldn’t help but hope that he might see him out in the wild.

Not that he really went out much, but there was always food shopping, or picking up dog treats for his mutt.

He was just fucking desperate.

“Geralt, I know you’re not ignoring me.”

“What do you want me to say, Yen?” he sighed, pitching the bridge of his nose. He knew she was having far too much fun tormenting him with this, and he had no idea how to respond. It was just a stranger in his book shop. He saw strangers in the shop everyday, not as many as he’d like but they were there.

Jaskier shouldn’t have been special.

But he was.

With his mermaid hair and his heartwarming smile that had somehow wormed his way into Geralt’s heart in mere minutes. It was really fucking inconvenient, especially now Yen had decided to make it her business. Sometimes he wondered whether she had anything better to do… clearly not, but maybe this was just her way of showing she cared. They’d never been very good at that in the past, arguing with every breath and then fucking like rabbits as if that would hide the cracks in the glass heart of their relationship.

He groaned again and jabbed at his phone, hanging up on her and switching the mobile off. It was late and he was tired… well… it wasn’t that late but the winter nights were long and the dark made him weary.

God, he hadn’t even had dinner yet.

“Fuck,” he sighed and move into the tiny kitchen.

Living above the bookshop had its perks, the non-existent commute for one, but the living space was shit. He barely had room to move about in the kitchen, let alone prep food the way he used to always love in the old family home. So these days he lived off take-aways and ready-meals, processed shit that he didn’t really enjoy but it was better than nothing. Before he could wallow in his own pity, the bookshop phone rang downstairs.

That was… strange.

The phone barely rang during the store’s opening hours, and normally it was Geralt ringing his suppliers and not the other way round. His curiosity got the better of him and he padded downstairs, wiping his eyes to try and fight the exhaustion that was drowning him.

“Kaer Morhen Books,” he grumbled into the phone.

“Geralt?” the lilting voice from his dreams asked, sounding panicked even just on the one word.

It took Geralt’s brain a minute to process, despite the fact he’d recognised the voice instantly. “Jaskier?”

“Umm… yes? Yes, hello. Look, sorry to bother you, but I- I…” Jaskier stammered, and Geralt could imagine the mess of probably now faded blue hair and his fingers tugged at the strands, his teeth catching on his bottom lip.

“Spit it out, Jask.”

“Did you mean it?”

Geralt frowned, perching on the counter and pressing his fingers against his forehead. “Mean what?”

“Help me? With- with dinner? The recipe seemed so simple and- and… fucking bollocks, Geralt I can’t do this!”Jaskier seemed to be struggling to breathe, the words stuck in his throat.

“Hey, Jaskier, Jask… it’s okay. You’re okay. I can help. Where do you live?”

Jaskier rattled off an address nearby, within walking distance of the book shop. So, Geralt scooped up Roach, the small dog yapping as it licked his face, snapping at his fingers when Geralt pulled a treat from his pocket. Then he pulled on his winter coat, grimacing at the feel of poo bags in his pockets, and he headed out into the cold.

To Jaskier.

The wind bit against his skin, making his nose run and he buried his hands under his armpits to keep warm, keeping his head down as he walked. Despite it only being the end of autumn, Geralt wouldn’t be surprised if it started to snow soon. The temperature was a lot colder than he expected. Shadows moved around him in the dark as the carlight flew by, giving his simple small town a mysteriously dark vibe that Geralt wasn’t sure he liked. If a werewolf dived out from the alleyway then it wouldn’t exactly surprise him. He was beginning to feel like he’d walked straight into a movie with his whirlwind romance and the misty clouds half covering the moon.

Luckily it wasn’t hard to find Jaskier’s house, a small flat barely ten minutes away from where Geralt lived. The lights were on and even from the road, Geralt could hear music blasting from the walls. He approached the house, his heart fluttering in his chest, and knocked on the door.

When Jaskier appeared, throwing the door open, Geralt’s nerves all but vanished. Sure, it had been a strange request, but he couldn’t be happier that he’d said yes. Jaskier was wearing a thick dark grey knitted jumper with the sleeves rolled up to the elbows, looking unbearably cuddly, and Geralt could already smell the now familiar scent of chamomile and lavender, which was starting to smell more and more like home.

“You came!” Jaskier laughed half manically, there were several blue plasters wrapped around his fingers and tomato splattered on his face from his battle in the kitchen, not that he seemed to care or notice as he flung his arms around Geralt.

And they were hugging.

The soft whine that hummed in his throat was almost embarrassing but Jaskier’s embrace was tighter and warmer than he’d been expecting and he melted against the smaller man’s chest. “I said I would,” he replied softly, barely resisting the urge to press a kiss to the pale blue hair that tickled his chin.

“Thank fuck, I’m a mess.”

“You’re my mess,” Geralt shot back without thinking. “I mean…. Fuck!”

“Oh, ho, ho! No take backs! I’m yours now. No getting rid of me that easily, darling. Now let’s get inside. There’s no telling what might be out there.”

“Could be wolves,” Geralt murmured, remembering his thoughts from the walk.

“Oooh, or demons!”

“Or… vampires?”

Jaskier laughed, stepping back with a wild grin. “Robot vampires!”

Snorting, Geralt shook his head. “There’s no such thing.”

“Oh, oh and vampires exist do they?”

Geralt shrugged.

“Hypocrite!” Jaskier cried, prodding Geralt in the chest.

“Dinner?” he suggested, before Jaskier could completely derail the conversation. He had a feeling that Jaskier was very good at that; a bundle of energy that would keep Geralt on his toes.

“Dinner!”

The recipe Jaskier had chosen was, in fact, laughably easy; a pasta sauce that would be made in advance and then reheated later at the right time. The man just had negative skill points in the kitchen, not helped by the fluffy white cat that was covered in tomato sauce and was seemingly taking great pleasure in marching on the carpet, leaving small paw prints all over the threads.

“Pegasus, you little shit!” Jaskier cursed and pulled the hissing cat from the carpet, holding the mess of fur at arm’s length with a grimace on his face. “Fucking cock balls.”

“You sort the cat, I’ll sort dinner. When are your parents getting here?”

Jaskier glanced at his watch that looked like it was upside down on his wrist. “Umm… ten minutes?”

“Shit. Hurry up, and clean yourself up whilst you’re at it.”

Still trying to corral the spitting beast in his hands, Jaskier winked. “Yes sir.”

Fuck.

That was… unexpected, but that single word changed the atmosphere in the room, going from a panicked banter to a charged electricity that burned against Geralt’s skin. He swallowed, almost forgetting his own task as he took a step towards Jaskier, like a moth to a flame. Suddenly, images of having Jaskier pinned underneath him flooded his mind, the taste of his sweat on Geralt’s tongue as he worshipped Jaskier’s body, taking him apart bit by bit. It was clear that Jaskier was a bit of a mess, and he was practically begging for someone to help clear his mind.

A surge of lust drove him forward, and the mere idea that someone else may try and lay claim to Jaskier… it lit a fire beneath him that Geralt had thought was long dead.

The cat meowed and hissed loudly, scratching at Jaskier’s bare arms and leaving bloody lines against his skin. It was enough to pull Geralt from his trance, and he blinked, watching as Jaskier tried to subdue his wild feline.

This was why Geralt had a dog. Roach might be a stubborn little shit, but at least she was loyal. Pegasus appeared to have no such attachment to its owner and Jaskier was paying the price.

“You bastard, fucking little piece of shit! That hurt!”

“Alright?”

Jaskier smiled faintly, looking honestly exhausted but Geralt couldn’t blame him. Parents coming to visit was tiring at the best of times, but it was even worse with very limited cooking skills and a cat that seemed to be making everything worse.

“I’ve got this,” Geralt insisted, watching as Jaskier carried the howling monster from the room as he muttered curses under his breath.

With that out of the way, Geralt dumped his coat and rolled up his own sleeves. It was time to get to work. He settled into a familiar routine, chopping onions, crushing garlic and scouring Jaskier’s kitchen for the spare tins of tomato that he thankfully had. There weren’t any stock cubes but Geralt just threw in some extra salt and pepper to make up for it, and luckily Jaskier had purchased some fresh herbs for the occasion. Soon enough the kitchen smelled like Italy and not burnt shit.

Geralt was in his element.

There was a simplicity in collecting the ingredients and making something functional out of seemingly nothing.

“Oh, ho, ho!” Jaskier cried when he re-entered the room. “Geralt that smells… amazing. You’re magic! Truly, brilliant.”

Blushing, Geralt turned around, still stirring the sauce absentmindedly with one hand. Jaskier looked… really fucking good. His woollen jumper, replaced with a shirt and waistcoat, the buttons left undone and revealing a mat of dark chest hair. He was still wearing the same tight jeans, but he’d washed the mess from his face and his blue hair was artfully tousled. It was a really good look on him, and Geralt realised his crush on the man was spiralling out of control- wild and free.

The counters were still a bit of a mess but at least the food would be ready, and with a couple of minutes spare. They could clean up the splatters of red from all over the room together, the carpet was a lost cause but Jaskier had a coffee table that would cover the stains nicely. The pair of them were just lifting it up when the doorbell rang.

“Not bad for ten minutes, eh?” Jaskier laughed with a wink.

“Hmm.”

It really was quite impressive. The onions were quite as soft as Geralt would like them, but the sauce could be kept on a low simmer for a while until they were ready to eat, which would solve that problem. Jaskier and his kitchen looked presentable, and the cat had been distracted upstairs… for now.

Jaskier skipped to the door, and Geralt suddenly realised he had no way of escaping. Jaskier’s parents would no doubt question why he was here, and saying he’d met Jaskier in the bookshop twice before inviting himself around the man’s house was… a little stalkerish; no matter how much it was true.

“Fuck,” he muttered, glancing around the room. The window was an option but it wasn’t very big and Jaskier’s parents would have to blind not to notice Geralt’s lumbering form clambering out into the dark. They would probably think he was a burglar or something.

“Julian!” a shrill female voice called.

“Mother,” came Jaskier’s reply. “Jaskier is fine, thanks.”

“Nonsense, what sort of a name is ‘Jaskier’. Julian was fine for sixteen years, there’s no reason to change it now.”

Rage bloomed in Geralt’s chest. He’d known Jaskier’s mother for approximately thirty seconds but he was ready to commit murder. The complete lack of disrespect was infuriating. Jaskier was an adult, functional or not, and deserved to be referred to the name he choose in his own fucking house. All plans of escape fled Geralt’s mind and with a low snarl he approached the hallway.

“Everything alright, Jask?”

“Ah, yes… fine, thank you, Geralt.”

Jaskier’s mother and father started, peering at Geralt suspiciously, one pair of familiar blue eyes piercing but cold. “And who’s this?” the older man said, looking remarkably like Jaskier but with greyer hair, brunet rather than faded blue, and green eyes.

“Geralt he’s… umm….”

“I’m his boyfriend,” Geralt answered quickly before he could change his mind. His gaze flicked to Jaskier who let out a soft sigh before nodding. “Thought it was about time we meet.”

“Julian, I really don’t-”

“His name is Jaskier,” Geralt growled.

“Geralt, please,” Jaskier whimpered, seeming smaller than Geralt had ever seen him. Gone was the cocky flirt from the bookshop, or even the chaotic whirlwind he’d seen in the kitchen with the innuendos and the coy smiles.

It was heartbreaking.

So Geralt did want any good fake-boyfriend did, and pulled Jaskier into a tight hug, brushing his lips against the man’s cheeks. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine, love,” Jaskier murmured back, “actually… thank you?”

Dinner was a tense affair. Jaskier’s parents didn’t say anything pleasant, only scathing remarks about every aspect of Jaskier’s life right down to the pasta which quickly died when Jaskier mumbled that Geralt had made it, not him. It seemed to be a battle, verbal sparring as parents and son hurled bricks at each other, with Geralt stuck in the middle, building a wall to hide behind with every stone.

The best part was that he got to hold Jaskier’s hand throughout dinner. His palms were sweating and Jaskier’s hand felt too hot in his, but he held him tight, unwilling to let go. After this night, he might never get another chance.

“And whilst we’re at it, Ju-”

Geralt’s glare cut Mr Pankratz off before he could finish the name.

“Jaskier, why on earth have you dyed your hair blue?”

The water glass nearly shattered beneath his fingers, but Jaskier just giggled.

“Funny story actually. I was trying to go blond, but instead of a blond toner I picked up blue, and I thought… why not?” Jaskier grinned, squeezing Geralt’s hand a little tighter.

“Blond?”

“Oh… yeah, I was bored.”

“Huh.”

Geralt tried to picture Jaskier with blond hair, but he couldn’t quite manage it, even with fading blue. He decided he’d like to see it- hell he’d probably like to see whatever Jaskier decided to do with his hair.

“You like that?” Jaskier teased, brushing his lips against Geralt’s cheek. “Well, for you, darling, I would have gone so much blonder.”

He blushed again, and without thinking he pulled Jaskier into a chaste kiss; forgetting this was all an elaborate charade. Thankfully, Jaskier only froze for a moment before smiling into the kiss.

His parents did not look best impressed, but Geralt didn’t care. He’d kissed Jaskier, the man he hadn’t been able to get out of his head since he first left the bookshop. He might not have his number… yet, but Yen would be pleased with this turn of events, and if he was being truly honest- he was proud of himself too.

It had been a long time since he had put himself out there, and Jaskier had met him halfway.

By the time Jaskier’s parents finally left, grumpy and sour faced, Geralt was completely smitten with his fake-boyfriend. He’d learnt a little about Jaskier’s childhood, mostly through the poisonous words of his parents, but the strength and light that Jaskier seemed to have regardless of the pain he’d faced, made Geralt admire him a whole lot more. He discovered that Jaskier worked as a marketing assistant at the local theatre, but his real passion was music, something that Geralt had already guessed from their first meeting.

In turn, Geralt had admitted quietly that the bookshop wasn’t doing so well and he was struggling to draw in customers. Instead of looking pitiful, Jaskier’s face had lit up and he had immediately started throwing out ideas to help. He was so engaging and brilliant and bright, that Geralt had almost forgotten about the two bastards sitting opposite them.

They’d tried to shut Jaskier down, but Geralt had told them to shut up. Jaskier’s idea had been brilliant; a coffee machine in the corner, and maybe some late night live music or poetry slams, any way to create a community in the shop that was sorely lacking.

The idea of Jaskier sat in the large bay window, his guitar resting on his lap as he cooed softly, a string of fairy lights behind his head, and looking like a dream come true. At the end of his set he would meet Geralt’s gaze and smile softly, and Geralt would see the love he felt reflected back in those gorgeous blue eyes.

“Ah, well, this has been lovely,” Jaskier drawled as he practically shoved his parents through the door. “Until next year, and no I’m not coming round for Christmas, once a year is enough I think, good bye!” The door slammed. “And good riddance.”

Geralt chuckled, but the smile was quickly thrown from his face as Jaskier spun around to face him, a smirk playing on his lips. One finger poked Geralt in the chest and the other hand rested on his hip.

“You kissed me!”

Ah fuck.

“Hmm.”

“And whilst we’re at it… boyfriend??”

Geralt swallowed, wondering if he could really make the jump, but the hope that shone in Jaskier’s eyes gave him the confidence to hold his heart out and bare his soul.

He shrugged. “If you’d like?”

“Fuck, shit… I mean- yes. Please. Thank you?”

Geralt laughed, and then they were kissing again. Jaskier’s arms were flung around his neck and he moaned against Geralt’s lips. He was hot, needy… so fucking desperate.

“Christ,” Geralt groaned, the word muffled by the lips against his. “You’ve been driving me mad.”

That only made Jaskier giggle. “You said you hadn’t thought about me? You liar!”

“Hmm.”

“Oh no! No, no, no. None of that, mister-”

“Sir,” Geralt cut him off, raising an eyebrow at Jaskier and delighting in the way he flailed at the word.

“That!” he cried, “was a joke… unless?”

The only answer Jaskier got was another blistering kiss as they fell through the house towards the bedroom, tearing the clothes off as they went. They temporarily got the giggles when Jaskier’s socks got caught as he tried to rip them off, but it only made it better, more real… more human.

By the time they were curled up together, panting and covered in sweat as they tried to catch their breath, Geralt was certain he was half in love. They hadn’t played, too lost in each other-

“Found in each other,” Jaskier had murmured when Geralt mentioned it.

Too wrapped up in each other to bother with negotiations, but Geralt had whispered a few small orders in Jaskier’s ear and god, he’d submitted so easily.

But now they were holding each other tight, still caught up under the covers and hiding away from the world.

“Geralt?” Jaskier said softly, barely above a whisper.

“Hmm?”

“Let’s just stay here - hiding.”

It would be so easy to agree, but he’d already been gone longer than he’d wanted.

Shit.

Roach.

“I can’t… my dog.”

“Oh,” Jaskier whined.

“I’ll need my boyfriend’s number?” Geralt asked, pressing a kiss to Jaskier’s hair.

That lured a melodic laugh out of him, and Jaskier’s arms wrapped tighter around Geralt’s chest. “You drive a hard bargain, boyfriend.”

“Hmm.”

-

With Jaskier’s suggestions, over the next year the bookshop really bloomed. The poetry and music nights were a resounding success, and there was even a book club that met once a week. Jaskier had quit his day job at the theatre and now worked full time with Geralt, manning the coffee machine and making all sorts of increasingly elaborate drinks and helping out on the shop floor.

Geralt stayed behind the till, and dealt with the finances and suppliers just like he always had. Only at the end of the day he didn’t trudge up the stairs to the small apartment that barely fit both him and Roach, no he’d take Jaskier’s hand and they’d walk out together back to their home, with Pegasus tucked into his cat carrier.

The bastard actually made a welcome addition to the bookshop, and was far less destructive than when Jaskier had left him at home. The customers loved him, and he made lunch breaks a lot less stressful, purring in Geralt’s lap as he thumbed through whatever biography had taken his fancy.

And then Geralt’s own fantasy came true as Jaskier played, a soft and romantic ballad that captivated the audience. His eyes fluttered shut as he sang, but met Geralt’s gaze as the last few chords of the guitar faded from the shop.

Geralt hummed and crossed the room to hold his boyfriend in his arms, not caring that they were flirting in front of everyone in the bookshop that they owned.

“How unreasonably in love I am with everything you do too,” he murmured into Jaskier’s ear and pulled him into a kiss beneath the fairy lights.

-

Taglist: @geraltrogerericduhautebellegarde, @comfyswitcherblanketfort, @fontegagrilledcheese, @dani-dandelino, @dapandapod @damnbert @officerjennie @feraljaskier @geralt-of-riviass @kueble @gilberik @llamasdumpsterfire @wherethewordsare @trickstermoose67 @alllthequeenshorses @skai6

[comfyswitcherblanketfort]

Till You Can’t Think

my final submission for @thewitcherbog bingo!!! i am very excited to have actually done let alone completed one of these! the prompt for this one was service top so i went for topping from the bottom 😏

pairing: geraskier (dom geralt/sub jask)

CW: anal sex, anal fingering, dom sub, negotiation, pet names: Sweetheart and baby, i broke my rule about Geralt never calling anyone baby but like, it fit? in this context only? i dont think he’d call anyone that outside play? or other than jask? idk. i feel weird about it still lol

________________

“Sh, sh, shhhh, I know you’re so needy right now,” Geralt purred as he held Jaskier close and let his sub grind against his crotch. He absolutely loved to watch Jaskier get so worked up, especially sat directly in his lap. His eyes would roll back as Geralt trailed his hands over his body and he’d squeeze them tight before trying to open them and look at Geralt through the fog. It was never a rule they set up, but Jaskier always wanted to see Geralt, and Geralt found it incredibly endearing.

“What do you need today, Sweetheart?” Geralt ran his hand over Jaskier’s hair as the brunet bit his lip and whined as he wiggled as if he couldn’t possibly sit still. 

“No cuffs,” he mumbled, back to rutting his half chub against Geralt’s abs. 

Geralt kissed him sweetly and softly, “Mmm, thank you, Sweetheart. Do you want to move? Get all that energy out?” 

Jaskier nodded and squeezed his eyes shut with a high-pitched whine.

“Okay, good boy. One more question then you don’t have to speak, I promise.” Geralt practically cooed as he stroked Jaskier’s cheeks, trying to get his attention while keeping his voice soft, “Do you want to fuck me or something else?”

“Ohhhh fuck you.” 

Geralt always knew he’d found the right option or hit the right spot when Jaskier’s voice dropped down an octave and he drew out his moan like that. He’d get whiny and needy and hit notes Geralt hadn’t thought possible, but when Jaskier really liked something, he damn near growled. 

“Oh-ho-hokay,” Geralt laughed, laying back on their bed and situating the two of them so they could easily shimmy out of their clothes. Jaskier’s hands were all over him as soon as they were both naked. He knelt between Geralt’s thighs and ran his hands up over Geralt’s torso, taking time to grab a handful of his pecks and sigh like it soothed some incredible itch. 

“That’s it Sweetheart, I’m all yours. Take what you need,” Geralt fumbled for the bottle of lube by the bed as he hummed his encouragements, his breath hitching every now and then when Jaskier flicked his nipple or groped at his inner thigh. 

As soon as he uncapped the little bottle, it was snatched out of his hands by Jaskier who quickly covered his fingers and nudged Geralt’s legs farther apart with his thighs. He dragged the length of his finger over Geralt’s hole and earned a delighted chuckle for his efforts. As Jaskier started working up a rhythm circling Geralt’s entrance and almost pushing a finger in before pulling back, he used his other hand to lazily stroke himself. 

“A-are you getting hard for me, Sweetheart? Hm? Go- oh- gonna fuck me till you can’t think anymore?” Geralt stuttered as Jaskier finally pushed one finger inside. 

Jaskier groaned in response, his hips twitching into his hand as he pumped himself in time with his hand opening Geralt up. His whines got higher and higher as he stretched Geralt sloppily. Jaskier always took his time, in and out of play, to make sure Geralt was fully ready for him but he couldn’t focus. Geralt propped himself on his elbows and watched his pretty little sub for a moment, all blushy and desperate for him. Jaskier was watching his fingers disappear inside Geralt, slowly and a little unsteadily, as he squeezed his cock almost in frustration. It was adorable, but Geralt didn’t want his sub frustrated right now. He wanted him satisfied and without a care in the world. 

“Here, Sweetheart, do you need some help?”

“Mhm,” Jaskier nodded as Geralt gripped his wrist and slid one finger down Jaskier’s hand to join his other two inside him. 

“There you go, baby. That’s much easier, hm? Just need a little more. Can you add one more finger for me- Ohhh yes, good boy. Th-thank you,” Geralt guided their hands to pump in and out just enough to really open him up. At this point he did if for Jaskier. He’d be fine with a burn and a little adjustment period, but Jaskier would feel guilty later and Geralt couldn’t have that. 

As soon as he deemed himself ready, Geralt released Jaskier’s wrist and pulled his hands back, pitching his voice down so it was almost a command, almost, “Go ahead Sweetheart. Fuck me until your head’s completely empty.”

Jaskier growled as he lunged forward. Geralt dribbled some more lube as Jaskier rested the tip of his cock against Geralt’s hole. They both hissed at the sudden rush of cold but the distraction didn’t last long. Soon Jaskier was steadily pumping in and out of Geralt, hands planted on either side of Geralt’s ribs. Geralt did his best not to get swept up in the moment and demand more or harder or anything at all. Instead, he caressed Jaskier’s face and mumbled sweet little praises or check ins, making sure Jaskier was getting exactly what he needed. 

When Jaskier was close he wrinkled his nose. Geralt never asked if he realized he did this, but he loved it, as a perfect tell and also because it was adorable. 

As soon as Geralt saw it he tapped the bottom of Jaskier’s chin, “Eyes on me, baby. Mm! Fuck that’s perfect. You’re doing so well Sweetheart.”

With that Jaskier tipped over the edge, swearing and gasping but not breaking eye contact with Geralt. Before he pulled out and before Geralt could even say anything, Jaskier wrapped his still lubed hand around Geralt’s cock and stroked until he came with a shout. 

Coming back to his senses, Geralt realized Jaskier was still trying to rut into him even as he began to soften. 

“Oh, Sweetheart, come here,” he cooed, guiding Jaskier to pull out and snuggle up to Geralt’s chest, regardless of the mess, “Did that help?”

Jaskier just nodded and did his best to crawl inside Geralt's skin as he settled and his breathing began to slow. 

"Thank you…" he whispered, tracing one of Geralt’s scars with his fingertips. 

"For what, Sweetheart?"

“For talking me through it.” his voice was so so quiet, but Geralt thought he sounded much less frantic than when he’d burst into the room before, “It was nice to hear, you know… that I did a good job…” 

“Of course, anything for you,” Geralt whispered before kissing Jaskier on the forehead before tilting his chin up for a proper kiss. He’d want to clean them up before they fell asleep, but it couldn’t hurt to hold Jaskier for a little longer.

[captainsy-cookiemonster]

Tease

(Gif not mine; found on pinterest!)

Anon requested: Geralt and Reader are teasing each other until Geralt snaps and fucks her until she passes out.

Thank you anon for that request ❤️

Summary: You accompany your brother Jaskier and the famous White Wolf on their travels through the Continent. Over the time, you start to catch feelings for the lonesome Witcher, and you decide to act on them – your parents didn’t raise a coward after all. So you keep teasing and teasing, waiting for his strong patience to snap. And when it does, it’s far more than you bargained for.

Pairing: Geralt x 1st person reader; Jaskier x sister!reader

Warnings: +18 minors dni, SMUT (obviously); teasing (badly written, I suck at flirting); rough sex; multiple orgasms (a total of seven); dom/sub; male!dom/fem!sub; mentions of body fluids; overstimulation; begging; marking; size!kink; mature language; took a slightly darker twist towards the end of the, uhm, session; little fluff at the end; friends to lovers (?)

If you're uncomfortable with any of this, do not read!

A/N: Dear anon, I’m sorry i took so long for this. I started this weeks ago and then got stuck... I hope it turned out like you expected.💕

Word count: 6.7k (yup, I can’t keep it short)

Title: Tease

Tagging @littlefreya, @princess-of-riviaa​, @cherry-acid, @ohjules and @achaoticaugust. Figured you might like it ☺️💕

Enjoy ❤️ feedback and reblog are always welcome and appreciated 💕

“Is that the best you can do?” I pant as I raise my blade, pointing it at my opponent, who, with a deep growl, does the same. He swings his sword at me and I dodge it expertly, swinging my own sword at him in return. He delivers blow after blow, and I either block or dodge every single one of them. The dance lasts for a while. We let out teasing remarks, echoed by the clashing of our swords. All the while, my brother sits on a log by the campfire, strumming his lute, composing his next song.

Yeah, being the daughter of the Viscount of Lettenhove has its perks. Father lets us do whatever we want. He was the one who allowed Jaskier to travel the Continent before going to Oxenfurt for some education fitting his status. He was the one who trained me in swordfight and fencing when I asked. And when Jaskier showed up at home two months ago, accompanied by none other than the famous Geralt of Rivia, father allowed me to go with them.

“You fight like an angry kitten, girl!”

About half an hour passes and the sword in my hands begins to feel heavy, but if there is one thing father has taught me, it’s to never let your opponent know they have the upper hand.

“What?” I challenge, “Don’t you have more?”

“Oh, my lady, I could go on for hours,” the White Wolf grins at me tauntingly, bearing his fangs, “but I doubt you can.”

I clench my jaw, frustrated with how easily he read me. With a weak battlecry, I charge at him, but my grip isn’t as strong as it had been an hour ago, and sweaty palms made the handle slippery.

Geralt knocks the sword from my hands in a matter of seconds, spins me around and pulls me against his chest, his blade resting against my throat with just enough pressure to let me know I’ve been defeated.

“It seems, my lady,” he growls into my ear, “That you’re not as strong as you think you are.”

I blame it on the exhaustion that I let my body fall slack against his incredibly broad one, letting out a long breath in an attempt to slow my racing heartbeat. I’m lost in the moment, feeling the flex of Geralt’s strong chest against my back. My mind is racing straight to the gutter with the thoughts of his body against mine. He’s large, handsome and seems to have quite the stamina. In short, I want him. I wanted him ever since the stepped a foot onto my father’s court.

So now I stand there, pressed against him, my head barely reaching his shoulder, his sword against my neck and his growled remark still ringing through my ears. Well, until –

“Hey, listen to this!” Jaskier calls and Geralt quickly lets go of me, marching over to slump down on a log and tears the leg off the rabbit that’s been roasting over the fire. With a little blush tinting my cheeks, I saunter over to where my brother is seated, intentionally passing the Witcher. I sway my hips more than necessary. I know he’s staring.

***

“Sit still, for crying out loud!” I hiss for what feels like the tenth time in just a few minutes. My hands are bloody, the needle slippery and the Witcher’s constant flinching isn’t helping. A bruxa had almost gotten the better of him and it was on me to stitch up the long gash bitch had left along his ribs.

“And they call me a butcher,” Geralt grumbles and then supresses a hiss of pain as I make another stitch.

“It would hurt less if you would stay still,” I mutter, “Or do you want me to kiss it better?”

“As much as I would like that, my lady, I doubt that would work.”

“Then stop whining and let me do what I need to do.”

An hour later, he lies in his bed, ribcage bandaged, and high on herbs that should soothe his pain. I sit at his side watching him, while my brother is out earning some extra coin downstairs in the tavern. Absentmindedly, I run my fingers through the Witcher’s tangled and dirty mane, caress his strong jaw. Luckily, he’s out as a light, so he doesn’t notice.

He looks peaceful now, handsome features relaxed for once. He’s gorgeous, and there is no denying that he makes me feel a certain way. Lost in thought, I keep caressing his cheek and jaw, thread my fingers through his hair. There is a thin sheen of sweat lining his brow, rebuilding within a few minutes every time I wipe it away.

I quickly pull my hand back when I see him stir. Geralt groans in pain, attempting to sit up. In a flash, my hands are on his shoulders, pushing him back down gently but determined.

“No, no, Witcher. Stay down. I’m not stitching you up again,” I scold, dabbing a little sweat off his brow, – again – lingering for just a second longer than necessary.

“You wouldn’t have to in the first place, if you had just followed my orders,” he grunts, then groans again, another attempt to sit up failing.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” I exclaim, throwing my hands in the air in frustration, “But I guess you can be happy someone was willing to play the bait. What would you have done if I hadn’t been there?”

Geralt remains quiet while I turn my back and march over to the table, mixing a new dose of herbs.

“Thought so,” I mutter.

***

Weeks later, Jaskier had convinced Geralt to play bodyguard at some royal banquet – not for the first time, I gathered.

“Well, don’t you clean up nicely,” I grin as I barge into the Witcher’s room, finding him with combed hair for once, while Jaskier tugs the dark blue doublet in place over the light grey shirt, “Why no armour, though?”

“Ask your brother,” Geralt just grumbles, definitely uncomfortable in those new clothes.

I simply shrug and step closer to the broad man, the heavy skirts of my gown rustling as I go.

Bold hands move to touch his medallion, turning the pendant around, so the engraved side is facing outward again. Featherlight, I run my fingertips along the outlines of the snarling wolf, before I let my fingers linger on his chest.

Peering up at him, innocently through my lashes, I catch him staring down at me, not at my face but lower, at the soft swell of my breasts, peeking out from my tightly laced bodice I’ve grown used to over the years.

Once he realizes he’s staring, he clears his throat loudly and takes a step back.

“We should get going,” he mutters, before stepping out of the room.

I’m left behind to stare at Jaskier, dumbfounded. My brother just shrugs, linking his arm with mine to lead me down to the great hall.

The large room is swarming with nobility, the fewest of them I had met before. We find Geralt leaning against the wall, a pint of ale in hand, and not long after, I stand next to him, dumped by Jaskier so he could perform. There is a tense silence between us while I search for something to talk about.

“This isn’t the first time you watch over my brother at a royal party?” I ask clumsily.

“No,” is all Geralt grumbles in return and for a moment, the silence between us continues. Then, “The first time was in Cintra. Didn’t end well.”

I turn to him, surprised that he’s taking. “What happened?” I ask, wide-eyed and curious.

“That’s none of your business, my lady.”

“Jaskier told me you claimed the Law of Surprise? Where is that child it got you?” The question slips out before I can stop it. Anxiously, I bite my tongue while waiting for his answer.

“Where should it be? It’s in Cintra, where it belongs,” comes his grunted reply after a moment.

“You didn’t claim it?”

“No.”

And the silence resumes, weighing heavier than ever. A few young nobles approach over the time, asking me for a dance, but I politely decline every single one of them. There’s only one man here tonight I’d want to dance with, and he’s not even talking to me. Still, I feel him tense up every time the words “My lady, would you honour me with a dance?” are said.

Dinner is served soon enough, and passes rather quickly. All the while, I can feel the Witcher’s glances, but I don’t pay much attention to him, catching up with a friend I haven’t seen in a long time. When he asks me for a dance, I don’t deny him, letting him lead me to the dancefloor. Geralt’s eyes don’t leave me for even one second, until, finally, I see him get up from his seat and come over, determination in his step, making the ground shake – or am I the only one who feels that way?

“Mind if I take over?” his deep, smooth voice sounds honey-sweet as he steps up to us.

“Of course, Sir,” the young knight bows and lets go of my hand and waist. He bows low as we part and I curtsy quickly, straightening back up to meet the Witcher’s amber gaze, a hint of anger dancing in his eyes like a little flame. Within a blink, his right hand is splayed out over the expanse of my lower back, his other one swallowing my own whole, making me feel small and trapped against his large form – an addicting feeling that I’ve craved since the moment I met him.

Geralt starts to sway to the slow music and I follow as he leads me across the dancefloor with surprising ease. Every single step is precise, sheer dominance radiating off him. I wouldn’t have expected a ‘savage’ Witcher, how many people called them still, to be talented in ballroom dancing.

“I didn’t know you could dance,” I smirk up at him, not letting this new discovery intimidate me – his size compared to mine, so close, does that already, but I won’t let it show.

“I get around,” is all he mutters in reply.

“So I’ve noticed.” There’s a moment of silence between us and I use it to trail my hand from his shoulder down his bulging biceps and back up to rest against his chest. I notice him staring at my cleavage again and I bite the inside of my lip not to laugh.

“You think you can do that, hm?” he growls after a while and pulls me closer, chests touching lightly.

“Do what?” I ask innocently, blinking up at him.

“Don’t play coy now; you know exactly what I mean.”

“I am afraid I do not, Witcher.”

“So you want me to spell it you for you, do you?” Geralt hisses.

On the outside, I keep my innocent mask, giving Geralt a questioning look. But inwardly, I’m squealing and grinning. I had finally gotten to him, after months of hinting and teasing, all it had taken was a little bit of jealousy.

“You think you can tease me for months and then take the first chance you get to flirt with another man?” he almost spits.

I bite my lip and peer at him through my lashes. “Well, yes?”

“Oh no, you cannot.” With these words, he pulls me flush against his body and smashes his lips on mine in an urgent kiss. I kiss back just as needy, letting him pry my lips apart without resistance, welcoming his slippery, talented tongue in my hot cavern. The dance long forgotten, we stand on the dancefloor, tightly entwined in each other, letting our tongues do the dancing now.

“Fuck,” I whisper against his lips once Geralt pulls back to let me breathe. Without another word, he takes my hand and leads me out of the hall. If I had glanced over my shoulder, I would have seen Jaskier grinning and nodding at us, but I didn’t, too caught up in the Witcher leading me away.

I stumble after him, struggling to match his fast and urgent pace. Some people give us weird looks, but neither of us cares. Once in an empty hallway, Geralt slams my back against the stone wall, cornering me with his large body. He stares down at my heaving chest.

“My eyes are up here,” I giggle breathlessly, cupping the back of his neck with both hands and pulling him in for another deep kiss. He growls against my lips, the deep rumble shooting straight to my core, slickening my waiting cove.

“How many of these nobles do you know?” he murmurs against my skin as he moves to nip on my neck.

“Too many for you to fuck me here in the hall,” I pant, before biting back a moan threatening to escape.

“Pity. I could take you right against this wall,” he growls.

“As much as I would love that, Geralt, my father would disown me if he was to ever find out,” I mumble, trying to catch my breath.

“That you fucked a Witcher?”

I shake my head, laughing a lightly, “That I fucked in public; not to mention at a royal court. My father does not hold grudges against you Witchers. If he did, he would have never allowed me to come with you,” I point out, playing with the collar of his shirt. “You look very nice, by the way.” I smile up at him, suddenly shy.

“I would have preferred my armour, bu-” I cock my eyebrow at him and he stops his grumbling, smiling down at me softly, “Thank you. You do too, my lady.”

I grin and pull him in for another short kiss, before saying, “But I believe we’d both look better without all these constricting layers. Am I not right?”

Geralt doesn’t say anything, just lets go of a deep growl that makes me shudder before pulling me along the long hallways of the castle towards his assigned chamber. Once inside, he backs me up against the locked door with a predatory look in his eyes.

“You’re really asking for this, aren’t you?” he growls as he grips my hips tightly and pins me to the door.

“Oh fuck, yes,” I breathe in response, fumbling to push the doublet over his broad shoulders. He shrugs it off, the fabric rustling quietly as it falls to the ground. With my fingers tangled in his hair, the Witcher dives forward to claim my lips again, the kiss more urgent than minutes ago.

“How important is that dress to you?” he mutters against my mouth, nipping at my bottom lip, the day-old stubble on his jaw scratching my tender skin as he speaks.

“W-what?”

“I said, how important is that dress to you, my lady. Because I am tempted to tear it off you.”

I swat his hand away playfully as he starts tugging at the bottom of my bodice. “Don’t you dare, Witcher!” Geralt pulls his hands away and allowing me to turn around, my chest pressing against the chill wood as he slowly leans in to start unlacing, lips caressing every inch of skin that’s revealed to his eyes. The bodice falls to the ground with a quiet thud, followed by the rustling of my heavy skirt.

“Too many fucking layers,” Geralt grumbles, tugging at my slip and corset until both join the heaps of fabric on the floor, “But I can still smell how wet you are for me, girl.”

I gasp at his words, turning abruptly to throw my arms around his neck. I pull him in deep, and let him kiss me even deeper. Geralt’s hands wander from my waist down to the back of my thighs, but not before giving the cheeks of my behind a firm, long squeeze. A moan slips escapes my throat, spurring him on as he hikes my legs up to wrap around his waist.

Within seconds, my back is flush against the wall, hips grinding desperately against the hard planes of the Witcher’s body, seeking for some kind of friction. A deep growl erupts from the large animal as he devours my mouth, and suddenly, the constant pressure against my beck is gone, but soon replaced by the sweet softness of the castle’s expensive bedsheets.

Geralt lays me down on the bed, kneeling up for a moment, letting his eyes hungrily rake over my trembling form.

“You’re beautiful, little kitten,” he rasps, before diving back in to claim my lips, but he doesn’t remain there for long.

Slowly, he kisses his way from my lips to my jaw and down my neck, leaving little marks as he goes. He nips and licks at my collarbone, the dark purple marks a stark contrast to my skin. Geralt pulls back a little, admiring his work with lust-blown pupils. My body shakes in anticipation under his hot stare, the gold in his eyes glowing like ember, their heat seeping right into my core.

“I’d say the same about you, but I can’t really see you,” I try to purr, but it comes out as clumsy whisper instead, my brain hazed by the large, handsome Witcher above me and what he’s done so far.

With a sound between chuckle and growl, Geralt dives back in, lips, tongue and teeth caressing and teasing down the valley of my chest, strong hands coming up to firmly knead my tender breast. A whimper slips from my lips as my nipples harden against his rough, warm palms almost instantly, so sensitive, his ministrations send sparks all over my body.

Geralt turns his head and bites into my soft flesh, where it wouldn’t be hidden by any clothes I owned. I gasp as his teeth sink into my breast, gentle, yet hard enough to bruise. He licks and kisses at the stinging skin, humming at my taste as I let out small, breathy moans. The need within my core is burning, I’m trembling and desperate to have him inside me.

“Fuck, Geralt, please,” I whimper weakly between moans and shaky breaths.

He looks at me, a mischievous glint in his eyes as he grins. “Patience, my lady.” With these words, he moves to my other breast, marking it up just like the one before.

“No, please. He’ll see,” I whine, but my words are empty. Deep inside, I love being marked up by the famous Witcher. Deep inside, I don’t care that my brother will see what we did – he knows anyway.

It doesn’t matter anyway; my words fall to deaf ears. I guess he could smell how wet it was making me, so he keeps going, ignoring my pleas. He travels further down my body, marking my stomach, leaving wet, open-mouthed kisses along my ribs and down my torso. Goose bumps rise on my skin as he blows on the wet patches, making me tremble.

Again, he pulls back, admiring his work: a tiny, trembling girl, marked by his lips, teeth and spit. There is a sense of pride in his eyes, like a predator that is about to devour its prey. Oh and devour me he does.

Within seconds, my undergarments are ripped from my body and my legs thrown over the Witcher’s shoulders, before I can even comprehend what happened. Wide-eyed, I stare down at Geralt, propped up on his elbows between my legs, grinning up at me teasingly.

“Please,” I pant, not knowing what exactly I’m asking for. The Witcher ticks his tongue.

“Patience.”

I let out a whimper, the need within my core growing unbearable, but Geralt just grins and starts nipping at the inside of my thigh, up to where I need him the most, but skips my keening folds, repeating the action on my other thigh.

My mind is swimming with just one thought: I need him. With my head thrown back into the soft pillows, I am panting, pleading for him to do something. But his cruel torture continues. He peppers soft kisses all over my mound, inching closer to my heat oh so slowly.

Unable to take it anymore, my hands find themselves tangled in his long, silky mane, trying to tug him to where I need him.

Geralt chuckles against my skin. “So desperate,” he muses in a rough whisper, but he groans when I tug a little harder than before, then inhales deeply. “Fuck, you smell so sweet, kitten.”

I let out a whine at his words, way beyond the point of forming ones of my own. Another chuckle. Another tug on his hair. And then, finally, he lays a small kiss on my lower lips, making me jolt.

“No one’s ever done that to you, hm?” he observes and I shake my head, “But you’re no virgin either.” Again, I shake my head, then gasp as he licks a broad stripe through my folds, from my slit right to my clit. But he spots just before he can touch my little pearl of pleasure. I can feel it throb and let out a whine of protest, wordlessly begging him. For what I’m begging, I’m not sure, all I know it that there is a pit forming in my gut, burning with hellfire, and only one thing can put it out.

Obeying to my pleading, Geralt repeats his action, this time flicking my little bundle of nerves with just the tip of his tongue. But the sensation is enough for me to cry out and clench around nothing. He hums lowly, dragging his teeth along my lips.

“You taste so much sweeter than I first thought, kitten. Fuck, you taste amazing!”

The vibration of his rough voice registers deep in my core, giving him a new wave of wetness to feast upon. With his eyes set on mine, he licks his lips before sinking into my folds, groaning at the taste.

“Fuck!” I cry out, followed by a string of broken moans as he devours me like a starving man. His tongue laps at my insides, discovering new spots that make me buck, just to hold down my hips in his iron grip.

Everything I feel is so strong and new, that it doesn’t take long for my walls to tremble, the pit in my belly threatening to explode. Desperately, I tug on Geralt's strands, but I don’t know if I want him to go deeper or to stop. My legs shake on his shoulders and threaten to clench around his head, but he keeps them open, grunting like a beast as he fucks me with his tongue.

And then, suddenly, I see white, my whole body tenses and twitches. A faint cry of the Witcher’s name rings in my ears and it takes me a moment to realize that it’s me screaming. Wave after wave of euphoria washes through my body, and I’m panting heavily, feeling boneless and limp as my vision clears.

Heavy-lidded, my eyes settle on the man between my legs. Throughout my climax, he kept licking and sucking, and he isn’t stopping. No. Instead, he picks up the pace, tongue plunging in between my petals, drinking in the honey of my pleasure.

Without warning, a finger joins his tongue, and shortly after, I see white again. When I come down, he still isn’t stopping. Fingers crooking in my core, Geralt latches his lips to my sensitive and throbbing pearl. It’s all too much and within a minute, I cum again, convulsing, trembling, spine lifting off the bed. And still, he keeps his ministrations steady, stroking and caressing my insides with two long and thick fingers, crooking them up, fingertips touching just the right spots, while his tongue keeps tracing patterns my poor, throbbing clit.

“Please, Geralt. No more. I can’t. Please,” I beg, not tugging, but pulling on his hair, trying to get him off me. It’s too much.

My pleading is answered with a growl. Like a dog when you try to steal its bone. Low and threatening. A tiny rush of fear flows through my body. He is not going to stop. Not until he has punished me for teasing him and then flirting with other men. The fear washes a new wave of wetness through my core, which he feasts upon, grunting wildly.

“Please,” I whine, one last time. My voice is meek, hoarse from screaming for him before.

“One more, kitten,” Geralt coos then, “I know you can do it. One more time. Cum for me, kitten.”

My body follows his demand before I can even process what’s happening. I cum around his fingers with a strangled cry, my whole body twitching and trembling. Tears fall from my eyes from the intensity of my orgasm, and when I come down, I’m a shaking and sobbing mess.

This is when Geralt finally pulls his fingers from me. I jolt and whimper weakly when he accidentally makes contact with my clit, only briefly, but it’s enough to send painful sparks of overstimulation throughout my whole body.

Geralt comes crawling up to lie beside me, his face glistening with my juices in the candlelight just like my skin is shining with my sweat.

“You did so good, little kitten,” he coos, pulling me into his arms. I cling onto his shirt, balling the fabric in my fist as I bury my face into his chest. Rubbing gentle circles on my back, Geralt whispers soothingly into my ear, calming me down effectively. Once my sob cease, he pushes me back a little to look straight into my eyes. His face is serious, yet his pupils remain lust-blown. It scares me a little. I dread what’s coming, but it excites me nonetheless.

“You know I’m not done with you yet, right?” he asks, but it’s far from a question. It’s a fact. He’s not done with me. Period.

I bite my lip and nod at him, eyes wide and innocent, as if I hadn’t just let him eat me like it was his last meal on earth.

“Are you ready?” his voice is a tad more gentle, now. I shake my head.

“A few more minutes?” I ask timidly.

“Okay.” Still, Geralt gets off the bed and starts stripping of his clothes.

I can’t help but stare at the glory that is revealed to me. Broad chest is littered with scars in all shapes and sizes, and even if I had seen them before, in this setting they make my breath hitch instead of heart clench. He is beautiful, gorgeous even. Dark curls dusting his pecs and lower abdomen, the line of hair disappearing beneath the waistband of his trousers, but lead no doubt to his treasure.

He sheds of his constricting breeches, the outline of his manhood becoming clearer as he stands in front of me in his pants. My mouth water at the sight of him, more so when with one final push, he stands there, completely bared to my eyes. I can’t help but gape at the glorious sight, the famous White Wolf in all his beauty.

“You’re drooling, my lady,” Geralt chuckles as he climbs back into bed, “Ready?”

Again, I shake my head. The spot between my thighs is still pulsing, still sensitive with every move I make. Yet there is no denying that I want him to be inside me. “Just a little bit,” I whisper.

With a low hum, the Witcher wraps me up in his arms, holding me close in his tight embrace. The way we’re laying, it’s almost impossible not to feel his hardness pressing to my side. He’s throbbing already, wet with precum and just as huge as the rest of Geralt.

“Just ignore it,” he mumbles, noticing the slight shift in my breathing, “Wait until you’re ready.”

I simply nod and nuzzle in deeper to his chest, the iron rod wrapped in velvet he calls his cock now pressing into my hip. As worn out as I am, I want him.

So, I slowly start grinding against him, craning my neck to claim his lips. Willingly, Geralt kisses back, probably relieved that I’m ready. He lets me assume control, holding onto my hips as he rolls to lie on his back, our lips not parting. Geralt lets me go at my pace, patiently caressing up and down my sides. I know, by now he’s so hard it must hurt, but still he isn’t rushing me.

After a few minutes of lazy kisses, I slowly pull back, my hands on his chest for support. Geralt looks up at me questioningly, and I nod. He puts his hand on my hips and guides me to kneel up. My eyes grow wide as I see his length, all hard and heavy against his abdomen.

“You can take it,” he encourages, “We’ll take it slow.”

I nod, biting my lip, and reach for his shaft. But he beats me to it, holding his member in one hand, guiding my hips above the tip with the other. Cautiously, I sway my hips back and forth, feeling the head of his cock just between my petals. I slick him up with my juices, watching as Geralt's face twists with the first bits of pleasure he received that night. I feel a little guilty and start to sink down on him, wincing after just a few inches, my taut canal too sore to take him at once. I lift myself up again and then slowly sink back down, taking him a little deeper than before. I continue until there’s only one third to go. There, I stop myself and take a few calming breaths, bracing myself for what I’m about to do.

“Good, so good,” Geralt coos, not catching on to my plan, “You’re doing amazing, little kitte- Ohh.”

With once swift movement, I sink all the way down on him, crying loudly out when his tip meets my cervix.

“Shit,” I hiss, feeling him stretch me out, farther than any other man before, but begin rocking on him anyway, without giving myself much time to adjust, the pain welcome.

“Fuck,” Geralt mutters as I start to bounce on top of him, speeding up relatively fast. Soon, I’m riding him like a wild horse. The pit in my belly starts to grow just as fast, only making me pick up the pace once again. Bouncing up and down on him, supported by his hands on my hips, I can feel every vein and every ridge of his cock inside me, stroking against my walls just perfectly. The way his tip rams into my cervix with every time I sink down on him hurts deliciously. The room is filled with Geralt's deep groans and grunts, and my loud and high-pitched moans of pleasurable pain. Flames lick at my insides and I clench tightly around him, my pace beginning to falter.

Not long before the coil snaps within, throwing me into the abyss of white-hot euphoria. Again, my vision goes white as I twitch and tense throughout my high. Geralt keeps guiding my hips while my head is thrown back, mouth hanging open with inaudible chants of his name. He catches me when I collapse on his chest and carefully turns us around. He kisses me sweetly while riding me through my bliss, prolonging it.

With a sigh, I come back down and cradle his skull, keeping his lips pressed on mine while he rolls his hips against mine, deep and slow. I wince slightly at the overstimulation, but with him inside me, I’m still not sated, even after five orgasms.

“Can you take it?” Geralt asks, propping himself up on his elbows. I nod, hesitantly, still sensitive, but eager for more. “Good.”

With that, he starts to pick up his pace, the rolling of his hips becomes hard, deep thrusts, that gradually become faster. I cling onto his shoulders, dig my nails into his muscle. He is wild from having to hold back for so long. Animalistic grunts leave his throat, rumbling through my body straight to my core. He’s not gentle. No, he’s rough and demanding, now chasing his own high. But it feels good, somehow, to be nothing but an instrument for his pleasure. It’s only fair that he uses me now, after he had given me not one, but five orgasms. It hurts, the way he is rutting into my cervix. I’m sure it’s bruised by now, but the pain feels so good. So good that I catch myself clenching around him once again.

Tears escape from my eyes, but Geralt kisses them away, thrusts becoming faster, deeper and harder once again.

And then my world goes white for the sixth time tonight. I go limp, twitching and trembling beneath him. I cum, sobbing and crying, convulsing around him, but he keeps going.

“Please, I can’t,” I beg weakly, barely at the brink of consciousness, “N-no more. Geralt, I can’t. Please.”

“You can,” he pants, “Just… one more, kitten. You asked for this. You can do it. I know you can. One more time. For me.”

And so, I hang on as he rams into me, hard and fast. Everything is so intense, borderline painful, but the pain only feeds to the bliss. Apart from hurt and pleasure, my mind is blank. All I can do is cling on to the beast above me; how his muscles flex beneath my fingers. He’s large, and I realize that I couldn’t fight him off, even if I wanted to. I am completely and entirely at his mercy. This thought feeds to my arousal like nothing else.

Soon enough I feel him swell and twitch between my velvet walls, and both his thrusts and groans become even more animalistic. In a brief moment of clarity, I wrap my fingers around the chain around his neck and pull him in for a deep kiss, grunts and cries muffled by our lips on each other. His pace is faltering, hips stuttering, and then he spills himself into my core, hot seed splattering my battered walls. He lets go of a deep moan and keeps rutting into me, making sure I get everything he has. The sensation of his essence shooting inside me send me over the edge. I cry out, curses mingling with his name, my mind in a daze as I fall slack against the bed.

I barely feel how Geralt pulls out carefully and cleans me up, whispering gentle words while I just lie there. I don’t understand the words he’s saying, my mind too far gone, but I feel safe in his presence. My world goes black the moment he pulls me into his protective embrace.

*

Hours later, I wake up, still trembling and aching. Geralt must have not slept at all, because as soon as I begin to stir, he peppers my face with soft butterfly kisses.

“Shh, you’re safe, little kitten. I got you. Shh,” he coos as I whimper, gently rubbing my arms and back. “Are you okay?” His question is gentle, but when I turn my head to look at him, his face is as serious as it could get.

“Yeah,” I nod weakly, “It just… it hurts a little.” A lie. It hurts a lot. But I want it to hurt. This was the only night I was able to spend with him, I’m certain, so I want to remember it; I want to feel him for weeks.

“I’m sorry. I was too rough. I couldn’t stop myself,” Geralt rambles and I shake my head, cupping his jaw and kiss his stubbled chin.

“It was a lot, but it was amazing,” I giggle, “You were amazing. I don’t think I ever felt this good, and I doubt I will ever feel that way again. Witcher, you’ve ruined me.”

His low, rumbling laugh is music to my ears. “Good, because I intend on keeping you, my lady.”

“I… what. I thought-”

“Shh, sleep now, little kitten. We’ll talk about this tomorrow.”

With a hum of agreement, I nuzzle up closer to him. Chuckling, Geralt turns to lie on his back and pulls me with him, sprawled out on his chest. There, he hold me close while I press small kisses to the hollow of his throat until I fall back asleep.

*

The morning comes way too soon, bright rays of sunlight breaking through the gaps in the heavy curtains, shining rudely right into our faces. I groan, nuzzling my face further into Geralt's neck, inhaling his intoxicating musk. He rubs my back, laughing quietly to himself and pulls the blanket higher. But as hard as I try, I can’t seem to fall asleep. I let out a frustrated huff as I lift my head, finding Geralt relaxed, with his eyes closed, a soft smile playing on his lips.

“Morning,” I grumble tiredly, making him chuckle as he opens his eyes, peering down at me.

“Good morning, little kitten. Slept well?” His raspy morning voice makes me melt.

“Mhmhh,” I hum, “Just too short.” I’m silent for a moment, contemplating whether I should say it or not. Fuck it. “But I’ve never slept better.”

“Hmm.”

“You said you’re planning to keep me?” I ask timidly, after another moment of silence.

“Only if you want to, my lady.” He turns to his side, holding me so we can properly look at each other. Though his face remains soft and gentle, I can see something in his eyes that makes my heart hurt. He’s afraid I might reject him, scared to be alone. Carefully, I cup his cheek and capture his lips softly.

“Of course I want to, silly,” I smile as I pull back, “I wasn’t just after you because you seemed like a good fuck, Witcher.”

Geralt dips his head down and kisses me again, full of relief. The kiss slowly but surely becomes deeper. Geralt tugs on my bottom lip with his teeth, making me open my mouth to his tongue. Carefully, he rolls on top of me, caging me with his large body. I wrap my arms around his neck, pulling him in deeper as our tongues dance.

A knock on the door makes us jump. The door swings open just a second after, giving us no time to, uhm, change our position.

“Good morni- Wow!” Jaskier barges in without much care.

Quickly, I scramble to pull the blankets up to my chin, glaring at my brother, while Geralt flops down next to me.

“My sister and my best friend,” Jaskier gapes jokingly, “About time. I was getting tired of your constant pining. But next time, keep it down a little, will you. I’m sure the whole castle heard you.”

My face heats up and I quickly hide it against Geralt's chest.

“Is there more you wanted to say, Jaskier?” the Witcher grumbles, wrapping me up in his arms.

“No, just that.”

I don’t see it, but I feel the glare that Geralt sends my brother. Shortly after, the door closes with a bang and we’re left alone. Chuckling, Geralt pries my face from the crook of his neck and hold it gently between his large palms.

“Now, where were we?” he smiles before capturing my lips again, sweetly and full of hope.

Needless to say, we spend the whole day in bed, cuddling, kissing and recovering from the night before. Luckily, my brother arranged for food and drinks to be brought to our room – I’m sure I couldn’t walk, I didn’t even bother to try.

“Geralt?” I mumble as we lie in bed, watching the sunset.

“Hm?” he hums, wanting me to continue.

“I’ll follow you, wherever you go,” I whisper, “You do know that, right?”

“I know. But then we have a lot of training to do.” He grins at me, teasingly.

“Oh, so you’re calling me weak?”

“No. You’re definitely not weak. You’ve proven that last night. But there’s still room for improvement.”

“Mhh. Guess you’ll have to protect me, then.” I turn to him, smiling.

“I’ll make sure I’ll do.”

He kisses me sweetly and I sigh against his lips, pulling him close.

[sillyrabbit81]

Hi dear

I'm a big fan of your writing, especially the way you write Sy. Love it. If you are still taking prompts, I have one.

How would Henry and his characters react to having an Erectile dysfunction?

I think that topic is not being discussed enough.

🖤🖤🖤

Thanks for the ask Anon. I was having trouble with this ask so I discussed it with @henryobsessed and we worked on it together. To be fair, she did most of it! If you haven’t read any of her work I suggest you visit her blog and take a look at her Masterlist . She is a great friend and has a wonderful perspective and a unique style. I love her!

@henryobsessed here I have to interject and have my say too, I loved this request, it was so much fun finding creative ways to discuss a delicate subject. And for the record I may have done more characters but @sillyrabbit81 wrote more words per character HAHAHA. You are a wonderful Friend and Cavill sister you inspire and push me to be myself and I cannot be more grateful. That being said have fun reading guys 😊

Summary: Situations in which Henry and his characters suffer erectile dysfunctions

Word Count: approx 3k

Warnings: smut, masturbation (m), oral sex (m and f receiving), anal play, p in v sex, bad medical advice, incorrect use of prescription medication, bodily fluids, period sex, drunk sex, Dom/sub relationship, descriptions of violence and death,

Masterlist

Erectile Dysfunction Headcanon

Henry Cavill

Henry had been filming for months and now he was headed home for a week’s break. You sat there waiting in the tinted people mover, as Henry was ushered to the car. Lights blinded you as the door opened, he climbed in, and smiling a weary grin, he pulled you into a big bear hug. He missed you so much.

That night, he fell into your arms in a passionate embrace. You had both craved each other, missing one another’s touch. As the night progressed, you noticed things were different. For the first forty minutes you were ecstatic, he had bought you to orgasm three times. Your body was super sensitive, but every time he seemed to be close himself, the phone would ring, indicating someone needed him. You had switched it off after an hour, having enough, and wanting his undivided attention.

Henry had managed to stay hard, but after an hour and a half, it was beginning to be painful for you, and he seemed no closer. Eventually, he flopped beside you, drained from the physical exertion.

“I don’t know what’s wrong. It’s like I’m right there, but I can’t let go.”

You brought him into your arms, and caressing his back said, “Don’t worry love. It will be ok. Just give yourself a day, and maybe we can shut your phone off. I think the stress it is causing you might be a big part of the problem.”

He huffed at the thought. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe.” He sighed and soon you heard soft snores spilling from his lips.

Walter Marshall

It had been a long day, scratch that a long month. Walter had been working day and night to catch a serial killer. That night as he came home, he couldn’t forget the latest victim. What they had found had turned his stomach. In all the years he had been on the force, nothing could have prepared him for what they found that night.

Arriving home he collapsed on the bed, he was so physically exhausted, and for once sleep immediately consumed him. He woke nearly twelve hours later to the smell of bacon, eggs, and coffee. He groaned; he had forgotten it was his two-year anniversary with you. Walking into the bathroom he washed his face, staring at the blood shot eyes reflected back at him.

“Come on man, get it together. You promised her,” Walter tried to fire himself up. It was no use, he was spent. Sighing, he walked into the kitchen wrapped his arms around you and breathed in the soft floral scent in your hair. For the first time in days, he felt a spark within himself, and although the horrific images still played on his mind, he felt a slight peace. He kissed your head, relieved, something could still reach him, something was still good. “Happy anniversary, love,” he growled.

After a wonderful breakfast, Walter sat on the couch with you and the two of you cuddled while watching a movie. His eyes kept sliding shut, his exhaustion made worse by his full belly. His fatigue became even more apparent when after reaching your hand beneath the blanket, you could not bring his flaccid muscle to attention.

Normally this situation would turn heated quickly, you had a way with your tongue that often had him begging for more. But Walter couldn’t get rid of the images in his mind, the battered and dismembered bodies, and the fact they were no closer to catching the killer weighed most heavily on his thoughts.

After half an hour of you trying to arouse him, Walter said in a resigned voice, “Sorry love, I don’t think I can.” With eyes that spoke of immense pain he looked at you and asked, “Could we please just cuddle? I think I need that more than anything right now.” In that moment he knew you were the one for him. He had expected huffing or crying because you thought you weren’t good enough or you asking him to please you. Instead, you had adjusted your position, so he was tucked into your body, holding him close while your hand stroked his curls.

A calm filled his soul as you whispered, “I am here for whatever you need my love. Rest now.”

Captain Syverson

You were just about to turn the light off and go to sleep when you heard the front door open with a crash and heard a rough curse. You grin, Sy was home and wasn’t sober. You knew what that meant, rough, wild, primal fucking. You quickly turn the light off and hide under the covers, well acquainted with the game, you knew how to play your part.

“Where are ya, woman?” Sy’s voice boomed at your bedroom door. “Don’t think you can hide from me. I’m hungry!”

You peek out from under the blanket, Sy had turned the light on again and was quickly undressing. You lick your lips, watching your big furry ox as he dropped his jeans, and his cock was revealed already on its way to being hard. Turning suddenly, he saw you, and you yelped covering your face again. “I see you woman, don’t play shy!” You giggle nervously, excited, your core already dampening with arousal.

Sy pulls the covers back and smirks as he sees you’re already naked waiting for him, “You’re a cheeky little thing ain’tcha?” You bite your lip, opening your legs slightly, inviting him in. Grabbing your ankles, he pulls you down the bed and gets on his knees. A low growl emanates from his throat before he dives between your legs feasting on you with an eagerness that brings you swiftly to your peak.

Licking at his lips and sucking on his glistening whiskers, he stands up pumping his cock getting it ready. Your brows pull together, puzzled, he’s always hard when he eats you out. You don’t have time to dwell on it because he’s soon ready. Sy flips you onto your knees before he enters and begins his assault on your core.

Something is wrong though, you can feel him falling out of you. Did he cum already? Sy mumbles curses, pulling out and you turn around and see him fisting himself again as he slips his fingers inside you. In a few moments he is hard again, removing his fingers and replacing it with his cock. You sigh, relieved, as he builds his rhythm, and you hear him start to groan. But soon, it happens again, and try as he might he just can’t stay hard.

“Fuck,” Sy growls. You turn around and see the look on his face, a mix of frustration and embarrassment that melts your heart. “I think I drank too much Sugar,” he says, running his hand over his short hair. “Fuck. This hasn’t happened… Fuck!”

“Hey!” you say sharply to get his attention.

“What?” Sy replies just as sharply, but he doesn’t look at you.

“It’s fine, Baby,” you assure him. You see him jut his jaw and you reach up and cup his cheeks, making him look at you. “It’s ok. You’re just a little too drunk,” you smile and give him a soft kiss. “It happens.”

“Not to me it don’t.”

“It’s not forever,” you say. “Come on, let’s go to sleep. I’m sure it’ll be back normal in the morning.” You kiss him again and pull his head down to whisper in his ear, “maybe you could wake me up like you did last week.” You pull back and smirk raising your eyebrows.

Sy grins, still a little sheepish, but there was a hint of mischief in his eyes again, “You’re a good thing, Sugar.” He kisses your forehead and says, “I love you.”

Geralt of Rivia

Geralt had never in his life had this happen before. The bar maid who had eagerly agreed to keep his bed warm on this cold winter’s night, gaped in confusion.

How could it be? She thought, All the myths about Witcher’s said they were virile and could last most of the night. She had been consumed with the thought ever since The White Wolf had arrived in the area and was quick to accept his offer to take her to his bed. She was bitterly disappointed and pouted at Geralt. Her sweet, plump lips alone should have been enough to make his cock stand, but tonight it lay unmoving, and useless.

That blasted sorcerer, it must have been him who had cast a curse on Geralt. It could be the only explanation for his inadequate showing. Looking at the poor wench beside him, Geralt pitied her. She had been most eager to satisfy his needs tonight, giving a valiant effort to arouse him. No matter, he had other ways to enjoy bringing her to the height of pleasure. Granted he didn’t normally concern himself with their needs as his own normally coincided with theirs. But tonight, his fingers, and tongue would be adequate until he broke the curse and returned to give her what she truly deserved.

Mike

The party had been epic, the drinks flowed, pot was smoked in abundance and Mike had managed to capture the attentions of a wonderful long legged blonde beauty. She helped him back to her apartment and his heart rate raised as she slowly stripped him, leaving him in all his naked glory. Laying on the bed he watched as she did a strip tease for him, her perky breasts bouncing as she jiggled her ample peach in his face.

But something was wrong, the situation was right, she was right but… he held his hand out to the two or was it three beauties before him. One took his hand as he guided her to sit in his lap. He caressed her as they kissed, his tongue violating her mouth with as much enthusiasm as his inebriated self could manage. Even with her grinding against him nothing happened.

“Shit” he swore.

The girl frowned and her lips seemed to move in twisted patterns which stilled again before she snickered. An evil cackle reverberated in her throat and her face twisted into that of a demented creature. “Can’t get it up, boy?” she taunted as she continued to laugh. She collected his clothes and managed to push him out of her bedroom and into the night. Standing in the cold with only his briefs covering his body, he stumbled as he began his walk of shame home.

August Walker

August Walker was hands down, far and away, the greatest lover you have ever had. He was the only man who had ever been able to keep up with you, your average session lasting for four hours. He was able to cum and get hard again faster than any guy you had ever been with too.

But being with August meant following The Rules. There were many Rules, rules which governed how you would dress when you saw him, how you were groomed, how you were to address him and when you could contact him. There were punishments too, but you had been a good girl, never broken any of his rules, so you never gave the punishments a thought.

One of the many Rules was absolutely no snooping. He said it was for your protection as much for his privacy. You didn’t know exactly how August made his money, but you assumed it had to be from some sort of illegal activity. So, you obeyed this rule as you did the others until one evening after a marathon session, you realised you got your period. You were shocked August hadn’t said anything, clearly he had continued to fuck you while you were bleeding. You started opening his bathroom cupboards searching for a tampon or pad or something, hoping you wouldn’t have to stuff your panties with toilet paper until you got home.

You opened the cupboard behind the mirror and were surprised to see a pill bottle with little blue tablets. You recognised them and after checking the label and confirming it you were speechless. August used Viagra? But, it didn’t seem possible that he would need it, his stamina was out of this world… unless…

“What do you think you are doing Petal?” August said from the doorway, a box of tampons and a towel was in his hands.

Quickly recovering your senses, you grabbed the box and towel out of his hands and kissed his cheek saying, “Looking for those. Thank you, August.”

Quicker than you thought possible you were bent over the counter, cheek pushed into the stone benchtop. “You found my pills,” August said coldly. Leaning his body over yours, his weight pushed down on you, holding you in place as he kicked your legs apart. You muffled a cry as you felt him hard again against your ass. “I don’t need them, for most women, Petal. But for particularly slutty, insatiable, cock hungry brats such as yourself, it’s a necessary assistance.”

“I didn’t mean to pry,” you murmured, hoping he would take pity on you. Tears welled in your eyes as his finger pressed against your ass, forcing your tight muscles apart and you cried as he entered you. “I’m sorry, August.”

“My dear sweet, Pet,” August grunted as he violated you with a second finger. “If you aren’t sorry now, you will be.”

Napoleon Solo

Napoleon had been watching the siren from a distance all night. Her lithe body commanded all around to her attention. After she finished singing her call to the night goddess, he made his move. Two drinks in hand he set his sights and went in for the kill.

The two danced, drank and now were in her apartment, laid out on her bed he was happily pleasing her, mouth buried between her delicious thighs. His tongue flicked expertly over her button bringing her to climax, exciting his body, he climbed forward and for the first time that night claimed her lips. They kissed passionately until something changed, his mind grew foggy, and his cock deflated.

“Aww, is the great Casanova having trouble?” she laughed her sweet siren song changing to a bitter retort. His confused eyes tried to fix on hers as she began to distort, her last words filling his gut with fear. “Don’t worry love. I’ll take good care of you Napoleon Solo.”

Clark Kent

Clark was in college and his new friend Tommy was egging him on to take Crystal out for a date. He couldn’t understand why the cheerleader wanted to take him out. He wasn’t anything special as far as she knew, but she had been flirting with him all week.

Dinner was nice and Clark was surprised when Crystal suggested they return to her share house for dessert. Nervous as he was around her, he was pleased when after ice cream he had allowed her to talk him into a make out session in her room. They had only been in the room a few moments when he had felt strange. They had been kissing, it was enjoyable, but his stomach had begun to feel off and he felt unusually tired and weak.

The more they kissed the more frustrated he was to realise he wasn’t getting a rise out of his little friend. He noticed a pendant hanging on the wall near her bed, the green stone glowed eerily at him giving him a bad vibe. After a few more moments he politely excused himself, saying he must have eaten something off. Clarke murmured apologies and gave promises that he would call her and he left. Strangely, by the time he left her house he felt better, as if he had never felt ill at all. He was only a little upset that he had ruined his chances with Crystal, something about that pendant made him hope he would never see it again.

Charles Brandon

Charles sat in the apothecary rooms, wondering what he had gotten himself in for. The King had recommended him when Charles confided in his friend of his problem.

“So young man, why are you here?” the old man asked, his face kind but stern.

“Well, I’ve been having trouble, when I pee it burns and well, I can get an erection, but it deflates quickly and sometimes I cannot get one at all. I’m also having abdominal pain.”

The old man chuckled. After examining the affected area, he turned to his wall of potions. Pulling together some salves, and powdered herbs he turned to address the Charles. “Here, rub this on the affected area twice a day, and drink this tea three times a day.” The apothecary paused and said with a grin, “And finally, give the ladies from court a rest for a bit, you will regain your vigour again.”

Shame and chagrin filled Charles as he pulled his coverings back over his privates. Taking the medicines, he snuck out of the room trusting that no one saw him, and hoping against all hope, that this would work.

Sherlock Holmes

Sherlock sits back in satisfaction, marvelling at his new invention. Based on some literature he read from the America’s he perfected the design and made it fit himself perfectly.

Having commissioned the glass tube and rubber attachments, the contraption worked by winding a small handle, creating the necessary suction to create a vacuum, pooling enough blood into his cock to make it erect. By placing a rubber ring at the base of his shaft, he found he was able to maintain an erection for approximately thirty minutes. He could even bring himself to orgasm by his own hand.

It really was a delightful invention. Now, he just had to find that little vixen of a maid and see if it worked with her too. Perhaps he should try and use her mouth first.

Tag List 1

@henryobsessed @omgkatinka @legendarywizarddetective @posiemax @nostalgicb-txh @moonlacebeam @anitababi @agniavateira @blakerogue @shadesofarrogance @mansaaay @stxlemate @wheretheriversrunintothesea @amberangel112 @madbaddic7ed @eldarwen333 @wolvesandhoundshowltogether @summersong69 @littlefreya @littlebirdofrivia @luclittlepond @myloveforhenrycavill @mary-ann84 @tellingyouastory @beck07990 @zealoushound @sofiebstar @sweetlybigdragonn @bloodyinspiredfuck @marantha @diegos-butt @greensleeves888 @endofalldays01 @justaboringadult @ysmmsy @offroadinjandals @littlewrenofrivia @pussyverson @foxyjwls007 @kebabgirl67

[knifewieldingenby]

Pairing: Geraskier

Summary: Jaskier is trying to work through a difficult part of a new song when Geralt demands his attention in the brattiest way possible. Jaskier makes him cockwarm him until he’s finished with the song.

cw: vampire Jaskier, cockwarming, blood drinking, coming from vamp bites, anal fingering, anal sex, Geralt bottom rights, dom/sub elements

-

Jaskier hadn’t fed in a few days. It was no big deal; he could go at least a week before it started to bother him, but Geralt didn’t like him to go more than three days within something. He’d offered, of course he had, and Jaskier had turned him down as he frequently did. He didn’t like feeding from Geralt unless it was absolutely necessary, or, on some occasions, when they wanted to play around with his vampire anatomy. Regardless, he’s fairly content in his current state. Without feeding he can’t really engage too much in sexual activity but they’ve both been far too busy and tired to think about sex. Or so he thought.

“Are you done yet?” Geralt grumbled for the third time since they’d got back to their room. Jaskier was trying to work out a particularly tricky section of his newest tale, an ode to his magnificent white wolf who defeated a dangerous succubus with his ‘mighty sword’ if you will, but the rhyming was coming off far too childish and amateur for the bawdy nature of the song. He dusted the end of his quill against his face, looking to Geralt now with frustration.

“Must you continue to badger me so? In case you’ve forgotten, these songs bring in just as much coin as your witchering. I don’t bother you to hurry up on your hunts!”

“Yes you do,” Geralt smirked. It quickly disappeared as he sighed something deep and much more dramatic than he would ever admit to. “Can’t you just put it on a shelf for the night?”

“Not until I get this one section right.”

Geralt groaned and flopped onto the bed. And then he did something that took Jaskier completely by surprise - he started singing. It was less so singing as it was musical grumbling as he stumbled through the words of- oh fuck no, how dare he!

Jaskier set his quill down. “I know you’re not singing a song by Valdo fucking Marx, Geralt.”

His lover grinned and kept singing, louder this time. His baritone would have been lovely if it wasn’t poisoned by such a vile song, a song to which Geralt apparently knew every damn word. Jaskier tried to ignore him, he really did, going back to his work. He was set on ‘mighty silver’ but what the fuck would he rhyme that with? He couldn’t ignore his growing irritation with his lover, though, not when said lover had finished the song and looped right back around to the beginning.

“Geralt, I swear to fuck,” Jaskier snapped, fixing him with a glare. “Why are you acting like such a-“

“Such a what?” Geralt challenged.

And oh, but he was, and it was entirely intentional. Geralt was acting like a brat. Jaskier smiled slowly and finally, blissfully, Geralt stopped, head tilted sideways with curiosity.

“Is this how you’re going to behave, dearest?” Jaskier purred. He watched with delight as Geralt visibly swallowed and eyed him with equal parts caution and hope. Jaskier pushed his chair out, angling it slightly toward Geralt. He could still just barely reach his parchment. He snapped his fingers, causing Geralt to suck in a sharp breath. “Come. Now.”

Geralt was pushing off the bed immediately, coming to stand in front of Jaskier. Jaskier leaned back, hand resting on his thigh, and Geralt’s eyes tracked the movement. “Are you going to be good for me, or do I need to gag you?”

Geralt blinked a few times, startled by the turn of events, before he was able to speak.

“Gag me,” he said softly. Jaskier smirked, making a point to show his fangs, and pointed to the ground. Geralt went down immediately, placing his hands on Jaskier’s thighs. Jaskier made quick work of the ties on his pants and pulled his soft cock out. He loved the little flick of Geralt’s tongue over his lips at the sight of him. He placed a hand gently on the back of Geralt’s hair and guided him forward.

“Keep my cock nice and warm while I finish this verse and if you’re very good I’ll reward you, pet.”

Geralt didn’t waste a second, closing the distance to take Jaskier between his lips. He sucked in the head slowly, tongue darting out to flick at his slit. It was strange in a way; normally he’d be leaking precum but he was dry now, unable to get hard from the lack of feeding, but Geralt still moaned around him like he was the sweetest of desserts. Jaskier pet Geralt’s hair, taking one last look at the way his lover hallowed his cheeks around Jaskier’s soft cock, before he leaned over the desk and went back to work. Mighty silver wouldn’t do, as tempting as it was. He scribbled it out and moved on. Half his mind was preoccupied by the pressure around his cock, the wetness of Geralt’s mouth, the way his tongue danced along the places where he could usually feel Jaskier’s veins bulging. He sighed as Geralt pressed forward, cock just barely hitting his throat, nose pressed into the dense thatch of pubic hair, and stilled. He remained there, sucking gently, his gaze softening and tension releasing from his body.

Jaskier vaguely wondered how long Geralt had needed this, how he hadn’t noticed his lover craving him until he was forced to act like a brat to get what he needed. He tangled one hand in Geralt’s hair, rocking his hips forward slightly to fill him up better, and Geralt moaned around him.

“Good boy. Almost done, you think you can hold out a few more minutes?”

Geralt nodded sluggishly. His head felt heavy and he was barely aware that they were still in their room at the inn. All he knew was the weight in his tongue, the saltiness of Jaskier’s soft cock. He felt light-headed in the best way possible.

“All done,” Jaskier said a few minutes later. He pushed himself back and took a moment to enjoy the sight before him. Geralt somehow managed to look completely fucked out without having been fucked at all. His cheeks were a pretty shade of pink, yellow irises barely visible behind blown pupils, and his hips rocked slowly into nothing. His cock was straining against his pants.

Jaskier grabbed him firmly back the hair and pulled him off his cock, enjoying the little whine it produced. “Look at you, so ruined just from sucking my soft cock. Your lips look so pretty like this, swollen and pink for me. What do you want, pet?”

Geralt whimpered. His hands, resting so nicely on his thighs, twitched toward his straining cock. Still, he didn’t speak, too lost in his own headspace to form words. Jaskier took pity on him, nudging his cock gently with his foot.

“Do you want me to touch you, love?” Geralt nodded quickly. Jaskier stroked a hand down his cheek, reveling in the way Geralt leaned into the touch, before he slid his hand back into his hair and tugged to urge him to stand. Geralt went quickly.

“Get naked and lay on the bed for me, dearest. I’ll be right there.” He turned his back, half searching for the vial of oil he kept in his pack at all times and half listening to the sound of Geralt disrobing and climbing onto the bed. When he turned he sucked in a breath. His eyes roamed over the sight before him, his beautiful Witcher laid out bare against the pillows, cock hard and leaking against his stomach. He made his way to the bed, shucking his pants and undershirt as he went, and crawled over Geralt’s body until they were pressed together, skin hot to the touch.

“You were a naughty boy tonight,” Jaskier whispered as he leaned down to press his lips to Geralt’s jaw. He moved slowly, savoring the shiver that ran down Geralt’s body, the way his blood pulsed under his lips. “Do you think you’ve earned this, dear Witcher?” He licked over Geralt’s pulse point slowly, teasingly.

Geralt whined high in his throat and nodded again.

“That won’t do, love. I know your head is fuzzy right now but I need to hear you say it. Have you been good enough?”

“Y-Yes.”

“Mmm. Do you want me to bite you?”

“Please.”

Taking a brief step away from his lover’s desires, turning his attention to his own for just a second, Jaskier was surprised to find that he was shaking with the effort to hold himself back. He wanted so badly to taste Geralt’s blood, get hard and rut their cocks together until they came all over each other. He dragged his fangs over Geralt’s pulse point, filing every little whimper away for a rainy day, and bit.

Geralt’s body seized up instantly, crying out as he came between their bodies. Jaskier took it nice and slow as always, relishing the flow of blood passed his lips, drinking him in physically and well as sexually. His cock wasted no time filling out and sliding through the mess Geralt had made. He didn’t feed long, didn’t need to, and as he pulled away he licked at the wound to seal it with his venom. He pushed up on his elbows to get a good look at Geralt’s face. His eyes were closed tight, mouth gaping as he took in deep breaths. His cock was still hard between them.

Jaskier worked his way down Geralt’s body, playing with his sensitive nipples as he moved his face lower to lick at his spend. His cum tasted almost as good as his blood, and Jaskier moaned at each pass of his tongue. Only when Geralt was completely cleaned up did he move lower, hovering over his cock. He let his lips drag over the hard member once, twice, before he took the head in his mouth, bitter sweetness on his tongue. He quickly slicked up two fingers and brought them to Geralt’s cheeks, spreading him to brush them against his hole. Geralt shook at the sensation and tried to press down against his fingers. Nibbling ever so gently at the head of his cock, Jaskier smeared the oil around that tight ring of muscles and sank one finger in. Geralt moaned so pretty around the digit, hips rocking between the sensation on his cock and in his ass.

“M-more, please,” Geralt said, digging his fingers into the sheets. Jaskier slipped a second finger in and pumped them slowly, working his lover open. Geralt spread his legs and grabbed for Jaskier’s head, trying to get him to move on his cock. Instead Jaskier pulled off completely.

“Uh-uh, I still haven’t forgiven you for being bad earlier. Be good and lay still and I’ll give you what you need in time, do you understand?”

Geralt growled with frustration but nodded. “Yes.”

“Yes what?”

“Yes Sir.” Geralt’s voice cracked as Jaskier chose that moment to curl his fingers, brushing against his sweet spot. He settled his hands on the bed, gripping the sheets as Jaskier picked up his pace. He didn’t touch his cock this time, and Geralt tried to resist the urge to fuck his cock uselessly into the air. He threw his head back and moaned loudly as a third finger joined the others, slick and full. He looked perfect like this, hole stretched beautifully on three fingers like he was made to be filled. Jaskier fucked him slowly at first, only picking up when Geralt started to let out a soft litany of “ah’s” as his body rocked into the touch. Jaskier curled his fingers, stroking over that spot again and again until Geralt was shaking. He pulled his fingers out, both of them groaning at the loss, and slicked himself up quickly. He wasted no time lining up his cock, pressing the head against him teasingly.

“You’re going to be good for me, aren’t you?”

“Yes, yes please Jaskier, I can’t - fuck!”

Jaskier sank all the way to the base in one motion, knowing Geralt could take him easily. He stilled for just a moment, until Geralt relaxed into the bed again, before he laid his body across Geralt’s, lips to his ear. He licked the shell of his ear as he started to move, hips pressing in and pulling out in a steady rhythm. Geralt wrapped his legs around Jaskier’s waist, and the change in angles had his cockhead pressing right against his prostate with each thrust. He cried out, digging his nails into Jaskier’s back just shy of breaking the skin, and Jaskier wished he would be able to see those marks tomorrow, wished they wouldn’t heal up overnight as they always did. He wanted nothing more than to mark and be marked by his lover.

Jaskier picked up his speed, spreading Geralt’s legs wider as he fucked into him hard, each thrust pulling a deep moan from Geralt’s lips. His cock was trapped between them, untouched, and Jaskier had no intention of paying attention to it. No, Geralt had been bad and he was going to come on Jaskier’s cock alone or not at all. He’d already gotten a freeby with the bite, it couldn’t be helped, but Jaskier could and would leave him begging. At least for a little while. At the end of the day he couldn’t deny Geralt his pleasure.

“Jask, I- oh fuck, I can’t -“

“Gonna come for me, pet? Come all over me just from a fat cock in your ass?”

Geralt practically screamed as Jaskier slammed into his sweet spot at a punishing pace, determined to make his lover spill between them. He didn’t have to wait long. A few more thrusts and Geralt’s body tensed, nails finally just barely breaking skin, and howled as he came. Jaskier moaned into his neck, tempted to bite again but not wanting to overstimulate Geralt with another orgasm so close to the last. His hips faltered, little whines leaving his lips, until he finally pushed in and froze, body shaking as he came. Spurt after spurt of his seed filled Geralt, who moaned weakly at the feeling, until Jaskier flopped over. His cock softened quickly and he moved, slipping out. He leaned back just to watch his seed drip from Geralt’s hole before he moved to grab a washcloth and clean them both up.

When he was finished he cuddled up next to Geralt, petting his hair and pressing soft kisses to his jaw, his cheeks, his lips, wherever he could reach.

“Fuck, that was…” Geralt trailed off, voice heavy and satisfied.

“Fucking amazing? Damn right it was. Next time just ask instead of acting like a brat, kay?”

Geralt smirked lazily. “Don’t act like you don’t love it.”

He couldn’t argue with that

[bi-aragorn]

Fuck Me Full

My first fic for @thepassifloradiscord’s smut battle! Had so much fun with this event, and there’s some really great fics in the Ao3 collection

For the prompt Witchers have knots

Rating: Explicit

Tags: Knotting, Witchers Have Feelings, Bottom Geralt, Top Eskel, Light Dom/sub, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex

Pairing: Geskel

Here on Ao3

Geskel knotting below the cut

Outside the wind was howling, rain pouring and trees rustling in the gale, but at least inside the inn, there was a fire going, and it was warm. They always chose this place to meet outside of the keep- two witchers being seen together was odd enough, and travelling together stranger still, so it was safer just to keep to a few meeting points throughout the year. Now, drying his hair after his bath, and shivering as a small droplet of water ran down his neck, Geralt was glad that they could do this, if nothing more. He hadn’t seen Eskel in months, walking the Path all spring by himself, or occasionally with Dandelion. But now, here they were- together again at last, and Geralt was more than a little excited.

Eskel was sprawled out across the bed, naked, his cock resting soft against his thigh. Gods, but it had been too long since Geralt had had that in him… just the thought of being allowed to get his mouth on the other witcher had Geralt’s cock twitching against his leg.

Sighing, Geralt ran the towel over the rest of his body, making sure he was dry, before flopping onto the bed next to Eskel. They had brought some food and ale up to their room, knowing that once they were inside, there would be little hope of them coming back out again until the following morning, and Geralt reached across for his tankard of ale, shuffling closer to Eskel as he did so. The other witcher was practically radiating heat, and Geralt couldn’t help the little moan that escaped him as he leant back against him.

“You happy there?” Eskel murmured, bringing up a calloused hand to rub at Geralt’s shoulders. With a contented hum, Geralt nodded, pushing needily back into Eskel’s touch. It was always so much easier to be open about his needs and wants around other witchers, other people who understood. So Geralt let himself be a little more honest, a little freer in his actions than he usually would, safe in the knowledge that Eskel would never think less of him for it. As far as sex was concerned, there was, of course, the added bonus of Eskel having a knot- all the wolf witchers did, something to do with the mutagens probably, but those were secrets that had been lost with the mages. Regardless, Geralt was not ashamed to admit that he loved it, how full he felt when it got pushed inside of him- nothing else could make him come as hard as getting fucked full on Eskel’s knot.

He set his mug aside, and rolled over, cuddling up close to Eskel’s chest. There was a brief moment of hesitation- what if something had changed since the winter? What if Eskel found him boring after all these years?- but before he could get too lost in his head, Eskel had slipped a hand gently under his chin, tipped his face up, and pressed their lips together in a soft kiss. Gasping, Geralt pushed in closer, deepening the kiss, eager for more. But Eskel kept the kiss chaste and slow for a while, savouring it, until Geralt was whining against his lips.

“Easy, pup,” Eskel chuckled, pulling back. “Can’t be that desperate already,” he leant back in, kissing Geralt again, and rolling so that he was laying on top of him. Geralt melted into the pillows, already wanting more. When he heard the clinking of a glass bottle, Geralt’s heart sped up, excited. A moment later, a warm slick hand was pressing against his hole, and Geralt pulled back from the kiss with a moan, spreading his legs as wide as he could.

“Such a sweet little slut for me,” Eskel murmured as he pushed his finger in. Geralt shuddered, and scrabbled to hold Eskel’s shoulders, clutching on to them tightly as he was slowly worked open.

Eskel took his time, pouring more oil over his fingers, tracing them around Geralt’s rim, making the other man squirm. Slowly, he pushed in a second finger, crooking it just so that he caught Geralt’s prostate each time. Beneath him, Geralt whined and writhed, trying to fuck himself on Eskel’s fingers, needing more, needing to feel full after all this time. Not that Eskel was having any of it- he moved his free hand to pin Geralt down by the hip and fixed him with a harsh stare.

“Stay still, or you get nothing,”

Geralt whimpered, nodding desperately and clutched tighter at Eskel’s shoulders, his nails biting into the skin.

“That’s better,” Eskel said, and thrust another finger in, making Geralt howl, clenching down on his fingers so as not to squirm again. “Gonna look so pretty taking my knot, pup,”

Unable to hold back a sob at the words, Geralt slammed his eyes shut, panting as Eskel’s fingers moved faster and faster inside of him. It was so hard to stay still, but he wanted to be good, but fuck, he wanted that knot in him now.

“P-please, Eskel, please,” he whined, the tips of his ears flushing red, a little ashamed of how needy he sounded. “Want it, please,”

“Bet you do, my needy pup,” Eskel said, not changing pace as he opened Geralt up for his cock. Still panting, Geralt threw his head back with a loud whine, his own cock resting hard against his stomach, leaking already. Fuck, but he wanted to touch it- not that he would without Eskel’s permission. He could wait, he could be good.

It was hard to remember that a moment later when Eskel pulled his fingers out. Geralt’s breath stuttered, coming out in a sob, chest heaving. He bit down on his bottom lip, trying desperately to control the noise he was making, hoping that nobody had heard them already. Eskel looked up, and frowned at him, slapping Geralt’s thigh.

“Let go of that lip,” Eskel snapped, and Geralt whimpered, releasing it, embarrassed to have been caught.

“S-Sorr- fuck!” He cut himself off, yelling as Eskel pushed into him in one rough thrust. “Fuck!” he cried again, as Eskel began to drive his cock into him, hips pumping into him fast- hard and rough the way he knew Geralt liked it. Geralt’s cock was slapping wetly against his stomach, and he longed to touch it, but he could wait a little longer, savour the feeling of Eskel’s cock inside him first. Instead, he whined as he felt Eskel’s balls slap against his arse, and wrapped his legs around Eskel’s waist. Every thrust had Geralt moaning, needy and desperate, his own knot beginning to swell at the base of his untouched cock.

“So tight, so good for me, my good pup,” Eskel groaned, hiking Geralt’s legs further up. The change of angle had him nailing Geralt’s prostate every time, and Geralt yelped, nails scratching down Eskel’s back as he scrambled to hold on. He felt like he could barely breathe, so turned on and so full already, but he knew the best was yet to come. Eskel’s knot was starting to swell, and Geralt couldn’t help but let out a series of needy little gasps as he felt it pushing against his rim.

The pressure was intense, and Geralt whimpered as Eskel slowly but surely fucked his knot into him. By the time it was all the way in, Geralt was groaning, thighs shaking, and his own knot was thick at the base of his cock.

“Please,” he whimpered, weakly, staring at Eskel with damp, red-rimmed eyes. Eskel shuddered, his thrusts slowed now as he rocked his hips roughly against Geralt’s arse. He was close, Geralt was sure of it.

“Please, sir, please,” Geralt begged again, and Eskel let out a deep moan, rocking into him hard, as he came inside Geralt in a hot rush.

“Go on then, pup, touch yourself,” Eskel said, a moment later, breathless, and Geralt leapt to it, wrapping one hand around his knot and the other around his length. He whined on the first stroke, the sensation of being so full almost too much. Eskel was staring down at him, cock still throbbing and releasing inside of him, and Geralt barely held on a few seconds before he was coming across his chest with a loud whine. Before he could even ask, Eskel had wrapped his hand around Geralt’s own, putting more pressure on his knot as Geralt came, and came, making a thorough mess of himself.

They lay panting for a while, Eskel forming a comfortable blanket on Geralt’s chest. It was so warm in the room, that after a few more minutes enjoying being tied together, and of Geralt running his fingers through Eskel’s hair, they fell asleep, still entangled in each other’s embrace.