#and i feel awful that i was his responsibility unfairly for so long and im actively trying to get away from that role from him

[fandomfluffandfuck]

legit begging you to expand on sillysicklys subpiling post bc i luv luv luv it and i wanna reaad more but im a shit writer :((((((

related to this

@sillysickly get over here, you'll enjoy this, lol 😏

Aw, baby, I'm sure you're not a shit writer! You can do it!

I will happily dive back into the concept of subpiling with an excuse such as this, though 👀

In the previous installments (that are linked in the related post, seen above), I made up an AU where Steve and Bucky are both subs in a sleazy, rundown sort of small-town, but what's the fun of writing if not just randomly making new shit up constantly, so... this isn't exactly in that same 'verse, I could probably do some writerly bullshit magic to connect it, but, let's be honest, this is mostly just subpiling for the sake of subpiling.

Our boys--both of them sweet, silly subs--become aware of each other at no other place than the gym. Ironically, the reason each of them is drawn to the other is the same. Steve and Bucky both steal heated glances, quick elevator eyes up and down, using the mirrors everywhere to their advantage, maybe even delaying or speeding up their workouts to end up in the locker room at the same time, maybe even the showers, and end up assessing the situation of tight workout gear, bulging muscles, bared, flushed skin, and glistening sweat to come to the conclusion of--shit, that guy has to be a top, if not an outright dom, and I fucking need him.

And all that is not to even mention the sounds! Steve and Bucky both lift extensively and with all that weight, grunts and groans are bound to slip out from between gritted teeth, jaws are bound to get set into an unfairly sharp square, clenched, that makes it impossible not to imagine the same tension-filled, almost pained expression and the same fucking guttural sound of struggle while he's on top of him. So overwhelmed by his tightness and fucking plowing into him, putting all that gym-honed strength to good use, making his brain drip out of his ears, forgetting everything but the way it feels, teeth-rattling, orgasm-chasing, ah, ah, ah. Surrounded by the sex-thick scent of it all, musky and sweaty, purely fucking manly. They both want it bad.

Each of them--Bucky and Steve--want to get pounded through the mattress by the other. Pitty, if only these sweet, dumb muffins knew the truth...

It doesn't take them too long to find out, though. Just a few short weeks of watching, waiting, occasionally locking eyes, bumping into each other too many times for it to be pure coincidence, and, oops, somehow they end up in the sauna together, post-workout, the last of the late-night stragglers.

The reason it's even taken a few weeks for them to finally end up totally alone together is because each of them is expecting the other to take charge and make a move. But, that's not happened. Even in the sauna together, alone, sure to not be interrupted, nothing happens right away. The steam billows around them, clouding them--crowding them, and still they're so shy. Steve's blushing worse now than he does on his PR, limit-pushing days, and that pretty color drips down his body from his face all the way to his toned stomach. He's painted like an obscene sunset. And the only reason Bucky can't tell if his flush goes farther is because of the towel cinched tight at his hips. Bucky keeps squirming in his own seat, just an inappropriately short way away, spreading his legs, then drawing them back together, effectively alternating between obscenely squeezing his thighs together to put pressure on his antsy dick and spreading it to expose the way his dick is pushing against his own towel.

They can't fucking get it together.

Each of them is practically vibrating out of their skin with untapped energy, heavily charged and so ready to go, until Steve fucking snaps in response to Bucky's pushy little scoots, getting closer and closer and closer until their sweaty, slick thighs are pressed together. Their towels barely cover half of their upper legs, so they both gasp, skin to skin for the first time. It's then that Steve breaks the standstill by snaking one big hand up between them and curling his surprisingly deft fingers around Bucky's chin, turning his head toward him, and...

Leaning in.

Their lips crash together urgently and uncoordinatedly. Steve has to tilt his head to the side to stop their noses from hitting. Bucky's open-mouthed gasp makes his teeth dig into Steve's fat lower lip. Still, God, it's good. It's hot. Immediately, they're both hotter than they can take--shivering with the fever lapping at them, boiling them alive in the sauna.

Steve kisses hard. Bucky kisses back just as viciously. And the sounds of their lips moving together make it hard for them both to breathe. When Steve can't bear just kissing, lips on lips, as desperate as it is, he lets his jaw go slack and licks explicitly into Bucky's mouth, teasing his tongue against his lips until he gets with the program and eagerly, needily lets him in. Yielding like butter to a hot knife.

Jesus Christ.

Steve fucks his mouth with his tongue, so fucking hot for it that it's practically unbearable, even catching Bucky's lip with his teeth, nipping, teasing, but all that well-practiced-skill is destroyed the moment Bucky reciprocates with just the barest hint of force. Steve is weak for it. Bucky sucking on his tongue leaves him raggedly moaning, then whining when Bucky places a heavy hand on his thigh. He's sweating so badly that it's a pure, sensationally erotic glide when Bucky lets his hand explore higher.

Up, up, up he pushes and Steve melts accordingly. Bucky can fucking touch him anywhere, just so much as he keeps fucking touching him. Oh, God. He rucks up his towel but gets tangled somewhere along the way, so he isn't touching him directly anymore. Noo, Steve whines, his mouth going slack and wet, hardly kissing anymore, just letting himself be kissed, open and needy, as Bucky palms his dick through his towel.

Bucky keeps kissing him, his mouth sizzling and dirtily sliding across his face, more kissing the side of his mouth than locking on. It makes it all worse. Better. Steve feels smeared and he can't help but slouch against the sauna bench, letting the wood take his full weight--muscles and all.

As it turns out, though, just from cupping his dick, Bucky's just as weakened. So, his mouth gets sloppy, too. Hardly putting any effort into crashing together, just letting his lips gape, weakened as he hazily feels him up. Mouth to mouth, breathing each other in, panting, huge chests heaving together.

He's so big.

Bucky can't help but whine into Steve's sweaty, burning cheek, nuzzling against his body. His mouth is watering. He wants that in him. It feels so big and it's so thick in his hand, and, guh--immediately, Bucky's fighting to blink his eyes open and stare, unashamed, down at what Steve's packing between his muscular thighs.

Bucky just fucking paws at him, clumsy, until his towel is out of the way.

He's fucking stunned.

It looks heavy.

It'd fill him up so good.

Bucky whines, aching for Steve's dick, he wants to be fucked hard. But his sound hits Steve's ears like a punch to the gut, going straight to his dick, and so he's whining, too. Messy and high-pitched, a true fuck-me whine.

They're debilitated by arousal together, fucked up, staring at each other. Somehow both of them are already cock drunk, eyelids drooping, mouths red, swollen, and hanging open, their coordination shot to shit. They're just turning into a puddle, all the heat going straight to their muscles and bones, melting them down. Melting them into each other.

Somehow, Steve manages to clamber back to his senses enough to realize that someone has to be on top (someone has to do something!) and, he, he's fucking seen the size of Bucky, his chest and arms and thighs and--he's suddenly frantically scrambling to pull Bucky into his lap, he wants him on top of him, pressing him down, grinding into him, fucking him. But, Bucky's skin is slick with sweat from the workout, from the sauna, from the sexual tension snapping between them, and Steve just can't get a grip. It doesn't help that Bucky's out of his mind, squirming, and he just doesn't make it into his lap. Not really. The closest he gets--his towel, too, gets tangled up and falling away--is half in, half out. He's precariously balanced, his face smashed into his chest with his back arched as his humid pants paint condensation across Steve's skin. Smushed and tangled up like that, somehow, his legs are split, straddling one of Steve's thighs, and his dick is right there.

Oh, shit.

He's hard. He's so hard. It makes Steve crave having it shoved inside him, big and thick and he's not as long as some of the men Steve's taken but he's thicker. Steve can fucking feel the throbbing girth of it, pressed insistently against his thigh. Bucky feels it too because instantly he's squirming worse. Arching his back, spreading his thighs like a slut, and making his dick slide smoothly against his sweat-slick thigh.

Half in his lap, half falling out of it, Bucky starts humping his thigh.

It feels so good, his skin is smooth, Jesus, somewhere in the back of Bucky's mind, he's wondering if Steve gets waxed or some shit because he's so smooth and soft and the friction is friction--it's heated, desperate drag, skin on skin--but it's so effortless, too. Smooth. Slick. Silky and almost oiled. He can hardly stand it. It's so good, but, fuck, when things are good, Bucky greedily wants more and things are fucking great when he's filled one way or another. Something in his ass. Something in his mouth. It doesn't matter. He just wants something inside him. It's what he was made for. Filling.

He wants to get filled so much that as he's riding his thigh, sweat-slippery, barely holding on, his mouth opens wider on instinct, and then Bucky's mouthing and lapping at the swell of Steve's chest. Face-first in his tits, licking his skin, salty and hot like heaven on his tongue. Bucky can't think to slide down further and start laving attention to Steve's hard, pink nipples. He's just thinking about how good it feels. How good Steve feels underneath him. How good it is to rut and hump mindlessly.

Used and defiled so thoroughly--Bucky's dick hot pushed up against his thigh and his face smashed into his built chest--Steve throws his head back wantonly. He can barely hang onto the squirming desperate thing in his lap as squirming and desperate as he himself is.

Steve's hands are shaking where they rest on Bucky's feverish skin. Steve's body has gone limp despite his aching dick. His dick keeps twitching and he can feel Bucky's saliva drooling onto his skin--he knows he's staring down at it where it's pointed straight up at him,, dripping against his clenched stomach, so hard and ready to be used while Bucky struggles and whines for it. Steve knows Bucky wants to be fucked. Bucky knows Steve wants to be fucked. They both know there's not a goddamn thing to be done about it. They can't stop. They don't know how. They just don't know what the fuck to dooo! It's incredible; it's agony.

Bucky can't stop looking, he can't stop forgetting himself and shutting his eyes tight, riding the pleasure as it crashes through him. Devastating. He wants Steve's cock in his mouth, he's so thirsty, craving Steve's big hands in his hair, pushing and forcing him down to level with it, knees hitting the floor hard. But Steve isn't controlling or forcing or steering in any way. He can't manage it! Normally when he hooks up, he's the one being forced--not forcing.

They're on the same side and it doesn't work. Yet, it's beyond good. It's humiliating--how hot this is. Stuck. Trapped by their shared instinct to sit back and be used like dolls. Limp and boneless, both of them so fucked and yet so not fucked, they stay lost in pleasure exactly where they are.

Steve doesn't know what to do! He has this gorgeous boy on top of him, all hot and loose, uncoordinated and hurried and his mouth is so near his nipples and Steve wants him to touch his tits but he can't stutter the words out, so he just writhes, painstakingly indulged and denied by in the not-enough, too-tantalizing sensation of a cock thick and hot against his thigh. He wants a cock in him! He wants a mouth on his nipples, sucking and biting and telling him exactly when to cum. He wants to be controlled, demanded of, and used. He is being used but not like normal and--

Ohhh, God.

It feels so good.

He doesn't fucking care.

His head spins he doesn't know what to do but slouch, boneless, and take it. His mind is completely empty, only left with steam, about as smart as a sauna himself. He could cum like this. He, he could--

He's gonna cum like this.

Now? Now? Is he allowed?

Oh, fuck--

Now.

So, uh, subpiling, am I right? 🥴🥴

[jaskicr]

reverse au BUT canon universe geralt and jaskier are sent to an alternate universe where their roles are reversed but they remember their canon lives

ft. bamf jaskier and blushy geralt

canon universe geralt and jaskier touch a weird artefact and they’re sent to an alternate universe where jaskier is a witcher and geralt is human

(this is established relationship)

so they grow up without memories of their past (???) selves but they get vague impressions/dreams that tell them something’s not right

they regain their full memories they’re 15/16 ish

jaskier is born first. he’s sent to kaer morhen and goes through the training and the trials to become a witcher (he gets extra mutations bc i said so, im a sucker for witcher!jaskier with white hair and cat eyes ok)

he remembers his life as a bard when he’s 16, not long before he sets out on the path

and he realises that geralt isn’t with him in kaer morhen - he’s in the cohort geralt would have been, he’s friends with eskel and all that, but geralt isn’t here

and jaskier thinks that whatever happened, geralt must be dead

it hurts, as he walks around kaer morhen, knowing that geralt should be there, knowing that, in another life, geralt had walked within the same walls

but jaskier still holds out hope, returning to kaer morhen every winter and hoping that someone like geralt would show up

but geralt never does, and on his travels, jaskier asks mages and researches to find a way to reverse whatever was done, but he can’t

after maybe 2 decades, jaskier gives up and properly mourns the witcher he had known, who doesn’t exist here

once, he tries picking up the lute, but it hurts too much. it reminds him of what he’s lost, reminds him that geralt isn’t here

he puts down the lute and picks up his swords. he doesn’t touch the lute after that

something like blaviken still happens but maybe in a different way bc it’s jaskier

a few decades after jaskier is born, geralt is born into a noble family

from a young age, he’s unnervingly good at sword fighting and combat, and he enjoys it, but something draws him to music

at first geralt isn’t very good at it, but there’s an inexplicable urge within him that tells him to continue, a quiet yearning for melody and music that makes him want to be good at it

so he goes to oxenfurt, and that’s when he remembers being a witcher once, remembers the path, remembers jaskier

and he searched desperately for jaskier. he scours the campus, asking professors and students, searching the faculty and alumni

but no one has heard of jaskier

and geralt knows that there’s no way that jaskier wouldn’t have gone to oxenfurt - the only reason jaskier isn’t here, isn’t in whatever universe this is, is because he’s dead

geralt vows to live in jaskier’s memory, and he takes up the lute

he misses jaskier’s singing, misses his songs. so he learns the lute, learns to sing, so that there’s always a part of jaskier with him

when geralt graduates from oxenfurt, he sets out on the road

in a fit of nostalgia, he travels to posada, something bittersweet and wistful rising within him

unbeknownst to geralt, jaskier is heading to posada as well, tracking a contract

they unknowingly end up in the same tavern

at this point, jaskier has learnt to tune out bards. it hurts too much to remember what he’ll never have, so he doesn’t register the bard that’s playing right now

geralt is playing when he spots a dark figure in the corner, black armour and swords marking him out as a witcher

it’s all too familiar, and a tentative hope blooms in geralt’s heart

maybe -

he makes his way over, heart hammering, and says the words etched deep into his memory

‘i love the way you just.. sit in the corner and brood’

and geralt’s heart is in his throat, hoping and hoping and hoping for the right response

and jaskier hears a familiar voice saying words he had said, a lifetime ago

jaskier raises his head and sees a familiar face, a face he knows as well as his own despite the different hair and eyes and stature, and his heart stutters

it can’t be. but it is. and jaskier just knows.

geralt almost cries when unnaturally bright blue eyes with slitted pupils rise to meet his, set in a familiar face marked by a long scar and framed by silver hair

‘i’m here to drink alone’

it’s this familiar exchange, repeated but reversed, that lets them know that the other remembers, that they’re here

and for the first time since they woke up in this different world, they feel complete

they bask in the moment, drinking each other in, because they’ve found each other, and even if they’re different, even if everything is different, they’re together

geralt slides into the seat opposite jaskier, and it’s so, so familiar, but so different

‘i thought you were dead,’ geralt whispers

jaskier smiles, a small and sad thing, but he reaches over and grabs geralt’s hand. their callouses are reversed, now. jaskier’s hands are rough from the grips of his swords, and geralt’s fingers are padded from years of playing the lute

‘me too,’ jaskier confesses softly. then his smile turns slightly more playful. ‘i didn’t think you’d have red hair and green eyes. you look good.’

then geralt ducks his head and blushes under his freckles (yes he has freckles it’s hella adorable ok) and jaskier is fascinated bc he’s never seen geralt blush

(and he!! has freckles!!!)

‘this suits you,’ geralt mumbles, still blushing. he peeks out from under his lashes and jaskier sort of melts. ‘the hair and the eyes, i mean.’

and, well. jaskier had been insecure about his mutations that mark him as something other, something inhuman, but hearing geralt’s acceptance of him...

jaskier squeezes geralt’s hand, still in awe that he’s here, he’s real. they’re here, together. ‘i missed you.’

geralt beams, and jaskier‘s heart warms at how easily geralt seems to smile now. ‘i missed you too.’

the elves happen pretty much the same way apart from the fact that geralt and jaskier expecting it

and when geralt follows jaskier, neither of them object to it

they try to find out what happened to them, but all they’ve figured out is that their lives have been reversed, and no one else seems to be affected

so they travel the continent together trying to find an explanation or a cure

they try to return to the place where they found the artefact, but they only find a patch of dirt

jaskier brings geralt to kaer morhen

they ask vesemir about their situation (and geralt aches at the fact that his old mentor doesn’t know him), but he has no idea

eskel and lambert look at geralt with no recognition, and it hurts

but they take to geralt easily, and in no time, it’s almost like they’re back in their own world

they find yen earlier than they do in canon. she’s hostile at first, not knowing why they’re seeking her out, but when she hears their story she’s intrigued and promises to try and find a cure

in the meantime they try to settle into the new lives and new dynamic

they both have two lifetimes in their heads, two whole lives that are theirs, that they’ve lived

of course, they’re not the same people, shaped by new experiences as well as old

geralt is more open, more affectionate, more vocal with his thoughts and feelings. he smiles more, and he’s less gruff with others, though he still isn’t completely comfortable in social interactions

jaskier is a bit quieter, a result of his witcher upbringing. he’s still mostly open about his emotions, and being around geralt makes him smile and chatter liked he used to, but there’s a hypervigilance in him borne out of his witcher training, something lethal and deadly

they learn about each other again, finding new things to love and explore

now, geralt is the one who plays in taverns, and jaskier is the one who takes contracts

geralt still retains the skills and memories of his training as a witcher. though he lacks the enhanced strength, he can still fight, and jaskier gets some lightweight swords for him

geralt helps out on contracts sometimes, when he’s confident that he won’t get hurt. jaskier is reluctant at first, but concedes that geralt should be able to hold his own against weaker monsters

that’s when geralt realises that witcher!jaskier is a huge bamf and also very buff (buff jaskier rights!!!) and geralt really shouldn’t like it as much as he does

jaskier also looks unfairly good in armour with his swords in his hands

and now he understands why jaskier used to be obsessed about his black eyes after taking a potion, because HNNNG

with geralt by his side, jaskier doesn’t mind playing the lute again. it doesn’t hurt like it used to, with geralt by his side once more

geralt lends jaskier his lute and jaskier plucks out tentative notes on the strings, before he launches into one of his songs

jaskier’s voice is rough and untrained, lacking the oxenfurt training he used to have as a bard, but it’s pleasant and sweet, and geralt joins in, their voices twining together in a lovely duet

jaskier doesn’t join geralt when he sings in taverns, fearful of how humans would react, but on the road, they sometimes sing together, and it’s unexpectedly nice

(maybe jaskier gets a glamour at some point, and the continent discovers that the famed bard geralt occasionally gains a partner)

as a witcher, geralt had been unable to lash out at the people who’d insulted him and attacked him

but now, he’s human, and watching jaskier’s shoulders slump as humans spit vitriol at him, well, geralt gets to be feral now

he’s far more dangerous than jaskier had been as a bard. sure, bard jaskier was feral, but he lacked the skills that geralt remembers from his time as a witcher

the humans don’t stand a chance against geralt, and jaskier is the one hauling geralt out of fights now, and many taverns witness a white-haired witcher dragging his redheaded bard out as he yanks him into a fierce kiss

they’re both very soft and very gone on one another. geralt is far more tactile now and jaskier does not mind. they cuddle a lot and jaskier is the big spoon

they’re both openly affectionate, there’s a lot of soft hand holding and hair braiding and casual touches and like. they’re just soft, ok?

jaskier makes it his mission to make geralt blush as much as possible, because it’s adorable

(he also discovers how far down that blush goes, and geralt gets to witness jaskier’s witcher strength and stamina)

they make it work. jaskier gets insecure sometimes, knowing that his features are unnatural and scarred and nothing like what he’d looked like as a bard

but geralt reassures him, telling him that he’s beautiful no matter what

sometimes, geralt hates his own human frailty, how weak he is without his enhanced strength and how easily he gets hurt

but jaskier shows him everything he loves about geralt’s human body, telling him how happy he is that geralt gets to live a life without the suffering of a witcher

and the longer they’re together and the more they get to know each other all over again, they become less sure whether they want a cure or not

geralt likes being a human bard. humans don’t hate him anymore, and he likes being a bard more than he thought he would

but he knows that jaskier is, by nature, someone who loves people. and watching jaskier be rejected by prejudiced humans makes geralt’s heart hurt, because jaskier loves people so fucking much, and now he’s hated by them

but jaskier doesn’t mind being a witcher either. he can help people now, even if they’re ungrateful. there’s a deep satisfaction as he slays monsters terrorising innocents, and like this, he also gets to protect geralt

(not that geralt needs protecting, but still, it’s nice. and geralt has realised that he quite likes jaskier swooping in to save him aka picking him up in his arms)

and jaskier sees how free and easy and open this geralt is, unburdened by decades of hatred and conflict, and he wants this for geralt, wants geralt to know the happiness of a human life without being hated by the very people he helps

both of them like the lives they lead now, and they don’t know if they want to go back. but their old life is the original world, and they still wonder if they should go back

idk how it ends - either they somehow find a cure and return to canon universe with a whole load of new experiences, or they never find a cure and they learn to live in this new world

or maybe they do find a cure and decide that they’ll stay in this world because they’ve learnt to accept and love each other even with the changes, and it’s their world now

there’s a fic for this now!