#a barter

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

A Barter 7

Warnings: dub/noncon, smutty smut, I am a dark blog and I write dark things.

Summary: You are bargained to be wife to the witcher if he can slew the beast in the village.

Character: Geralt of Rivia

**note, I am not a Witcher genius or aficionado and so I may get some things wrong.

As usual, I appreciate any and all feedback and enthusiasm. Please reblog and leave a comment. Love! 😍

Your stomach presses against the rim of the tub. The water’s lukewarm, the floor is splashed with puddles, his rutting sending more over the edge. His growls remind you of a wild beat, deep and insatiable. Like the animal he mimics, he bites into the meat between your neck and shoulder. 

Hot breath dampens your skin as he pinches you meanly. He hammers into you, his hands over yours as you brace the wall of the tub. You whine and pant, spasming against him as your walls ache from his bottomless appetite.  

He snarls and snakes a hand down to your stomach. He feels himself in you and unclenches his jaw. He nuzzles your neck as his touch drifts further down. He spreads your lips and uses his middle finger to tease your clit. You babble as the speckling sensation mingles with your fullness and blooms to life. 

You cum in a quaking fit, muscles shaking, thighs trembling. You collapse against the side of the tub completely but he doesn’t stop. His finger swirls as he pumps into you, slowing only as he finds his own release. 

You hang over the edge as you gasp for air. You stare at the floor, your vision hazy in the flickering light of the single lantern. He growls again and it rumbles through. You tighten around him, whimpering at the tenderness inside. You don’t know how much more you can take. 

You could cry at the thought that this is only the first night. That he would expect this of you anon. That you swore that to him. 

He pushes himself away but stays inside of you. His damp skin peels from yours as he hooks his arm around your middle and lifts you with him. He brings his other arm under your knees to scoop you up and steps over the side of the tub. 

He takes you to the bed, still buried deep, lays you on your side. He puffs as your wet bodies glisten and bumps raise on your skin. You shiver and he groans, holding you close as he inhales the scent of your hair. His hand moves to spread over your pelvis. He bows his head to rest his forehead against your crown. 

Fatigue tugs your eyelids. You let yourself fall into the void. Those horrors roil in your mind. The fog, the crowded barn, the clop of hooves, the shady cavern and the lecherous eyes, the constant splash of water around the clap of flesh. 

Your worn body succumbs to numbness. You drift away from the wakeful torment and into the pit without end. You fall down and down and down until light breaks through and the pluck deep inside of you. 

You wake on your stomach. Under him as he rocks his hips lazily. He drones and nips at your ear. He fucks you in the soft light of dawn. You clasp onto the pillow and moan. 

Your cunt is brittle around his intrusion. You’re wet and wanting despite the agony. You lift your bottom to ease the pressure. He slides his hand under you to toy with you again. Another orgasm washes over you, shivers crashing down as eagerly as his hunger. 

He snarls as he cums. He stills and holds himself over you. He slips free and falls onto his back with a pained grunt. You stay as you are, plastered on your stomach. His breaths even out and you cautiously turn your head to see him. 

The lantern has burned itself out and only the morning hues limn his profile. You consider him closely, now that he is still, now that he is not on you. He’s a big man. Daunting even. His dark lashes are long and thick, his chin clefted and stubbled, and his cheek bones high and as chiseled as his jaw. 

He exhales and brings his hand over his softening member. He grunts again. You wince and roll onto your side. You bend your legs and whimper as your thighs meet. Somehow the emptiness is worse than being overly full. 

He reaches to you and pets your hip. His eyes open and seem to glow in the dim. His fingers swirl over your skin as his seed cools between your thighs. 

“I will go and lock the door. You will not open it. Not for any.” 

You sniff and gently rest your hand on his, “will you be gone long?” 

“Not if I can help it. I will leave food on the table.” 

“Yes, husband,” you accept. The promise of peace, of some time alone, a moment to take in all that has occured, is well-needed. 

“And another bath to be drawn before,” he states. “You will be easy.” He turns his hand over and grips yours. “And ready for my return.” 

[wuntrum]

the brushes you use for digital art dont Actually matter that much and its more about core art principles and technique or whatever. but maybe this next brush will be the one

[femin-ink]

Monday - Blonde Day

Instagram: spookykins

Follow for more: @lipsticknink

[sinensis26]

I take back what I said earlier: I would absolutely sell my craft creations, and by "sell" I mean "trade for something I equally value". Do you like my punk rock giraffe stuffie? You can have one for $81... or a bag full of coreopsis seeds. A knit fringe lumberjack hat? Thats $195... or a jar of local honey. Ill sew new clothes for all of your kid's dolls, usually $300+ in labor and material, but Id rather they draw me a really cool picture that I can hang on my fridge.

[let-the-water-hold-me]

Spookykins

[helenofblackthorns]

simon lewis is his own pov is so funny because I was rereading the scene of him summoning Raziel and the way he's like "oh I don't know how introduce myself because I'm just Some Guy who has no titles or great deeds to his name :/" DUDE YOU KILLED LILITH?????????

[an-eggs-quest]

HIIIIII :] you shooooould doodle Doey playing “shop” with the critters, they do have an entire trading post in the Safe Haven

Fun fact looking back on the trading post they have Bron and Catbee benches!

Dialogue:

Doey: Aaalright let’s see…how much for the train?

Bubba: 6 crayons!

Doey: Okaaay…the rocket?

Bubba: the BIG ball.

Doey: Yeesh.. you drive a hard bargain, don’t cha pal

[unbfacts]

In 2005, Canadian Kyle MacDonald began with a single red paperclip and, through a series of 14 trades over a year, eventually acquired a two-story farmhouse in Kipling, Saskatchewan. His initial trade was the paperclip for a fish-shaped pen, and subsequent trades included items like a hand-sculpted doorknob, a camping stove, and a recording contract.

[loktauri]

Pookie...

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

A Barter 6

Warnings: dub/noncon, smutty smut, I am a dark blog and I write dark things.

Summary: You are bargained to be wife to the witcher if he can slew the beast in the village.

Character: Geralt of Rivia

**note, I am not a Witcher genius or aficionado and so I may get some things wrong.

As usual, I appreciate any and all feedback and enthusiasm. Please reblog and leave a comment. Love! 😍

Your breath hitches and your breath drones. Your head lolls back on Geralt's shoulder as you writhe and grasp his forearm tighter. Your toes curls and your spine arches. Whatever he's doing, you can't get enough. 

It's whispered that the witchers have a touch of magic. Perhaps he has put a spell on you. His finger plucks you like a harp, drawing sweet notes from your lips. You bring your hand to your forehead, water slaking down your face in your delight. 

Your pelvis rocks into his hand. Your body moves in instinct alone, on the desperation field by his touch. This man, this stranger, this vaunted witcher tangles you in his thrall.  

You whine through your teeth and spasm as ripples roll over you. Gasping, gulping, clutching onto him you shake with ecstasy. Your eyes close as you puff out pathetic squeaks. 

His finger crawls further down. He traces along your entrance, up and down, up and down. He pushes slowly into you. As he gets deeper, your walls clench him. He forges past the resistance and sinks in to his knuckle. He pulls in and out, teasing you as your wriggle helplessly. 

He slips out and lines up a second finger. He dips into you again, stretching you around his thick digits as you whimper. You reach back to grasp his burly arm and lean into him. The calloused pad of his palm presses to your clit as he rocks his hand, growling over you as his muscles tense with his heavy breaths. 

You cum again. Your hand slips back and your fingers tangle in his waves. You tug them as you twitch and clamp your thighs against his hand. You buck through the intense release and babble as he eases you through, his hand moving with the rhythm of your body. 

You moan and lay against him, weak and wilted. He snarls and drags his hand up your pelvis. He splays his fingers wide and lifts you slowly. He feels below you and angles his member under you. You squeal and squirm but he doesn’t let up. 

“Mm, my good little wife, are you ready for me?” He grits.  

He pushes his tip again your cunt. He delves into you slowly, past the taut resistance of your inexperience and the tension of your close legs. He hooks an arm under one knee, then the other, and pulls them apart. He bends your legs high as he thrusts and sinks further in. 

“You are doing well, wife, deep breaths,” he cooes. 

You exclaim as he splits you. Your insides feel tight as your walls ache. You blow out between your lips and your head lolls down to your chest. Your lashes flutter as you look down at yourself. He’s not even halfway in and it feels as if you’ll break. 

“A little more, wife, yes?” 

He jerks his hips again, a little deeper, and you cry out again. He plants his feet and gives another thrust. You shriek at the fullness and quiver as your stomach knots and your chest racks. You can’t take all of him. There’s no way. 

He drapes your left leg over his knee, keeping your other over his arm. His hand clasps onto your hip and he pushes you down onto him. Your mouth falls open as he buries himself to his hilt. You tremble uncontrollably as your garble senselessly. 

“You take your husband well,” he rasps and shudders against you. 

You drone and shake your head, touching your stomach as it bulges. He slowly slides out of you. You sigh and bite down on your lip. He pushes in again and you squeal and squall as your nails cut into your flesh. 

“A good husband will show his wife how to serve him,” he squeezes your hips as he thrusts once more, the water sloshing around you. “And she will do as he bids. She will keep him happy.” 

He pumps up into you and you lean back, your head hanging over his shoulder as you claw at your torso. He brings his hand to your chest and fondles you as he keeps his motion steady. He drags himself out slowly to his tip, only to plunge back in quickly. Each time, his pelvis claps against you harshly. 

“Vow to me wife,” he huffs as he quickens, water splashing with his building fervor, “sweat to me you will always obey.” 

“I... I swear,” you gasp as he tweaks your nipple. 

“Swear you will be loyal.” 

“I swear,” you whine as he pounds from below, bouncing you with each unrelenting tilt. 

“And swear, wife, that you will always take me like this.” He groans and clutches your chest, groping you in a tight fist as he bucks furiously. “That you will take--” he chokes and a warmth blooms inside of you, “every,” he quakes, “last,” he puffs, “drop.” 

He holds you down as he rocks chaotically and pushes his cheek against your temple. He pants as he fills you up, slowing only as his climax cramps in his thighs. He eases back against the tub and growls. 

“Wife...” 

“I swear it,” you whisper. 

[vamprisms]

yea? well i hope your favourite working class character behaves in an absolutely middle class way in the adaptation because the writers, sorry, copyright owners don't even know hungry anymore

[femin-ink]

Instagram: spookykins

❗ Follow for more: @femin-ink

[starcurtain]

Sometimes I think about the fact that we have absolutely no information on how long Aventurine actually spent in slavery.

He fled from the Avgin massacre as a young child, and we didn't see him again until he was a grown adult. I doubt he could have survived entirely on his own at that age and Sigonia's conditions seem too harsh for people to randomly adopt orphans, especially from a rival/outcast clan...

We do know that the master we see on screen was not his only master, because he was purchased from someone else, but we have no idea how many masters he had total before his final one, how many times he could have fled and been recaptured, how many times he was bought and sold...

We do know that Aventurine appears to have been kept on Sigonia or somewhere similarly tribal for those missing years, since his first request to the IPC is for Jade to take him to her "chief," but we don't even know how long Aventurine has been out of slavery. He doesn't look massively different in age from his "trial" with Jade to how he looks in-game now, and he did not rise through the IPC ranks over time like Topaz but won his role directly through his gamble with Jade and then later proving himself on Iymanika.

Basically, all this is leading to a big question: Is it possible that the Aventurine we know is only barely out of slavery? That there may be something like five years or fewer separating him from the wastelands of Sigonia? That he learned all these new behaviors, all this new information about how to operate as a free person in the universe, in what likely amounts to 2-3 years of Jade's guidance and his own hard work?

Man, what an incredible character. Really a standout among my very favorites.

[let-the-water-hold-me]

Spookykins

[canonkiller]

something has snapped in me I feel like a hippie. I lay awake for two hours last night thinking about the feasibility of making my own dye pigment. what happened at the turn of the year bro

[of-mutts-and-men]

I need to give my poor body a break but jerking off for multiple hours a day is just so tempting 😓😓. I really need a vibe or something that can run all day no charge lol. Aka another person. Surely there’s at least one needy thing out there to make a good desk pet….