#bring your hunger

[intrepidacious]

bring your hunger

summary: There is a Witcher in your house.

pairing: geralt of rivia x succubus!reader

word count: 2k

warnings: smut (18+ only!!), light dubcon due to demon magic, penetrative sex (p in v), some biting and choking 😌 please note that my blog is rated 18+. minors dni. ageless/empty blogs will be blocked without warning.

a/n: somehow it's been over a year since i posted a full fic but one ao3 writer's curse later here we are. whole new fandom. i've also never written smut until this show rewired my brain so bon appétit (please be kind). my biggest love to @aphrogeneias and @brandycranby who both let me complain about this story for about three months, i adore you!!

masterlist | read on ao3

There is a Witcher in your house.

You smell him long before you lay your eyes on him, the stench of his magic permeating the forest, harsh and acrid. Somewhere in the woods nearby, something is burning.

For a moment, you hesitate, considering your options. A lesser creature would’ve turned on the spot and run, would’ve stolen a horse in the nearby town and gotten as far away as possible, and maybe you should be doing the same. Forsake your home and this region and try to forget them to save your neck.

But your instincts are never wrong, and right now they are drawing you closer, one cautious step in front of the other, until your door creaks open.

He’s sitting in your chair, turned to the side to have a clear view of the entrance. He is propped up against the dining table, his matted white hair sticking to his forehead. The air is heavy with the smell of blood and sweat. Whatever happened across him managed to get him good; he seems to have bandaged himself up, somehow, but the gashes in his chest look painful.

He stares at you, frown deepening on his face, but he stays very still. There is a dangerous look in his amber eyes, full of fire and fury, and for some reason, that doesn’t scare you. Not at all.

Gods, you’re hungry.

There’s a steady pulse of power coming from him, muted but incessant, like his body’s not ready to drop the fight quite yet. He doesn’t, however, reach for the weapons he’s carelessly dropped on your good carpet.

So instead of fleeing, you draw the door shut behind you and you tilt your head.

It’s stronger now, the smell of your own powers. You don’t think it holds as much sway over Witchers as it would do over mere mortals, but it’s still enough for him to white-knuckle the edge of the table.

"I know what you are," he grits.

The low timbre of his voice makes you grin.

"That makes us even, then." You get closer to him, gingerly stepping over his swords. "Are you going to do something about it?"

His nostrils flare a little, but apart from that his face stays unreadable. Only his eyes betray him, still trained on your lips. He can’t help himself.

"I don’t kill your kind," he says.

"How generous of you." You come to a halt between his legs, reaching out to tilt his chin towards you.

He lets you, and there’s the slightest hint of amusement hidden at the corner of his mouth. From up close, the fire in his eyes burns even brighter.

"Let me show my appreciation," you say lowly.

His scent changes ever so slightly with the first small spike of his arousal. It sends a thrill of anticipation through you.

Your fingers trail down his throat, along his broad shoulders, down the taut muscles of his back, leaning into him even more. His hands fall to your hips, almost involuntarily. Slowly, unhurriedly, you let your nose brush against his and he inhales with a shudder.

This is always your favourite part. The final moments before they give into their desire, your meal prepared and served up on a silver platter, ready to indulge in.

"Don’t," he says, barely a warning.

"Don’t what?" You can feel his breath against your smile.

"Don’t tease."

"No?" He’s got remarkable restraint, this Witcher; but you can hear his racing heart. "Alright then."

And between one moment and the next, you let your clothes disappear.

It’s a simple trick, one that everyone of your kind can do as easily as blinking, but it’s never failed you. His eyes turn even darker as he realizes what you’ve done, as you move back a little to let him take you in. You lick your lips as another waft of his arousal reaches your nose.

Delicious.

"Is that better?" you whisper, tipping your head to the side.

He doesn’t reply. He pulls you towards him sharply, and then his mouth crashes against yours, hard and sudden. One of his hands grabs your ass, hauling you into his lap while the other one cradles the nape of your neck.

It’s a brutal kiss, divinely ferocious. Your naked core brushes over the noticeable bulge in his pants and he groans. You move your hips back and forth, just enough friction to make his fingers curl, nails biting into your skin.

This, you think, this is just what you’ve been craving. This sense of presence, of awareness. Your heartbeats growing faster. Pulling, tasting, wanting. More.

You only break the kiss to undo his belt, and he chases after your lips, hazy, starving.

You can relate.

He is already rock hard when you pull him out of his pants, ready and leaking. He pushes into your touch, raw need taking over.

You let out an appreciative hum, positioning yourself in his lap, careful not to put too much pressure on his chest. You want him to feel good, after all, no: you need him to.

You haven’t been sated in so long.

"Witcher," you chuckle breathlessly as his arms tighten around you, caging you against his body. "Aren’t you supposed to kill wicked, evil things like me?"

He growls, sinking his teeth into your shoulder. You gasp as he drags his tongue over the bite marks immediately; like he’s savouring your taste, too.

When he looks up at you again, his eyes are like molten embers.

Your hand tangles in his hair and you yank his head back to kiss him again, swallowing the sound he makes when you sink down on him, and it’s a pity, really, because you could get your fill from that alone. It’s delectably salty and bitter.

Finally, he’s fully inside you, and he tilts his hips to allow you a better angle as you start moving.

"So good for me," you murmur.

He slaps your hand away when you try to slip it between your bodies, and then his own fingers find your clit, gently teasing at first, but quickly applying more pressure. You gasp, your walls clenching around his cock.

He lets out a breathless huff. "There, huh?"

"That’s it. Just like that."

It’s too much. Your breaths quicken as the air around you starts to hum and crackle with building energy. It’s making your head swim, each precise stroke to your clit bringing you closer to that edge you’re chasing.

His mouth still trails along your neck, nipping there. Your skin already feels sticky with sweat and magic as you’re hurled ever closer to the peak of your arousal.

Just as the tension in your core gets tight enough to snap, he stills completely. His cock is fully sheathed inside you, but he doesn’t move, his arms around you hard and unyielding, not even allowing a single roll of your hips. Something between a whine and a growl escapes your lips as your canines come down hard enough to draw blood.

The Witcher smiles at you hazily. "Do you want to come, little demon?"

You want to bite him. You want to suck out his energy until he’s nothing more than a sad, empty husk.

Your snarl only brings out a dark glint in his eyes, and his hand moves to your neck, forcing you to hold his gaze. His grip tethers you in your denied pleasure.

"Ask nicely," he says lowly, brushing his lips against yours.

Wicked, evil man.

Underneath your skin, your powers are brimming with unease, not yet refilled, not yet repleted; he knows this. You know he knows, and yet you’re unwilling to give in. "Or what?"

His grin widens just a fracture as his chin juts out in unmatched arrogance. You could burn it off his face. You could dig your claws into the gashes in his chest and widen them even more, feast on his blood instead.

"I know you need it," he says. His cock twitches inside you. "Beg."

A shiver goes down your spine, hot and cold at the same time.

You don’t beg. Ever. You don’t yield control, not even for your meal, especially not to someone like him. But then he expertly applies pressure to your throat and your eyes roll back in your head, all thoughts lost to the thick haze of your desire.

"Please," you whimper, clenching around him again. "Please fuck me."

He groans, hips stuttering into yours involuntarily before he moves in earnest, keeping his hand on your throat. It’s almost agonisingly slow at first, one roll of his hips almost letting him slip out of your cunt completely before he pushes back in with one single, firm stroke.

Your startled cry of pleasure gets stifled by his mouth, coaxing, biting, until your claws dig into the thick muscles on his shoulders. The arm around your back guides your movement, pressing you even closer to his body than before as he picks up the pace of his thrusts, each one hitting that perfect spot inside you over and over.

You’re so close. You can already taste the precipice, black stars dancing along the edge of your vision.

Another moan rips out of you when you come apart for air, mouths open. "That’s it," he pants, watching you through half-lidded eyes, "Come for me."

His voice cracks with rapture, and it’s that more than the feeling of his own climax that sends you over the edge.

This part of your nature never gets old: As the orgasm rushes through you, the pent-up energy surrounding you snaps like lightning, funnelling into your body like an invisible current until you shudder blissfully with your appetite sustained. Your magic crackles around you, dancing on your burning skin like sparks of fire.

You hum appreciatively, your eyes still closed as you take a moment to collect yourself. This day has taken a pleasantly surprising turn, after all. It’s been too long since you’ve felt so thoroughly sated.

However, when you try to move out of his lap, the Witcher’s grip on you tightens decisively.

"Is that it?"

Your eyes fly open.

He is breathing heavily, but despite his loss of blood and the energy you’ve pulled from him, there’s not a trace of exhaustion to be found. He still has that same dangerous twinkle in his gaze. Fire and fury. Something lurches in your stomach.

"I thought your kind’s supposed to be insatiable," he says, leaning in to nuzzle at your collarbone. His medallion bumps against your breasts with a sharp vibration as his fingers trail down your side, a slow, torturously delicate touch. "You can give me one more."

It’s not a question. Still, the hands parting your legs even further are almost as gentle as they are relentless. A light press to your overstimulated clit has you keen, spasming around his cock, and he chuckles lowly.

"Eyes on me."

You hadn’t even noticed they’d fallen shut again. You’re leaning heavily into him now, another wave of pleasure starting to build as the smell of his magic envelopes you.

He growls, moving both of you around so you’re spread open on your dining table, him leaning over you with a look that wants to devour you whole. Like you’re the one being served up for him to make a meal out of. Impossibly, he’s growing hard again as his deft hands coax you closer to your next release.

"Just one more."

It’s such an obvious lie, but you can’t bring yourself to care. You’re brimming with energy, dizzyingly replenished and yet still ravenous. The air is humming with it, the promise of more.

"Don’t lie to me, Witcher," you still gasp.

His smile is positively sinful. "You said it yourself. I’m just so generous."

You’re so full. Out of the corner of your eye, you can see his aura flickering with lust, rich and decadent and beautiful.

"In other words," he continues, his lips brushing your ear right as you reach your peak again. "We are just getting started."

this fic was brought to you by horny hyperfixations. reblogs and comments are what keep your local writers sustained!! if you want to see more of my writing, check out my masterlist or follow @intrepidacious-fics to get notified whenever i post 💛

[arithmonym]

BRING YOUR HUNGER

On Pyrrha’s half-flipped moon, Gideon makes soup she can’t eat and calls it penance.

[batcavescolony]

Katniss is such an unreliable narrator. She says "Then something unexpected happens. At least, I don't expect it because I don't think of District 12 as a place that cares about me" girl you deliver strawberries to the Mayor, you hunt and trade for the district, when you fell at Prim being chosen someone caught you, when you went to Prim people parted for you, when you volunteered EVERYONE stopped. Idk how to tell you but I think you're a pillar of the community.

[districtscare]

ok re: weird race stuff in thg i literally was just thinking about your post and how every single black boy is described as a threat. anyways. i am dropping in to ask about any thoughts you have on chaff and seeder and how they're treated in the narrative - i've been thinking about seeder's connection with katniss and chaff's with haymitch and how it made wayy more sense for them to be allied with katniss and peeta. idk. felt like another way for them to be more Tragic Deaths. but i also don't know if i'm making a mountain out of a mole hill

hey, hi! you're totally not making a mountain out of a molehill and i do actually have some thoughts.

i feel very strongly about chaff and his part of the narrative (if that wasn't already apparent) and how i absolutely loathe his introduction. kissing katniss as a joke looked very predatory at first to me, and it was weird that suzanne collins would pose one of her black characters in such an unfavorable light as SOON as he's introduced. then you've got the comments about “he could never stay out of a fight,” and then that poses him as predatory AND aggressive. those negative traits will overide the positive in a read where he's been mentioned.

his redeeming qualities is looking over katniss and peeta, (and bonding with him specifically,) alongside playing a huge role in haymitch's life, as a best friend/drinking partner, which even reads as queer-coding, considering that the first person that we see is important to haymitch, is a man. and yes, men have best friends! not denying that! but it's the nature of descriptions in their relationships, and even peeta's adamance to mention chaff every so often. chaff ALSO lasted a long time in the arena, being smart enough to likely figure out the tree + water trick without a spile.

with seeder, she seems almost forgettable. a seam-resembling woman who reassures katniss about rue and thresh's family, and holds a sense of comfort and wisdom as an older woman. and yet, first chance, she's one of the first people to go. we don't get her story, or any important details otherwise, and it really stunts getting to know the (introduced) victors of 11. it simply seems as if they weren't important enough in comparison to other victors, when they were in on the rebel plan in the exact same way.

and on the subject of reaper, chaff and thresh, it is so repetitive to have all 3 of your main black characters be brutal, fighty, aggressive. reaper killed a peacekeeper. thresh killed clove brutally. chaff, we don't know. but if he's a fighter, then i assume his actions aren't any better. it's okay to make your black characters good people. you don't have to weave in microagressive stereotypes to display racism, especially when it isn't your place. each of these characters do so much good, yes! but by collins constantly giving them that fatal flaw of violence and aggression, which is ALREADY a trait that condemns black people in the modern day, true or not true of any character, she undoes that. she harms the community she's attempting to represent in her work.

i could also mention how the torture system in district 11 eludes to lynching, and how strange it is to beat people for eating crops, or kill them for harmless mistakes. it is not racism representation, it is harm, because we don't have to be tied to slavery every time! a lot of our history is, but in the same vein? it's not the only thing that happened to black people, and you don't have to hint or reference it to create a successful black character/population.

very true that suzanne uses each character as a tragic death. it's literally like how every black character dies first in a horror movie. overused, and absolutely uneducated. because we have reaper & the poisoned water (and in the movie the snakes,) seeder in the bloodbath, rue and the spear and her mural/tribute grave, chaff dying right as they were leaving the arena, boggs getting his legs blasted off and dying violently. all of this is repetitive, and she gives life to these characters, just to have that discontinued. and it's unfair, it isn't representation to the full extent.

[bigkickguy]

magna medical

[chvoswxtch]

chapter 14 of the bodyguard with no context

[paintedpeeta]

Love how Katniss and Peeta are both hinted to be traditional with their love -> marriage -> baby inclinations, but they also seem very ready to go for each other all the time during the series. If I was a citizen of Panem I would also believe they had a baby in the first year of their relationship with the energy they’re giving off . Katniss seems to agree with the pregnancy comment after his announcement.

oh honey the way they would be 17 and pregnant if it weren’t for The Horrors™️

i love how we as a collective all pounced on katniss’ “it could be true” moment because… girllllll are you serious please listen to yourself 💀. she’s saying that if she wasn’t so terrified of losing her children to the games she could be pregnant by him at the time of the quarter quell (all the while questioning her feelings for him, by the way). i mean… is there another way to interpret this line?

and y’all already know my headcanon that katniss proposes by making him propose by being like “so when are you gonna ask me to marry you?”. she’s a traditional little rebel. peeta is the one more likely to go with the flow but even then, when she says so he’s like “yes ma’am”.

[msnihilist]

Sorry, but Phineas and Ferb going to college as adults is soooo fake. 1) What the fuck is college gonna teach them? 2) They're both WAY too restless to study for four years or more for ONE degree. They spent a single afternoon building to the MOON. FOUR YEARS might as well be an ETERNITY. Spending that in SCHOOL?? WASTE OF TIME.

[kisaraslover]

THEY WONT TOUCH YOU WHILE IM HERE

[callmeshakesqueer]

post-war hayffie

“Effie, you’re pretty much the only thing making me wanna get up in the morning. Before you came here? The night before you came here I spent three hours straight staring at a bottle of booze, fighting with myself not to get black-out drunk. I was on the verge of destroying myself entirely. I hoped for a sign. And you came. Please, I- I know it’s fucking hard. To be the one who lived. God fucking knows I’m an expert at that. But stay with me, sweetheart. Stay. Don’t go- Don’t go down that road because there’s no going back from some things.”

just made myself cry writing this

[poetskings]

snippet game

thank you for tagging me @static-radio-ao3 and @velanavis and sorry it's incredibly belated <3

rules: if you get tagged, reblog with roughly 100 words of a WIP. no explanation, just the snippet

The hungry ghost doesn’t think before it moves; it never really thinks any more. And then the sick becomes screaming, and then the screaming becomes gasps and the gasps become still silence. The ghost is not satisfied. It bares its teeth; it wants to bite. Except, this is its curse. Always hungry, never able to consume. The body will decay here, rotting until it’s nothing but bones piled high, and the ghost will starve. This ghost will always starve. The night is still young, and the ghost moves on, searching an abandoned city for something to feed on. It is empty; always empty. Under the cover of darkness, spirits run wild, consumed by desires that they will never be able to satisfy. There are no gods here, only hungry ghosts.

open tag bc this is so late!

[foxy-knowledgeseeker]

I am still reeling over how Ms. Suzanne Collins did THIS:

and did THIS:

and THIS:

and THIS:

and THIS:

[arithmonym]

considering cannibalism and cunnilingus as holy communion, as one does when writing griddlehark fic,

[ndostairlyrium]

“see this? there’s your name written on it.”

Super fast mini character ref for (final boss*) Mia. I was researching historical clothes for a project when I had a sudden mental image of her dressed like a contadina veneta so I needed to bring this to light

(*) this most fitting description is borrowed from @greypetrel 

[definitelynotshouting]

5 minutes till 6 am, eggshells at the ready, I’m prepared to draw our as many watchersona(s) As possible

Idea: a flock of watchers is called an eyelash

AN EYELASH...... FUCKING LOSING IT THATS SO FUNNY

technically they are called a colony, but listen, eyelash is hysterical i will absolutely be using that for future bits

[iamrizaka]

Avoxs names.

Will, - Elion. Austin, - Liron. [He often plays various musical instruments for Hermes]. Kayla, - Sfenis. [Her name comes from "Sféndamos", the Greek word for maple. The first thing Hermes noticed about her was her red hair, like a red maple].асный клен]. Lou Ellen, - Algaia. [Algae]. Lottie Cleo, - Arrow. [I think everything is clear here]. Cecil Markowitz, - Kerasia. Julia Feingold, - Jemima. [She belongs to Aphrodite, - I'm already making up a story for her]. Yes, some gods named their slaves after their attributes and symbols.

I will be glad if you share your OC-Avoxs and headcannons about the characters who are them.

THESE ARE SO GOOD WOAH. Do gods, nymphs and other deities call them that? Do the winners have to call them that??? I hope not or my heart will be BROKEN

Lou Ellen's name made me laugh, sorry