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scandinavianfairytale · 11 months ago

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Wanting

Pairing: Walter Marshall x Reader

Warnings: Consumption of alcohol, consumption of drugs, discussion on drugs, friends with benefit (somehow?), cursing, sexual themes & smut (DUB-CON, grinding, police van sex, drugged out sex, mention of public sex, mention of rape, mention of revenge porn (not towards Reader), mention pornography, mention of non-consensual filming, fingering, one pussy slap, unprotected sex, hard sex - Walter is not gentle & sees it like a punishment, multiple orgasms, drooling, crying, squirting, chocking, creampie, little bit of praise)

Walter disliked being on call on Friday nights. Ever since the new drug, Houdini, started popping up everywhere the police has been running around in circles, trying to find the main supplier, but has repeatedly come up short.

Houdini was a mixture of ketamine and ecstasy. A party drug that is supposed to highten your senses and drive up your sex drive. Sounds like a perfect mix, but what the dealers left out was the memory loss, the dehydration that followed and complete lack of mobility.

It was a mess all over the damn country - the rape cases skyrocketed, revenge porn sites were having a field day because of all the public fucking taking place, the emergency rooms were stacked with people on gurneys and everyone had to deal with victims with memory loss.

Everyone was having a bad time - the victims which were pilling up by the minute, the police that was understaffed had to do even more over hours and the doctors that had to triage almost every Friday night.

Yet people were still taking that stupid drug.

Walter was pissed off, to say the least.

How are people this stupid?

He thought as he watched a group of drunk women giggling after just snorting the Houdini. His blood boiled knowing damn well that he couldn't do anything about it. The amount of people taking this drug was too high for everyone to get arrested or booked. Priorities his superiors loved preaching.

One of the women left the group to get some drinks. Her dress barely covered anything, leaving very little to the imagination. He shook his head as he watched several heads turn after the woman. She definitely got the attention she wanted.

"Walter!" He heard and looked around to see who was calling him. Out of all the damned people, you were the woman in that short dress. The one that just snorted the Houdini. Walter clenched his jaw and his grip on the beer he was drinking tightened.

How can you be so stupid?

"It's been a while." You smiled at him. He could see how drunk you already were and he also knew the drug will take effect soon, if it hasn't already.

"You should come meet my friends!" You grabbed his arm and pulled him towards you, stumbling a few steps back as his massive weight crashed into you. Walter let you drag him to your friends, also because he knew that whatever attention you had on you would dissipate once he was next to you.

"Girls, this is Walter! The friend I told you about!"

"Oooooh, the policeman." One of your friends slurred.

"Are you here to arrest us? We're just trying to have a good time." Another winked.

"Oh stop it! He's the nice policeman. He would never arrest us." You leaned into him.

It already started taking effect.

You weren't aware of it yet, but you started lightly grinding on his leg. He heard how your breath came out laboured, and he knew he had to get you out of there. Grabbing your arm, he started dragging you away from your friends.

"Walter, what the hell?! Let me go!" You yelled, trying to resist his grip.

"I can't believe you out of all your stupid friends are acting this way." He grumbled. "You know better than anyone what's going on these days."

"I was careful." You whined, stopping him in his tracks. He turned around to glare at you, making you shut your mouth.

"Careful? You don't even realize that the drug has started taking effect. You can barely stand and I'm pretty fucking sure that if I let you stagger back to that bar you'd get lost."

"Fuck you."

"Right." Walter started dragging you to the police van parked in the small street.

"Get out." He barked at the man that was inside, surveilling the cameras around the city. The man tried to object but one stern look from Walter sent him out. Water threw you in the van, climbing in behind you and closing the door.

"What is your problem?" You yelled at him, tugging your dress down when you realized you were much more exposed than you were comfortable with.

"Now you're trying to cover up?"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"You're more than happy to bare your ass to strangers but with me you get shy? What the fuck were you thinking taking the Houdini?" You never realized he was so big as just now that he was towering over you. Your pussy clenched as your eyes lingered on his cock.

"Tammy took it before and she said she had the best fuck of her life. I just wanted to see how it felt like." You bit your lip as he crouched down to you.

"You're taking advice from a drug addict. Are you stupid?"

"I didn't take the full dose." You defended yourself. "Just a taste, to see how it feels."

"And? How does it feel?"

"Antsy." You swallowed, trying to decide whether or not to tell your very angry friend what you were thinking. You shifted on the floor a bit and the cold steel flooring touched your soaked pussy, making you gasp.

"I see the Houdini is in full swing." Walter observed you.

"Can you help me, please?"

"I'm not going to be nice. You need to learn a lesson, and maybe next time, you won't go around experimenting with drugs." You nodded before Walter pulled your collar down, exposing your breasts. His hand cupped one and pinched your nipple, making you moan.

"Keep tour mouth shut." He slammed a hand over your mouth, grabbed your hips with the other, spinning you around, and pushed you into the wall of the van. He kicked your feet further apart, making you stick your ass further into him. You could feel your nipples harden at the contact with the cold steel material. His hand then traveled to the center, under your dress, before finding your clit and circling it, making your hips buck.

"You're dripping." He said into your ear before he forced two of his thick fingers into your still clothed pussy, making you moan into his hand that was still clamped over your mouth.

"Completely soaked." Walter commented. "That's the Houdini doing its magic. Imagine if I left you there, you'd be grinding up on some coked up asshole that'd fuck you right in the middle of the bar. Anyone could record you and you'd end up on some porn site, where strangers would jack-off seeing such a whore like you get publicly fucked out of her mind. Maybe a coworker of yours stumbles upon it - bye-bye that stellar career of yours." His voice was low and raspy. Somehow, that made you even more aroused. Your pussy had a mind of her own as you realized you have been incessantly humping Walters fingers.

"Mmph." Moaning, your tongue licked his fingers, making Walter tsk. You could see your release, just a few more grinds.

"You're getting hornier by the second." He chuckled and withdrew his fingers, taking away that sweet feeling, making you whine. "But I'll be nice and I'll take care of you." He rasped into your ear before he spun you around and bent you over the control table, your head laying on the keyboard. Tugging your laughably short dress up, he exposed your core to him. He slapped your pussy, making you yelp. He tsked again when his hand made contact with your drenched and sticky thongs. His fingers wrapped around the string, pulling it away before releasing it back on your skin. Throwing your gead back with a loud "God" your pussy clenched at the impact and your back arched at the sensation.

Walter chuckled as he watched your cunt throb as he started unbuckling his belt. He finally pulled down your thong and ran his leaking cock up and down your puffy pussy. Your chest heaved, and you made sounds you didn't recognize. All you wanted needed was his cock in your cunt.

"Remember that I'm not being nice." He warned before he seethed himself in you with one powerful thrust, slamming your hips into the control table. It hurt, but in the most delicious way that you have never experienced before. The pace he set was brutal, the letters of the keyboard scratched your face, adding to the mix of pain and pleasure you were feeling.

Your orgasm hit you fast and hard, your eyes rolling to the back of your head and your body spasming on his cock, but Walter just continued fucking into you. He was like a man possessed, grunting and moaning above you, his pace never faltering even after you clenched around him. He immediately pushed you into your second orgasm, making you moan out loud as juices squirted out of you.

"Fuck." Walter cursed as he felt your squirt wet his thighs. "Let's see if you can do that again."

His hand moved from your hip to your stretched pussy, circling the spot where you were joined, making you gurgle. His pace switched, his cock was slowly stretching your walls and with your drugged state you could feel almost every vein on his organ.

Mindblowing.

"Stop drooling over the keyboard." He stopped his adminitrations and grabbed a fistful of your hair to push you away from any electronics before returning his hand back.

"You're completely stretched, must be painful." He commented as he circled your full hole. You choked on your words and tried to shake your head.

"No? Good, you're taking me quite well." He praised you, making your legs shake a bit. His fingers lightly stroked around your pussy, purposefully avoiding your clit, making you whine.

"Walter...please..." You choked out.

"What is it?"

It was hard to formulate words, your body was on fire and it felt like cumming was the only thing that would put it out. But in the state that you were in, all you managed to let out was a hoarse "Cum.".

"You want to cum?" He mocked your meager attempt to communicate what you need.

"Mhm."

"So, if I touch you here," Walter tapped your clit which made your hips buck and him smirk. "then you'll cum almost immediately?" You could feel him starting to prepare himself for another round. One that you knew you were losing soon, not that there was anything to complain about.

His fingers framed your clit and his other hand grabbed at your throat. "Let's see how much you can take."

His pace again hardened, his first sharp thrust made your hips slam back into the edge of the control table, but this time he kept you firmly pinned by your neck, preventing you from slipping away. His fingers were rough on your engorged clit, but that just added another layer to your rapture.

You couldn't form a sound anymore. Your body just locked when the orgasm hit you, but then when your juices squirted out, you started convulsing. But he just kept going completely overloading you, your hand fruitlessly reached for his hand, trying to shove it away from your clit, but he wasn't bothered.

You couldn't handle another orgasm, but you had no choice but to take it. Both of you could feel how close you were to another peak again.

"That's it, come on, I know you have another one in you." His grip on your throat increased, making you release a choking sound, tears welling up in your eyes, but it also made your pussy clamp down on his cock, making you squirt again. A few thrusts more and finally Walter released himself into you. Feeling the few spurts painting your womb and his cock go slack, you finally let out a relieved sigh.

It was over.

"Good girl." Walter cooed, kissing your shoulder. He carefully let go of your throat and pulled his cock out and your body finally slumped, completely exhausted. Observing your abused and puffy pussy, his cock twitched as it refused to close. It really was a sight to see how his spend oozed out of your hole and he resisted the urge to push it back in.

He buckled up his pants and carefully pulled your thongs up, sitting you on the only chair in the van. He rummaged around to find a jacket before draping it over you, before he opened the van door again and carried you out in his arms. Your head lolled as your consciousness wavered.

Walter walked past the man who was previously thrown out of the van and the man immediately knew not to comment or bring up the situation again.

"Shhh, don't worry. I got you. Just rest now." Walter shushed you as you tried speaking. Nodding weakly, you let the darkness consume you.

Thank you for reading! 🙈

The GIF belongs to the amazing creator! 😊

#henry cavill #walter marshall #walter marshall x reader #walter marshall imagine #walter marshall smut #malter marshall x reader smut #wanting #short story #smut #fanfic

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petew21-blog · 5 months ago

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Great Shift stories, Henry and Joey

Paparazzi:"Gentlemen, smile. Look to the right. Yeah. Good"

Henry and Joey were at the front of the hall, where the press conference was about to be held, before the release of the new Witcher season. They were all instructed to suit up and arrive. Henry felt like he was betraying Joey. They were about to announce soon, that he was leaving the Witcher TV series and passing the role to Liam Hemsworth. Henry didn't want to continue playing Geralt if the story wouldn't be more faithful to the books. Unfortunately, Joey already signed his contract and therefore had to play Jaskier for another year without Henry.

They stood next to each other. Joey couldn't pretend that he was happy. He was angry, because Henry didn't tell him soon enough how he felt and that he was leaving, trapping Joey in a job he started to hate. He felt betrayed

Back then nobody knew what happened in the following moments. Maybe it was an accident. Maybe it was intentional. But all they knew was that suddenly all around them was pure chaos. The whole city confused and screaming. Most of the planet swapped bodies with someone standing close to them. Some were very unlucky, in some cases the swap was lethal or caused many people to die. But some people got really lucky. Just like Joey and Henry here

They were obviously both shocked when they found themselves in each other's bodies. But they were interrupted by the people around them screaming and shouting at each other.

Joey in Henry's body:"Henry? Is that you? I'm you!"

Henry in Joey's body:"Is this real? Is it really happening?"

Joey:"I think it is. And I don't think we're the only ones. Maybe we should go somewhere more quiet."

Joey starts walking away, but as soon as Henry moves his body a sharp pain shoots from the back of his body.

Henry:"Ah fuck. Wait. There's something wrong. It feels like..."

Joey started smiling, realising.

Henry didn't find the pain that bad anymore and was slowly figuring out, what it was.

Henry:"Joey? Is that what I think it is?"

Joey:"I don't know what you're talking about"

Henry started laughing at his old face

Henry:"Hahahaha. No you didn't. Holy shit you're naughty, Joey. You really went to a press con with a dildo up your ass? Wow. I never thought that you'd be able to do this."

Joey:"Maybe we should go?"

Henry:"Oh fuck, we are. I really need to take a proper look at that thing stuck inside of me now "

Joey went first and couldn't stop smiling, as he heard Henry struggling to walk properly

But Henry was getting more and more into it. He never had a dildo up his ass. And this one was BIG.

They got into an empty hotel room nearby.

Joey went to the bathroom first to piss and left Henry outside. Henry started throwing his clothes off to the ground. But stopped, once he felt the thing in him move. He got on his knees and felt his own ass trying to push it in and out. An overwhelming feeling caused him to moan out loud and hold ok tightly to the bed sheets.

He heard the bathroom door open

Joey:"You wanna use the bathroom?"

Henry got up and without saying a word went to the bathroom while grabbing his old body's cheeks playfully on the way.

He wanted to look at himself in the mirror, but he needed the dildo to move. He needed to find a better position. But another unwanted movement caused him to collapse into the bath still in his clothes.

He just sat there leaning on the edges of the bath, moving his ass up and down in the air. Causing the dildo to move up and down. He was now covered in sweat. His body was begging to be fucked

Joey:"You need some help with that?" He pointed at his ass

Henry needed to be fucked. And there was a thing much better than the dildo in his ass

He leaned to the front and grabbed his old semi-hard bulge looking seductively into his old eyes

Henry:"Whip it out big boy. You got a hole to patch. And I need it"

Joey:"Are you sure you..."

Henry:"Fuck me right now!!!"

Joey threw off his pants and boxers. Leaving himself in Henry's Grey shirt only

Henry:"I want you to show me how you can be better than that dildo"

Joey:"I'm not really sure about this"

Henry:"Please just fuck me already. I can't take this anymore"

Joey helped Henry to take off his clothes. He turned him around to let him hold the edge of the bath. He then grabbed the base off the dildo and started moving it up and down rythmically. Henry was moaning in pleasure. No, he was screaming

As soon as Joey got hard, he pulled out the dildo and showed his new huge dick into his old ass. Henry couldn't even tell the difference. But now it was warmer, pulsating. And Joey was pounding him.

They were now one. Combined. Sweaty. Joey was deep inside of Henry moving his intestines.

Henry:"Ah ah ah ah. Fuck me... I need you"

Joey couldn't hold it anymore, he pulled out his new dick and shoot the load at his old back.

He was breathing rapidly from the fast tempo. Henry was still holding on. But Joey moved his head to the side and noticed his old dick leaking cum

Joey smiled. Yeah, fuck the betrayal. He's gonna be punishing him for that very often from now own.

Anonymous inbox request:

What about the great shift strikes. And everyone is swapped with the closest person at the moment. A story where henry cavill gets swapped with joey batey before some press con. And henry finds that joey's body has a dildo up his ass and he's so turned up that he begs joey to fuck him.

#Great shift #greatshift #body swap story #body switch #body swap #body swapping #male body swap #male body switch #henry cavill #joey batey #witcher fanfiction #celebrity body swap

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thenighthawk · 2 years ago

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#henry cavill #the witcher #the witcher netflix #geralt of rivia #photoplayer #200x320 #the witcher s3 #nikolai #accord stories

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viking-raider · 1 year ago

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A Christmas Miracle🎄

Summary: You and Henry are celebrating Christmas with family, while expecting your first child together.

Pairing: Henry Cavill/Reader

Word Count: 5.9k

Warning: G - Cotton Candy Goodness, Soft!Henry, Fluff, Kal, Papa Bear!Henry, Domestic Bliss, Christmas Decorating, Pregnancy Stuff, Cotton Candy Fluff, Loving Marriage, Christmas Fluff

Inspiration: This story ties into my Easter story, The Golden Egg.

Author’s Note: I hope you enjoy this! Line divider by @FIREFLY-GRAPHICS!

If you would like to get notifications for my writing! Just follow my Tag List blog, @VIKING-RAIDER-TAGLISTand turn on the notifications for it! It’s that easy! @VIKING-RAIDER-LIBRARY

“Babe!” Henry gasped, as he came into the living room, nearly tossing the steaming cup of tea in his hand, upon discovering you.

You were standing on the two-step high stool, to sprinkle golden tinsel on the fragrant and robust branches of an eight foot Fraser Fir that stood proudly in the corner of the living room. You chuckled, shaking your head at your husband, but didn't look back at him, as you picked a bit of tinsel off one of the emerald branches, having adorned the needles with too much of the sparkling, thin strands.

“You shouldn't be up there, love!” He scolded you, setting the tea he had made you on the coffee table as he rounded it and the couch, to come towards you, resting his hands on your hips. “I told you, I would help you decorate the tree, once I was done with your tea.”

“I know you did, Hen.” You answered, sighing softly, finally looking down at him and seeing the wrinkle of worry between his brow. It hadn't smoothed since the Brit found out you were pregnant with his child on Easter, nearly nine months before. “But I'm also capable of doing it myself.” You reminded him, resting a hand on his shoulder and giving his neck a gentle squeeze.

“I'm pregnant, not invalid.”

Henry sighed softly, leaning forward to press a tender kiss to your round and pronounced belly. “I know you're capable, sweetheart.” He assured you, looking up at you with an affection in his blue eyes that always melted your heart. “I just don't want you to get hurt. Especially with you so close to the due date.” He said, helping you step down off the stool. “Just sit down and enjoy your tea. Then, we'll tag team the tree together.” He told you, putting an excited smile on his face.

“All right.” You conceded, settling down on the couch and took up your tea, cupping the mug between your hands and letting the heat seep into your palms, before finally taking a sip.

“Your parents will be here in a couple days.” Henry commented, squatting beside a box of Christmas decorations neither of you had opened up yet. “My parents made up their guest house in preparation for their arrival.” He told you, peeking into the box.

Halfway into your pregnancy, Henry had taken time off from acting and the two of you decided to leave your secluded London home for the coziness of Henry's home island of Jersey. Buying a nice, beach front property, three streets and a five-minute walk from his parents' place, with the intent on having your baby boy born in Saint Helier. You loved being on the little Channel Island, sitting on the back patio or taking walks on the beach, breathing in the soothing sea air, which helped your morning sickness a good deal.

The only downside was your family was far out of reach of you, having to fly into Jersey to visit and check-in on you. Your parents wanted to be on hand when you finally had their third grand-baby, so Henry footed the bill to bring them out and his parents were amazing enough to host them while they were here.

“That's great.” You smiled, flexing your sore and swollen feet, watching him pull out ornaments, garland and other little tree decorations. “I can't wait to see them again.” You commented, not having seen them since your fourth month, just before you and Henry left for Jersey. “I'm sure my mom will bring more knitted items.” You chuckled, glancing over your shoulder to the soft, butter-yellow blanket your mother had knitted a couple months ago.

“I would be shocked, if she didn't!” Henry laughed back, his broad shoulders shaking as he stood. “What garland do you want on the tree?” He asked, holding up a strand of colorful beads and another of red and white, twisted ribbons.

You hummed, pressing your lips together and studied your tree, eyes narrowing slightly, scrutinizing the colors on its branches. “I think the ribbon would work best with it.” You finally settled, nodding content with your choice.

“All right then.” He nodded back, putting the other garland aside. “Ah, nope!” He tisked, when you set your tea down and started the mini struggle of standing up. “You put the tinsel on the tree, it's my turn to put the garland on. You relax.”

“Fair enough.” You sighed softly, picking your tea back up and rested against the couch cushions, just in time for Kal to jump up beside you. “Well, hello there, sweet boy.” You cooed at him, reaching out to give him good scratches between the ears and around the neck. “Have you come to make sure I stay put?” You quipped, the Akita resting his head in your lap.

“I did no such thing!” Henry called over his shoulder, carefully tucking the garland into the branches.

“Sure, love. Sure.” You chuckled at him, though Henry's protectiveness at times could be a little overbearing, you knew he did it out of love and first-time father worries. “He's paying you in treats and promises of all the good turkey, ham and brisket bits he plans on cooking for Christmas dinner.” You accused, lifting a brow at the unphased Akita, before wincing and pressing a palm to the side of your belly.

“You all right?” Henry asked, catching a glimpse from his peripheral, pausing a moment.

“Yeah, your son just kicks like a Fly-Half.” You answered, chuckling halfheartedly. “If he keeps these strong legs, he'll for sure make the England team.” You said, trying to ease the look of suspicion on Henry's face, that it was the baby kicking, and your own, that the pain was something more than a false contraction.

“You missed a branch there, Bubs.” You commented, drawing Henry's attention away from the subjection, motioning with your steaming black, Nightmare Before Christmas cup.

“Mm.” He grunted, narrowing his eyes at you, but turned to fuss over it.

You took a deep breath, rubbing the globe of your stomach, hoping to soothe any would-be pains. Thankfully, you didn't have any more throughout the morning, helping Henry put up the ornaments and other little hanging knick knacks on the tree. Something Henry was comfortable with you doing, since you kept your feet on the hardwood, safely beside him.

“I want to do a little plaster imprint of his hand and foot, to hang up on the tree for next year.” You commented suddenly, gently holding a little needlepoint ornament you'd made. It was a silhouette of Henry and you, with Kal between you, the year above your heads. You had made one every year since the first Christmas the three of you had spent together. “Should make a new needlepoint too.” You added even softer.

Henry glanced down at you, a fond and nostalgic light in his blue orbs. “I think that would be a lovely idea, babe.” He smiled, warmed at the idea. “I like the idea of making and expanding our little traditions.”

“I should have given myself a baby bump in this one.” You joked, carefully adding the stitched ornament on a branch, accompanied with the others around it. “So much for accuracy.”

“It looks perfect, my love.” He assured you, kissing your hair. “Now, let's turn the lights on and see how this thing looks!” He proclaimed, shuffling around the tree and plugged in the two strings of lights skillfully wrapped around the tree.

You stood back to get a good look at the Fir, just as the tiny, cool and warm-white LED, diamond facet bulbs flickered on. Making many of the ornaments glitter and twinkle. It brought a great feeling of delight bubbling up inside of you, tugging on your exhausted and hormonal raged body, until tears spilled over.

“Sweetheart.” Henry cooed, pouting at you sweetly, as he closed his arms around your shoulders, hugging you as closely as your belly would allow.

“It looks beautiful.” You mumbled into his chest, fingers gripping at the sides of his shirt.

He smiled, nosing the hair at the top of your head and rubbing your back with one hand. “It is, dear, and so are you.”

“I'm also starving.” You blurted out, breaking the melancholy mood.

“Butter chicken or pepperoni and feta pizza?”

“Oh god, you know me too well at this point.” You giggled, licking your lips. “But, the butter chicken.”

You sat up in bed, Kal resting between your legs, with his head laying on your belly, as you read your latest book on your Kindle. While Henry was downstairs doing some work on the new Warhammer minis he ordered as a way to keep himself occupied, when he wasn't taking care of you.

“Oh.” You gasped, feeling a sudden, sharp pain. “Gosh, did we disagree on the butter chicken, Bean?” You groaned, pressing your palm to the side of your stomach; Kal lifting his to sniff at your belly as another pain caused you to cramp. “It's all right, Bud. Your brother is just being a little difficult.” You sighed, setting your e-reader on your nightstand and lumbered out of bed, before heading downstairs.

“Hey, love.” Henry smiled, looking up from the Ultramarine mini in his hand. “I thought you were going to bed.”

“I was trying to, but your son doesn't agree with dinner.” You explained to him, looking over his progress on his Warhammer army. “Can you do your trick?” You asked, lulling your head to the side and giving him a cute look.

Henry chuckled, setting his mini down. “My trick.” He smirked, standing up and moving behind you. “Any reason to cuddle.” He teased, reaching around to cup both hands beneath your stomach and leaned you both backwards, taking the weight of your belly as he did.

“Mmm.” You hummed, eyes falling shut, while you let your head rest against Henry's chest. “It feels so good.” You sighed, resting your hands on his.

Henry cradling your baby bump had become a god send throughout your third trimester. Taking the weight of your healthy and active baby boy off your lower back and hips. However in your earlier trimesters, the two of you learned it helped relieve your heartburn and whenever your little one got a bit too restless.

You liked to think it was the baby reacting to Henry's touch.

It was calm for a long, few moments, just you and Henry, slowly swaying side to side, the baby calm. But again, your stomach spasmed and you whimpered, making it clear to Henry, you were indeed having some sort of contractions.

“How long has this been going on?” He asked, eyes wide and brows pinched.

“Since this morning.” You confessed finally, taking slow, deep breaths.

“Why didn't you tell me?” He demanded, startled and worried.

“I didn't have any through the afternoon.” You assured him, patting his hands. “I figured it was just false. But, I'm starting to think otherwise, with how much that one hurts.”

“We should probably go to the hospital.” Henry fret, starting away from you, but you turned and caught his elbow.

“Henry.” You said in a soft, soothing voice. “You remember what the OB said?” You tried reminding him. “Four-One-One.”

“Four minutes apart, a minute long, lasting an hour.” He recited, having listened to your OB, and read numerous baby and expecting parent books.

You had taken a couple of parenting classes as well. Until people started posting photos of you on social media, annoying you and causing Henry to be even more of a papa bear. So, you'd found an online, private class to do in the comfort of your living room.

“Not one has lasted a minute, been four minutes apart or lasted an hour.” You assured him, dropping your hand to his, giving it a gentle squeeze. “If they're the real deal, I'm in the early stages and going to the hospital now will only incur hours and hours of waiting. Which we'll be doing here anyway.”

“What if something happens?”

“Nothing is going to happen, you worry-wart.” You chuckled at him, shaking your head. “Come to bed with us.” You cooed, pushing up on your toes, kissing his bearded cheek and brushing your fingers through the curls above his ear.

“You'll tell me.” Henry insisted as he followed you upstairs to the master bedroom.

“Of course, I'll tell you, Henry.” You assured him. “Then, I'll tell Kal.” You quipped, trying to lighten the mood and get him to smile.

But he didn't smile, his mind preoccupied with making sure everything was ready, should you wake him up and tell him your contractions were growing close together.

Did I get the car seat in the Audi correctly? Where did I put the hospital bag? In this closet or the coat closet downstairs? Everything's in it she and the baby needs, right?

“Babe.”

Perhaps I should just go down and get it, to make sure. What about the nursery? Thank God, I finished the crib last month!

“Hen..”

Do we need more diapers? Are they the right size? What if--

“Henry!” You called out, when he didn't answer you, a far off and growing alarm look in his cerulean eyes, startling him out of his worried trance. “Everything is all right.” You said slowly, holding his gaze steadily. “We have everything we need. Everything the baby needs. If we don't, that's perfectly fine. Your parents and mine have offered their help, should it arise. As have your brothers.”

“I don't know how you're so calm.” He sighed, shaking his head and dropping down on his side of the bed.

You laughed, smirking. “I'm not calm. But there's no use for us both freaking out, especially at the same time. Besides, when I freak out, I have you to pull me back together, the least I can do is return the favor, when you start to lose it.” You told him, maneuvering yourself back under the covers.

“What's a spouse for?”

“You're right.” Henry nodded, turning the light out and resting against the headboard beside you. “One of the many reasons I love you, and married you.” He said, taking your hand and bringing it to his lips, kissing your knuckles.

Snuggling down, your back pressed against Henry's chest with his hand ever present on your belly, you tried to focus on falling asleep.

“You know.” Henry commented, half-asleep himself. “I sort of miss when you were in your first and second trimesters.”

“Oh?” You mumbled back, with interest.

“Yeah, you were always jumping my bones.” He laughed, shaking the bed with his mirth. “Well, until the end of your second trimester, when your belly got too big to do anything other than waddle and ride my cock.”

You were instantly awake again at his words. A huge smile of hot guilt and embarrassment on your face, that you hid in your pillow. It was true! The first stages of your pregnancy had made you quite frisky towards Henry. Sometimes so much so, he hadn't recovered from the last time you'd had sex and would need to pleasure you in other ways to bring your arousal down. Not that the man complained about it! But a couple weeks into your third trimester, the raging inferno of your passions cooled off. Even beyond what they were before you were expecting. You were just too tired and sore, uncomfortable, and just ready to give birth, to think of such things. But again, Henry didn't complain. You were grateful for that, because you felt bad that your mood didn't match his, at the moment.

Having seen the look of concupiscent on his face more than once, as the two of you showered together, went to bed or woke in the mornings. But you just didn't have it in you, and he took it with grace and understanding acceptance, not pressuring you or making you feel like a bad partner, for not reciprocating.

The two of you calmed down and allowed each other to finally fall asleep.

“How are you feeling, sweetheart?” Henry asked, the next morning as the two of you finished breakfast.

“I feel all right, Bubs. Only a few pains here and there.” You answered, polishing off your usual cup of chamomile tea, something that had been a staple throughout your pregnancy, to battle your morning sickness and heartburn. “Excited to make cookies with your mum.”

Henry smiled across the table at you. “Good. I bet all these sugary smells are going to drive you and wee man nutty.”

It was a Cavill family tradition to get together, before Christmas, and make cookies for the big family dinner party, as well as to give out as tokens to friends and neighbors. It was also considered quite the honor among the Cavill brothers' wives to have Marianne ask to join her in the massive production. Since she didn't ask just anyone to help her; having a couple secret family recipes to protect in the process. But Marianne had asked, surprisingly and much to Henry's pride, you to help her, at your and Henry's first Christmas. Something that made one or two of Henry's sisters-in-law jealous, especially since the two of you were new and still dating, and one of them had never been asked.

Even to this day.

“Our mouths are already watering for your mother's chocolate chip, mocha cookies.” You confessed; it was one of the many things you looked forward to for Christmas. Marianne's chocolate chip, mocha flavored cookies were something you'd start a fight over, as were her chocolate covered, Oreo truffles with peppermint bark crumble on top. “Oh god.” You moaned, stuffing the last bit of bland, buttered toast into your mouth; Henry laughing at you.

“I'm going to roast up another heritage turkey this year.” He commented, finishing his coffee, then helped clear the breakfast table. “Everyone seemed to love it last year.”

“That's fine with me.” You answered, loading the soap dispenser and starting the dishwasher. “I have one small request.”

“You could make an enormous request, love!” Henry snorted, taking a protein shake out of the fridge.

“I want yams with roasted marshmallows on top.” You told him, confidently. “To myself.”

“To yourself?” He echoed, a smirk on his lips. “How big is the dish?”

“A small one is fine. I just don't want to share it.” You confessed your craving to him.

Letting out a laugh and nodding, Henry shrugged. “All right then. I'll make sure you have your roasted marshmallow covered yams, and I'll have Kal guard them.”

“Excellent.” You nodded back, then looked at your watch. “We should get going. Your mother asked us to get there before ten.” You informed him, heading for the front door and eased yourself down on a small bench that was there.

Henry joined you, squatting down to grab your shoes from underneath the bench and slipped them on your feet, tying them securely, since your prominently belly prevented you from reaching your feet to put on your shoes. Let alone tie them. Your shoes on and helping you back up, Henry got his own shoes on, but paused as he opened the door for you and Kal. He glanced back at the hall closet. Biting his lip, he hurried over and grabbed the baby bag from inside, then dashed after you, putting the bag in the back as he got behind the wheel.

“Just in case.” He answered your lifted brow.

“Fair, I suppose.” You shrugged, unable to argue with his logic.

“How are you holding up, my love?” Henry asked, peeking into the kitchen, before shuffling over to you, sure his mother wouldn't shoo him out.

“My cookie restraint thinned dramatically after the second batch.” You confessed, looking around at all the Santa's, snowmen, candy canes and snowflakes that were either waiting to go into the oven or cooling. “However, your mum apparently anticipated this. Making me batch yesterday, so I could nibble on them, while we made these.”

Henry grinned, touched at his mother's thoughtfulness. “That was sweet of her.” He cooed, brushing the back of his fingers over your cheek. “Have you had any more pains?” He asked, his brows pinching slightly, worried.

“Nothing concerning.” You told him, closing your hand around his wrist. “You know I'd come get you.” You tried assuring him, giving him a soft smile. “Or your mum would, should my water break.” You giggled, a smile turning into a smirk.

“That's not funny, babe.” Henry snapped softly, eyes big.

You pressed your lips together, guilty, before pushing up on your bare toes, having taken off your shoes for the long standing in the kitchen, to press your lips against Henry's. “I'm sorry, Puppy.” You mumbled against them, before reaching around him, grabbing a finished Snowman, presenting it to his mouth in place of your own. “I baked and decorated this one myself.” You grinned at him, a glitter of pride in your eyes.

“Oh, did you?” He cooed, opening his mouth to admit the round biscuit of white icing, adorned with two black chocolate pearls for eyes and smaller black sugar pearls for a mouth. It had a carrot nose, made of orange icing and the upper crown of the biscuit was covered in purple, blue and white hundreds and thousands, then outlined with silvery snowflake-shaped sprinkles.

Taking the biscuit from you, Henry nibbled on it, already knowing it would be delicious, since you had made it with his family's age-old recipe. “You know.” He mumbled around his mouthful. “I can't wait to share these with our little guy.” He said, smirking down at the bake, before glancing around the kitchen.

“Well, technically, I've already done that.” You giggle, running your hand over the globe of your belly.

Henry snorted loudly, his smirk growing. “You have me there, my love.” He replied, finishing his treat off, reaching out to lay his hand on your stomach as he saw the moments of your son shift, pressing either an elbow or knee out. “Still trips me out to see him move inside of you.” He commented, feeling something around nudge against his palm.

“You should feel it from this end.” You huffed, making a face at the kicks as he tumbled about, prodding a heel into your ribs and a shoulder into your slowly screaming bladder. “Poor bud is running out of space in there.” You cooed, moving your hand to cup the underside of your stomach.

“That he is.” He agreed, leaning down to press a kiss to your belly. “But, soon he'll be out here with us.”

“Henry William Dalgliesh Cavill.”

A cold chill washed down Henry's back, making the little hairs on his neck stand up as he straightened. “Mum.” He squeaked, looking at her over your shoulder.

“You know the rules of setting foot in my kitchen, while we bake.” Marianne scolded her second youngest.

“I do.” He nodded, biting his lip as he half smirked at her. “I was just checking up on her and our little one.” He explained, motioning to you.

Marianne's gaze shifted, her soft and kind blue eyes looking you over. She had noticed the few contractions you'd experience while helping her bake, and had sharpened her eye on you even more. Everyone in the family had a side eye on you it seemed, with your due date so nearby, like they were concerned you would pop like a water balloon.

“I'm fine.” You sighed softly, offering her a reassuring smile.

“Then, you can pop out of our kitchen.” Marianne said, cocking a brow at her son.

You chuckled, loving the nonchalance she had. “We'll see you later, my dear.” You cooed at him, kissing the corner of his mouth, tasting the sugar on his lips and inciting a need for another cookie from your stash. “Off you go.” You giggled, patting him on the chest and set your eyes on your task.

Henry looked at his mother with a pointed look, gesturing towards you, to which Marianne answered with a roll of her eyes and picked up a sheet of cookies needing to go into the oven.

“My back is to you, Henry, not my senses.” You shot over your shoulder, cutting out more cookies from the dough.

“Christ alive, our son has his work cut out for him.” He chuckled, winking at you as he turned to leave and rejoin his brothers and dad in the living room.

You looked over at Marianne and laughed, your mother-in-law joining in, the two of you amused he didn't realize you'd seen her roll her eyes.

“That boy.” Marianne chuckled, shaking her head as she moved to stand beside you, helping portion out the raw dough.

“He's freaked out.” You commented, gently laying a Santa on the sheet.

“Understandably.” She answered, wielding the snowflake cutter with skill. “The first baby is always the most stressful, and Henry's wanted to be a father for a very long time.”

“I know he has.” You nodded, feeling your stomach lightly bump the edge of the counter. “I'm happy and excited for our little one.” You told her, wadding up the scrap dough, then picked up a rolling pin. “I'm definitely ready not to be pregnant anymore.” You snorted, smiling faintly.

“And your worries?” Marianne asked, tilting her head at you, without pausing her work.

You drew in a slow, deep breath. “I'm worried about the labor. I'm terrified about whether or not I'll make a good parent.” You confessed to her, letting your breath out. “I know Henry will, he's incredible with kids. I love watching him with his younger fans, with his nieces and nephews.” You gush, grinning at the flashes of memories. “Seeing him hold Ellie, when we first met her--” You shook your head, a bubble of emotions overwhelming you for a moment, til you cleared your throat.

“You'll be a great mother.” Marianne reassured you, running her hand up and down your back. “You have nothing to worry about there. You'll have me and your mum to help you, as well as Heather and all the other girls.”

“I know.” You nodded, resting your shoulder against hers. “And I appreciate it, with all my heart.”

“Why don't you go upstairs, to Henry's old room, and rest for a bit?” She suggested to you. “I can finish the cookies with Heather.”

“Are you sure?” You frowned, glancing around the organized chaos of the kitchen.

“Yes.” She nodded, resting her hands on your shoulders and turning you away from the counter. “You and my grandson need all the rest you can get.” She directed you towards the entry of the kitchen. “Soon, you won't have it.”

Henry saw his mum guiding you and instantly jumped up from the couch, where he sat beside his brother Simon. “Are you all right, honey?” He cooed, his handsome face pinching.

“She's fine, Henry.” Marianne replied, looking up at him. “She just needs to rest a bit. Take her upstairs.”

“All right.” He nodded, taking your arm and showed you upstairs to the bedroom that was his as a kid. “Can I get you anything? Some water, maybe.” He asked, helping you lay back on the made, full-size bed.

“I'm all right, Puppy.” You sighed, rubbing your face.

“What's wrong, honey?” He asked, pulling up a chair from the desk in his room and sat down in front of you.

“Nothing's wrong.” You replied, sighing, flexing your plump toes as Henry grasped your foot in his hands. “I'm just tired and sore.” You told him, closing your eyes as you let out a soft moan, feeling Henry's thumbs work your arch.

“I got the Dad Talk from my dad and brothers.” He chuckled, gently touching the tip of your toes, each painted a cute red color, that he had done himself about a week before.

He had started giving you little at home, medi-pedis to treat you to something nice. Though, it had taken him a couple tries to get painting your nails down. Admitting it wasn't as simple as painting his Warhammer Minis, like he'd thought.

You giggled back, smirking. “Did they?” You hummed, letting your eyes fall shut. “Any good advice?”

“Um, Simon said that I should explain my job to him as soon as we think he can understand it.” Henry recalled, biting his lip with an amused smirk pulling across his mouth. “So, we don't have another Thomas Incident on our hands.”

“My dad's Sherlock Holmes!” You replied, laughing aloud. “Or god-knows who else!”

“Exactly.” He nodded, amused by it too. “My dad suggested, should we have any more kids, to have girls, that way it doesn't continue on the Cavill boy madness, like dead arms and throwing each other off the couch.”

“I would like, at least, one girl, anyway.” You told him, laying your hand on your stomach, feeling your son shift and kick again, wincing as he did.

“Same.” He smirked, as excited as he was for a son, he had wanted a girl too. “Maybe the next one.”

“Mmm.” You hummed back, falling silent and drifting slightly.

Taking the hint, Henry rested your legs in his lap and leaned back, closing his own eyes to rest. Both of you were exhausted from the months of preparation for the baby, all the worrying about if you would be good parents and protecting your son against the world of social media and paparazzi. But the pair of you had only laid there for twenty or so minutes, before you jerked at a sharp pain, inadvertently kicking Henry in the stomach as you did.

Henry gasped and groaned at the blow, doubling over. “Babe?” He rasped, frowning across at you, finding you half sitting up, hand cupping the underside of your stomach with a look of shocked horror on your face. “What's wron—oh shit!” He snapped, seeing the wet patch seeping through your leggings and onto the duvet on the bed.

“Was that--”

“Uh-huh.” You nodded, gulping thickly.

“It's okay, all right.” He nodded, running both hands through his curls. “Up we go.” He said, holding his shaking hands out to you, pulling you up and wrapping an arm around your waist. “Broke your water on my childhood bed.” He commented offhandedly, letting out a nervous chuckle.

“It is where we had our first kiss.” You added, lifting a brow at him. “Why not this too!”

“Mum!” Henry called out as you reached the bottom of the stairs. “We have to go.” He said as Marianne rounded the corner from the living room. “Someone's water broke.”

“Oh gosh!” She exclaimed, throwing her hands up. “Go hurry!” She shooed the two of you towards the door, before spinning on her feet. “Code blue everybody!” She shouted at the family gathered in the living room, snapping them into gear, sending brothers and in-laws scrambling everywhere.

“How are you feeling, sweetheart?” Henry asked as he helped you buckle your seatbelt.

“Like I just peed myself.” You snorted, clutching your belly. “Henry.” You cooed at him, watching him make jerky movements but not move from your side. “Hen!” You called, reaching out to grab his shoulder, giving him a gentle shake.

“Huh?” He whimpered, blinking a few times.

“My shoes are still in the house.” You informed him, offering your sweet partner a smile.

“Oh right!” He nodded, kissing your hand and backing away to close your door, then raced back inside, running into a gaggle of his family fighting to put on shoes and coats. “Excuse me, pardon me!” He barked, diving into the huddle, scrabbling for your shoes.

“Henry!” Nik shouted after him.

“I forgot her shoes!” Henry yelled over his shoulder, pelting back to the car. “Got them!” He smiled, sliding home into the driver's seat and dropping them onto the center console. “I'll put them on you, when we get to the hospital.” He told you, starting the car and pulling away from the curb, while ordering Alexa to map the route to Jersey General Hospital, the very hospital where he and his brothers had been born.

“Speed limit, Cavill!” You reminded him, frowning.

“Baby!”

“He's not going to pop out right now!!”

“He could!

“Between the two of us, Hank, I'm damn sure he's not!” You snapped back, through a contraction. “Deep b-breaths! ” You wheezed, through the pain.

“Relax your shoulders, don't clench your jaw, take a deep breath in....and let it out!” Henry reciting your Douala and doing the technique with you. “Amazing, baby doll. I'm so proud of you.”

“Jesus Christ on a motorbike.” You sighed as the pain faded. “We're waiting at least three years before we have our daughter.” You panted over at him.

“Yes, ma'am.” Henry laughed, holding his hand out to you. “Whatever you want.”

“I know what we should name him.” You said, softly.

“Oh?” He replied, pulling into the hospital parking lot. “What?”

You looked over at him, your expression soft. “I want to name him, Charlie.” You told him, biting the corner of your lip, you'd put a lot of consideration into it over your pregnancy. “We wouldn't have met, if your brother didn't nag you to come talk to me at that club.”

Biting his lip, a heart shaped lump thumping in his throat. “You're right.” He whispered; voice raw.

Charlie had prodded him for an hour, while supplying him with shots of liquid courage, to finally cross the club you both were in. You were with your friends, blowing off steam after a long work week, and Henry, Charlie and two other friends of Henry's were just hanging out, since he was in town and not working on any projects.

He never forgot the look on your friends' faces as he approached your table, recognizing him, melting into the dark leather of your corner booth and mumbling to each other with hungry, googly eyes. But you, while surprised a celeb was approaching you, hadn't fawned over him, like they did. You'd kept your cool, with jittery insides. Henry politely acknowledged everyone at the table, but his blue eyes were set on you. He asked, trying to have a persona of cool and calm, if he could get you a drink, noting on the way over, yours was empty, and with relief, you'd said yes. So, you dislodged yourself from your friends and followed him to the bar. Striking up a conversation with him, that moved to an empty table, after getting your drinks and lasted until the announcement the club was closing, at two am.

Neither of you had wanted to move apart, but it was late and you both knew it. So, you exchanged numbers and texted while you got yourselves home, then fell asleep. Making the promise to have a proper dinner the next day.

All of which snowballed to this moment. Sitting in the car at the hospital, married and staring at each other between contractions, discussing the name you wanted for your first born, for your son.

“It's perfect.” He nodded, reaching out to cup your cheek. “I could ask for nothing more for Christmas, than you and our son, for Charlie.” He choked up, leaning across to kiss you deeply.

@winter2112rose / @littlefreya / @kemillyfreitas / @thereisa8ella / @courtlynwriter / @starfirewildheart / @beck07990 / @goldenirishpotato / @pipsqueakkitten

#viking-raider fics #A Christmas Miracle #A Christmas Miracle *Fic*#Henry Cavill #Henry Cavill RPF #British Actor RPF #Fluff #Cotton Candy Fluff #Christmas Fluff #Christmas Story #Christmas Fic #new fic #henrycavill #In-Laws

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kinghenryviii-i-am · 1 year ago

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Mission Impossible 6 Behind the scenes

#henry cavill #Tom cruise #he deserved a better story in this movie though #mi6

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mischievous-thunder · 1 year ago

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What is life if not dedicated to keeping your loved ones safe?

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sweetdreamcreater · 1 month ago

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Elixirs of Fate

Pairing: Geralt of Rivia x Human Female (OFC)

Warning /tags: smut (18+), NSFW, unprotected sex (practice safe sex, please), creampie, Oral sex, dirty talk, light dom/sub, p in v, fingering.

About: Geralt finally accepts his feelings for Andrea (OFC)

Part 1

“You’re staring, Geralt.” Andrea’s voice was soft, teasing, and laced with something unmistakable. Her lips curled into a sly smile as she leaned back against the counter of her cluttered cottage, one hand resting on a vial of shimmering blue liquid.

Geralt’s golden eyes flickered up to hers, his expression unreadable—or so he thought. But Andrea could see the slight tension in his jaw, the way his fingers twitched at his side. She knew him too well.

“I’m not,” he muttered, gruff as ever. His voice was low, gravelly, but there was a hint of something else beneath it. Something she’d been waiting to hear for months. She tilted her head, letting the firelight catch the sheer fabric of her dress. It clung to her curves like a second skin, the material so thin it left little to the imagination. The neckline dipped dangerously low, and the slit along her thigh teased just enough to make Geralt’s breath hitch. He tried to look away, but his gaze kept drifting back to her, drawn like a moth to flame.

“Liar,” she purred, taking a step closer. The scent of herbs and spices filled the air around her, mingling with something sweeter, something entirely her. “You’ve been staring since you walked in.”

He shifted uncomfortably, his broad shoulders tense under the weight of his armour. “I came for potions,” he said firmly, though his voice lacked its usual edge. “Not… whatever this is.”

Andrea chuckled softly, her laughter like a melody that made his chest tighten. “Oh, I know why you came,” she said, her green eyes locking onto his. “But that doesn’t mean we can’t have a little fun while you’re here.”

----------‐-----------------------------------------

The first time Geralt had met Andrea, she’d been knee-deep in mud, harvesting rare herbs by the edge of the forest near Kaer Morhen. He’d been on patrol, his senses sharp, his instincts warning him of danger lurking nearby. But when he’d seen her, crouched among the roots of an ancient tree, her auburn hair glinting in the sunlight, he’d momentarily forgotten all about the monsters. “Careful,” he’d called out, his voice cutting through the stillness of the forest. “There’s a leshen nearby.”

She’d looked up, her eyes wide with surprise, but not fear. “I know,” she’d said simply, holding up a small pouch filled with crushed leaves. “That’s why I brought this. It masks my scent.”

Geralt had been impressed despite himself. Most villagers would’ve run screaming at the mention of a leshen. But Andrea wasn’t like most villagers. She was a healer, a potion brewer, and one of the few people who didn’t flinch at the sight of a witcher. Over the months, their paths had crossed more often than he cared to admit. Each time, she’d greeted him with that same confidence, that same spark in her eyes that made him feel… unsettled. And each time, he’d told himself it was better this way. She was reckless, wandering the woods alone, risking her life for ingredients he needed. It was dangerous. Too dangerous.

But tonight, as he stood in her cottage, surrounded by the familiar scent of herbs and the faint crackle of the fire, he found himself questioning everything.

“Fun?” Geralt raised an eyebrow, his tone dry but tinged with curiosity. “Last time I checked, ‘fun’ wasn’t part of your usual services.”

Andrea smirked, setting the vial down on the counter before moving closer. She reached out, her fingers brushing lightly over the hilt of his sword. “Maybe I’m feeling generous tonight,” she said, her voice dropping to a whisper. “Or maybe I’m just tired of waiting for you to make the first move.”

His breath caught in his throat as her hand trailed up his arm, her touch sending a jolt of heat through him. He could feel the warmth of her body, so close now, and the way her eyes never left his.

“Waiting?” he echoed, his voice rough.

She laughed softly, the sound sending a shiver down his spine. “Don’t play dumb, Geralt. You’re many things, but oblivious isn’t one of them.” Her fingers grazed his cheek, warm against his cool skin. “I’ve seen the way you look at me. The way you try not to look at me.”

He swallowed hard, his hands itching to reach for her, to pull her closer. But he hesitated, the weight of his doubts pressing down on him. “It’s not safe,” he said finally, his voice strained. “You know that.”

Her expression softened, and for a moment, she looked almost vulnerable. “And what if I don’t care about safety?” she asked, her hand resting against his chest. “What if I care about you?”

Geralt’s heart pounded in his chest, the battle between logic and desire raging within him. He’d spent years building walls, keeping people at arm’s length. But Andrea… she wasn’t afraid of him. She saw past the mutations, the scars, and the rumours. She saw him.

Before he could stop himself, his hand came up to cover hers, his fingers intertwining with hers. “Andrea,” he murmured, her name slipping from his lips like a prayer.

She smiled, and it was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. “Finally,” she whispered, rising on her toes to close the distance between them. Her lips brushed against his, light as a feather, and yet it was enough to make his knees weak.

He couldn’t hold back any longer. With a low growl, he pulled her flush against him, his mouth crashing down on hers with a hunger that surprised even him. She gasped into the kiss, her hands tangling in his hair as she kissed him back with equal fervour.

Her skin glowed in the firelight, smooth and soft, and he couldn’t help but run his hands over every inch of her.

“Geralt,” she moaned, arching into his touch as his fingers explored the curve of her hip, the dip of her waist. Her voice was music to his ears, a symphony of pleasure that drove him wild.

He lifted her effortlessly, carrying her to the bed in the corner of the room. The old wooden frame creaked under their combined weight, but neither of them noticed. All that mattered was the way their bodies fit together, the way she trembled beneath him as he kissed his way down her neck…

"Wait," Andrea breathed, her hands pushing gently against his chest. Geralt froze, his muscles taut as he stared down at her, confusion and desire warring in his eyes.

"What is it?" he growled, his voice thick with need.

She bit her lip, her gaze darting toward the vial of blue liquid still sitting on the counter. "The potion..."

Geralt’s lips curved into a slow, predatory smirk as he leaned closer to Andrea, his breath hot against her ear. “The potion can wait,” he growled, his voice low and commanding. His hand traced a path down her side, fingertips brushing over the thin fabric of her dress, feeling the heat of her skin beneath.

Andrea shivered, her body arching slightly toward him, but she feigned resistance, pressing her hands more firmly against his chest. “Geralt, you need it for the hunt,” she murmured, though her voice wavered, betraying her words.

“What I need,” he said, his tone leaving no room for argument, “is you.” His fingers grasped the hem of her dress, tugging it upward with deliberate slowness. The fabric slid up her thighs, revealing the soft curve of her hips, and the pale skin of her stomach. Andrea’s breath hitched as his touch grew bolder, his palm sliding up to cup her breast through the flimsy material.

Her nipple hardened instantly under his attention, and Geralt let out a dark chuckle, pinching it lightly between his fingers. “You’re already so eager for me,” he murmured, his eyes locked on hers. “I can feel it.”

Andrea’s cheeks flushed, but she didn’t deny it. Instead, she bit her lip, her breathing growing uneven as his thumb circled her nipple, teasing it through the fabric until she couldn’t help but gasp. His other hand moved to her opposite breast, kneading and squeezing with just the right amount of pressure to make her squirm.

“Geralt…” she breathed, her hands finally sliding up to grip his shoulders instead of pushing him away.

“Tell me you want this,” he demanded, his voice rough with desire. His fingers slipped beneath the neckline of her dress, pulling it down to expose her breasts fully. He paused just long enough to admire the sight—her nipples hard and pink, begging for his attention.

“I want it,” Andrea whispered, her voice trembling. “I want you.”

That was all the encouragement Geralt needed. He bent his head, capturing one nipple between his lips, sucking and flicking his tongue over the sensitive peak. Andrea moaned, her fingers tangling in his hair as he lavished attention on her breasts, moving from one to the other, leaving them wet and glistening in the dim light.

He grabbed the hem of her dress once more, pulling it up and over her hips, exposing her completely. “Fuck, you’re beautiful,” he muttered, his hands gripping her ass, spreading her open. Andrea gasped as he leaned in, kissing and nipping at her inner thighs, driving her wild.

But Geralt wasn’t patient tonight. He rose to his full height, unbuckling his trousers and freeing his cock, already hard and throbbing with need. He pressed the tip against her entrance, teasing her, making her whimper with anticipation.

His hands roamed lower, sliding over her hips and down to her thighs, spreading them apart as he positioned himself between her legs. “On your knees,” he ordered, his voice firm but laced with hunger.

Andrea hesitated for only a moment before obeying, turning around and positioning herself on her hands and knees. The dress clung to her curves, the fabric barely covering her ass as she looked back at him over her shoulder. Geralt’s gaze darkened as he took in the sight of her, ready and willing.

Andrea’s nails dug into the sheets. “Please, Geralt,” she pleaded, her voice shaky. “I need you inside me.”

Geralt thrust into her, burying himself to the hilt in one smooth motion. Andrea cried out, her body arching as he filled her completely. He gave her no time to adjust, setting a steady, punishing rhythm that had her gasping with every stroke.

One hand gripped her hip tightly, holding her in place, while the other reached around to play with her breasts again. He squeezed and pulled at her nipples, the sensation shooting straight to her core, making her clench around him.

“You feel so fucking good,” Geralt groaned, his pace quickening. His breath came in ragged bursts as he fucked her harder, driving her closer and closer to the edge.

Andrea’s moans grew louder, her body trembling as pleasure coiled tighter and tighter within her. “Geralt… I’m close…” she managed to gasp, her words barely coherent.

“Come for me,” he growled, his fingers pinching her nipple sharply, sending a jolt of pleasure through her.

That was all it took. Andrea cried out, her body convulsing as wave after wave of ecstasy crashed over her. She felt Geralt’s grip tighten on her hip, his own release following shortly after as he spilt inside her with a deep, guttural groan.

For a moment, they stayed like that, both of them panting and trembling as they rode out the aftershocks. Then Geralt leaned forward, pressing a kiss to the back of her neck. “Still think the potion can’t wait?” he teased, his voice thick with satisfaction.

Andrea laughed weakly, collapsing onto the bed beneath her. “Maybe… maybe just a little longer,” she admitted, turning her head to look at him with a sly smile.

Part 2

The room was still warm, the air thick with the scent of their shared desire. Geralt lay on his back, one arm draped lazily over Andrea’s waist as she nestled into the crook of his shoulder. Her fingers traced idle patterns across his chest, her breath soft and even against his skin. For a moment, it was peaceful—too peaceful for a witcher used to chaos.

But peace had a way of turning restless when Andrea was involved.

Her hand slid lower, her fingertips brushing the faint trail of hair leading down his abdomen. She felt him tense beneath her touch, his body already responding to her unspoken invitation. “Tired already?” she murmured, her voice dripping with playful mockery as she tilted her head to look up at him.

“Never,” she replied, her smile widening as she propped herself up on one elbow. Her other hand continued its exploration, wrapping around his hardening length and giving him a slow, deliberate stroke. “I think you’ve got one more round in you.”

Geralt’s golden eyes flicked down to meet hers, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “You don’t know when to quit, do you?”

He groaned, his head falling back against the pillow. “You’re going to be the death of me, woman.”

“Oh, I doubt that,” Andrea purred, leaning down to press a kiss to his chest. Her lips trailed lower, leaving a path of hot, open-mouthed kisses along his torso. When she reached his waist, she paused, glancing up at him with mischief dancing in her eyes. “Let me take care of you this time.”

Before he could protest—not that he would have—she lowered her mouth onto him, her tongue swirling around the sensitive tip before taking him deeper. Geralt’s breath hitched, a low growl rumbling in his chest as he tangled his fingers in her hair. “Fuck, Andrea…”

She hummed in response, the vibration sending a jolt of pleasure through him. Her pace was unhurried, almost teasing, as she worked him with her mouth and hands. Every now and then, she’d glance up at him, her eyes dark with desire, and he couldn’t help but wonder how someone so delicate could wield such power over him.

When she finally pulled away, his cock was throbbing, pre-cum glistening at the tip. Andrea wiped her lips with the back of her hand, a coy smile playing on her face. “Now, where were we?”

Geralt didn’t give her a chance to answer. In one swift motion, he flipped her onto her back, pinning her wrists above her head as he settled between her legs. His gaze burned into hers, predatory and possessive. “You’re playing with fire, darling.”

Andrea laughed, the sound rich and throaty. “And yet, here you are, ready to burn with me.”

He growled, capturing her lips in a searing kiss as he lined himself up with her entrance. With one firm thrust, he was inside her again, both of them moaning at the sensation. He set a steady rhythm, each movement deliberate and deep, as if trying to brand himself into her very soul.

Andrea arched her back, her nails digging into his shoulders as she urged him on. “Harder, Geralt. Please.”

He obliged, his hips snapping forward with increased force. One hand released her wrist to cup her breast, his thumb circling her nipple before catching it between his teeth. Andrea gasped, her body trembling as he bit down lightly, the mix of pain and pleasure sending shockwaves through her.

His mouth moved to her other breast, lavishing it with the same attention while his free hand roamed her body, exploring every curve and dip. He loved the way she responded to him, the way her breath hitched and her muscles tightened with every touch. It was intoxicating, knowing he could reduce her to a quivering mess with just his hands and mouth.

“Geralt,” she whimpered, her voice barely above a whisper. “I’m close…”

He didn’t need to be told twice. Releasing her breast, he braced himself on his elbows, his movements becoming more frantic as he chased his release. Andrea’s legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him deeper still until they were both teetering on the edge.

With a final, powerful thrust, Geralt buried himself to the hilt, his roar mingling with Andrea’s cry as they came together. The world seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of them lost in the throes of passion.

As their breathing began to slow, Geralt pressed his forehead to hers, their noses brushing as he looked into her eyes. “Still think I’m tired?”

Andrea chuckled weakly, her fingers trailing down his spine. “Not in the slightest. But maybe… we should take a break. Just for a moment.”

“A moment,” he agreed, though neither of them made any move to pull apart. Instead, they lay there, bodies entwined, savouring the heat and intimacy of the moment.

But moments had a way of slipping by too quickly, especially when Andrea’s hand began to wander once more. “Or…” she whispered, her lips grazing his ear, “we could see just how much more you can take.”

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hey-its-roseaurum · 9 months ago

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Guilty Until Proven Innocent: Part II

A/N: Hello again everyone, it's been a minute. I couldn't post this part until @lainiespicewrites finished her part. This part was fun and extremely difficult to write, so if it ends up being a dumpster fire, then I'm sorry. Hopefully not. Anyway hope you enjoy it and let me know your thoughts.

Synopsis: After the agreement to work with Sherlock, Olivia was given an address to meet and discuss the plan. Once she arrives, she discovers something about Sherlock that not a lot of people get to see.

“221 Baker’s Street. You didn’t mention that it would be on the second floor Sherlock” I huffed to myself as I made my way up the stairs. The night before Sherlock had briefly explained that I had to meet him at a specific location tomorrow. He said he would give me all the information I needed. When asked why he couldn’t mention it here, he mentioned he wanted to be safe before revealing crucial details about a case.

So here I am, trudging up the stairs.

And I hate every second of it.

But I push through my heavy breathing until I make it to the final step. It wasn’t until I could breathe evenly that I knocked on the door.

A heavy pause lingered in the air before the door creaked open.

“You’re late.” A gruff voice sliced the air. Sherlock stood right in front of me, one hand on the door, the other holding a pipe.

“Sorry. I had a hard time finding this place.” He stepped aside, leaving a glimpse of inside his flat. A silent invitation. “You never mentioned that this place was on the second floor. Those stairs were brutal.”

“One should always have steps, to avoid people stepping on you.” Sherlock merely stated, his eyes tracking my movements as I passed the threshold into his place.

“Umm…I’m not sure I entirely follow. But I’m pretty sure-” I stopped suddenly as my brain caught up with what was happening around me. The hairs on my neck stood up as I felt my breath catch in my throat. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing.

Everything, even parts of the floor was consumed by documents of varying sizes. Some were folded, some were ripped. There were even some with tea stains. Not one seat, save for one in the middle of the flat, wasn’t covered by some degree.

How can someone live, let alone work, in a place like this?

One of my main pet peeves is cleanliness. It’s been instilled in me ever since I was able to move. My mother always said that a clean house is a clear mind. I tried my best to make my home as clean and decluttered as I could; even when I was at the small cottage.

But to see someone as put together on the outside live in such a state, especially someone like Sherlock Holmes, says something about their mind…

I bit my bottom lip and drew my attention away from the mess and towards the smoke trailing behind Sherlock. It took everything in my power to distract myself

“So…what is it that you need me to do exactly?”

Sherlock had traveled to the other side of the flat, completely avoiding the papers. He puffed on his pipe, his face strained in thought.

“There is a performance at The Reform tonight. It appears to be a central location that the suspect likes to visit. His latest victim had been a showgirl. I need you to go in and see if you can retrieve any belongings of the two victims.” My eyebrows creased together in question.

“Pardon? Two questions. You mentioned ‘latest victim’. There’s more than one victim. Why has it not been mentioned in the newspapers? Two, if I go in, how do we know that their belongings are still there? They could be gone by now.”

“Due to the budget of the showroom and the amount of performers it takes to run a show, the items won’t be touched. The show requires six performers to perform without any hindrance. So far the show has five currently. It will not run unless they have the right number of people to perform all of the acts. The police haven’t connected the string of murders to one suspect yet. They believe that there is no connection and no motive between the two.” So there has been another murder, but it hasn’t been revealed to the public. Why?

It doesn’t make sense. There was only one mention of a death that had claimed to be murder, at least from what I can recall. The only other thing that has been repeatedly mentioned is about a new entertainment business coming to London. It had been on the front page three consecutive times. But the murders and the entertainment show can’t be connected, can they?

“Olivia, have I lost you?” Sherlock’s voice grew in my ears like thunder in a growing storm, shocking me out of my thoughts.

“NO!….no.” I jerked my gaze to meet his. My eyes trailed back to the ground and focused on each paper. It took most of my attention to avoid stepping on any of the documents on the ground. “Please continue.” Sherlock stared at me momentarily, taking a puff of his pipe before continuing.

“I’ll need you to pose as one of the new dancers hired for the show. You will be given access to their belongings. Look for any personal belongings related to the victim, acquire them, and exit before the show begins. Do you have any questions?”

“One question actually, um…if there are five performers and I’m posing as the sixth one, what is stopping the showrunner from putting me in the actual performance?” I felt a slight quiver in my voice when the question left my lips. My nerves felt like they were beginning to light on fire, and my breathing quickened with each passing thought of having to go on a stage.

“Because there is a sixth performer. You are to get in and leave before they arrive. Try not to run into them before you get what you need.”

“Oh…ok, great.” I swallowed hard, feeling my anxiety growing. How am I supposed to know what I’m supposed to grab? I don’t know anything about the victim. What if I take the wrong item? What if I can’t even make it inside? Even if I make it inside, there’s no guarantee that I won’t get caught. If I did then everything would be for naught. I’d end up in jail with no money to get bailed out. I would let the victims’ families down, and let the murderer have another chance to strike. Worst of all, I’d have the greatest detective in the world disappointed in me and regret ever allowing me to work with him.

Keep it together Olivia.

“You look troubled. What is it?” His words sounded far away with the ringing in my ears. I swallowed hard, trying to keep my composure.

“It’s nothing. It’s not pertaining to the case.” My voice felt out of place like it wasn’t me talking. I felt like I wasn’t in my own body. I didn’t want Sherlock to know my doubts about this task. We weren’t as close as I would like to be. And the last thing I want is to show Sherlock how much of a mess I am inside. He’d label me as just another person possessed by their own emotions.

I mean I sort of am but I didn’t want to divulge that with him. It would just add to the list of things he’d be disappointed in.

Stop it

“I don’t want this to affect you when you are out there. So please get it off your chest.” There was a slight tilt to his head, his gaze analyzing me. I could feel him already concluding that I was not cut out for something like this.

“It’s just…” I trailed off. How could I tell him that what I was about to do was crazy? Everything I said when I was back at Edith’s place was completely spur of the moment. At the time I genuinely thought that I would be able to pull something like this off. Having it mere hours away from happening felt like I had been dowsed in ice water.

“Olivia.” Just one word, my name, stilled my thoughts and pulled my attention to Sherlock. His face had less of an edge to it like his demeanor had shifted and began to morph into something else. I don’t know what it was but he almost appeared gentle and patient. It was a complete contrast to what I saw several moments ago. This was not the same Sherlock that had asked for help a fortnight ago.

This made it almost harder to speak.

“Okay, okay It’s just….” I bit my bottom lip, “why is your place so messy?” I blurted out, completely changing the topic. Maybe if I talk about something else I won’t have to show my doubts.

“It’s not messy. Everything is where it needs to be.” Sherlock appeared slightly taken aback by my sudden question.

“Right…that’s not what I’m seeing here. It looks like you’ve just thrown around-”

“You’re changing the topic, Olivia.” Shit…he knew what I was doing. I guess I don’t have a choice…

“Okay fine. I’m just worried about tonight, that’s all.” A long sigh escaped my lips, “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I don’t look like showgirl material. I mean LOOK at me.” I stretched out my arms showcasing all the bumps, dips, and curves of my body. “There’s no way I would pass as one, let alone be able to get through the door. People like me are the ones who listen to the music and the cheering outside the building. I don’t want to let the victim's family down, or especially you.” A heavy presence filled the air, choking the silence. Sherlock just stared at me. I don’t know if it was out of shock or if he was reconsidering his decision to bring me into this.

I don’t care anymore. I let my insecurity out and hung it up to dry for him to see.

All he has to do is say the words and I’ll be on my way back to my little damp cottage.

“You know Olivia…” Sherlock cleared his throat, saying, “It’s normal to feel anxious about an uncertain situation.” He paused, taking a moment to place his pipe on a nearby table. “I’m going to give you a piece of advice. Out there, feelings and being emotional poses a risk. It is understandable for you, given the danger you may face. However if you feel like this is too difficult for you, then I won’t force you to do this. I can find other routes to get what I acquire. All you have to do is say the word.”

He’s giving me a choice.

He knows that the situation can be dangerous. He knows that I’m feeling overwhelmed, but isn’t forcing me to commit. There’s still a chance to back out, and yet he’s still giving me the option, however much that hurts him. And if I don’t do this, it’s another chance to be another victim.

I can’t let myself back out.

“No,” I paused, collecting myself. “No, I can do this. I won’t let my emotions get in the way.” A pleased look crossed his face, a small smirk threatening to reveal itself.

“Good. I’ll see you tonight.”

A/N: Thank you to the following people who wanted to see this part happen. Stay tuned for part 3!!

Tag List:

@lainiespicewrites

@shellyshellshell

@xblueriddlex

@rosecentury