#they pulled a The Witcher with the feeling of time

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

A Barter 5

Warnings: dubious and nonconsent, foreplay, I am a dark blog and I write dark things.

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

Character: Geralt of Rivia

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

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

You bring the cloth to the witcher’s cheek. You wipe gently as you feel his bold eyes on you. You meet them and flinch. You’ve never seen irises like that and his expression is forged in stone. Unbreakable. He doesn’t appear very pleased to have his prize. 

You say your name. His brow tweaks. You swallow and put your focus back to the cut. You wipe it clean as he puffs through his nose. 

“Geralt,” he returns. “You will call me only husband.” 

“Yes, husband,” your voice rises as a wisp. 

He surprises you as he grabs your waist suddenly. You recoil, your hands furled as you hold them loft. He spins you and grips the plain wool at the nape of your neck. He rents it so the laces snap and the dress slackens. You squeak as he pushes the fabric past your shoulders. 

As your dress heaps around your clogs, you shiver beneath the thin sheath of your shift. He stands and clamps your shoulders in his large hands. He guides you from behind and stop you before the tup.  

You stare at the water and shudder. After the day’s ride, its heat is tempting but the presence of this man, a husband you do not know, has you wary. He moves behind you, grunting as he leans on a bed post and rips off one boot then the other. 

He continues to undress around you as you wait for him to direct you. You close your eyes as his last layer falls away. He steps up behind you, nearly flush with you as his thick fingertips brush down your sides. He clutches the side of your shift and raises it up little by little; past your knees, then thighs, then pelvis, up your stomach to your chest. You raise your arms to let him strip it away. 

Naked, quivering, scared, you stand trapped between him and the tub. He pets your head, spreading his long fingers round it as he smooths your hair beneath roughened palms. He angles to drag his knuckles down the back of your neck and traces the length of your spine. He trails from your tailbone to your hips and urges you forward. 

You step into the tub as he acts as your balance. He follows you in, one foot then the other, as you wade through the steaming depth. He turns and lowers himself carefully, drawing you down with him. He sits you between his legs, bending them around you as you brace your knees to keep from crumbling.  

He pulls you to lean against him and sighs. Every bit of fatigue and frustration unwinds in that breath. You stay rigid as you feel all of him. He guides your head to rest on his chest then stretches his burly arms over the brim of the tub.  

You stare at the crux of ceiling and wall, frozen despite the heat roiling over you. You feel him twitch beneath the water. Against you. He is turgid and wanting and you can only wait until he takes what he desires. Until he seals your marriage in that final act of dominance. 

You linger like that for a time. His chest rises and falls. You let the rhythm calm you so much as it can. He groans as he sinks into the soak. 

You wince as he curls and arm forward, his hand dipping beneath the surface. He tickles along your stomach, up over the cushiony flesh and along your sternum. He circles your tits with his thick digit then centers on your nipple. He pinches the beaded bud and swirls his thumb around it. A tingle rolls over you. 

You tense and whimper in fear. You’re not ignorant to what husband and wife do but the gossip of the village women bodes of pain and woe. He hushes you as his other hand crawls over your shoulder and up your throat. He frames your jaw and lifts your head. He nuzzles your crown and plumes hot breath over your scalp. 

His other hand descends and he pokes along your thighs. He grunts and you suck in a sharp gasp. You shake and pry your legs apart. His large body cradles yours as his touch slips along your pelvis and his fingers glide over your cunt. 

He pushes his finger between your folds and pushes on your tender pearl. You squeak at the sensation that blooms inside of you. Unthinking, you latch onto his wrist and moan. 

He tuts and lifts his chin to rest on your head. 

“Be a good wife,” he bids as he rolls his finger, the tendrils creeping up your thighs and stomach with each flick. “Shh, shh, shhh.” 

You close your eyes and melt into him as your chest hammers. He drops his other hand to grope your chest again, as if to feel the tempo of fear and furor growing within. He growls as he plays with you, squeezing your bosom as his finger dances on your clit.  

You clasp onto his knees to keep from slipping down and whine. You might try to enjoy what you may before that last wall is stormed. One last delight before a life of duty begins. 

[magnificentposting-fabrizioart]

Episode 17 being entertaining, annoying, and infuriating.

Sparse comments

1) The Leo thing is moving at a snaaaaaail's pace.

I know this is gonna go on for long, so I'm just making peace with it.

2) What a fking random way to start Nigarbrahim. (Talking to the garden scene where she is randomly the one accompanying Hatice)

I know that Stockholm Syndrome is the name of the game in this show but damn this is honestly offensive.

3) Leo and Matrakçi should co-found a Get Over Her support group.

4) Mocenigo returns, this time convinced there's no way Süleyman will be able to turn the gift of a clock into not-so-veiled egomaniacal threat.

Of course, Süleyman relishes the challenge and does exactly that.

5) The janissaries being upset for Ibrahim's success is freaking hilarious given they are recruited the same way he was.

6) Gülsah and Gülnihal are honestly baffling in how much they're willing to be stepped over.

Even more for Gülsah given she even VOLUNTEERED to another murder attempt, as if Mahidevran did not literally throw her under the galley the first time.

7) Everyone is STILL ignoring the murderer still at large

8) WHAT THE F**K WAS THAT TIMESKIP WHAT YEAR IS IT WHO PUT MUSTAFA IN AN AGING CAPSULE-

[eeriefeelingsat3amuwu]

So, because my friend wanted me to draw hunky men in corsets, have some Kaer Morons, in all three versions.

Sketch:

Lineart:

Final:

Yes I did forget their pendants, yes I realized it after I finished doing lineart, yes I am mad at myself. Anyways, hope y’all enjoy lol-

[prythianpages]

Tonight, the Light of Love is in Your Eyes

Azriel x Rhysand's Sister (reader) | You find yourself in the middle of a political affair, where you seek refuge in a dance with Azriel. And in the spur of the moment, Azriel tells you he loves you for the first time.

warnings: secret love, implied smut (brief mention), you and az being impulsive and risking it all

word count: 1,900

a/n: I used the dialogue of this scene from The Witcher as a prompt for this fic.

“Hybern is still close to Spring. Though they’ve lost the war, it seems their alliance still stands. Bradwell has shown interest in her, it’d be best if she takes his favor tonight. Or even Tamlin’s, they are closer in age.”

Your gaze is fixed forward, but your mind drifts, creeping into the quiet mental conversation between your father and brother. They speak of you, as if your own desires are inconsequential, and it stings more than you let show.

“Why should she? When the High Lord of Autumn, who fought alongside our armies, has six sons and one on the way…”

Breathe in, breathe out. You force the command on yourself, struggling to maintain the composure you’ve perfected over years of courtly life. The mask you wear feels more fragile tonight, your heart threatening to crack the facade. 

You allow your eyes to wander and regret it when you meet the gaze of Bradwell–the eldest son of Spring. He is watching you, green eyes gleaming with a predatory sharpness, his smirk oozing arrogance. As if you’re a prize to be won–a prize already won. The sight of it turns your stomach. 

It’s instinctual almost–the way your eyes gravitate toward Azriel as they always do at the slightest discomfort. He’s been your anchor, your safety blanket for years. He stands just a few steps below you, tall and stoic. 

His hands are clenched into fists, shadows weaving and writhing along his limbs in a frenzy, whispering secrets to him that you ache to hear. His head is turned toward Bradwell and there’s no doubt his gaze is hardened into an icy composure when the eldest of Spring suddenly peels his gaze off of you.  

As you pull your gaze away from the Night Court’s Spymaster, you catch your mother’s eye. She sits beside your father on a much simpler throne. She sends you a sympathetic smile and you cast your gaze down, mask faltering as a blush creeps up your neck.

By the Cauldron, how you wish you could be anywhere but here. You’d much rather be alongside Cassian and Mor, who are most likely indulging in the fine wine and cheeses. The only redeeming part of these insufferable court parties.

“Is it not best to keep our most at-risk enemies close? Spring–”

Your body tenses, each muscle coiling as you listen to the words between your brother and father, their minds still unaware of your presence within them. It’s laughable, almost. Rhysand taught you well. You were a later bloomer when it came to the manifestation of your powers but the daemati power runs strong in you. 

Movement catches your eye. It’s Bradwell. He begins to make his way toward you, one hand already reaching for the sage-green handkerchief embroidered with a golden beast. A token you know he plans to offer. The sight of it makes something in you snap. You can’t take it anymore.

You whip your head around, your heart pounding, and your gaze finds Azriel once more—the only one you want. The only one you’ve ever wanted.

“Azriel, will you dance with me?”

The words escape your lips before you even realize you’ve said them. There’s a brief moment where the world seems to still as Azriel turns to meet your gaze. His eyes widen slightly, shadows pausing briefly in midair–the only sign of emotion he shows. 

But you feel a flutter in your chest.

It wouldn’t be the first time he’s danced with you. The two of you have danced plenty of times before. However, it’d be the first time you’d give him your first dance. A notion that seems silly but held to a high esteem in the Court of Nightmares.

You feel your father’s and Rhysand’s gaze also on you–the latter’s eyes narrowing at you. He’s already sensed the lingering presence you left in his mind, and you can feel his talons scratching at the edges of your mental walls. But you hold steady, just as he taught you and push him away.

Azriel keeps his eyes on you yet his shadows peer over his shoulders, the dark tendrils darting back and forth between your brother and father. Cautious and a bit defensive.

It’s your mother who breaks the silence. She had kept her gaze on the dance floor in front of her, that same knowing smile playing on her lips. “It is impolite to keep a lady waiting.”

Azriel nods his head. “Of course.”

He shifts forward–one foot resting on the first step while the other remains on the ground floor. He extends his scarred hand to you, his shadows barely able to contain their excitement, betraying the cool mask he dons.

You smile—truly smile—as you place your hand in his, and together, you walk toward the dance floor. Your heart swells with defiance as you purposefully avert your eyes when passing Bradwell, chin held high. Rhysand’s mental claws scratch harder, desperate to break through your defenses. You continue to shut him out, strengthening the walls of your mind. 

The Cauldron simmers in your favor. As you reach the dance floor, the music shifts to a slower, more romantic melody. Azriel’s hand wraps around yours, his fingers enclosing around your palm while his other hand rests gently at the small of your back. The tension in your body melts under his touch and you find yourself leaning in closer to him, your body always yearning to be with his.

Shadows slither softly around you, hiding within the seams of your black dress like a protective shield. Azriel’s eyebrows furrow and you recognize the brief distant look in his eyes. “Rhys is not happy,” he murmurs. “Your first dance was supposed to be with the eldest son of Spring.”

His jaw clenches and you see the way his shadows curl tighter around him as if to suffocate the jealousy he dares not voice.

“Let him sulk. I get to decide who to dance with, who to be with.”

Azriel was the master of composure. He’s always calm, steady, controlled. But tonight, something in his gaze feels different. There’s something vulnerable there, something pained. He looks away for a moment, as if trying to keep his emotions from manifesting further. 

“I can’t offer you what he can..."

His hand twitches in yours, like he’s about to pull away, but you hold him tighter. “Good,” you respond without hesitation. “I don’t want anything that arrogant ass has to offer.”

Azriel’s eyes snap back to yours, searching, conflicted. He hesitates, as if still grappling with the part of himself that believes he doesn’t deserve this. That you deserve more, much better than him. Someone who can give you the world, not someone who only knows to live in the shadows.

You intertwine your fingers with his, lips curling into a small grin. “Your ass is the only one I want,” you add, your power reaching out to him and gently slipping past his defenses to show him the marvelous view you had of his backside earlier.

And as your thoughts drift to the last night you shared together, where you got to see all of him, Azriel lets out an exhale, his lips mirroring the upwards curl to yours. Taking advantage of the grip you have on his mind, you show him more memories from that night. The way his scarred hands had caressed every inch of your body, his lips following the path his hands made…

 “I can’t give you much,” Azriel’s voice had dropped to a whisper, barely a rasp as he leaned his forehead against yours. His nose brushed with yours, lips hovering right over your own.  “But I can give you everything I have.”

You smiled softly at him, your fingers brushing the side of his face, tracing every line and contour of the male who held your heart. So beautiful, so perfect. 

“That’s all I’ll ever need,” you replied and then closed the small gap between you to kiss him.

The pained look in his hazel eyes melts into something warmer, something sweeter, as he takes in the memories of that night through your eyes. He had never doubted your love, but the weight of his own insecurities—his belief that he was beneath you—constantly gnawed at him.

Every time he touched you in secret, every night you spent hidden away together, he feared that someday you might wake up and realize he wasn’t enough.

But here, dancing with you, the way your eyes held him, he felt that overwhelming doubt ease. To see and feel the depth of your sincerity, as if your very soul called out to his…

“I love you.”

Your heart stilled at the words, your step faltering. In a smooth maneuver, Azriel spins you around, catching you effortlessly before you could stumble. His hands steady you as you face him once more.

 “That’s the first time you’ve said that,” you breathe, your voice barely a whisper, though you know Azriel’s shadows are already ensuring no one else can hear your words.

“It can’t be,” Azriel murmurs in disbelief, brows furrowing slightly. 

“You used to think it,” you quietly admit, your gaze dropping for a moment before returning to his. It wasn’t that you had ever meant to pry, but when it was just the two of you, his mind was often at ease, unguarded. Sometimes, his thoughts would be too loud for you to ignore. “But tonight, you finally said it.”

The shadows hidden within the lacey seams of your dress stir and you watch as one of the shadows lingering over Azriel’s shoulders slithers up and curls around his ear. His grip on you tightens and your ears perk up. 

The song is coming to an end and though couples continue to dance and whirl around you, your nose picks up on an approaching scent. Fresh wildflowers and oak—rich and lovely, exuding the essence of Spring. Yet it fills you with dread. You don’t want this moment to end. You’re tired of pretending, of living this life of secrecy.

“Azriel,” you say, one hand reaching out toward his face to turn his attention back to you. A bold move but tonight, you’re ready to be even bolder. “Kiss me.”

His shadows stir, swirling anxiously around him, their whispers warning that too many eyes are upon you both. You can feel his hesitation, the unspoken question in his gaze as he searches your face.

“In front of everyone,” you confirm. Show them I’m yours, you speak into his mind, and only yours.

Azriel pauses, his chest tightening at the implication of your words. He can feel Rhysand’s presence–furious and demanding– trying to slip into his mind. No doubt trying to steer him away from this impulsive display and away from you. 

He feels the weight of the room pressing down on him—the sons of Spring and Autumn watching his every breath.

But all of that falls away when he meets your eyes again. 

There is only you in this moment.

The one who had always been able to see through his walls, the one who made him feel like the most precious thing in the room, the only one he cared about.

“Kiss me,” you whisper again.

And Azriel is not going to let you ask a third time.

Not when the light of love is shining so brightly in your eyes. His hand covers yours on his cheek, and then, he leans in, capturing your lips in a kiss that silences the room.

Whatever comes next, you’ll face it together.

a/n: It's been awhile since I wrote for Az. Miss this shadow daddy lol. Part 2 is already up 🫶🏽 you can find it here.

General tag list: @scooobies, @kennedy-brooke, @sillysillygoose444, @lilah-asteria @the-sweet-psycho

@daycourtofficial, @milswrites, @stormhearty, @pit-and-the-pen, @mybestfriendmademe

@loving-and-dreaming @azriels-human @mrsjna, @adventure-awaits13, @lorosette

fic tag: @noisyinfluencerstrawberry

[ro-is-struggling]

Secret Encounters || Geralt of Rivia x Reader

Requested by anon

Summary: They know it's wrong, but they can't deny the desire and lust that overcomes them every time they are together.

Warnings: SMUT MINORS DNI, porn with a little bit of plot (not really), fingering, penetrative sex, mirror sex, rough sex, size kink, belly bulge, breeding kink, dirty talk, mentions of cheating (reader is engaged), fem reader (she’s a princess)

English is not my first language

Word count: 3900

Notes: I promise I'll stop writing tragic princess x witcher stories after this one. Also, sorry for the shitty summary but it's only smut so it was kinda hard to come up with something lol

Geralt had never been fond of royalty, but the moment his eyes fell on hers he knew she was different. He didn't really understand why, but he felt some type of way whenever she was near. Her perfume was intoxicating, a sweet scent that lingered on his clothes and skin and accompanied him wherever he went. He could not escape her even when he wandered alone through the forest in search of the beast he had been hired to kill... not even when he was lying in his bed at night, surrounded by the darkness of the room as he tried to rest. Her scent enveloped him at all times, awakening something deep inside him. It drove him crazy, crazy enough to act on his desires. 

He knew it was wrong, it was inappropriate to take advantage of the king's hospitality like that. And she knew it was wrong too, she was a princess soon to be married, a woman of high value who had no business with a witcher like Geralt. And yet, neither seemed to be able to stay away from the other. It was as if there was some kind of energy force pulling them together, the very will of destiny imposing itself over their own. When Geralt showed up at her chambers she knew she should have turned him away. No matter how much she had been longing for him to take her in his arms and make her his, the right thing to do was to reject him and move on with her life. In fact, she had opened the door with the intention of doing exactly that, but when her eyes met the imposing figure of the witcher, towering over her as his amber eyes admired her face, she could not resist the temptation. She gave in to her desires, crashing her lips against his in a desperate kiss as she slowly pulled him into her room.

The feel of his touch lingered on her body for days, her skin permanently marked by the roughness of his caresses and the warm wetness of his mouth. The sound of his grunts of pleasure as he buried himself in her echoed in her mind at all times. He was all she could think about. She knew it was wrong, but she needed to feel his hands on her body again, exploring every inch of her skin as he showed her pleasure like no other man could.

Despite their desperation, they were able to keep their hands off each other for a while. Though all their self-control disappeared by the time of Geralt's last day in the castle. After slaying the beast —and collecting his reward— the witcher was ready to leave when the king made him an offer he couldn't resist. There would be a feast in celebration of the fall of the creature that had terrorized the town and Geralt, as their savior, was the guest of honor. He would normally have declined the offer, although the promise of free food and alcohol sounded enticing, he hated the idea of being stuck with a bunch of drunken noblemen. However, this time it gave him the perfect excuse to stay there a while longer and say goodbye to the princess the right way —the way he knew they had both been fantasizing about since their last encounter.

The party quickly turned into a game of cat and mouse, defiant yellow eyes meeting hers in the crowd, admiring her lips as she laughed and the way her body moved as she danced. She was doing it on purpose, accepting the proposals of all the knights who bowed in front of her to provoke him. She wanted to spark a reaction in him, see how far she could push him, how far she could push the boundaries of their secret relationship. The thought of being caught filled her body with adrenaline, her heart pounding so hard against her chest that he could almost hear it over the noise of the party.

She waited for the right moment and took advantage of the first distraction to escape to her bedroom. Her eyes met Geralt's before disappearing behind the side door of the great hall, her desire-laden expression a silent plea for him to follow her. She sat in front of the large mirror in her room waiting for him, removing the jewelry from her hair and combing her hair without any haste. And just as she expected, only a few minutes after her arrival, she felt the sound of the door's wood creaking as it opened. She saw Geralt lock the door behind him in the reflection of the mirror and she had to hold back the smile that wanted to form on her lips —a failed attempt to save some of her decency and not look so desperate.

"You're not supposed to be here." She said as if his presence didn't make her heart race. "It's wrong."

"That's not what you said the other night." Geralt's deep voice was music to her ears, his slightly mocking tone awakening that tingle under her skin. He walked up to her, holding her gaze in the mirror as if challenging her. He stood tall at her back, close enough that she could feel the heat emanating from his body, but not close enough to feel the brush of his hands on her skin. 

"The other night was a mistake." She affirmed, setting the comb aside. It was true, their furtive encounter, though pleasurable, had been a mistake. But they both knew well that neither really cared. The desire they felt, the tension in the air, it was all too much, it clouded their thinking leaving them at the mercy of their most primitive feelings. 

Geralt reached out his hands to her, brushing her hair aside so he could caress her skin. He noticed how she stifled a sigh through the reflection of the mirror, his warm touch awakening that flame within her. His fingers moved gently across her shoulders, up her neck until they reached her cheeks. She closed her eyes and leaned into his hand, losing herself in the moment. It felt just as she remembered it, warm and hard, yet strangely soft and comforting at the same time. It was as if his hands had never left her skin, as if his caresses were permanently carved into her body.

"Do you wish for me to leave?" he said, his voice barely a raspy whisper. He knew the answer to her question, he could read it on her face, smell it in the air, feel it in the vein in her neck that throbbed rapidly beneath his fingers. But still, he needed to be sure he was right, hear from her lips the plea for his caresses. He needed to know that she was as desperate as he was.

She didn't give him a verbal response, just rose from her seat and pressed her lips to his. Geralt's hands closed around her waist, pulling her body against his as he quickly took control of the kiss. She didn't bother fighting for dominance, acknowledging her subordination to him almost immediately. She didn't need to win, she just needed to feel his hands on her skin again, gripping and caressing every inch of her body in a rush of pleasure until the early morning sun forced them apart.

There was nothing tender and soft about the way Geralt's lips attacked hers, only lust and desperation, but she loved every part of it. She loved the way his tongue invaded her mouth and how his teeth nibbled at her lips before moving his wet kisses down her neck, sucking and biting at the skin without fear of leaving marks. He knew he could do whatever he wanted with her as she was completely at his mercy, surrendered to the pleasure only he could give her. She didn't care if she had to spend the next week finding creative ways to hide the evidence of their furtive encounter, she just needed to feel him. She wanted him to mark her, to declare ownership over her body. She knew she belonged to him, always would, even if she never saw him again after tonight.

Clothes soon became a problem, a barrier that kept them apart, so desperate hands worked carelessly to fix it. Her dress was the first to go, the expensive fabric pooling around her feet leaving her naked body completely exposed to Geralt's hungry gaze. She should have been embarrassed, but nothing but lust and anticipation pumped through her veins. He was looking at her as if she were the most beautiful and sensual woman he had ever seen, as if she were a goddess he had the privilege of pleasing. Never before had anyone looked at her in that way, so intense, so filled with adoration. She loved it, it made her feel special, powerful. 

Geralt didn't waste a second, calloused fingers caressing every inch of exposed skin. It awakened a fire inside her, a tingling that spread throughout her body, concentrating on her core. His teeth nibbled at the sensitive skin of her neck, sinking his canines into her as his hands moved down to her breasts, earning a couple of sighs from the princess as he showed attention to her nipples erect with anticipation. He smiled against her neck, proud of himself as the scent of her arousal lingered in the air. It was an intoxicating scent, the sweet forbidden fruit begging him to take it.

When his fingers slipped between her wet folds, she let out a moan of pleasure as her grip on the witcher's shoulders tightened. It was as beautiful as he remembered, a harmonious melody traveling through him and going straight to his cock. It was the sound of temptation, of lust, urging him to carry on, to forget all rules of morality and decorum and take what was his.

“P-please, Geralt.” She pleaded against his lips. Her breathing was rapid and she looked up at him through half-closed eyelids. He slipped two of his fingers inside her with ease, pushing them as deep as he could and moving them until he made her moan. She looked so beautiful like this, her eyes closed in pleasure and her parted lips releasing those beautiful desperate sighs, completely at his mercy.It was an image that would stay in Geralt's mind for quite some time. 

"I know, I know," he soothed her, his free hand coming up to caress her cheek. "I have to get you ready for me."

"I-I need to feel you, p-please." She whimpered in a pathetic, desperate attempt to get him to do what she wanted. She needed to feel all of him, his hot skin pressed against hers, his fingernails sinking into the skin of her hips as he buried his cock deep inside her, his ragged breaths in the hollow of her neck. She needed him as much as she needed the air she breathed and could wait no longer.

Thankfully he took pity on her, removing his hands from her body to unbutton his pants. She suppressed the whimper that wanted to escape her throat as she felt empty without his fingers inside her, knowing the sensation would not last for long. Geralt instructed her to turn over and her body obeyed him before she could process his words or wonder what he was up to. Her body no longer belonged to her, it belonged to him and always would.

He held her against his chest for a moment, one hand roaming her body while the other held her head steady facing forward. She could feel his hard member pressed against her lower back as his heat enveloped her completely. Their gazes met in the mirror once more and she saw the darkness of desire staining the beautiful yellow orbs. He buried his nose in her hair, inhaling her intoxicating scent before lowering his lips to her ear.

"I want you to look at yourself in the mirror as I fuck you, princess." Geralt whispered in her ear, his voice firm and slightly deeper than normal. His eyes never left hers in the mirror, studying her reaction in the reflection. "I want you to see how beautiful you look with your face scrunched up in pleasure so you'll remember it after I'm gone and your future husband can't make you feel this good."

He gave her no warning before pushing his hard cock into her tight wet hole, and he wasn't gentle either. A quick thrust of his hips and he was balls deep inside her as her velvety walls struggled to take him. Geralt was big, it was almost hard for him to fully fit inside her despite how aroused she was. But it wasn't painful, not in a bad way at least. She loved the way his cock stretched her, almost impaling her on it when it was all the way in. The burning only added to her pleasure, the knot in her belly tightening with the promise of her orgasm.

Geralt set a fast, torturous pace, earning a string of incoherent moans each time he touched that special place deep inside her. She could feel him twitching inside her as her walls closed around him, desperate to hold him in place. It was almost too much and not enough at the same time, a mixture of feelings born of her need for relief. The sound of skin slapping against skin combined with her cries of pleasure and Geralt's grunts filled the room. It was loud and she wouldn't be surprised if she discovered that someone passing through the corridor could hear them, but she didn't care. She felt too good to worry about anything else.

The pleasure she felt was so intense that she had trouble keeping her eyes open, her heavy eyelids closing involuntarily against the force of Geralt's thrusts. But each time she did, he tightened his grip on her jaw, growling in her ear for her to open them. The image reflected in the mirrored surface was too much for her to take. Her small figure wrapped in the strong arms of her lover towering over her and making her feel even smaller and more insignificant. The bulge forming in her lower belly with each thrust showed just how deep inside her Geralt was. His teeth on her neck, nibbling at the sensitive skin without taking his intense gaze away from her eyes in the mirror. And finally, her face, with parted lips letting out a string of melodious moans, and glassy eyes filled with tears that threatened to escape at the sheer intensity of what she was feeling. The expression of pure pleasure on her face was one she had never seen on her before  —and she feared that after tonight she would never see it again.

It was all too much for her, and the possessive way Geralt was acting didn't help her in the slightest. He was determined to leave a mark on her, both physically and mentally. He wanted her to see traces of him on her own skin after he was gone, but he also wanted to make sure she remembered him. Make sure she remembered the intensity of the moment and the way he had made her feel. He wanted her to think of him every time her future husband left her unsatisfied, touching herself to relieve the pressure inside her as images of him in this very moment flashed through her mind. 

He made sure to let her know his intentions between grunts of pleasure, feeling her walls close around his member with every word that left his lips. She liked it as much as he did and that only egged him on.

"Geralt, please," she begged, not quite sure of what it was she was asking of him. Please stop because the pleasure traveling through my veins is too much to bear? Please keep going and don't stop until I'm passed out from exhaustion and you've ruined me for the rest of the men? She wasn't sure, both options were equally valid.

"I know... just let go," he encouraged her, his warm breath crashing against the skin of her ear as he spoke. "Just let go for me, princess."

Her body took his words as a command and it wasn't long before the knot in her belly snapped, sending wave after wave of pleasure through her insides. Her orgasm hit her like a pile of bricks, leaving her completely stupid. Geralt's name escaped her lips like a prayer as she lost herself in pleasure. All thought left her mind, she could only feel as her lover's thrusts slowed, her body trembling in his arms from overstimulation.

She only had a couple of seconds to recover, whining as she felt empty when Geralt pulled away from her momentarily. Her legs were weak and she struggled to stand, so he took her in his arms and laid her down on the bed carefully. He settled into the space between her legs, taking a moment to admire her and caress her body before continuing. His hands ran over her warm, sweat-covered skin in an almost gentle way, an act that contrasted with the roughness of his behavior so far but was nonetheless welcomed by her.

The tenderness didn't last long, though, because once he slid his cock inside her once more, he returned to the animalistic grunts and punishing rhythm of his thrusts. This time it was more desperate and erratic, letting her know that he was close to his own orgasm. His cock twitched inside her, threatening to paint her velvety walls with his seed. The very idea was enough to have her on the edge again. 

"You feel me, princess?" He said, taking one of her hands and bringing it down to her lower belly. He pressed it against her skin, trapping it between his palm and the bulge forming there from his cock. It added a new sensation and she couldn't contain the moan that escaped her throat. "Feel how deep inside of you I am?

"Fuck," she cursed, eyes rolling back as her free hand clutched at Geralt's wrist to make sure he didn't move it off her belly. The pressure felt too good, wave after wave of pleasure coursing through her with a force that left her breathless.

"I'm the only one who gets is deep, f-fuck, the only one who makes you feel this way." He wasn't asking, it was a clear statement, but still she nodded, letting out repeated affirmations between high-pitched moans.

"I belong to you... My body is forever yours, no one will ever make me feel this good." The animalistic growl he let out at those words almost pushed her over the edge, leaving her on the verge of her second orgasm. She knew he was close too, she could feel it in his erratic thrusts and the way his cock twitched inside her. She needed to feel him come undone for her, to paint her walls white as he emptied his seed inside her. She needed him to mark her, to claim her as his own. They both knew a relationship between them was impossible, but she would always be his in secret. Her body would always miss him.

"Please, I need to feel you." She managed to say between moans and ragged breaths. "I need you to fill me up, please." She sounded pathetic at this point, but she didn't care. All she cared about was feeling Geralt's seed trickling down her thighs as she tried to catch her breath. 

The witcher groaned, a cocky smile playing on his lips. One of his hands flew to the headboard of the bed, the wood creaking under his strong grip as he adjusted his position. The new angle allowed him to reach even deeper —if that was even possible—, impaling her on his cock as she cried out in pleasure. Her nails dug into his back, leaving traces of red marks on his skin.

"You're desperate for it, aren't you?" he teased her arrogantly. "Don't worry, princess, I'm gonna shoot my seed so deep inside of you that you'll carry it for days. Is that what you want? You want me to mark you as mine? You want to feel me between your legs while you swear loyalty to your husband?"

"Yes! Fuck, Geralt, please... mark me, claim me as yours, please." 

The witcher did not expect to find it so erotic to hear her admit her deepest desires, but he did. It awakened something inside him, a primal desire that took over his body. He became an animal, a fierce, possessive wolf that was desperate for some relief. After all, that was exactly what their relationship was, pure animal instinct, pure lust and desperation. An intense attraction they couldn't resist even when they knew how wrong it was.

He came with a loud grunt, emptying his load inside her warm, tight walls. She felt every drop of it, her cunt filled to the brim with his desire for her. The intensity of his orgasm triggered hers, her body trembling under Geralt's weight, her walls tightening around his cock, milking him for everything he had. His name fell from her lips as pleasure consumed her, a prayer begging him to stay with her. He knew it was impossible, but in that moment - mind clouded with pleasure as he felt her crumbling beneath him - he really considered it. He wanted to feel her body against his again, hear the sound of her voice as she moaned his name outside of his memories. He needed her.

But that was just a fantasy, the desire for the impossible. She was a princess who was soon to be married and he was a witcher who had nothing to do with the court and royal affairs. She was not his —even if her body was— and he was not hers. And that was the hard truth. So when he came to his senses he rose from his place on the bed, where he rested with her beside him. The princess watched him as he dressed, trying to ignore the strange feeling of emptiness that came over her at the thought that once he crossed the threshold of the door she would never see him again.

"Will I ever see you again?" She asked in a whisper, as if afraid of being heard. Geralt admired her naked figure on the bed as he contemplated his answer, liking the way the dim candlelight illuminated her skin covered in a thin layer of sweat. As wrong as it was, he would really like to see her again, but the truth was he didn't know if it would happen. The future was uncertain, especially in his line of work, so to give her a straight answer would be to lie to her.

"Only time will tell."

[welikeimagines-andfandoms]

Bunny- Geralt x Reader

Summary: Geralt gets his bunny to bounce on his lap for him 😉

Word count: 766

*wanna be tagged in my next Geralt fic? Click here*

“Geralt, you need to hold still so I can fix up your cuts,” you fuss over the shirtless Witcher, straddling his large lap on the edge of the double bed.

“You are the only remedy I need, little bunny,” he smirks against your neck, emphasising the nickname by grabbing a handful of your ass and jiggling it.

“Such a sweet and soft little bunny, all for me. Are you gonna bounce for me, little bunny?” He whispers hotly against your neck, as he forces you to grind down against his hardening length.

Your attempts of bandaging him up were becoming much more difficult, as his kisses against your neck grew more hungry, and he began to pull your dress up to your hips. You let out a light gasp as your bare skin is exposed to his rough strong hands.

“No undergarments on. Naughty little bunny,” he growls against your neck as he bites down on the sensitive skin.

“Ah-Ge-Geralt,” you moan out to the Witcher, gripping at his silver locks.

“You gonna be a good little bunny for me?” He asks tauntingly as he bounces you with his thighs, causing your breasts to jiggle in his face.

“I’ll bounce for you, if you let me clean up your cuts,” you persuade as you look into his gorgeous golden eyes.

“Deal,” he simply growls as he pushes you into a hungry kiss.

The kiss is messy and heated, full of teeth and tongue as he fights and claims your mouth. In the heat of the kiss, he rips your dress down the middle, needing so badly to feel your warm skin. Not evening bothering to apologise or react to your gasp, he simply throws the now ruined dress to the ground.

Breaking from the kiss, your mind is dizzy and you’re slightly out of breath, now caught in the trance of the strong Witcher below you. Geralt only moves you slightly as he pulls down his pants only just enough to free himself.

Normally Geralt likes to take his time with you, normally spending quite some time between your legs before he either takes you or watches you bounce for him. Tonight however, Geralt was both tired and desperate, this monster hunt had taken longer than usual and he needed his prize (you) now.

Rubbing his thick fingers through your folds, he smirks as he feels and sees how wet you already are. His eyes stay fixed on your wetness, as he manoeuvres you to line up with his impressive length. His eyes are trance-like as he watches you slowly sink down onto him; only once he’s fully inside you does his burning gaze reach your eyes.

Staring at your cute fluttering eyes and parted lips, he growls with a smirk as he grabs at your thighs, squishing the soft skin under his harsh hands.

“Bounce for me, bunny, let me see how cute and fucked out my little bunny can be,” he ordered from below you.

The way he treated you so sweetly, yet still ordered you around, put your mind is a sweet and tingly place. Looking into his soft yet dominating gaze, your hips begin to grind and bounce, as your hands held onto his wrists.

Neither of you wanted to look away from the other, Geralts eyes either fixed on your sweet pleasure-filled face, or on the way your tits and thighs bounced for him.

The powerful look on Geralts face drew even more pleasure from you as you grind and bounce in his lap, his cock hitting you in all the perfect places. It wasn’t until you felt yourself reaching that perfect tingly bliss, and your fingers reach up to rub against your clit, did your eyes finally close in pleasure.

“Geralt… I-I’m cl-close,” you moan out as your other hand reaches up to pinch at your sensitive nipple.

“Cum for me, my little bunny, come on, squeeze my cock,” he growled out as his grip on your thighs tightened.

His dominating voice was all you needed before you threw your head back with a pleasure-filled scream. Feeling your walls tighten around his already sensitive cock, Geralt let out a growl as he powerfully thrusts his hips against yours.

“Gonna cum so deep in your little cunt, bunny!” He shouted, as his hips slammed against yours and he filled you up.

The room was filled with his and your heavy pants as you lay on his sweaty hairy chest. His strong hands hold you against his chest, as they lightly rub up and down your warm bare skin.

“Good little bunny.”

[blackwidownat2814]

Pairing: Tyler Owens x female reader, Tyler Owens x shy!reader, Tyler Owens x insecure!reader

Word Count: 1408

Summary: You begin your new job as a Tornado Wrangler (remotely), and meet most of the team. It isn't until you suffer a little mishap that you meet the man himself.

A/N: Thank you all so much for the wonderful response to the Prologue!!! I didn't think it'd be that much of a hit, so I was surprised with all the love. After finishing this chapter, I feel like it could've been part of the Prologue, but oh well. It's been a while since I've written as well, so bear with me. As always, thanks to my awesome beta, @buckysdollforlife, for their help with this and for creating the header for this story (I LOVE IT!!!!) and bestie, @13braincellsonly, for allowing me the use of their son's name and personality when I needed to come up with a horse. **All descriptions of Ziggy the horse were approved by his momma.** And as always, I will be cross-posting this to AO3. If you see this story anywhere besides AO3 or Tumblr, it's stolen.

City Girl Knows Her Stuff

You became a Wrangler near the end of the season that first year.  Kate picked you up at the airport with two members of the team: Lily and Dani.  Lily immediately pulled you into a hug, chatting a mile a minute about how excited she was to have you on the team.  Dani (perhaps picking up on your shyness) offered a handshake and big smile, welcoming you to Oklahoma.  Kate was more than happy to let Dani and Lily talk your ear off on the drive to Sapulpa, where you’d be staying with Cathy until you found a place.  She knew it was somewhat difficult for you to make friends, so she was happy to see you enjoying a conversation with two new friends.

You got to meet Dexter when he came by in the van to pick up Lily and Dani.  You thought he was funny and enjoyed some very science-centric conversations with him.  Before they all left, Lily let you take her drone for a spin.  You enjoyed it so much that for your birthday later that year, she gifted you a smaller drone that wasn’t quite like hers, but it had a small camera and small, tinny sounding speaker.  She even had it painted in your favorite color.  That would become one of your absolute favorite gifts.  It made you cry.

Like most storm chasers, you had to have a job in the off season, so you got a remote data analyst job with the NOAA offices in Norman and moved out to a place just out of Sapulpa.  This would allow you to visit Cathy at the farm and work on data in the barn workshop the Wranglers had set up.  You even got yourself a cat.  Abandoned due to his looks and runt status (according to the shelter), you snatched him up the first time you saw him.  Black cats didn’t scare you.  Life with Roach (you’d spent quite a bit of time watching The Witcher) was idyllic and you were happy.

By the time you met Boone, the Wranglers felt like family…and Boone felt like the brother you never had.  Like Boone, you were an only child and didn’t have much of an extended family and it was a bit lonely in the beginning.  The difference, however, was that Boone was an outgoing guy and it was easy for him to make friends and talk to people he didn’t know, whereas that scared you half to death most of the time.  You loved his boisterous way of being, but you also appreciated that he (like Dani) could tell when your social battery had run down and turned it down and would sometimes sit with you in a quiet environment.  Sometimes he’d sit and nap while you read or he’d pick up the latest meteorological article (or sometimes the latest comic he picked up at the shop).  He didn’t even make fun of your nickname like others had before, so you trusted him.

The day of Cathy’s pre-tornado season bbq, while cleaning some dishes, you confessed to Boone that you were nervous about meeting the head tornado wrangler himself, Tyler Owens.

“T’s a sweetheart B, you got nothin’ to worry about.  Why are ya nervous?”

“Boone!  He doesn’t know me, what if he doesn’t think I’m a right fit for the team?  What if he doesn’t like how I do work?  Y’all are famous ‘round here, what if he gets irked by the fact that big crowds make me nervous and it takes me forever to become comfortable with people?  You know it’s not easy for me to talk to people I’ve never talked to before”, you cried in exasperation.

“B, imma need you to take a breath, okay?” Boone reassured you as he placed his hands on your shoulders.  “If Ty thought any of those things, I would definitely not be workin’ with ‘em.”

You were so busy trying to get yourself to relax that you missed Kate wandering into the kitchen.

“B, are you freakin’ out about meetin’ Tyler again?” she asked.  You and Boone nodded.  “Well, you don’t have to worry.  He won’t be able to come today, said he had to drive down to Texas to see his parents.”

You breathed out a sigh of relief, sending some of your hair floating up.  “Good, I have time to relax about it.  Thanks Kate.”

“Thank Tyler’s parents.”

“Thank you, Mr. & Mrs. Owens!” you said to no one in particular and dried your hands, as you looked over at your friends.  “See you two out there!”

Kate and Boone followed, but stayed on the porch, both taking twin sips from their beers.

“You think either of them has any idea what’s about to happen to ‘em?” Boone asked.

“Meaning that Tyler is going to become enamored the second she opens her mouth?”

“Yup.”

“And that she’s going to have the same thing happen to her the second she comes into contact with that cocky cowboy swagger that he exudes when you meet him the first time?”

“Yup.”

“No, I don’t think either of ‘em knows what’s coming.”

A few days before the chasing season began, you brought Roach down to Cathy’s, where he would be staying while you were out with the Wranglers for your first season on the road.  

While there, you asked Cathy if you could saddle up your favorite of her horses, Zig, nicknamed Ziggy.  He wasn’t the brightest of the bunch; he was the type of horse you’d see in a video because someone thought he was dead but in actuality, he was just sleeping.  You swore that his mother, a horse named KJ, rolled her horse eyes every time someone caught him playing dead.

Ziggy may not have been the sharpest pitchfork in the barn, and may not have enjoyed doing much of anything besides looking dead when he slept, but he enjoyed riding through fields with you.  He knew whenever he saw you approaching with a bowl that he was about to get one of his favorite snacks: ice cubes with apple bits in them.  You put Ziggy’s snack bucket down so he could munch while you brushed him and got him saddled and ready to go for a ride.

When Ziggy let you know that he was done with his snack, you popped in your earbuds and shuffled your favorite classical music playlist on Spotify.  You found it was one of your favorite ways to relax.  After you climbed on Ziggy’s back, and kicked him into gear, you took off for the open fields near the road leading up to the farm.

You’d been out there for a while when you started hearing the faint rumble of an engine, but ignored it because trucks passed near this area all the time.  You probably shouldn’t have ignored it though, because when that modified-to-withstand-tornadoes red Dodge Ram 3500 turned on to the road and took off towards the main house, Ziggy took off after it.  By now, you shouldn’t have been surprised that he recognized the truck or the person in it, but you were…and because you were so thrown off by it, your hands (stupidly) had not been holding the reins.  And because you had not held on, you went flying off Ziggy’s back while he just followed the familiar truck.  Lucky for you, the fall didn’t cause you to go unconscious, but it did knock the wind out of you after you landed hard on your back.

As you attempted to take deep breaths, you heard someone yelling and running towards you, so you tried to sit up.  The voice yelled for you to not move, so you listened and stayed on the ground, with your eyes shut.  You just lay there, waiting.

All of a sudden:

“Are you okay?” the voice asked.  You knew that you knew who the voice belonged to but you were so thrown by being thrown that your brain wasn’t focusing.  You blinked your eyes open, and your vision swam before focusing on the most beautiful face.

“Wha-”

“Are you okay, darlin’?” he asked as he helped you sit up.

“Uh…”

“Did you black out?”

“No.”

“Do you know where you are?”

“Cathy’s farm, in Sapulpa.”

“Do you know your name?”  He smiled when you told him.  “Where’d you come in from?”

“New York City.”

“Why are you here?”

“I’m the new data analyst for the Wranglers.”

“Well…looks like we got another city girl that knows her stuff.”

Tagging: @ladybirdbeetle7 @omgbrianab @itsdesiree86 @avengersfan25 @keyrani @thedonswife13 @lonelyghosts-stuff

DON'T FORGET TO LIKE AND REBLOG!!!!

Main Masterlist

[navybrat817]

Smartie: would you love me even if I were a gecko?

Stud: I would find a Witcher and make him turn me into a gecko and this would be us: https://vm.tiktok.com/ZMMVoXtHD/

BAHAHA. Nonnie, I burst out laughing watching this and reading the comments.

Like Animals

Pairing: Roommate!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader Summary: You ask Bucky an "important" question and he gives you a thorough answer. Word Count: Over 1.2k Warnings: Humor, fluff, implied explicit sexual content, inner monologue, TikTok video, pet names, established relationship, feels (it's me), Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?). Apologies to geckos. A/N: Some Stud and Smartie for your Tuesday. Had to do it, @whisperlullaby and @targaryenvampireslayer! ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

A smile pulled at your lips when you saw Bucky relaxed in his chair, engrossed in his newest book. Soot and Alpine cuddled up together nearby, both letting your man have some peace as he read. Naturally, it was the perfect time to interrupt him. Because you had a very important question for him.

One that would shape the future of your relationship.

He’ll understand why I bothered him.

“Hey, Stud?” You asked as you took a seat on the sofa, his steel eyes peering up from the pages to gaze at you. Your heart would always skip a beat from that look. “I have something very important to ask you.”

He put his bookmark in to give you his undivided attention. “What’s up? Is it about the wedding?”

“No,” you smiled. You were aware that some men didn’t care about wedding planning, but Bucky was. He wanted it to be the perfect day for you. “But the question is kind of related to love and our relationship.”

His brows furrowed when you didn’t elaborate. “Okay. What’s the question?”

You inhaled and exhaled slowly. “Would you still love me if I turned into an animal?”

Bucky blinked once. Twice. The corner of his mouth twitched, but he didn’t smile or laugh. “An animal? What kind of animal?”

You huffed when he didn’t immediately say “yes”. That should’ve been his answer. “I don’t know! A gecko! Yeah. A gecko.”

I have to keep a straight face.

Amusement sparkled in his eyes, but he still tried to remain as stoic as he could. “A gecko? Why a gecko?”

“Because geckos are cool!” You replied, close to bursting out laughing at the absurdity of the questioning and logic. But wasn’t part of the fun of having a partner being able to discuss stuff like this? “They can climb walls, can live a long time, they make great pets-”

“You wanna be my pet, Smartie?” Bucky asked, his voice dropping an octave.

Yes.

“You’re…” you sighed when he ran his tongue along his lips. He was a sexy bastard and you would soon call him your husband. “You’re distracting me. Answer the question, please.”

“So, that’s a yes,” he smirked, pushing his hair back and causing you to stare a bit again. “You’re asking me if you were a gecko, would I still love you?”

“Yes,” you said, rolling your eyes to try and play it off as something silly. Which it was. “Would you love me even if I were a gecko?”

Bucky set the book on the table before he moved from his chair to the couch. Your heart raced when he took your left hand and kissed over your engagement ring. “Smartie. Doll. Baby. Love of my life, of course, I would,” he said, your cheeks warm when he smiled at you. “In fact, I would find a Witcher and make him turn me into a gecko so we could be together properly.”

Right answer, Stud.

“You would?”

“I would,” he promised, pressing his forehead to yours. “I don’t want to exist in a world where we can’t be together.”

Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry.

“I don’t either,” you whispered, your heart full. “And no matter what, human, gecko, anything, I’m your Smartie and you’re my Stud.”

You knew if tomorrow you woke up as some different version of you, he’d love you. If someone tried to separate you, he’d find a way to get you back. He was your soulmate. You had the whole world because of him.

“Damn right,” he whispered, brushing his lips against yours before he pulled away. “Besides, if I ever found that Witcher, this would be us.”

…What?

“What would be us? I’m confused,” you said as he took out his phone and pulled up a video, cuddling close to you could both see the screen. “What is this?”

Bucky gently shushed you as he turned up the volume. “Just watch.”

You tilted your head as a rock came into view. “What are you showing me?” You questioned before your eyes went wide. Bucky’s arm over shoulders shook as he started chuckling. “Are those geckos fucking?!”

The decibel of your voice made the cats raise their heads, but they didn’t move since you weren’t in any sort of danger. “Yeah, they are,” your fiancé laughed. “Geckos in their semi-natural habitat.”

This wasn’t on my BINGO card for the year.

“Why do you have this?!” You asked, turning to look at him. “Wait, when did you start using TikTok?! Is this on your FYP? Is this a new kink you haven’t told me about? Because that’s a whole other conversation.”

He threw his head back and you couldn’t help but laugh with him. “You’re missing it.”

“Yeah, because gecko porn was the thing I was missing in my life. Everything makes sense now,” you teased, gesturing to the screen. “And, by the way, that’ll never be us.”

Bucky’s laughter came up short and, for a moment, sadness flickered in his eyes. “I thought you said we’d be together if we were geckos.”

“We would be,” you assured him, seeing happiness all over his face once again. “But look. He’s doing all the work and she looks bored as hell. That’s not me and that’s not our sex life.”

“So, I fuck you better?” He teased you.

Duh.

Whatever kind of sex you had before you met Bucky didn’t even count to you. He ruined you so thoroughly that you didn’t even remember the first guy you kissed. It was as if he erased all other guys from your mind.

Love was a powerful thing and Bucky had it in abundance.

“Yes, so much better. I mean, come on, she looks like she’s thinking, ‘Did I leave the stove on?’”

The brunette burst out laughing all over again.

I love that sound.

“Seriously! I would never just be still like that and you know it. There’s a difference between being a pillow princess and a dead fish,” You smiled, cuddling closer so you could feel his chest rumble beneath your hand. “And just for making me look at that, I want you to try and keep a straight face the next time we have sex.”

“What? That’s not fair,” he groaned, making you shriek when he suddenly laid you out on the sofa, his phone forgotten. “I can’t keep a straight face when I’m inside you. Your pussy feels too good for that.”

He always looks gorgeous when he slides into me.

“So does your cock. I don’t think I could look bored if I tried,” you agreed, raising an eyebrow when he moved on top of you. “But seriously, how is it that you just happened to have that video when I asked about us being geckos? You didn’t know I was going to ask you that.”

He grasped your chin to give you a thorough kiss, the kind that drove every sane thought from your mind. “I guess the two of us are just in sync,” he said.

“I guess we are,” you smiled. “But no more gecko porn today, okay?”

“Okay,” he smirked down at you. “But I will fuck you like an animal.”

True to his word, that was exactly what he did.

Oh, I adore them. 🥰 Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[notyetneedcoffee]

Stretch

Kinktober - Size Kink NSFW - Adults Only

Summary - The Witcher is just so big.

“I’m surprised to see you here.” You smiled up at the Witcher. “Particularly tonight.”

“Hmm.” He rumbled, though you noted his golden eyes kept darting down to you.

Standing close to him and wearing stays that held your breasts high, gave him a particularly enticing view. You knew how to take advantage of your small stature when it came to men. This man, however, was always a challenge.

People milled around the hall dressed in their finest. A large fire blazed in the hearth and musicians played. No one danced. This gathering was not that kind of celebration.

Some people considered the Trades Celebration archaic. The villages in these mountains, being isolated and small, would gather once every ten years. Some of the men and women would bed others from other villages to diversify the bloodlines of each isolated area. As the main objective of the celebration was pregnancy, a famously sterile Witcher seemed decidedly out of place.

“I could say the same for you.” Geralt finally said. “I would not have expected you to be anxious to become a mother.”

“I’m not.” You leaned a little closer to him to speak conspiratorially. “But there are great business contacts to be made here.”

He nodded. You were a herbologist. He often sought you out for rare and valuable ingredients.

“What brought you here?”

“Bruxa.” Geralt frowned. “After I cleared them out, I was offered a place to stay for a time and asked to attend tonight by Marthox.”

You grinned, glancing at the rich village elder and his four daughters. “Do you think he’s ignorant to the fact that you are unable to pass on your magnificent genes?”

“Probably.” He took a long drink from his glass.

“Do you plan to deflower one – or all – of his willing daughters anyway?”

“No.” He leaned down to your ear. The top of your head only came to his shoulder. “I’m more interested in something a little more feisty.”

“Then why are we wasting time here?” You grinned.

Geralt just turned and marched out of the hall. You had to jog to keep up with him. As soon as you turned the corner into a dark hallway, the Witcher paused. He swept you up and tossed you over one shoulder.

You swallowed a squeak, grabbing the back of his jacket out of fear of the height. “Geralt!”

“You were moving too slow.” He chuckled.

His room boasted its own large fireplace, stone bathing tub, and soft bed. You bounced in the middle of the mattress when he tossed you down. Geralt grabbed your foot to unlace your shoes. Laying there, looking at your foot in his large hands, feeling his strong fingers rub into the arch of your foot, lit the fire in your belly.

Geralt placed a knee on the bed and leaned over you. His white hair fell forward and you could smell the mead upon his breath. “It’s good to see you, little one.”

You touched his face, running your fingers over his high cheek bones and strong jaw. When you skimmed the soft skin of his lips, he lowered his head and kissed you. Your tongue eagerly reached for his as the kiss grew rough.

Geralt broke away with a satisfied noise. He gathered your skirts in his hands, lifting them to your waist. Your legs instinctively fell open for him as his rough hands slid along your thighs. As his thick finger teased your opening, rubbed around your clitoris, awakening your arousal, you laid your head back and studied his looming form.

You adored the time spent with the Witcher in bed. You felt tiny, delicate, and feminine under his touch. He exuded power. His strength could take your breath away, but you never feared he would hurt you. His wide chest engulfed you. His thick thighs pushed your legs so far apart.

Geralt’s head lowered between your legs, tasting your sex, licking and sucking at your clit. Fire circled through your body. You needed more. Pulling at the laces of your bodice, you desperately fought to free yourself from your clothes. Geralt manhandled you around, tugging at skirts and throwing away underclothes. Once naked, he again buried his face in your cunt with a determined growl.

You pulled at his white hair, shaking as his grumble vibrated through your clitoris. Two thick fingers slipped through your wetness, spreading your slick, pumping against sensitive flesh, and stretching you. Deep moans poured from your mouth as your hips rocked into his face.

Geralt rose to his knees, rubbing at your clit and fingers pumping wetly in your cunt. Your back arched as the coiling tension threatened to snap. The corner of his lip curled up. His gravel deep voice poured over you like warm honey. “That’s it, little one. Come all over my hand and I’ll stretch this pretty little pussy over my cock.”

You shook, cunt clenching at his fingers, wetness flooding over his hands.

As you lay there feeling your thighs quiver, Geralt stripped off his clothes. He did so with efficiency and no attempt at seduction, still the flex of his muscles and sight of his hard flesh caused the fire to flared hotter.

Geralt crawl over the top of you, mouth covering your breast and sucking your nipple to a hard peak. His kisses trailed up your neck, teeth grazing your skin. Kissing you, allowing you to taste yourself on his tongue, he pushed your legs further apart with his knees.

You felt the wide head of his cock rub along your entrance. With immense control, he pushed in. The stretch bordered on pain, but under assault of his kiss, breathing in the scent of sweat and sex, your body rocked up against him to invite him deeper. Rocking slowly, each thrust pushing him further, filling you. Heat burned down your chest to settle between your legs.

He sat back on his heels, pulling your body along with him. You cried out at the change of angle, his cock hitting just the right spot. Your legs wrapped around his waist. Memorized you watched Geralt allow a drop of spittle to fall up on your clit. His thumb circled and stroked as he fucked into you harder.  

You moaned, back arching and hands clutching at the sheets.

“Fuck,” He growled. “Fuck, yes.”

You shook in his grip.

“Mmm.” Geralt’s hips moved faster, harder. “Again. Fuck. Come again.”

You squeezed your own tits. Geralt moaned. Your thighs quivered. You panted, breath escaping with each thrust. “Oh, gods!”

His fingers dug into your hips. He lifted your pelvis to meet each powerful thrust. Fucking you hard. You felt like you were being blissfully split into two. He growled. “I said fucking come for me.”

“Yes!” You snapped, shaking hard, whiting out.

Faster, rougher, and soon Geralt roared his own release.

He flopped back on the bed, pulling you along with him. You lay spread across his chest, a sated and boneless mass. No part of you touched the bed. You floated on a warm island of Geralt muscle. You rubbed your nose into the hair on his chest, breathing in his scent.

“Hmmm.” He sighed, one big hand coming up to rest on your ass. “Did I hurt you?”

“No.” You mumbled with a smile. “But I can’t feel my feet.”

“I’ll carry you if I need to.” The smile could be heard in his voice. “Cause I’m not through with you yet, little one.”

Want more? Check out my Master List.

[flusteredtuna]

Focus On The Target

Geralt of Rivia x !fem! Witcher Reader

Words: 3k+

Warnings: ( 18+ Mature Only ) Choking, Finishing inside, fingering, riding,

Summary: After months of tension, a visit to his bedroom sparks something that was a long time coming.

“Focus on the Target.”

Geralt of Rivia was a Witcher to be reckoned with. His hard exterior is thicker than bone and rock. It’s just the way he has to be, to be able to fight those dreadfully awful monsters.

He took you under his protection initially a handful of months ago, when he found you lost in the forest. A lost and broken female Witcher. It was no law of surprise but you both found yourself inseparable. And with every foe you both have crossed, you have insisted that you can fend for yourself. It’s hard for you to resist being stubborn about it since you were both around the same age and once wielded power like his.

Today, he finally decided to teach you the trade of combat. Since you never learned under prior “guardianship”. For, there would be a point where you would lose at your attempt to get involved.

Your leather boots squelch into the terrain below as you pull your arm in with blade in hand. The slight breeze that carries sprinkles of rain falls into the bay of your parted lip. You swing the throwing knife at the target ahead, hearing it whisper its sharpness in the air as it flies. The knife thuds on the ground, refusing to stick into the wooden target.

“Your grip is key.” He places another blade in your hand gripping your fingers tightly around it to show you how hard you should hold it. “The angle you throw should follow your arm’s aim…” Looking over at him, watching his yellow eyes flicker as he focuses on your training, you admire his strong features. His husky jaw and broad shoulders. The way his hair looks like beds of fallen snow and soot, with a strand falling next to his furrowy brows. More than a handsome man, but a damn good-looking one.

“Just inhale deeply and let it go as you throw. Just like the bow and arrow.” You nod “I understand”.

You spin your head back toward the target that is nailed to the wide tree, narrowing your eyes. Throwing again you manage to make it stick, but not in the center.

“Better,” His voice sounds full of gravel. But it’s deep enough to be alluring.

You’ve been attracted to his presence since you met him. And he’s felt the same about you. There have been many times when hands graze, tension fogs a room, and sometimes your lips almost meet during the fading of dusk. Your hearts were more than friends, but you both never mentioned any sort of lust, when it fluttered in the air. You both just let it pass by for some unknown reason. I mean, how could you turn down a man so protective and valiant as him?

“Remember to take your time, the ease will keep you in line with your target.” He gets closer to you guiding your arm with his hand, “When the knife leaves your hand, you want to be aiming higher than the target.” Shifting your eyes from him back to the target, just to get a sense of how close he is. You inhale deeply, letting it all fly away with the throw of the next knife.

Geralt is impressed and nods. “Good, very good.” He hands you another knife. “Again.” His dominating tone makes him all the more attractive.

Continuing to practice, you make a good improvement. Even with the distractions of him looming over you, or showing you how to hold the blade correctly. Not to mention the exchange of glances here and there that feel so seductive. But his expressions are always too cold to tell half the time.

You practice until the sun begins setting in the sky. He plucks the last knives out from the spiral wooden target. “You did well.” As you move toward him he turns around to take the last two from your hand. “I believe I’ve made quite the improvement on the path to proving you wrong, Geralt.” His response is a huff. The closest thing you’ll get to a chuckle from him.

“We should get back inside before it turns dark.” He looks at you, “Get some food and rest”.

You both make your way back to the tall house you’ve decided to reside at for the month. It’s tall and made of cobble. Wide and large, but not as large as a mansion. It’s just more than enough space. The mossy stone is gorgeous with the way the golden light showers its surface.

After eating a sufficient meal you decide to head to the bath. Geralt leaves you to clean up and relax, as you’ve earned it. The bathroom is just as homey yet grand as the house itself. A large sunken smooth stone tub, with buckets and candles around it. Cloth to wash and dry with as well. You undress from your robes, covered in mud and grass stains. Slipping every item off with ease as your breath deepens in relaxation.

The bath is warm as you step in, one leg at a time, then sit on the inner step of the tub. The cuts on your knuckles sting as they meet the water. Training did not only involve throwing knives but it involved throwing punches. Some against hardwood.

Although you are exposed, you feel safe, finding peace within the subtle darkness of the room. You steep in the tub for a while, taking your time cleaning yourself. Tilting your head back and closing your eyes, you soak and relax further.

So relaxed you are reluctant to hear the door creek open. “Oh uhm.” That coarse voice makes you shoot your eyes open to find Geralt standing there. You catch him looking at your wet and free breasts, so beautiful as they glisten from candlelight. He quickly turns away, “Sorry I thought you had finished.” The last word echoes in your head. Finished. The interaction makes you grin. He’s felt the breast he sees before him yet he has trouble looking out of respect for your current nature.

“Not yet.” You tease and play with his words and smirk, looking him up and down. You wouldn’t mind if he were to look again. Maybe come over and join you. “I’m almost done. Unless you want to join me.”

Geralt nods and moves closer, refusing to look anywhere in your direction. You’re surprised he decided to join you, but you guess he just thought it was best to not waste warm water. “I cannot stay for long. I have tasks that need my attention later tonight”. He finally meets your eyes but doesn’t explore anywhere else.

“Well, There’s plenty of warm bath.” You gesture to the other side of the large tub. It’s spacious enough to fit four people. He starts to take off his ragged dark clothes of the day and steps into the bath, only leaving on his medallion. His body was covered in those familiar scars he lets you ask about. He sinks into the tub, and you watch him out of the corner of your eye, wanting to pay the same respect to him as he did to you.

He seems very at ease in the pool as if everything else is just white noise. He closes his eyes and sighs as if he were waiting for this moment of relaxation. The water blurs everything beneath the surface as it ripples, and you watch the water as it waves.

“So what does the night feature for you tonight? You said you have tasks.” Your eyes meet his. Geralt seems to think for a moment, the water lapping the sides of the pool. “Nothing too serious. Need to deliver a Kikimora leg to an alchemist in town.”

His voice is comforting and relaxing. He has a lot of experience with monsters, so it’s quite natural for him to speak of them so calmly. “I’ll be back in the early hours of the morning.”

“Then you should take your time now before you face another creature.” You grab a sponge and hand it to him. Your hands touch on accident, as they tend to do, and he takes the sponge. “Thank you.” It glides over his muscular arms and chest, and you can’t help but watch him a bit. He groans and it makes you squirm your legs a bit. As the noise would be lovely in another situation.

You let a few strained minutes of stubborn sexual tension pass before you notice how pruned your fingers are. “I’m headed to my chambers, I’m in dire need of my beauty rest.” You grab a towel and start to emerge from the bath. "I look forward to seeing your beauty upon rising.” He turns his face away and remains silent after this, seeming to restrain any further comment on your naked figure before him.

You dry yourself as much as you can before wrapping yourself in the warm towel. Starting to walk out of the room, you turn your head back to meet his eyes again.

“Goodnight, Geralt. And good luck” You smile and turn to walk away closing the door behind you, just hoping he makes it back as unharmed as possible.

-

-

-

You wake up in sheer terror, gasping for breath, clinging a hand to your heart, and feeling your pulse race a little faster than usual. It was another nightmare. One that was rare these nights. You sweep your curly locks out of your face and try to gather yourself. Maybe turning on a light or two would help.

The terrors fade a bit from your memory as you cool down, trying to observe the room to distract you. It must be late in the evening, creeping into early morning as it is still dark out the window beside your bed. He must be back by now, he has to be.

You throw your blankets open and slip out of bed, still wobbly from your slumber. With slightly heavy feet, you make your way out into the hall with candle in hand. The silence of the house is accompanied by the creek of the floorboards and the wind faintly hitting the window at the end of the hall. There is no glow from the outside seeping through the window like there is in the winter. Just darkness and shadows of your surroundings bathe around you and your candlelight.

As you carefully make your way down the hall, refraining from making as much noise as possible, you reach his door. You stand in front of the mahogany and iron, deciding if you should bother his sleep he so well deserved. Although you now desired more than one form of comfort.

Taking a deep breath, you nudge the door with your knuckles just enough to see and peek in. The door’s hinges creak quietly as it moves open a sliver.

You find that his bed is made, and he is not there. A strange discovery as you knew he’d be back in the early hours of the morning.

“Y/N.” A large warm hand lands on your shoulder and you gasp. “What are you doing up?” His hot breath lingers on your neck. You turn to face him, candle at your side. He’s a little cleaner than usual with a few small scratches on his face and his garbs and armor rugged from combat.

“I could ask you the same question.” His eyes glued to you as he takes your candle and sets it on the hallway’s table beside him.

“I am well within my reason. You should be in bed.” He wasn’t wrong about either. But it’s hard to sleep when the best comfort is supposed to be in the other room. Now it faces you.

Taking the pad of your thumb, you swipe his cheek and ignore his scolding. “Didn’t get too beat up, I hope.” He holds your hand in place and closes his eyes for a moment, taking in your palm. Then meeting his eyes with yours again, he lets go of the grasp and lets your hand fall.

“All went well indeed.” He moves a step closer to you backing you up against the wall.

“Now. I will ask you again. What are you doing up?” His voice makes you shiver with how low it is. Although it’s an intimidating tone, you find it protective.

“I’m safe and sound aren’t I? Why does it matter.” You try to throw your attitude at him to show he has no control over you.

“Because. You tend to linger by my bedpost when you’ve had a night terror.” He’s not wrong. You would come to him when it was unbearable because he was the only company you knew to turn to. You stay quiet with a tough look on your face, and he clearly reads you like a book.

He takes a step forward and as a result, you are pinned to the wall between his door and the table with the candle lit. “Or are your intentions…” Leaning in, he puts a hand on the wall right over your shoulder. Another attempt at protective imitation. “More seductive?”

“Perhaps a bit of both…” You analyze all his features, letting your eyes wander. “Perhaps…” You move a smidge closer to him, breath upon breath, “more seductive intentions.”

He doesn’t even let you catch your breath before taking a firm hand to your hip and locking lips with you. The kiss is filled with a feverous passion that makes you ache for more. You reach for his face again, pulling him closer, while you put another hand on his chest starting to unbuckle his armor at the sides.

This felt different than the other moments when you’re lips met each other. This felt like it was going to lead somewhere more permanent. It was rougher and made you more in need of his touch. His chest piece falls to the floor while he works on taking the others off, throwing it to the side. Geralt was now easier to feel, with fewer clothes to shield him from your touch.

In a swift motion, he grabs you by your thighs and picks you up, pressing you into the wall while your legs wrap around him. Tongues interlacing in a dance, swirling.

As you both pull away, your lips burn with sensation. He huffs into your mouth and presses his temple to yours, swinging you around and taking you to his bed. His grip on your ass as you travel is firm.

His room is almost as humble as his, but his bed is just as handsome. The headboard is stained Mahogany with carved features of trees and animals. And the canopy drapes over the bedposts, making it a cozy resting place.

He plops you down onto the edge of the end of the bed and starts to loom over you again. Leaning in to kiss you once more, you scoot backward. Making him work for it. “Catch me if you can, White Wolf.” You make sure to annunciate the name, just to tease him further. Every quick move you make back, he advances. Until you hit the headboard, letting him have his way with you.

The kiss again is tender and filled to the brim with passion. He grabs your wrist pinning it above you as he starts to kiss down your jaw, then your throat, until he hits your night dress. A thin white gown made from cotton cloth that comfortably drapes your body. He sits up, staring down at you for a second.

“I’ll get you a new dress.” He grabs the opening right above your breasts and tears it open, turning the garment into mere scraps of fabric. And just as he found you in the bathing room, you are exposed to him yet again.

He takes you in, being so mindful of every hill and plain on your body. It looks like he’s mapping you out for a plan of sensual attack. He murmurs low at the sight of you, and a hint of a smile appears on his face.

Your knees are bent, stuck together, while your heels lay far apart. With his medallion dangling, he takes a hand from your stomach and glides his calloused palm down your side. He sweeps under to grab your ass, releasing his grip to then move to your thighs. Trailing up his hands meet your knees, and he moves them apart. Opening you.

As his hand moves, his eyes follow to meet the center of your opened legs. His treasure. His reward to reap. He dances his fingers to your inner thigh, closer and closer to your center.

“Am I to watch as you dangle satisfaction above my head.” You say softly while your breath hitches with every change in touch. “Mm-hmm.” He nods as he finally reaches your clit making slow circles. You gasp and arch as his touch consumes your entire being shooting pleasure up every vertebrae.

Leaning in closer, he grabs your face sternly with control and kisses you again. The sensation fills you with desire. He then fills you again but with his fingers. Not rushing but not hesitating either. In and out, he pushes again and again. Although this fills you with more than mere lust, you want to show him how you can overcome his territory.

You push against his chest with a hand and he follows the motion sitting up with you and slipping his fingers out. He might be dominating but he’d do anything for a beautiful creature such as yourself. As he’s up you sit on your knees before him and begin unbuttoning his shirt.

Stopping only four buttons down you look into his eyes with mischief in mind. You tear open his shirt the same way he did to your dress. Taking his medallion in your hands you pull on it just enough so his lips are once again close to yours. “I’ll get you a new one”. You smirk at him and his hint of a smile grows a little larger from your playfulness.

You unlatch the buckle on his pants and push him back onto the mattress. It was your turn to be the cat climbing over him.

As your breasts dangle in his face he starts to take his trousers off. You stop him and do it yourself, throwing them on the floor. Now he’s just as vulnerable as you.

Starting from his ankles you prowl your way to his hardness.

Within your grasp, it is firm and thick. Only growing thicker as your breasts hang in his face again. This throat purs with his low-toned vibrations making you chuckle. Lifting his head, he places his mouth on your breast while placing a hand on your waist. This leaves your entrance to hover over his cock in your hands. A tease for you both as you continue to move your hand up and down his shaft while his tip kisses your wetness.

Moaning and humming, you both stay here in this series of actions. But he desires more of you. Moving his mouth away from your breast, he places both of his hands on your waist. “I trust you remember our horseback lesson, yes?” He says looking at you.

Your grin is naughty after he says this. With his permission you slide onto his mass, stretching you, while he guides you with his grip on your hips. His length fills you and you struggle to look at him straight. It’s just too large to handle without going slow.

Now that you’re sitting upon him, you start to ride. Just like he taught you. Starting slow you bounce up and down letting your hair hang in front of your face. The pleasure is too much to bear with eyes open. Grabbing your face again he says “Look up, darling”.

His grip tilts your head up to face a mirror you failed to notice at the other end of the room, facing right at you. You also fail to continue to ride him, now distracted by the surprise of your reflection. With your hips now hovering, he gives you another surprise and starts to thrust into you. You start to close your eyes again as your face scrunches in pleasure.

“Keep watching.” He tightens his grip on your face as moans continue to escape your mouth. And you watch as he fucks you. He frees his hand on your hip for a moment to smack your ass as it creates a tantalizing sting, leaving your cheek red. He watches as you watch your reflection jolt up and down from his thrusts. Moving his hand down to your throat, he flirtatiously chokes you, while he arches his head back to watch the mirror with you.

Reaching a hand to hold his arm that has a grasp on your throat, he finally lets you throw your head back as you grow tighter around him. “Gods…” You exclaim. “You feel…so…fuck”. He chuckles low at you and starts to thrust at a faster pace.

As you both get closer to ecstasy his hands move back to your hips, and you bow down to meet his temple. Moaning into each other’s mouths, the sensation of your parts meeting is what the afterlife should feel like. It’s more than safe to say that this is the furthest you’ve taken each other than ever before.

Your temples continue to meet as he trusts, and your grip on his shoulders tightens as you feel yourself pulse around him. Holding you close his movements get tighter and tighter. Until finally, a rush of sensation washes over you and within you, as he finishes as well.

Slowing down, sweat drips from your brow. He lets you feel him twitch inside you before lifting you by your hips while you gasp at the release of fulfillment. You feel the mixture of fluid drip down your inner thigh, a satisfying tickle.

You both try to catch your breaths lying on his chest. As your hand lays on his heart you feel his body rise and fall with each breath. It’s so calming here, even if your legs already feel sore. He puts a hand on your back to soothe you.

“Feeling better?” He asks. You realize that you had forgotten the original intention of lingering at his door. “I am feeling…” Sitting up you look into his eyes, tucking a piece of hair away from his face. “Magnificent.” A well-earned and rare smile appears on his face as he looks into your eyes. You feel proud to know you made The Witcher smile for once.

[inexplicifics]

I'm thoroughly intrigued by G/J whipping boy warlord AU, and I also love outsider POV's so maybe L/M outsider POV too if you're feeling extra generous?

And for the heck of it, can you add Buffalo, NY to the map? So much love to literally everything you write!!!

Sure, have a little more whipping boy!

“Mm,” the scarred witcher says, and glances at the old one, who nods. “Then I am sure you will be pleased to assist our older trainees in learning courtly swordsmanship.” Lord Antos looks pleased. Julian has the sneaking suspicion that isn’t nearly the honor Lord Antos clearly thinks it is. “Right then,” the scarred witcher says. “You two ladies come with me, and we’ll talk to Jan. You,” to Lord Antos, “can go with Vesemir. And you can stay here and discuss things with Geralt and Yennefer.” By which Julian is able to deduce that the old witcher must be Vesemir, and the sorceress Yennefer, which means that the Warlord of the North, the White Wolf feared across the continent, is - Is named Geralt?

Here's a snippet of the outsider POV, which is some variety of modern AU:

She’s chatting with one of the other receptionists near the drinks table when Lambert and his wife arrive. The wife is an entire head shorter than Lambert is, and at least a hundred pounds lighter, with long sleek dark hair pulled back in an elegant braid and absolutely perfect natural makeup emphasizing big dark eyes and delicate features. She’s wearing a blue sundress and elegant strappy sandals. She looks like a porcelain doll; she has one hand tucked into the crook of Lambert’s elbow, and the discrepancy between the two of them is absolutely mind-boggling. And Lambert - rough, crude, hot-tempered Lambert - is looking at her like she hung the moon. He escorts her over to the drinks like a knight in a stage play, glances over the offerings, and says, “Oh, hey, they’ve got that fizzy stuff you like.” “So they do,” the wife agrees, in a soft sweet voice, and takes a can of sparkling lemon water; Lambert, naturally, takes a beer. Emily knows for a fact, because she ordered the catering, that Lambert specifically requested the sparkling lemon water. She noted it at the time because it seemed so out of character.

And finally, hello in Buffalo! Hope you're staying warm!

[geraskierfanficprompts]

Prompt 118

Inspired by this post I saw! <3 Geralt likes his bard. Roach likes her bard. Geralt and Roach like their bard. So Geralt and Roach have been working together on tricks and commands meant specifically for Jaskier. Roach knows how to kneel for Jaskier to mount her, and she also knows how to boost him up if he's in a hurry. She now knows the command "Get Jaskier away to safety!", though in order to save some face, Geralt made the command a certain click of his tongue, instead of the words that might reveal too much feelings. She knows how to hug a sad Jaskier if her witcher is incapacitated or away. She knows how to drag him to the bags full of food when he's been writing too long. She knows to bump her head into his, affectionately, when he stares at his reflection too long. She knows how to carefully move the lute out of harm's way. She knows how to pull on certain fabrics with the right leverage to not have them rip. She knows which flowers she shouldn't eat, for it'll make the bard happy when he sees them. He'll usually give them to her after he gushes over their beauty, anyway. Win/win for her. Everything is foolproof. That is, until Jaskier asks Geralt one day what one of her special tricks were for. Geralt had to stumble and fumble his way through an excuse. And then Jaskier asked again a few days later, this time about another trick. And then again. He's getting curiouser and curiouser, and Geralt has never been good at lying to their bard.

[companionjones]

Enemies to Lovers?

Pairing: Geralt of Rivia x Fem!Reader

Fandom: The Witcher (Netflix)

Summary: A Witcher is regularly summoned to your kingdom to take care of a continuous monster problem. What will be your reaction to repeatedly having the Witcher in your castle?

Warnings: SMUT, Cursing

*******

    “I do not trust a hulking beast to ‘protect’ this kingdom, no matter how many times he comes crawling back to us,” you recoiled.

    Your mother spoke. “The Witcher did not come to us. We summoned him because of the unfortunate beacon for monsters our kingdom was built on.” She went on, “We may not...approve of his species; however, we do need help. That...unfortunately...comes in the shape of...What do they call you? The White Wolf?”

    Geralt used his voice for the first time since entering the room. “That is correct, your majesty.”

    Your mother sighed, “Alright. Tomorrow, your hunt for the Striga begins. As for tonight, let us drink and be merry to celebrate the quick return of our peace. Let the party begin!”

    With that, the hall erupted in cheers.

    Your mother turned her gaze back on Geralt and, with detest, extended, “You are welcome to join us, Witcher...just don’t touch anything.”

    You sat back in your throne with your arms folded. You rolled your eyes.

    Once the celebration started, you could only stay for so long before you were so repulsed you had to leave. You went back to your bedchambers.

    About fifteen minutes later, there was a knock at your door, You prayed it wasn’t your mother as you went to answer it.

    Standing on the other side of your door was the White Wolf.

    The two of you stood there for a moment, just looking at each other. Then, you took a step forward and hastily captured his lips with yours.

    Geralt reacted just as passionately: he backed you up so the two of you collided with your door frame. From there, he picked you up bridal-style and carried you into your bedroom. He kicked the door shut behind him.

    “Fuck, I missed you,” Geralt promised as he eyes bore into yours. He laid you on your bed.

    “I guarantee you that I missed you mor--hhnn,” you cut yourself off with a moan when his hand snaked up your dress to palm your drenched cunt.

    Geralt repeated, “I missed you,” he kissed you and went on, “This pretty pussy.” He kissed you again. “The sounds you make.” Geralt leaned down to start sucking on your neck.

    “I hate being mean to you like that,” you told him breathily. Your eyes were closed.

    Geralt started kissing down your neck and chest as he started working off your dress. He took breaks from your skin to remind you, “We have to keep us a secret. You know how your mother will react if she finds out.”

    “Do not bring my mother up now,” you warned, much to Geralt’s amusement. “...But Gods, the things she said to you tonight--” Suddenly, you gasped.

    Geralt had slipped two fingers inside of you.

    You whimpered out his name and gasped again.

    “It’s alright, my love,” Geralt coaxed in his deep voice as he pumped his fingers in and out of you. “Relax. Feel my fingers.”

    “Geralt. Geralt, oh fuck. That feels so good.” One of your hands went to Geralt’s as you held his wrist close to your pussy. You were coming in no time. “Geralt-Geralt!”

    “Sh, shh,” hushed Geralt. He kissed your forehead. “I’ve got you. Cum on my fingers.”

    After you came down, Geralt helped you out of your dress. He then stripped off his shirt.

    You sat up. “I’ll never get tired of seeing this.” You smoothed your hands up his torso to circle your arms around his neck. You used that leverage to pull Geralt down to you.

    Geralt eased off his pants and promptly started grinding at your entrance with his sizeable cock.

    “Come on, honey,” you smirked, “You know you want to.”

    With a smooth smile of his own, Geralt sank into you.

    Your lips were still curled upwards as your jaw went slack.

    Geralt caught your lips in a bruising kiss as he pulled almost the whole way out of you just to thrust all the way back in. He swallowed your initial moan, just as he did each time he sunk into you.

    After some time, you broke off the kiss to warn Geralt in broken words, “Gonna...Gonna...Geralt!” you whined.

    “I know, sweetheart. Me too.” That last part was strained.

    Your eyes rolled to the back of your head and your toes curled as you came. You felt your whole body tense up, then slowly release itself in pulses.

    Geralt released himself inside of you with two powerful thrusts. He grunted as he did so.

    When you opened your eyes, you saw Geralt above you, mixing his breath with yours. He slowly opened his eyes. “I love you.”

    Gently, you reached up to caress his cheek with your thumb. You pulled Geralt down for a slow, languid kiss. After it was over, you returned, “I love you, too.”

*******

Author’s Note: Thank you for reading! Fill up that heart and reblog if you liked it! I would also really appreciate a comment, if you have the time. If you would like to read more, I have more stories over on my page. You should check it out. Have a nice day, night, or whatever time it is for you! <3 <3 <3

[asexualbookbird]

Ah, I read some books in 2024, huh? And eight rereads? Who am I. Tried a lot of new things this year which yay! Go me! Branching out! Not all of those were successes, but I did it and therefore no one can criticise me. But we all know what's important here. So here you go, THE BEST AND WORST OF 2024 (in no particular order)!

THE BEST BOOKS OF 2024

The Adventure of Amina al-Sirafi by Shannon Chakraborty - yes, I am still thinking about this, thank you for asking! A full entire adult of a person, a mother even, going on adventures? Fighting and killing and fucking and living? Hell yeah! More of this, please! I would also love to see a prequel of Amina's adventures before the book timeline. Everything about this was so great, I look forward to rereading it.

The City We Became by NK Jemisin - I was wary about this because it was so polarizing to readers. On one hand, even my least favorite Jemisin was still fun, on the other hand, I know nothing about New York. HOWEVER. The audiobook was FABULOUS. I wholeheartedly believe the audio is why I enjoyed this so much. This was FUN this is what reading should feel like all the time.

When the Angels Left the Old Country by Sacha Lamb -FRIEND TO MY SOUL. Again, beautiful audio performance. Beautiful story. I need my own copy so I can reread this to my hearts content. It's cute, it deals with heavy topics, it's gay, it's the friend to my soul.

WORST BOOKS OF 2024

The Novice by Taran Matharu - Ugh. Bought when released, knowing nothing, which seems to be a Theme with books sitting on my shelf I end up not enjoying. Learning about the history of this book made me more angry than the book itself. What do you mean his entire series was bought and published without an editor? It shows, but. Come on. Wattpad born and it shows.

Last Heir to Blackwood Library by Hester Fox- this was only for a summer reading bingo challenge, but come on. There are ways to pull the memory loss, or altered memory plot line and have it work. This did not do that. Wish a library would eat my memories of this book so I never had to think of it again.

Red Sister by Mark Lawrence - Mark Lawrence is one of those authors who writes long books because he thinks it makes him a Good Writer. Mark Lawrence is one of those writers who is afraid to write adult characters because he thinks they won't sell, but continuously puts them in adult situations to show how Hard their lives are and Isn't This Dark And Gritty And Sad without doing the work to actually get there. It toes the line between fantasy in scifi, but not well. It feels more indecisive than anything else.

HONORABLE MENTIONS

Firebreak by Nicole Kornher-Stace -more like fireBROKE MY HEART!!!! It was on my tbr list for years, and I finally found a copy and I'm glad I own it so I can reread it at my leisure. It's what Ready Player One could have been if it was actually good.

Godkiller by Hannah Kaner - Okay honestly, this and City were fighting for a spot in the main top three. Either could be there. I do honorable mentions for this very reason. I was surprised to learn this was a tiktok book, because yknow. It's actually Good. Witcher vibes, but with more respect towards women. Why isn't book three in my possession right this second.

Someone You Can Build A Nest In by John Wiswell - I Am Normal About This Book. It was fun to read and annotate it for a friend. It was fun to be around as two friends read it and I loved seeing their reactions to it. Loved cheering on Shesheshen, still think she deserves to eat more people. Friends and I will still share biting goop memes with the caption "Shex3 posting". It's safe to say this has rewritten my brain.

DISHONORABLE MENTIONS

Legacy of Ash by Matthew Ward - I was hyped about this book before release. I bought book two before even reading this because I was that sure I'd enjoy it. What a fool. This did NOT have to be 800 pages. It was another example of someone writing many words because they think that's what Good Writers Do, and not stopping to think about what those words even SAY. Which, in this case, was ~Absolutely Nothing~

Ghost Station by SA Barnes - crying sobbing this book was so fucking stupid. Best thing to come out of it was seeing a friend read it and confirming that yes, it was That Fucking Stupid. Learning the author mainly writes YA Paranormal explained why everyone had Too Stupid To Live disease.

I'm Afraid You've Got Dragons by Peter S Beagle - Admittedly only here to make things even and because it's still pretty fresh in my mind. I was soooo excited when this was announced, and now I'm soooo happy I didn't preorder it. More boring than anything else, but I don't wish it was longer because it already felt Too Long.

Once again, ignored rereads because I feel like that's cheating somehow. Let these be for highlighting new and fun books I discovered! I feel like the last few Bricks I've read have been Very Bad so I hope a couple of the bricks I have planned for 2025 are actually good. Considering one of those is Labyrinth's Heart, I think we're okay.

[welikeimagines-andfandoms]

Biting- Geralt x Vampire!Reader

Description: Your friend Geralt helps to quench more than just your thirst for blood

Word count: 1,673

A snarl sounded deep from your throat, and hissed passed your fanged teeth as Geralt tried to approach you once again.

“I just want to help you, y/n.” He explained gruffly, as he sat back down on the rough ground of the dark cave with a huff.

“A Witcher wanting to help a monster. Seems to go totally against what you are.” You smirk over to your friend, a joke you often make at his expense.

It was rare, if not totally unheard of, for a Witcher to befriend a monster, and yet that’s exactly what happened with yourself and Geralt.

He’d one day been tasked to hunt and kill you, but after finding out that you had only attacked that town because of the vile men that lived within it, he decided to spare you.

Most of your kind feasted on easy prey, innocent people who can’t defend themselves. You decided long ago to use your need for blood to help defend those innocent people, only going after those who deserve it.

“You know with how old you are and how long we’ve been friends, you think you would have thought of a better joke.” He chuckles deeply at you.

“And I would have thought with how old you are, you would have grasped the concept of ‘no’ by now.” You snap back at your friend.

Your head rested against the cave wall as you closed your eyes, trying hard not to focus on the sound of Geralts heartbeat, or his intoxicating smell. It had been too long since you had fed and you were starting to notice. Geralt had offered to let you drink from him, but you couldn’t hurt him.

Geralt had spent the last hour trying to convince you to drink from him, whereas you had spent that time convincing yourself that it was his blood you craved and not the way his skin would feel against your body. Geralt was a friend and you couldn’t cross that boundary with him, no matter how badly you craved to.

You must have been focusing a lot harder then you thought, because the next minute you felt Geralts hand on yours. As your eyes flung open, they glared into the witchers eyes.

The deep red of your eyes and the dangerous look you wore would normally scare anyone, but not Geralt. In fact if anything, it made him more bold. His hand left the top of yours as it made its way slowly up your arm, to gently cup around your neck.

It felt as though you were paralysed, locked in place by his intoxicating scent. Your rational and animalistic mind fighting a battle of wills as his head bent down to whisper in your ear.

“I can smell that it is more than just my blood that you crave.” Geralt whispered seductively in your ear, his other hand now rubbing up and down your inner thigh.

Your self control was bending but not broken, that was until he began to press hot and deep kisses onto your sensitive neck. With feel of his intoxicating kisses on your sensitive skin, and his scent so close, your control fully snapped and you became ravenous.

Grabbing him by the collar of his shirt, you pushed him against wall, landing aggressively in his lap as you now straddle his large thighs. With a hand in his hair, you pull his head back to expose his strong neck.

Geralt knew that in your hungry and desperate state that you’d be stronger than him, and honestly he seemed to like it.

“Is this what you wanted, Witcher? Wanted me to lose my composure? To hurt you?” You growled closely in his ear, accentuating your point by tugging at his hair harder and beginning to grind into his lap.

“Yes.” He sighed out, a cheeky smile both in his voice and on his face.

“Are you sure?” You ask seductively, but also as a way to really check this is what he wanted, as you sharp fangs began to lightly trace his neck.

“Mhmmm, I trust you, y/n.” He confirmed breathlessly.

Trying to prove his point or maybe just to get you to hurry up, he put one hand on your ass, to guide your grinding. Whereas the other carded through your hair, pushing your face closer to his neck.

Chuckling into his neck at his obvious excitement and mutual arousal, you began to lightly lick and kiss his neck, wanting to tease him for as long as you could.

With both of your heightened senses, you could both smell just how desperate the two of you were. The strong scent of his arousal and the delicious blood pumping through his body was driving you half mad, but you could hold off just a little longer if it meant teasing the Witcher.

“Y/N, stop teas-“ Geralt was promptly cut off as your fangs bit into his neck.

The feeling of your hot bodies pressed together and the delicious blood finally reaching your mouth, made a fire erupt all through out your body. Once that first drop touched your tongue it was all over.

Your whole arm wrapped around Geralts head, pushing it into your breasts as you began to hump and grind against his growing impressive bulge. You were like a woman possessed, pushing yourself further against him, not being able to get close enough to his body for your liking.

Finally breaking away from his neck, you let out a desperate moan as you began licking and pecking at his wound. You were fed but it still wasn’t enough.

Grabbing him by his white hair once again, you push his head back and away from your breast. Now looking at his face, you see it set in a dazed and dopey smile, hooded eyes looking into yours.

“So tell me, Witcher. Did you just want me to drink your blood or did you want to help me with my other cause of desperation too.” You whispered hotly against his lips, teasing him with an almost kiss.

“Well that’s what friends are for.” He smirks at you.

His once and usual manly stoic look was now wiped away, and instead a lust drunk smile of a boy takes its place. Geralt would not give up control to anyone, but in this cave and with you, it felt like there was no better way.

Smirking and looking into his eyes, you hungrily capture his lips in a searing kiss. The kiss was hungry and desperate, his hands digging into your ass as you begin to unbutton his trousers to release his hard and desperate cock.

Freeing his cock and pulling away to stand up, leaves him grunting in protest.

“So you don’t want me to ride your cock then?” You taunt him as smirk cheekily, beginning to undress yourself.

Geralt quickly began to behave as he watched your little show you began to put on him for him. Each item of clothing revealing more skin that Geralt desperately wanted to lick, kiss and touch.

“Yeh that’s what I thought.” You wink as you straddle his lap once again.

Taking his impressive cock in your hand, you stroke him a few times before lining yourself up with him.

Geralts head is pushed against and the cave wall and his eyes are closed, enjoying every ounce of pleasure that you’re giving him.

“Look at me, Geralt. I want to see your face as I sink down onto your cock.” You gently order, shifting your hips to tease his sensitive head.

Peeling away from the wall, his eyes look both desperately and hungrily into your own. Both begging you to use him and asserting his dominance all at once.

“Good boy.” You cheekily coo as you begin to sink down onto his cock.

You both seem to moan in unison as you hold each others gaze, both of you being filled with immediate pleasure and relief. It takes a moment to get used to his size, but once you are and you’ve properly bottom out, you begin to move immediately.

Grinding into him quickly turns into bouncing, causing Geralts hands to fly to your breasts. He groans as he takes one in his mouth and his other grabs at your ass.

You continue to bounce and use his cock for your own pleasure, drawing moans from both of you. Geralt feels blessed to be used in such a way by such a beautiful woman. His mind filled with nothing but how tight your pussy feels and how good your tits feel in his hand and mouth.

The cave is filled with both of your mixed moans and grunts. The sound of skin slapping onto skin getting louder and louder and you bounce faster and faster.

Pulling Geralt away from your breasts by his hair, you place his hands on your hips. His strong fingers dig into the flesh of your hips as your breasts bounce deliciously in his face, leaving him staring at your form, hypnotised by your beauty and power.

“Fuck! Geralt! You feel so good! Such a good fucking boy.” You praise as your fingers come down to play with your clit.

Geralt can’t help the way his moans become almost animalistic, as your pussy clenches around his cock. Grunts and groans leave his beautiful parted lips and echo around the cave as you both reach your end.

“Fuck, Geralt, I’m so close!”

“Me too. Fuck! Cum with me, sweetheart.” He grunts out in response.

You were wound so tight and from just those words alone, you couldn’t hold on much longer. The tension in you snapped as you came with a loud roaring moan, your head flying back.

Geralt took a tighter hold of your hips as he thrust into you powerfully, finishing only seconds after you.

Panting deeply with sweat covering both of you, you push your forehead against his as you both catch your breath.

“Maybe I should come to you when I’m thirsty more often.”

[eggcompany]

Gonna do a Geraskier fic, sort of canon adjacent.

There’s a special potion, something kept only for when witchers are at safety. Complete safety. Usually only when they’re surrounded by other witchers or locked away somewhere secure and secluded.

It makes him feel… dopey. And horny. It’s just kinda a recharge type of thing, mostly to keep them from going insane.

It’s Jaskier first time seeing Geralt so wild. He can’t sleep, he doesn’t eat, he’s got this look in his eyes like he’s full of static. He’s walking, going through the motions of traveling, but there’s nothing there. No matter how much Jaskier speaks, pesters, even gives him small touches, Geralt is a zombie.

Finally Jaskier puts his foot down, they had found an old abandoned house, burnt down but the cellar was intact. He took Roach’s reins and tied her to what was left of an old shed, under the cover with plenty of grass around.

He ushered them down into the secure, quiet space. It was spacious for a cellar. Throwing down their bedrolls and their lantern, lighting it with ease. Geralt sat in a corner, eyes blank as he spaced out.

Jaskier locked the door behind them and tossed Geralt’s satchel, his potions and tinctures.

“Fix yourself. I refuse to travel another step with you all-all dead fish faced and mopey!” Jaskier commanded and Geralt looked at him. Geralt dug through the satchel and found the small, tiny bottle of something shimmery and white.

Geralt looked at Jaskier as he uncorked the bottle. Jaskier was making the bedrolls and digging through their supplies. He took a sip, a few drops feeling like gold on his tongue.

The next morning when they woke up, Jaskier woke up first for the first time ever. He looked over at Geralt and was shocked. Geralt was smiling. In his sleep, his lips were turned up in a soft smile.

Jaskier was weirded out the entire day. Geralt walked slowly, lazily, he kept petting Roach, a hand gliding across her, fingers in her mane. And he ate. He stood and ate berries from a bush, having to be pulled away. And his eyes were big and round, relaxed.

Jaskier finally found a town, Geralt being no help with navigation at all. He found an inn and shoved Geralt up the stairs with a promise of ale and a bed. It was only as Geralt sat in front of the fireplace in nothing but a towel, shoving bread into his mouth did Jaskier notice something else.

Geralt was blushing, a pink to his cheek, faint and barely there but blush nonetheless. He came up and reached out, touching Geralt’s ear, usually the Witcher would have whipped around and smacked him, bit him, something.

“Geralt? Do you feel well?” Jaskier asked when Geralt leaned into his palm. And then Geralt was turning to nuzzle in closer.

Jaskier soon found out that Geralt was not feeling well. He was feeling everything.