#*the witcher | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 20 hours

Text

Winter's King 8

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, cheating, violence, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You are a maid to the Duke of Debray, a lord of the Summer Kingdom. That is, until the king of Winter appears with his particular air of coldness. (Medieval AU)

Characters: Geralt of Rivia

Note: yo, work is driving me nuts.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

Lady Jazlene, a queen by marriage, cries herself to sleep. You stay until she snores and snuff the candle as you leave her on her stomach atop the stuffed mattress. You emerge between the guards and wonder if they keep people out or keep her in.

They don’t react to you. No one really does. A shadow approaches. The thickset man grunts at you as the moonlight shines off his dark mail. Bryce waits patiently as you near him. He turns and walks beside you in silence.

Much of the camp is asleep. The only fires that remain are those of the soldiers on watch for marauders and bandits. Your soles kick loose pebbles and trample flattened grass further. You yawn as you reach the luggage carts and find the one you rode in. The grey horse is tie to the axle, dozing on its feet with puffing nostrils.

“The road will not get any less turbulent,” Bryce warns as he grabs his bedroll from across his mount’s rump. “You will need sleep, maid.”

“Thank you, sir,” you lift the canvas draped over the back of the wagon.

He grumbles and unfurls his roll across the dirt. You climb up and nestle down beneath the cover, pressed against a chest as you curl up. You hear the soldier lay down with a groan, “...too sweet...”

You close your eyes and rest your head on a bent arm. The darkness quickly swallows you up into slumber and the day fades into obscurity. You’re not conscious long enough to dread the one ahead.

As the sun rises, heat gathers in the cart. You wake in a damp sweat, nearly suffocating as you gulp up cool air. You slip down onto your feet and grab onto the cart to keep from stumbling. Bryce grunts as your soles crunch on the ground.

“Eh, where’re you off to?” He sneers.

You look down at him. His eyes are still closed as his grey steed sniffs at the dirt close to him.

“Sir, I... I haven’t... relieved myself since... erm, well...”

“Go on, but not too far,” he opens his eyes and sits up. “Holler if you meet trouble.”

The horse huffs into his steely hair and he pets its nose. He grabs onto its reins and hauls himself up. You quickly spin and flit away. You go off into the brush where its thick and squat down, your skirts gathered above your knees. You miss the springs behind the castle where you would bathe with the other maids, you could use a wash now.

You finish up and peer over the stretch of bodies, horses, and carts. You set off back toward the cart and as you come in sight of Bryce, he unties a dented kettle from his saddles. You feel much better without the pressure beneath your guts.

“I could fetch water,” you offer.

He looks over his shoulder. You think you surprised him.

“Quiet mouse,” he mutters and faces you, gripping the bent handle, “I can manage a potful of water.”

“Yes, sir, I only was being helpful.”

“You stay, take Daisy to find some fresh grass,” he points to the horse.

“Daisy?” You look at the beast, “is that her name?”

He shrugs and stalks off. You go to the reins and loose them. You glance around and lead her over to an unyellowed swath of grass. She dips her long neck and grazes, tearing the strands noisily as her teeth clack. You pet her ear as she comes rather close to the hem of your skirt.

Heavy steps tramp up behind you. You don’t bother looking as you assume it’s Bryce. Those who are stirring are barely able to lift themselves out of their rolls. The lazy rise of dawn does not inspire fastidiousness as the clouds haze amber and rose.

“Fine horse,” the king’s timbre rumbles over you.

You turn and bow your head, “your highness.”

He inhales through his nose before he speaks again, “are you a fast rider?”

“I’ve never... I don’t ride, your highness,” you reply, staring at his black mail, just at the center of his chest. “It isn’t my horse.”

“I know it, I thought perhaps...” he begins and shifts his weight in his boots, “you might’ve secreted away the mare. That you would be sick for your home.”

“Your highness? No, I wouldn’t--” You put your hand to your apron, “I am not a thief.”

He pauses and his thick fingers toy with his belt, fiddling with a leather purse, “that isn’t what I...” he blows out in exasperation, “I do not think you dishonest. In fact, you are the most honest creature I’ve met around here.”

You keep your eyes down, “I only mean to feed the horse.”

“Yes, I believe you,” he assures, his tone glum, “forgive my inference. Truly, it wasn’t intended as such.”

“I understand, your highness,” you say.

“It was a jape, a poor one, I suppose,” he hooks his thumb in his belt and turns to pace. “I wanted to thank you. I have yet to figure out how to handle Lady Jazlene but you keeping her company, I do appreciate it.” He stops and crosses his arms as he faces you again, “last night, what you heard and saw... we are strangers still, her and I.”

“I am a maid, your highness, I serve the lady and you now,” you reply, “that’s all I do.”

His arms bulge before he drops them, “yes, I suppose for you, the matters of nobility are dull.”

“It is not of my concern, your highness,” you say, “I am to see that all the wine and food and little things are taken care of.”

You peer up at the sky as the dimness slowly recedes. His figure looms below and he slowly treads closer. You squeeze the reins.

“You serve the queen, the king, and... a horse,” he reaches to touch its snout, dragging his knuckles along its grey fur. “Make certain we are fed and content.”

“Whatever is needed, your highness,” you answer and watch his hand stroke the horse.

“And what do you need?” He asks.

You quork your head and stick out your lip. It's an odd question. You have what you need. You have a place in the cart, you have some nuts left over from Bryce’s generosity, and you have some hours sleep behind you.

“Nothing, I think,” you say.

He scratches behind the horse’s ear, “and what do you want?”

You purse your lips. You think. Another strange inquiry. What should you want? That’s not something anyone ever worried for. You only troubled after what others wanted.

“I... I want to see the snow,” you say at last, “I think I dreamt of it but I can’t remember. I don’t really know what it would look like but I remember once Merinda spoke of it. She knew a stable hand who once lived in the north.”

He’s quiet. Your answer isn’t very interesting. To him, the snows must be so tedious. Nothing more than ordinary. He makes a clicking noise.

“I want to see the snow too,” he pulls his hand away from the horse and for a moment, he seems to reach for you, recoiling short of touching your grasp on the reins. He withdraws and presses his thumb to his teeth. He hums. “We have far to go before the snow...” he rasps, “should you require anything for the road ahead, you may ask.”

“That is kind, your highness, but I don’t expect I require much,” you assure, “thank you.”

“Mmm,” he drones as he faces the sunrise and sets his posture, “onward.”

He marches away as you stay and watch Daisy munch on the grass. You comb your fingers through her main, loosening the tangles. When another approaches, you glance over. Bryce tidies his own hair with his hands.

“Water is boiling, maid,” he declares, “I have some spare mint leaf for tea.”

“Yes, sir, thank you,” you smile down at Daisy and move out of reach of her teeth. “I will stay with the horse until she is done.”

“Hm, aye, I understand,” his forehead lines, “she is much more pleasant than I.”

He nods and turns back the way he came. You watch after him as he goes to sit before the hanging kettle, a low flame burning beneath it. He rolls his shoulders and hunches forward as he plants his elbows on his knees. These people of the Hinterlands are not so cold as they pretend.

⚔️

The long train continues through the lands. Some days slower than others. There are some where progress stops at midday in favour of passing through a village or approaching a nearby farm. The king departs from the larger party, riding with his soldiers to greet the commonfolk. Lady Jazlene refuses to accompany her husband in favour of her silk tent and wine.

The pauses in your trek makes you curious; you only ever heard of King Waleran showing his face to the citizens during the harvest festivals and self-aggrandizing ceremonies. You never saw the king yourself, only heard Lord Dustan and his wife resentfully complain of how the king never made the journey to Debray. Did he not recall that once a duchess was married to his great-uncle?

You spend the hours in Jazlene’s company. She wants her wine and mutton. You notice that her appetite for the former has grown since the first day’s travel. She even requested that some casks be sought during one of the king’s visits. He acted as if he did not hear her entreaty. Their few encounters since that first night have been terse and short, neither offering much more than a word or two.

The queen swirls her cup, watching the motion of the wine within. She giggles and puts it down, picking up the looking glass and admiring herself. She sits on a wooden stool, her skirts dusted with the dirt of the road. Despite the filth, she insists on sporting a new gown each day, no matter how extravagant.

“What a fool? To think he is wasting his time on commoners,” she trills, “you know, he should be here, worried about his wife and queen. Not married a week and all we’ve done is ride anon. I’ve had no wedding, no feast. How I am neglected for these dirty farmers.”

You say nothing. You’re not certain she recalls you’re there. She speaks to herself often as if her mother is there. A few times, she has even called for the duchess. Often when she’s nearly finished the bottle.

She pouts and sniffs. She drains the cup completely and puts it down heavily on the crate next to her. She grips the mirror with both hands and looks at her reflection. She contorts her face, sucking in her cheeks, pushing out her lips, turning her head this way and that.

“Aren’t I beautiful?” She nearly whispers. You don’t flinch. You stare at your hem. She sighs and stomps her foot, “I’m asking you!”

You peek up at her, surprised.

“Yes, your highness, you are very beautiful.”

She frowns, “you lie to me.”

“I wouldn’t lie, your highness.”

“Don’t argue with me,” she snarls and slams the mirror down, cracking the glass on the crate. She stands and blusters around, her skirts catching between her legs, “if I am beautiful, what makes me so, hm? Tell me!”

You stare at her. She is beautiful. You always thought so.

“Your hair, your curls, your highness, they are beautiful.”

She rolls her eyes, “just my hair?”

She wobbles slightly as she struts towards you.

“Your eyes. They are pretty too. And you have a nicely set nose. And your lips are finely curved, your highness,” you explain as she looms closer and closer.

“Hmph,” she stops, slouching drunkenly as she leans in to consider you, “of course you would say so. Look at you. So plain. An ugly handmaid.”

You stare back at her, a strike in your chest, then drop your gaze. It is the wine. She huffs, her alcohol-laden breath tinging your nose.

“The king,” she babbles as she turns on her heels, swaying dangerously, “we’ve only lain together our first night. It was... quick. He didn’t want me to sleep with him,” she raises a hand and flutters her fingers, “he shooed me away like some whore.” She spins and falls onto the stool, “if I am so beautiful, why does he not want me?”

You watch her. She isn’t looking for your answer. She’s talking to talk. Lady Rezlyn isn’t there so she has only herself and stagnant air trapped in the tent.

“It is my duty to have his babies. To give him heirs. I cannot do that if he will not touch me. But perhaps when are in one place, he might try again,” she smiles and lifts the broken mirror. She tilts it and lets her hand drift down to your bodice. She pushes her chest up, “when he lets me take this off, he will see. He will want me.”

She convinces herself as she preens at her reflection, “perhaps it won’t hurt.” She looks around and sees the bottle of wine. She grabs it by the neck. She grips it and wiggles it at you in the air. “He’s even thicker than this,” she puts the mirror down and balances the bottle on her palm as she circles her fingers around the bottom of the bottles neck, just before it rounds out, “and longer.”

You stare at the silk wall, mortified by her words. She giggles and the movement of her hand draws your eyes up. You watch from under your lashes as she brings her hands up and down the bottle neck.

“Mother says, just like this,” she pumps it, “that he should like it very much.” She stops and focuses on the bottle, “mmm, he is a man underneath it all.” She tosses the bottle away, “and I am a beautiful woman. He will want me.”

You lower your eyes again and twine your fingers together. You can’t help but feel bad for her. You only wish you had some words of wisdom or comfort to offer her. Or that she would hear them. You can’t help but touch the fading bruise along your stomach as you languish in the tepid silence. It’s better to let her forget you.

#geralt of rivia #dark geralt #dark!geralt #geralt of rivia x reader #fic #series #au #medieval au #the witcher #winter's king #dark fic #dark!fic

143 notes · View notes

shy-urban-hobbit · 11 hours

Text

Lambert/Aiden Smut under the cut. First time attempting to write anything remotely BDSM (C/W sensory deprivation, traffic light system, safe and consensual).

Lambert once told Aiden he'd one day love to be able to fuck him on silk sheets. This is the next best thing, right?

Aiden gave the room a final sweep before deciding there was nothing worthy of note - well, nothing left worthy of note. Like all the other rooms in the manor so far, this one had been totally ransacked. Anything of value, however miniscule, had been taken long before anyone thought to put a contract out concerning the disappearance of the Lord and his family (even the larger pieces of furniture hadn't been spared. Both of them assumed they'd been broken down for kindling at some point). Not that Aiden or Lambert had blamed them; from the looks of the decrepit hovels which had passed for houses in this bastards lands, it was only a matter of time before they started figuring out a way to dismantle the place brick by brick to rebuild their own homes.

If it weren't for the training that had become second nature at this point he would have missed it, crumpled up in a corner and almost blending in perfectly with the shadows. It was a little dusty like the rest of the room and bore one or two small holes which had probably been left by moths or a curious mouse but overall it seem to be fine. He smiled to himself as he shoved it into the top of his pack, feeling a plan start to form. His Wolf had been particularly melancholy the last few days and while it wasn't exactly the fantasy Lambert had divulged to him when he'd drunk his way to the 'sappy' end of his tolerance one night, but it was probably as close as they were ever going to get.

Lambert threw the rabbit bone he'd been gnawing on into the lit hearth, muttering something about going to check on the horses again - his excuse for when he wanted a few minutes alone. Everything so far was pointing towards foulplay rather than fiend but after agreeing that it wouldn't hurt to stay the night just to make sure, they'd hunkered down in one of the upstairs rooms after hunting down enough food and kindling in the house grounds to see them through the night. Aiden grabbed his find from his pack as soon as the door fell closed behind his retreating lover. He wasn't exactly sure how long Lambert would be gone for, so he needed to be quick.

True to his word Lambert did indeed go to check on the horses. The stable had been in less than ideal condition but they seemed fine enough in the small paddock. He did another sweep around the perimeter of the house -still finding nothing - before heading back inside, his footsteps echoing around the bare rooms and hallways in a way that wasn't too disamilar to back home.

He was about to push the door open when Aiden's voice called out "Wait!"

Lambert was immediately on guard. He hadn't smelt or heard anything, but you could never be too careful, "What is it?"

"Don't worry Wolf, everything's fine. Just, close your eyes before you come in? I have something for you."

Lambert quirked an eyebrow. That didn't sound suspicious at all.

Probably sensing his hesitancy, Aiden called out again, "Everything's fine Lam, trust me."

Lambert closed his eyes.

He heard the other walk towards him - barefoot if the lightness of the footfalls was any indication - before something cool was placed gently over his eyes, barely brushing his face.

"Can you keep them closed until I tell you, or do you want me to blindfold you?" Lambert thought about it for a minute before shaking his head hesitantly. Whatever it was instantly retreated.

"Same as always, you can change your mind at any time. I'm not planning on tying you down or gagging you, I just want you to keep your eyes closed for me and listen when I give you an instruction. I'll tell you when you can open your eyes and when you can and can't touch me. Alright?"

A nod this time, "Yes."

"Colour?"

"Green."

He felt Aiden's breath on his face as the other moved closer, skimming his hands over Lambert's shoulders and arms as he peppered kisses on his eyelids, his cheeks, his nose. Lambert fisted his hands, wanting to touch but waiting on his first instruction.

"You can touch." Aiden whispered against his lips before pressing their mouths together.

Lambert's arms immediately wrapped around Aiden as they kissed and he felt the same soft, slippery coolness as before. Curious, he let his hands wander, feeling the calluses on his hands snag every now and again on what he now recognised as silk. Far better quality than the moth eaten and worn stuff the whores he'd visited over the years would drape themselves in, but silk nonetheless. He bought his hands around Aiden's front to be met with the others fire warmed skin as that same fabric fluttered along the backs of his hands.

"Aiden, what the hell?" He panted when they both had to stop for breath.

"Shhh, patience Wolf. You'll see soon enough." Aiden cooed as he moved to kiss down Lambert's throat. He in turn ran one hand back up Aiden's chest until he encountered a pebbled nipple, rolling it between his finger and thumb and smirking at the moan and nip it got him in retaliation before his kisses travelled back up towards Lambert's jaw.

"Can I take this off?" He whispered in Lambert's ear, running his tongue along the shell as he toyed with the hem of his shirt. Lambert would be cursing himself for divulging that particular weak spot if he wasn't so focused on staying upright.

"Words, Lam." Aiden singsonged.

"Yes. Fuck, yes."

Another kiss before Aiden tugged the offending garment upwards and off, making a pleased noise as he stroked Lambert's chest and stomach. Lambert didn't even try to bite back the noise he made when those caresses turned into Aiden lightly raking his nails over bare skin, just shy of tickling in the way he knew drove Lambert insane. He pulled Aiden closer and nosed along his neck, having every intention of leaving a mark on one of those perfect shoulders. And spluttering when he found himself with a mouthful of silk, causing Aiden to laugh.

"Tsk tsk, almost making a hole in this." The laughter still dancing in Aiden's words belayed any sterness, "Just for that. Hands by your side."

Lambert let out a growl but did as he was told.

"Good boy." A kiss to the nose. Lambert resisted the urge to bear his teeth but just barely, knowing that if he pissed him off enough he'd never be allowed to see what the Cat had been up to. Unless he tapped out, Aiden would have him keep his eyes shut the whole time just to punish him.

He expected Aiden to carry on undressing him but instead, he took Lambert's hand in his,

"I'm going to lead you further into the room now, ok." They went slowly, Lambert keeping a firm grip on the others hand. It was only a few steps but it was still a little jarring feeling this vulnerable while moving, "I'm going to help you lay down. Colour?"

"Green."

Lambert found himself being lowered onto what he recognised by scent as their bedrolls, Aiden encouraging him to lie flat accompanied by soft kisses and whispered words before straddling him. Lambert automatically moved to rest his hands on the others hips before remembering he wasn't allowed to touch and lowering them by his sides awkwardly. Aiden huffed another laugh before grabbing his wrists and gently guiding both of Lambert's hand above his head. He didn't need to tell Lambert to leave them there.

Lambert felt Aiden's hands at his waistband, undoing the fastenings of his trousers at a torturously slow pace until he was dipping a hand inside Lambert's brais and freeing him. The Wolf let out a whine at the much welcomed contact, thrusting up as Aiden's long fingers stroked him steadily, almost lazily, the other backing off whenever Lambert tried to speed up the movement of his hips until he got the message and let Aiden set the pace.

"I want to ride you." And Gods, Aiden sounded wrecked enough that he could have been the one on the receiving end of a hand job.

"Fuck. Aiden, please."

"Alright." He felt Aiden shift further down his legs and rise up, his knees still either side of Lambert "You just keep lying there and looking pretty for me for a minute."

He caught the lightly spiced scent of the oil he favoured followed by the sound of Aiden's breath catching in his throat. Was he....? Aiden's breathing shortly turned to breathy gasps and moans. Fuck, he was! Aiden was prepping himself while hovering over him! Lambert felt his cock jump at the picture in his mind's eye. Aiden naked, hips thrusting and head thrown back as he rode his own fingers, his free hand running over his own body, teasing his sensitive spots. Of course, his imagination could never compare to the real thing which was so tantalisingly close.

"Ah, ah, ah. No peeking, remember."

Lambert screwed his eyes tight closed, he hadn't even realised they'd started fluttering open,

"Shit. Sorry! I promise I didn't see anything!"

"You're absolutely sure of that?"

Lambert nodded vigorously.

"Then I suppose I can overlook that one." Aiden cooed, bringing a heavily oiled hand to Lambert's cock before moving to take him in, both of them swearing as Lambert breached him.

"You can touch now." Aiden breathed out once he was fully seated. Lambert's hands flew to Aiden's thighs, rubbing both silk and skin soothingly while the other adjusted.

"Fuck, Aiden." Lambert threw his head back as the other started moving, "I swear you get tighter every time we do this."

"Hah! You always know how to make a man feel special."

Lambert gave a thrust of his hips in response, causing Aiden to fall forwards with a yelp, hands on Lambert's chest as Lambert unexpectedly caught his prostate dead on. Something he now made a point of doing again and again.

"Fuck! Lambert - shit - look at me. You - you can look."

Lambert fought to open his eyes against the onslaught of pleasure and was very glad he did. Aiden looked positively debauched; his hair hanging in damp curls around pleasure blown eyes and his mouth hanging open. The silk robe he was wearing was open and hanging off one shoulder and he realised the blindfold Aiden had offered him earlier must have been the tie. Lambert wasn't sure what colour it was originally, but the light from the fire, along with the fabrics sheen made it look as if his lover was clothed in liquid flames. He wasn't sure if Aiden looked more ethereal or devilish in this moment but whether he led him to salvation or damnation, Lambert would happily follow him regardless.

He flipped them both so Aiden was underneath him, barely giving the other time to register the change in position before he was thrusting into him roughly, grabbing onto a silk covered hip as he encouraged Aiden to wrap his legs around his waist, the others moans turning into near screams at the new angle. Silk clad arms slipping across Lambert's sweat soaked skin as they threw themselves around his neck, hanging on for dear life.

Lambert's name echoed around the house as Aiden came, and Lambert quickly followed as his hips stilled inside the fucked out body beneath him. Aiden grumbled unhappily as he pulled out and pulled Lambert's head down so it was resting on his chest before stroking his hair, ever the clingy one after an orgasm.

"So...not that it wasn't great. But what bought that on?"

"You've seemed a little sad and you mentioned once that you wished to one day be able to fuck me on silk sheets in a big, fancy house somewhere. I figured a silk robe in an abandoned manor house was the next best thing."

Lambert lifted his head to look at him, "I'm surprised you remember me saying that, we were that drunk. I barely remember me saying it."

"Of course. I remember all the wishes you tell me. Never know when I might be able to help one of them along."

Lambert...had absolutely no idea what to say in response to that so instead chose to kiss his Cat so thoroughly, Aiden came away from it looking slightly dazed.

"You're keeping the robe, right? I think I just discovered about a dozen more wishes all involving it."

#the witcher #the witcher fanfiction #aiden/lambert #aiden x lambert #lambden #lambert/aiden #lambert x aiden #witcher aiden #lambert #witcher lambert #smut #the witcher smut

8 notes · View notes