MDNI—> Blog 18+ 24, female, loves reading, binging content and now writes for Henry Cavill and his characters, still eating probably too much chocolate for her own good!
The cold tang of metal; old pipes running overhead, faintly sweating in the dark, leaving the air tasting like a coin pressed on the tongue. Water drips from them in slow, uneven ticks. The concrete walls give off a sour, mineral scent that clings to your clothes, your skin, the inside of your nose.
You can feel its chill even at a distance.
The corridor beneath base isn't on any blueprint. You're almost certain of that. The blackout hit twenty minutes ago, throwing half the compound into emergency lighting, and you'd taken the wrong turn looking for a backup auxiliary generator just in case that failed in medical, too.
Down here, it's nothing but a maze of concrete veins and rusted pipes.
And then you see a light. Dim. Jaundiced yellow. It flickers from behind a door left slightly ajar.
You think: maintenance worker. You think: maybe someone else got lost, too.
You absolutely do not think: Ghost.
Until you pull the door open.
The room is small. Windowless. Hidden. A tiny bunker nested inside another bunker, like a pearl in an oyster. Shelves line the walls from floor to ceiling, sagging under the weight of things that don't really belong there. Weapons. Tac gear. And then... other things. Stranger. Human.
A wristwatch with a spider-web crack on the glass. A cigarette box with a corner crushed inward. Dog tags with the chain snapped. A deck of cards stiff with old blood, tucked inside wax paper so they won't rot. And there are photographs too, warped by water damage, every face blurred or gouged out entirely.
And there, sitting on an old crate in the center of it, is Simon Riley.
Unmasked.
You've barely seen his face, and it already feels like you've seen too much.
The sickly light above drags across him in pieces— sharp cheekbones, sunken, exhausted eyes, a nose crooked from breaks that no one tended. He looks so much older than he sounds. His broad shoulders are hunched forward, forearms on his thighs, gloved fingers flicking open the lid of an old lighter.
Click. Click. Click.
The sound ricochets strangely around the cramped room.
Ghost doesn't move for the mask beside him, doesn't curse, doesn't even look surprised. He just lifts his eyes toward you slowly, and the weight of that gaze pins you in the doorway harder than any weapon could.
"You lost?"
The question comes out calm enough to make your stomach drop straight to the floor. You glance down at your boots because looking directly at him feels like reading someone else's obituary over their shoulder.
A dozen things suddenly crowd your throat, and all of them true. I was looking for a generator for the med wing. I didn't know anyone was down here. I didn't know anyone could come down here. But your tongue sticks uselessly to the roof of your mouth, like language itself has abandoned you in the scarred face of this man.
"I didn't— I, uh, yeah." Pathetic.
(Ghost doesn't seem like the type who wants anything more than the bare‑bones answer anyway.)
"Mm."
Click.
You should leave. Every instinct hammered into you by years around dangerous men tells you that much. You should swear silence, pretending you never saw the shape of his lips in this light. But your attention catches on a simple silver band. It's scratched to hell, and there are initials carved inside.
T.R.
Your mouth moves before your better sense can catch it. "Whose was that?"
Ghost's thumb stills. "A dead man." Flat. Immediate. Final.
(You can't tell whether he means the ring or the lighter or every object in this room at once. Maybe he can't either.)
You swallow hard, mouth dry. "Sorry."
Click. The lighter snaps open, but the flame doesn't come.
"Should be." There's something wrong with the way he says it. It doesn't sound like grief, exactly. Grief is softer than this.
You don't know what compels you to step inside fully. Maybe it's morbid curiosity. Maybe explicit stupidity. Maybe it's because if you leave now, you'll never see this version of Simon Riley again.
The door shuts behind you with a muted clang, sealing the air in, sealing you in. The room immediately shrinks around it. It isn't large to begin with, barely bigger than a storage unit, but with Ghost inside it becomes suffocating.
"Did he serve?"
Ghost's thumb drags slowly over the ridged wheel of the lighter. Once. Twice.
"No."
Your eyes flick unwillingly around the room again. The objects make more sense now in the worst possible way. They're relics. Remains. Every item preserved like an insect trapped in amber.
Ghost notices where your attention goes because men like him miss nothing. "You ask everyone this many questions?" he murmurs.
"No."
One corner of his mouth twitches. "Smartest thing you've said since opening that door."
Heat crawls up the back of your neck. Embarrassment. Shame. Both tangled together so tightly you can't separate them anymore. You take half a step backward. "I should go."
"Probably."
But he doesn't tell you to leave, and if Ghost didn't want to be found, you would've never made it this far.
You glance at the walls again. "Do you keep all these to remember them? Why?"
Why keep pain? Why keep so much of it? Why hoard grief like a magpie with its sharpest baubles?
Click. Click. Click.
It's silent. Then: "Someone should."
You crouch carefully beside the shelves. Up close, the objects feel even worse somehow. They're gruesome in their normality.
A bent keyring with a faded supermarket rewards tag still attached. A cheap pen chewed along the cap. A cracked pair of sunglasses wrapped in cloth to keep the lenses from scratching further. Tiny pieces of lives, stripped of context, reduced to artifacts by time and violence.
Your eyes catch on a wristwatch stopped permanently at 2:17.
You imagine someone lending out that pen and asking for it back. Someone tugging on those sunglasses under summer heat. Someone flicking ash from cigarettes with living hands.
Now all that's left of them fits on a shelf.
A shiver crawls beneath your skin.
Ghost watches you from the crate without moving. Without the mask, there's nowhere for your eyes to hide from the damage time has done to him. His skin is weathered, roughened, uneven in tone;
patches of old bruising that never quite faded and tiny, pitted marks from shrapnel or gravel or god knows what else. He has a scar that runs along the corner of his mouth, tugging it into a half‑sneer even when he's expressionless.
He is not handsome. And you don't think he's meant to be.
"Most people disappear twice," he says after a while. His voice is low enough that the pipes overhead nearly swallow it. "First time's when their heart stops."
Click.
"The second's when nobody says their name anymore."
The lighter snaps shut.
You look at the silver ring again. "Were you close?"
Ghost's gaze rises.
It washes over you again— that awful sensation of standing too close to something built to kill. Predators tend to go still before they decide whether you're a threat or a meal.
The room seems to contract around the weight of his attention. Then his eyes drift away again; a mercy.
"He talked too bloody much," Ghost mutters.
You blink. It's so unexpectedly human an answer that it nearly knocks the breath from you. A faint scrape sounds as he leans back slightly against the wall behind the crate.
" 'ated tea." His thumb drags once more across the lighter wheel. "Burned every meal he touched. Thought he could sing."
Another click of the lighter.
"Couldn't." A laugh nearly escapes you before you catch it. It still curls warm in your chest anyway, small and startled and terribly out of place down here among the ghosts.
Your gaze catches briefly on the bare skin of his face again before darting away almost painfully fast. You know, distantly, that you should be afraid of being caught staring. But there's another feeling underneath it too. Something terrible and magnetic.
Ghost's hand closes suddenly around the lighter, swallowing it entirely inside his fist. "Seen enough?"
You nod too quickly. "I won't tell anyone."
"I know." Your skin goes cold before your mind even parses the meaning. The weight of his stare nearly locks your knees. Then his eyes flick once toward the doorway behind you.
"Generator room's two corridors east," he says. "Take the left staircase. Panel sticks sometimes. Kick it before you flip the switch."
Your mouth parts slightly. He knew why you were down here. Maybe he'd known from the second you opened the door.
"Right," you manage softly. "Thanks."
You stand slowly, pins and needles stabbing through your legs, and reach for the door. The concrete floor feels uneven beneath your feet. Damp cold curls around your ankles.
Your hand finds the handle... and then you stop. You don't know why. You don't know what you're waiting for. Permission? Forgiveness? A warning?
Ghost doesn't give you any of those. He just says, "Close the door behind you."
---
After that night, Ghost, who used to vanish the second a room got too full, who could slip between shadows like he was made of them, starts turning up everywhere. And for a man his size, it's wrong how no one else notices. Men twice as jumpy as you walk straight past him like he's not even there.
You do, though.
You're hunched over late‑night paperwork in medical, and the letters start to blur together until your eyes burn. You look up to blink the sting away and he's there.
(In the harsh light, he looks less like a man and more like the idea of one. Or maybe you're just tired.)
You take the stairwell because the elevator's been temperamental all week. Halfway down, thinking only of coffee and sleep, you round the landing and nearly collide with him. You mutter something, an apology, maybe. He says nothing.
You're outside, late, the air cold enough to sting your lungs. You step out to breathe, to be alone for thirty seconds. You're alone for three.
A shape detaches from the dark behind the storage crates.
You mention during lunch— not even to him, you don't think he'd been anywhere nearby— that the mess stopped stocking honey packets again. Mostly, you complain because the tea tastes like boiled dishwater without it.
That evening, there are six honey packets lined up neatly beside your med bag.
Your field knife vanishes from your kit a few days later. You spend an entire shift irritated and muttering under your breath about theft until it reappears tucked back where it belongs, cleaner and so sharp it glides through gauze as if it were water.
At first, you convince yourself it's just Ghost's version of care. It's stilted. Awkward. A little unsettling, maybe, but harmless enough.
But then the others start helping.
You mention offhand that your bunk heater's been malfunctioning for weeks. The next day, Gaz appears in your doorway carrying an entirely new unit under one arm. "Simon said yours sounded dodgy," he says casually, crouching to install it before you can even answer.
You stare. "Ghost told you?"
Gaz glances up briefly, screwdriver between his teeth. "Mm." Like that explains literally anything. And maybe to them, it does.
A week later, you find a thermos sitting on your desk. It's not new, nor standard issue. It's an old, battered steel thing with a dent in the side and a bit of black tape wrapped around the lid to keep it from rattling. It's warm when you touch it.
You unscrew the top. Inside it is tea. It's not good tea. Not even close. It's strong enough to strip paint and smells faintly like someone boiled it in a canteen over a camp stove.
But there's honey in it. Your throat goes tight.
You carry the thermos with you to the rec room, still not sure what to do with it. Soap spots it instantly. "Och, ye found it then?" he says, eyebrows lifting.
You stop dead. "You know whose it is?"
He looks baffled by the question. "Aye?"
"And... you knew someone went into my office?" Your voice pitches higher than you mean it to. There's personal information in there. Medical files. Notes. pieces of people's lives sealed under law and ethics. HIPAA would have you by the hair.
Soap snorts into his coffee. "Someone?" he repeats. "Bonnie, that's Simon."
You stare at him, Soap stares back, and that's the end of the conversation, apparently.
Then, it's Price. One evening during a lull between briefings, you're standing in the doorway of his office with a mug of tea you don't remember making. The steam curls weakly in the dim light, and Price glances at it, at you, before returning to the report in front of him. "Simon tell you to drink more water too?"
You blink. "What?"
He flips another page, pen tapping at the margin. "Been on me for weeks about it." There's a faint twitch at the corner of his mouth, not quite a smile, but close enough to count. Like this is funny to him.
"Sir," you say carefully, "are you aware Ghost has been—"
You trail off because suddenly you don't know what word fits. Watching sounds paranoid. Following sounds worse. Collecting feels somehow closest, which is an insane thought to have about another human being.
Price supplies it for you without looking up. "Hoverin'."
"…Yes."
"Hm."
Somewhere down the corridor Soap bursts into loud laughter before being shushed by Gaz. Price takes a slow sip from his mug before adding, almost absently, "Has Simon ever made you feel unsafe?"
The answer should be yes. Every metric of common sense says yes.
Objectively speaking, Simon Riley is terrifying. He moves like something built for violence first and humanity second. He appears soundlessly in doorways. Watches you with unnerving intensity. Notices things.
The things he does are strange. Undeniably strange. But for all the watching, Simon Riley is almost painfully careful with you. He doesn't corner you, doesn't demand your attention. Half the time he leaves before you can even thank him for whatever odd little act of care he's committed this week.
Your silence answers for you.
Price looks at you and nods once, satisfied. "There y'are then."
He returns to his report. Matter settled, then.
----
The mission in Moldova goes to shit fast. Too fast. The intel is compromised, the extraction blown, and gunfire erupts before anyone can reposition behind cover.
You aren't supposed to be at the front line to begin with. You're support: field medical, stabilization, trauma response. You're the medic they bring when intelligence suggests possible civilian casualties or prolonged extraction windows. Your job is to keep people alive long enough to make it home, not trade fire in the middle of kill zones.
And the safehouse was supposed to be clear.
You remember shouting, smoke, your ears ringing. Simon's voice in your comms suddenly turning sharp— Medic, move. Now— and then pain. A bullet tears through your shoulder and the world folds sideways. You hit the ground hard enough to black out for a second or two at a time. Shapes blur around you. Someone is screaming. Maybe you.
One second you're alone on the ground. The next Ghost's on his knees in front of you, his gloves slick red as he presses them against your wound. Pain detonates white-hot behind your eyes.
"Stay awake."
You've heard him interrogate men in a softer voice.
Gunfire erupts again somewhere behind him. Ghost doesn't even look back. His body shields yours automatically, broad enough to blot out everything— light, movement, danger— while bullets punch splinters from the wall nearby.
Until all you can see is the skull on his mask and the rise and fall of his chest.
----
Recovery takes weeks. Simon becomes unbearable during them. He sleeps outside medical twice before Price threatens disciplinary action. You wake one night to find him standing motionless in the doorway at 04:13, just watching your chest rise and fall.
He doesn't even pretend he wasn't caught. Just leaves.
---
You return to the hidden room alone six weeks later. The light is still a sickly yellow. Lines reduced to residue still line the shelves. But something's changed.
There's space now, a section cleared carefully among the clutter. And sitting there is a little polaroid you'd forgotten existed entirely.
Soap had taken it weeks ago in the mess after somebody smuggled in terrible instant film cartridges that developed blotchy and grainy. Youd forgotten the picture existed almost immediately afterward. In it, you're laughing, head turned halfway away from the lens, grin wide enough to make your eyes crinkle, shoulders blurred slightly from movement because you must've been laughing hard enough not to stay still.
Your stomach bottoms out. It feels like you're looking at a grave that's waiting for a body. The door opens behind you with a low groan. Heavy boots scrape once. The silence that follows is thick enough to chew on.
You swallow hard. "Why do you have this?" Your fingers hover near the photo but don't touch it. Beneath the white border, written in messy black marker, is a date. The date you were shot.
Did he think—? You turn to look at him. Ghost stands in the doorway, shoulders filling the frame, the skull of his mask gleaming pale.
"Did you put this up because you thought I was dying?"
For the first time since you met him, Ghost looks faintly offended, like you've questioned his competence. "No," he says immediately. "It was only a flesh wound."
Simon shifts his weight from one foot to the other, massive arms folding across his chest. "You were alert during extraction," he continues, matter-of-fact. "Bleeding slowed after pressure was applied. Entry and exit wound. Missed anything important by a fair margin."
Then, dry enough to almost sound irritated: "Not everyone falls apart after getting shot."
You stare at him. At the utter sincerity of it. At the absurdity of hearing only a flesh wound, as if bullet holes were only inconvenient weather. "Then why put it here?"
Simon's eyes settle on the Polaroid. "I put it because you looked happy."
It's sweet. Awkward. Deeply concerning. But sweet.
--
And then, Prague. Prague is wet and fast and mean. It's the kind of violence that happens in cramped stairwells where gunfire deafens instantly and men die choking around blood that steams in winter air.
Ghost kills three people in under thirty seconds. A throat crushed wetly by one gloved hand. A knife disappearing under a jawline. A gunshot so close the spray hits the concrete hot.
You spend extraction with blood soaking through your gloves while stabilizing a wound in the extraction van. Diesel fumes. Rain hammering the roof. Soap swearing through a morphine haze. By the time, you get back to the safehouse, your head feels packed with cotton.
The med bay lights buzz softly overhead in soft white strips while rain rattles against the windows outside. Soap's already been discharged with stitches and complaints. Gaz disappeared an hour ago. Price is somewhere, buried in paperwork and classified reports.
Ghost is the last patient left. He sits on the edge of the examination table in silence while you cut through the ruined compression sleeve on his arm.
Blood slicks your fingers dark and tacky. "Hold still," you mutter.
"I am."
You peel fabric carefully away from the gouge carved along his bicep. It's not deep. Ugly, though. Angry. Your fingers brush the straps at his shoulders.
"Need the vest off." Ghost doesn't move. You glance up.
The black paint around the eyes of his mask makes his stare look excavated. Watching you with that unnerving, absolute focus he always has. (Soap would call it a sniper's focus.)
Finally, he gives a single, heavy nod. You start emptying it out first, because the vest is heavier than it looks.
Knife. Radio. Extra mags. Another knife. Another.
Everything comes out piece by piece beneath your hands, heavy with rainwater and gunpowder and the metallic stink of blood. And then something small slips free from an inner pocket and lands soundlessly on the floor.
Black fabric. Tiny. Folded.
Your stomach drops before your brain catches up. You know those. You know them because they're yours.
For a second, neither of you move. The room becomes hideously quiet. Your pulse pounds thickly at your throat. Ghost looks down at the underwear. Then slowly up at you.
There's no embarrassment in his eyes. No panic. Not even surprise.
"Simon." Your voice barely works.
His eyes cut briefly toward the door like he's checking whether anyone else saw. Then back to you. You wait for a joke. An excuse. Anything.
Instead, Ghost reaches down calmly, picks them up off the floor with two fingers, folds it once between his huge hands, and slides it back into the inner pocket of his vest.
"Your hands are cold. Stitch me up, and we'll get out of here, get you something dry to wear."
(Complete, link for the first part, down below ⬇️)
Summary:
It’s the middle of summer and therefore incredibly hot. Of course right then something had to be wrong with your AC. How fortunate for you that a handyman can come right over…
Pairing: Syverson x Short Fem. Reader
Warnings: 18+, MDNI, cursing, explicit description of sex, thirst trap named Sy, teasing, size kink, chasing?, choking (if you squint?), p in v (use of y/n = Your first name)
Word count: 3K
A/N: Okay here goes my first attempt at writing smut…This is way longer than I intended it to become, whoops. Honestly this just came to me while stumbling over a song (aka the title of this specific fic 🤣). Also I think this reads a little like a bad porn video SORRY…but anyway….here goes nothing🙈😅….
It’s not proofread, any mistakes are my own. Please be kind, comments/reblogs are very appreciated…Thank you❤️✨
!Syverson is not my own creation (unfortunately)! And the song/lyrics don’t belong to me either!
🍑🍑🍑🍑🍑🍑🍑🍑🍑🍑🍑🍑🍑🍑🍑🍑🍑🍑
(In case you’ve missed PART 1)
PART 2
Sy was caught off guard but only for a second, then he set his body into motion. Like a raging bull he chased you up the stairs, not even three steps behind you. Hearing his thundering footsteps approaching and fast, you squealed.
You turned to your left, throwing your bedroom door open, darting into the room without stopping. Sy was right at your heels, bulldozing into the room so close behind that he simply tackled you onto the huge bed. Making you fall, face first into the soft mattress, which smothered your surprised shriek. His body covered you wholly, making you feel even smaller underneath his massive frame. Lying there and trying to catch your breath, you swore you felt him harden against you.
Well truth be told he finally had you where he so desperately wanted you.
Reluctantly he let you up enough, so you could turn around, now facing his bearded face which had carnal hunger written all over it. “Caught you…Now, what am I gonna’ do with you darlin’?”
Seizing the opportunity you grabbed his head and pressed your lips against his. Sy reciprocated immediately, grabbing your hips and pushing you up and against him. Hissing into the kiss once you crossed your ankles behind his back, gently rocking your hips. He let go of you, in favour of crawling on all fours up onto the bed; so he could lie his whole body down comfortably, while you clung to him.
Sy let your back slowly down onto the mattress, whereas you were still rubbing your drenched centre against his cargo shorts, surely leaving a wet spot. Only now coming up for air from the heated kiss you two were sharing, you breathed,” Fu-uck, please Sy I need you. Mmmh,” ending on a mewl, because he decided to rut against you right then. The unexpected pressure, stimulating your clit just like you needed it.
“Right with ya…” he rumbled. Without further ado, he took a hold of your flimsy dress and pulled it off, over your head, throwing it onto the floor.
Now his big sweaty body was towering over you, making you feel all small vulnerable, wearing only your white bra and matching panties.
That changed, as Sy’s lips attacked your neck at once, making his way down to the valley of your heaving breasts, all the while his beard scratched your soft skin in the best ways. Struggling to lay still, you squirmed at every kiss he pressed against your own sweat drenched skin.
You felt divine under his rough fingertips as he grabbed your lush thighs, opening your legs wider, so he could continue kissing down your body. Naturally you let your legs fall open, uncrossing your ankles, and digging your fingers into the bedspread. Sy stopped when he reached the waistband of your panties, both his hands splayed over your rib cage, fingertips lightly grazing your breasts beneath your bra.
Liking over his lips while resting his bearded chin on your stomach he looked up, where your eyes met. As blown out as his pupils were at the moment, you could only see a small ring of his normally bright blue eyes. “You look beautiful,” he rasped. Smiling down at him, you sat up slightly so you could gently run your hand over his head then down to cup his chin. “Mmh I’d say the same, but I can only see your handsome face so far,” you answered just as affectionately.
Sy understood you right away, almost falling off the bed, in his hurry to get undressed. Somehow he still managed not to.
Back on the bed, only wearing his briefs, you admired his bare, hairy chest pulling him down for another heated kiss. His body hair, lightly scratching over your smooth skin, ensured that you felt every inch of him even more intensely.
Moaning into his mouth, as his tongue invaded yours and began to explore you thoroughly. Breaking the kiss to demand what your aching centre needed most. “Please, just…need you.”
“Bet you’re soaking wet for me, aren’t ya? Wanna have a taste first.” Shaking your head no, he looked at you expectedly, when you didn’t elaborate he continued, “Darlin’ use your words, what do you want?”
“I…just…I need you now. Next time you can…you know,” stumbling over your own words already, even though he hadn’t done much yet, was an enormous boost for his ego.
He thoroughly enjoyed making you squirm, so he smirked, “Next time I can what?”
It was your turn to glare at the amused man kneeling between your legs. Impatiently you snarled, “For fuck’s sakes, if you don’t get to it, right now…I promise that you’ll never get a taste!”
Sy’s smirk only widened in response, then he suddenly pulled you down by your ankles, until you lay on your back. “Still gotta prepare you though.” With one swift movement he yanked your ruined panties down and off your legs. Making you mewl at the sudden air hitting your bare heat. He looked down, hungrily staring at your sopping folds. “On second thought, you don’t need much preparing, do ya? Could probably slide right in.”
Feeling a little embarrassed at how turned on you had become, you tried hiding your face in the pillow. “Ah none of that darlin’. Wanna see your face, when I make you come.” His hand gently turned your face towards his, smiling softly down at you. “That’s right, eyes on me, y/n.”
Sy didn’t let you protest any further, as one thick finger slowly dipped between your folds. Running down to your clenching, dripping hole. Without warning he pushed two of his fingers inside, stretching you deliciously and making you bow your back, gasping. “Nnhg…”
“That’s a good girl. Takin’ my fingers so well.” To ease a bit of the tension in his own briefs he tried adjusting the tent within. Exhaling heavily when you clamped down on his fingers, hard. You couldn’t help it, having caught a glimpse of his huge tent. Well huge was still somehow an understatement, but you trusted that Sy knew what he was doing.
He cupped your pussy and at the same time spread his thick fingers, stretching you carefully. Making you chase the friction of his palm against your little pearl. He started moving his fingers in and out of you, though at the slowest pace know to men. In an attempt to get him to go faster, you bucked against his rough hand, trying to spur him on. “Please, need more. Please Sy.”
For the first time today, he quit his teasing and plunged a third finger in, moving them a lot quicker than previously. He had you moaning in no time, falling apart on his fingers. Sy managed to hit that special spot dead on, every time his fingers stretched your warm canal. “Yeah right there. Right there, don’t stop….” You felt it, your release was just around the corner, starting to tremble. Just as you were ready to see stars, the hand between your legs disappeared.
Your eyes snapped open, enraged that your orgasm had been stolen from you, you sat up, “What…no…why I was nearly there!?”
That smug fucker just sat back on his heels, sucking his fingers into his mouth and liking your juices off. The obscene slurping sounds he made while he enjoyed tasting you, had your insides feeling like liquid lava.
Deliberately slow he pulled his fingers back out, wiping them on the bedspread, staring you down with his sapphire blue orbs. Mirth and lust equally displayed within those same eyes, “Delicious. Also I ain’t let you come, unless it’s on my cock, understood?”
Too stunned to answer you gaped down, as his cock twitched within his briefs. Instantly a hand grabbed your neck, pushing you back down onto the mattress.
Startled by the sudden roughness, both your hands wrapped around the muscles of his sturdy forearm, looking up at him. Sy rumbled, “Do you understand?” His deep thundering voice paired with the hand lightly choking you, made you repeatedly squeeze around nothing. Craving his touch all the more, now that he wasn’t going to use his fingers to get you off.
“Yes. Yes I understand.” His hand let go, as did your hands, letting them relax next to your head. He was rather pleased with your response, so he let his enormous paw wander behind your back, nimbly opening your bra and getting rid of your last barrier.
Not being able to hold back any longer he took off his own briefs, throwing them on the ground as well. You looked absolutely breath-taking, lying completely bare before him, innocently looking up. Then your eyes fell down, gasping at the erect thickness between his thighs. Sy smiled proudly, promptly beginning to slide his own hand up and down his shaft. Where at the tip a drop pre-cum had already formed.
You watched and whimpered, “Please, please…”, wanting nothing more than to have is cock stretching you to your limit.
Not wanting to wait any longer himself he climbed between your legs. Cock in hand he tapped it lightly on your swollen clit, reducing you to nothing more than a squirming, whining mess.
Then he finally had mercy on you, brushing over your drenched opening once, twice and then he dipped inside. Holding your breath, as he fed inch by inch of his monstrosity into your tight little cunt.
“So fu-ucking tight.” He pressed through his teeth, hands digging into your sides to hold you in place and to make moving forward easier. Sy wasn’t even halfway in and you already felt incredibly stuffed. Every nook and cranny was filled up.
Apparently the last bit of his patience had run out, because he tilted his hips back and trusted forward with such force he sheathed himself to the hilt. You whimpered, arms now slung around his torso and fingernails digging into his back, making him grunt in return.
“Sh-shh that’s it, nice deep breaths darlin’, you’re takin’ me so well.” Closing your eyes, you tried concentrating on his soothing words and the gentle motion of his hands running up and down your sides, to prevent becoming overwhelmed by the fullness.
At last your pussy began pulsing, little by little growing accustomed to the way he stretched you so ridiculous far apart.
Sy noted your face slowly relaxing under his ministrations, but he’d wait until you gave him the go, and only then would he move.
When you thought it didn’t feel like he was splitting you in half anymore, you opened your eyes. He was looking at you intensely, blue eyes seemingly melting as his right hand reached up, caressing your cheek. “Are you alright? We can stop if it’s too much,” he whispered leaning down, to be yet closer to you, meaning every word he just uttered.
Your hands glided up, over his shoulder blades and to his head, pushing him down further so you could kiss him again. This time it was a slow sensual kiss, without haste just feeling the other’s lips and moving in tandem. Once you separated from each other, you whispered back, “I’m fine…and don’t you dare stop now, when I conquered your mighty beast.” His dark chuckle send vibrations down to where you were intimately connected, making you sheer crazy with need.
“Well then let’s see if you truly conquered it, shall we darlin’?” Sy snatched you up, gripping your behind and pressing you impossibly closer to his body. You crossed your ankles behind his back anew, holding on for dear life as that bear of a man pulled all the way out just to ram back into your tight, hot tunnel. And just as you thought he couldn’t go any deeper.
He repeated that powerful motion again and again. Resounding groans breaking free from his mouth while yours gaped open, letting whine after whine escape you.
Sy nuzzled your neck, making you hear and feel every one of his delicious grunts and lewd comments. You weren’t even able to respond, let alone string more than two words together at the moment.
He repeatedly fucked his massive cock inside your pussy, keeping his pace like a sledgehammer. “That’s right, made for my cock, darlin’.”
You just needed a little push and then you’d undoubtedly fall over the edge. As if he could read your mind, the hand that wasn’t grabbing your rear, smoothly slid between your dripping bodies.
As soon as his hand reached its destination, rubbing circles over your clit, the band within you instantly snapped. Gushing around him, your legs shaking, clamping down on Sy’s cock. “Aaah fuck, that’s it Darlin’, come for me.” His grip on your ass, turned near bruising, slowly but surely losing his pace and rhythm.
Wanting to get him off, just as hard as he had you; you clenched your slightly oversensitive cunt and purred into his ear,” Yeah, so deep, please… come inside me.”
“Fuck…”, that did him in and with one last stroke, you could feel his seed filling you up. His body all taunt for a second before he relaxed. Sy kissed the side of your neck, as the last bit of his cum entered you. He let out a deep sigh,” You were…that was…,” struggling to find his words, he lifted you off of his cock. Continuing to muzzle your neck and placing soft kisses on your skin. Now lying outstretch on your back, you could feel his seed spilling down your pussy, making you shiver slightly.
“Mmmh yeah that was amazing, I agree.” You answered his unfinished sentence, a smile creeping onto your face.
Eyes closed, you felt the mattress dip as Sy moved off the bed. You heard the tap running, when he returned, you opened your eyes. He’d a washcloth in hand, tilting his head in question. Nodding at him, he carefully brought the cool cloth between your legs, cleaning you and removing your conjoined fluids. Once he was done, he sat it down on the nightstand to be put away later.
“Love, could ya scoot over a little?” Worn out, you rolled sluggishly to lay on your right side, still just as naked as him. The mattress dipped again, as Sy snuggled up behind you, spooning you with his overheated body.
“So how’d ya like it?”
Turning slightly in his arms, to look at the smug expression he wore on his face, you mumbled,” Mmh well, I was a bit sceptical at first. But you? Roleplaying as my handyman, was fun I must admit.”
“Told ya,” he pressed another kiss against your temple as he carried on,” doesn’t have to be anything crazy but roleplaying can be fun from time to time.”
You turned back around just enjoying the closeness of your husband’s body pressed against yours. “Mmh.”
It had been his idea to try something a little bit more elaborate in bed for your anniversary. His best friends had actually kind of encouraged him with this, which was why you were so reluctant to try, at first. As you said, at first you’d been very sceptical but you couldn’t really say no to Sy, so you promised to try something on your special day. The little details he poured in to make it feel even more real, astounded you.
Thinking about it, the red pickup truck sprung back in the forefront of your consciousness. “Wait, one question…that red pickup, whose is that?”
You felt him chuckle, “Ah, that. Yeah I might have borrowed it from Walt.”
“What? Walter? Like in Walter Marshall?”, you were so dumbfounded that the detective, out of all his friends would drive such a car, that you turned around in Sy’s arms, to check if he was joking.
“Yeah.”
“What do you mean yeah? It’s red, as far as I know he’d never…”, he interrupted you, “Ah that, yeah, he made a mistake orderin’ it or somethin’.”
Sy moved his arm, so you could lie your head down comfortably on his bloated biceps.
“Okay, well at least that makes sense. More than him intentionally picking out a red car anyway.” You settled back, eyes closed, satisfied with how your special day hand gone so far.
Until one more burning question popped up and you reopen your eyes. Tilting your head back to take in Sy’s relaxed face, having closed his eyes as well. “That song? You know the one that played when you got out of the car?” Apparently amused by your line of questioning, his lips turned up into a smile. Without opening his eyes, he mumbled back, “Yeah what about it?”
“I never heard a song as crude as that? And I never heard you play it, ever?”
One of his flaming blue eyes blinked at you, light crinkles forming around it as he smiled still,” Don’t wanna rat anyone out. But ya know, August sent it to me today and I thought I’d give it a try.”
It was your turn to snigger,” Of course, who else. Do you only have lewd guy friends?”, ending your question on a snort.
That had Sy open his other eye as well, both showing his clear amusement,” Well, ya know, you’re the one that married me, darlin’. What does that say ‘bout you?”
Making you laugh,” True. Also I think life would be a lot more boring, without our knuckle-headed friends.”
“Sure thing.”
After a short pause, he put his other arm around you, pulling you into a more comfortable embrace, “I love you, darlin’.”
Completely content, you let your tired eyes fall shut, whispering back,” I love you, too.”
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Summary: On his way to Skellige, Geralt realizes he isn't the only passenger. Mid-Ocean a woman who has been hiding right under the captain's nose is discovered.
Pairings: Geralt of Rivia X Fem. Reader
Warnings: 18+, MDNI!!!, dark themes, threatened rape, violence, blood, biting, fluff at the end, teasing, cursing, P in V
Word Count: No idea (had to type all that on my phone)🙊
A/N: Wanted to write again, took me long enough (sorry, life has he crazy for some time). Hope this is something you’ll enjoy. If so Reblogs and comments are much appreciated. As always any mistakes are my own. Thank you and enjoy!❤️✨
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Geralt had traveled a lot in his lifetime. Though he definitely had a few means of travel that he liked better than going somewhere by ship. For instance it was always hard for him to find a captain willing to take a Witcher on board and the crew giving him glowering stares at all times, wasn’t particularly pleasant either.
But he had to go to Skellige for a job that sounded a bit too good, to be true. Apparently there was something that terrorised a village near the cost. The catch, he didn’t really know what creature it was, but it paid so handsomely he couldn’t pass that opportunity up.
So here he was looking over the railing, frowning. He could feel it, sense it even, the weather (now sunny and warm), would soon turn. And he dreaded talking to the captain about it, because he’d had so many conversations about exactly that, and no one ever listened. All of them always said something along the lines of, “ What? You are tellin’ me how to sail!? A Witcher, no offence,” and they always meant offence,” but what does a horse riding, demon like you even know about the sea?” Always getting angrier when he tried to explain. Ending always the same way, him being in the brig until they needed him back on deck, as said storm was wreaking the ship.
Whorsesons the lot of them. He sighed, knowing he would still try to convince the captain. Just as he was about to head to the man, there was a turmoil beneath deck, that he decided to check out.
Though he didn’t get the chance, as five men came up the stairs, trying to hold a wildly struggling woman by her arms. While she shrieked,” Let go of me. You pathetic excuses of….”
The captain having immediately been alerted by the ruckus, interrupted crudely,” My, my what do we have here?” A disgusting smirk painting his face.
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When you heard his question, your eyes fell on his lewdly smirking face. The second you stopped struggling for a bit, the two men holding you by your arms, dragged you closer to the captain, so you were directly in front of him.
You sneered, when one of the crew members reminded you, “The captain asked ya a question, lovey!”
Through clenched teeth you seethed, “He knows damn well who I am!”
That seemed to surprise the crew, expectingly looking towards the bearded man, who tilted the head before deepening his yellow teethed smirk, “ ah yeah that’s right. Aren’t ya the birdie, that wanted to board my ship. But what did I say again? Remind me, love?”
You wanted to wipe the disgusting smirk off his stupid face, struggling against the hold again while barking back,” You said no, but …”
He interrupted once more, “Is that right? I said no…and yet here you are? Expecting a free voyage, is that it, lovely?”
You had it with this disgusting man, without further ado you elbowed the man to your right, in the face with such ferocity you heard a crack and then he keened loudly, letting go of your arm at once. The other men couldn’t hold you back either as you punched him square in the face. Just as you were about to attack the captain, a strong hold around your waist held you back.
Immediately renewing your struggle to get free, you kicked and hit the man, though he didn’t even flinch. A wall of muscle against your back. When you head butted him, he growled agitated, “ Stop that. Calm down, or do you want to be thrown over board?”
Sucking in a few sharp breaths you stopped flailing about, as it didn’t do anything anyway.
“Now let me go,” you hissed. And to your surprise, he did.
You stepped closer to the captain, who at least had the decency to no longer smile,” You fucking bastard. Thought you could steal my money and still not let me board your stupid ship?!”
To your dismay he resumed the revolting smirk from before,” What can I say, a lost little birdie at sea just didn’t sound right! So I removed the risk of said birdie takin’ flight.”
You couldn’t believe your ears, this man not only robbed you but freely admitted to the crime. Your whole body trembled with the suppressed rage traveling through every vein of your body, as the crew laughed loudly at your misery.
Fists clenched at your side, you glared at the man, venom in your voice, “Well great, now that we cleared that up. There is no reason for me to not help myself to a splendid meal. Because you see, I more than paid for that service. Haven’t I?”
The laughter died down, “Listen here lovey, as fun as all that was. You can’t make a damn demand at all, what will ya do? Shriek at me until I cave?” More laughter.
“So as I see it, ya boarded my ship. Without permission may I add. And I’m pretty sure that calls for punishment. And being the captain and all, I can decide what punishment I seem fit.”
He stepped forward, but you retreated not wanting to be so close, now that your rage had passed it had been replaced by ice cold fear.
“Ah I see now, you get it don’t ya? You are clearly outnumbered love, no?”
Your heart hammered in your chest, as you took a step further away from the captain and his crew. Brain nearly going into overdrive, thinking about what you could do, to escape.
Jumping over board seemed to be the only option though it would clearly mean death. You were out at least two days until you’d reach Skellige. Then your back collided with the wall of muscles from before and you flinched violently when his hands landed on your shoulders.
Unexpectedly he didn’t hold you for long, he quickly pushed you behind him, shielding you from the other men.
You stared at his broad back, he had two swords strapped to it. His hair was a stark contrast to his black amour, it was unusually white. His deep voice, made you shudder pleasantly, when he spoke,” Now as I heard it, her board on this ship was more than paid for. So let’s settle again, shall we!”
Why was he taking your side, for all he knew, you could be lying.
The captain’s prompt reply, answered your silent question,” Ah master Witcher, I don’t think this is a matter that concerns you. Why don’t you go back to brooding in that corner?”
A Witcher…so that’s why he didn’t side with the captain immediately. While you admired him wanting to help, you doubted he could. He was just like you, clearly outnumbered. So you half expected him to do as he was told.
The Witcher didn’t move though, just stood his ground rather calmly as far as you could tell. The next order from the captain made you flinch,” Ah so I see. You’ve made your decision. Well what are you waiting for? Get him!”
Then the Witcher growled,” You don’t want that!”
They didn’t listen, at least three men stormed towards you, swords at the ready. You retreated so far back you couldn’t go any further, as the railing’s edge was cruelly digging into your lower back. But before even one of the men reached the Witcher, he had unsheathed his sword so fast, you didn’t even have time to process his movement.
Then he whirled to the left, at neck breaking speed, side stepping the first attacker and with that same motion beheading the man. You were completely frozen, as blood suddenly splattered across your face.
The next two men were just as easily eliminated. Three more followed, they didn’t stand a chance. The Witcher fought with such force that one crew member couldn’t even hold up his sword and it clattered on ground noisily. Signing his death sentence.
When a seventh man was about to follow his comrades, the shrill panicked voice of their captain rang through the deafening sound of the fight,” STOP! Stop PLEASE,” the Witcher lowered his sword slowly,” Oh Master Witcher please stop….Please enough. I now see, I see I was wrong. I won’t interfere with your business or the…the girl. She’s all yours. All yours I promise.”
You wanted to laugh, at the audacity of that man. You weren’t property and you certainly weren’t the Witcher’s. Whose name you didn’t even know. But you were in too much of a shock, to say and do anything really. You were still pressed against the railing looking straight ahead at the back of the white haired Witcher, as he sheathed his sword and turned around.
The Witcher noted you hadn’t moved even an inch, blood had splattered across your otherwise lovely face. As he drew closer your eyes finally landed on his.
Ember eyes with slitted pupils already rested upon you, taking your frozen form in, from head to toe. He opened his mouth but thought better of it and simply offered you an outstretched hand.
Your gaze shifted down slowly, staring at his hand for way longer than you’d intend. Though he just patiently waited and then you rested your much smaller hand in his.
His hand closed around yours and easily pulled you away from the railing. Everything about him seemed massive. From his hand, to his broad shoulders to his burly arms.
A keen sense of safety suddenly spread through you. Knowing for sure nothing would happen to you on this ship.
This time he addressed you, voice much gentler,” Alright. Let’s get cleaned up.”
You managed a nod, and he lead you once more below deck. Taking extra precautions to go around the bodies so you didn’t have to look at them.
Once you were alone with him in his somewhat surprisingly spacious cabin, he made you sit on a stool.
“I’ll be right back. Just need…well a rag.”
He looked at you, unsure if he should leave you alone right now, because you still hadn’t said a word. But he reckoned you’d feel a bit better once the blood on your face and blouse would be gone. So he decided to be quick about it.
He stepped out of the cabin again, leaving you alone with your thoughts.
A Witcher. You’d never met one. Heard of them, yes but…well what you heard didn’t really cut it. What you had just seen him do, was… You didn’t know what it was, but you were more in awe than in shock. Sure the blood wasn’t great but it wasn’t shocking either. You were just glad he’d saved you.
When he returned you still sat on the stool, looking a little less in trance though. He was carrying a view rags, a bucket with water and what looked like a linen sack.
“Erm…here you go,” he laid the sack next to you on the bed,” don’t know if they fit but…”
Oh, not a sack something to wear then.
“Thank you.”
He seemed taken aback for a second by your sudden verbal acknowledgment. Simply nodding at you and handing you a rag, putting down the bucket beside you.
You took the rag and dipped it into the water, before rubbing it across your face. The Witcher sat down on another stool, opening his chest armour eyes still resting on you.
Once you deemed yourself clean enough you stood up, taking the bucket and another rag with you, offering them to him.
As he started cleaning his own face and amour, you asked,” I don’t even know who I thanked?”
He stopped what he was doing, before answering,” Geralt of Rivia.”
“Well Geralt of Rivia, thank you for saving me. I-I don’t have coin to repay you. But I c-could…mmh.” You came up short. You didn’t know why you had brought it up in the first place, as you said you couldn’t repay him. And didn’t really have an alternative either.
Thankfully he only seemed a bit amused by your rambling,” No need.”
“But you…I….without you. I have to repay you…I-I know I could um mend your clothes? If you…want to?”
You guessed his clothes had seen better days and you were actually quite handy with a needle.
Geralt raised his eyebrow, “ Do they look that shabby?”
Thinking you had offended him, your eyes grew round and you made a face that he could only describe as cute, as you tried backtracking,” What? No-no I just thought maybe…,” to your surprise his lips curled up into a half smile, letting you know he was just jesting, and you let your worrying stop right there.
Shaking your head while smiling back,” Didn’t know Witchers had a sense of humour.”
That had Geralt actually let out a low chuckle, warming your insides with his deep rumble,” You’d be surprised.”
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The next two hours flew by quickly. You had told Geralt your name after you both had changed into somewhat “cleaner” clothes.
You thought you looked ridiculous, the linen under shirt was way too big and nearly reached your knees. While the breeches didn’t look any better. Though they were dry and free from blood, so you weren’t about to complain.
Once you’d stopped chatting, you began to notice how the ship didn’t seem to sail as smooth as before. It moved quite a bit up and down now that you were paying more attention.
Geralt had long since known a storm would come, but he wasn’t too worried, as the ship was sturdy and the crew seasoned enough to handle a small storm. (Also he really didn’t want to leave right now.) Though he sensed your heartbeat picking up, once you were aware of the waves moving the ship this way and that.
You stood up and right then a massive wave hit the ship, you tumbled to the side, though Geralt with his inhuman reflexes caught you in his armes before you could hit the ground.
Embarrassed you felt your face growing hot, as you stuttered,” O-oh I’m so so-rry.”
You turned in his armes, facing him and placing your hands on his chest to push out of his hold, but he wouldn’t budge. Your eyes flying to his handsome face, “I…erm, Geralt?”
The intensity of his gaze took your breath away, your heartbeat picking up tremendously at having such a good looking man well… Witcher so close. Suddenly you didn’t want to leave his embrace, actually quite the opposite.
He slowly let his eyes roam across your face, stopping at your lips, then his gaze flickered up to your eyes again, asking, begging for permission.
You felt yourself nod nearly imperceptible, but he caught the movement, gently pulling you even closer so you had to crane your head back. Then his lips brushed yours, so gentle it felt more like a light breeze than a kiss.
Wanting more, you placed one of your hands against the back of his head pulling him in for a longer kiss. His deep hum, making your thighs clench with impatience.
His lips moving in perfect sync with yours, as if you had done nothing but kiss him these past years. When he pulled away so you could breathe, he immediately placed butterfly kisses against you jawline, stopping to nibble at your earlobe.
Lowly growling against you, “You sure you want this?”
Every cell of your body wanted this, him. So you pulled him down, to half moan, half whisper into his ear, “Need you Geralt.”
That pulled the deepest growl from him yet, overwhelmed by your mouthwatering scent.
“Fuck…”
Without further ado, his big hands grabbed your behind, a surprised squeak leaving your lips, as he easily lifted you up. You quickly crossed your legs behind him, pressing your crotch against his. Jaw clenched he grunted, because you had stared to purposely rub yourself against his ever growing bulge.
“You really need this, hmm?”
Geralt’s eyes fully focused on your face, and the wildness behind those pupils, the want were a mirror of your own.
Just as you were about to reply,” I aah…”, he suddenly moved and pressed your back into the wooden door. The rough impact taking your breath away.
His hips rocking forward, searching for the heavenly feeling of your body.
“Mmmh, what was that? Didn’t quite catch what you were saying?”
You pressed your hand into his nape, so you could pull him closer, lips touching his ear as you whimpered as needy as you could,” Please, Geralt. Need your big…big cock inside me please….”
His hips jolted so hard into you, for a second you worried that the wooden door would splinter. Though you were to preoccupied to really dwell on it.
“Is that right? What a dirty little mind you’ve got…”, he was smirking, and you noticed his sharp incisors, making your thoughts run wild with what he could do with them.
He placed one of his big paws over your chest, while his other started wrangling your breeches of. Apparently that was too much effort, and a loud ripping sound, alerted you to the fact he’d completely destroyed your breeches.
The giggling just bubbled up as you looked at him in wonder,” How….I…well who’s desperate now?”
He nipped at your throat, “Not my fault when you smell so good.” As if to underline his point, he pressed his nose into the crook of your neck, inhaling deeply.
Now he nearly had unobstructed access to your dripping centre. Your fingers dug into his back, when he cupped you through your undergarments. Though he didn’t stop there, quickly pulling them aside. When two of his fingers breached you, you hissed slightly at the stretch.
Your head hit the door with a loud thunk, as you threw it back, because his thumb circled and tabbed against your clit with such precision you saw white for a moment.
He chuckled meanly, spreading his fingers and scissoring them in and out, slowly stretching you. Your own hands clawed at his shoulders, withering into his touch, hips starting to ride his fingers in earnest.
“That’s it, fuck…take what you need. So wet and all for me,” the blatant desire in his voice made you shudder.
His cock jumped at your mewls. Clearly enjoying your pleasure as if it was his own. Though he slowly grew impatient, once he was able to add a third finger, he deemed you ready.
“Hold on tight,” he grunted. You did as you were told just in time, as his hands left you to finally free his cock from his confinement.
You whimpered loudly when it sprang free and the head touched the sensitive skin of your outer lips.
Geralt gently touched his forehead to yours, one hand holding onto your waist, near breathless, he asked,” Ready?”
“Yes, please.”
You more felt than saw his grin, as he growled deeply,” Mmh so polite.”
Then his cock head nudged your dripping slit, you swallowed thickly, feeling just how big he really was. He tilted his head a little to the side, trying to see your face and gauge your reaction.
You bet that you looked already debauched, his ember eyes flitting over your face, trying to read you, suddenly dirty smirk pulling his lips apart,” Aww don’t worry. It’ll fit….”
You moaned lowly, as he let his cock slide back and forth through your wet folds. Then growled into your ear,” I’ll make it fit…”
And with that he’d started pressing inside, your eyes flying open wide, as you felt him breach your slit.
“Mmmh you….I….”, you mewled.
His hands around your waist crushing, you were sure you’d feel his grip tomorrow still.
“Sh, sh. That’s it, let me in. Relax. Deep breath.”
As your lungs filled with air, he let gravity do the work, slowly filling you with his massive cock. Your inner walls struggled taking him in. Though the burning stretch quickly gave way to a deeply seated fullness that felt all consuming.
As he had said, he somehow made way. His knuckles white with the suppressed want, it took everything within him to not ram himself inside you in one violent thrust. You not only were a lot tighter than he had anticipated but the soft mewls constantly leaving you, combined with the most alluring scent he’d ever smelled, really made it an Herculean task.
He was nearly bottomed out, when your whisper reached his ear,” G-Geralt.”
Instead of looking at your face, his eyes were fixed on your drooling cunt, clenching around his monstrous cock, when he grunted,” Yeah?”
“Your hands…could you, could you loosen your grip a little?”
That made him blink in quick succession as if waking up, he immediately loosed his grip around your waist. Feeling terribly guilty for hurting you, he met your gaze all apologetically.
Though what he saw made his breath stutter, you didn’t seem to be in pain, your pupils were blown out and a sweet little smile painted your face.
He raised a brow, silently inquiring why you’d asked him to loosen his grip, when you were clearly enjoying yourself.
When you lifted yourself up slightly, just to slam yourself down quickly, he suddenly understood why.
You’d wanted control of the pace, because gravity had apparently been too slow and not just for him.
He moaned loudly, as your snug cunt enveloped him completely,” Fuuck, you little minx. Mmm…so tight. Wanted to pick up the pace, huh? Well let me assist you.”
You couldn’t stop the screech, when he pulled out until only his tip remained inside, just to bottom out again in one violent thrust.
“Arrgh….fuck Geralt,” you cursed at him, though he was already in the middle of the next violent thrust, deeming you speechless.
Lazily and yet with perfect precision Geralt canted his pelvis in a way that made you squeeze him so tight, he cursed and pressed you harder against the wooden door behind you. Repeating strong thrust after thrust. Making your belly do somersaults, every time he pushed his way into your dripping cunt.
His name fell from your lips like a mantra with every new trust. Clinging onto his back desperately. The movement of the ship long forgotten with all the burning desire spreading through your body.
“That’s it…doing so well. You’re already close, aren’t you?”
You were barely coherent enough to actually understand, when he rolled his hips again, thickest part of his cock stretching you so deliciously, the only noise leaving you was a quiet whimper.
Geralt’s thrusts grew more rapid, slamming into you without abandon. Your pussy tightened up around him like a vice, though his sudden speed doesn’t decline.
“Yes…yes Geralt…I…I…”
His sharp smile looks more wolffish than before, when he grits out,” That’s it just like that. Come for me…”
And as if that had been the magic word, your walls begin to spasm around his cock, pure ecstasy written all over your face.
In your orgasm meddled mind, you don’t notice the burning sensation until Geralt’s face pulls back from your neck and a bit of red paints his lip.
Just the thought of his mark on your neck for all to see, makes you come again. Eyes falling shut, his thrusts drawing out your second orgasm like no one had before.
“Oh fu—uck, did you just-? Come again?!!”
The barely there nod you give him, is enough to drive him into a frenzy, taking, taking what he deserves. By now you are a bit overstimulated but in the best way, you are not even sure you want this to end.
Though his movements become more jerky. Geralt glances down, seeing your juices run down your thighs, is what pushes him over the edge. His big paws grip you tightly and his hips snap into you one last time, finally a burst of warmth begins to fill you. A loud sigh leaving you as you feel his cum.
He stays inside you a moment longer before he slowly withdraws with a quiet growl.
His warm eyes crinkle, smiling at you.
“What?,” you breath back, not able to hide your own smile.
He laughs softly,” You look absolutely breathtaking.”
You swat at his biceps, making him laugh more,” Oh you are only saying that, because you were just inside my cunt, you big oaf.”
Still grinning he carefully sets you down, “Mmh. No I just haven’t had time to say it before.”
Shaking your head you can’t help but grin right back.
Then your eyes widen comically, he looks amused still, “What? I’m telling the truth.”
You swat at his outstretched hand,” It’s not that. I oh my…..,” you face heating up ,” I…need the water bucket again I think…”
Teasing you a bit more he steps closer, “Yes? And why is that?”
You glower at him, though without real heat,” Oh you know…just get the bucket.”
He winks though doesn’t push it further and finally goes to get the bucket, but not without the quip, “Yes, m’lady.”
If you had any strength left, not used in holding you upwards, you would have thrown something at his head, but you don’t, so you just quietly curse at him while trying to hold yourself upright. The ships movement now registering all the more.
When he’s standing in front of you again with a cloth and the bucket, he is still smirking, that bastard,” What a foul mouth on such a beautiful lady.”
“Give me the cloth, you…”
“Oaf?”, he finishes for you, though holds the cloth out of reach. Instead to your surprise he kneels down, carefully lifting one of your legs and placing his and on your hip to stabilise you against the door. Just as you are about to ask, what he thinks he is doing, he dips the cloth into the water and gently begins to clean you.
You don’t know how to react, he does it so nonchalantly as if this is a normal occurrence for him. He is so careful with the cloth and his movements, your heart squeezes with thankfulness.
Once he is done, he places your leg back down from his shoulder and stands again.
You are still staring at him with wonder, now it’s him asking,” What?”
You laugh,” What do you mean what? I…just didn’t expect you…to be so-so gentle. And the aftercare is quite…well…sweet.”
For a moment his golden eyes flit across your face, then he rumbles,” Mmh. That’s just the beginning.”
Geralt’s arms close around you, easily lifting you up and carrying you to the bed. Before letting go, he leans down, lips pressing against yours in a soft kiss.
When he pulls back to clean himself, you think to yourself: you could definitely grow used to this.
When he joins you in the bed, he pulls you close, wrapping his strong arms around you. Drifting off into sleep never felt this safe.
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Geralt normally doesn’t particularly like cuddling, but for some reason he really craved holding you in his arms. Making you feel safe.
Content he smiles down at your sleeping face, pulling the blanket over your bodies. He is sure the storm wouldn’t be disturbing you at all, you were out like a light. And with him holding you, there was no possibility of you accidentally falling out of bed either.
He made a promise to himself that moment, he’d protect you, stay by your side until you’d arrive wherever you wanted to go in the first place.
He settled in with a contented sigh, lulled—and slightly annoyed—by the waves rocking the ship back and forth. Though even if he wouldn’t fall asleep, he’d enjoy having you in his arms, clearly feeling at ease in his presence.
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(Complete, link for the first part, down below ⬇️)
Summary:
It’s the middle of summer and therefore incredibly hot. Of course right then something had to be wrong with your AC. How fortunate for you that a handyman can come right over…
Pairing: Syverson x Short Fem. Reader
Warnings: 18+, MDNI, cursing, explicit description of sex, thirst trap named Sy, teasing, size kink, chasing?, choking (if you squint?), p in v (use of y/n = Your first name)
Word count: 3K
A/N: Okay here goes my first attempt at writing smut…This is way longer than I intended it to become, whoops. Honestly this just came to me while stumbling over a song (aka the title of this specific fic 🤣). Also I think this reads a little like a bad porn video SORRY…but anyway….here goes nothing🙈😅….
It’s not proofread, any mistakes are my own. Please be kind, comments/reblogs are very appreciated…Thank you❤️✨
!Syverson is not my own creation (unfortunately)! And the song/lyrics don’t belong to me either!
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(In case you’ve missed PART 1)
PART 2
Sy was caught off guard but only for a second, then he set his body into motion. Like a raging bull he chased you up the stairs, not even three steps behind you. Hearing his thundering footsteps approaching and fast, you squealed.
You turned to your left, throwing your bedroom door open, darting into the room without stopping. Sy was right at your heels, bulldozing into the room so close behind that he simply tackled you onto the huge bed. Making you fall, face first into the soft mattress, which smothered your surprised shriek. His body covered you wholly, making you feel even smaller underneath his massive frame. Lying there and trying to catch your breath, you swore you felt him harden against you.
Well truth be told he finally had you where he so desperately wanted you.
Reluctantly he let you up enough, so you could turn around, now facing his bearded face which had carnal hunger written all over it. “Caught you…Now, what am I gonna’ do with you darlin’?”
Seizing the opportunity you grabbed his head and pressed your lips against his. Sy reciprocated immediately, grabbing your hips and pushing you up and against him. Hissing into the kiss once you crossed your ankles behind his back, gently rocking your hips. He let go of you, in favour of crawling on all fours up onto the bed; so he could lie his whole body down comfortably, while you clung to him.
Sy let your back slowly down onto the mattress, whereas you were still rubbing your drenched centre against his cargo shorts, surely leaving a wet spot. Only now coming up for air from the heated kiss you two were sharing, you breathed,” Fu-uck, please Sy I need you. Mmmh,” ending on a mewl, because he decided to rut against you right then. The unexpected pressure, stimulating your clit just like you needed it.
“Right with ya…” he rumbled. Without further ado, he took a hold of your flimsy dress and pulled it off, over your head, throwing it onto the floor.
Now his big sweaty body was towering over you, making you feel all small vulnerable, wearing only your white bra and matching panties.
That changed, as Sy’s lips attacked your neck at once, making his way down to the valley of your heaving breasts, all the while his beard scratched your soft skin in the best ways. Struggling to lay still, you squirmed at every kiss he pressed against your own sweat drenched skin.
You felt divine under his rough fingertips as he grabbed your lush thighs, opening your legs wider, so he could continue kissing down your body. Naturally you let your legs fall open, uncrossing your ankles, and digging your fingers into the bedspread. Sy stopped when he reached the waistband of your panties, both his hands splayed over your rib cage, fingertips lightly grazing your breasts beneath your bra.
Liking over his lips while resting his bearded chin on your stomach he looked up, where your eyes met. As blown out as his pupils were at the moment, you could only see a small ring of his normally bright blue eyes. “You look beautiful,” he rasped. Smiling down at him, you sat up slightly so you could gently run your hand over his head then down to cup his chin. “Mmh I’d say the same, but I can only see your handsome face so far,” you answered just as affectionately.
Sy understood you right away, almost falling off the bed, in his hurry to get undressed. Somehow he still managed not to.
Back on the bed, only wearing his briefs, you admired his bare, hairy chest pulling him down for another heated kiss. His body hair, lightly scratching over your smooth skin, ensured that you felt every inch of him even more intensely.
Moaning into his mouth, as his tongue invaded yours and began to explore you thoroughly. Breaking the kiss to demand what your aching centre needed most. “Please, just…need you.”
“Bet you’re soaking wet for me, aren’t ya? Wanna have a taste first.” Shaking your head no, he looked at you expectedly, when you didn’t elaborate he continued, “Darlin’ use your words, what do you want?”
“I…just…I need you now. Next time you can…you know,” stumbling over your own words already, even though he hadn’t done much yet, was an enormous boost for his ego.
He thoroughly enjoyed making you squirm, so he smirked, “Next time I can what?”
It was your turn to glare at the amused man kneeling between your legs. Impatiently you snarled, “For fuck’s sakes, if you don’t get to it, right now…I promise that you’ll never get a taste!”
Sy’s smirk only widened in response, then he suddenly pulled you down by your ankles, until you lay on your back. “Still gotta prepare you though.” With one swift movement he yanked your ruined panties down and off your legs. Making you mewl at the sudden air hitting your bare heat. He looked down, hungrily staring at your sopping folds. “On second thought, you don’t need much preparing, do ya? Could probably slide right in.”
Feeling a little embarrassed at how turned on you had become, you tried hiding your face in the pillow. “Ah none of that darlin’. Wanna see your face, when I make you come.” His hand gently turned your face towards his, smiling softly down at you. “That’s right, eyes on me, y/n.”
Sy didn’t let you protest any further, as one thick finger slowly dipped between your folds. Running down to your clenching, dripping hole. Without warning he pushed two of his fingers inside, stretching you deliciously and making you bow your back, gasping. “Nnhg…”
“That’s a good girl. Takin’ my fingers so well.” To ease a bit of the tension in his own briefs he tried adjusting the tent within. Exhaling heavily when you clamped down on his fingers, hard. You couldn’t help it, having caught a glimpse of his huge tent. Well huge was still somehow an understatement, but you trusted that Sy knew what he was doing.
He cupped your pussy and at the same time spread his thick fingers, stretching you carefully. Making you chase the friction of his palm against your little pearl. He started moving his fingers in and out of you, though at the slowest pace know to men. In an attempt to get him to go faster, you bucked against his rough hand, trying to spur him on. “Please, need more. Please Sy.”
For the first time today, he quit his teasing and plunged a third finger in, moving them a lot quicker than previously. He had you moaning in no time, falling apart on his fingers. Sy managed to hit that special spot dead on, every time his fingers stretched your warm canal. “Yeah right there. Right there, don’t stop….” You felt it, your release was just around the corner, starting to tremble. Just as you were ready to see stars, the hand between your legs disappeared.
Your eyes snapped open, enraged that your orgasm had been stolen from you, you sat up, “What…no…why I was nearly there!?”
That smug fucker just sat back on his heels, sucking his fingers into his mouth and liking your juices off. The obscene slurping sounds he made while he enjoyed tasting you, had your insides feeling like liquid lava.
Deliberately slow he pulled his fingers back out, wiping them on the bedspread, staring you down with his sapphire blue orbs. Mirth and lust equally displayed within those same eyes, “Delicious. Also I ain’t let you come, unless it’s on my cock, understood?”
Too stunned to answer you gaped down, as his cock twitched within his briefs. Instantly a hand grabbed your neck, pushing you back down onto the mattress.
Startled by the sudden roughness, both your hands wrapped around the muscles of his sturdy forearm, looking up at him. Sy rumbled, “Do you understand?” His deep thundering voice paired with the hand lightly choking you, made you repeatedly squeeze around nothing. Craving his touch all the more, now that he wasn’t going to use his fingers to get you off.
“Yes. Yes I understand.” His hand let go, as did your hands, letting them relax next to your head. He was rather pleased with your response, so he let his enormous paw wander behind your back, nimbly opening your bra and getting rid of your last barrier.
Not being able to hold back any longer he took off his own briefs, throwing them on the ground as well. You looked absolutely breath-taking, lying completely bare before him, innocently looking up. Then your eyes fell down, gasping at the erect thickness between his thighs. Sy smiled proudly, promptly beginning to slide his own hand up and down his shaft. Where at the tip a drop pre-cum had already formed.
You watched and whimpered, “Please, please…”, wanting nothing more than to have is cock stretching you to your limit.
Not wanting to wait any longer himself he climbed between your legs. Cock in hand he tapped it lightly on your swollen clit, reducing you to nothing more than a squirming, whining mess.
Then he finally had mercy on you, brushing over your drenched opening once, twice and then he dipped inside. Holding your breath, as he fed inch by inch of his monstrosity into your tight little cunt.
“So fu-ucking tight.” He pressed through his teeth, hands digging into your sides to hold you in place and to make moving forward easier. Sy wasn’t even halfway in and you already felt incredibly stuffed. Every nook and cranny was filled up.
Apparently the last bit of his patience had run out, because he tilted his hips back and trusted forward with such force he sheathed himself to the hilt. You whimpered, arms now slung around his torso and fingernails digging into his back, making him grunt in return.
“Sh-shh that’s it, nice deep breaths darlin’, you’re takin’ me so well.” Closing your eyes, you tried concentrating on his soothing words and the gentle motion of his hands running up and down your sides, to prevent becoming overwhelmed by the fullness.
At last your pussy began pulsing, little by little growing accustomed to the way he stretched you so ridiculous far apart.
Sy noted your face slowly relaxing under his ministrations, but he’d wait until you gave him the go, and only then would he move.
When you thought it didn’t feel like he was splitting you in half anymore, you opened your eyes. He was looking at you intensely, blue eyes seemingly melting as his right hand reached up, caressing your cheek. “Are you alright? We can stop if it’s too much,” he whispered leaning down, to be yet closer to you, meaning every word he just uttered.
Your hands glided up, over his shoulder blades and to his head, pushing him down further so you could kiss him again. This time it was a slow sensual kiss, without haste just feeling the other’s lips and moving in tandem. Once you separated from each other, you whispered back, “I’m fine…and don’t you dare stop now, when I conquered your mighty beast.” His dark chuckle send vibrations down to where you were intimately connected, making you sheer crazy with need.
“Well then let’s see if you truly conquered it, shall we darlin’?” Sy snatched you up, gripping your behind and pressing you impossibly closer to his body. You crossed your ankles behind his back anew, holding on for dear life as that bear of a man pulled all the way out just to ram back into your tight, hot tunnel. And just as you thought he couldn’t go any deeper.
He repeated that powerful motion again and again. Resounding groans breaking free from his mouth while yours gaped open, letting whine after whine escape you.
Sy nuzzled your neck, making you hear and feel every one of his delicious grunts and lewd comments. You weren’t even able to respond, let alone string more than two words together at the moment.
He repeatedly fucked his massive cock inside your pussy, keeping his pace like a sledgehammer. “That’s right, made for my cock, darlin’.”
You just needed a little push and then you’d undoubtedly fall over the edge. As if he could read your mind, the hand that wasn’t grabbing your rear, smoothly slid between your dripping bodies.
As soon as his hand reached its destination, rubbing circles over your clit, the band within you instantly snapped. Gushing around him, your legs shaking, clamping down on Sy’s cock. “Aaah fuck, that’s it Darlin’, come for me.” His grip on your ass, turned near bruising, slowly but surely losing his pace and rhythm.
Wanting to get him off, just as hard as he had you; you clenched your slightly oversensitive cunt and purred into his ear,” Yeah, so deep, please… come inside me.”
“Fuck…”, that did him in and with one last stroke, you could feel his seed filling you up. His body all taunt for a second before he relaxed. Sy kissed the side of your neck, as the last bit of his cum entered you. He let out a deep sigh,” You were…that was…,” struggling to find his words, he lifted you off of his cock. Continuing to muzzle your neck and placing soft kisses on your skin. Now lying outstretch on your back, you could feel his seed spilling down your pussy, making you shiver slightly.
“Mmmh yeah that was amazing, I agree.” You answered his unfinished sentence, a smile creeping onto your face.
Eyes closed, you felt the mattress dip as Sy moved off the bed. You heard the tap running, when he returned, you opened your eyes. He’d a washcloth in hand, tilting his head in question. Nodding at him, he carefully brought the cool cloth between your legs, cleaning you and removing your conjoined fluids. Once he was done, he sat it down on the nightstand to be put away later.
“Love, could ya scoot over a little?” Worn out, you rolled sluggishly to lay on your right side, still just as naked as him. The mattress dipped again, as Sy snuggled up behind you, spooning you with his overheated body.
“So how’d ya like it?”
Turning slightly in his arms, to look at the smug expression he wore on his face, you mumbled,” Mmh well, I was a bit sceptical at first. But you? Roleplaying as my handyman, was fun I must admit.”
“Told ya,” he pressed another kiss against your temple as he carried on,” doesn’t have to be anything crazy but roleplaying can be fun from time to time.”
You turned back around just enjoying the closeness of your husband’s body pressed against yours. “Mmh.”
It had been his idea to try something a little bit more elaborate in bed for your anniversary. His best friends had actually kind of encouraged him with this, which was why you were so reluctant to try, at first. As you said, at first you’d been very sceptical but you couldn’t really say no to Sy, so you promised to try something on your special day. The little details he poured in to make it feel even more real, astounded you.
Thinking about it, the red pickup truck sprung back in the forefront of your consciousness. “Wait, one question…that red pickup, whose is that?”
You felt him chuckle, “Ah, that. Yeah I might have borrowed it from Walt.”
“What? Walter? Like in Walter Marshall?”, you were so dumbfounded that the detective, out of all his friends would drive such a car, that you turned around in Sy’s arms, to check if he was joking.
“Yeah.”
“What do you mean yeah? It’s red, as far as I know he’d never…”, he interrupted you, “Ah that, yeah, he made a mistake orderin’ it or somethin’.”
Sy moved his arm, so you could lie your head down comfortably on his bloated biceps.
“Okay, well at least that makes sense. More than him intentionally picking out a red car anyway.” You settled back, eyes closed, satisfied with how your special day hand gone so far.
Until one more burning question popped up and you reopen your eyes. Tilting your head back to take in Sy’s relaxed face, having closed his eyes as well. “That song? You know the one that played when you got out of the car?” Apparently amused by your line of questioning, his lips turned up into a smile. Without opening his eyes, he mumbled back, “Yeah what about it?”
“I never heard a song as crude as that? And I never heard you play it, ever?”
One of his flaming blue eyes blinked at you, light crinkles forming around it as he smiled still,” Don’t wanna rat anyone out. But ya know, August sent it to me today and I thought I’d give it a try.”
It was your turn to snigger,” Of course, who else. Do you only have lewd guy friends?”, ending your question on a snort.
That had Sy open his other eye as well, both showing his clear amusement,” Well, ya know, you’re the one that married me, darlin’. What does that say ‘bout you?”
Making you laugh,” True. Also I think life would be a lot more boring, without our knuckle-headed friends.”
“Sure thing.”
After a short pause, he put his other arm around you, pulling you into a more comfortable embrace, “I love you, darlin’.”
Completely content, you let your tired eyes fall shut, whispering back,” I love you, too.”
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Taglist:
If you're interested in being on my taglist, please let me know! And if you want to be taken off (my taglist), feel free to tell me! ❤️✨