#crushcandles

[littlestsnicket]

I must know more about sad barely sex!! Please & thank you!

i thought i was basically done with this, but @soymimikyu very kindly beta read it and said it was good, but reminded me i seemed to have uh, themes and stuff i got half way through exploring and dropped, so i need to re-edit. hopefully it won't take too long.

hallucinatory claudia watches some sad loumand (soft)cock warming under the cut

Armand looks up through his lashes. Frightened resin eyes. Waiting to be something. Whatever he thinks Louis needs or will accept. His lips part slightly. Seductive, intentions clear. 

“Fuck you, you don’t get to ask me for that.”

Anger flashes across Armand’s face so quickly, Louis might believe it was never there in the first place if it wasn’t for the charge of static that lingered against his skin. Armand’s dropped his gaze in contrition, shoulders tense with anxiety. Like Louis holds the cards here. Like Armand can't just take whatever he wants. It’s not true, but Armand believes it, right up until some other instinct kicks in and he doesn’t anymore. Neither of them like to be reminded of that.

“Please, Louis. Let me be of service to you.” Armand’s voice is so soft, so scared, so desperate. Louis can feel Claudia judging him, but he doesn’t push Armand away. 

He waits and waits and waits. Until Armand is shaking with it. Until he can smell the copper-tang of Armand’s tears. Louis doesn’t want it. No. That’s not really true. He didn’t, but Armand crying, even just the hint of it, gets Louis going even when he knows he won’t rise to the occasion. He wants Armand kneeling and subservient with a cock in his mouth. Louis doesn’t really want that cock to be his, but he couldn’t stand for it to be anyone else’s now, either. 

“Fine, if that’s what you want,” Louis says, and Armand looks up at him, eyes wide and watering like a kicked puppy.

[likecastle]

Cold sheets + ronance (please! xoxo)

I was going to write something sad for this, and then I remembered that I could just write smut LOL Thank you for this, dear @crushcandles! I hope you enjoy it! Thanks to everyone who's already sent me Stranger Things femslash prompts! I've already got a few more lined up, but please keep them coming! Explicit sex behind the cut. No serious warnings, although if the thought of someone putting their whole body weight on top of you isn't for you, maybe give this a miss. Also I guess it kind of vaguely counts as temperature play?

Robin wakes to find that the other side of the bed is still empty. When she slides her hand across the sheets, they’re cold under her fingers. If she listens carefully, she can hear the clatter of Nancy’s typing from the living room. So she’s still working, then, at—Robin squints at the luminous display of Nancy’s alarm clock—two-thirteen A.M.

Robin groans into her pillows and reaches blindly for the covers, which seem to have wandered off while she was asleep. The bedroom is surprisingly cold, the air raising goosebumps on the bare backs of Robin’s thighs. She rubs one socked foot against her ankle and whines. It’s not that it would be difficult to get up and pull the sheets off of the floor, it’s just that she’s loathe to give up what little warmth is left between her body and the mattress. Still half-asleep, she can’t stand the thought of getting all the way out of bed to retrieve the sheets, only to climb back in and find they’ve lost their last vestiges of heat. She’d much rather lie here and feel sorry for herself that Nancy’s not here to warm her up—just for a minute or two.

“OK?”

Robin cranes her neck to look over her shoulder, and can just barely make out Nancy standing in the dark doorway of the bedroom. She’s wearing Robin’s stretched-out old IU sweatshirt, which is oversized even on Robin, almost comical on Nancy.

“’S cold,” Robin mumbles, her sleep-muddled complaint coming out petulant.

Robin can practically hear Nancy’s amusement at her expense, but she just hunkers down against the mattress and says, “Someone should come warm me up.”

A moment later, the mattress sinks down beside her, and then Nancy is pressed against her back, so warm she’s almost a brand on Robin’s chilled skin.

“Like this?” Nancy murmurs into Robin’s hair.

“Mm-hmm.” The weight of Nancy’s whole body is delicious, pressing her hips against the mattress.

Nancy dips her head to nuzzle Robin’s neck and says, mock-saccharine, “Did you miss me?”

Robin whines again—pathetic in a different way, this time. “Uh-huh,” she says, and squirms a little for good measure.

Nancy laughs, and then slips one hand between, Robin’s body and the sheets, past her hip, finding the seam of her with unerring precision. “Is this what you want?” she breaths against Robin’s ear, her voice husky, not teasing anymore.

“Yeah,” Robin gasps, jumping under Nancy’s touch.

Nancy doesn’t hesitate after that, working Robin’s clit roughly in the tight space beneath her body. It’s unbelievable how fast Nancy can turn her on. Robin wasn’t even thinking about sex a minute ago, and now she’s aching for it, so eager for Nancy, and, fuck, it’s good, as she rocks her hips into Nancy’s touch, their combined weight bearing her down against the quick, sweet movement of Nancy’s fingers.

“Feeling warmer now?” Nancy asks, and all Robin can do is nod, sweating where Nancy’s breasts are pressed against her back, and slick between her clenched-together thighs. Her breath comes in shuddering gasps, flaring humid across the sheets. She feels wrapped up in Nancy, held, lit from the inside.

“I’ve been thinking about you all night,” Nancy breathes as she leans down to kiss Robin’s neck. “Kept telling myself that when I got to a stopping point, I’d come in here and wake you up so I could fuck you.”

Robin sobs, her cunt hot and tense under Nancy’s touch. Every inch of her skin tingles, and she feels sure if someone were watching, they’d see sparks crackling where she’s rubbing against the sheets.

“I can’t believe how good you looked, all sprawled out on the bed like that, waiting for me,” Nancy continues. “Almost makes me want to leave and come back, just so I can admire you some more.”

Robin fucks her hips back against Nancy’s hand, desperate for even more friction. “Nancy, please.”

“Please what?”

How can Nancy’s fingers move so quickly? Robin’s head is spinning, her hips trembling. “Please, please,” she gasps. She can’t remember what she was supposed to say.

Nancy’s breath is hot against her cheek. She’s hot, she’s so hot, she’s going to die of it, she’s sure. “Did you want to come?”

With a desperate shudder, that’s exactly what Robin does, a hot, slick clench against Nancy’s fingers, hips jerking helplessly. She feels Nancy buck on top of her, almost thrown off Robin’s back by the intensity of the tremor that shakes her.

“Oh, fuck,” Robin gasps, when she can breathe again. Nancy is still touching her, lazily now, with none of the wicked intent of a moment ago, just appreciating how luxuriously wet she is. “Fuck, Nance, you’re so good to me.”

Nancy kisses her hair, breathing in deep the scent of her sweat. “Not too heavy? Want me to get off of you?”

“Not yet,” Robin says, though her eyelids already drooping. “Just a little longer.”

[yolki-palki]

Inspired by When He Comes Tell Me That You'll Let Him In by @crushcandles

Consider this my love letter to the content you've created. 💗

[mollymawkwrites]

Under the Rough prompts: "You broke my nose!" (I have to see where you go with it! Thank you!)

I did warn beforehand but... This 200 words drabble is not 200 words long. More fic for you, I guess?

CW: Explicit, mild injury, blood mention.

Going right under the cut because it's spicy!

The slap of skin on skin filled the room along with muffled moans and hushed giggles. Heat was the only thing between Jaskier and Lambert, the glorious friction of their naked bodies creating a brasier twin to the one in their guts. There was no ballad, no poem that could convey how every kiss felt like their first one, how every touch was more wonderful than the last, rediscovering with glee the familiar mounts and valleys of each other's bodies. 

Jaskier wished they had thought to feed the dormant fire in their room before Lambert had pounced on him, so he could have watched as his lover's hands roamed his chest, his stomach, squeezing and tickling as he pleased. The Witcher was by far his most handsome lover, despite what everyone seemed to think; the sharp line of his nose, the mischievous glint of his golden eyes, the surprisingly plump lips that Jaskier couldn't get enough of. All of that, Jaskier craved to witness as Lambert's noises built to a crescendo. 

But more than that, Jaskier wished he could see anything at all, sometimes unsure if what he was squeezing affectionately was a pec or an ab, and the confusion was made worse when Lambert spinned them around so that Jaskier was the one laid on the mattress underneath him. 

"Wait, the light," Jaskier panted, hoping Lambert would understand

There was only a dismissive grunt before Lambert returned to pumping Jaskier's cock, his heightened senses helping him to navigate in the dark. Rising to his elbows, Jaskier opened his mouth to catch his lover's attention again. Before a word could pass his lips, he was interrupted by a sickening crunch and a sharp pain in his forehead. 

Stunned, it took him a second to register the warm wetness over his face and a disgruntled groan coming from above him. 

"Lambert?" He asked, mildly panicked, trying to see whatever was happening without success. 

"Fuck, songbird," Lambert's voice came out strange. "You broke my godsdamned nose!"

The hand Jaskier thrust in reflex landed blindly on Lambert's face, meeting more warm fluid - blood, Jaskier realised, and recoiled. 

"Oh fuck, Lambert, I'm so sorry," he shrieked, not daring to move at all anymore. "I can't see anything here, I- are you okay?"

There was a silence, then a shift of weight in the mattress as Lambert moved. The world flared back to life into Jaskier's eyes, the candle melted on one of their bed posts lit with a careless Igni. 

Lambert's face was a mess of blood, the flow slowing, dark bruises blooming around the Witcher's eyes. His enhanced metabolism was obviously at work already, and he looked utterly miserable. Jaskier didn't even try to hold back a startled bark of laughter. 

"Why the fuck are you laughing at, you thick-skulled asshole?" Lambert frowned, provoking another round of helpless giggles. 

"You look… like a grumpy raccoon, my love," Jaskier gasped when his laughter stopped. 

He yelped when a hand wrapped around his ankle and dragged him down, splaying him back on the blood-spattered mattress. 

"You little shit," Lambert growled. "You owe me a fucking mind-blowing blow job for this."

Jaskier moaned, his wilted erection standing back to attention as he was kissed ferociously. 

The taste of blood flooding his mouth soon had him pull a face though, and he pushed Lambert away despite the Witcher's snarls and growls. 

"You need to fix that, my love, or you'll look like a rock troll on a bad hair day for the rest of your life."

He was given a dubious look, but didn't give in despite his very interested prick dribbling all over his stomach. 

Lambert sighed but sat back on his haunches, offering Jaskier a hand. "Okay, let's go wake Eskel. I don't want a word of this to Geralt, songbird, you hear me?"

Jaskier nodded solemnly, already planning to tell everything to his friend as soon as they would set on the path together in spring. 

[lesdemonium]

hello bonjour 🎶

cheeks are rosy like a boucher cherub i ain't happy, i'm feeling glad i kinda wanna throw my phone across the room you look like i need a drink i wanna wake up sober

jealousy, jealousy, olivia rodrigo | man's world, marina | finally feel good, james arthur | farewell wanderlust, the amazing devil | clint eastwood, gorillaz

Send me a ‘hi’ and I will put my playlist on shuffle, write down the first line of five songs and give it to you as a poem.

[crushcandles]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, The Witcher (TV) Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Jaskier | Dandelion/Original Female Character(s) Word Count: 11537 Additional Tags: Curses, Pining, Love Confessions, Friends with Benefits to Lovers Summary:

Jaskier runs afoul of the sorceress he spent the winter with and it has consequences for his relationship with Geralt.

[sirsparklepants]

For the fic questions meme: 16! 17! 19!

16. Any guilty pleasure trope(s)?

Not particularly, mostly because I like what I like in fiction and I don't feel the need to feel guilty about it. Uh, I like "tenderly bandaging wounds" as a sign of intimacy, and if I write a sex scene I generally try to subvert conventional expectations (Dom who likes to be penetrated, etc). Those aren't guilty pleasures, though, they're just things I like to write.

17. A trope you’ll never, ever write for.

Body swap. I hate it. It skeeves me out SO BAD. It's my biggest nope button and believe you me I have absolutely no idea why, seeing as I can read, like, possession stories fine and that's basically the same thing but with a horror spin. I don't need to understand it, though. I will never write that.

19. Do you prefer canon-compliant, AUs, or something in-between?

Canon-compliant, usually. If I write AUs, generally they're idle daydreaming or like "what if this character lived" type AUs. When I get into a piece of fiction I get really settled in that particular setting and I don't usually like to deviate, which is why the gig economy au shocked me with how it took over my brain. A lot of the time, I feel like characters are so shaped by their setting I can't adequately translate them and keep the bits I like the most. (That's not to say I won't read AUs, just that I don't generally write them.)

Fic writer asks!

[ceraunos]

The sentence ask meme: #8 in Misc. “But I’ve never told you that before.” The Witcher or Black Sails. Thank you! :)

ok so this got a bit out of hand. part one of chapter one is below, the rest of the chapter is on AO3, and there will be more. I... don’t know what happened.

Brittle grass snaps under twisting fingers, made tough by sun and heat, and all the things Jaskier’s bones have waited so long to know. He presses each curve of his spine into the dirt, and feels the earth press back until it sings through him. The late afternoon feels bronzed and slow, and even against the faint insistence of silver still stinging in his ears, fresh sweat sticking between his shirt and skin, and Geralt’s eyes trained curiously on him, he can’t bring himself to care enough to move yet. He opens his eyes and blinks against the not-yet-setting sun.

‘We can’t stay here,’ Geralt says, as blood dries at his hairline.

‘Sun’s almost down, they won’t be back. Although, what she was doing out this late in the day anyway I don’t know, you’d think a noonwraith would be a bit more punctual. Arrive at, y’know, noon.’

‘There’ll be other things, this whole village is a mass grave.’ 

Jaskier doesn’t miss the way Geralt touches a quick finger to the medallion around his neck. He’s been doing it a lot more than usual, lately, and something inside Jaskier twists with a wordless piercing for every press of skin to metal. 

They’re already far out of the ghost village before lights start to fill windows again, and even further before Geralt finally says,

‘I didn’t tell you they were noonwraiths.’

‘Huh,’ Jaskier mutters, and looks only towards the moon blooming on the horizon. ‘I must have picked it up from a story somewhere else, then.’

From the corner of his eye, he sees Geralt breath out a silent hum and sighs. 

Read more on ao3