#sundayheat

[borealwrites]

So. Uh. This is my first time doing this, though I’ve done Flash Fiction Friday before. I hope this is all correct, haha.

@sunday-romance

Fandom: The Witcher

Pairing: Eskel/Jaskier/Geralt

Rating: E

Content Warnings/Triggers: Scar mention. Hopefully nothing else, see kinks below.

Kinks: Body worship. Mild biting. This piece juuust toes the line (in my opinion) with some mentions of arousal, so I didn’t feel comfortable tagging it as SFW.

In My Dreams

Soft lips press against Jaskier’s neck, even as another pair slowly make their way down his chest, showering him with kisses like the brush of butterfly wings. He tries to arch up into it, but four hands hold him down with ease; two on his arms and two on his hips. It’s easy to relax into their comforting grip, the sword calluses and scars as familiar as his own skin. The rasp of stubble against his stomach makes him shiver in delight, a sigh of contentment falling from his lips.

There’s a deep chuckle in his ear before slightly sharp teeth gently nip at his lobe, scars rubbing his face as Eskel, for it must be him, steals Jaskier’s lips for a deep kiss. Not to be outdone, Geralt lightly bites at Jaskier’s hip, his teeth barely pressing down before he goes back to covering Jaskier in kisses. Surrounded by his two beloved witchers, Jaskier is content to lay there and let them worship him. There is no fiery need consuming him, just soft and gentle pleasure.

Geralt’s hands slowly slide down to Jaskier’s thighs, pressing open-mouthed kisses to the expanse of flesh, being so careful to leave it unblemished, though Jaskier wouldn’t mind a few marks. He sighs and moans into Eskel’s mouth, only to whimper when Eskel pulls away, his quiet chuckle a puff of hot air against Jaskier’s lips. Then there are lips on his cheek again, careful little nibbles down the column of his throat.

He can’t concentrate on that for long, because Geralt is pressing lips to the inside of his knee, strong hands holding Jaskier’s knees up, resting them on broad shoulders. Behind him is Eskel, his strong and warm arms wrapping around Jaskier, one large hand splayed across his stomach while the other rests on Jaskier’s chest, gently thumbing his collarbone.

Surrounded by his witchers, Jaskier lets himself relax. Here he is warm, safe, and loved. He is in no rush, simply content to be held.

*

Jaskier awakens slowly, morning light finally drawing him from his haze of pleasant dreams. He is alone in the bed; Eskel and Geralt have been up since the sun rose, and their spots on the bed are cold. His skin still tingles from the dream, and it’s so easy to imagine that his lovers were with him only moments before.

Sighing softly, Jaskier gets to his feet. Just like everyone else he has duties in Kaer Morhen, and cannot spend all his time in bed. The lingering warmth of the dream will keep him motivated until tonight, when his beloved witchers are by his side again.

[sunday-romance]

Week 44 - If Tomorrow Never Comes

@odysseywritings​ - Love and Life Before The End

[kainablue]

I still think of you

~ Sunday Romance - Week 21 ~

Last minute yet again! Is this my signature now? Anyway @sunday-romance​ here’s my entry (and a moodboard!)

WC // 722

WIP // The Insanity Underneath (Boyfriend to Death fanfic - dm me for link)

Pairing // Iris King x Vincent Metzger

TW // profanities; mention of sex; mention of torture

I take out my cigarette pack. As I light my only stress-reliever, a sharp, abrupt whistle breaks my moment of peace and self-care. Who the fuck whistles in the middle of— Oh. I don’t know how I did not predict this. It makes perfect sense. Of course he wouldn’t just leave. Of course he wouldn’t just turn around and find another road to traverse.

Vincent stands below my window, his hands tucked in his pockets, looking rather pissed. That leather jacket can’t be enough for this cold November morning. He must have forgotten how far up north he is. Dumbass.

He gestures with his hand to join him. I wiggle a negative response with my index finger. He shakes his head before repeating his signal in a more distinct manner - like I didn’t understand him the first time. You can’t boss me around anymore, jerkface. Irritated, I flip him off again. With a scoff he places his index and middle finger on both sides of his mouth and sticks his squirming tongue out.

I hated, I really hated the fact I could feel that wiggle between my legs.

I should… leave.

As I throw my cigarette butt through the window and push myself away, he shouts: “Let’s talk, kiddo. You owe me that.”

The fuck did he— Did he say… owe? The nerve!

“I don’t fucking owe you anything, asshole!”

“Hey now, I’m only asking you to talk with me. For five fuckin’ minutes. That's all.”

“You wanna talk? Here’s a talk: fuck you!”

“You’re being ugly.”

God, I wish I had a gun right now!

As I pace up and down the corridor, unable to find any way to vent, Vincent adds: “I can hear you squeal like a spoiled brat all the way down here. An adult woman throwing a hissy fit.”

Frustrated, annoyed, mad beyond words, I launch, grab the window sill and spit on him. I regret my action immediately, but at least I was surprisingly precise. My chest swell from gloating when he moved so he could not be hit with my projectile. 

“Real piece of work, Miss— Oh, my apologies - Mrs. Iris.”

“Stop talking and go away! “I wipe my lips, worrying if someone heard my yelling.

“Not gonna happen. Not until we talk.”

“I’m done talking to you!”

I slam the window shut and retreat to the opposite wall, away from him. Out of sight, out of mind, right? And it was like that - for almost ten years. Well, eight. Actually five - give or take… Shit, who am I lying to. My knees buckle and I end up on the floor. I am out of my mind. I always have been. He was never too far from my mind. Never too far.

I remember everything so clearly like it happened yesterday. I was really bored that evening and decided to look for trouble. The pool hall was near my apartment at that time. I got dressed and headed out there. Route 66’s crooked sign lit in hellish red light. I remember the stench of old leather and unwashed bikers’ armpits stuck to every corner of that building. Every man and woman scanned me from head to toe. They quickly noticed my tits and ass squeezed underneath the King Diamond t-shirt and tight jeans. Their faces spoke for them - they knew why I came there and they all wanted a slice of that cake. 

I really wasn’t going to be picky. I just wanted to drink for a while, browse the meat and choose the right piece for the night. But Farz decided he didn’t like the way I breathe, I guess. Little twerp. However, thanks to him, I met Vincent, the bar co-owner and bouncer. His arrogance was unparalleled. It didn’t take us long to hit it off and leave the place.

In his apartment we had a good fuck. Real good. And then… I saw something I shouldn’t. Oh, how an innocent little mistake can turn a one night stand into a kidnapping. Happens to all of us, doesn’t it? I remember what he did to me. All of it. And he did it for days. Every smell, every sound, every pain, every pleasure, every spoken and unspoken word got etched into my mind. 

Those wounds never healed. Not even after 10 fucking years.

[adie-dee]

Sunday Romance Week 2

My entry for @sunday-romance​. No trigger warnings and probably belongs in Sunday Love more than Sunday Heat, but i’ve tagged it as Heat because i’m not entirely sure. Anyway, enjoy this Blake & Bethany short.

I was in a hurry. Blake would be here soon and I needed everything to be perfect, so I lit all the candles scattered through my room and turned off the light, then stood back to admire my work. 

I frowned, sucking on my bottom lip. Something was missing. This wasn’t enough, it wasn’t romantic enough even though I’d cleaned up all my clothes and made the bed and everything, and it took me a moment to work out what it was lacking. 

Fairy lights. Of course. 

The combination of candles and fairy lights made my room sparkle, bringing a smile to my face. That was better. I had the perfect room, perfect outfit, and perfect plan for what should hopefully be a perfect night. 

I headed into the bathroom to do one last hair and makeup check, fixing my lipstick and fluffing my hair until they were both perfect too. Even my timing was perfect, as just as I finished I heard the front door open. 

I ran back into the bedroom and threw myself on the bed. Blake!” I called, laying on my side in what felt like a seductive pose. “Come here. I have a surprise!”

It seemed he didn’t need to be asked twice as my bedroom door opened immediately.

“Why hello,” I said in my best sexy voice. 

He stood frozen in the doorway, staring at me incredulously. “ I hate you,” he sighed.

I ran my hand up my leg and side, feeling the soft fur beneath my fingers, then posed once again when I brushed my hair back from my ear. “No you don’t.”

“I do.”

My eyes dropped to his pants and I grinned. “You really don’t. Are you going to join me?” I patted the bed as I spoke, inviting him to come close.

“Not until you take off that fucking monkey onesie.”

“Oh?” I pretended to be surprised. “You don’t like it?”

“Nah.” His grumpy face returned, though I could see he was trying not to smile. “Can’t believe you’re trying to turn me on wearing that.”

“Why, is it not working?” I jumped off the bed and bounced over to him, running my hands up and down his chest then stopping at his zipper. “Feels like it’s working to me.”

His jaw tensed. He was trying so hard not to laugh, but his little mouth twitch gave the game away, and I wondered just what it would take to get him to lose that control.

I kissed his neck, feeling his pulse quicken under my lips, and slowly worked my way up to his lips. He kissed back, forceful and hungry, one hand in my hair while the other moved from my hip to my side to my breast.

And then to my zip.

I pulled back from him.

“Bethany…” he was pleading now, face flushed and eyes dark, and I very nearly gave in. “It has to come off…”

“No it doesn’t! Look!” I turned around and he snorted with laughter. “Buttflap!”

“Are you wearing anything underneath that?”

I looked at him over my shoulder and smiled at the sight of him staring at my bare arse. “What do you think?”

He tackled me to the bed.

[drbibliophile]

Sunday Romance 9-20-20

@sunday-romance 

This one turned a little hotter, so putting it under the #sundayheat tag.  Kyra and Jared are back.  

Word count:  785 

TW: No one actually does anything, but there’s mention of oral sex m/f receiving, masturbation, use of toys, penis in vagina sex, sexting.  

Kyra tucked her hair back behind her ear.  She glanced at her ringing phone and smiled.  “Well hello there.”  

“Hey.”  Jared sighed.  “I miss you.”  

“Miss you too.  How’s the job going?”  

“It’s a job.  Getting done as fast as I can.”  

“Good.”  

“Doesn’t help me when you send me texts like that.”  

She grinned, knowing exactly what texts he meant.  “Texts like what?”  

“You know which ones.”  

She leaned back against her couch.  “Enlighten me.”  

He growled, making her smile harder.  “Kyra.”  He dragged out her name in the same when he was annoyed with her.  A part of her loved it when he did.  “You know.”  

“I send you a lot of texts, Cap.  Which ones are you referencing?”  

She could see him narrowing his eyes.  “Oh, you so know which ones.”  

“Whatever makes you think that?” 

“Because your grammar becomes pitch perfect when you’re being a pain and you know it.” 

She giggled.  “Does it now?”  

“Yes, and you know it, so stop please.”  

“Stop what?”  

“Stop the texts.”  

“You don’t want me to send you texts at all?”  

He groaned.  “No.”  She could see him shaking his head.  “God, you’re such a pain.”  

“And yet you love me.”  

“And yet I love you.”  He sighed.  “It’s hard to concentrate on work when you text me like that, sweetheart.”  

“Text you like what?”  

“You know like what and yes, you do, and no don’t ask me which ones.  The ones that are for my eyes only.”  

“Oh.”  She shifted in her couch.  “So you want those texts to stop?”  

“Yes.”  

“Sure you want them to stop?”  

There was quiet on his end.  “I feel like I shouldn’t say yes.”  

“Maybe.  Just want to be sure that you don’t want me sending you texts about how much I miss you and your mouth against mine?”  He didn’t answer.  “About how much I want your lips on my skin, your tongue on my breasts, making my nipples so hard and hot in your mouth?  About how wet I get thinking of taking your cock in my mouth, sucking you, licking you, caressing you until you come?”  

“Kyra.”  He drawled out her name again.  

She wet her lips.  “Or how much I want that mouth of yours on my pussy, kissing me, sucking me, licking me?  How I need your fingers on my clit, then your tongue, then your whole mouth until I’m crying your name out because I’m coming so hard?  Or maybe I should stop letting you know how much I want your hard cock inside me, pounding me, filling me so fucking good that I can’t think or move or breathe, just feel you fucking me so damn good?  Should I stop doing that?”  

He let out a long breath.  “No.”  

She smirked.  “Didn’t think so.”  

“Christ, you do know how to drive me crazy.”  

She laughed.  “Well, I’ve had a lot of experience at that.” 

He laughed.  “That you do.”  They fell into a comfortable quiet.  “Christ, I really miss you.”  

“Me too.”  She sighed.  “And of course now I’m just horny thinking of you.”  

He chuckled.  “Are you now?”  

“Yes.  May have to invite Bob over.”  

“Thought we sent Bob on his way.”  

“You wanted to and I thought about it.  Then I realized that if you’re going to go abroad for two or three weeks at a time, I was going to need Bob because while my fingers do fine in a pinch, you’ve kind of ruined me for orgasms and only Bob gets me something satisfying.  So he stayed.”  

“I see.  What if I could get you something better?”  

“Something better than my favorite vibrator?” 

“Eh yeah.”  

“And what would that be?”  

“Open the front door.”  

She frowned, but dragged herself off her couch and headed for the door.  The three square windows across the top revealed someone was there, someone with dark hair and just the right height to be… She slammed the porch light on, flipped the locks, and yanked open her door.  Jared stood there, that knowing grin on his face.  He hung up on his phone.  

“Hey,” he started.   

“You’re back.”  

“Your texts were highly motivating to get the work done swiftly.”  

“Thought you wanted me to stop texting you like that.”  

He drew her against him, edging them both into the house.  He closed the door behind them.  “Momentary insanity.”  He kissed her, hard, sweet, and so damn good.  “Told you that you drive me crazy.”  

She grinned, her lips still against his.  “So I do.”  

He smiled even as he locked the door.  “And now it’s my turn.”  He edged her towards the stairs.  

“To do what?”  

He grinned.  “Drive you crazy.” 

[sunday-romance]

Week 29 - I Dare You

@pen-for-sword​ The Challenge

[sunday-romance]

Week 30 - In My Dreams

@borealwrites​ - In My Dreams

[kainablue]

I hate you

~ Sunday Romance - Week 2 ~

Hello @sunday-romance​ here’s my entry! And it’s as naughty and angsty as we like it 😉💦

WC // 787

WIP // Howl of the Blood 

Pairing // Tayena Viogor x Ino ai’Izusa 

Context // Elemir is a very jealous man. And he dislikes Ino more than any other romance option. I imagine this scene happening at one point if you choose to pair Tayena with Ino.  

TW // strong language, masturbation, fantasizing about other people having sex, self-harm

Elemir grabs a pitcher full of water and pours it over his head. It is freezing cold so the biting shock sliding down his skin surprises him. A shout escapes and - instead of being short and abrupt - it prolongs into a low growl. But it has nothing to do with unexpected sensation and Elemir can't suppress it anymore. 

Young knežević raises his head to the night sky, placing his hand on his face, pushing the pain back down his throat. Finally, after long moments of losing himself in that sound, he sighs. It feels good to let out the fury that was building up bellow his heart. For a brief moment, it was good - but now it is back. The vexation. The rage. The hate. The envy.

She chose him. That wolf-man. That... creature.

And this is yet another night he took her hand and guided her into the woods. Into silent and private dark.

"Fuck!" This time pain is articulate, but pokes directly into his heart, bruising it like a punch. He dunks the pitcher into the barrel, filling it up, and splashes himself, hoping for a bit of temporary release. The cold water is not cold enough this time. 

Elemir runs his hands through his wet hair, pulling it, trying to stop those haunting thoughts by distracting himself with pain.

"I should... I should play something," he mumbles, "Yes, after washing, I should find..."

A path they are treading together. Probably hand in hand.

"Zviko. H-h-he will surely want to gamble."

He touches her hair, her lips. He kisses her. He...

"Stop it!" 

Elemir takes the sponge and rubs his naked body so harshly he winces. Abrasions and redness paint his skin while he tries to erase what invades his mind with physical pain. But the images still appear.

She has no clothes on her anymore. He caresses her breasts, the curve of her hips, her thighs. So slowly... 

"Fuck..." Elemir leans on the wall, needing some support. 

His mind keeps torturing him without mercy with these visions as clear as ice. How that Wolk kisses her. How he bites her tender flesh. How his fingers slip into her mouth and then slither down her torso, through her bush and finding their way into her warm insides.

Elemir groans when she sighs with pleasure. When she moans and whimpers. Exactly how he imagined she would sound for him. Why does his mind torment him so? Even his body is betraying him! His chest is charging with anguish and his throat with bile - but his dick fills with blood and is now hard and throbbing. How can he feel this unhealthy concoction of wrath and arousal? What madness is this?

The visions are so powerful, so intoxicating, he starts stroking his cock. A bitter taste of shame floods his mouth, but he can't stop. Still leaning on the wall, naked, wet, feverish, he imagines the love of his life on the ground, blushing and ready for pounding. The worst part is... by whom.

Even when he sees those clawed hands on her toned stomach, or strands of black hair gliding down her neck and breasts, he doesn't stop jerking himself. It's like he's an animal in heat, without any control. He is angry, sad, frustrated - and yet all those hot emotions are being pumped into his hand and cock working hard to provide him with some joy amid this insanity. He doesn't even fight the vision anymore. He closes his eyes so he could imagine them with more clarity. He could almost hear them, taste them, touch them.

Elemir faces the wall so he could hold his trembling body. He soon starts panting, twitching, sweat and water dripping from his body into a pool around his feet. Why can't he stop? Why?

Behind his eyelids, Tayena is a mass of moaning, writhing, pink flesh. She is begging to be fucked harder. Elemir's hand moves faster and the figure with her speeds up, too. The whole scene sickens knežević and arouses him even more. Moments before climaxing, Tayena shouts a name. Not his name. A very different one. The shadowy figure on top of her takes shape - slim figure, black hair, wolf ears and tail - and eyes yellow like purest gold. Ino.

"FUCK!"

With the same hand that was wrapped around his cock just a second ago, Elemir hits the wall. He almost breaks his middle finger. Pain isn't enough to pull him back from the edge. After blinding pleasure, he is left in the filth of his own twisted imagination.

"I hate you, you bastard!" He pants, gritting his teeth, miserable and furious. "I hate you so much."