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lusi2020-06-08 05:31 pm
decoctions) wrote in lusi2020-06-08 05:31 pm
Entry tags:
(open) wind's howling
● WHO: geralt & all
● WHAT: event open post, closed starters, & monthly catch-all
● WHEN: throughout june
● WHERE: anywhere!
● WARNINGS: sex, aphro, violence
i. wind's howling. (rain)
[ When the rain starts, Geralt is glad he'd had the forethought to weatherproof his little campsite. It comes in starts at first, at times even while the sun is still shining, but when the storm really rolls in, it pours nonstop from the darkened sky. There's so much water all at once that Geralt worries about flooding, but the soil seems to be porous enough, thankfully, to soak up much of the water. Still, it means an uncomfortable day and night of hunkering down to wait out the weather.
Used to living outdoors, Geralt accepts it as an inevitable inconvenience; he's got blankets, a mattress on a tall (if shoddy) bedframe, a fire built in one part of the half-collapsed building he's set up in, and makeshift canvas tarps laid out on the floor and beneath the roof of one of the more intact rooms. Roach, his horse and such a constant in his life that the Augur had apparently thought to bring her here with him, is tethered near the fire to keep her warm and relatively dry.
Out of necessity Geralt ventures out at least once while the rain is heaviest, retrieving a bucket he'd put out to collect clean water for both himself and Roach and pluck up some of the grass that's already started to sprout for her to munch on. If anything could convince him to brave this miserable weather, it's caring for his horse.
But he isn't the only one out. Eyes narrowing to see through the gloom and the water cascading from the sky, Geralt approaches. ]
You trying to catch your death out here?
[ His low growl might be hard to hear over the pounding of rain against the ground, so he gets closer, nodding his head back in the direction of his camp. ]
Come on. Got somewhere warm to sleep, if you want.
ii. after the storm (plants, love darts)
[ There is plenty to be done in the aftermath of the rain. Shelters need to be repaired, supplies need to be gathered, and all of this new growth of flora needs to be investigated. With a pretty extensive knowledge of flowers, plants, root, and berries, he's looking for anything that might be familiar or prove useful, whether to create decoctions, blade oils, simpler poultices, or just to eat. A lot of the plants, especially the flowering ones, are entirely new to him. Given his experiences so far he hadn't exactly expected to find a whole lot he'd recognize, but some of these things are so strange-looking that he has to take his time examining them.
Footsteps nearby make him turn instinctively toward whoever might be drawing closer, and as he moves, so does the plant he'd been looking at. Whether with a cloud of pollen, a spray of nectar, or the shooting of a sharp burr, Geralt stumbles back a step with a snarl. ]
Shit. Careful.
[ It's as much a self-admonishment as it is a warning. He has no idea what these things are capable of. While he's immune to most known poisons and toxins, that doesn't mean he won't have a really bad time of it anyway if something proves to be particularly concentrated.
The effects of these plants are varied, from a simple but fast-acting aphrodisiac dart to a nerve-stimulating pollen that draws pleasure out of even the simplest touches to a nectar that brings out baser instincts. ]
iii. wildcard
( open to robot fights--with planning!--and options for other plants apart from passionfruit. open to gen for all, smut for characters 21+. if you're going for smut and we haven't discussed it already, please pm or leave a comment here so we can iron things out. )
● WHAT: event open post, closed starters, & monthly catch-all
● WHEN: throughout june
● WHERE: anywhere!
● WARNINGS: sex, aphro, violence
i. wind's howling. (rain)
[ When the rain starts, Geralt is glad he'd had the forethought to weatherproof his little campsite. It comes in starts at first, at times even while the sun is still shining, but when the storm really rolls in, it pours nonstop from the darkened sky. There's so much water all at once that Geralt worries about flooding, but the soil seems to be porous enough, thankfully, to soak up much of the water. Still, it means an uncomfortable day and night of hunkering down to wait out the weather.
Used to living outdoors, Geralt accepts it as an inevitable inconvenience; he's got blankets, a mattress on a tall (if shoddy) bedframe, a fire built in one part of the half-collapsed building he's set up in, and makeshift canvas tarps laid out on the floor and beneath the roof of one of the more intact rooms. Roach, his horse and such a constant in his life that the Augur had apparently thought to bring her here with him, is tethered near the fire to keep her warm and relatively dry.
Out of necessity Geralt ventures out at least once while the rain is heaviest, retrieving a bucket he'd put out to collect clean water for both himself and Roach and pluck up some of the grass that's already started to sprout for her to munch on. If anything could convince him to brave this miserable weather, it's caring for his horse.
But he isn't the only one out. Eyes narrowing to see through the gloom and the water cascading from the sky, Geralt approaches. ]
You trying to catch your death out here?
[ His low growl might be hard to hear over the pounding of rain against the ground, so he gets closer, nodding his head back in the direction of his camp. ]
Come on. Got somewhere warm to sleep, if you want.
ii. after the storm (plants, love darts)
[ There is plenty to be done in the aftermath of the rain. Shelters need to be repaired, supplies need to be gathered, and all of this new growth of flora needs to be investigated. With a pretty extensive knowledge of flowers, plants, root, and berries, he's looking for anything that might be familiar or prove useful, whether to create decoctions, blade oils, simpler poultices, or just to eat. A lot of the plants, especially the flowering ones, are entirely new to him. Given his experiences so far he hadn't exactly expected to find a whole lot he'd recognize, but some of these things are so strange-looking that he has to take his time examining them.
Footsteps nearby make him turn instinctively toward whoever might be drawing closer, and as he moves, so does the plant he'd been looking at. Whether with a cloud of pollen, a spray of nectar, or the shooting of a sharp burr, Geralt stumbles back a step with a snarl. ]
Shit. Careful.
[ It's as much a self-admonishment as it is a warning. He has no idea what these things are capable of. While he's immune to most known poisons and toxins, that doesn't mean he won't have a really bad time of it anyway if something proves to be particularly concentrated.
The effects of these plants are varied, from a simple but fast-acting aphrodisiac dart to a nerve-stimulating pollen that draws pleasure out of even the simplest touches to a nectar that brings out baser instincts. ]
iii. wildcard
( open to robot fights--with planning!--and options for other plants apart from passionfruit. open to gen for all, smut for characters 21+. if you're going for smut and we haven't discussed it already, please pm or leave a comment here so we can iron things out. )
no subject
His head tilts slightly at the first touch of fingers against his jaw, then turns over and up as that grip firms. He barely has time to draw another breath before Gladio's mouth covers his, kissing him like he needs it, sliding his tongue past his lips with a hunger that more than makes up for any slowing of his hips.
Geralt is glad to reciprocate. His tongue pushes back against Gladio's, coaxed easily into his mouth with lips pressed together hard enough to really feel it. He puts pressure on the back of Gladio's neck with his grip, urging him down, closer.
His cock bounces against his belly with each thrust, painfully hard and largely untouched. With one hand free, Geralt slides it between their bodies, giving his heated length several firm tugs. It's less an attempt to get himself off than it is just to relieve some of that ache, but it causes an immediate reaction. His muscles tighten and his hips jerk as pleasure crackles through him, and he pants against Gladio's mouth. ]
no subject
He bucks into him, clinging onto the witcher with his arms latched around his shoulders, another at his hips. He steals a breath of air between hungry, soft bites with his lips, breathing harshly. Long has he forgotten about the mare in her corner of the shelter, the openness of the structure itself with it's utter failure to give privacy so much as cover from the rain. He's too far gone to care, enjoying too much of the way the orange light from the fire plays on Geralt's ghostly and scarred skin, the way his eyes seem to glow when he has them open, how he swears he can feel him tighten up as pleasure grips him. Gladio presses his damp forehead to his and holds himself over him, grasping at his muscular thighs to keep him spread and open for him as he tries to give him room to work, allowing himself only one hand free to tangle in his white hair at the back of his head, holding him there as he watches him fuck into his body in a dizzying blur. ]
'm close...!
[ His voice is unsteady from panting and for every time he punctuates his words with a collision of skin on skin. He rears up, running his hands down his chest, past his wolf head medallion as he slows his thrusts as he seeks to catch his breath through his nose. Grasping at the place where his thighs and hips meet, he pulls Geralt closer, sliding his own knees beneath him as he angles his hips and lifts them above the ground, then begins to fuck him again -- pounding into him in hard, thundering thrusts as he grips his legs. ]
no subject
When Gladio grunts his warning, it's tempting to pull him back in, crush their mouths together again and feel Gladio's weight over him, pressing him down as he fucks into him. But the flex of his muscles and the rolling motion of his hips are distracting, and Gladio is chasing his release with fervor.
Geralt's legs spread wider around his waist as he takes a firm hold on his hips, dragging him up off the ground in an attractive feat of strength Geralt rarely experiences with his bed partners. The shock and thrill of it courses electric down his spine. He steadies himself with a hand on Gladio's bicep, an anchor against the hard, demanding pace of his thrusts. The hand around his cock strokes to match the rocking of Gladio inside him, and the synchronicity of it makes his head spin, pleasantly dizzy. ]
Yeah, [ he rasps, ] fuck, come on.
comes back to this waaaay too late, life is being unruly
Each thrust he feels the tension in him unspooling as he empties his newfound lust for a man he's only just met. The relief and euphoria makes him momentarily giddy as his hips stutter mid-thrust, bowing over him and hovering just off center as he rides out his climax. ]
Ungh, fuck...!
[ The groaning word empties the last air from his lungs and he sucks a breath sharply back in, humming as he feels his cock pulsing out his release. Between thrusts, Gladio lets out a startled moan as the snug hole he buries into becomes slippery, his cock gliding deeper into Geralt and intensifying his orgasm. He manages a few more before the sensation overwhelms him, leaving him riding out the rest of those waves with short, mincing shifts and trembling muscles as he braces himself over Geralt on the floor. ]