Simon with sharp teeth from his mutations... Grace putting his thumb inside Simon's mouth and examining his teeth.... And sitting on his lap... Grace not realizing the intimacy of the moment while Simon is blushing like crazy bc Grace's thumb is in his mouth... That's all...
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Written for @thewitcherbog's teef week (another one yes... I have a problem)
Ship: Gerlion
rating: T
Summary: Dandelion is nervous before a competition, chewing and mouthing at anything he can get his hands on.
CW: Dandelion is non-verbal and big anxious
_
When Dandelion succumbed to his anxiety, he had a terrible habit of putting random shit in his mouth. More often than not it was his poor quill that suffered the onslaught of his mouth, the poet chewing at the feather in between mutterings of rhymes and stanzas. When he wasnât paying attention, Dandelion would chew the wrong end and be left with ink stains on his lips, smeared across his cheek. Geralt thought it looked unbearably cute although he had never actually told the poet, Dandelion would latch onto the fact and never let it go, and so Geralt preferred to keep his thoughts to himself on that particular matter.
That morning, Dandelion was chewing on the ends of his hair. The bardic competition was one of the most important of the year, and Dandelion was the reigning champion, a fact that he had mentioned countless times over the season. Whenever they had introduced themselves to strangers, villagers to kings, Dandelion would always give a deep bow, so that the feather in his hat brushed the floor, and then announced that he was:
âMaster Dandelion, troubadour and poet of the highest renown, and winner of Oxenfurtâs annual bardic extravaganza for three years running, you may have heard of me?â
It was pretentious, dramatic nonsense, but Geralt couldnât help but smile behind Dandelionâs back every time. The poet was so proud of himself and it warmed Geraltâs cold unfeeling heart.
But now all that talk was starting to bite Dandelion in the arse. Geralt had never seen him so nervous before a competition before. The poet normally meticulously took care of his hair, spending hours treating it with oils and magical ointments before curling it each morning, but instead he was biting at the ends and weaving small braids into the locks. He would surely regret it by the time it was his time to play, but as reigning champion, Dandelion was to perform last; that was the tradition.
âHey,â Geralt murmured, gently taking one of Dandelionâs hands in his, and pulling the lock of golden hair from his mouth.
Dandelion blinked, his eyes struggling to focus on Geraltâs face, and he slowly glanced down at their joined hands. Letting out a soft hum, Dandelion pulled Geraltâs hand into his mouth, gently nibbling at the skin between his thumb and forefinger, tongue flicking out to lick over the teeth marks he left behind. Geralt was dumbstruck, his breath knocked from his lungs as he watched Dandelion mouth and bite at his hand.
He seemed almost like a completely different person, vulnerable, small, subdued. Gone was the vibrant cocky bard persona that Geralt knew so well, and in his place was left a bundle of nerves and anxiety that Geralt just wanted to wrap up in his arms and take far away from the competition.
âYouâll be brilliant,â he said softly, bringing his free hand up to stroke along Dandelionâs cheek. âThere hasnât been a single performance that Iâve seen where you havenât outshone everyone around you.â
Dandelion just scoffed, biting harder on Geraltâs thumb, a warning not to lie.
âI mean it, Dandelion. Even at your worst, youâre still incredible.â
Another sharp bite to his knuckle.
âAnd even if you donât win today, youâll still be my poet, my best friend,â Geralt insisted, pressing his forehead against Dandelionâs. âNot even Valdo Marx can say that.â
Dandelion finally let out a soft melodic laugh, his lips moving from Geraltâs hand to the corner of his lips. Geralt could hardly breathe as Dandelion pressed a tentative kiss to the very edge of his mouth, his hard beating almost as fast as a humanâs. The kiss could have been one between friends, but it was a tease of something more, Geraltâs lips still tingling from where Dandelionâs had barely brushed against them. It didnât take much to turn his head, stubble brushing against Dandelionâs cheek as Geralt claimed his lips in a chaste kiss.
The tension melted away from Dandelionâs shoulder as he sank into Geraltâs embrace, sighing softly into the kiss as his lips parted under Geraltâs. His fingers dug into the crevices of Geraltâs armour, and as they pulled apart, Dandelion caught Geraltâs lip between his teeth, before pressing their foreheads together.
Dandelion didnât speak, but he softly bumped his nose against Geraltâs and Geralt heard the words left unspoken.
âYouâre welcome, Dandelion,â Geralt hummed and kissed him once more for good luck.
So it i ENTIRELY possible that I canât get enought of THIS!!! (click it! look at it! love it!)Â picture right here by @sad-cometâ and I felt a compulsion to write something about it and I really hope you donât mind! Your amazing drawing is living rent free in my head and I crave to put it in everybody elses too!
Please enjoy my sillyness and sudden teeth obsession!
On Ao3 here!
                    ~~*~~ Â
There are reasons Geralt doesnât smile much. There are reasons he wonât bring people with him on contracts if he can help it. Yes, potions might be part of the reason. Yes, there is a real danger for any onlookers of being maimed, or get ripped into pieces, or being gutted, you get the jist of it.
But the biggest reason is hidden behind his lips. Sealed behind a stern face, locked away with the fewest words possible.
Three words or less indeed.
The day Jaskier finds out, Geralt returns to their room on the third floor of the inn. He is exhausted, but warm and clean after a visit in the baths. One might even say content, if you were so inclined.Â
The contract is finished and paid for, the food edible and a soft warm bed awaits. Geralt enters the room he shares with Jaskier and finds the bard sprawled on the wooden floor. He is writing, scribbling, or possibly doodling in a notebook. He lies on his stomach, feet up in the air, swinging them back and forth. His tongue is peeking out between his lips and it sparks something small and warm in Geraltâs chest that heâd rather not examine too closely.
He shuffles past Jaskier to his bed and sits down heavily on the bed with a thump. Geralt stretches, arms high up in the air, his old and soft linen shirt rises up and lets in cold air over his lower abdomen.Â
The scratching of pen and paper stops but he pays it no mind. If Geralt got a coin for every time Jaskeir lost his train of thoughts he would be a rich man.
He grunts, one arm bent behind his neck and twisting his back just so. A yawn attacks him from out of nowhere and his mouth opens wide, jaw almost cracking.Â
Then there is a gasp from the floor in front of him.
Fuck.
Geralt's mouth snaps shut and his eyes dart towards the bard on the floor. Only, he is not on the floor anymore. Jaskier is scrambling to get up, long limbs everywhere, towards Geralt. Three fucking cockatrice around a maypole, this is not good.
âGeralt!â Jaskier breathes, and no, bard no, go away.Â
Geralt presses his lips tightly together, hiding his reasons even though itâs already too late. He glares at Jaskier, hoping to deter him, but when did that ever work. Jaskier walks straight up to him, like always, and gets right up his face. His heart is already beating fast but with every step Jaskier takes towards him it grows a bit heavier.Â
This is it. This is when Jaskier finally decides heâs had enough. One thing too strange about him and his friend leaves him forever.
âGeralt, you have fangs!â Jaskier exclaims, putting both of his hands on Geralt's face.
âNo I donâtâ Geralt mutters, making an effort to show as little teeth as possible. Jaskier actually chuckles at that, and itâs only Jaskier in this world that would find this funny. It eases some of that tight coil in him, and shoots a small jolt of that something through his veins.
And then Jaskier lets his thumbs stroke his cheeks softly. A deep, burning flush stains Geraltâs face, ears, and neck and that bloody bard just smiles wider.Â
âYes you do, darling witcher. Is this why you are so tightlipped all the time?â Jaskier muses with a knowing glint in his eyes. Geralt glares up at him, trying to hide his embarrassment and worry.
âDonât need another reason for people to run away from me.â He mutters, incredibly self aware.Â
He really doesn't want Jaskier to leave him, but he doesnât want his pity either. Jaskiers thumbs come up under the soft skin right under his eyes and Geralt has to fight back a shiver.Â
âI would never run from you, Geralt.â Jaskier mutters, as if he read his mind. âMay I see them?â There is a glint in Jaskiers eyes, something that absolutely doesnât help Gerlats flush.
âWhy?â Geralt asks, and Jaskiers smile turns into a sly smirk. His right thumb finds the corner of Geraltâs mouth and pushes a little.
Fuck.
âBecause they are hot.â
Fuck.
Geraltâs hands are on his legs, fingers twitching with nerves. There are very, very few in this world he would allow this close to his face. Very few he would trust not to run for the hills, or to plant a knife in his back.Â
Even fewer that sparks that hot coil of something inside him. That odd kind of hunger.
Instead of replying, he opens his mouth. Jaskier absolutely beams and he leans in close to study his teeth. His fangs.
âThatâs amazing.â Jaskier says, breath hitting Geraltâs face as he says it.Â
He tips Geraltâs chin up with one hand and lets the thumb of the other run across his upper lip to let him see clearer.
âThey look sharp.â Jaskier comments, as if his fingers don't shoot electricity through Geralt. âMay I touch them?âÂ
Geralt can use words. Sometimes. Just not⊠right now. Fuck.
All he can do is hum and lift an eyebrow, giving Jaskier his best Im-so-unimpressed-face. Jaskier grins and apparently takes that as a yes.
âOpen up.â He says, and lets that thumb slide over his teeth. And when Geralt reluctantly opens a bit more. Jaskier is standing very close now, placed right between Geralt's knees. Itâs unreal, itâs strange, so to anchor himself Geralt grabs a hold of the fabric of Jaskiers pants. No other reason at all.
Jaskier presses the meat of his thumb against one of Geraltâs fangs, and then looks up to meet his eyes. His own lips are slightly parted, a blush tainting his cheek. That spark is there, making Geraltâs head spin.
âOf all the ways I imagined I would get to explore your mouth, this wasnât it.â
Good grief, I really love MadMare as a ship. But we always see Mare as the one in control.... What if Mare gets caught working out some frustration (masturbating) by an either still-oblivious Mad, or a Mad still lowkey panicking over the realization that holy heck somebody likes me like that? Siren AU is a bonus especially if sharp teef are involved with Mare >:3
This got...long
----------------------------
Mad had finished working on his garden for the day stretching out and looking around. Phantom and Robbie hadnât returned yet from doing whatever it was Phantom wanted to do. Meaning that it was still just him and Mare here. Mad decided to head back to his boat-house and might do some reading. He had found a new book at the market and hadnât started it just yet.Â
His mind started to wander as he walked. Thinking about how it was just him and Mare here. Theyâve been âmatesâ for a bit and theyâve kissed, it getting a little steamy a few times, but they havenât gone beyond that. Mad couldnât help having this curiosity about what it would...be like. Theyâve only gotten close when Mare had legs and Mad was able to feel it pressing against him but he hasnât seen it in that form, let alone when Mare had a tail. Would it be different? Was it more human-like when Mare had legs and different when he had a tail? Would it be different sizes? Shape? Color?Â
Mad wasnât expecting any of those questions to be answered any time soon. He still got nervous at the thought of Mare just wanting to kiss him, let alone have sex. What if Mare didnât want to have sex with him? What if Mare only kissed him because itâs what mates did? Mare might have only gotten a little hard because of stimulation and not attraction. What if-
âA-Ah~â Mad went stiff when he heard a moan. He knew that moan. He knew that moan too well. Mad followed the sound and felt his face burning when he found Mare tucked away behind the boat-house. He was laying on his back and rubbing at the front of his tail, fingers dipping into what looked like a slit in his body. Mad felt like he should go, he should let Mare have his private moment. âMad~â And that made Mad stay.
âM-Mare?â Mad bit his tongue. Why did he say that?Â
âOh!â Mare sat up, hand covering his slit. âHow long youâve been there?â Mad found himself walking over to Mare and he knelt down next to him.Â
âDo you-uh-need some...help?â Mad told himself that he offered because he was curious, that he just wanted to know what was down there, nothing else. No other reason at all.Â
âSure,â Mare smirked and pulled Mad into a kiss. Mare had wanted to go further with Mad but was worried about pushing him too far too fast and with Mad showing a clear interest in this, Mare was not going to complain at all. Mad placed a hand on Mareâs tail and pulled it back out of hesitation. Mare took Madâs hand and placed it right on top of his slit. âGo ahead.â Mare gave Mad another quick kiss before laying back down, tucking his hands behind his head.
âO-Okay.â Mad thickly swallowed and looked at his hand. He slowly rubbed it up and down the much more visible slit, feeling a little bump at the top of it. Mare let out a soft, pleasure-filled sigh when Madâs hand went over the bump. Mad used his thumb to rub at the bump some more and Mare groaned at that, the bump actually growing the more Mad rubbed. A strange liquid started to come from the slit. Mad thought of it as a type of self-lubrication âOh!â Mad slapped a hand over his mouth when he voiced his discovery of that bump being Mareâs cock and it was coated in the lubrication as well.Â
âYouâre adorable.â Mare chuckled.Â
âIâm not.â Mad huffed and went back to âworkâ. The bump had now fully grown into a decent sized-cock and Mad ran his hand up and down it, feeling little bumps on it. The cock was the same color as Mareâs tail and if it wasnât for the additional texture, it would be fairly human-like.Â
âThat feels really good,â Mare said and that got Mad and curl up his shoulders in embarrassment. Was he supposed to say thank you to that? Or just keep going?Â
âUh...thanks?â Mad ended up saying and Mare laughed but that laugh became a full moan when Mad started to move his hand much faster than before.Â
âDonât be a tease.â Mare pouted, hands now out and on his stomach when Mad stopped his hand.Â
âIâm researching, not teasing,â Mad stated, his confidence immediately shrinking when he decided to ask something. âCan I...can I put my fingers in there?âÂ
âYou want to finger my slit?â
âDonât word it like that!â
âDo you?â Mare grinned when Mad paused and was now the one pouting.Â
âYes.â Mad barely opened his mouth to say that.
âFeel free to do your âresearchâ.â Mare chuckled.Â
âI can do anything?â Mad asked, wanting to make sure.
âYes, you can do whatever you want. I know youâre not going to hurt me and Iâll stop you if you do anything wrong.â Mare waved his hand, fully willing to give up control so Mad was comfortable.Â
âOkay.â Mad nodded and his attention went back towards Mareâs cock and slit. He just barely pushed a finger into the partially opened slit and could feel that there was a lot more lubrication inside of Mare. Mad pushed in just a little more and he heard Mare take in a sharp breath from that. He assumed that it was a good thing since Mare didnât say anything. Mad slipped in a second finger easily and Mare fully moaned when Mad curled his fingers towards his cock, pressing them against the base. Mad started to pump his fingers in and out of Mare, moving them around more and feeling how much warmer inside of the slit was compared to the rest of Mareâs body.
âMad~â Mare panted. âMore, put in more, please.âÂ
âI-â Mad wasnât ready for that. It was weird seeing Mare like this and all of the blood in his head went down at the sight of Mareâs face being flushed, lips parted and pupils blown wide with lust.
âFuck!â Mare cursed when Mad took his hand out instead.Â
âI want to try something,â Mad said, adjusting himself so he could lean down.Â
âO-Okay, okay, oh-oh!â Mareâs back arched when Mad slipped his tongue inside of his slit, tongue swirling with a curiosity that Mare was beginning to love more and more. âFuck, oh, fuck. Mad, fuck, Mad~â Mare clenched his hands, resisting the urge to move, to not thrust against Mareâs mouth, to not grab his head, to let Mad do what he was doing and it was driving him, well, mad.Â
Mad was surprised to find that there wasnât a taste, it was just wet. It gave off no smell either. Like it was just water or something. He could hear Mare cursing and that drove him to keep going, to try to get at every part of him. It was strangely thrilling having this power over Mare. It was nice being the one in charge for once.Â
âRight there, oh shit, right there, right there.â The end of Mareâs tail started to twitch as his upper body trembled. He was so close, oh-so-close. Mad placed a hand on Mareâs cock again to feel if it was being affected as well and when he started to pump it, that was enough to set Mare off. âI-I-ah!â Mare couldnât stop a hand from going down and pressing the back of Madâs head, pushing him deeper into his slit as he came, coating Madâs hand and part of his lower stomach. Mad let Mare rub against his face for a moment and felt the hand move away. âSorry...couldnât help myself.âÂ
âItâs okay.â Mad licked his lips and looked at his hand. The cum looked a lot like what his own was but it was much thicker.Â
âIf I would have known you were that good with your mouth, I would have let you catch me sooner.â Mare chuckled.Â
âDoes it work any differently when you have legs?â Mad asked, curiosity clouding over his arousal at that moment. âDoes it look different or have a different size?â Mare could tell Mad was in his zone and he sat up. âDo you still have a slit or does it-â Mad yelped when Mare practically tackled him, turning his tail into legs and settling himself between Madâs.Â
âWant to find out?â Mare was already slipping his hands under Madâs shirt.Â
âY-Yeah.â Mad squeaked. The tables had turned and there were no complaints from either of them.Â