#Geralt of Rivia imagine | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

imyourbratzdoll · 1 year ago

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𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒂 𝒃𝒆𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒚 𝒘𝒉𝒐 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒊𝒏𝒕𝒐 𝒕𝒉𝒓𝒆𝒆 𝒃𝒆𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒔

🕊️a whore's farytale masterlist🕊️

summary - the town's beauty (you) finds herself bargaining her life for her fathers, will the cursed beasts go easy on her? or figure out that she's the one who can break their curse?

warning - smut, monster-fucking, choking, blood play, oral, creampie, name calling, being restrained, biting, refused orgasm/edging, foursome (sorta), being passed around, swearing, death, forced voyeurism, obsessive man, grabbing, groping, trapped, held hostage, slight angst.

18+ only please, the gifs I use aren't mine, header created by me.

Warnings and Reminders - Please do not plagiarise, copy, repost/republish, adapt, or translate any of my work on any social media platforms, apps, or third-party sites. The only platforms I post my work on are: Tumblr and Wattpad. I do not own any character of any franchise (Marvel etc.) All my works are fiction and may be dark or triggering content: READ ALL WARNINGS BEFORE PROCEEDING.

The story began with three brothers, they were the same in personality but so different in looks. But the universe had other plans for the pompous Princes, the night of their party was the night a certain witch decided to teach them a lesson, one that would not only make their personalities the same, but also their looks. The sound of music and chatter could be heard from outside the castle with how loud it was. Ari, Logan and Geralt– the Princes, are dressed exceptionally well. Only the finest of clothing fits their bulky forms, expensive jewels decorate their body. Ari and Geralt both have their hair tied back in a slick ponytail, one longer than the other. A silky silver matches Geralt’s light gray suit, while Ari wears a silky blue, matching his darker blue suit. Logan has his hair slicked back, although slightly messier with a few strands falling in front of his face, the look doesn’t make him any less handsome. He wears a silky black suit, the colour looking almost devilish on him.

The brothers split from one another, Ari strides toward a beautiful blonde, twirling her as he pulls her toward the dance floor. Logan stalks off to the bar, glaring at anyone that gets in his way and Geralt heads toward a group of women, already flaunting themselves at him. The party is wild as the guests enjoy themselves, none aware of the storm brewing outside. An old woman trembles as she stands before the large doors, her wrinkled hands shake as she knocks, the sound echoing throughout the room, stopping the party momentarily. The three brothers turn, looking at the door and then to each other, a scowl on their faces, wondering who dares interrupt their party. Logan head tips back as the alcohol slides down his throat before he slams the glass down, his other two brothers express their deepest apologies. All three head towards the door, it may seem a bit extreme, but the three never go anywhere without each other. The only thing that they didn’t do together was share a woman.

Ari’s hands wrap around the handles, flinging the door open and they scowl down at the ugly old lady before them. “What do you want?” The men stand there, their bulky builds taking up the whole doorway.

“P–Please, may I come in for some shelter?” The old woman shivers, her nimble hands trembling and she clutches three roses. She offers them to the three princes, “I offer these roses for your kindness.” Her lips quiver, the cold seeming to get to her.

Logan scoffs. “God, no. Find somewhere else you wretched old hag.” The other two nod, not hiding their disgust. A shriek escapes their lips as suddenly the ugly hag magically shifts into a beautiful woman. “What the…”

Her face is set in stone, a harsh glare in her eyes. “Despicable. You’d think Princes like yourselves would be kinder. But, alas you have failed the test.”

“What? What test? You are welcome to come in, Miss.” Geralt stumbles, shamelessly checking out the Enchantress. Her lip curls as though she can see the dirty thoughts swirling around in his mind.

Her head tilts, the three roses suddenly being encased in three glass domes, the beautiful flowers floating in the centre. “No. For the curse to be broken, you will have to find someone that will want you, all of you.”

Ari scoffs. “Please. We can have anyone want us, are you blind?”

The Enchantress smirks. “What I mean is for them to want all of you in your true forms.” Suddenly magic swirls around the men and their bodies begin to grow and shred, thick luscious fur replacing flesh. Sharp claws replace nicely kept fingernails, eyes turning a bright golden-yellow. Growls begin to fill the air as canines spurt from their gums, replacing their human teeth. The usual men now beasts stood at eight-feet, towering over the witch and before they could strike, she disappeared. Her words rang in their head. ‘If you do not find someone who truly wants you before the last petal falls, you will be stuck as beasts forever.’

Years pass and nearby in a small village, a beautiful young woman named Y/n-Belle hurries through the town. You greeted people as you passed by, a warm smile resting upon your lips. You hurried over to your favourite store, which happened to be the bookstore, a giant grin appears as you push the door open and stumble through, the excitement vibrating throughout your whole body. Y/n-Belle was a very strange, but smart woman, you were the only one in town that got excited about books and reading, causing you to become an outcast and lonely within the people. But you didn’t mind, you were quite content with living in your fantasies.

The bookstore owner heads over to you, a smile on his face as he hands you one of your favourites. A book that you’ve read a thousand of times, yet would never tire of reading it. You smile, a dreamy look appearing on your face as you peer down at the book, your soft hands grabbing it gently, fingers stroking the cover. “This is my favourite! Far-off places, daring sword fights, magic spells, a prince in disguise…” You pause, your imagination flashing before your eyes as you play out the words in the book. You blink, coming back into reality and you give the man a smile. “Oh, thank you very much!”

You spin, your blue and white dress swishing around you. You rush outside, the book already opened and your eyes flickering over the words as you walk. Your head was stuck in the book, not noticing the town's most handsome hunter heading straight for you. “Y/n-Belle!” You were hoping that if you ignored him that he would go away, but that did not seem to be the case. He stopped in front of you, nearly causing you to topple over. Gaston chuckles, “the whole town’s talking about you! It’s not right for a woman to read,” He shakes his head, chuckling as if the thought alone was funny. Yet, you had somehow figured that he’s never picked up a book in his life, his small mind proving that the more he talks. “It’s about time you got your nose out of those books and paid attention to more important things— like me!” He boasts, puffing his chest out like he is the most desirable thing to live and breathe. Truthfully, none of the men in your village caught your fancy. You were more into, well… Beasts.

You desperately try to get away without being rude, not in the mood to deal with a petulant child. You could see your escape, but as you opened your mouth to leave. Gaston’s “friend” joined, beginning to insult your father without much of a hello. Your brows furrowed and your lips pursed. “My father is not crazy! He’s a genius, but you are too stupid to realise that!” You blow up, letting your anger consume you without thinking properly. An explosion interrupts the men from responding, the sound coming from your cottage where your father is currently working on something. Without much thought, you take off running.

You arrive at the cottage, finding your father. Gaston’s words replay in your head, you sit on top of a barrel that is in your front yard. “They think I’m odd, Papa.” You play with your fingers, picking some dirt from underneath your fingernails.

“Don’t worry, Y/n-Belle. My inventions are going to change everything for us. We won’t have to live in this little town forever.” He says with a giant smile, one that used to give you hope to his dreams. But they slowly begin to dwindle as his inventions haven’t gotten any better, but you don’t want to ruin his dreams by voicing your concerns. You watch as he mounts your horse, Philippe, setting off for the fair with his new invention. “Goodbye, Y/n-Belle! Don’t worry about what others say, you will go places!”

Maybe you did still have hope, especially when he gives you another one of his smiles and a wave. You return it, watching as he goes. “Goodbye! Good luck, I believe in you, father!”

Still at the cottage, you don’t know that your father got lost on his way and the events following would eventually lead you to your future, whether it be good or bad. But it would definitely be strange, and full of twists and turns.

You sit inside, your head in your book again. Even though you had read it many times, it would still be your favourite. You are pulled out of your fantasy world as you hear a knock at the door. You get up, slowly opening it and sighing as you see Gaston on the other side. “Gaston! What a… pleasant surprise!” You force a tiring smile on your lips.

Gaston strolls in, taking his shoes off, exposing his dirty and very used socks. He takes a seat at the head of the table, placing his dirty feet on top of your favourite book, causing it to become dirty. A scowl appears upon your face at the disrespect of this man. “Y/n-Belle! There’s not a woman in town who wouldn’t love to be in your shoes. Do you know why? Because I want to marry you!”

You huff silently, knowing that the only way you could get out of this is if you politely decline and make it seem as though you weren’t worthy of him. “Gaston, I’m speechless!” You gnaw on your bottom lip, hating that this disgusting pig of a man won’t leave you alone. “I’m sorry, but… but…” You swallow, knowing you will have to force these words out. “I just don’t deserve you!” You force back scrunching your nose in disgust, watching as humiliation falls upon his face.

Without a word he stumbles out, hastily putting on his shoes causing him to trip, slipping into some mud. You peeked out, placing a hand over your lips to cover the giggle that threatened to escape past them, watching as the villagers gathered around, hoping to see some sort of wedding or at least a celebration. Only to witness their friend and fellow villager fall into some mud, causing Gaston to feel even more humiliated than before. You’d hope that would at least knock his ego down a few pegs.

You waited until everyone had disappeared from your home before rushing out to feed the chickens. You hear something causing your head to whip around and you find your horse, Philippe, alone without your father. You head over to him, checking for something, anything. “Philippe! What are you doing here? Where’s Papa?!” He whines anxiously and you immediately rush to the house to grab your cloak before running back to him and climbing onto his back. You feel frightened as you think of all the possibilities of what could’ve happened to your father. This feeling pushes you to return to the mysterious forest, allowing you to find a castle that looks like it has been abandoned for many years.

You try and steady, Philippe, brows furrowing when you spot something on the ground. With swift movements, you dismount your horse and move toward the object. A soft gasp passes your lips as you recognise your father’s hat. Without a second thought, you hurry toward the gloomy castle, pushing past the heavy doors and deciding to wander the vast deserted corridors. Your main focus was to find your father, no care of what may happen to you. “Papa? Are you here? It’s Y/n-Belle!” You were met with silence, you continued your search not knowing of the objects that are alive because of the curse within the castle walls.

You stumble along as you finally discover your father locked away in a cell. You gasp, having to kneel as the only opening was at feet level. “Papa! We have to get you out of here!” Suddenly you felt as though you were being watched.

“What’re you doing here?”

“You shouldn’t be in our castle, Little one.”

“Leave now!”

Your eyes widen when you hear three different voices coming from within the shadows. “Please, let my father go! Take me instead!”

There was a scoff filled with curiosity from the shadows. “You would take his place?”

“S–step into the light please…” You asked. Your expression morphed as you stared horrified at three huge, ugly Beasts– well, they weren’t ugly… But you wouldn’t let them know that between your thighs you felt yourself clench around nothing. You gulped, you didn’t want to be anywhere near these monsters, but you agreed to take your father’s place. “I–” You swallow the saliva that gets stuck in your throat. “I would. I will take his place.” Your words left no room for argument, you were putting your foot down. You didn’t know that you signed up for forever with the three Beasts.

As the words left your lips, one of the Beasts grabbed your father from his cell and dragged him throughout the castle, once outside he was thrown into a carriage that would take him home. The other two begin to walk, causing you to follow behind nervously. The third joining immediately, you let your eyes wander. Taking everything in, it felt like one of those books you always had your nose buried in.

Your voice cuts through the silence, sounding as though it echoes through the dark halls. “D–do you three have names?” As I don’t want to continue calling you Beasts in my head, you think the last bit to yourself. Knowing it would be rude of you to voice out loud.

“Ari.”

“Logan.”

“Geralt.”

They growl out, hardened eyes landing on your tiny form. Ari steps toward you, towering over you as you shiver, your eyes wide and you try to shrink into yourself. “Our castle is your home now, so you can go anywhere you like…”

Geralt cuts in. “Except the West Wing.”

You stare back, innocently asking. “What’s in the West Wing?”

Their bodies tense and they glare as Logan growls out. “It’s forbidden!” Geralt opens a door to your new bedroom and pushes you in.

“You will join us for dinner. That’s not a request.” Ari stares you down, stopping you from protesting. They shut the door and stalk off, separating to different parts of the castle. You lie down on the bed, burying your face into the pillows. You knew you would never escape this prison, nor would you ever see your father again. Maybe you should’ve married Gaston, at least then you wouldn’t be stuck with Beasts.

The disgusting truth though was how much you weren’t disgusted by their forms. Their behaviour. It was definitely something out of those books you read, just less romantic and more animalistic. You huff, shaking your head of those thoughts. You will in no way let them find out about this. It was something different than other women would fantasie about and you didn’t want those… FREAKS! To judge you.

You refused to go to dinner when the time came, knowing you wouldn’t be able to contain yourself if you stayed in the same room as them for too long. Oh, how your father would be disgraced by the woman you’ve become. You had grown bored and hungry and had decided to wander the castle in hopes of finding the kitchen. With quiet footsteps, you exited your room and tiptoed down the halls, peaking your head around corners and stopping whenever you heard the slightest of noises.

You were no fool, the Beasts had been mad when you refused to dine with them and if one of them were to find you wandering the halls in search of food. Well you fear you may become theirs instead. Though, you wouldn’t mind them… No, you couldn’t let your thoughts wander for too long.

A small squeal passes your lips when you finally stumble upon the kitchen, happily making your way over to the fridge before a voice interrupts, causing your heart to drop into your stomach.

“You know… If you had come to dinner. You wouldn’t be so hungry now.” The voice was deep, a growl slipping through with each word. You spin, eyes wide as they land on Logan, how had you missed such a big figure? You squeak, not knowing what to reply with. Logan raises a furry brow, “Cat got your tongue, Little one?” He moves fast, now towering over you. “Or should I say Beast?”

Your thighs press together, a whimper slipping past your lips and your wide eyes stare up at him. “I–I…” Stupid, why the hell would you try to speak when you’re in this position? Your voice would give you away, you daft bimbo. You scowl at yourself, how could you be so dumb when you were the only one to read in your village? You gulp as he leans in with a smirk. You don’t know that their senses had heightened with their transformation, you had practically given yourself away since you broke into their castle.

“Hmm? No words?” Your hunger forgotten and replaced with something else. You notice how his hand, though actually a paw, comes up, a lit cigar between his clawed fingers, bringing it to his lips, puffing on it as he stares into your eyes watching as you follow his movements. “Ya know, my brothers are angry with the fact you ignored their invitation.”

Your eyes roll and you scoff. “Well, excuse me for not wanting to dine with those that are keeping me hostage.” His brow raises again, not expecting so many words to pass your lips. You gulp, where the hell did that come from?

“Huh, so you do say more than four words.” He leans closer if that was even possible, “Better watch your tone with me, Little one or else I’m gonna have to do something about it.” With those words, he disappears and you whimper. Fantastic, the only pair of knickers you have on you and they are completely drenched. You wouldn’t be surprised if the other two could smell you wherever they were.

You shakily prepare a small meal, hurriedly eating it so you don’t have another run in. When you finish, you swear you hear someone speak. But looking around, you find no one. Your brows furrow, are you finally going insane? You begin to get up when you hear it again.

“Excuse me, Miss.” You look around again, what the hell? “Down here, Miss.” You look down and let out a small squeak of surprise, there stands before you a small clock that seems alive? He blinks up at you, a smile on his face? “Hello. I am Cogsworth. I am sorry for frightening you.”

“I–it’s f–fine.” You clear your throat. “It’s fine. You didn’t frighten me, just a bit startled is all.” You try to smile, “Have you been here this whole time?” You hoped he hadn’t, you wouldn’t want to know what an object thought of the previous events.

Cogsworth shakes his head. “No, Miss. Master Logan ordered that I escort you back to your quarters. He doesn’t want you wandering about… In your condition.” His eyes squint, as though he understands yet how could you know he would? You had no clue that the alive object was once a person.

“Oh, okay.” You stand, smoothing down your dress about to follow but you stop. “Actually, Cogsworth. Would you mind giving me a tour of the castle, please?”

He looks at you for a few seconds, as though he was hesitating before he nods. “Okay, follow me. Miss.” You spend most of your night getting acquainted with your new home before you stop underneath a dark staircase. Noticing how Cogsworth seems to want to hurry past it without acknowledging it.

“What’s up there?” Your curiousity seeps through your words.

Cogsworth practically shakes as he answers. “Nothing, absolutely nothing of interest at all in the West Wing.” Your interest piqued as you heard West Wing. You watch as he’s too busy focusing on ensuring the two of you don’t get caught, especially near this staircase. Allowing you to escape unnoticed, racing up the staircase and into a long hallway lined with broken mirrors.

“Well… That’s bad luck for many, many years.” You wet your lips as you cautiously opened the doors at the end of the corridor. You enter the dank, filthy room strewn with broken furniture, torn curtains and grey, gnawed bones. Your eyes wide, taking it all in before they land on the only living object or should you say objects. There behind a glass dome were three shimmering roses. Entranced, Y/n–Belle lifted the cover and reached out to touch one soft, pink petal. You were so entranced that you did not hear Ari enter the room.

“I warned you never to come here!” He advanced on you. “GET OUT! GET OUT!” Your daze had been broken, desire now replaced with fear. You became terrified of his rage, causing you to turn and run. You run out of the room, down the stairs and past Cogsworth and a candle? You didn’t have time to stop, you needed to leave. Not even your lust for your fantasy to come true could stop you. Your feet had taken control of your body.

“Promise or no promise, I can’t stay here another minute!” You flee, finding your horse and taking off. You gallop through the snow until you are met with a pack of fierce, hungry wolves. Your eyes widen, mouth opening and closing as you don’t know whether to scream or breathe. Through your terror, you forgot about the horse you sat upon. He reared, causing you to fall to the ground, tumbling into the snow below. They were advancing on Philippe, so with quick movements, you found a large stick and defended your horse.

“Stay back!” You swing, swiping at them. Hoping and praying that they would leave. Their attention moved from your horse and you would’ve sighed of relief but instead you choked up, the wolves had now turned on you. Their canines bared as they snarl. Oh no, no no no. You thought, brows furrowing as worry fills you. Well, at least they are no longer after Philippe.

You shriek as they pounce, about to rip you apart until suddenly a large paw pulls the animals off of you. It was Ari and you notice Logan and Geralt standing behind him. Anger evident on their faces, you knew it was directed towards you for leaving and now nearly getting yourself killed. You struggle to your feet, stumbling into a pair of arms as all you can do is watch the wolves turn and strike Ari and Logan, fierce growls filling the cold air. The wolves were no match for the two, being torn off and flung as a ferocious howl escapes the Beasts, surprising the wolves before they flee into the night.

Logan grunts while Ari stumbles, collapsing into the snow. Wounded. The brothers attention now focused on him, Geralt’s hold loosening and this could’ve been your chance to escape. But what did you have at home? And when you looked at the fallen Beast, you knew you couldn’t leave him. Even though he had his brothers. Logan and Geralt pull Ari up, arms wrapped around him as he leaned against them. He was not the fighter of the two and not even he knew why he didn’t let Geralt fight in his place.

The Beasts barely spare you a glance, they began to walk away, expecting you to get on your horse and leave. But you didn’t move, with a heavy heart you watched them walk from you. Did your chance slip through your fingers? Philippe nudges you, looking at you with those big eyes and you sigh. He nudges you again, gesturing you to look and when you do, your mouth opens. The three Beasts had stopped, as if they were waiting for you and without a second thought. You grabbed your horse and raced toward them, offering your horse for Ari to rest on and to get to the castle faster so you could tend to his wounds.

Back at the castle, you cleaned Ari’s wound. “Thank you… For saving my life even though you didn’t have to.” You whisper, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth. “I… I hope you can forgive me for running.” You look up from his wound to his face, not knowing the feeling he feels when you look at him like that.

His paw covers your hand, “There’s nothing to forgive, Beauty. I’m the one who should apologise for scaring you.” You shake your head, his gaze gets distracted by the way your hair frames your face and how the light of the sunrise hits your skin, causing you to glow. “Do you think I’m okay enough to walk for a bit? I have something I want to show you.”

Your brows furrow, looking between his wound and him. His face makes it hard for you to say no, but you also didn’t want him to hurt himself by moving too much. You look up again, being met with puppy dog eyes which makes it harder to resist when he’s not exactly human looking. “...Okay! Okay, but only for a little bit. I don’t want you hurting yourself and ruining all of my work.” You assist him as you help him up, allowing his arm to wrap around you. Which is quite difficult seeing as there is a massive height and size difference. Oh god, you begin to think what else is huge… How would you be able to possibly fit it inside of you? You shake your head, ridding yourself of those thoughts, hoping that the Beast wouldn’t catch on.

Ari leads you through the halls before stopping upon two large doors. He leans forward, opening them and you both walk inside. Your eyes widen and your mouth falls open. “Oh my god!” You look around, a gasp escaping your lips. “This is so beautiful! I’ve never seen so many books in all my life!”

Ari had smiled a real smile for the first time since he was a child. “Then it is yours.” You look at him in disbelief, you could’ve dropped to your knees right then and there.

…

Okay, so you did. You fell right to your knees, not caring that they scraped against the carpet or that a squeak of desire left you as you finally gave into your desire. Ari stared wide-eyed down at you, his mouth wide open as shock filled him. He was not expecting that, if he had known all it would take was giving you their library, he would’ve done that from the beginning. “What… What are you doing?”

Your eyes widen, finally reality hits. “Oh! Oh, I’m so sorry!” You go to stand, but his paw stops you, keeping you in place. You could feel your knickers dampen. Not the same ones, they had mysteriously gone missing when you went to shower before tending to Ari. But you were thankful to whoever laid out new clothes for you.

“I didn’t say you had to get up. I just have never seen someone drop to their knees so fast.” He felt himself harden, his cursed body did come with an added bonus. He was now much larger than his human self, he wasn’t small before. But now it was monstrous.

You watched with wide and lust filled eyes as his pants expanded, stretching to the point it looked as though the seams would break. “Can… Can I?” You gesture to his bulge, looking up at him with large, doe eyes.

“Fuck.” He nods, growling. “Go ahead, Beauty.” His golden-yellow eyes stare down at you, canines digging into his bottom lip as you press your hand against the bulge, feeling it, squeezing it. Your hand is tiny compared to him, causing a whimper to slip from your lips and a growl from his. “You gonna play with it or suck it?” He growls, frustrated. You squeeze your thighs together, grabbing the waistband of his pants and pulling them down. You let out a moan as his member springs free. Nearly slapping you in the face with how big it is.

You lean forward hesitantly, kissing his weeping tip before bringing it into your mouth and sucking. Your eyes slip closed as you moan around it, it felt so perfect against your tongue. It was a struggle to get the whole tip in your mouth, right now you could only get a small bit in. But you were going to make this work, you didn’t know when another opportunity like this would present itself. Ari watched from above as you struggled to fit him inside, groaning at the sight.

Your tongue flicked over the slit, collecting the pre-cum that leaks out. You let out a whimper as you slowly move further down his cock, taking more of him inside of your mouth. You can feel yourself dripping onto the floor with how wet you are. Ari’s paw slams down on a nearby bookshelf, his growls fill the room, echoing throughout the castle. You rest your hands on his furry thighs, gripping them as you force more of him in, mouth stretched as wide as it can, sucking him in. One hand moves to the rest you can’t fit in, no matter how much you try and force it to. You wrap it around the base, twisting and jerking while your head bobs up and down, tongue swirling and tracing his veins, causing more sounds to escape the Beast.

You don’t notice the two brothers that hide in the shadows, watching you suck off their brother. They felt themselves become filled with hope and desire, knowing you were the one that would break their curse. Ari grips your head, holding you down as he cums down your throat, watching it overflow and drip from the sides of your mouth, trying to swallow everything desperately like the good girl you are. When he pulls his cock free from your mouth, all three Beasts take a sharp breath at how good you looked covered in cum, your eyes glazed over with a need to be fucked.

After the events in the library, everything began to change. Throughout the month, you would find yourself suddenly pushed up against a wall, lips attached to any exposed flesh, hands beneath your dress or groping your breasts. You were so sexually frustrated, the Beasts would rile you up only to leave you wanting more. They would never let you cum, they weren’t even trying to get themselves off. You began to spend your time with them, always sitting on one of their laps, never straying far. If one found you reading or even just simply existing. You’d suddenly be under them, at some point you had cried, begging them to fuck you.

That evening you were sitting on Geralt’s lap, your lip pulled between your teeth as he gently grinds you down on his bulge. Stopping whenever he felt you were too close. Logan lounged across from you, a cigar dangling carelessly between his smirking lips as his dark eyes watched you. Your gaze was pulled from Logan when Ari leant behind him on the chair. “Are you happy, Y/n–Belle?”

You hum, a bit dazed and distracted by the tingles zapping between your thighs. “Yes. I am very happy, I only wish I could see my father and know he made it home safe. I miss him very much.”

Ari hummed in response, turning as if he’s searching for something. Geralt continues his torture on you, making your head fall back as you near your orgasm again, whining when he stops, taking it away. “There is a way.” You blink, trying to focus on what Ari is saying. He moves toward you, handing you a magic mirror. In it, you see your father being locked away as the town gathered around, lit torches in their hands as they chant about killing the Beasts and saving you. An unhappy look crosses your face as you see Gaston leading it. “If you need, you may go if you like.” The Beasts didn’t want you to leave.

You shake your head, “There is no point. There is a group already heading this way, it would be stupid of me to leave now.” Stupid Gaston always ruining your peace. Why was the man so adamant on marrying you? You stand, “I am going outside for a bit of fresh air, is that okay?” You could not think straight when in the same room as them, it was like all common sense flew out the window and the only thing you wanted was for them to use you.

Ari nods, Logan and Geralt scowl when they hear about people coming to their castle. Geralt had seen the look on your face when seeing that man appear in the mirror, a plan forms and he decides to share it with his brothers. Who wouldn’t love a live show?

Your coat flows around you as you exit the castle, cold air immediately hitting you. You wander over to the blooming rose bushes, gently brushing your fingers over the petals. A sudden squeal escapes you as someone grabs you, putting their arms around you and whispering into your ear. “Hello, MY Y/n–Belle. So far from home, why not come back, huh? Come back and I’ll forgive you, Y/n–Belle, come back and we can marry.” Gaston’s voice caused unwanted shivers to roll through you, his was not the voice you wanted to hear nor the arms you wanted around you.

“I will never marry you! Why can’t you get that through your thick head?!” You struggle against his grip, teeth clenched as your words come out rough. “You have gone mad, Gaston!”

Gaston grinned evilly, “Good thing I don’t care, Y/n–Belle. Once I have killed the Beasts, you will be MINE.” You watched as the villagers tore through the castle’s doors, the sound of shouts and a fight breaking out can be heard over the howling wind. “Come. You shall take me to the Beasts, so that I can rid of them and claim you as my own.” His grip on your arm is bruising, dragging you past everyone and up the stairs. You didn’t know why he had chosen this direction, the castle was huge, there was no way he’d be able to find them so quickly… Unless he had been watching, waiting.

“Ah huh! The Beasts! You are not as terrifying as her lunatic of a father said you were!” He pulls you closer to him, three sets of growls ripple through the air as they watch your face become pained. “I shall kill you at last, so that I can claim Y/n–Belle as my own.”

“There’s three of us and one of you. What makes you think you can take us?” Geralt growls, his eyes firmly set on Gaston’s. You shivered, you didn’t know whether it was from fear or horniness. You felt yourself throb and nodded to yourself, definitely the latter. “I suggest you let go of our HoneyBelle.”

Gaston chuckles, pulling a gun from. Well you don’t exactly know where? It was definitely not in his hand or anywhere really when he grabbed you. “This. I am the best hunter there is. I shall have all three of your heads mounted on my wall by morning.” It was a wonder how his head never exploded from how big his ego was. It was almost as big as well… Your mind began to drift again and you had to shake your head to try and rid yourself of these thoughts, it wasn’t the time.

The Beasts smirked, they had learnt to read your body well. Their Little one, Beauty and HoneyBelle was thinking inappropriately at an unfortunate time. You had come out of your daze in time to notice the designs on the wall come to life. Like a snake, the marble vines slithered across the floor and wrapped around Gaston’s leg. “What is this?!” He tries shaking his leg, letting go of you from the distraction. You squeak as arms pull you toward them, you look up to see Ari before he places you behind him. Gaston snarls, seeing you had gotten away. “You freaks! You think you can defeat me?! I AM THE GREAT GASTON!” He roared, but he was no match for a Beast's roar.

Having shrunk into himself as Logan roared back, it allowed the vine to pull him into a room that was conveniently set up. It dragged him over to a chair placed in the middle of the room, the arms had strangely been taken off. Gaston was harshly placed down onto the chair, the vines wrapping around him and the seat, securing the angered hunter. “I will escape this foolishness and take Y/n–Belle as my own!” He struggles against the vines grip.

The three Beasts stalk into the room, pulling you gently, but possessively along. Logan pulls you to stand in front of them, from Gaston’s perspective. You looked so tiny before them, you didn’t even look that tiny next to him and he was the tallest in the village. The Beasts towered over you, looking menacing to everyone but you.

“You will see who she belongs to. Won’t he, Little one?” Your thighs press together, feeling yourself throb between them and you nod. “Take off your dress.” Your hands move shakily as you lift your dress over your head and gently toss it to your side, Gaston’s eyes widen as he finally gets to see what he’s been wishing for. Maybe the Beasts are going to let him have a taste before he kills them. He smirks at that thought, becoming cocky once more. Logan moves toward you, staring at the hunter as he grasps your breast, squeezing it before rubbing your hardened nipples. “You see this? See how she reacts to our touch?” He growls, everyone in the room watches as you whimper, eyes watering and thighs pressed tightly together.

“Why don’t you go and lay on his lap, Little one.” He tells you, “On your stomach, no touching.” He glares at Gaston as he says the last part. Knowing in some way that the hunter would try and possibly slip through those vines like the slippery git he is. Logan’s paw hits your arse, pushing you forward with a slap. You squeal, timidly walking over to the bounded man, laying across his lap, the vines seem to welcome you instead of digging into you.

You bite your lip as you watch the Beasts stalk forward, coming closer. You whimper as Ari kneels between your legs and Geralt stands above your head. Logan stands directly in the middle, staring down Gaston who greedily stares down at you, his mouth opens and everyone knows he’s about to say something, but a vine slithers up and covers it before he can speak. Wrapping itself around until he’s gagged and bound.

“Such a pretty sight, Beauty. Are you ready to cum after all of this waiting? Hmm? We know we’ve been depriving you of it.” You moan at his words, not being able to respond or place your head down because you were too focused on the giant bulge in front of you. You throb at the sight, you could never get over how large they were.

“It seems she can’t reply at the moment, Ari. Our girl is a bit dumbstruck.” Geralt tilts his head, looking at Gaston. “Whores, you understand right?” His golden-yellow eyes narrow as his gaze turns back to you. “Why don’t you take my cock out, HoneyBelle. Show this human what you prefer.” You whine, squirming in Gaston’s lap as you reach your hands out quickly, the Beasts chuckle at how desperate you are.

You had only seen Ari’s cock, none of the other Beasts would give you the pleasure to see theirs. It felt like such a punishment when you could feel them, but you weren’t allowed to see. When you saw Ari’s you thought he was the biggest that you’ve ever seen, obviously you were wrong. Geralt seemed to at least be an inch longer, maybe more. Your eyes flickered over to Logan’s clothed cock, wondering if he was bigger than these two.

Geralt moves your head back to him, your mouth falls open as he guides his member inside, forcing it in unlike Ari. Speaking of, the other Beast dives between your thighs, lapping up your arousal like a man starved. Your eyes roll to the back of your head at the intense pleasure that shoots through you. Your moans vibrate around Geralt’s member, causing him to tilt his head back and let out a roar. He holds your head in place as he begins to thrust back and forth, fucking your mouth like it’s his own personal fleshlight. You drool from being used, allowing him to thrust in and out easier.

Ari palms your arse and thighs, holding you close as he devours your sweet cunt. His tongue thrusts in and out of your glistening hole before switching to lick and suck your puffy clit, taking the little bead between his sharp canines. A giant grin appears on his face as your squeals can be heard around his brother’s cock, your squirms become frantic and your toes curl. He laps your sweet juices up, knowing he would never let you go after having tasted you.

Gaston grunts, becoming disgusted with himself as he hardens at the sight, his growing bulge pushes against your stomach. Twitching as you continue to squirm against him. Logan’s glare sharpens as he notices.

“Stop.” Everything ceases and you whine, tongue hanging out of your mouth, eyes crossed and cunt tingling as you wonder why the pleasure had been stopped. He waves his paw, gesturing for you to be pulled up. You squeal as Ari pulls you up, his large bulge presses into your back, quite close to your shoulders with how tall he was. “Are you getting off on our Little one?” The growl echoes throughout the room and goes straight to your cunt.

Logan pulls you from Ari’s hold, holding your hip with one paw while the other pulls his pants down, releasing his thickened member. You feel it slap against your body and jolt, a gasp escaping you. You had a guess that he definitely was the biggest between the three. He grasps his throbbing member in his hold, stroking it as he directs his leaking tip against your sopping cunt. Logan holds eye contact with the defenseless hunter as he thrusts into you, stretching your walls wide. Your head falls back into his chest, no sounds escape your opened mouth as you are speechless. You swear you could see colours with how delicious the stretch felt, you had never felt so full before.

The Beasts and the hunter gulp as they see the bulge appear on your stomach, it slowly disappears as Logan pulls out slowly only to thrust back in. Your arms flail about as you try and find something to grip onto, your hands grab onto his biceps, arms and fur as he begins to pound into you. Growls fill the room as Logan picks up his brutal pace, slamming in and out of you like a wild animal. His grip on your hips tighten, canines bared as he lowers his head down to your exposed neck.

“Logan!” His brother’s eyes widen as they go to stop him, but it’s too late. Logan latches onto your neck, sinking his canines into your flesh and growling as your warm blood seeps into his mouth. Your eyes roll back as your cunt clenched tightly around the Beast. Your back arches, nails digging into his flesh as you scream, cumming around him repeatedly.

“Logan!” A different shout comes through. Not his brother’s, but yours. You cry his name as he continues to pull orgasms from your small body, fucking into you harder and faster until he pulls away from your neck and roars, thick ropes of cum shoot out of his thick, angry tip and coat your walls. Filling your tiny cunt to the brim, possibly even making its way into your stomach before it drips out, coating your thighs white. He suddenly feels weakened as he pulls out of you, he stumbles back and falls. Ari catches you as they stare at their brother wide-eyed.

“The curse! It must be the curse!” The brother’s exclaim, looking at each other before looking at you with wide grins.

“Are you ready for more, Beauty?” You nod rapidly, already feeling desire take over as you think about these Beasts using you again. He pulls you over to the hunter, pressing you into the side of the chair, your breasts pushing into Gaston’s face, back arching as Ari grips onto you and you grip the chair tightly as he guides his throbbing member into your used cunt, his eyes roll back at the feel of how tight you are. “Fuck, Beauty. So perfect for us.” He leans forward, flattening his tongue against your wounded neck, licking up your blood before sinking his teeth in as he begins to pound into you, pushing you into the desperate man. Gaston is forced to suffer as your bare breasts press into him whilst you get fucked by another man. Ari towers over you, covering your whimpering form. His cock slides in and out of your fluttering hole with sharp thrusts, already feeling his end nearing. He slides his paw to your stomach, pressing on the bulge before continuing to travel down to your puffy clit and plays with it.

You jerk, mouth falling open as your walls tighten around him and your juices flow out, coating him as you cum, your toes curl and your moans fill the room. Ari follows quickly behind, stuffing his cock deep inside of you as he lets go with a roar, filling you with his cum alongside his brother’s. You feel your stomach filling from a weird angle, as he slides out of you, you look down to see your stomach bulging a tiny bit. You whimper, your cunt pulsates as you move toward Geralt, looking up at him with wide eyes. Desperate to be filled again. Not noticing Ari slumping against the wall, his body draining.

Geralt growls, gripping your throat between his clawed fingers. “You want more, HoneyBelle?” You nod, pouting. Your eyes glazed over. “What a slut you are.” He tuts, “I want to test something out first.” His golden-yellow eyes narrow as he slides his cock deep into your used cunt with one quick thrust. Watching your eyes roll back for possibly the twentieth time that night, he was surprised they hadn’t gotten stuck. He stills and you whine, clutching him, your hips move as you bounce yourself up and down his cock. His grip around your throat tightens. “I want you to watch, HoneyBelle.” You pout, looking at him before he turns your attention to poor defenseless Gaston.

Your eyes widen as you watch the vines slowly remove themselves from his body, you clutch Geralt tightly as Gaston blinks, he slowly stands and with a vicious growl, he pulls out a dagger and launches himself towards the two of you. Your cunt tightens around the Beast and with wide eyes you watch as Geralt swipes his paw that isn’t gripping your throat, his claws dig deeply into the hunters throat, large slashes appear as Gaston’s body drops. His face permanently set in a shocked expression. You whimper, feeling yourself drip around Geralt’s member.

You blink, looking innocently at his face as he smirks. “Just what I thought. You are a very nasty whore, HoneyBelle.” You clench around him, the paw that is marked with Gaston’s blood comes up and grips your face while the other moves down to hold onto your thighs. You felt so dirty, but in a good way. You don’t notice him moving you over to a wall, the vines from before slither over, wrapping around your wrists and ankles as they hold you open for all to see. Geralt grins, sliding his bloody paw down your body, leaving a trail of blood that mixes with your own. “I’m going to fuck you now, HoneyBelle. So.” Thrust. “Fucking.” Thrust. “Hard.” With his last word, the Beast begins to pound into you, splitting you open.

You scream and moan, your nails digging into your palms. You can’t help but struggle against the vines, wanting, NEEDING, something to hold onto. Your head hits the wall as your half–lidded eyes watch Geralt ruin you, fucking you like the wild Beast he is. His golden-yellow eyes never leave yours. Not until he leans forward and digs his canines into the very same spot Logan and Ari did, reveling in the taste of your blood, the feel of it flowing into him, dripping down his chin.

The feeling of his cock splitting you open and his canines ripping through your flesh cause your vision to go white as you cum, squirting all over the Beast. Your arousal coats him, dripping down his thick member. Geralt growls, slamming into you harder and faster, his head now out from your neck, eyes watching you before he buries himself inside of you. Cumming deep into you, his gaze flickers down and he watches as your stomach bulges a bit more from being filled by three different types of cum. He grins, slowly thrusting as he emptied himself inside of you before pulling out and falling to the ground like his brother’s.

The vines don’t pull away, you hang against the wall. Your eyes flutter as your mind is dazed. You swear you see gold swirling around the three Beasts bodies, causing your brows to furrow as you try and blink away the cloudiness. You were saddened that in place of your Beasts were normal human men… You broke their curse.

The three brother’s groan, slowly dragging themselves up from the floor. Their eyes scan each other before looking down at themselves, seeing their human selves. “Finally. The curse has been broken and I am no longer bound as a Beast.” You whimper, causing their eyes to shoot toward you.

Ari moves over, hands skimming your soft body. “Hello, Beauty.” You frown.

They were handsome, you weren’t blind. All three of them looked different to each other and their animal form. Ari with medium length brown hair and pretty blue eyes, a bushy beard covering some of his face. Logan with short dark brown hair that somehow had styled small horns on top and hardened blue eyes, a slight beard covering his face. Then there’s Geralt, different from the two with his long white hair and golden eyes, a five o’clock shadow rests on his face. You stared at the brothers. They were gorgeous for humans, somewhat god-like but deep down, you desired the Beasts within them. Somehow, it made them… More.

Geralt smirks at his work. “I am not going to lie, I will miss being a Beast.” Logan grunts at his brother’s words. The vines finally unravel from your wrists and ankles, allowing Ari to catch you and carry you over to the bed.

You would later learn that the men wouldn’t stay just men, the Beast still lived within, especially when they tasted your sweet blood before the curse was broken.

thank you for reading!

feedback and reblogs are greatly appreciated.

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gemstone-roses · 1 year ago

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Safe

Summary: Geralt talks you through your orgasm.

As promised, I finished my essay, and as voted for by several of you, this was the fic you wanted posted first!

Warnings: smut, 18 + only! minors be fucking gone from here ! Vaginal penetration, unprotected sex, hurt/comfort, use of good girl, soft Geralt. Praise kink, brief mentions of panic. You know the drill. Female reader.

Please note I am not responsible for your media consumption.

The white haired Witcher encases you beneath him. His muscly arms holding steady on either side of you. His amber eyes show nothing but adoration for you as he thrusts his cock inside you.

“You’re doing so good for me” he groans, his thick cock twitches as you tighten around him.

It’s been hours, not that your complaining of course, Geralt exploring every inch of you with his fingers, his tongue, muttering praise and comments on how gorgeously stunning you are.

“Geralt” you whine, your pleasure building, your stomach beginning to swirl as it starts to cloud your mind.

“Your close” the Witcher observes, angling his cock so he hits deeper.

You wince slightly, he picks up on it, slows down a bit.

“your okay” he soothes, his big hands splaying across your thighs, squeezing, it provides comfort. “Look at me, love” his gravelly voice is soft, tender.

Your eyes flit to his, a half smile on his face

“There she is” he moves his hand to your face, runs a finger down your jaw.

He watches intently as your chest begins to heave, your pussy tightens round his cock.

“G-Geralt” you choke out, panicking slightly as your mind fogs.

“your safe, it’s okay, I’ve got you love” he assures you, his hand still cupping your face. Your eyes roll back as your orgasm begins to wash over you, your arm reaching to clutch Geralts. Nails leaving half moon indents in his skin as you moan beneath him. He snakes a hand down between you, callused finger pushing on your puffy clit. “Mm, keep making those pretty noises for me, your doing so well my love, you feel amazing wrapped around my cock” Geralt lets out a broken moan as he spoke, gritting his teeth as your pussy convulsed around him. “ Oh god Geralt, I’m gonna-

“I know, keep your eyes on me, breathe, good girl, good, that’s it” he hisses through his teeth as you clench hard around his cock. You whined as pleasure overcame your senses. Geralt cups your face, . “Let go, come for me” he demands, his stunning eyes wide with lust, brow furrowed slightly, you loose yourself in them as you release around him. Triggered by your orgasm, Geralts cock tightens and he paints your walls with his come, a low moan bubbling from his throat as he does. “Fuck my love that was incredible, you were incredible” he breathes, his voice cracked with pleasure. Your head is fuzzy with the aftermath of your climax, Geralts rough hands rub soothingly up your side.

“I’m going to pull out now, and I’ll clean you up my love, okay”. He states, his voice has that post orgasm croak that you just love and you nod.

You flinch slightly when the warm towel touches your core, Geralt leaning up on the bed on his side next to you. “Sh it’s okay” he soothes. “I love you” you murmur, shifting closer to him, you curl into him as Geralt pulls the quilt over the both of you. Wrapping his big arms around you he pulls you closer, encasing you. You feel safe like this, you always will. “I love you too my love” he smiles, placing a gentle kiss on the top of your head.

#geralt of rivia x reader #the witcher imagine #Geralt of rivia imagine #the witcher x reader #henry cavill imagine #geralt x reader #Geralt of rivia x female reader #Geralt of rivia smut

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ro-is-struggling · 2 years ago

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Secret Encounters || Geralt of Rivia x Reader

Requested by anon

Summary: They know it's wrong, but they can't deny the desire and lust that overcomes them every time they are together.

Warnings: SMUT MINORS DNI, porn with a little bit of plot (not really), fingering, penetrative sex, mirror sex, rough sex, size kink, belly bulge, breeding kink, dirty talk, mentions of cheating (reader is engaged), fem reader (she’s a princess)

English is not my first language

Word count: 3900

Notes: I promise I'll stop writing tragic princess x witcher stories after this one. Also, sorry for the shitty summary but it's only smut so it was kinda hard to come up with something lol

Geralt had never been fond of royalty, but the moment his eyes fell on hers he knew she was different. He didn't really understand why, but he felt some type of way whenever she was near. Her perfume was intoxicating, a sweet scent that lingered on his clothes and skin and accompanied him wherever he went. He could not escape her even when he wandered alone through the forest in search of the beast he had been hired to kill... not even when he was lying in his bed at night, surrounded by the darkness of the room as he tried to rest. Her scent enveloped him at all times, awakening something deep inside him. It drove him crazy, crazy enough to act on his desires.

He knew it was wrong, it was inappropriate to take advantage of the king's hospitality like that. And she knew it was wrong too, she was a princess soon to be married, a woman of high value who had no business with a witcher like Geralt. And yet, neither seemed to be able to stay away from the other. It was as if there was some kind of energy force pulling them together, the very will of destiny imposing itself over their own. When Geralt showed up at her chambers she knew she should have turned him away. No matter how much she had been longing for him to take her in his arms and make her his, the right thing to do was to reject him and move on with her life. In fact, she had opened the door with the intention of doing exactly that, but when her eyes met the imposing figure of the witcher, towering over her as his amber eyes admired her face, she could not resist the temptation. She gave in to her desires, crashing her lips against his in a desperate kiss as she slowly pulled him into her room.

The feel of his touch lingered on her body for days, her skin permanently marked by the roughness of his caresses and the warm wetness of his mouth. The sound of his grunts of pleasure as he buried himself in her echoed in her mind at all times. He was all she could think about. She knew it was wrong, but she needed to feel his hands on her body again, exploring every inch of her skin as he showed her pleasure like no other man could.

Despite their desperation, they were able to keep their hands off each other for a while. Though all their self-control disappeared by the time of Geralt's last day in the castle. After slaying the beast —and collecting his reward— the witcher was ready to leave when the king made him an offer he couldn't resist. There would be a feast in celebration of the fall of the creature that had terrorized the town and Geralt, as their savior, was the guest of honor. He would normally have declined the offer, although the promise of free food and alcohol sounded enticing, he hated the idea of being stuck with a bunch of drunken noblemen. However, this time it gave him the perfect excuse to stay there a while longer and say goodbye to the princess the right way —the way he knew they had both been fantasizing about since their last encounter.

The party quickly turned into a game of cat and mouse, defiant yellow eyes meeting hers in the crowd, admiring her lips as she laughed and the way her body moved as she danced. She was doing it on purpose, accepting the proposals of all the knights who bowed in front of her to provoke him. She wanted to spark a reaction in him, see how far she could push him, how far she could push the boundaries of their secret relationship. The thought of being caught filled her body with adrenaline, her heart pounding so hard against her chest that he could almost hear it over the noise of the party.

She waited for the right moment and took advantage of the first distraction to escape to her bedroom. Her eyes met Geralt's before disappearing behind the side door of the great hall, her desire-laden expression a silent plea for him to follow her. She sat in front of the large mirror in her room waiting for him, removing the jewelry from her hair and combing her hair without any haste. And just as she expected, only a few minutes after her arrival, she felt the sound of the door's wood creaking as it opened. She saw Geralt lock the door behind him in the reflection of the mirror and she had to hold back the smile that wanted to form on her lips —a failed attempt to save some of her decency and not look so desperate.

"You're not supposed to be here." She said as if his presence didn't make her heart race. "It's wrong."

"That's not what you said the other night." Geralt's deep voice was music to her ears, his slightly mocking tone awakening that tingle under her skin. He walked up to her, holding her gaze in the mirror as if challenging her. He stood tall at her back, close enough that she could feel the heat emanating from his body, but not close enough to feel the brush of his hands on her skin.

"The other night was a mistake." She affirmed, setting the comb aside. It was true, their furtive encounter, though pleasurable, had been a mistake. But they both knew well that neither really cared. The desire they felt, the tension in the air, it was all too much, it clouded their thinking leaving them at the mercy of their most primitive feelings.

Geralt reached out his hands to her, brushing her hair aside so he could caress her skin. He noticed how she stifled a sigh through the reflection of the mirror, his warm touch awakening that flame within her. His fingers moved gently across her shoulders, up her neck until they reached her cheeks. She closed her eyes and leaned into his hand, losing herself in the moment. It felt just as she remembered it, warm and hard, yet strangely soft and comforting at the same time. It was as if his hands had never left her skin, as if his caresses were permanently carved into her body.

"Do you wish for me to leave?" he said, his voice barely a raspy whisper. He knew the answer to her question, he could read it on her face, smell it in the air, feel it in the vein in her neck that throbbed rapidly beneath his fingers. But still, he needed to be sure he was right, hear from her lips the plea for his caresses. He needed to know that she was as desperate as he was.

She didn't give him a verbal response, just rose from her seat and pressed her lips to his. Geralt's hands closed around her waist, pulling her body against his as he quickly took control of the kiss. She didn't bother fighting for dominance, acknowledging her subordination to him almost immediately. She didn't need to win, she just needed to feel his hands on her skin again, gripping and caressing every inch of her body in a rush of pleasure until the early morning sun forced them apart.

There was nothing tender and soft about the way Geralt's lips attacked hers, only lust and desperation, but she loved every part of it. She loved the way his tongue invaded her mouth and how his teeth nibbled at her lips before moving his wet kisses down her neck, sucking and biting at the skin without fear of leaving marks. He knew he could do whatever he wanted with her as she was completely at his mercy, surrendered to the pleasure only he could give her. She didn't care if she had to spend the next week finding creative ways to hide the evidence of their furtive encounter, she just needed to feel him. She wanted him to mark her, to declare ownership over her body. She knew she belonged to him, always would, even if she never saw him again after tonight.

Clothes soon became a problem, a barrier that kept them apart, so desperate hands worked carelessly to fix it. Her dress was the first to go, the expensive fabric pooling around her feet leaving her naked body completely exposed to Geralt's hungry gaze. She should have been embarrassed, but nothing but lust and anticipation pumped through her veins. He was looking at her as if she were the most beautiful and sensual woman he had ever seen, as if she were a goddess he had the privilege of pleasing. Never before had anyone looked at her in that way, so intense, so filled with adoration. She loved it, it made her feel special, powerful.

Geralt didn't waste a second, calloused fingers caressing every inch of exposed skin. It awakened a fire inside her, a tingling that spread throughout her body, concentrating on her core. His teeth nibbled at the sensitive skin of her neck, sinking his canines into her as his hands moved down to her breasts, earning a couple of sighs from the princess as he showed attention to her nipples erect with anticipation. He smiled against her neck, proud of himself as the scent of her arousal lingered in the air. It was an intoxicating scent, the sweet forbidden fruit begging him to take it.

When his fingers slipped between her wet folds, she let out a moan of pleasure as her grip on the witcher's shoulders tightened. It was as beautiful as he remembered, a harmonious melody traveling through him and going straight to his cock. It was the sound of temptation, of lust, urging him to carry on, to forget all rules of morality and decorum and take what was his.

“P-please, Geralt.” She pleaded against his lips. Her breathing was rapid and she looked up at him through half-closed eyelids. He slipped two of his fingers inside her with ease, pushing them as deep as he could and moving them until he made her moan. She looked so beautiful like this, her eyes closed in pleasure and her parted lips releasing those beautiful desperate sighs, completely at his mercy.It was an image that would stay in Geralt's mind for quite some time.

"I know, I know," he soothed her, his free hand coming up to caress her cheek. "I have to get you ready for me."

"I-I need to feel you, p-please." She whimpered in a pathetic, desperate attempt to get him to do what she wanted. She needed to feel all of him, his hot skin pressed against hers, his fingernails sinking into the skin of her hips as he buried his cock deep inside her, his ragged breaths in the hollow of her neck. She needed him as much as she needed the air she breathed and could wait no longer.

Thankfully he took pity on her, removing his hands from her body to unbutton his pants. She suppressed the whimper that wanted to escape her throat as she felt empty without his fingers inside her, knowing the sensation would not last for long. Geralt instructed her to turn over and her body obeyed him before she could process his words or wonder what he was up to. Her body no longer belonged to her, it belonged to him and always would.

He held her against his chest for a moment, one hand roaming her body while the other held her head steady facing forward. She could feel his hard member pressed against her lower back as his heat enveloped her completely. Their gazes met in the mirror once more and she saw the darkness of desire staining the beautiful yellow orbs. He buried his nose in her hair, inhaling her intoxicating scent before lowering his lips to her ear.

"I want you to look at yourself in the mirror as I fuck you, princess." Geralt whispered in her ear, his voice firm and slightly deeper than normal. His eyes never left hers in the mirror, studying her reaction in the reflection. "I want you to see how beautiful you look with your face scrunched up in pleasure so you'll remember it after I'm gone and your future husband can't make you feel this good."

He gave her no warning before pushing his hard cock into her tight wet hole, and he wasn't gentle either. A quick thrust of his hips and he was balls deep inside her as her velvety walls struggled to take him. Geralt was big, it was almost hard for him to fully fit inside her despite how aroused she was. But it wasn't painful, not in a bad way at least. She loved the way his cock stretched her, almost impaling her on it when it was all the way in. The burning only added to her pleasure, the knot in her belly tightening with the promise of her orgasm.

Geralt set a fast, torturous pace, earning a string of incoherent moans each time he touched that special place deep inside her. She could feel him twitching inside her as her walls closed around him, desperate to hold him in place. It was almost too much and not enough at the same time, a mixture of feelings born of her need for relief. The sound of skin slapping against skin combined with her cries of pleasure and Geralt's grunts filled the room. It was loud and she wouldn't be surprised if she discovered that someone passing through the corridor could hear them, but she didn't care. She felt too good to worry about anything else.

The pleasure she felt was so intense that she had trouble keeping her eyes open, her heavy eyelids closing involuntarily against the force of Geralt's thrusts. But each time she did, he tightened his grip on her jaw, growling in her ear for her to open them. The image reflected in the mirrored surface was too much for her to take. Her small figure wrapped in the strong arms of her lover towering over her and making her feel even smaller and more insignificant. The bulge forming in her lower belly with each thrust showed just how deep inside her Geralt was. His teeth on her neck, nibbling at the sensitive skin without taking his intense gaze away from her eyes in the mirror. And finally, her face, with parted lips letting out a string of melodious moans, and glassy eyes filled with tears that threatened to escape at the sheer intensity of what she was feeling. The expression of pure pleasure on her face was one she had never seen on her before —and she feared that after tonight she would never see it again.

It was all too much for her, and the possessive way Geralt was acting didn't help her in the slightest. He was determined to leave a mark on her, both physically and mentally. He wanted her to see traces of him on her own skin after he was gone, but he also wanted to make sure she remembered him. Make sure she remembered the intensity of the moment and the way he had made her feel. He wanted her to think of him every time her future husband left her unsatisfied, touching herself to relieve the pressure inside her as images of him in this very moment flashed through her mind.

He made sure to let her know his intentions between grunts of pleasure, feeling her walls close around his member with every word that left his lips. She liked it as much as he did and that only egged him on.

"Geralt, please," she begged, not quite sure of what it was she was asking of him. Please stop because the pleasure traveling through my veins is too much to bear? Please keep going and don't stop until I'm passed out from exhaustion and you've ruined me for the rest of the men? She wasn't sure, both options were equally valid.

"I know... just let go," he encouraged her, his warm breath crashing against the skin of her ear as he spoke. "Just let go for me, princess."

Her body took his words as a command and it wasn't long before the knot in her belly snapped, sending wave after wave of pleasure through her insides. Her orgasm hit her like a pile of bricks, leaving her completely stupid. Geralt's name escaped her lips like a prayer as she lost herself in pleasure. All thought left her mind, she could only feel as her lover's thrusts slowed, her body trembling in his arms from overstimulation.

She only had a couple of seconds to recover, whining as she felt empty when Geralt pulled away from her momentarily. Her legs were weak and she struggled to stand, so he took her in his arms and laid her down on the bed carefully. He settled into the space between her legs, taking a moment to admire her and caress her body before continuing. His hands ran over her warm, sweat-covered skin in an almost gentle way, an act that contrasted with the roughness of his behavior so far but was nonetheless welcomed by her.

The tenderness didn't last long, though, because once he slid his cock inside her once more, he returned to the animalistic grunts and punishing rhythm of his thrusts. This time it was more desperate and erratic, letting her know that he was close to his own orgasm. His cock twitched inside her, threatening to paint her velvety walls with his seed. The very idea was enough to have her on the edge again.

"You feel me, princess?" He said, taking one of her hands and bringing it down to her lower belly. He pressed it against her skin, trapping it between his palm and the bulge forming there from his cock. It added a new sensation and she couldn't contain the moan that escaped her throat. "Feel how deep inside of you I am?

"Fuck," she cursed, eyes rolling back as her free hand clutched at Geralt's wrist to make sure he didn't move it off her belly. The pressure felt too good, wave after wave of pleasure coursing through her with a force that left her breathless.

"I'm the only one who gets is deep, f-fuck, the only one who makes you feel this way." He wasn't asking, it was a clear statement, but still she nodded, letting out repeated affirmations between high-pitched moans.

"I belong to you... My body is forever yours, no one will ever make me feel this good." The animalistic growl he let out at those words almost pushed her over the edge, leaving her on the verge of her second orgasm. She knew he was close too, she could feel it in his erratic thrusts and the way his cock twitched inside her. She needed to feel him come undone for her, to paint her walls white as he emptied his seed inside her. She needed him to mark her, to claim her as his own. They both knew a relationship between them was impossible, but she would always be his in secret. Her body would always miss him.

"Please, I need to feel you." She managed to say between moans and ragged breaths. "I need you to fill me up, please." She sounded pathetic at this point, but she didn't care. All she cared about was feeling Geralt's seed trickling down her thighs as she tried to catch her breath.

The witcher groaned, a cocky smile playing on his lips. One of his hands flew to the headboard of the bed, the wood creaking under his strong grip as he adjusted his position. The new angle allowed him to reach even deeper —if that was even possible—, impaling her on his cock as she cried out in pleasure. Her nails dug into his back, leaving traces of red marks on his skin.

"You're desperate for it, aren't you?" he teased her arrogantly. "Don't worry, princess, I'm gonna shoot my seed so deep inside of you that you'll carry it for days. Is that what you want? You want me to mark you as mine? You want to feel me between your legs while you swear loyalty to your husband?"

"Yes! Fuck, Geralt, please... mark me, claim me as yours, please."

The witcher did not expect to find it so erotic to hear her admit her deepest desires, but he did. It awakened something inside him, a primal desire that took over his body. He became an animal, a fierce, possessive wolf that was desperate for some relief. After all, that was exactly what their relationship was, pure animal instinct, pure lust and desperation. An intense attraction they couldn't resist even when they knew how wrong it was.

He came with a loud grunt, emptying his load inside her warm, tight walls. She felt every drop of it, her cunt filled to the brim with his desire for her. The intensity of his orgasm triggered hers, her body trembling under Geralt's weight, her walls tightening around his cock, milking him for everything he had. His name fell from her lips as pleasure consumed her, a prayer begging him to stay with her. He knew it was impossible, but in that moment - mind clouded with pleasure as he felt her crumbling beneath him - he really considered it. He wanted to feel her body against his again, hear the sound of her voice as she moaned his name outside of his memories. He needed her.

But that was just a fantasy, the desire for the impossible. She was a princess who was soon to be married and he was a witcher who had nothing to do with the court and royal affairs. She was not his —even if her body was— and he was not hers. And that was the hard truth. So when he came to his senses he rose from his place on the bed, where he rested with her beside him. The princess watched him as he dressed, trying to ignore the strange feeling of emptiness that came over her at the thought that once he crossed the threshold of the door she would never see him again.

"Will I ever see you again?" She asked in a whisper, as if afraid of being heard. Geralt admired her naked figure on the bed as he contemplated his answer, liking the way the dim candlelight illuminated her skin covered in a thin layer of sweat. As wrong as it was, he would really like to see her again, but the truth was he didn't know if it would happen. The future was uncertain, especially in his line of work, so to give her a straight answer would be to lie to her.

"Only time will tell."

#geralt of rivia x reader #geralt of rivia x fem reader #geralt of rivia smut #geralt x reader #the witcher x reader #geralt x reader smut #the witcher #geralt of rivia #the witcher netflix #geralt of rivia imagine #henry cavill

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mystra-midnight · 1 year ago

Text

Dark Paradise

summary: geralt was all-consuming, invading every one of your senses; somehow, he'd snaked his way beneath your skin and between your ribs before burrowing into your heart. he lived there now, and you couldn't breathe without him.

warnings: 18+ only. breeding kink. overstimulation. mentions of multiple orgasm. name calling; slut. dom!geralt.

words: 1k.

notes: no one will ever convince me that geralt is a soft man. he is all strength, and arrogance, and hard muscles. and he will dominate his woman. admittedly this is shorter then i wanted it to be, and maybe not my best work, but i do hope you enjoy.

If ever there was something to be grateful for, it was this: being able to fuck his woman raw without the fear of an unwanted pregnancy. Having you naked beneath him was everything Geralt wanted—to watch your velvet walls stretch around his cock's girth, to feel your body tremble as he rocked his hips against your ass, to watch your cum mixed with his be forced from your tight hole with each brutal thrust.

You knew, completely and irrevocably, that there was no chance of falling pregnant with Geralt of Rivia. The trials had made him sterile, though you boiled fennel and drank it regularly to be certain. Your mother taught you from the eve of your first bleed to protect yourself against others, to trust no one but yourself, and that having a child with the wrong man could lead your life to ruin.

But tonight he had come to your cottage on the outskirts of the village in a foul and angry mood, with snarling tongue and gnashing fangs. He refused to tell you what had happened as he forced you down to your knees. All he'd wanted was your naked body beneath him.

"Geralt." Your voice quivered and rose to a crescendo when he speared through the satin clutch of your cunt and hit the sweet spot that sent your eyes spinning. Geralt of Rivia was not a small man—not in any sense of the word. He was tall and impossibly strong. His eyes were intense, and his hair was the colour of starlight. With broad shoulders and a myriad of scars along his body, he was every woman's fantasy.

And he refused to treat you with fragility. To him, you were not a damsel in distress. So he fucked like he fought, with teeth and tongue, and in every position. "I-I can't. S'too much."

Your thighs trembled under the lingering force of the three orgasms Geralt had pulled from the depths of your soul—on his fingers, tongue, and cock. Another one would surely kill you; you would float away from your body and away from him, never to return. But the idea of him filling you again was heavenly and impossible to deny—not when he dominated you so beautifully.

"You can," he grunted, his voice a rough growl. Geralt followed a bead of sweat that dripped down your spine with the tip of his tongue, leaving your sweat-slick skin goosepimpled. His hand followed the same path until he gripped the nape of your neck and pressed you into the mattress, keeping you cemented in place as he filled into you again. “You can, because I’m not stopping.”

Geralt knew that you wouldn't reply—at least not verbally. The impact of his hips against your ass was brutal, forcing the air from your mouth in pretty moans. The clutch of your cunt was more than enough of an answer. He smeared his lips along your shoulder as he shadowed over you like a terrible, haunting visage. The angle made it seem as though he was in your guts, rearranging your organs.

"That's a good girl," he cooed against your skin, his tone positively mocking. "Now, you stay right there while I fuck a baby into you. That's what my slut wants, isn't it? To be swollen with my child?"

He turned feral and ferocious in a flash, ruthlessly rutting into you. He drove you to the brink of yet another orgasm as you clawed at the sheets. Between whoreish moans, your walls tightened around him, leaving you gasping for air. A familiar warmth moved through your aching limbs and raced through your blood while a thunderstorm roared behind your ears.

"Geralt. Geralt, please, I can't. I can't—oh, fuck. There, r-right there." You babbled mindlessly. You felt lost in the sensation of his hands grabbing here, there, and everywhere. You felt lost in the sting of his teeth and tongue and how he tasted your skin. You felt lost in the pressure of his fingers and how he left bruise-shaped prints everywhere he touched.

"Right here?" He demanded. His fingers dug into the curve of your hips as he pulled you back to meet his pelvis, the sound of wet skin connecting echoing loudly in the small cottage. You squirmed and keened when he hit that sweet spot. "Is this what my slut needed—to feel me this deep?"

You didn’t hear him over the thunderstorm, which had grown into a deafening roar that blocked out the world. And as your vision went white, the pressure snapped, and a bolt of lightning sparked a wildfire in your blood. You felt like you were burning alive; the air in your lungs was superheated, and nothing could cool it. You came hard, screaming his name as he held you in place.

Geralt held you tightly, fingerprint bruises decorating your skin while galaxies burst to life inside your veins. The warmth of your cunt was divine, a heavenly caress as he rutted into you, chasing his own release as he threw his head back. "There you go," he grunted. He slapped your ass just hard enough to get your attention. "You're such a good slut. Does it feel good cumming for me while I breed you?"

You still couldn't answer him; each thrust knocked the air from your lungs, leaving your mouth open as you gasped, squealed, and wriggled in his grasp. Geralt didn't seem to mind. With a final thrust, he buried himself. His hand in your hair held you in place and tinged your scalp with a pleasurable sort of pain as the last of your orgasm ebbed away, leaving your clit throbbing in time with your heartbeats.

It was a welcomed feeling when his release painted your walls—a feeling that made your brain foggy. And despite the haze clouding your thoughts, you knew in that moment you would give yourself to this man. Not only your heart, but your body as well. You knew that if there was a way, you would give him what he wanted, and you would let him breed you.

#geralt of rivia #geralt of rivia smut #geralt of rivia fanfiction #geralt of rivia imagine #geralt of rivia x reader #geralt of rivia x you #geralt x you #the witcher #geralt x reader #geralt #geralt fanfiction #geralt smut

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cosmos-coma · 5 months ago

Text

Midwinter Morning

A/N: Happy Midwinter, now please enjoy your regularly scheduled Young Ciri!

Pairing: Geralt of Rivia X Reader

Words: 726

Full Witcher Masterlist | AO3

Like what I do? Support me on Ko-fi!

_______

A thick pile of furs lined the skinny hay-filled bed, the pile moving up and down rhythmically with soft snores. Your head laid peacefully over your scarred Witcher’s chest as you slept, rocked into peace by the movements of his breath. Everything was warm and cozy and perfect here in your little sanctuary within the keep.

It was midwinter morning, a day where thankfully Vesemir let the boys be a little more lax with their training than usual.

Geralt’s hand rubbed idly over your back, half asleep with his eyes closed as he languished in the rare morning off.

“Mmmph…” he grunted from above you, his eyes peeking open to the morning light. The room seemed quiet and still, exactly as it had been last night- down to the small fire still smoldering in the tiny fireplace.

“I think I hear Ciri coming…” He warned through a sleep-roughened voice, though he made no move to get up.

Still not quite awake, you grunted in response, whether you had meant to form actual words though you would never know.

“Mmmm, I definitely hear her coming…” he hummed, bringing his other hand behind her head as he listened to her tiny racing feet. ‘It’s midwinter morning! It’s midwinter morning..!’ Her childish voice rang out, no doubt waking up everyone else in the keep. Geralt grinned as he heard his daughter getting closer. He could wake you up and warn you…. Or he could just have fun watching you get body-slammed by a seven-year-old….. he chose the latter.

He kept one eye peeled open as the door flung open and a flash of white ran into the room, Running and jumping in an arc as she yelled “IT’S MIDWINTER MORNING!!”

Her little body slammed down onto the pair of you, knocking the breath from your body and instantly waking you up. “I’m up! I’m up..!!!” You yelped as you woke.

“It’s midwinter morning, wake up…! I wanna open PRESENTS!” Ciri shouted through a giggle as she rolled around on your back.

“Alright, Ciri… Alright, I think you made your point,” Geralt laughed as he pulled her up on his chest opposite you, giving you the chance to pull her in under the mound of furs.

Her little laughs bounced around the room as you kissed all over her face, torturing her with affection as she tried to wriggle away., “No…! No, stooppp…!” She cried through the laughs, trying to push your face away, “stooooop, we’re wasting precious present time..!”

Even the White wolf had to laugh, sneaking in a kiss to Ciri’s head when she was busy fending you off, “Alright, kid. You’ve made your wake-up call… why don’t you go and make sure all your uncles are up, and we’ll start getting ready for presents, okay? We’ll meet you in the Great Hall.” Geralt negotiated as you tried to continue your onslaught, to little avail.

“And then we eat and open gifts??” She questioned as she looked up at her father, her hands smooshed across your face.

“And then we eat and open gifts… now go on lest someone gets the idea to tickle you..”

With lightning-fast speed she wriggled out of the bed, crawling across the two of you until she finally popped out on the other end. “Eskel…! Lambert…! It’s time to get up…!!” She yelled as she ran out to face the rest of the cold stone hallways.

Laughing, you sighed and leaned back into Geralt’s chest, “Oh, I love her….”

With a bright smile, he nodded, “I’m glad… and I’m glad she has you too…” he mumbled as he continued to rub your back, “I’m glad she has a chance to be a normal kind with you around…”

Your heart melted at his little confession. There was never a doubt in anyone’s mind how much Geralt loved Ciri, it was obvious to even a stranger on the street. But that didn’t stop it from warming your heart every time you heard it.

“I’m glad I can give her a little normalcy too… but I couldn’t do it without you, you know that, right?”

A warm smile grew across his normally stoic expression as his fingers moved to caress your cheek, “I love you, little fox…”

You grinned, your lips pressing a warm kiss into his palm, “I love you too, my big bad Wolf..”

_______

Witcher Taglist: @writingmysanity @novigrad--dreaming @madamemelancholysstuff @dark-academia-slut @beardedladyqueen

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#geralt of rivia x reader #geralt of rivia x you #geralt of rivia imagine #geralt of rivia x y/n #geralt x reader #geralt x y/n #geralt x you #geralt imagine #witcher imagine #the witcher imagine

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ultralightpoe · 2 years ago

Text

Spellbound Part 2 - Geralt of Rivia

Authors Note: Sorry it took so long, I just really had no clue how to do the first part justice

Word Count: 3,876

Warnings: reader is a brothel worker

Description:Part two to the first. FIRST PART HERE

Enjoy!

There were many times in Geralt's life where he felt an undeniable rage, and there were many times that he let that rage affect him until he was forced to suffer the consequences of all his actions. He had learned over the years that there were ways of handling his rage, there were ways of dealing with sadness and pain.

He had been through so much, and yet he stood, and he always told himself that it would be worth it. Soon enough he would find something that would make it all worth it, and he had found that in you.

Your soul matched his in a way he never thought possible, and though you didn’t have the same physical scars you had both been through more than you can imagine. And he always found himself gravitating to you, the one person in the world that he felt never judged or expected anything from him.

Sure, he obviously did not know how to deal with this. He never knew how to talk to you, what to say and when to say it, and he really did not know how to seem casual just as Jaskier always could. Not to mention he was constantly worried about losing you. He felt like a flame, loving something so much and trying to engulf it into warmth only for it to burn and vanish.

You had been through so much, he never wanted you to burn and he couldn’t imagine a life without you.

So, even if he couldn’t show emotion or manage to properly show his love, he allowed Jaskier to grow close to you. Geralt made sure that you were physically safe, warm and fed. It was the least he could do.

He never wanted to leave you wanting for anything, and he desperately tried to find ways to show you yet nothing ever worked.

But then you were his, for one small moment he had you and he felt as though everything was worth it again. He would burn the world down for you, slay any monster and batter any mortal. It was all yours for the taking…

Until you burned.

How ironic, how hard he fought to keep you at arms length only to lose the battle in a split moment, and be proven right just like that.

Now you were gone.

He knew exactly where you were, had already tried to get you, only to be stopped at the door each time. Each time he was stopped he wanted to crush their skulls, storm up to wherever they were keeping you and try to explain.

He would drag you out the door himself just to make sure you never had to do this again. But there were laws, as well as contracts. He would never be allowed to see you unless he could pay the fee, and you would never be allowed to leave unless you could buy out your contract.

If he managed to get to you and help you escape there would still be the hassle of everyone hunting you down, and word spreads from town to town quickly when it comes to Witchers.

“How much?” He growls, keeping his eyes narrowed in on the older woman before him, watching her lean back on her chair and fix her dress. She was unlike any other brothel owner he had come across, the others always had a protective notion for the girls. This one seemed vindictive in every word she spoke.

“Witcher, I have told ye the last 4 times ye have been here that she is not for sale.” She laughs, reaching a foot out to kick the pouch of gold he had laid on the table in front of her. Her dress rides up exposing a very scarred leg, and his stomach tightens at the atrocities you must be going through with this hag and any man she rented you out to. “Y/n is the emerald of all brothels, before she came upon mine she was already widely known for her beauty, not to mention her time with the Witcher? Men are practically killing themselves to have a moment with her. I stand to make more keeping her than I ever would selling her back to you.”

“Her contract-”

“Has another 4 years under my roof. By the end of that I could be far far away from this continent. Don’t you understand?” She leans forward, knocking the satchels down and watching all the gold pieces fall on the ground.

That had been 4 months work, 4 months of Geralt working himself to the bone and saving up in a chance to save you. He hadn’t eaten properly or slept more than 2 hours a night in that span of time.

Images flash through his mind, him ringing this wenches neck in or slamming her head into the fire. Maybe he could slice her head off in one clean motion.

But he doesn’t, because he understands the consequences. So he bites his tongue and stands straighter. “I just want to see her-”

“Then you pay, just as everyone else.” The Madame sneers, leaning across the table. “I don’t give a fuck if you love her witcher, though I don’t believe you are even capable of that, my rules stay the same. You want to see her then you pay for her time.”

He leans forward, smirking a bit when her attitude drops in fear for a moment, before tilting his head. “Then how fucking much?”

“I really do not believe you were worth 230 gold pieces-” Lord Servail huffs, struggling to shove himself back into his trousers. You struggled not to roll your eyes as you sat up, pulling the sheet to cover yourself and looking at the floorboards of the raggedy room.

You had learned that the men of this village did not like to be watched, most of them married and most of them carrying guilt. You had merely assumed Lord Servail to be the same.

“Have you nothing to say, whore?” He bellows, walking across the room to grab at your chin. A moment of panic sinks in, one hand holding the sheet tight while the other grabs at his wrist in an attempt to free yourself.

“I do not understand what you mean, sir-”

“You are boring! You just laid there like a fucking corpse-”

“That didn’t seem to stop you from finishing within a minute-” The slap sounds out and for a second you wonder what he hit, then you open your eyes and feel the stinging on your cheek to realize it had been you.

A bitter laugh slips past your lips as you taste the iron.

Blood trails down past your lips as tears spring up in your eyes, the sheets under you stained and ripped from the past month. You think of Geralt in this moment, wishing that you were near him even if he ignored you.

There had always been a calming factor to the witcher that you never understood, maybe it was a feeling of safety or maybe you just liked that he never showed much anger. He took anything that affected him and made a rational judgment.

He was a man of trust, and he had never let anything harm you. Sure he yelled at you when he thought you stupid, and made condescending remarks, but you never felt as though he would lay a hand on you.

“Is that all?” You sniffle, reaching a hand up to stop the blood as he steps back. The man stares at you before yelling out and storming out of the room, shirt untied as well as the trousers. You hear him yelling at your Madame before he leaves and you move over to the basin in the corner to clean yourself off.

You clean your nose before moving to clean your legs, letting the tears fall freely as you hear her heels come down the hall.

“You’ve just cost yerself yer pay, I’ll tell you that much.” Madame snaps, the door swinging hard enough to make the wall shake as she marches in. “I told ye that Lord Servail was a valued client and you-”

“Smiled pretty and let him cum. He really didn’t complain much until it came time to pay.” You snark, watching her face pull up. “Have I any news? Anyone come to see me?”

It had been a month, and you had kept hoping that maybe Geralt or Jaskier would come to see you. At least try to get you back, but nothing. No letters, no visits, nothing.

“Yer Witcher isn’t comin for ya’. So I suggest you fix yerself up and get back to work.” The Madame snarls, tossing the silk robe at you before storming back out.

That lonely feeling that clung to you the day you left never seemed to fade, it folds in around you now as you pull into yourself. Knees hugged to your chest as you hide your face and cry.

Truly what did you expect? That he would come pounding on the door? Try to save you? The salty taste of the tears mixes in with the iron as you sob. You had been foolish, so very foolish.

Geralt must be at least 6 towns away by now, barely even thinking of you.

“I am terribly sorry to inform ye, Witcher, that my emerald is stacked up for the next week and a half.”

“Bullshit.”

She snarls at him, standing quickly and snatching a heavy book from the desk behind her before slamming it on the table. “Take a fucking look then.”

He doesn’t waste a moment, snapping through the pages one by one until he reaches your ledgers. Your handwriting is at the top, neat and clean from the ink, dated that day you dashed from the tavern.

The very same day he had raced over here to see you.

The day after he had you in his arms.

The memory of it flashes through him, the way he snatched you like a caveman. He tries to reason with himself that he believed it to be consensual, that he hadn’t realized you were under a spell. But it didn’t matter.

He treated you in a way he swore to himself he never would, and he made you so uncomfortable that you ran.

Bile rises in his throat as embarrassment and guilt claw through him, he snaps through your pages to see dozens of signatures on each page. “You have her seeing twelve clients each day?”

“This is a busin-”

“Is she eating enough? Sleeping enough? Are you giving her proper time to rest?”

“I’m not a fucking babysitter-”

“If you are abusing your contract then she has a right to leave!”

She stares at him, watching for a moment with wide eyes as her cheeks go red. Then she fixes herself, clearing her throat before shouting out loud. “BOYS!” He doesn’t fight it as they grab both of his arms, instead he lets them carry him to the door and throw him to the mud below.

“Guessing she didn’t take it?” Jaskier asks, watching Geralt pick himself up, checking to make sure he still had the satchel of gold. “Surprise surprise.”

All Geralt could do at this point was grunt, moving towards Roach as the barb fixes his coat.

“I have another job, heard whispers of a screaming creature in the woods not far off from here. Figured you’d want to go out and make more gold so we can do this all again over and over and over.”

“She’s overworking her, I just know it. Not enough time to eat or sleep-”

“Geralt, as much as I love Y/n, I think we need to….evaluate our current situation.”

“I NEED TO -”

“Get to her. I know. I’m not saying anything otherwise. I just want you to think about whether you want her to see you like this.”

“I want to see her safe.”

“And Y/n would want the same of you. Besides, we obviously have no power against the brothel system.”

“I have fought countless beasts-”

“And I am still your only friend. It’s time you admit it Witcher, humans aren’t your best expertise.”

If this was any other moment Geralt would ignore him, hop onto Roach and pretend the worm didn’t exist. But he was tired, so tired he truly didn’t think he could even climb onto the horse.

“Then what do you suggest?”

“First? Sleep. Then? We find an outside source.”

Two months in and winter had finally come.

You found yourself huddling together with Snae, a brothel worker that had been here a little longer than you, but hadn’t been that much older. This had been the first night you both had off this entire time, and it hadn’t been a purposeful thing.

There had been a ball in the village, apparently a beast had been slaughtered and most of the nobles and rich men left in their carriages far away. Which meant you were free to huddle close to your friend for warmth as you tried to fight off the winter air.

“I imagined this brothel warmer.” She sniffles, pressing her forehead to your arm as you shiver. “I was told this was one of the best-”

“It is….. To their guests.” You laugh, tired and aching. Honestly you could barely move, and you hadn’t managed to make it at dinner hour since you had been with a client. But Snae was nice enough to sneak you in a roll of bread.

“I want to get out of here.” She admits in a quick breath, and you can’t help but smile at the admission.

You had often imagined ways you would escape, but the truth was you had nowhere to go and no one to leave for. What would you have if you left here? Nothing.

So instead you close your eyes, and lean into her as you whisper. “Where would you go?”

“Home. To find my sister.”

“You have a family?”

“A little sister, it’s why I am here. I wanted to make sure she had something to pay for food.” Something tears at your chest, and within a moment you think of a plan.

“Then let’s get you out of here.”

It takes a mere 30 minutes to pack her a travel pack using a sheet from the bed, rushing to your room to pick up the floorboard where you keep the little pay you make, 10 silver coins. Tossing them in her satchel before tiptoeing to the attic where the largest window was.

“Shhh.” You whisper when she slips, the wood beneath her scraping under her shoe. Helping her stand before moving to the window. Unlatching it was easy, the winter air covering both of you in a moment. “You swill slide from this section to the next. Until you make it to that tree.”

“You go first.”

“I am not coming.” You laugh, clearing some of the snow from the sill.

“You must.”

“No, I have nothing. Besides, one of us needs to stay and give you time.”

“Y/n-”

“If she begins hunting you then go and find the witcher. Do you hear me?”

“He wouldn’t help someone like me.” She laughs, and you merely stare at her.

“I think you would be surprised of just how good of a person the Witcher is, though he likes to pretend he is not.”

“What should I say to him if I must find him?”

“That the Geralt I know would keep you safe. Now go.”

You help her climb up the sill and onto the roof, watching her slide down in the flimsy robe Madame forces you to wear and make sure she makes it to the tree safely before closing the window.

You allow yourself one moment to press your forehead against the cold glass of it, your breath hitting the glass to form a smudge. You imagine escaping yourself, maybe going out to find Jaskier.

But that was unrealistic.

And you were obviously unwanted.

“Please, it’s very important-” A strong female voice fills the air as Geralt breathes in the scent of roast and ale. There was also smoke from the fires but he was far too hungry to admire that scent on it’s own. “They said that he was here and-”

“First round of ale on me.” Jaskier sings out, moving to the counter as Geralt rolls his eyes. Jaskier was carrying his gold sack so truly the first round was on him.

He was six villages away from you right now, landing at a cheap tavern for the night before they set up camp. They were here to listen for jobs.

The plan, as terrible as it was, had been to travel to find Yennefer and along the way they would earn some extra gold. That way when they go they can send the witch in to make the deal, or at least pretend to make the deal as she can try to sneak you out.

It was a terrible plan……. Because it was Jaskiers plan.

“Please, I need to find the witcher.” That draws Geralt's attention away from the hearth he had been glaring into, head whipping to spot the young woman clutching the shoulders of a little girl as she begs the man once more. “If you could just tell me where he would be staying-”

“Witchers aren’t allowed in the fucking taverns here, so shut yer trap before I put it to work-.” Before Geralt could stop himself his hand is shooting out, catching the man by the back of the neck. At his movement the hood he had been wearing falls and the people around him all quiet down.

The womens eyes fall to him, widening. “You are just as Y/n described.”

Something tightens in his chest at the mention of your name, and he finds himself nodding to Jaskier to lead the girl outside. The air hits him, the warmth gone but there was nothing that would hinder him from the conversation.

“You know Y/n?” His voice is rough, the heat traveling his skin hiding him from the cold. The woman's eyes are filled with tears and the young girl is shoving her face in the smallest scrap of dress he had seen, so in one quick moment he rips his hood off to hand to them. “Is that what you wear in this cold?” “Please, I… I’m from the same brothel as Y/n and she helped me escape. All my money has gone to keeping my sister warm….. Y/n said that you would help. She said the Geralt she knew would help.”

“Where is she?” His heart is thundering through his ribcage at this point, and he can see Jaskier emerging from the tavern. “Did she make it-”

“She didn’t come.”

“Why?”

“Probably scared she wouldn’t make it out. Or might believe she is all alone and has nothing to escape for.” The feminine voice makes Geralt jump through his skin. Suddenly she is there, smelling of smoke and lavender.

“Yennefer.” Jaskier gasps, but Geralt hadn’t needed him to let him know.

“Tell me, Geralt of Rivia, about the woman who broke the witcher.”

You were no longer tired at this point, truly you were nothing.

You didn’t speak, missed more meal times than not from being stuck with clients and at this point you didn’t seem to care. You were just breathing, and that was as much energy as you can muster.

Three months into this place had truly broken you.

Yennefer thought this place smelled of urine and death, and though she respected the females brave enough to work here she had absolutely no fucking clue why any man would risk stepping in here.

One look at the young girl passing her with a bruise on her cheek told her all she needed to know. The men that came here didn’t care about anything but getting themselves wet and letting off some steam.

“I have a room upstairs, I charge 50 a month in rent, half your earnings are to the house and the rest belong to you.” A voice sounds out, drawing Yennerfers attention away from the young girl with the bruise, back to the raggedy woman sitting at the counter.

“Excuse me?”

“I have a room for ye-”

“I’m not here for a room. I’m here for a girl.”

“Really?”

Yennefer slaps 2 gold coins onto the counter, a smirk crossing her face as the woman's eyes widen in greed. “I was told you had an emerald here.”

“You’re here for Y/n….only problem there is it’s double for her time.” Yennefer sighs, taking out one more coin and slapping it down. “I said double.”

“And I am willing to go and tell the town that your girls are sick.”

“What do you want with Y/n?”

“I figured you wouldn’t need me to explain how your business works but if you need a lesson in fucking then you would have to pay ME double.”

“She is in the top room. Don’t bother knocking.” And just like that Yennefer is moving, picking up her skirts to walk up the steps, trying not to breathe in the smells as she reaches your room.

Just as the brothel worker said she doesn’t bother knocking, and it was clear why when she walked in.

The beauty Geralt had described last night was still there, just one look and even Yennefer was nearly at a loss for words. But the spark, the light of you was gone. You stared at the wall before you, empty and gone.

“Y/n?” She calls, closing the door behind her. “Y/n…”

“I can’t….she said I’d have a day.” You sob, pulling into yourself.

“You’ll have more than a day, I can promise that.” Yennefer smiles, moving closer slowly. “Your witcher has sent me.”

“My witcher?” There it was, some of that spark. “He’s gonna be mad at me.”

“Now that I can swear on. Come.”

Geralt stood pacing back and forth on the pathway as he waited for Yennefers portal to open, his heart in his throat and his eyes glued to the space before him.

Jaskier waited at the inn they had found with the girl you had saved, Snae. But for now it would just be him waiting for Yennefer, far enough from the town that they would have a head start if anyone went looking for you whilst the rest would cause a stir and send them on a chase.

They had learned from Snae that Madame had sent a bounty out on her, so Geralt could only imagine what she would do to you. ‘Her emerald’.

Then it was there, forming like a cloud at first until it got bigger and bigger until it began showing like a mirror.

Then Yennefers hand came through and Geralt found himself launching forward as she stepped through, both arms wrapped around…..you.

He was there, his hands on you as soon as he could, keeping you upright as Yennefer lets go. “Y/n.”

“Please don’t be mad.” You whisper.

“What has she done to you…..”

Part 3 on October 30th

@sagelovesreading

@lashipperrubia @freyafriggafrey @cookielovesbook-akie @whatishappeninghere81 @livesinfantasyland @multiifandomhoe @amara-75 @unfxrgetwble @vlynccx @redlovett @yorkeylover @mxtokko @readinggirl29 @mollymal @fullmoonshadowwrites @rileytwenty @glasschampagne @caffieneaddictt18 @kittiowolf210 @purple-blommie @abrunettefangirlnerd @babezawa

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storiesforallfandoms · 1 year ago

Text

destiny ~ geralt of rivia;the witcher

word count: 1749

request?: no

description: after a long, rough journey, the princess feels safe enough to sleep, so her mage talks with the witcher

pairing: geralt of rivia x female!reader

warnings: swearing, use of y/n

masterlist (one, two, three)

It was a long, tiring journey to bring Princess Ciri to find her destiny; the Witcher. The poor girl, only a child, had seen far more than anyone her age should ever see. Her grandmother had been smart enough to send a Mage with her at least, but there was only so much one Mage could do against the threats they had faced. When they had finally found him, stood alone after his own battle, and Ciri ran to embrace him, (Y/N) sighed in relief and finally allowed her body to relax.

They set up camp for the night. Geralt promised them he would find them somewhere with an actual bed for the next night, but Ciri could care less about where she was sleeping. (Y/N) knew she felt relieved, too. And finally the young princess could sleep knowing that she was safe.

Ciri was sound asleep next to a fire (Y/N) had built to keep her warm. The Mage was sat against a tree nearby, just watching. Knowing that Ciri was safe, that she felt safe enough to finally let her guard down, gave (Y/N) such a sense of relief that she felt like she could finally breathe again.

“You should be sleeping as well.”

(Y/N) looked up to see Geralt stood over her. She was surprised a man of his size was able to move so silently, but then again it was probably a skill he had to pick up as a Witcher.

“I would imagine you are just as exhausted as she,” he said.

“I am,” (YN) confirmed. “But not so exhausted that my body wishes to rest just yet. I guess it hasn’t realized yet that there is no threat anymore.”

“There are still plenty of threats.”

She shook her head. “Not tonight. Tonight, she rests soundly, and she is safe.”

Geralt looked over at the sleeping girl. For years he had been trying to deny Ciri. He didn’t believe in destiny, and he was the last person who should be looking after a child. But now that she was here, unharmed and at peace, he couldn’t deny that he felt relief as well. There were still plenty of threats out there, that much was still true, but he decided to agree with (Y/N) just this once. Tonight, they were all safe.

Geralt sat across from her. “You did well in protecting her. She likely wouldn’t have made it this far on her own.”

“That’s what I was afraid of,” (Y/N) admitted. “I promised her grandmother that nothing would happen to her, and I am not one to break a promise.”

“I was unaware that Queen Calanthe had a Mage in her kingdom.”

“I’m not a royal Mage. Just an old friend that she asked a favor of.”

“A very good friend to risk your life.”

(Y/N) smiled and shrugged. “I have known Ciri since birth, and her mother before her. I would do anything to keep that girl safe.”

She was gazing at Ciri again. Geralt noticed the look on her face. “Do you have children of your own?”

“Oh, Gods no. Those are very uncommon in my line of work.”

“No lover either, then?”

She chuckled. “Also very uncommon. It’s hard to let yourself fall in love when you are immortal.”

Geralt wasn’t sure why he even asked. It felt like the logical next question after asking if she had children, but Geralt cared very little if she had said yes to having a lover. Or, so he thought anyways.

(Y/N) looked back to him, a sly grin on her face. “Queen Calnthe told me about your ties to Ciri.”

Geralt grunted. “I’m sure she did.”

“She could hardly tell the story without a string of profanities.” (Y/N) giggled. “No one has ever made the queen more angry than Geralt of Rivia.”

Geralt found himself smiling as well.

“Well,” (Y/N) said, tilting her head a little. “Would you look at that.”

“What?” he asked.

“The Witcher smiles. And he looks quiet handsome doing so.”

(Y/N) was nothing if not forward. One does not live for many decades and not become bold and forward. She felt a little delight when she saw a brief look of shock on Geralt’s face. She certainly wasn’t lying, though. Anyone with eyes could see that Geralt was good looking. She was sure he was able to use that to his advantage as well.

Silence fell over them. The only sounds were the wildlife around them and the crackling fire. Both of them turned to check on Ciri at the same time, as if some sort of instinct kicked in for them both. (Y/N) took Geralt’s distraction as an opportunity to really study him. She had seen a look in his eyes when Ciri had run to him earlier, but it was so brief that she couldn’t place it at the time. He had been wearing his tough guy mask since, except for this moment. As he gazed at Ciri, (Y/N) could see two emotions on his face: relief and worry.

“The queen also told me,” (Y/N) said, drawing Geralt’s attention back to her, “that you weren’t going to claim Cirilla at first. She said you called Law of Surprise without truly believing in it.”

Geralt grunted. “All that bullshit about destiny. I didn’t believe any of it. I called Law of Surprise because they insisted on something for me saving Urcheon’s life. I didn’t actually believe I would get anything.”

“And yet...” (Y/N) glanced towards the sleeping princess.

He nodded. “I didn’t want a child by any means. This is not a life for a child. If destiny is real, it has played a cruel trick on her.”

“Or it has given her a father that she so dearly needed after her own passed.”

“And a mother?”

(Y/N) smiled. She couldn’t help it. She hadn’t thought about the next step after Ciri was united with Geralt. Truthfully, she didn’t want to think about it. The thought of being separated from Ciri hurt too much, but she didn’t expect Geralt to want her to travel with them. He had been travelling alone for so many years that she was sure it would take time for him to get used to Ciri being with him, let alone if (Y/N) joined as well. She felt full of joy hearing Geralt insinuate that he wanted her to continue travelling with them as well. She wasn’t ready to say goodbye to Ciri just yet, or to Geralt for that matter.

“What a family we’d be,” she laughed. “A Witcher, a Mage, and a princess. Sounds like the beginning of a terrible joke.”

Geralt chuckled as well. (Y/N)’s smile broke as she let out a yawn.

“You should get some sleep,” Geralt told her.

“As should you.”

“I will.”

(Y/N) nodded. She wasn’t in any position to argue with him over whether or not he was actually going to sleep. She could feel herself finally being bogged down by her fatigue and knew it wouldn’t be long until she gave in completely.

Geralt’s eyes followed her as she moved to her knees. Instead of rising, she leaned towards him to close the gap between them. She lightly pressed her lips to his cheek, leaving a gentle kiss there before pulling away. He tried to keep his face unchanged as she sat back to look at him.

“Goodnight, Geralt.”

“Goodnight, (Y/N).”

~~~~~~

The sun was high in the sky when (Y/N) woke the next day. The fire had gone out and the heat was instead replaced by the scorching sun. (Y/N) blinked a few times, trying to get her eyes used to the brightness of day. When she finally managed to clear her vision, she noticed she was alone at the camp.

She quickly sat up and looked around. There was barely any signs that anyone else had ever been here. Just the kindle left over from the fire she had lit for Ciri. She felt herself beginning to panic. Had they left her? Had someone taken Ciri and Geralt went after them? Had Geralt changed his mind about having her join them?

She was getting to her feet when she heard the sound of horse hooves against the ground. A horse broke through the clearing in a fast trot before coming to a stop. (Y/N) breathed a sigh of relief when Ciri jumped down from the back of the horse.

“Good morning,” the young princess said, walking up to wrap her arms around (Y/N). The Mage was taken back by the gesture at first, but then happily hugged Ciri back.

“More like good afternoon,” Geralt commented, jumping down from his horse as well. “You’ve been asleep for hours. We went on to find food without you.”

“Forgive me for being tired,” (Y/N) said, playfully glaring at Geralt. To Ciri, she asked, “Did you sleep well, princess?”

“The best I’ve slept since we left Cintra,” Ciri admitted.

(Y/N) smiled and cupped her face. “You are safe now, princess. The Witcher and I will look after you and make sure no one will cause you any harm.”

Ciri looked between (Y/N) and Geralt, a smile pulling at the corners of her lips. “You’ll be staying with us?”

“Of course. I’ve come too far in this journey to let you go on without me. Although, I will need something to eat in order to continue on.”

She eyed Geralt. He chuckled and said, “Alright then, let’s find you something to eat as well.”

They went on foot with Geralt leading his horse behind him. Ciri was between the two of them, protected by her Mage and her Witcher.

“I was thinking,” Geralt said after some time of walking, “about our discussion last night. About destiny.”

(Y/N) looked over at him. “Yes?”

“Maybe there is such thing as destiny, and maybe it isn’t as bad as I once thought.”

“And what brought you to that conclusion?”

“Ciri was meant to be my destiny, but she wasn’t the only good thing that destiny brought to me.”

He looked directly at her when he spoke. She felt her heart flutter in her chest. She had no good response, so she just kept walking, a smile on her face.

She would have to thank destiny for bringing her to Geralt as well.

#geralt of rivia #geralt x reader #geralt of rivia imagine #henry cavill #henry cavill imagine #henry cavill x reader #the witcher #the witcher imagine #imagine #one shot #fanfiction #fanfic #fandom

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little-jana · 5 months ago

Text

"Playing With Fire"

Pairing: Geralt of Rivia x f!reader

Genre: heated, no smut

Warnings: teasing, hot kisses, no s*x, sexual tension

Words: 1,9k

Summary: In a crowded tavern, a playful and daring exchange between the reader and Geralt ignites a passionate connection, leading to something heated.

The tavern was buzzing with energy as usual—laughter, clinking mugs, and the occasional burst of song filling the air. But there, in the corner, sat Geralt of Rivia, as solitary and stoic as ever. His silver hair gleamed faintly in the dim light, his broad shoulders hunched slightly as he sipped from a mug, his eyes scanning the room, though it was clear he wasn’t truly present.

I’d watched him for weeks now, from across crowded rooms or from behind the counter where I worked, wondering what it was about him that made him so... captivating. Sure, he had the usual rugged charm, but there was something more—something hidden under all that leather and steel. A mystery I couldn’t quite solve, though I was more than eager to try.

Tonight, the decision was made. I wasn’t going to wait any longer.

I slipped out of my seat and made my way toward the bar, my eyes never leaving him. Geralt was like a magnet, pulling me in, even if he wasn’t aware of it. I took a slow, purposeful walk toward him, and as I drew near, I gave him a teasing smile—one that I was sure would make him pause.

I slid onto the stool next to him, leaning forward just a little. "Drinking alone again, Geralt?" I asked, my voice light, but there was a mischievous edge beneath it. "Is that really how you spend your nights? No friends to join you? No one to keep you company?"

He glanced at me briefly, his amber eyes sweeping over me with that unreadable expression of his. He didn’t say anything at first, just took a slow sip of his drink, and then finally muttered, “Not in the mood for company.”

I raised an eyebrow, an amused smile tugging at my lips. “Oh? A man like you? Surely someone’s tried to keep you company tonight.” I leaned in just slightly, making sure he could feel my presence, but not too much. Just enough to make him aware. “Or perhaps you’re waiting for someone special?”

Geralt’s eyes flickered with the slightest hint of amusement. He set his mug down with a soft thud, then turned to face me more fully, his posture relaxed but guarded. “I don’t have time for ‘someone special,’” he said, his voice as gravelly and rough as ever.

My lips curved into an even wider grin, the playful challenge in me stirring. “Oh, so no interest in anyone here?” I glanced around the room, making sure he saw the women who openly watched him from their corners. “Not even a little?”

His gaze followed mine briefly, but there was no real interest in his eyes. “Not my type,” he muttered, his voice devoid of inflection.

“Well, that’s convenient,” I teased, giving him a sidelong glance. “It would be a shame to waste such… assets.” My eyes flicked over his broad shoulders, down to his strong hands resting on the bar. “I’m sure you’d make some lucky woman very happy if you’d just stop being so… stubborn.”

I could feel the subtle shift in the atmosphere between us. His jaw tightened ever so slightly, but the small flash of amusement didn’t escape me. He leaned in just enough so that our words became private, just between the two of us. “You seem to know a lot about what I need,” he said, his tone low and laced with something I couldn’t quite place.

I leaned in closer, my lips brushing the edge of my glass as I sipped from it. “Well, I don’t like to brag,” I began with a teasing smile. “But I’m rather good at reading people.” My eyes locked with his then, a spark of playful challenge igniting between us. “And you, Geralt,” I whispered, leaning just a little closer, “are a very easy man to read.”

His eyes narrowed slightly, the amber flicker darkening. “Is that so?”

“Mm-hmm,” I hummed, dragging out the word. “You’re not as unreadable as you think you are. I mean,” I said, drawing my finger along the rim of my glass, “you’re sitting here alone, brooding in a tavern full of people. And yet…” I paused, letting the silence stretch just enough for him to bite. “…You’ve been staring at me since I walked in. What’s that about, hmm?”

Geralt’s lips twitched as if holding back a smile, but his gaze remained fixed on me. He didn’t immediately answer, which only made me more curious—and more determined to push him further.

I tilted my head, my lips curling into a half-smile. “Tell me, Geralt, are you always this elusive? Or are you just… waiting for someone to make the first move?”

His response was a low growl, one that reverberated from deep in his chest. My eyes widened slightly, but I didn’t flinch. It was exactly what I wanted. The growl was a warning, yes, but it was also a challenge, and I wasn’t about to back down.

“You play with fire,” he muttered, his voice low and dangerous, a thin thread of amusement woven in.

I shifted closer to him, my knee brushing against his beneath the bar. “I’ve always liked fire,” I said, my voice soft but laced with challenge. “It’s the thrill of it. You never know how hot it’s going to get until you’re already burned.”

His eyes flickered, and the air between us seemed to hum with electricity. I could feel his growing awareness of me—of the flirtation that had escalated from playful teasing to something more potent, more dangerous.

Geralt finally shifted his weight, just enough to close the space between us, his body leaning toward mine, his breath brushing against my ear as he spoke. “You’ve got a sharp tongue,” he murmured, his voice low, dangerously enticing. “And I’m starting to wonder what else you’re good at.

I let out a soft chuckle, brushing a strand of hair behind my ear. “Wouldn’t you like to find out?”

Before I could even process what was happening, Geralt’s hand shot out, grabbing my wrist with a firm grip and pulling me toward him. His lips captured mine in a kiss that was anything but tentative. There was no teasing, no drawn-out seduction. It was fierce, raw, desperate.

His mouth moved against mine with urgency, the pressure of his kiss almost startling at first, as though he’d been holding himself back for far too long. I didn’t resist, meeting him with just as much intensity. My hands tangled in his hair, pulling him closer, deepening the kiss, my body pressing up against his as I felt the heat of his chest through the thin fabric of his tunic.

Geralt growled low in his throat, the sound reverberating through the kiss, and it only made my heart race faster. His hand moved from my wrist, sliding around my waist, pulling me even closer until I could feel every inch of him—hard, warm, and demanding.

When we finally broke apart, gasping for air, my lips tingled with the taste of him, and I could feel the wild rush of adrenaline still coursing through me. I was breathless, but it didn’t matter. I couldn’t take my eyes off him. His gaze was heated, intense, as though he was just as affected by the kiss as I was.

“You’re dangerous,” he rasped, his voice thick with desire.

I smiled, my fingers trailing lightly along his jaw. “I like it that way,” I whispered, leaning in just enough to brush my lips against his once more. “And you, Geralt, are exactly the kind of danger I’m looking for.”

His eyes darkened, but there was no hesitation when he leaned in to kiss me again—this time slower, deeper, as though he was savoring every second. His hands were gentle now, but no less possessive, cradling my face as he kissed me with a tenderness that made my heart race all over again.

The world around us faded into the background, and all that was left was the feel of his lips on mine, the warmth of his body against me. For the first time, it felt like Geralt wasn’t just resisting the pull between us. He was giving in to it.

And I couldn’t have been happier.

#the witcher #the witcher imagine #the witcher one shot #geralt of rivia #geralt of rivia imagine #geralt of rivia x reader #geralt x reader #the witcher smut

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theladyofmanyfandomsfanfiction · 1 year ago

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Imagine Geralt realising how pissed you are after running into you again…

It was another busy day where knights, men and women of all corners came in to rest their battle-weary feet and drink mead. There would be the occasional brawl but they were nothing when you compared it to battling a cursed wyvern with a blindfold.

You exited the back room having just refilled the pitcher of cool mead when a familiar grunt caught your attention. Just behind a rowdy table of farmers, in the corner, sat the Witcher - Geralt of Rivia - and a bard who was far too chipper while sober.

Inching a little closer, you busied yourself with empty flagons while remaining within earshot of the pair.

“Come on - it’s not a bad lyric. Ah, what do you know? You can wield a sword but not understand the complex meaning behind a beautiful string of words.” The bard said.

Geralt scoffed. “It wasn’t complex.”

An old man slid a few coins across the table for the service which you pocketed and then moved on to the next.

“We can’t stay long.” Geralt told his companion. You glanced back briefly and saw the brightly dressed man staring into his coin satchel, concerned.

“I could swear there was more silver in here. Geralt, I think I’ve been indecently swindled.”

You wanted to confirm that the man could easily have fallen prey to the notorious pick-pockets that haunt the tavern but you stayed silent, now distracted by a customer who ordered some pies.

“Don’t forget the carrots this time.” He reminded.

You wanted to tell him where to shove his carrots but heard your name being shouted from across the floor.

“Y/n, I need a word!” It was the tavern owner who enjoyed paying you less than what you were owed. With a sigh, you trudged over to him away from most prying ears. “You’ve been waiting on those tables long enough. Deliver those pies and refill goblets on the double or I’ll show you out the door.”

You had half a mind to bite back but chose to hold the words at bay. In ten minutes, the pie was ready to be collected from the kitchens. As you walked it to the table, you made the decision to confront Geralt but upon approaching his table, found that the Witcher and his bard had vanished, leaving behind some coins for the hospitality.

Geralt would have heard your name being bellowed. He would have seen you answer the call. And yet, he still left?

Typical!

The farmer who had ordered the food found his plate empty as you swerved around his chair and rushed out the wooden door. Turning left, you followed the small path down to where riders often tied their horses, your own being one of them - spotting the familiar silver hair and lute of the bard.

Words appeared to have failed and rational thoughts had abandoned your mind the second you fled.

Your hand flipped the pie out of its casing and with one, well-aimed throw, found its mark. The bard screamed and the Witcher stopped in his tracks instantly stilling for a few seconds.

Then he turned, his jaw clenched. “Did you throw a meat pie at my head?”

You tossed the empty pan over your shoulder. “You bet I did and I’ll do it again.”

The bard at Geralt’s side grabbed his guitar and hid behind the broad-shouldered man fearing that he would be next. “Oh, they’re pissed. What did you do?”

Geralt exhaled as he pulled stray bits of pastry out of his locks. “I’m not sure…”

“Not sure? You fucking ignored me in the tavern! Friends for years and it doesn’t warrant a simple ‘hello’?” You yelled.

Jaskier peered out from behind, “Oh, he’s always like that. We’ve been friends for several weeks and he pretends to hardly know me - such a jest.” He chuckled to himself quite fondly.

Ignoring the brightly coloured song man, Geralt addressed you, now free from the discarded food. He had indeed acknowledged the your presence the minute he set foot in the tavern but found himself reliving old memories instead - some good, others painful.

“I didn’t think you’d want to see me after that business with the striga.”

“The striga?” You repeated, remembering the event he was referring to where he had taken claim over the beasts defeat instead of giving you proper recognition. “That was over a year ago, I was bitter for perhaps a few weeks but no more. But you wouldn’t know that because you ran off with Roach.”

“I didn’t run off - I just - you were injured and I had no reason to hang around while you healed.” The Witcher explained. “In hindsight, I probably should have checked in.”

You nodded vehemently. “And since you didn’t, you’re very deserving of that meat pie.”

“The pie was mean.” Geralt frowned.

“Oh a tale of a strained but beautiful friendship filled with battles and miscommunication - you must regale me with the details.” Jaskier grinned.

You would gladly do so if your old friend would have your company once more. Raising a brow at Geralt, you posed the silent question.

“Don’t you have a job?” Geralt asked.

You squinted in return. “I abandoned my post and stole a pie. I’m surely fired.”

“Fine - but only until the next village.” The Witcher negotiated, knowing full well that his friend would likely be staying for a longer time. He grabbed the reins and pulled himself up on his horse with a small grunt.

You shared a similar grin to the bard and sent a high whistle into the air to call forth your own steed for the journey ahead.

When the horse approached, you took hold of the reins and walked alongside Jaskier.

“While we’re on the topic, I’ll tell you about the time when Geralt fought an ifrit almost fully naked.” You winked and caught the eye roll on your friends face.

Jaskier pulled his guitar to the front and strummed a few strings to start a catchy tune. “Oh, I’m ready for this.”

~ More imagines here ~

#theladyofmanyfandoms #theladyofmanyfandomsfanfiction #gif is not mine #witcher x reader #witcher imagine #geralt imagine #geralt x reader #jaskier imagine #jason x reader #jaskier x reader #geralt of river x reader #geralt of rivia imagine #the witcher x reader #the witcher imagine

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cardierreh15 · 5 months ago

Text

The Lost Prince of House Targaryen

hi there 🖤 hello. Its been a while hasn’t it? Well, I hope you all enjoy this first chapter. It took me ages to finish. Enjoy ❤️

***I do not give anyone permission to copy and/or repost and translate my work!!!

Warning 18+: Cursing , Violence , Blood , Death & Gore , Vivid Depictions of Burning Flesh , Mentions of Rape.

Pairings: Tytus Snow (Geralt of Rivia) x Alyssa Landon (black!plus size female)

Description: When Tytus goes out for his weekly hunt, he runs into a bit of trouble.

Word Count: 5.5K

Song: That Unwanted Animal by The Amazing Devil

The Domino Effect

The boy stood in the midst of an unfamiliar hall. The place was quite spacious, with only a small bit of light flowing in from the windows. Dust floated in the air, a tell-tale sign that no one had been in this room for quite some time.

His little face was smeared in dirt with beads of sweat forming over the bridge of his nose and forehead. His hair was stuck against his scalp, also dirty and sweaty. Covered in filth, he had no idea where he was nor where he’d come from.

The lad coughed and mustered out, ‘Hello?’

With only his echo answering him, an unsettling feeling began to weigh on his shoulders.

‘Mother?’

He called out once more, looking over his shoulders and even doing a full 360 spin to check his surroundings. Suddenly, he heard soft whispers. The voices weren’t exactly approachable and alluring but it gave him hope. Perhaps he’d find answers as to where he was.

‘Wh-who’s there?’

My Prince. Come to me.

The word “Prince” caused him to tense. Only a quarter of a handful of folks knew about who he was. Who was this being that called to him?

His curiosity outshined his fear and caused him to follow the enticing whispers.

Young Prince. The people’s Prince.

‘I-I’m not a Prince! I’m—I’m just a bastard. Nothing more.’

Is that what they tell you boy?

He grew quiet and looked down in disappointment.

Oh sweet child. You are more than even you can imagine!

The overlapping of whispers had faded and in came the view of something the young man never thought he’d see in person. There sat upon countless steps, were thousands of swords fused and molten into one seat. The infamous Iron Throne.

He was intimidated by it as it was a lot bigger than his little mind could’ve imagined. He also felt a lot of things at that moment. Fear, Shock and Excitement all in one.

‘The… The Iron Throne…’

The voice had returned but in singular and easier to comprehend, ‘Yes, my Prince. Yours. Your birthright. Go to it.’

‘Mine?’

Swallowing hard, he allowed this ominous voice to guide him up the stone steps that seem to ascend miles and miles up. By the time he’d made it up to the top, he was now a man and no longer a child.

‘Yours.’

His hair and face was clean; free of dirt, dust and grime. Purely white, it cascaded down between his shoulder blades. He wore black and red royal robes. Red and black scales donned his wide shoulders and arms, resembling the ancestors of his guardian angel.

He stood tall and fierce. Eyes so sure and positive about who he was.

Beside him stood his father and his uncle Daemon. His father held the gaze of a proud mentor while Daemon reflected a gaze of malice and hatred. He was never the type to care about others' opinions of him. He answered to no one but his mother and her alone.

‘Touch it.’ The King requested as he placed his large deteriorating hand on his shoulder. Without rebuttal, the Prince reached down to the armrest, casually allowing the blades of swords to pierce and carve into his skin. He didn’t falter but dug the blades in once more.

‘Sit, my King. It is yours.’ Daemon added on, his voice stern and firm.

The young man carefully pulled his palm away from the armrest and turned to face his elders before sitting down upon the prickly seat. His father took off his shiny crown, immediately unmasking the truth of his illness.

The King had lost an abundance of his beautiful white hair, along with the weight that’d kept him youthful and healthy. Half of his face was sunken, and eaten away by decay; he’d even lost an eye and a hole took place in his cheek, revealing damaged jawbone and teeth.

And yet, Daemon kept his youth and health.

Sitting back against the throne, swords impaled through the young king’s chest and torso, causing blood to seep and bleed into the crevices of the throne. He remained unphased as the throne began to bleed him dry.

Though, he was able to take deep, fulfilling breaths.

The Dead King and Loathing Prince stood in idle as the young man poured his life into who he was. Into who the Targaryens were.

‘This is who you are. You are the true heir, Tytus Targaryen.’

The King smiled proudly before weakly bowing his head. Daemon refused to bow but instead just stepped to the side.

Revealed onto him, were hundreds of not thousands of his people bowing in his wake. Everything seemed so … promising. But he couldn’t celebrate this victory without the woman he adored most. His mother. Tytus searched amongst bowing men and women but to no avail. That was until he’d finally looked down into his lap.

The severed head of his mother laid there. A silent scream left his chest as bloodied tears filled his bright golden eyes. He just kept mouthing, Mama! Mama! Mommy!

The redness in her eyes frightened him so; mimicking lightning bolts on the white orb. Her blue irises were halfway rolled and her eye bags were as dark as her chapped lips.

Abruptly, her eyes had come to be, cutting at him with an unfamiliar yet haunting gaze, ‘Ungrateful.’ She uttered.

Confused beyond measure, his head fell to the side.

‘Morning.’

***

A sudden and breathless gasp had awakened him out of his sleep, with his bright eyes flashing open he could’ve burned a hole into the cabin ceiling. He’d immediately fell into a fit of coughs and heaves so hard it made his chest hurt.

The frantic footsteps had echoed throughout the cabin. ‘Tytus?!’ The woman exclaimed before she damn near knocked down the bedroom door.

With face red as beets and the pleading look in his eyes, his mother rushed to his aid. ‘My son! Are you alright?!’

His head felt dizzy and his chest felt as if his lungs were on fire. He’d closed his eyes to focus on his breathing while he nodded. Finally coming back to his senses, his head fell back against the small pillow as a lively breath left his lips.

His mother, Sondra, had also let out a sigh in relief. ‘Another nightmare?’

He rubbed at his temples, quietly.

The woman sat there watching her son try to break down the meaning of whatever it was that caused him such ailment and grief. ‘Shall I send a raven?’

‘If you sent him a raven every time I had a nightmare mother, he’d never be home. It’s alright.’ He lied. Truth be told, this dream occurred every night. From the succession of the throne to the demise of his mother.

‘Well he is your father, and you need him.’

Rolling his eyes, the large male pulled himself up from his cot, ‘I haven’t needed him for all of these years,’ he snatched the white cotton blouse off of the wooden chair, ‘I don’t need him now.’

The woman sighed at her stubborn son, ‘Tytus. Must you be so mulish? What is the harm in reaching out?’

Tytus rolled his eyes. He hated having these conversations with her about Viserys. Last time he was too busy raising his own family to be bothered with a bastard son. Tugging on his shirt he turned to look at her. ‘Since when you cared so much about what happened between Viserys and I?’

The woman’s lips parted for a second before she let out a sigh. She peeled her eyes away from his haunting gaze. She knew something that he didn’t. ‘Just— it’s important you get to know him as a man, son.’

He sighed heavily and shook his head, ‘I’m sorry mother but he’s a little too preoccupied for me.’ He’d become agitated; thinking about the only thing that his father had given him was a name, the rights to speak in his native tongue and a dragon egg.

One would say he’s more connected to his Valyrian heritage. But that meant nothing when all he wanted was his father to be around. He may have been ungrateful, but he resented Viserys.

But there are two sides to every coin.

He started towards the door until Sondra said, ‘Your father is ill.’

Tytus stopped in his tracks.

‘He had been this way for quite some time. They have been trying to slow up the pace of the illness but—‘

‘What is it?’ He said as he turned half way to look at his mother.

‘It is a flesh eating disease… in the recent raven he’d sent, it’s already claimed fingers… and some of the flesh on his back.’

Shutting his eyes and looking away from her, he’d let out a silent breath. His heart had sunken to his gut causing him to grow ill.

That would explain Visery’s health in his nightmare.

‘Did they—‘ he paused as he tried to gather his emotions, ‘Did he say how much time he had left?’

‘No.’ Sondra walked over to her son and placed her hand on his tall shoulder while turning his face towards her with her free hand, ‘This is why you must make amends. He is your father and you are my greatest gift. You must thank him. I already have.’

‘Why must I thank someone for making me? He cursed me, mother. Us! He is the reason we can’t go out and live normal lives.’

‘Tytus—‘

‘I’ll see what I can do… but no promises. The King had always put his son aside… and I shall do the same.’ He pulled away from his mother’s touch and walked out the back door of the cabin.

Tears brimmed his eyes as his chest began to tighten with a familiar ache. Sure he tried to hold himself together but that news hit him like a ton of bricks. He quickly walked over to the stream and collapsed to his knees. His face molded into something… human and painful. A silent sob ripped through his chest, causing his shoulders to rise and fall.

No matter how much he’d pretended to hate his father, he truly did look up to him. He knew that Viserys was a good man, and part of him hated that of him. He’d just wished he had to experience him more and have more time with him. It wasn’t fair. While all his younger siblings got to know who he was as a man, a father, a mentor and a King; he barely knew him beyond his name.

Hell, when he and Uncle Daemon would sneak away from Kings Landing to see him as a child, they’d never spent more than an hour together.

Jealousy wasn’t enough for the Prince.

‘Tytus?!’

Startled, Tytus dipped his head into the flowing water to hide his face.

‘Tytus?’ A woman called out in confusion, placing her hand over her chest as her free arm held a wicker basket.

He pulled his head out of the water and pushed his wet hair out of his face. Letting out a huff, he rubbed the water out of his eyes and looked back over his shoulder.

‘Oh, Alyssa!’ He scrambled up to his feet and turned around to face her as he pushed his wet hair out of his face. ‘Hi. I—I wasn't expecting to see you at this hour. May I help you?’

Tytus allowed his bright yet mournful eyes to take in the woman before him. Her skin was bathing within the warmth of the sun itself; brown like sepia. She had a pretty, round face with chestnut eyes and full lips. And a smile, that could light up an entire room.

Her thick dark hair was done in two fine twists with a thin gold ribbon fed into the style. They met at the back of her head in an intricate and complicated pattern of a knot.

She had a set large voluptuous breasts that complimented her low cut dress wonderfully. She had a tummy, wide hips and he would assume thick pillowy thighs to match beneath the skirt of her dress.

To call this woman comely, was quite the understatement.

‘I just bought this for you. Hoping that you have not forgotten our proposal.’ She took the handle into her fist and held it out towards him.

‘And that would be?’ He trailed off as he raised a brow.

Annoyingly dropping her arm, Alyssa let out a sigh with a gentle eye roll, ‘Well it’s not exactly ours… you and my father.’

‘So why didn’t your father come have a word with me?’

‘He is busy. He runs an Inn and an Alehouse. Or does your age fail you?’

Tytus scuffed as his brows furrowed in dismay, ‘How old do you think I am?’

‘I don’t know. Something about you says ancient but… I don’t truly know.’

‘Is it my hair.’

‘Mayhaps…’ the woman paused as she rested her hand on her hip, allowing her pretty eyes to roam over this lovely specimen of a man. ‘So, will you do it?’

This woman was impossible. Well, he’d known her for a little while. And she wasn’t always this impatient. Other days she was a sweet woman that made him laugh and made him feel comfortable when he’d go fill up on some ale.

But she was different outside of that Inn.

Letting out a heavy sigh, his golden eyes ripped from her gaze to the basket she held in her hand. ‘What’s in the basket?’

‘Some treats for you and your mother. You know my father is quite fond of her? He would hate to hear that you’d turn down gifts because of your wits.’

He’d rolled his eyes and reached his hand out for her to place his gift there.

The woman beamed with a smile that could cut through thick thunder clouds. It was hard for him to keep up with his immovable character when she shared that side with him. Instead of allowing the annoyance to settle in his features further, he’d returned a small yet kind smile.

‘Thank you, Tytus. You have been quite helpful since you and Miss. Sondra have been around. If you both shall need anything—‘

‘We— don’t need anything, Alyssa.’ He reassured, ‘Thank you.’ He blinked his golden eyes from the basket to her gaze.

The two remained quiet; staring into one another’s eyes as if they’d searched for something beyond.

Alyssa had inhaled deeply as she blinked her gaze away from his. ‘Well, I shall get going, Tytus. Inn won’t tend to itself unfortunately.’ She bowed her head respectfully, ‘Good day.’ She added before spinning off smoothly and walking in the direction from whomst she came.

It had seemed as if Tytus had been involuntarily choking on words because he just couldn’t seem to get them out so he just said, ‘Good Day, Miss.’

‘Alyssa.’

Taking note that once she made it past the cabin, she went left. It wasn’t in the direction of her father’s inn but after she’d left his property, she was no longer his responsibility. Or so he thought.

***

Walking back into the cabin, he took note of his mother sitting before the fireplace staring at his priceless gift.

A dragon egg.

Sondra looked over at Tytus for a second before her eyes dropped to the goody basket he held in his hand. ‘I thought I saw it move. I know he said it may never hatch but, you could never be too sure about these things. They’re creatures like you and I. Stubborn when they want to be.’ The woman laughed heartily as she walked over to her son.

‘I ever tell you about when I was pregnant with you?’

A small smile returned, ‘Yes mama. More times than man could count.’

‘You and—‘ she paused for a second as if she was catching herself from giving away something.

Tytus caught that, causing his brows to pull together as he listened further.

‘You gave me so much pain, I wanted the Gods to put me out of my misery. 10 long months, I felt every bit of it.’ She smiled softly, trying to push her secrets to the side once more. ‘Now look at you,’ she placed her hand on his jaw, ‘My son.’ Her thumb gently caressed his cheek before she brought her attention to the basket once again.

‘Alyssa brought this here for us.’ Tytus said as he placed it in her arms. ‘I have to fulfill my end of the trade now.’

‘Alyssa… What a sweet girl.’ Sondra smiled as she carried it off to the wooden dining table. ‘How is she and her father?’

‘I don’t know?’ He shrugged, ‘She seemed in fair spirits. Her father though,’ he smirked as he leaned against the frame of the door ‘Seems to have a thing for little ladies who tend to be mysterious.’

‘Who? Me?’ The woman laughed gleefully as she tore the cloth from atop of the basket. Revealed onto them both was a full bottle of mead, fresh warm bread, cheese and a jar of raw honey. ‘Ou! What a lovely spread!’

‘Good,’ Tytus sighed and pushed himself off of the frame, ‘You can enjoy it without me. I’ve got venison to catch.’

‘Be careful son.’

‘I shall.’ He called out before walking out the back door once again and went into the makeshift butcher house that he’d built. It was more than just a place to cut and skin meat. It was where he beat his steel and metal into place. Being on the run for 30 odd years, he and his mother had to learn to do things on their own.

That went from properly skinning meat to make pelts, to creating new weaponry that could cut down anyone that disrupted their journey.

But it was also a place of solace. Where he found peace and quiet.

Tytus made due to change out of his house wear quickly and stepped into something more comfortable. There was no telling how long his trip would be. But with his impressive tracking skills and his ability to make a decision promptly, he should be back in no time.

He dressed in thick, patterned leather. Then, he tugged on his boots and sharpened his dagger. Finally, he packed up his quiver nice and full, and tightened the string.

Once finished, he gathered all of his possessions and walked outside to the stables. It was a little bit busier now. The farmers next door had begun to work on their duties and the streets had come to life as the sun ascended further into the sky.

As he embarked on his short journey, the villagers greeted him with smiles and waves. Some even spoke his name: ‘Tytus! Good Morning to ya!’ ‘Tytus.’ ‘Be safe out there, Tytus!’

Children skipped, ran and laughed as they played without a care in the world. A soft smile had formed in his lips but then, he’d remembered that he wasn’t so lucky to experience such a mundane life as this when he was a child. At times, he envied them. These kids who laughed with their whole bodies and asked questions out of curiosity while having the chance to be children…

Not him though. He didn’t have time to wonder what the world was like or make friends.

‘Gardenia… good morning girl.’ He said softly as he rested his large hand against her neck. ‘Miss me?’

The beautiful Friesian mare nickered with joy as the sound of his voice. She’d even shoved at his torso in a gentle and affirming manner.

‘I know. I’ve missed you too. But, we’re going to be spending some time together today.’ He’d placed his dagger in his sheath and pulled on his bow and quiver over his shoulder.

‘We’ve gotten wrapped up in something… a promise that must be fulfilled.’ He spoke to Gardenia as if she was human. Well, he always knew his secrets would be safe with her.

***

Riding with Gardenia always did seem to take his mind off of more dismaying things. Such as his nightmares and his mother’s pompous attitude toward him seeing his father.

Tytus was aimlessly following an unmarked path in the woods. Sure, he’d made the deal to go hunting but right now his mind wasn’t in it. He’d just found out the man who he’d called father was dying from this rare disease. And he had no idea if he’d ever see him again.

His eyes burned with a vengeance as tears brimmed them again. His jaw locked into place as he clenched it hard while his fists held on to his reins tightly.

Finally, the sound of an elk calling brought him out of sunken depths of despair in his mind. Pulling at Gardenia’s reins, she knickered before shaking her head and stopping in her tracks.

‘Whoooa, girl. Eaaaassy.’ He’d reached forth and gave her neck a gentle pat before carefully unmounting. He quietly walked her over to a tree where he tied her up, nice and tightly.

Leaning into her neck, Tytus whispered, ‘I know you hate to lull these units back home. But, it feeds us. Behave.’ He uttered before pulling away and readying his bow. As soon as he turned his back to walk away, Gardenia quickly nudged her snout into his back; neighing and stomping as he stumbled forward.

Catching his footing, Tytus’ nose flared as he took a deep breath and looked behind him with a minacious scowl written on his face. The horse stared at him with an unimpressed glare as her ears twitched and flickered.

Look at him. What kind of man fights with a horse?

Rolling his bright golden eyes, he mumbled, ‘you women are all the same.’

When the elk called once more, Tytus took note that it was closer and that this was no average piece of meat. The way it sounded let Tytus know that it was much more mature than he anticipated from the first call.

Squatting down into the damp dirt, he took note of the human footprints here. They were small and the shape held form, a telltale sign that these were recent.

It wasn’t odd to see footprints in the wood, but for some reason— something felt off about this particular set of prints. But he wasn’t here for that, he lifted his bow and began on his way.

Every step Tytus made was crucial and timed as any step out of place, could possibly scare away nearby food. Or perhaps, invite a hungry bear or a pack of direwolves. Whichever the three, none were wanted. So he stepped slowly, and moved with as much patience as a mother with her rotten child.

They didn’t call him the best hunter in the village for nothing.

Eventually, after so many calculated steps and draws, he’d finally come across the source of the calls. Standing beneath a tree that looked to have weathered many centuries, it grazed on the lush green grass.

Tytus thought this was the perfect opportunity to claim his prize. So he stepped over broken branch and tread slowly, cautiously. He stood up straight and drew his string; aiming the arrow at its ribcage. But something… was off.

His mind kept thinking about those tracks from earlier. Who were they? Why were they here? Were they safe?

With Tytus’ questions throwing off his concentration, he mistakenly released the grip of the arrow, causing it to rip through the air, and spear the tree, just a second above the creature.

Tytus’ heart sank.

But to his surprise, the beast didn’t flee. In fact, its head rose and looked at his hunter instead. It began to emerge from the shadows of the tree, stepping into the sun that caused its coat to glow like snow. Its antlers appeared to shine like solid gold in the sun’s rays.

And unusually large in size.

Under the temptation of wanting to reach behind him and grab another arrow, Tytus couldn’t believe what he was seeing! He was completely frozen.

The Legendary White Hart.

He’d heard stories about this creature when he was just a little boy. But he’d never been the type to believe in fairy tales. As if dragons didn’t exist and he wouldn’t become a formidable dragon rider in the future.

The stag stopped only heartbeats away from Tytus, staring down the mere human. And the human stared up at it, slowly dropping his weapon to take in this godly creature once more.

Then, the creature let out a huff from its nose and turned away, trekking into a path. Almost instantly disappearing within the trees.

Tytus stood there as he felt as if air had been ripped from his lungs. If he’d remembered those tales well, he’d known what this meant. That the Gods had given him their blessing for him to be King… right?

Wrong. Because that’s not what he wanted. Tytus had no generalized idea of what it took to be a King. How responsible would he have to be? All the choices he’d have to make on behalf of others instead of being selfish. And he loved being selfish! Why would he give that up?! For a crown and gold?

Depending on who you ask… it didn’t sound bad.

But that wasn’t him.

At the moment, Tytus was no longer in a hunting mood. He was mentally exhausted after today. All the news and all the signs weighed on him like dumbbells. As he made his way back to Gardenia, he contemplated telling his mother about his finding. But knowing her, her relentless determination of convincing him to see his father, would only get worse.

He’d decided to keep it a secret for now.

Once he’d made it back to Gardenia, he’d noticed that the tracks had been replaced with 3 fresh ones. The wet dirt had been deepened by the weight of heavy boots.

But how odd was it that they didn’t steal his horse? Clearly these individuals were after something more important.

That gut feeling only deepened and now he felt the need to get to the bottom of this.

‘Gardenia… I’m afraid I must leave you again…’

The sassy horse neighed loudly and bobbed her head.

‘I know… something is not right here. And if someone is in danger… I must help.’ Tytus walked over to Gardenia and reached into his satchel where he pulled out a shiny red apple. ‘You do understand,’ He hushed against her neck.

‘Don’t you?’ He continued as he held out the apple in front of her.

The horse knickered quietly before she grabbed the fruit with her teeth, causing Tytus to chuckle softly. ‘I knew you would. I will be back soon.’

***

Tytus didn’t really care too much to be quiet on this journey. He put all of his attention in studying these tracks and what they could possibly lead to. And it could be a number of things.

At this point in the day, the sun had finally disappeared behind the mountains, alerting him that he’d spent way too much time out here and still didn’t catch anything.

But food didn’t matter when it came to protecting the innocent. So he pushed onward until he heard the loud drunken, cackling of men.

Crouching behind a bush, he allowed his eyes to try to study the area from afar. A fire had already been built and well lit. One of the men wore nothing but filthy undergarments. The other two, were fully dressed in their armored uniforms. Tytus recognized those cloaks and breastplates anywhere. Black and Red.

They served the King, under Lord Commander Criston Cole, who’d just taken after the Late Ser Harrold Westerling. A renowned white cloak, who proved to be more than a “pretty” face.

Tytus hated those self righteous pricks.

But these guys… were more dangerous than an average soldier. In fact, they were no longer that. Deserters, which made them all the more dangerous. They had no rules, as long as they weren’t caught… they’d do anything to survive.

The sudden whining of a woman had caught his attention almost instantly, causing his gaze to flicker from the gold three-headed, fire breathing dragon to the woman who was helplessly bound in a pillory. She struggled and wept as she begged the three men to free her.

‘Pl-please! I-I won’t tell a soul… I-I swear! Just please let me go!’

Her voice… that… voice.

‘Alyssa?’ He whispered softly.

Though, he couldn’t confirm it as her backside was facing him. He often tried to be respectful and not look at her that way. He felt he owed that to her father.

‘Oh you won’t be telling anybody… sweetheart.’ The naked man expressed as he took the ale from his comrade.

Tytus growled quietly as he grabbed the handle of his sword. But before he could make another move, he stopped himself. These are three trained soldiers. He had to do this right before it got them both killed.

He watched as that slimy bastard made his way over to her and stood in front of her where he leaned in and whispered something in her ear. Then, he leaned in as if to kiss her.

Tytus watched impatiently before a loud wail erupted in the air.

Snatching his face away, the male’s face was gushing with blood as she spit out what seemed to be flesh, ‘You won’t kiss anyone else you disgusting—‘

She’d snatched his bottom lip off of his face, completely exposing tendons and everything that made a set of lips work.

Tytus hissed at the gruesome sight. He’d seen a lot of things, but this? That was sickening.

One of the male’s backhanded her with his armored knuckles, instantly knocking her out.

This ticked Tytus off, he was over trying to be patient. These men brought her harm and they weren’t going to make it out of here.

As the male’s comrades tried to help him aid the wound and stop the bleeding, Tytus stepped around the bush, ‘Do you all—‘ startling the three men, causing the two men to pull out their swords.

‘Usually harm women this way?’

‘What’s it to you? This does not concern you!’

‘what did you all intend on doing to her?’ Tytus tried to remain as calm as possible.

The two dressed men stood there quietly as their companion tried to “glue” his lip back into place. What an idiot.

‘Do you all know… the consequences of deserting?’

‘We’re not deserters!’

Tytus smirked, ‘Oh yeah?’

‘We—we just got lost! Sh-she was suppose to help us find our nearest camp and—‘

‘You didn’t find it so you’re gonna rape and kill her instead?’

The three men looked at one another before looking back at Tytus.

‘You know what? Yeah. And then maybe we’ll rape and kill you too.’ The three men laughed.

And Tytus found absolutely nothing funny about that.

His stoic demeanor had instantly shifted into something colder and harsher. ‘Not if I can help it.’ Gripping the handle of his sword, he unsheathed his blade and readied himself.

‘Ha! You’re going to fight us? It's 3 of us and just 1 of you.’

Tytus' head fell to the side gently as a small smirk curled up on his lip. ‘You know, you’re right about that.’ Quickly reaching behind him, he grabbed the handle of his dagger and aimlessly launched it in their direction. To his luck, it hit the injured one right in the throat.

The other men watched as their comrade fell to the ground and choked on his own blood. Then, they turned their attention to Tytus who readied himself in stance. They both charged towards him in hopes of defeating this individual. But that hope was short lived when Tytus swung his sword across one’s neck, chopping his head clean off. And slicing the other from across his stomach, instantly bringing him to his knees.

Unfortunately for him, he lived a little bit longer to feel the torturous pain of his insides falling upon the ground before him. Wailing as he even made the attempt to grab at his intestines and try to shove it back into the wound but failed miserably when he’d succumb to his wound.

Splattered blood dripped across Tytus’ face and some even got in his hair. He’d sighed heavily and walked over to the one with the missing lip. He was still choking to death. Tytus’ brows tugged into one as he noticed that his dagger was probably keeping him alive?

‘Well, isn’t this interesting?’

He squatted down before him and flicked the handle, causing the man to gargle in pain. ‘You’re really fighting it aren’t you?’

He tried to speak, chomping his jaws together but it had appeared that the blade severed his vocal chords too.

So instead of watching him struggle, Tytus reached over, ‘Alright, that’ll do.’ And he shoved the blade deeper, finally ending the individual’s torment.

‘To be honest that’s more than what you deserve. Fucking prick.’ He hissed as he snatched his blade out of his throat and wiped the blade upon his pants before sheathing it home.

Tytus took in a moment to take in this mess. 3 men massacred by his blade, and a woman who had been knocked unconscious by the brute force of one of them. In that moment, he worried that perhaps someone would find the bodies here.

It wouldn’t be a good look if the townsfolk saw these slain soldiers. But, he did what he must. And the sun was descending further behind the mountains; illuminating a orange glow in the sky. They had to get back home before dark. Or at least be on their way.

Huffing heavily through his nose, the tall brute walked over to the body that lie hunched over it’s on mess now. Tytus kicked the corpse over, and studied it for a moment. ‘What to do with you…three pigs..’

His golden eyes roamed over the body; a pile of its own intestines lie next to him.

Then, he looked ahead at the raging fire that they’d once created just a few moments before their intruder’s arrival.

‘Well.. into the flames you go.’

One by one, Tytus drug the 3 corpses into the fire and watched them burn; watching as the metal fused with their flesh as if it were becoming apart of them instead. In exposed skin, he watched the flames cauterize and bubble them up until it turned crispy and charred.

He wrinkled his nose at the unfathomable scent. It was a smell, one could never truly get use to.

Finally turning his attention to the damsel in distress, he let out a gentle sigh. ‘As for you…’ he said as he walked over to meet her.

He carefully grabbed her chin and lifted her face. Semi-dried blood stained her lips and chin from her attack on her abuser. Then, he noticed a dark purple bruise that had been instantly cast upon her tawny flesh where that bastard split her cheekbone.

‘Mmm. Your father will have your head for this.’ Tytus murmured before carefully releasing her head. He began to take his blade and slice at the thick rope that kept her bound.

After freeing her from the pillory, ‘Silly woman.’ He muttered as threw her over his shoulder and began his journey back to Gardenia. ‘You did well.’

Random Tags: @megamindsecretlair @ladylaviniya @virgosapphire79 @blackterrae @iwudbutnah @augustsprincess @holylulusworld @xsapphirescrollsx @viking-raider @peternoonewantsthat @littlemelaninfics @goldieccentric @multiversxwhore @targaryenvampireslayer @raccoon-eyed-rebel

#henry cavill #the witcher #geralt of rivia #august walker #henry cavill fanfic #hcavilledit #Henry Cavill x black!plus size female #Henry Cavill x black!female #Geralt x black!female #Geralt x black!plus size female #Geralt x black!female oc #Henry Cavill x black!female oc #Geralt #HOTD #house of the dragon #House of the dragon imagine #henry cavill imagine #Geralt of Rivia imagine

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welikeimagines-andfandoms · 5 months ago

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Geralt with nr 1 💕

Bigmouth Strikes Again- Geralt x Reader

Summary: Geralt sometimes messes up and says the wrong thing

Both men watch as you depart from the tavern to go to your room. Geralt has a confused look on his face, while Jaskier can’t help but puff out a laugh at his clueless friend.

“You don’t think the two are related do you?” Jaskier asks his friend in disbelief.

“What are you talking about?” He questions the bard with an annoyed ‘get to the point’ look on his face.

“You come back to the table boasting about the barmaid getting us free drinks and that you’ve ‘still got it’ and then your love leaves the table quite upset. Come on, you big idiot, work it out and then make it right.”

Once Jaskier had spelt it out him, Geralt realised how much of an ass he’d been. Huffing out a big sigh, Geralt goes to find you and makes things right.

“Don’t drink our ale,” Geralt makes sure to warn the bard as he passes him.

Reaching the door of your shared room, Geralt let’s out a small sigh, before swallowing his pride and lightly knocking on the door. He doesn’t wait for your answer, as he knows what you’ll say, before he gently walks in.

“Darling?” He tries soothingly.

“Go away,” you bluntly retort.

“I will if that’s what you need but just listen first, please.”

“Fine.”

Letting out a small sigh, he’s glad you’ll at least hear him out.

“I’m sorry that I boasted about getting us those free drinks. I’m not great at this whole relationship thing and the last thing I’d want to do is hurt you. I promise you I didn’t flirt with her, and I only have eyes for you.”

There is a moment of silence before you slowly roll over in the bed to stare at him.

“You are a big dumbass you know that?” You quietly joke, as a tiny smile appears on your lips.

“Yes, I know that,” he chuckles, “but I am your dumbass, and I love you.”

“I love you too, dummy.”

#Geralt #Geralt x reader #Geralt imagine #the Witcher #the Witcher imagine #Geralt of rivia #Geralt of rivia imagine #Geralt of rivia x reader

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livesinfantasyland · 1 year ago

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Cozy day with Geralt of Rivia

More Mood Boards

#henry cavill #the witcher x reader #geralt of rivia #geralt of rivia imagine #geralt of rivia x reader #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill x you #moodboard #domestic life with geralt of rivia

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sweetdreamcreater · 3 months ago

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Secrets of the Forest

Pairing: Geralt of Rivia x Human Female (OFC)

Warning /tags: smut (18+), NSFW, boob fondling, unprotected sex (practice safe sex, please), creampie, Oral sex, dirty talk, p in v, fingering.

About: Geralt feels horny during their ride through a forest with Andrea (OFC)

Wordcount: Around 3k

Part 1 and 2

Part 3

The forest was alive with the whispers of leaves and the occasional rustle of unseen creatures. Andrea lay beneath the canopy of a towering oak, her body pressed against the soft moss that carpeted the forest floor. Her breath came in shallow, nervous bursts as she glanced at the man beside her—Geralt of Rivia, the White Wolf himself. His golden eyes glinted in the dappled sunlight filtering through the branches, piercing yet oddly tender as they lingered on her.

She had always been drawn to him, his quiet intensity, the way he carried himself like a storm waiting to break. But this... this was different. The air between them crackled with something unspoken, something restless and hungry.

Andrea’s heart pounded as Geralt shifted closer, his movements deliberate, almost predatory. She could feel the heat radiating from his body, and it made her skin prickle with anticipation. He reached out, his calloused fingers brushing against the curve of her neck, trailing down to the edge of her collarbone. Her breath hitched when he paused, his gaze locking onto hers.

“You’re trembling,” he murmured, his voice low and rough, like gravel underfoot. “Do you want me to stop?”

She shook her head, her lips parting but no words came out. How could she explain the ache that had been gnawing at her since she first laid eyes on him? It wasn’t just physical—it was deeper, more primal. A need to be consumed, to lose herself in him entirely.

Geralt didn’t wait for her to find her voice. His hand captured her breast again. Andrea gasped, her back arching instinctively as his warm palm cupped her. His touch was firm but not hurried as if he were savouring the moment, memorizing the way she responded to him.

Then his lips found her skin, hot and insistent. Andrea’s breath caught in her throat as he began to tease her nipple with his tongue, circling it slowly before closing his mouth over it. The sensation was electric, sending jolts of pleasure spiralling through her body. She clutched at his shoulders, her nails digging into the leather of his armour as he sucked gently, then with increasing pressure.

“Oh gods—” she moaned, her voice trembling, barely audible above the rustling of the trees. But Geralt heard her. He always did. His free hand slid up to cradle the back of her head, holding her steady as he intensified his efforts. His teeth grazed her sensitive flesh, and Andrea cried out, the sound echoing through the forest like a song.

Her chest rose and fell rapidly, her body quivering under his relentless attention. Tears welled in her eyes, spilling over as the pleasure grew unbearable and overwhelming. She couldn’t remember ever feeling so exposed, so utterly vulnerable. And yet, she never wanted it to end.

“Geralt…” she whimpered, her voice breaking. “Please… don’t stop.”

He didn’t. Instead, he shifted lower, his hands slipping beneath her dress to part her legs. Andrea’s pulse raced as he knelt between her thighs, his golden eyes dark with hunger. He leaned in, his breath warm against her inner thigh, and she shuddered, her entire body tensing in anticipation.

When his tongue finally touched her, it was like being struck by lightning. Andrea gasped, her hips jerking involuntarily as he began to explore her most intimate places. His movements were slow and deliberate, each stroke drawing another broken cry from her lips. He teased her relentlessly, alternating between long, languid licks and quick, flickering strokes that left her trembling.

The pleasure built steadily, each wave stronger than the last until Andrea felt like she was drowning in it. Her hands fisted in the moss beneath her, her cries growing louder, more desperate. She opened her mouth to beg him for release, but all that came out was a strangled sob, her body arching off the ground as he pushed her closer to the edge.

And then, without warning, he stopped. Andrea blinked up at him, dazed and disoriented, her entire body thrumming with unfulfilled desire. Geralt’s lips curved into a faint smirk as he met her gaze, his expression equal parts smug and knowing.

“Not yet,” he said, his voice thick with promise. “I’m not done with you.”

Andrea’s chest rose and fell in uneven waves, her body still trembling from the delicious torment Geralt had just put her through. The air around them felt heavier now, charged with an electric tension that made her skin prickle. She looked up at him, her eyes pleading, her lips parted as if to speak, but no words came out. Only a soft, desperate whimper escaped her throat.

Geralt knelt over her, his golden eyes gleaming with hunger as he studied her. His hand reached out, brushing a strand of damp hair from her forehead. His touch was tender, almost reverent, but there was something predatory in the way his gaze lingered on her exposed body.

“You’re so beautiful like this,” he murmured, his voice low and gravelly, sending shivers down her spine. “All spread out for me, completely helpless.”

Andrea swallowed hard, her heart pounding in her chest. She wanted to respond, to tease him back, but all she could manage was a shaky breath. Her mind was foggy, her thoughts consumed by the ache between her thighs, the need that only he could satisfy.

Geralt leaned down, his lips grazing her ear. “Tell me what you want, Andrea,” he whispered, his breath hot against her skin. “Beg me for it.”

She shuddered, her hands gripping the moss beneath her tighter. Gods, how could he ask her to speak when every inch of her was burning for him? But he waited, patient and relentless, his mouth hovering just above hers, refusing to give her what she craved until she said the words.

“Please,” she finally gasped, her voice barely more than a whisper. “Please, Geralt… don’t stop. I need you.”

His smirk returned, darker now, more dangerous. “Good girl,” he purred, trailing his fingers down her neck, over her collarbone, and lower still. Andrea arched into his touch, her breathing quickening as he cupped her breast, his thumb brushing lightly over her nipple. She bit her lip to stifle a moan, but it was no use—the sound escaped anyway, echoing faintly through the forest.

Geralt moved lower, his hands sliding down her sides, mapping every curve of her body as if committing her to memory. When he reached her hips, he paused, his thumbs digging into the soft flesh, spreading her legs wider. Andrea whimpered, her cheeks flushing with heat as she realized what he was about to do.

He leaned in, his face hovering just above her core, and inhaled deeply, savouring her scent. “So wet already,” he growled, his voice dripping with approval. “You want me that badly?”

Andrea nodded frantically, her hands clawing at the ground beneath her. She couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe. All she knew was the ache, the unbearable need coiling tighter and tighter inside her.

Geralt didn’t make her wait any longer. His tongue dragged slowly up her slit, teasing her entrance before circling her clit. Andrea let out a strangled cry, her hips bucking instinctively, but Geralt held her firmly in place, his strong hands pinning her down. He licked her again, slower this time, drawing out every sensation until she thought she might lose her mind.

“Oh gods,” she sobbed, her voice breaking as pleasure surged through her. “Geralt, please… more…”

He responded by pressing his mouth harder against her, sucking gently on her most sensitive spot while his tongue flicked rapidly over it. Andrea cried out, her entire body shaking as the pressure built inside her. It was too much and not enough all at once, the pleasure nearly unbearable but still just shy of tipping her over the edge.

Geralt pulled back slightly, his breath warm against her wetness. “Not yet,” he murmured, his tone teasing. “I want to hear you beg some more.”

Andrea’s nails dug into the moss as she glared at him through half-lidded eyes. “You’re cruel,” she panted, her voice trembling with both frustration and desire.

He chuckled darkly, his fingers tracing lazy circles around her clit. “And you love it.”

Before she could retort, he dipped his head again, his tongue plunging into her without warning. Andrea screamed, her back arching off the ground as he devoured her, his movements growing more urgent, more demanding. The sensations were overwhelming, each stroke of his tongue sending jolts of electricity through her body. She clutched at his hair, pulling him closer, needing him deeper, harder, more.

“Yes… yes…” she chanted, her voice rising with every passing second. “Don’t stop… don’t stop!”

Geralt responded by slipping two fingers inside her, curling them expertly against her inner walls as his tongue continued its relentless assault. Andrea’s vision blurred, her cries growing louder, more incoherent. She was close, so close, teetering on the brink of oblivion.

Then, just as she felt herself about to fall, Geralt withdrew, leaving her gasping and trembling on the edge. She stared up at him, her eyes wide with shock and desperation.

“Why?” she whimpered, her voice cracking. “Why did you stop?”

Geralt wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, his expression one of pure satisfaction. “Because I don’t want you coming just yet,” he said, his voice rough with arousal. “Not until I’m inside you.”

Andrea’s breath hitched as he shifted positions, kneeling between her legs. She watched, transfixed, as he freed himself from his trousers, his cock springing free, thick and glistening in the dim light filtering through the trees. Her mouth went dry at the sight, her core throbbing with anticipation.

Geralt gripped himself, stroking slowly as he positioned the tip at her entrance. He looked down at her, his golden eyes blazing with intensity. “This is what you want, isn’t it?” he asked, his voice a low growl.

Andrea nodded, unable to form coherent words. Her entire body trembled with need, her hips lifting slightly, silently begging him to take her.

Geralt obliged, pushing into her inch by torturous inch. Andrea threw her head back, a broken sob escaping her lips as she felt him stretch her, fill her completely. He paused once he was fully seated inside her, his hands gripping her hips as he gave her a moment to adjust.

“Fuck, you feel incredible,” he groaned, his voice strained with restraint. “So tight… so perfect.”

Andrea’s nails scraped against his arms as she clung to him, her body quivering around him. “Move,” she begged, her voice ragged. “Please, Geralt… move.”

He obeyed, pulling out slowly before thrusting back in with equal care. Andrea moaned, her legs wrapping around his waist, pulling him deeper. Geralt set a steady rhythm, each thrust deliberate, calculated to drive her wild. He kept his pace slow at first, savouring every gasp, every whimper that spilt from her lips.

But soon, even his control began to slip. His thrusts grew faster, harder, the slick sounds of their bodies joining and filling the air. Andrea’s cries grew louder, more frantic, her hands clawing at his back as she neared the edge once more.

“Look at me,” Geralt commanded, his voice hoarse with effort. Andrea forced her eyes open, meeting his intense gaze. He slowed his pace slightly, driving into her with deep, measured strokes that had her seeing stars. “Say my name,” he urged, his tone brooking no argument.

“Geralt!” she screamed, her voice raw with desperation. “Geralt, please… I’m so close! Don’t stop… don’t stop!”

He growled, his hips snapping against hers with renewed vigour. “That’s it, Andrea,” he rasped, his breath coming in short, ragged bursts. “Come for me. Let me feel you.”

The command was all it took. Andrea shattered, her climax crashing over her in wave after blinding wave. Her body convulsed around him, her screams echoing through the forest as pleasure unlike anything she’d ever known consumed her.

Geralt followed soon after, his own release triggered by the way she clenched around him. With a guttural groan, he buried himself deep inside her, spilling his seed as her name tore from his lips.

They stayed like that for a moment, locked together as their breathing slowly steadied. Then Geralt pulled out, collapsing beside her on the mossy ground. Andrea turned her head to look at him, a small, satisfied smile playing on her lips.

“Told you I wasn’t done with you,” he said, his voice tinged with amusement.

Andrea laughed softly, her body still humming with the aftershocks of her orgasm. “You’re insufferable,” she replied, though there was no real venom in her tone.

Andrea’s body still hummed with the echoes of pleasure, her skin warm and tingling under the cool shade of the forest canopy. Geralt lay beside her, his chest rising and falling steadily, but there was something in the way his golden eyes glinted—something predatory, untamed. She knew that look. It sent a sharp shiver down her spine, anticipation coiling low in her belly.

“You’re looking at me like you want more,” she murmured, her voice soft but laced with challenge. Her lips curved into a sly smile as she propped herself up on one elbow, her hair spilling over her shoulder like liquid fire.

Geralt’s gaze didn’t waver. “Do I?” His tone was casual, almost teasing, but the heat in his eyes betrayed him. He reached out, his fingers lightly tracing the curve of her hip, sending sparks skittering across her skin. “Maybe I do.”

Andrea’s breath hitched at his touch, and she felt the familiar ache between her thighs begin to build again. She tilted her head, her eyes narrowing playfully. “Prove it.”

His smirk was slow, deliberate. Without a word, he shifted, his movements fluid and precise, until he was seated against the gnarled trunk of the tree. His hands gripped her hips, pulling her toward him with a firmness that left no room for resistance. Andrea let out a startled laugh as she found herself straddling him, her thighs bracketing his muscular frame.

His hands slid up her sides, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake, before settling on her waist. “Your turn to take control,” he said simply, his voice rough with barely contained desire.

Andrea hesitated for a moment, her heart pounding as she looked down at him. His expression was calm, almost expectant, but the way his fingers dug into her skin told a different story. He wanted this as much as she did—maybe more. The thought sent a thrill through her, and she straightened, rising slightly on her knees to position herself above him.

Geralt’s breath caught as she guided him inside her, sinking down slowly, inch by agonizing inch. Andrea bit her lip, her head falling back as she felt him fill her completely, stretching her in the most delicious way. A low groan escaped her, mingling with the rustle of leaves overhead.

“Fuck,” Geralt muttered, his hands tightening on her hips. His jaw clenched as he fought to keep himself still, letting her set the pace. “You feel…”

She didn’t let him finish. With a sharp intake of breath, she began to move, rocking her hips in a slow, sinuous rhythm. Geralt’s grip on her tightened, his fingers digging into her flesh as he helped guide her movements. Andrea’s eyes fluttered closed, her focus narrowing to the sensation of him moving within her, the way every thrust sent shockwaves of pleasure coursing through her body.

The forest seemed to fade away around them, the world reduced to the sound of their ragged breathing and the slick, rhythmic sounds of their bodies moving together. Andrea’s pace quickened, her thighs burning with the effort, but she didn’t care. All that mattered was the way Geralt felt beneath her, the way his muscles tensed and quivered with every motion.

“Look at me,” Geralt growled, his voice thick with need. Andrea’s eyes snapped open, meeting his intense gaze. There was something raw, almost primal, in the way he watched her—like he was memorizing every detail, every gasp and moan she made.

She leaned forward slightly, bracing her hands on his shoulders for balance. The change in angle caused Geralt to groan, his hips bucking upward involuntarily. Andrea gasped, her nails digging into his skin as the new position sent a fresh wave of pleasure crashing through her.

“Gods, you’re—” she started, but her words dissolved into a strangled moan as Geralt thrust up into her again, harder this time. Her rhythm faltered, her movements becoming erratic as pleasure overwhelmed her senses.

Geralt didn’t let up. His hands moved to her ass, gripping her firmly as he took over, driving into her with relentless intensity. Andrea’s cries grew louder, echoing through the trees as she clung to him, her body trembling on the edge of release.

“Come on,” Geralt urged, his voice husky and demanding. “Let go.”

As if on command, Andrea’s climax hit her like a thunderclap, her entire body convulsing as waves of pleasure crashed over her. Her cry echoed through the forest, loud and unrestrained, and Geralt followed her over the edge moments later, his growl of release joining hers in a symphony of raw, unbridled ecstasy.

For a few heartbeats, they stayed like that, locked together as the aftershocks of their shared pleasure rippled through them. Then, slowly, Andrea slumped forward, resting her forehead against Geralt’s as they both struggled to catch their breath.

“Still insufferable,” she whispered, her voice shaky but filled with warmth.

Geralt chuckled, his hands gently stroking her back. “Admit it,” he said, his tone laced with amusement. “You love it.”

________________The End________________

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ro-is-struggling · 1 year ago

Text

The Chase || Geralt of Rivia x Reader

Requested by anon: "reader constantly calling geralt the white wolf or just wolf during sexy time and him breeding his pups in her bcs of it???"

Summary: Geralt always tried to keep the wolf inside him caged in order to control his animalistic impulses, but with you that didn't seem to be required at all.

Warnings: SMUT MINORS DNI! Porn without plot, public sex (technically since they’re in the woods), rough sex, penetrative sex, fear play? (not really, but Geralt does chase the reader through the woods so maybe? adding it just in case!), scent play, size kink, breeding kink, dirty talk, biting (like there’s so much it’s a warning in this fic), fingering, possessiveness, a little fluff at the end, fem!reader

English is not my first language

Word count: 3300

Notes: This is definitely NOT inspired on THAT scene from beauty and the beast that has been going around twitter all week, nope, not at all

Do you want to get notified when I post? JOIN MY TAG LIST HERE!

Geralt was used to being called 'wolf' or 'white wolf'. It was a nickname he'd had for most of his life and was constantly used by Vesemir and the other witchers. He never thought much about it, just like his own name, he had it so internalized that he automatically responded when someone called him by those nicknames.

That changed, however, when you came into his life. There was something in the way you pronounced those words that awakened a primal feeling in him. It was in the way you looked at him, eyes defiant and playful, waiting to spark a reaction from him. It was in the way your lips moved, always ending in a mischievous smile, and in the sound of your voice, sweet and seductive, inducing him to madness, pushing him to his limit.

Everything about you awakened in him an urge to possess you, to mark you as his so that everyone who saw you would know you belonged to him. He had to make an effort to stop his needy hands to caress your skin, and contain the desperation of his lips to kiss your neck and mark it with his teeth. He didn't care if there were people around him, they all ceased to exist when you called him wolf.

It didn't help his situation that you always played dumb, pretending not to understand the power you had over him. But Geralt knew it was all an act. He knew that you were well aware of the effect that the utterance of that nickname had on him. And you used it as a weapon, a way to get a response from him when you wanted to play. And today you were in a very playful mood.

"What is it? Is the wolf scared of losing?" you teased him, trying to persuade him to take the bet. It was a simple race through the woods, just get from point A to point B as fast as possible to win. Only you had no intention of winning. All you were looking for was the thrill of the chase.

Geralt gave you an unamused look, taking a deep breath to calm the revolt that your use of that nickname had awakened in him. But then, he sensed your perfume in the air, mixed with the intoxicating scent of your arousal. His look completely transformed, frown relaxing into a firm, intimidating expression. The game was on.

"Oh you don't want to play that game, bunny." He warned you, giving you one last chance to change your mind. Once the race started, he wasn't sure he would be able to stop. He could already feel his insides vibrating with anticipation, the chained wolf fighting to break free. He had been locked up for too long, his needs ignored and repressed, so when he let go there would be no turning back. He was hungry and you were offering yourself to him without hesitation. How could he refuse?

You approached him, taking the sword he was sharpening out of his hand and bending down so you could look him in the eye. Your movements were slow, sensual, captivating your lover's gaze. Geralt's eyes got lost in your cleavage for a moment, admiring the exposed skin of your neck and the valley of your breasts as he suddenly began to salivate with need. His pupils widened, staring at you with yellow eyes turned almost completely black with desire. He could barely contain himself and that only increased your arousal.

"I'm not afraid of you." you said, and Geralt held back the urge to tell you that you should be. "Are you, wolf?"

He stood up and suddenly his imposing figure towered over yours, forcing you to tilt your head up so you could look at him. He was so much bigger than you, so much more agile, that it was ridiculous to even imagine you could beat him in a race. But, again, that's not what the game was about.

Geralt leaned in towards you, his lips brushing your ear, his warm breath tickling your skin. "When you lose and you're on the ground begging for mercy, I just want you to remember that you asked for this." he whispered, defiantly, sending a shiver down your spine.

He looked at you and you knew it was time to run. He gave you a head start, knowing he could catch you without even trying —not only because he was faster than you, but also because you had no real intention of winning that bet. He watched you run through the trees, admiring the way your hair moved in the wind. Only when you disappeared over the horizon did he start to move. He walked at a slow pace at first, sharpening his hearing to follow the sound of your footsteps. But when he caught the scent of your arousal, he couldn't help but pick up his pace. It was like a drug to him, an intoxicating scent that messed with the hormones of the big, bad wolf he had set free.

Geralt let the scent of your floral perfume mixed with the sweet nectar hidden between your legs guide him towards you, an invisible force drawing him closer and closer to his prey. When he reached you, he found you hiding behind a tree, taking advantage of the moment to catch your breath. He heard you gasp as soon as you sensed his presence, holding your breath to avoid making your position known. Geralt smiled to himself, finding your small efforts to remain hidden adorable.

"You can't hide from me, bunny." He spoke, approaching you slowly. "I can hear the sound of your quickened breathing from miles away... smell the scent of your arousal... you want this, so why don't you come out and get this over with."

Geralt was offering you a truce, a chance for things not to escalate any further than they already had. Any sane person in your place would have taken it, it was the reasonable thing to do after taunting the wolf like that. But you were not just anyone. You wanted to face the consequences of your actions. You wanted to face the white wolf that Geralt tried so hard to keep in line. You wanted him to do whatever he wanted with you, that was the point of the game in the first place.

You came out of hiding with your hands up in a feigned sign of surrender. Geralt walked a few steps towards you, eyeing you with suspicion. You held his gaze, trying to hide your true intentions. But in the end the smile on your lips betrayed you, letting him know that you didn't plan to give up easily before you had a chance to run.

You barely made it a couple of steps before you felt the warmth of his body against yours, his arms wrapped tightly around you to keep you from escaping. You squirmed in his grip, trying to free your arms from his strong hold, but it was pointless. Geralt was much bigger and stronger than you, so you weren't going anywhere if he didn't want you to. He pressed you against him, pinning your back to his chest as his hands intertwined over your stomach, effectively imprisoning you against his body. You felt his nose against your neck, sniffing your scent with animalistic desperation. It made you tremble, eyes rolling to the back of your head as your heart pounded with anticipation. You pressed the curve of your ass against the bulge growing in his pants in response and you felt Geralt’s chest vibrate with a repressed moan.

"I got you." he growled against your skin before sinking his teeth into the sensitive area of your neck. "You're mine, bunny. Mine."

"I'm yours," you moaned, relaxing into his arms, tilting your head more so he could have better access to your neck. You wanted him to mark you. You wanted him to claim you as his own. "Please, take me." you begged. It was an airy whisper, but Geralt heard it with perfect clarity. And your consent was all he needed.

In a matter of seconds, your back was pressed against the grass as Geralt hovered over you. His hands were all over your body, lifting your skirt and unbuttoning the ties of your top to expose your breasts. His lips kissed every inch of exposed skin, but there was nothing romantic or sensual about it. It was rough, desperate, Geralt sucked your skin with the intention of leaving marks, sinking his teeth into your flesh as he growled that you belonged to him. It was too much and yet not enough. The pleasure coursing through your body was almost unbearable, but you needed more, you needed to feel all of him.

"You knew exactly what you were doing... calling me that name, making me chase you around." Geralt inserted a finger inside you without warning, earning a moan from you. You were so aroused, so desperate for his touch, that he had no trouble at all pushing deep into your core, moving his digit with ease and reaching up to brush against that sensitive part inside you that turned you into a moaning mess. "This is what you wanted, didn't you bunny? You wanted your big, bad wolf to chase you around and pin you down right in the middle of the woods, huh?"

"Y-yes, f-fuck." you managed to blurt out between moans and quickened breaths. Geralt inserted a second finger inside you and the air got stuck in your throat as the pleasure overwhelmed you. He increased the pace of his movements, showing you no mercy as his fingers moved in and out of you in desperate, almost aggressive movements. You could feel the knot in your stomach tightening, ready to snap at any moment.

"You awakened the wolf on purpose. This is exactly what you wanted, didn't you?" he growled in your ear, playfully biting your ear lobe. You could only reply with an incoherent moan, closing your eyes to focus on the pleasure coursing through your body. But that wasn't enough for him, Geralt wanted to hear you say it. "Answer me!" he demanded and you were forced to open your eyes just by the authority in his voice.

"Yes! I-I wanted this, I-I wanted the wolf to fuck me. Please..." Geralt smiled showing his teeth and you couldn't help but think how much he resembled a real wolf when he looked at you like that. His lips were slightly swollen and covered with saliva after working on marking your skin, his pupils blown wide with arousal. He was looking at you like a wolf looked at its prey, desperate to jump at you and devour his meal.

"Beg for it." He said through gritted teeth. He removed his fingers from inside you, leaving you empty and unsatisfied. It took your pleasure-clouded mind a few seconds to process his words, too focused on the high you'd lost to let out anything more than whimpers of frustration. But that was exactly what Geralt wanted. He wanted to see you completely desperate, surrendered under his body, begging for his touch.

"Please, wolf, I need you... I need to feel you inside me, please." You begged him, looking up at him through your eyelashes. He took his fingers covered with your sweet nectar into his mouth, sucking them clean as he moaned around them. It was the hottest image you had ever seen. He was so focused on the taste of your arousal touching his tongue that for a moment you feared he might not be able to hear your pleas for attention.

“I’m yours to take… please, wolf. I need you.”

The pathetic desperation in your voice was enough for Geralt. He wasted no time, freeing his cock from its confinement and thrusting it into you in one swift movement that left you breathless. He was big and even though your arousal was seeping down your thighs, it always took you a moment to get used to the way he stretched you. He showed you some mercy, giving you a few seconds to adjust while he enjoyed the way your walls closed around his cock. Nothing compared to the warm feeling of your walls wrapped around his cock, pulling him inside you, inviting him to stay. It was the closest he had ever been to heaven, if there was such a thing.

Geralt let out a grunt as you began to move your hips against him, urging him to move. He placed his hands on either side of your head, effectively imprisoning you under his large, imposing figure. Then he gave you a sloppy, wet kiss, biting your lower lip before moving closer to your ear. "Just remember you asked for this." He whispered, sealing your fate.

The rhythm he set was fast and rough, his hips moving against yours desperately. The sheer force of his thrusts was such that you had to cling to his body to keep from sliding upward each time he entered you. It hurt a little, but in the most delicious way. He hit that special place inside you with every thrust of his hips, turning you into an incoherent moaning mess that could do nothing but dig your nails into his back in a desperate attempt to keep you grounded. Pure pleasure coursed through your veins as you felt Geralt pressing deep inside you, filling you and claiming you as his. Your sweat covered skin was on fire, only finding relief when the witcher's cold medallion that dangled over your face made contact with your body.

"Scream! I want to hear you, bunny. I want to know how good I'm making you feel." Geralt demanded and your body instantly obeyed, as if he was the true owner of your mind. "That's it, don't hold back. No one is going to find us here, you can scream all you want. It's just me and you."

The forest filled with your moans and Geralt's animalistic grunts. He couldn't contain himself, seeing you underneath him with your tangled hair full of dry leaves and your watery eyes full of pleasure was too much for him. He couldn't stop the fast rhythm of his hips even if he wanted to. The wolf inside him wanted to ruin you completely, to mark you as his and make sure you were never satisfied with any other man but him. You belonged to him, now and forever.

"You wanted this, you craved it... my little bunny, desperate to get fucked like a bitch in heat." He growled against the skin of your neck, sinking his teeth into the sensitive area below your ear.

"Yes! F-fuck, please... I'm so close." You begged him, feeling the familiar tingle spreading in your stomach as your toes curled. His fingers traveled to the little bundle of nerves pulsing between your legs, stroking it with rapid circular motions that increased your level of desperation. You were so close to your relief it was almost painful, but you wanted to wait, to hold back your pleasure so you could explode alongside Geralt.

"You want me to fill you up, mark you as mine, huh? Breed you with my pups so everyone knows you're mine?" It was an empty promise and you both knew it. Geralt was sterile and no matter how much he wanted to, he could not father a child. But that didn't make his words any less arousing. The idea of being his and having his child growing in your belly to prove it was so enticing that you couldn't help but entwine your legs around his waist as a way to make sure he didn't slip out from inside you.

"Yes, please! I'm yours, I always will be and I want everyone to know!"

"That's right, you are. And I'm yours." Geralt grunted, leaning his forehead against yours to look you in the eye as he quickened his movements, his thrusts becoming more erratic as he chased the sweet relief. "Can you feel how deep inside you I am?" He took your hand and pressed it against your lower belly, where you could feel the bulge of his cock moving inside you. "I'm going to shoot my seed so deep into you, you'll carry it inside you until your belly starts to swell up with my pups inside it. Is that what you want?"

"Yes! Please, give it to me, wolf! I need to feel you, please." You begged with your last breath, almost bursting into tears from the intensity of the pleasure you felt.

Two more thrusts were all it took for Geralt to push you over the edge. You came with a cry of his name, nails digging into the sweaty skin of his back as your warm walls tightened around his cock, forcing him to stay inside you. That was enough to trigger his own relief, his cock twitching inside you as he shot his load deep inside your cunt, painting your walls with pearly white ropes of cum. And yet, he continued to thrust inside you, making your body shake from the overstimulation. He wanted to make sure his seed stayed inside you. He wanted to be able to smell the mix of his relief and yours on you for the rest of the day.

When he finally pulled away you groaned, feeling empty. Geralt let out an airy chuckle as he dropped down next to you, struggling to catch his breath. He pulled you close to him, wrapping his arms around you and resting your head on his chest. Even after all that, he still needed to hold you close, to feel the warmth of your body against his.

You stayed like that until your breathing returned to normal, reveling in each other's closeness. You were so relaxed in his arms that you might well have fallen asleep if not for Geralt breaking the peaceful silence by clearing his throat.

"We should head back." he murmured, his fingers tracing imaginary lines on the exposed skin of your arm.

"I would if I could move." You joked as you began to feel the pain in your tired muscles. You didn't regret anything, though.

"I'm sorry."

You lifted your head from his chest to look at him, giving him a smile to ease the guilt he might be feeling for hurting you. "Don't be, you did exactly what I wanted you to do." You reached up to kiss him and he gladly reciprocated, cupping your cheek with his free hand so he could deepen the kiss.

However, he pulled away faster than you expected. You whined again, but he ignored you, getting up from the floor and shaking the dirt off his clothes. "It's getting late, we need to go." He said and you huffed. You weren't ready to move yet.

"Geraaalt" you complained, pouting. He looked down at you, ready to scold you, but was distracted by the sight of his artwork in all its glory. Your sweat-covered skin glowed under the afternoon light, highlighting your beauty. Your body was covered in his teeth marks and a trail of reddened hickeys trailed from your neck to your breasts and disappeared under the fabric of your dress. You carried his scent on your body, his seed inside you and his teeth marks on your skin. That alone was enough to awaken the wolf inside him once again, though he held back.

"You look beautiful." He said, kneeling beside you to help you knot the ties in the front of your dress, hiding your breasts and the marks he had made behind the fabric.

The softness in Geralt's eyes was such that you felt the need to hide your face, feeling embarrassed and somehow more exposed than when you were having sex. However, he didn't give you time to react as he quickly pulled you into his arms and made his way back to the hut. You relaxed in his arms, wrapping your hands around the back of his neck and snuggling against his shoulder.

"I love you." you said in an almost inaudible whisper. It was as if you were speaking more to yourself than for Geralt to hear you. As if the words had escaped your lips as you were lost in thought.

But Geralt's hearing was exceptionally good. And he couldn't help but smile to himself as he heard those words.

#geralt of rivia x reader #geralt of rivia x fem reader #geralt of rivia smut #geralt x reader #the witcher x reader #the witcher smut #geralt of rivia x reader smut #geralt of rivia imagine #henry cavill #the witcher fanfiction #the witcher #the witcher netflix

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mystra-midnight · 2 years ago

Text

Howl

summary: it was not love that kept him coming back, but a need for company, for an evening of peace where the world outside the shaking walls of your cottage ceased to exist.

warnings: 18+ only. rough sex. choking. slight praise kink. all-around smutty goodness. geralt is a dominant and dirty sob.

word count: 3.2k

notes: honestly i’m not sure exactly where this idea came from but i can say it is partly inspired by the song howl by florence and the machine.

"_____"

You’d not been expecting to see him again so soon. Geralt had visited only a few days ago to satisfy the desire that beat at him incessantly and without remorse. Some of the villagers said you should never have allowed the White Wolf sanctuary within your home—that fateful event had begun your tumultuous relationship—but reclusiveness often came with loneliness, and that was something the two of you shared.

It was not love that kept him coming back, but a need for company, for an evening of peace where the world outside the shaking walls of your cottage ceased to exist. In those few hours before the sun rose, what you’d always hoped for would come true: loneliness would forget your address.

So when you hear his voice, it’s a surprise, but not an unwelcome one.

You can’t prevent the smile that finds your lips as you place the bowl on the counter. Your hands ache as you wipe them on the front of your skirts, leaving them damp and dirty. You’d been kneading dough to make bread in the morning, and now your fingers were stiff and clumps of dough were stuck beneath your nails.

But none of that was why you froze after turning to face him.

He was standing in the doorway, filling the frame with his bulk. There was blood splattered on his face, dripping from his plump lips; it was fresh and likely still warm. It was also still wet; you could see it glistening on his dark leather armour beneath the moonlight peeking in through the doorway, but this was not what made your heart skip a beat.

His eyes were as black as the night and narrowed with dangerous focus. There were tendrils snaking along his skin, stretching like a Kraken’s tentacles reaching out through the deep ocean in search of prey. His aura was strong, filling the room despite the distance between you. It was powerful and condemning, making you shiver.

"Geralt." You were careful to keep your voice low and calm, knowing that he was unpredictable in this state. You’d heard rumours about what he was like and what moods would take him when he took his witcher potions. Every one of his senses would be heightened more than they already were: sight, smell, and taste, but those were the obvious ones.

His body was likely on fire with urgent need. His mind would be in a haze. His thoughts would be overwhelmed with sensation and the desire to feel the satin clutch of your cunt wrapped around his aching cock. Your eyes drift down to find the bulge at the front of his pants, confirming your suspicions.

He steps into the cottage, which seems much smaller with him inside. He moves slowly, but you have no retreat; the small of your back is pressed tightly against the counter you had been working at only moments ago. His boots thudded on the woodwork, tracking mud, dirt, and god knows what else across the floor. He hasn’t even closed the door.

His blackened eyes feast on the sight of you—the way your skin prickles with goosebumps beneath the cold air sweeping through the door, how your nipples harden into peaks beneath the assault of his stare and your own thoughts.

You like the Witcher well enough but know enough about him to maintain a healthy balance of respect and apprehension. "Are you hurt?" You ask in a quiet voice, fighting to keep the tremor from your words but failing. "I have bandages."

His low growl was enough to silence you.

"Take off your clothes."

His command was absolute, leaving no room for argument. It was like a slap to the face, leaving you startled and staring at him with wide eyes. But the rumble of his voice was deep and memorising, making your pussy weep as moisture pooled at the apex of your thighs. You press yourself tighter against the counter until the small of your back aches beneath the pressure.

"Geralt, I-"

He crossed the distance remaining between the two of you with unnatural speed, his hand coming up to clutch you roughly by the throat, silencing you as his fingers pressed into the sides of your neck. The warmth of his body is intoxicating, or maybe it was his grip on your neck that made you feel lightheaded as he forced you backwards, bending you back until your elbows pressed painfully into the counter and your skirts pressed firmly against the front of his trousers.

"Do not speak," he instructs. "Not unless it is to tell me you’re cumming."

His fingers clutch tighter at your throat, the pads of them pressing so roughly into the arteries either side of your neck that your vision blurs, and you wheeze in protest. You grabbed at his wrist when your lungs began to burn, your dirty nails clawing at his skin.

Geralt was not a gentleman; you knew this. He had never been a gentleman, nor would he be. When you found him half dead at the edge of the stream, manticore venom oozing from the puncture wound in his shoulder, you knew he was a force of nature, too stubborn to die. And you knew from the rumours that he took what he pleased and ignored the repercussions of his actions. You knew all of this, and you still brought him home.

He'd taken you the first night he’d awoken, delirious and in pain, and you’d let him. His hands held your hips so tightly that they’d bruised, his cock stretching your tight pussy in delicious and delirious ways as he took you from behind, the tip of him pressed against your cervix, your face smushed into the mattress. He’d stayed for four days and taken you repeatedly, until your legs couldn’t support your own weight and your body ached.

So when his fingers bite tighter into your neck, making darkness encroach on the edge of your vision, and tears dance on your lashline, you’re not all that surprised. Geralt fucked like he fought: teeth, tongue, and aggression.

Geralt towered over you, making you feel so small. He has you bent backwards so that your tits are thrust out. Your lips part in a mewl that goes unheard. Geralt kisses you hard, his tongue pushing past your lips and into your mouth, swallowing the little gasp you make when his fingers tear open the front of your dress, exposing your goose-prickled skin to the night air.

His lips taste like blood and something else—perhaps the ingredients of his potions. One moment they’re sweet like berries, and the next repugnant, leaving your desires whiplashed.

At long last, he lets go of your throat and grabs roughly at your skirts, bunching them up at your waist. You suck in a much-needed breath, coughing and spluttering; your lungs burning violently, and your body threatening to collapse to the ground. Geralt palms your tits roughly, his nails scraping at your skin on the wrong side of pleasure. He pinches your nipple hard, pulling on it cruelly to lure you up from the counter.

You whine in protest, but he keeps you silent with another kiss, his teeth dragging over your lower lip, tongue in the wet cavern of your mouth, twisting with your tongue. Geralt is like fire, and you are a moth to his flame.

Your hands move on their own accord, pressing firmly into his chest as though to push him away. Your fingers come away coated in blood, sticky as you fist them in his white hair, bloodying his already dirty locks. Geralt is rough, sitting you on the edge of the counter and shoving your thighs apart, making space for his hand to be shoved to the apex of your thighs, his fingers finding the thatch of damp curls.

His name is a whine that dies on your tongue before it can be said when his instructions repeat in your mind like a warning. You have half a mind to push him away. His lips are too rough as they suck dark marks along the side of your neck and shoulder, and his teeth leave red crescent moons as he tastes your skin.

His hand at your hip is holding too tightly, his fingertips bruising your skin despite the layers of skirts that hinder him. You want to speak, want to tell him to let you go, want to tell him to be gentle, but your throat aches more with each whimper and moan he forces from you, reminding you about the power of his hands.

He could break you very easily.

The tips of his fingers nudge your clit, making your breath catch in your throat in a needy whine. His mouth is still on your neck, having never left, leaving a map of darkening bruises along your collarbones and the hollow of your throat until you pull desperately on his hair to drag his mouth back to yours.

He pushes two fingers into your weeping hole, hitting deep without giving you time to adjust. His hands are large, his fingers thick, stretching your snug walls. You cling to him as pleasure sweeps through you, a bloodied hand still tangled in his starlight locks, your lips parting against his in a breathless plea as his fingers crash into you, forcing your legs to fall further apart.

"Look at you," he whispers against your trembling lips. "Such a good girl."

His teeth trap your lower lip in a voracious bite, one that was hard enough to have your inside walls clenching tightly around his probing fingers, leaving tears brimming at the edges of your eyes. He sucks your lip into his mouth, laving his tongue over the reddening bite, before letting it go with a lewd pop. You whine, your nails scratching beautifully at his scalp when his heel of his palm hits your clit.

"Geralt!" You keen loudly when he finds your sweet spot, a leg kicking out in reaction. He grabs your thigh in a cruel grip and spreads you open again, shushing you with a harsh growl. He works faster now that he’s found it, his palm slapping against your buzzing clit with every thrust of his arm, making your body twitch.

He runs his tongue across your heated skin, leaving a wet stripe from one of your nipples, over the bruises on your shoulder, up your neck, and to your mouth. You feel his smug smirk as he presses a kiss against your cupid's bow and again when he drags his lips across your cheek, tasting the tears that have fallen.

"You can take another one."

He isn’t asking.

You burrow your fingers into his hair in an attempt to anchor yourself when the familiar white-hot heat of orgasm starts seizing your organs. You shake your head from side to side, your hair tumbling wildly around your face, straining to close your legs when the pressure builds.

Geralt pinches the fat of your thigh, then your nipple, and then grabs your face roughly. His fingers dig into your mandible, forcing your lips open. You stare up at him with lust-blown eyes. You think he might hit you; you hope that he doesn’t; you hope that he does; you don’t even know what you want anymore.

The next time he thrusts into your fucked-open hole, it is with three fingers, and something inside you just snaps. He hits deep, finds that spot again with the tips of all three fingers, and you break with full-body twitches that make your entire body tremble beneath him as you come completely undone. "I’m - I’m gonna - cum!"

He doesn’t stop. He keeps going until your juice is escaping around his fingers, coating your thighs and dripping from the thatch of curls that crown your pretty cunt. He doesn't stop when you pant at him, when you moan for mercy, or when you wriggle your hips and try to push him away. Instead, he buries his fingers in your cunt, scissors them in your gummy walls, and kisses you hard: teeth, tongue, and hard male aggression.

You're still coming down from the clouds when he manhandles you into position, the aftershocks of your orgasm still pulsing through your core, beating in time with your wild heart. He puts you on your knees. Your arms are weak and unable to support your weight, so you press your cheek against the ground. Your skirts are bunched around your waist, your glistening cunt exposed to his hungry gaze.

You hear his swords clattering to the ground, followed seconds later by his belt, and then he spreads your lips open with his thumbs, making your inner muscles clench desperately. Geralt licks from your swollen clit to your pretty hole, using his tongue to push the slick back into you. He hums with pleasure when your body jerks at the sensation.

"You taste like heaven." He says it with a hum, his breath hot against your cunt, making your core drip with wanton desire. He eats you like a man possessed, as though he were on the brink of death and your pussy alone could save him. Ever so slowly, one hand started sliding up while the other slid down, moving in a circular motion at your hips.

You whimper at the gentleness, the sound going straight to his cock, which twitches against his stomach in response. His palms the soft globes of your ass and spreads your cheeks, his tongue prodding through your folds once again. He runs the flat of his tongue from your clit, to your pretty hole, then to your nether hole. He has you teetering on the edge of oblivion when he stops, and before you can whine for more, you feel the head of his cock splitting you open.

You scratch at the dirty ground, desperate for something to hold onto, when he buries himself completely in your cunt with a single thrust, tearing a howling moan from your throat as you come undone again, inner walls spasming around him. Nothing about Geralt of Rivia is small, certainly not his cock. He’s pressed against your cervix, and it feels like he's in the back of your throat, like he’s going to break you as your pussy strains to accommodate his girth.

It never mattered how many times he made you cum; accommodating his cock was always a harsh demand.

Geralt does not stay still for long, giving you no time to adjust to his girth; his hips pull back only to snap forwards again. The force of his thrust pushes you forwards, your tits and cheek catching on the muddy floor, and your nipples pebble even more beneath the rough stimulation. His pace is frenzied and without mercy.

In this state, he is unconcerned with your pleasure and instead focuses on his own. He loves the velvet heat of your inner walls and how they wrap so tightly around him. He loves when your cunt swallows every inch he has to give. He loves when your arousal slicks down your thighs, drips from your mound, and puddles on the floor beneath you. He loves the way your thighs tremble when he finds the right angle for his hips, and he always finds it.

He loves when you're gagging on him, on your knees, and looking up at him as though he hung the stars in the sky. He loves seeing your skin marked with bruises, how you flush with embarrassment, and how you try to hide them from the other villages. He loves that you are addicted to him. He does not love you, though, and you're smart enough to know this.

Geralt fucks harder when he feels your gummy walls clamping on his cock in a vice-like grip. Pleasure starts to sear in your veins. His fingers are like coils of iron around your hips, holding so tight that you're sure your bones are bending.

And just when you think it can't feel better and that he can't do anything else to make you lose your mind, he shadows over you, his chest pressing against your back.

You feel the hard buckles of his armour pressing into your back through the tattered remains of your dress; you can feel the fabric dampening with blood, but it’s the furthest thought from your mind. Geralt forces your legs further apart and continues his assault on your core. The pleasurable feeling builds, and you bite your bottom lip hard, almost cutting through your own skin, to keep from screaming. The door was still open; anyone could see; everyone could hear.

But when the mushroom head of his cock crashes into that spot hard enough to make your entire body shudder, you’re lost.

Your muffled moans became screams of pleasure that seem to shake the walls of your cottage. Geralt continued to drill into you with bruising force, his hips hitting your ass with a constant slap, slap, slap. You feel your orgasm start and then instantly crash over you. Geralt buries himself to the hilt with a gutteral groan, his cock pulsing as he exploded, filling you with ribbons of cum.

He held himself perfectly still while your sweet cunt rippled around him, your thighs violently shaking, threatening to go out from under you. It was only his arm wrapped around your waist that kept you up. And when your trembling slowed and you'd barely caught your breath, your inner walls still fluttering around his cock, he fucked into you again and again, dragging his seed out and then pushing it back in, working it like lubricant.

You whine in protest.

"Geralt, I don’t think I-"

He fists a hand in your hair, crushing the sweaty strands in his fingers as he hauls you to your knees, your words morphing into a screech mid-sentence. Fresh tears spring to your eyes and run down your cheeks like rivers. You're crying because it feels so fucking good, because the pleasure is quickly becoming too much, because he is rough and passionate, and you can't get enough of it. You open and close your mouth, your voice refusing to make a sound other than little grunts and groans as he bucks up into you.

If he were to die right now, he would never come to regret this.

If you died, neither would you.

His hands move, are everywhere and nowhere all at once, and then one of them is at your throat, his fingertips finding their earlier position upon the sides of your neck and digging in, making you lightheaded once again. The other one is on your tits, pinching cruelly at a nipple to start and then palming at them roughly.

He was an animal, a beast, and you didn't want him any other way.

"Cum!" You manage to choke out, your vision blurring with tears while you stare at the stars through the opened door. "Gonna cum!"

You cry out in rapture as he groans against your shoulder. Geralt clenches his jaw, his hands gripping brutally at your body, pinning you to him as your cunt chokes the life out of him. If someone were to ask him, he would swear that he'd died when you twitched and trembled against him, your arousal dripping from the both of you, mixing with his as he filled you again.

Geralt lets you fall limp to the ground, your body still trembling, his seed leaking from your fucked-open hole. He falls beside you and rolls onto his back, chest heaving and eyes amber once again.

If someone were to ask him, he'd swear he'd died, and he'd swear he'd found solace buried in your cunt.

#geralt of rivia #geralt of rivia smut #geralt of rivia fanfiction #geralt of rivia imagine #geralt of rivia x reader #geralt of rivia x y/n

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