#Geralt: not interested? I KISSED you!

[greisekinderschar]

regarding book!dandelion’s much discussed misogyny one thing i find insanely amusing is how the gamer bro fanbase perceives it.

because to me, it’s like, supposed to be one of his weaknesses. it’s one of the ways in which he is unhinged that continuously gets him in trouble. yeah, there’s a joke here and there. but like. dudu thinks he can get away in dandelion’s form? nah man, the angry woman with the frying pan knocks you out, worst decision you made that day. he’s afraid he’ll get murdered if they go to toussaint. he survives the quest to end up on a scaffold because he couldn’t stop fucking around.

yet, when you see the dude bro “book stans’” reaction to the queer netflix reveal there are very personal grievances when they say “you made the womanizer gay!!!”. we know he’s not gay. he’s bi. he fucks more than twice the amount. but the fact that “the womanizer” would as much as look at a man somehow hurts these people in their masculinity, which reveals they think this part of him to be the cool, masculine part.

and it’s really funny to me, because i have this idea of sapkowski using bard characters (he does it in the hussite trilogy as well) to have some, dare i say it, subversive masculinities. because dandelion is very un-masculine in the context of the story. not only does he challenge the temerian knights and others by directly insulting their idea of masculinity and often ridicules the hierarchic structures he himself benefits from despite having fled the connected responsibilities. he’s not a fighter, he’s a poet, he’s not ‘hot’, he is pretty. he’s a coward, he is vain, he is bitchy, he is emotionally intelligent. he laments the gruesomeness of war that is nothing like the heroic masculine stories told about it. he is kind of the mum of the hansa. in short, he is very ‘feminine’, except for his womanizing and his misogynist moments (and the drinking). the parts of him that are, as i said, the most pathetic of his character. and yet, readers who are caught up in the structures of hegemonic masculinities perceive it as a way to consolidate his place in the hierarchy. in a way, his assholery is his redeeming quality in the masculine order. or at least that is what i believe, because why else would they have such an extreme reaction. if dandelion loses his one hegemonic masculine trait of putting himself above women by also sleeping with men, then he is not a man.

[i am aware the concept of masculinities has fluctuated massively in history, which is the point of hegemonic masculinities, and that medieval courtly masculinities had their own ‘feminized’ moments, with monks complaining about the knightly fashion making them look like vain women, but this is a fantasy saga that the reader perceives from contemporary standards, and the masculinities presented are very warrior-centered]

plus, i imagine it complicates his friendship with geralt. because they are bro bros, going to the BROthel together, sharing beds, kissing each other on the cheek for goodbye. if one of these bros is interested in dick, it makes emotional intimacy among men ~weird~. it makes the dude bros go “a bro cant have anything”. but bro, bro, you could have everything. you could even have a bite of dandelion.

[notyetneedcoffee]

Stretch

Kinktober - Size Kink NSFW - Adults Only

Summary - The Witcher is just so big.

“I’m surprised to see you here.” You smiled up at the Witcher. “Particularly tonight.”

“Hmm.” He rumbled, though you noted his golden eyes kept darting down to you.

Standing close to him and wearing stays that held your breasts high, gave him a particularly enticing view. You knew how to take advantage of your small stature when it came to men. This man, however, was always a challenge.

People milled around the hall dressed in their finest. A large fire blazed in the hearth and musicians played. No one danced. This gathering was not that kind of celebration.

Some people considered the Trades Celebration archaic. The villages in these mountains, being isolated and small, would gather once every ten years. Some of the men and women would bed others from other villages to diversify the bloodlines of each isolated area. As the main objective of the celebration was pregnancy, a famously sterile Witcher seemed decidedly out of place.

“I could say the same for you.” Geralt finally said. “I would not have expected you to be anxious to become a mother.”

“I’m not.” You leaned a little closer to him to speak conspiratorially. “But there are great business contacts to be made here.”

He nodded. You were a herbologist. He often sought you out for rare and valuable ingredients.

“What brought you here?”

“Bruxa.” Geralt frowned. “After I cleared them out, I was offered a place to stay for a time and asked to attend tonight by Marthox.”

You grinned, glancing at the rich village elder and his four daughters. “Do you think he’s ignorant to the fact that you are unable to pass on your magnificent genes?”

“Probably.” He took a long drink from his glass.

“Do you plan to deflower one – or all – of his willing daughters anyway?”

“No.” He leaned down to your ear. The top of your head only came to his shoulder. “I’m more interested in something a little more feisty.”

“Then why are we wasting time here?” You grinned.

Geralt just turned and marched out of the hall. You had to jog to keep up with him. As soon as you turned the corner into a dark hallway, the Witcher paused. He swept you up and tossed you over one shoulder.

You swallowed a squeak, grabbing the back of his jacket out of fear of the height. “Geralt!”

“You were moving too slow.” He chuckled.

His room boasted its own large fireplace, stone bathing tub, and soft bed. You bounced in the middle of the mattress when he tossed you down. Geralt grabbed your foot to unlace your shoes. Laying there, looking at your foot in his large hands, feeling his strong fingers rub into the arch of your foot, lit the fire in your belly.

Geralt placed a knee on the bed and leaned over you. His white hair fell forward and you could smell the mead upon his breath. “It’s good to see you, little one.”

You touched his face, running your fingers over his high cheek bones and strong jaw. When you skimmed the soft skin of his lips, he lowered his head and kissed you. Your tongue eagerly reached for his as the kiss grew rough.

Geralt broke away with a satisfied noise. He gathered your skirts in his hands, lifting them to your waist. Your legs instinctively fell open for him as his rough hands slid along your thighs. As his thick finger teased your opening, rubbed around your clitoris, awakening your arousal, you laid your head back and studied his looming form.

You adored the time spent with the Witcher in bed. You felt tiny, delicate, and feminine under his touch. He exuded power. His strength could take your breath away, but you never feared he would hurt you. His wide chest engulfed you. His thick thighs pushed your legs so far apart.

Geralt’s head lowered between your legs, tasting your sex, licking and sucking at your clit. Fire circled through your body. You needed more. Pulling at the laces of your bodice, you desperately fought to free yourself from your clothes. Geralt manhandled you around, tugging at skirts and throwing away underclothes. Once naked, he again buried his face in your cunt with a determined growl.

You pulled at his white hair, shaking as his grumble vibrated through your clitoris. Two thick fingers slipped through your wetness, spreading your slick, pumping against sensitive flesh, and stretching you. Deep moans poured from your mouth as your hips rocked into his face.

Geralt rose to his knees, rubbing at your clit and fingers pumping wetly in your cunt. Your back arched as the coiling tension threatened to snap. The corner of his lip curled up. His gravel deep voice poured over you like warm honey. “That’s it, little one. Come all over my hand and I’ll stretch this pretty little pussy over my cock.”

You shook, cunt clenching at his fingers, wetness flooding over his hands.

As you lay there feeling your thighs quiver, Geralt stripped off his clothes. He did so with efficiency and no attempt at seduction, still the flex of his muscles and sight of his hard flesh caused the fire to flared hotter.

Geralt crawl over the top of you, mouth covering your breast and sucking your nipple to a hard peak. His kisses trailed up your neck, teeth grazing your skin. Kissing you, allowing you to taste yourself on his tongue, he pushed your legs further apart with his knees.

You felt the wide head of his cock rub along your entrance. With immense control, he pushed in. The stretch bordered on pain, but under assault of his kiss, breathing in the scent of sweat and sex, your body rocked up against him to invite him deeper. Rocking slowly, each thrust pushing him further, filling you. Heat burned down your chest to settle between your legs.

He sat back on his heels, pulling your body along with him. You cried out at the change of angle, his cock hitting just the right spot. Your legs wrapped around his waist. Memorized you watched Geralt allow a drop of spittle to fall up on your clit. His thumb circled and stroked as he fucked into you harder.  

You moaned, back arching and hands clutching at the sheets.

“Fuck,” He growled. “Fuck, yes.”

You shook in his grip.

“Mmm.” Geralt’s hips moved faster, harder. “Again. Fuck. Come again.”

You squeezed your own tits. Geralt moaned. Your thighs quivered. You panted, breath escaping with each thrust. “Oh, gods!”

His fingers dug into your hips. He lifted your pelvis to meet each powerful thrust. Fucking you hard. You felt like you were being blissfully split into two. He growled. “I said fucking come for me.”

“Yes!” You snapped, shaking hard, whiting out.

Faster, rougher, and soon Geralt roared his own release.

He flopped back on the bed, pulling you along with him. You lay spread across his chest, a sated and boneless mass. No part of you touched the bed. You floated on a warm island of Geralt muscle. You rubbed your nose into the hair on his chest, breathing in his scent.

“Hmmm.” He sighed, one big hand coming up to rest on your ass. “Did I hurt you?”

“No.” You mumbled with a smile. “But I can’t feel my feet.”

“I’ll carry you if I need to.” The smile could be heard in his voice. “Cause I’m not through with you yet, little one.”

Want more? Check out my Master List.

[thedemonofcat]

“Dandelion!”

“I actually go by ‘Jaskier’ now,” the fairy said from where he lounged atop a giant mushroom. He rolled over to look down at the white-haired witcher. “What do you want? I haven’t even been in the human realm for years.”

The witcher replied, “I know. I don’t come to slay you. I’m here to bargain. Your bargains are known to be fair.”

Jaskier sighed, rolling his shoulders and fluttering his wings. “You see, this is why I left the human realm. Everyone wants to make deals. Why does everything have to be about deals?”

“I’ve brought treasures.” The Witcher continued, ignoring Jaskier’s point. “Take any of them. Take all of them. I just need twelve hours of uninterrupted, restful sleep.”

That ignited Jaskier’s interest. He rolled off the mushroom and soared down to look at the witcher properly.

Wow. He did look worse for wear. Jaskier almost couldn’t appreciate how beautiful his eyes were because of how bloodshot they were.

“Oh, you poor dear. You do need rest. Such a thing is easy for me to grant. So much so that I’d feel guilty taking your treasures. I’ll just ask for a little kiss instead.

Although Jaskier thought his offer was quite generous, the witcher balked.

Well, “there’s no need to be rude!”

“Sorry,” the witcher mumbled. “I just haven’t before.”

“Oh?” Jaskier said, and then he understood. “Oh! I did not mean to be so bold as to ask for your virtue.”

The witcher honest-to-gods blushed and grumbled, “not a virgin.”

“But you are a tad innocent,” Jaskier teased.

The witcher stuck out his hand, saying, “I accept your deal.”

Being the gentleman he was, Jaskier took the gloved hand and brought it to his lips. The magic of the deal burst to life the moment his lips brushed against black leather. “Sleep well, darling.”

Because he was a soft touch, Jaskier caught the suddenly sleeping witcher and even carried him back to his steed (lovely girl. Very protective, but she was smart enough to not try to bite Jaskier until Geralt was sleeping beside her).

Jaskier assumed he would never see the witcher again.

He was proven wrong.

Jaskier thought he’d been careful—at least, careful enough. But somehow, he’d still ended up in human hands.

"Let me go!" Jaskier shouted, yanking futilely at the iron chain clamped around his ankle. His wings beat desperately, but he couldn’t get far.

"Now, I may have exaggerated a bit about the ‘monster problem,’” came the smooth, smug voice of his captor from the other side of the door. “I don’t need you to kill anything, Witcher. Just to help me... train my new pet."

A key turned in the lock, and as soon as the door cracked open, Jaskier lunged. His hands missed the nobleman by inches, but he did manage to snatch a feathered quill from his belt.

"Bad!" the nobleman yelped, yanking the chain to pull Jaskier back. "I do apologize—”

Geralt’s eyes narrowed at the scene before him; he’d expected a standard job, but this was anything but. "You captured a fae," he said, voice low with warning. "Do you have any idea how dangerous that is?"

[imagineredwood]

11. Brushing dirt off their face

These prompts are super cute i love them 😭

Coco’s eyes are lit up the moment he sees you getting out of your car and walking towards him. He smiles and so do you.

“God, she’s got him whipped already. Look how quick he gets that goofy fucking look on his face.”

Coco gives Gilly his middle finger as he ducks out from under the hood of the car he’s working on, ignoring the boyish banter between him and Angel as he wipes his greasy hands on a rag. He meets you half way, his grin permanent.

“Hey.”

“Hi.”

Your smile is just like his, happy and stuck in place. He leans his face towards yours and somehow your grin broadens, kissing the very corner of his mouth twice. He’s patient with you. Lets you take your time. It’s all still so new. He knows in time you’ll kiss him directly and he savors the build up until you do.

“How was your day?”

You nod and clasp your hands together, his interest in you and your day always making you feel warm.

“It was good. I got off a little early. Wanted to come see you.”

Coco feels like a high schooler again, butterflies fluttering in his tummy that he hasn’t felt in what feels like forever. He reaches for your hand and brings it up to his lips, kissing your knuckles adoringly.

“Thank you. I was gonna stop by and see you when I left here. Once I got cleaned up, you know.”

He feels maybe a little self conscious, sweaty and dirty and greasy. But you’re not looking at him any different. Same tenderness as when he’s all cleaned up and smelling of cologne.

You smile again and use the hand that he isn’t holding to reach up to his cheek, using your thumb to brush away some dirt that’s close to his eye. You brush at his lashes and he closes his eyes and lets you. It’s then you can hear the kissy noises coming from the boys that makes you feel somewhat bashful. You almost forgot they were there.

Coco rolls his eyes and keeps hold of your hand, leading you away from them and towards the clubhouse, brushing away any dirt that may be lingering on your fingers as he does.

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[artistsfuneral]

a/b/o, but for once the story is actually about the beta

big no progrom pack with Geralt, Eskel, Lambert, Gweld and Gardis and Aubry and Clovis

with Lambert still being the youngest of their pack, a beta (thank fuck) who they all say matches really nicely with their scent

Lambert, fresh out of presentation (still changed his body, still felt weird and intrusive and absolutely exhausting, even without it ending in a heat or rut) just goes with it - surely they know what they're talking about

so Lambert is pack. he sits with them, eats with them, trains with them and shares a den (not his bed, he needs his own bed) with them

and nobody really explains anything to him? do they just assume that he knows what to do?? have Gweld and Gardis instinctively know what to do once they presented as betas? then, why doesn't he know what to do??

why does it feel so wrong?

cue Lambert, during his pack's heat cycle, feeling more like a handmaiden than a pack member. when Gweld and Gardis care for their omegas, they're rewarded with bright smiles and soft kisses, when Lambert does he gets a 'good job'? when Gweld and Gardis care for their alphas, they're hugged and scented and when Lambert does he gets a pat on the shoulder?

do they even want him there?

it feels obvious that they do not. so after their cycle is over he walks out on them (hates that his instincts won't let him leave while they're still at it, while he still can work for them) and doesn't look back

two years later he finds himself in Tretogor of all places, chewing through a stale piece of bread that seriously has seen better days but was half off at the market, while watching a newly mated alpha omega pair making eyes at each other

and he just- he feels his pack bond breaking and he cries, silent tears running down his face while he eats a piece of bread that suddenly tastes so much worse

Meanwhile Madison is grappling with the fact that not every issues can be settled by committee

meanwhile six other witchers are going absolutely nuts over the fact that they feel the bond to their youngest, sweetest, grumpiest pack member fading away

this is how things went from their perspective:

they're litter mates, close knit and seemingly perfectly balanced: two alphas, two omegas, two betas

and then - decades later - they scent a new pack mate and it's that one guy, only surviver of his cohort, half-feral, spicey, grumpy Lambert

he doesn't really fit a beta's usually calm, softspoken demeanor, but they don't care, because he fits their pack so well, they never knew how much they needed him until they met Lambert

immune to their omegas' charm and their alphas' dominance, Lambert does what Gweld and Gardis would never be bold enough to do

he openly berates them when they're being stupid, always saying out loud what he thinks, doesn't cower in front of the alphas and neither is too soft with their omegas

but

but he never initiates anything that could be interpreted as more than just friendly, sleeps in his own bed, doesn't seem to like prolonged contact and not once has asked for anything during their heat cycle

they just assumed Lambert wasn't interested. because he's always so up front with everything else, surely he'd just say something, right?

wrong. and they realize that as soon as he vanishes right after they calm down from their latest cycle - "I thought he just stepped out for a moment, what do you mean he's gone?!"

and for two years he doesn't return to Kaer Morhen and the pack grows morw and more worried

and then they feel their bond to him fail

and all hell breaks loose

[thelostgirl21]

So, you are telling me that Jaskier used to wear outfits the color of the sea in Season 1...

That he constantly complains about his feet hurting, or struggling with keeping his footing while having to wear boots (is the problem his actual boots or a lack of early practice in life?!)...

That he got all excited at the thought that Geralt might catch him a fish to eat...

That a huge part of his identity and the pride he takes in himself is tied to his singing voice and abilities...

That his songs have been described as having the power to sing a king off his clothes...

That helping his best friend in the whole wide world bathe after rubbing soothing chamomile onto his lovely bottom is typical friendship behavior to him...

That he vulnerably asked for Geralt to get away for a while with him, and head to the (west?) coast, in the hopes that he might be able to prove himself a worthy [travel] companion (works whether you interpret the interest as romantic or queerplatonic).

And then he basically implied that (returning home with Geralt?) might be what would please him most.

That the very first thing he did after Geralt returned to him and got him out of his cell in Season 2, is take off his top and jump into the freaking nearest body of water!

That he's hypersensitive to the way people on land start stinking after a while (including himself), and will openly suggest they should bathe (or downright bathe them himself)!

That he talks with animals...

That you had him fall in love with a human prince in Season 3...

... then had him sing a song about a human prince that falls in love with a siren to Ciri right before you had him go meet with said prince, share his first kiss with him, and make love to him in a woodshed!

... only to show a clip from "Sirens of the Deep" revealing that the Netflix version of Jaskier is from

Bremervoord

a.k.a. The vassal state of Cidaris and one of the places that goes the furthest west into the sea on the Continent!

Bremervoord, with an economy running primarily on pearls fishing.

Bremervoord, the place where the story of Jaskier's Season 3 song, "A Little Sacrifice" takes place...

A place where a prince (though I think it's a duke in the actual short story) meets a siren, falls in love with her, and willingly leaves his human life behind to follow her at sea.*

*according to the song, at least! And I'm not sure it ends well for the prince of the song, because that part about him sinking to darkest night sounds a bit ominous if you ask me... The book's short story has a different conclusion.

You're basically telling me that Jaskier comes from a place on the coast that goes far into the sea to the west, a place where merpeople and humans occasionally interact, and that he didn't really feel like talking about where he's from, because he felt like the only way for him to ever be able to "become himself" was to leave his home behind...

... AND YOU EXPECT ME NOT TO LATCH ONTO THAT POPULAR MERMAN!JASKIER THEORY?!

OR INSTINCTIVELY START DEVELOPING A BUNCH OF HEADCANONS ABOUT IT?

For example :

What if Jaskier keeps repeating that "he's just a bard" not because he's actually dismissing how good, influential, or powerful he is...

... but because he chose to give up his tail to permanently become a human, and he doesn't like to be reminded that he doesn't quite "fully belong" with humanity, because there's something a bit different and "unique" about his singing.

What if, growing up as a merboy, he'd kept feeling like he was born in the wrong body and with the wrong species given his brethren's attitude about singing as an artform.

What if when merpeople sing, they typically rely on pure melodies without lyrics, and argue that only humans and other species of the land - with their inferior vocal capabilities - must rely on something as primitive as words and lyrics to inspire emotions and make ideas take root into other people's minds.

What if they do have a singing speech pattern, but when it comes to artistic expression, the songs are purely melodic.

But Jaskier, after listening to some of the folk songs that the local bards enjoy singing by the fire at the beach, often accompanied by a lute or other instruments, fell in love with the way the words of those songs flow and sound.

Perhaps he revealed himself to Essi then, and that, instead of being scared of him, she agreed to show him how to play the lute, speak her language, and sing the way humans do.

And when he did fully grasp the beauty and the power of using verbal poetry into songs, he knew he could never look back.

What if Essi was the first person to ever really see him for who he was and treat him as family, hence why he loves her like a little sister.

Maybe "the Lettenhoves" are basically a group of merpeople with no actual blood relation, that lost their own families and were rejected by them when they chose to make the full transition from merperson to human.

By pretending to be blood relatives, they've managed, however, to realistically pass as a large human noble family, acquire a bunch of lands and estates over the years that is passed to each new generation that wants them, and each new member is given a certain amount of money when they become one of the Lettenhoves to begin their new life on land!

They aren't extremely close, because they each have their own lives and personal ventures (very few go into singing careers), but they are still people that understand what being a human born at sea feels like, and that will be there to offer each other help and support if need be!

And so, Jaskier was able to go study at the University of Oxenfurt and learn as much of the human world and its arts as he could!

But, while his voice remains a bit more powerful and influential than most humans that were born on land, that influence comes with a "curse"...

Most people that instinctively fall under the charm of his melodies (note: Jaskier can use his voice to make an audience more susceptible to anger and annoyance when he sings, too. An especially useful skill to have when you're relying on food being thrown at you to eat... Hence why Geralt's lack of emotional response to his singing when they met was so intriguing!) will typically only care about how they make them feel, rather than how Jaskier himself was feeling when he wrote his songs.

Geralt, Yennefer and Ciri are all immune to his siren charms - and dwarves appear to be more resistant as well - but, while his songs inspire people, and hearing him sing them "live" with his actual voice tends to make people become instantly infatuated with him (or immediately hate him, should Jaskier wish to repel rather than attract them)...

... they rarely ever see him or seemingly attempt to connect with him on an intimate, emotional level, like they would with another human being.

And so, every time Jaskier is reminded of how much influence he appears to have over how people see the world when he uses his voice, Jaskier's tendency to remind them that he's "just a bard" is because he wishes people would connect with his humanity, too, rather than what he can do.

Regardless of him being able to pass as someone that was born on land and started his life in a fully human body, he knows that his voice will always carry some remnant of his siren abilities.

And that this difference appears to be preventing him from emotionally and physically connecting with other human beings that weren't born at sea like him, the way he wishes he could.

And so, that's why he was initially hesitant to sing for Radovid, and he kept insisting that he wasn't in a "singing mood" that day.

Because he knew that, the moment Radovid heard his singing voice, he might stop listening to him and trying to connect.

But there was something in the way Radovid insisted - while asking for Jaskier to pick his favorite song and showing a sincere curiosity about listening to what pleased him most - that made Jaskier ultimately choose to risk it.

And, while Radovid was obviously affected by the sound of his voice (to the point where he felt the need to pretend his speechlessness was caused by drunkenness), it was also very clear that he'd been listening.

Not only was his gaze very sharp and his eyes clear and bright while Jaskier was singing - seemingly attempting to analyse every note and word - but, for once, the things Radovid was complimenting him about weren't related to his ability to make people feel and experience things...

For once, what Radovid was claiming made Jaskier so special wasn't the beauty or power of his voice, or how catchy the melodies of the songs he'd sang to him were.

It wasn't even about how Jaskier's lyrics had made him feel.

He'd told Jaskier that what made him so special was his ability to see people for who they really are rather than who they pretend to be.

He'd essentially told him that his ability to truly comprehend those around him was his gift - that he had a unique ability to connect with them at the core... the very thing Jaskier had always felt that he was lacking.

And when Jaskier pushed him for more, all Radovid told him was that he didn't know yet, but was determined to figure it out.

"You connect strongly with others and my desire is to understand and connect with you."

That is what Radovid had taken away from who he was, even after having heard him sing, and Jaskier couldn't help but feel like he'd found a kindred spirit in that human.

Someone stuck in a world and a birth family that simply couldn't understand and accept him as he was - constantly hiding parts of himself to survive.

Radovid had then agreed to help him with the whole situation with Rience - despite the fact that Jaskier hadn't used any song to attempt to suggest he should, just genuinely asked for his help.

And - if that hadn't been enough - that prince had gone one step even further by asking him if Geralt knew how lucky he was to have him, after Jaskier had been singing about his self-worth issues when it came to relationships and his fear of never being good enough - or human enough - for a fellow human (or mutated human) partner.

He'd been listening to him.

He might have been born on land, and he might not have been immune to Jaskier's siren abilities, but Radovid still hadn't lost sight of who he was, nor been tempted to start obsessing about owning him or treating him like a prized possession.

And so, Jaskier tentatively begins to allow himself to hope...

Until Radovid does something truly unexpected that none of his prior human, elven or dwarven suitors or lovers had ever done before...

Learn his song.

Sirens are typically immune to the power that another siren's voices carry... until they fall in love.

One of the ways to know if a fellow merperson is alterously or romantically drawn to you is to sing back one of their own melodies to them, and see how they will respond.

Should they feel that instinctive, near irresistible pull towards the melody, and vice versa, then the two sirens will often start trying to discover and explore different ways they can learn to harmonize and use their voices to complement each other's, and create new shared melodies that will resound through the sea.

And, for the very first time in his life, Jaskier finally understands how people feel when they listen to him sing.

Despite the fact that the "siren's melody" being sung back to him is a human song he wrote, with human lyrics, accompanied by human instruments...

Despite the fact that Radovid himself is most definitely not a siren but very much human - fumbling a bit with Jaskier's lute, visibly nervous, too shy to allow his voice to rise above a whisper...

To Jaskier, it's the most beautifully mesmerizing "siren's melody" he's ever heard in his existence! It's filled with warmth, love, understanding, a promise of unconditional acceptance and safety...

It's absolutely intoxicating, he can barely breathe, feels like he's on the very edge of losing his sanity, and it takes all the power he has to avoid launching himself right at him!

And if a human can make him feel this way singing back to him a song filled with poetry and lyrics - rather than a classic, traditional siren's melody - then maybe there's never been anything wrong with Jaskier or the way he's always preferred to sing!

His people made him feel unwanted, but the sea never did! It probably would have been welcoming to a lute-playing merman singing like a bard, if his people hadn't been such close-minded arses!

Jaskier feels at home on land and has never once regretted his choice, but maybe he still has a right to also be a child of the sea, regardless of him having ultimately chosen a pair of legs over his fins!

And maybe Radovid would love to see parts of his old home some day - even if they can only access the surface of it, rather than go explore everything hidden in the water's depths (unless Yennefer has a spell that would allow Radovid to breathe under water as he does. Because Jaskier would never trust a sea witch with Radovid's life!).

And if Jaskier himself can be mesmerized by Radovid's song and feel like he would let that man lead him anywhere and do whatever he wants with him, without any desire to own and control him; maybe he'd simply been trying to connect with the wrong people.

Radovid is the first person he's ever met that seems to be able to connect with both the human and the siren part of him. And when Jaskier offers to help him work on his lute playing and singing, what he's truly saying is that he wants them to learn to harmonize their voices together and create their own melodies...

It's an intimate need Jaskier still has, and he's finally found himself a mate that appears to fully get him, and be able to fulfil those needs.

Of course, then the whole mess with Cirilla happens, and for a moment there Jaskier loses faith that any of it was ever real!

Who was he kidding!? The Redanian Intelligence kept insisting that they knew everything about everyone! Maybe they'd figured out Jaskier used to be a merman, done their research, noticed that Jaskier "fancied" the prince, and instructed him to surprise him and trick him into lowering his defenses, by courting him the way a fellow merman would!

He really should have known!

But then, when he finds Radovid alone, lost, and hiding, he realizes that Radovid had never meant to trick or hurt him.

Radovid had just been genuinely afraid, and trying to deal with the threat of a looming war as best he could by seeking Ciri's help.

And now, the war he'd attempted preventing from happening had begun, he'd clearly internalized Jaskier's earlier blame, and that spoon of a man was sufficiently bonded to him by now that he might just allow himself to be captured and killed if he doesn't do something about it!

And then, Jaskier himself might end up symbolically 'washing ashore' somewhere and letting himself die of heartbreak, for fuck's sake!

Because merpeople are dramatic as fuck and they feel the loss of friends and family in a way that's devastatingly sharp. Being rejected by a queerplatonic or romantic partner - or having them die on them - is the worst type of injury one could inflict upon them!

When he'd sung about having also survived, no thanks to Geralt, he'd fully meant it! That loss had nearly killed him!

If he wants to survive this, he needs to figure out a way to keep Radovid safe, and then make sure that Geralt and the rest of his family are safe also, because he doesn't know how he'd manage to continue to live in this world if the war ends up taking everything from him in a way where all hope would be lost of ever getting any of them back!

[little-jana]

"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-desilittle-bird]

Hii, I would like to request something for Daemon.

At Rhaenyra wedding he sees reader(targaryen or valeryion), who was away for some time, and he falls in love with her again seeing as in the past they had a fling. He chooses her over Rhaenyra and they get married days later with Viserys approval. They reunite with the family on Driftmark for Leana's funeral, there Rhaenyra gets jealous when she sees Daemon being soft with his childrens and reader. Later she tries to sway Daemon and make him leave his family with the excuses of the Greens being against her but he gets mad and threatens her or something like that.

Thankss

Author's Note- Thanks for the request. It was very interesting writing this one. I made a few changes in the scenes to fit in. Do not fret requesting for more. Requests are always opened and we'll appreciated.

Thank you and Enjoy your reading!

Dancing with Dragons

Daemon Targaryen x Targaryen!Reader

Summary- Things and situations are bound to change as well as hearts...

Tag List- @minaxcarter, @eliseline, @blackhoodlea, @little-moonbeam-666, @neenieweenie, @omgsuperstarg, @avalyaaa, @shopping, @bbgmonsay, @michelle-26, @krokietinio, @hc-geralt-23, @chevelledahuman, @thekayarlene, @narcy, @helloitsshitzulover, @muushwrites, @daringboba, @bi2simps, @issybee0611, @yariany02, @agathe, @5moremin, @candypurplebutterfly, @saraelizabeth26, @moon-light1415, @targaryenmoony, @stargaryenx, @instabul, @shine101

Warnings- Threats, Suggestive Content? Westrosi Things

GIF Credits to @userparamore

Daemon looked around the feast in boredom, trying to find something to keep himself intrigued throughout the night. He could feel two pair of eyes on his figure. One belonging to his beloved niece while the other belonged to Laena Velaryon.

He wished to see a certain familiar face walking through those huge doors. It had been quite too long since he had seen his cousin sister, much to his dismay.

Even though it had been more than a few summers, Daemon still remembered the secret nights spent in each other's embrace. Moans and gasps mixing into groans of pleasure. Her smooth skin layered by beads of sweat. Eyes closed in euphoria, hair messed from tugging

Daemon smirked to himself as he took a sip of the Dornish wine served in the feast. His eyes traveled to the dusky skinned lady sitting on the opposite side of the table.

He stood up, stepping down the stairs and joining the dance. He could feel the movement of the Velaryon girl, turning to find her behind himself.

A conversation ignited and Daemon could feel a few sparks; though he knew it was not of love, but of simple lust towards a woman with a pretty face and pure innocence.

"Lady (Y/N) of Houses Targaryen and Arryn"

The room stilled as the dancing pairs moved out of the way of the late Queen Consort's younger sister strided in gracefully with an authoritative aura following her like the sunflower following the sun.

Her blue gown of expensive silks wrapped around her beautiful body smoothly, accentuating her features and pushing her breasts together to create ample cleavage. The silver thread forming falcons on the skirt of her gown.

Daemon let his eyes follow their way down her attractive figure. His legs moving on their accords as they lead him to her. Their eyes met, bodies only a few inches apart.

"Glad to see you here, Lady (Y/N)," Daemon bend down to place a gentlemanly kiss on the back of her palm. "The pleasure is all mine, Prince Daemon," her voice was music to his ears, making him hum in pleasure.

"Lady (Y/N), it is our pleasure to have you with us here," Viserys stood up with a smile. It was no surprise to anyone that the king was fond of his former good sister. Right from her birth, the Arryn Lady had been close to the king and his rebellious brother.

"It is much too my delight to join you in celebrating the Realm's Delight's marriage, Your Grace," (Y/N) said softly, her eyes kind yet a thin mask of caution remained. It had been quite some times since (Y/N) visited the place.

"Hope you enjoy the feast," the king said kindly, sitting down once again. The dancing resumed but this time, it wasn't Laena dancing in Daemon's arms but his old love. Sly smirks and non-verbal conversations exchanged amid the buzzing laughter of all the noble people.

"It's been long, sister," Daemon whispered in her ear, his hand discreetly grazing the curve of her back. "Indeed, brother," she whispered against the smooth skin of his neck.

A low groan bubbled in Daemon's throat. His hands grabbed her neck, bringing her closer to him as everyone danced around them. He could see the hunger in her eyes, the parting of her lips as a small whine of his name escaped; disappearing into the loud atmosphere as a small breeze on a winter day.

"Say it," he hissed, his eyes resembling a predator's, ready to pounce. "Mazverdagon nyke aōhon," (Make me yours) (Y/N) whispered, making Daemon smirk. One of his hands moved down to tangle around her waist, bringing her closer to him.

"Skorkydoso?" (How?) Daemon asked teasingly, his tongue darted out of his mouth, wetting his lips. "Mazverdagon nyke aōha ābrazȳrys. Tepagon nyke aōha riña, Daemon," (Make me your wife. Give me your child, Daemon) she replied back, her lips way too close to his to deem appropriate.

Daemon smirked, his hands grabbed hers, making his way to his chambers. His eyes darkening with passion. His mind clouded with all the pleasures to come.

The winds were a bit too wild in Driftmark but it was no issue to the huge dragons of the Targaryens of Dragonstone. The red and bronze dragons descended down the skies followed by two more dark dragons. While one was a full grown, coal black, the other was yet not a fully-grown one.

Vermithor growled loudly, making the guards straighten up as the Targaryens of the Red Keep stayed firmly on the ground, watching as the dragon-riders stepped down from their mounts.

Daemon was the first one to step down, walking to Vermithor to help his sister-wife down. A crimson red blanket wrapped around their youngest, a daughter. (Y/N) smiled as Daemon carefully took Daenys from her, cooing at her softly.

Daemon looked up to find his eldest daughter and son walking towards them, head held high as they both smiled at their parents. Visenys looked like her father, carrying his character traits as well while Aelar had took after her mother, while adopting a few things of his father.

"Brother, sister," came the fragile and weak voice of the king. Daemon and his wife turned, a smile on their faces as they moved to greet the rest of the family, their children on their toes. "Your Grace," Daemon and his son bowed while the ladies dipped into a curtsey.

"Look at you both," Viserys chuckled, the side of his eyes crinkling. Daemon moved closer to his brother, letting him look at the little Targaryen, who was no more than three summers old. "She is beautiful," Viserys said with a smile, placing a caressing hand on the baby's head whose was sleeping peacefully in her father's arms.

"Aemma," (Y/N) said, offering her good brother a smile. Viserys felt his eyes fill with tears at the name, as he smiled at the baby. "Alicent," (Y/N) greeted the Queen, who was until now, standing quietly with her kids. The Hightower Queen smiled, "Lady (Y/N)."

The Targaryen Lady found her eyes drifting away to the heir of the throne, Princess Rhaenyra, who stood by Laenor and her kids. While (Y/N) had heard the whispered rumors about the offspring of the princess, she didn't expected it to be true; but to find them gazing at her in reality, (Y/N) now made sense of the rumors.

"Princess Rhaenyra," she said with a smile. "Lady (Y/N)," the Princess replied with gritted teeth, her eyes burning holes at her as she looked at how she had turned Daemon into a soft and dotting father; a stark opposite of the man she knew him to be.

Rhaenyra could feel herself becoming jealous of her aunt. A nagging in the back of her mind as she watched Daemon place a loving kiss on (Y/N)'s forehead as she laughed at something her father had said. Their son and daughter standing beside them with a smile.

A plan formulated in Rhaenyra's mind as she silently watched the small family interacting with the king and her half-siblings. A sly smirk finding its place on her lips as she thought of what she needed to do.

Daemon stood against a dusted table, trying to find something interesting, while Rhaenyra spoke about something he didn't care about. He discreetly looked at her and thought of possible reasons as to why he was attracted to her at the first place.

Perhaps it was his want for the throne which made him crave her, or perhaps it was his somewhat rebellious nature which matched Daemon's. Or just frustration towards his brother.

"Are you listening to what I speak of, uncle?" Rhaenyra asked, sighing as she watched Daemon look up with raised eyebrows and bored look. "The Greens are against me and my children. Alicent and Otto will do anything under the sun to harm us. We need you. I need you."

Daemon scowled, glaring at his niece as she moved to caress Daemon's cheek with her hand. "Please, Daemon. I want you," Rhaenyra whispered, her lips near his neck. "Step aside," Daemon pushed Rhaenyra back softly. "I must warn you beforehand, Rhaenyra, if you dare come near me again, or attempt to get closer to me; I will have Caraxes eat you right in front of that lover of yours."

Letting the threat hang in the air, Daemon turned and went straight towards his wife who stood conversing with Rhaenys. "My love," he kissed her cheek from behind, letting his hand wrap around her waist. "Daemon," (Y/N) smiled, leaning into him.

"I will leave you two alone," Rhaenys said, excusing herself from the couple who gazed lovingly at their kids. "Visenys looks happy here," Daemon commented. Visenys was busy doing something in sand with Aemond, giggling like a child she is.

"They look happy," (Y/N) commented, looking at Daemon who frowned at her words. "He can have her after... 60 summers? Yes," Daemon grumbled, making (Y/N).

(Y/N) leaned into Daemon's chest, smiling dreamily as she looked at her happy family.

[xzaddyzanakinx]

Stake to the Heart

Geralt of Rivia/The Witcher x female reader

Oneshot

18+ MDNI

Warnings: Aggression/violence, demeaning behavior, derogatory terms, BLOOD, sexual content, possessive behavior, hate fuck to confused fuck to hey I think I might die without you fuck

Info: This NOT Netflix Geralt, this is my husband video game Geralt. He’s totally an ass most of the time (but when he’s not he’s really sweet)

The one where you let Geralt stay in your guest room while he’s in town searching for a blood thirsty vampire. (Uh oh it’s actually you)

“Are you alright? Find anything?” You asked, trying to sound interested and definitely not nervous.

Geralt closed the door behind him, his eyes narrowed in anger as he glared at you. "You know damn well I found something," he growled, throwing his coat onto the couch.

"Come here," he snapped, storming towards you. Before you could react, he grabbed you by the collar of your top and slammed you against the wall, pinning you there with his weight.

“Sh-shit.” You gasped with a trembling voice as your back hit the wall, the air being forced from your lungs, eyes wide with fear.

You expected for him to kill you, drive a stake through your heart and end it right here. But the pain never came; instead of death, he offered you something you wouldn’t have believed if it weren’t for you actively living through it. His mouth hot and warm and desperate for contact with yours. His tongue grazing over your fangs making him moan.

You were so confused… but much too turned on to question what was happening. The way his rough hands and strong arms held you effortlessly aloft; pressing your body in a crushing embrace against the stone wall behind you. Paired with the surprising tenderness of his unexpectedly soft and plump lips against yours. It was almost too much, yet not nearly enough. So you did the only reasonable thing to do in this situation: surrender.

Geralt's hands roamed the expanse of your body, tearing at your clothes as he deepened the kiss. His tongue tangled with yours in a primal dance, the taste of him was mind numbingly addictive; mead and tobacco mixed something oddly sweet. His hips ground against you, pressing his rock hard erection into the softness of your lower belly.

"Mine," he growled between heavy breaths, his voice thick with a lust that was almost tangible. "All mine."

“Oh fuck.” You whimpered, feeling a rush of slick flooding your panties at his words.

“Yeah, yes I’m yours.” You agreed the minute your brain registered the meaning behind his words. You nodded eagerly, gasping as he sucked on the soft skin of your neck.

His teeth grazed the fleshy juncture of your neck and shoulder, leaving a trail of small marks in his wake. His hand moved from its supporting position under your ass to cup your breast roughly through the fabric of your bra.

"You taste so fucking good," he groaned, biting down harder now that he’d reached less tender flesh.

You helped get rid of the pesky little barrier between his palm and your hardened nipple, arching your back to reach behind you and unclasp your bra. Exposing your soft breasts and pebbled nipples to his hungry gaze.

"Christ... you're perfect." His normally gruff voice was softer, lulling you into a sensual comfort that you’d never felt before.

His golden eyes glowed brightly from the flames of the firelight, making his already intense stare seem hypnotic. With a grunt of finality he hoisted you over his shoulder and smacked your ass for good measure as he swiftly toted you toward the bedroom.

With a surprising gentleness his calloused hands lowered you to the mattress, his eyes never leaving yours as he stripped himself of his armor. Growling in frustration as he cursed the damned thing for having so many buckles. Tossing the thick leather to the floor he wasted no time in tearing his under clothes off as well before joining you in the rumpled sheets.

All you could do was moan in response, he’d stolen away your ability to speak coherently after you caught sight of his sculpted and scarred abdomen. He smirked down at you with a prideful glint in his eyes, he may be outwardly humble in many ways, but he wasn’t unaware of how attractive he was; that much was clear.

“I-I don’t understand.” You whined, watching him crawl up between your legs. “I thought you’d hate me… Kill me… when you found out.”

He laughed, a true bellowing laugh straight from his chest as if you’d said the most ridiculous thing he’d ever heard. A devilish grin spread across his lips while he hooked a thick finger into the waistband of your panties and pulled them down gently.

“Hate you? Not fucking likely," Geralt chuckled, his voice thick with lust. "You're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen, so sweet and soft… kind."

The way the words fell from his mouth was… different from anything else you’d heard leave his lips. Though he kept his natural gravely and gruffness to his voice, somehow whether intentional or not, he added an undeniable layer of adoration in the sincerity of his words.

With your panties removed he took your legs into his hands, his fingers nearly touching as they wrapped around the meaty part of your calves, just under the crook of your knees. With a steadying breath he slowly pried your legs apart to look down at your glistening and swollen folds.

You’d never seen him look so weak, so oddly vulnerable. The black of his eyes overtook the golden halo around them, dilating with lustful need. His breathing visibly changed as his grip on your calves tightened.

“Never… never have I seen something so perfect.” He whispered, his eyes roaming your nakedness as if he hoped to memorize each mole, each freckle, even imperfections you thought you had; he coveted as heaven-sent.

His finger tips tickled along the inside of your thigh, your face flushed with the heat of need and alittle bit of embarrassment from how he seemed to worship every inch of you all the way down to your very soul. He stopped momentarily at the apex of your thighs, his palm flattening over your mound as the pad of his thumb tentatively brushed against your slick coated clit.

The noise that bubbled up from his throat at this tiny bit of contact was inhuman, the primal part of his brain begging him to hurry the hell up and fuck you dumb. Though his heart, large and yearning for love quieted those thoughts.

“Let me touch you… please?” His voice cracking under the weight of the tension between you.

“P-please yes.” You whimpered.

“Thank the gods.” He moaned, salivating as he slipped one thick digit between your folds and sunk it deep into your hot, wet cunt.

“Oh…” He trailed off, eyes closing in ecstasy at the realization of just how wet you truly were.

Slowly pumping his finger, massaging circles with his finger tip against the spongy spot deep within in you, making you squirm. Soon enough he slipped a second digit into your pulsing hole, eliciting a gasp from the sudden shock of his fingers stretching you.

“Too much?” He asked, soothing you with his warm palm coming to rest on your hip.

“No. No it’s okay.” You moaned, “just… I need you, I need more.”

“Patience.” He mumbled, knowing you needed this before he would even consider fu- no, making love to you.

He laid flat on the bed between your thighs, putting a pillow under your ass for easier access. He continued his slow stretch with his fingers scissoring in and out with each thrust of his hand.

Bringing his mouth down to taste you after taking a moment to truly enjoy the sight of your swollen cunt swallowing up his fingers. His tongue darted out with the intention to circle your clit but the second he made contact with the warm and smooth flesh he stopped.

“Goddamnit.” He groaned low, his voice unintentionally rasped beyond its usual growl.

He inserted a third finger and stretched you even further, soothing you with his large hand traveling lazily across your breasts. Returning his mouth to your clit to devour you with the fervor of a depraved beast. It was as if the taste of you had set him on fire.

“Fuck… I- you just taste so damn good.” He spoke softly from between your thighs, sucking and nipping at the sensitive skin of your inner thigh.

“I can’t wait.” He admitted sheepishly. “I mean… I can if y-you need more that’s not what I meant it’s just-“

You cut off his sudden nervous rambling by squishing his cheeks together to get his attention. A wide grin spread across your lips.

“W-what?” He asked in surprise.

“You’re cute when you’re flustered.” You teased, watching his neck get red with embarrassment.

“Shut up. I’m not- nevermind.” He grunted, slowly removing his fingers from your drenched hole.

Moving to kneel in front of your spread legs, slipping off his boxers to reach down and wrap his hand around his massive cock, squeezing the base and rocking his hips forward, fucking his hand. He was truly a sight to behold. This brute of a man, acting this way, it was… strangely angelic.

He rubbed his swollen cockhead around your wet entrance groaning at the feeling of warmth from your pussy.

"I want to fucking own you, claim you as mine forever." His eyes bore into yours, filled with an intensity that made you think he truly meant it.

“You c-,” He cut himself off with a loud moan as he slowly inched his way into your tight cunt.

"Tell me you're mine, that you’ll belong to me… th-that you’ll promise me something," he growled, his hand gripping your hair roughly, forcing your head back so he could stare into your wide-eyed gaze.

“Yes, yes I- I’ll be yours, I’m yours.” You nodded vigorously, desperately clawing at his back as your legs wrapped around him.

Geralt groaned in satisfaction as he fully penetrated you, his large member buried to the hilt in your needy pussy.

"Good girl," he murmured, his hips rocking back and forth slowly at first, allowing both of you to adjust to the new sensations.

"Say it again." His voice was low, husky with lust.

“I-I belong to you Geralt. Only you.” You whimpered, hardly able to speak from how overwhelmed by the feeling of being stretched by his thick cock you were.

Geralt picked up the pace, pounding into you harder and faster. Each thrust sent waves of pleasure coursing through you both, bodies slapping against each other in a primal rhythm. His hand reached down to grope your breasts roughly, pinching and twisting the nipples until they hardened for him.

"That's it," he growled, his hips pistoning deeper. "Now promise me you’ll never fed from someone else again."

“B-but Geralt.” You started to protest.

“Promise me.” He said sternly one hand shooting up to firmly grip your neck. “swear you’ll never do that again.”

“But I c-can’t!” You said frantically.

“You can and you will.” He tightened his grip on your neck and your ass with his other hand as he fucked you mercilessly. “you’ll feed off me and me alone. Everyday if you have too.”

Geralt's eyes flashed with a primal possession as he continued to thrust into you, claiming you body and soul.

"I don't fucking care if you have to hold me down and drain me till I bleed out," he growled, his voice deep and commanding. "You belong to me now, and you’ll only feed from me."

In response, you moaned in agreement, nails scratched down his back, leaving red lines in their wake. He could feel your pussy rhythmically pulsing, knowing your orgasm was building rapidly.

“Do you understand me?” He growled aggressively shaking you by the neck.

“Y-yes… yes I understand I promise. I promise.” You nodded, gasping for breath as you clamped down on his cock and came hard around him. Screaming out his name as you flooded his cock with squirt.

You couldn’t help yourself, it was all so much, so overwhelming, You were still so confused and still so terribly hungry. So you bit him. Sinking your sharp fangs into his neck as your orgasm peaked and began to slow. Starting to lap up his blood like an animal starved.

“So fucking good.” You whined, licking your lips and moaning as he kept fucking into you.

Geralt roared in ecstasy, his cock throbbing inside her as you bit into him. Blood rushed down your throat, helping to quench the insatiable thirst that had brought him to this fucking village in the first place.

"Fuck... yes." He growled, his hips pumping faster, harder. "Drink from me, you fucking whore." His words were laced with lust and self-aimed disgust; mixed together in a toxic brew.

He reached his own climax shortly after, filling you up completely with his seed, marking your spent body as his own. Breathing heavily, he leaned over you, sweaty bodies sticking together.

"You're mine now," he panted, his eyes glazed over with satisfaction.

You nodded, lips and fangs still attached to his neck, hungrily drinking down his warm blood.

“Best I’ve ever tasted.” You moaned, cunt contracting around his cock that stayed slowly, softly fucking into your cum filled cunt.

“Sweet… rich. Like- like chocolate.” He smiled at your whining, moaning mess as you lapped and sucked at the puncture wounds.

Geralt's heart raced wildly as he watched you drink from him, a perverse pleasure washed over him. He shouldn’t like this, he shouldn’t do this, he should stop you, he had duties to uphold and right now? Right now he was failing miserably. Despite know how badly this could end, how horribly this situation could escalate; he couldn’t… wouldn’t, let you stop now.

"More," he groaned, his voice strained with need. "Give me more."

You nodded, detaching from his neck and making him sit up against the head board.

You slowly sunk back down on his half hard cock. Licking away the stray drops of blood running down his chest.

“Tell me when I need to stop.” You said sternly. “don’t let me hurt you okay?”

You kissed down his throat, sinking your fangs into the opposite side of his neck and rocking your hips on his cock.

Geralt's chest rose and fell rapidly as he tried to catch his breath. "Gods above... you're- oh ohhh," he managed between panting breaths. "Keep going, don't stop."

His hand reached down to cup your ass again, squeezing firmly before roughly slapping it. "I want more of this... all night if you can handle it."

“Fuck.” You groaned, detaching from his neck.

“I’ll ride you all night if that’s what you want.” You said, devouring his lips in a bloody kiss. “but I can’t keep drinking from you much longer.”

He whined and gripped your hips in protest. A real, throaty whine; you didn’t even realize he was capable of making such a sound. If you weren’t so drunk off the power of making him so weak for you… you might’ve died right then and there.

“I can’t, I’ll hurt you.” You tried to reason with him. “you’ll have to tell me when to stop, when you start getting light-headed.”

Geralt's eyes fluttered shut as your tongues tangled, their bodies moving in sync once more. "I can handle it," he growled, his voice deep and husky with desire. "Just... keep going."

He wrapped his arms around your waist, holding on tightly as you rode him, his fingers digging into the meat of your shoulders possessively.

You doubled down snd rode him hard and fast, his grip would definitely cause bruises but you didn’t care. Never in all your years had you been with a man this eager to let you feed. It was intoxicating, watching him love every second, it made it all even sweeter.

You licked the thin trickles of blood from the newer bite mark before tilting his head back harshly and tightly gripping his hair in your fist. Cocking your head to the side you dragged your tongue across his throat before sinking your fangs back into his skin, right over his Adam’s apple.

This bite would make the blood drain faster, make him lightheaded quicker, it was messier but you got the feeling that he might like it that way.

You clenched down around his cock and your legs shook as he moaned loudly. The vibration of the noise could be felt through your fangs, reverberating in that tiny animalistic corner of your brain. Triggering you to cum violently on his cock, fangs digging deeper accidentally.

He groaned, his voice hoarse with desire. "Don't stop."

He arched his back, thrusting harder into your tight hole, his orgasm nearing its peak.You moaned in agreement with him, pulling his hair tighter and keeping his head tilted back. Your other hand with an iron grip on his shoulder as you rode him violently, as hard and fast as you could handle. Even then he was still thrusting up into you, his hands roaming my back and ass.

Geralt's cock twitched deep inside your tight channel, spurting hot cum to paint your inner walls white. He groaned deeply, his entire body shaking with the intensity of his orgasm. His hold on you loosened slightly, allowing you to collapse onto him, breathing heavily. Your sweaty bodies were intertwined, covered in a mess of blood and cum.

After several long minutes of heavy breathing, Geralt finally managed to speak, his voice raspy from exertion. "That... was fucking amazing."

You licked and kissed away the remaining trickles of blood, circling your hips slowly on his softening cock.

“You okay? Do you need anything?” You asked in concern, blood dripping from your lips and chin as you made him look up. Gently using your thumb to pull underneath his eye so you could check to see if his iron level was too low after having drank so much from him.

Geralt's eyes fluttered open, his vision still a little blurry. "I'm fine," he panted, reaching down to stroke your hair affectionately. "Just... give me a minute."

He sat back against the headboard, catching his breath as she continued to move on him slowly. You slowly raised off his lap, stepping down from the bed and giving him a gentle kiss on the forehead.

“Stay right here, I’m gonna go get you something to drink and something sweet to eat.” You cooed in a soft voice.

“Please don’t pass out.” You added; half joking-half serious.

Geralt chuckled softly, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he tried to regain his composure. "I won't," he assured you, watching you walk out of the room with an expression of pure bewilderment etched on his features.

He should feel bad about this. About disrespecting his fellow Witchers and breaking the code, he was quite literally ‘laying with the enemy’ as that old saying goes. Though he didn’t.

‘Cause you were an ethical vampire, right? He’d noticed the pattern of victims, slimy criminals, horrible husbands and fathers. The world would be better off without them anyway, and it’s not like you were going nuts like a cat in a bird cage, you seemed like you had self control, he reasoned.

Not every monster is just… a monster, right?

Maybe he was just light headed. Maybe this was all a fever dream or a trip from an accidental mushroom mixup. Or maybe he was just loosing his fucking mind, but at this point he was more than willing to be certifiably insane if it meant having more of you.

TagList:

@wickedtactics @tsugumiholic @kingdomhate

@burnthecheshirewitch@cherrylooney@star611

@tahliac11 @exquisit?corpse @jeldog @arzua10

@bby-imasociopath @depressed-kay

@aliciaasky@naty-1001 @mrsmikaelsxn

@illiethefairy @slut-4-ani @offthethirlwall

@slutforhayden @ausskywalker @angelsadmired

@slut4starwarssmut @chocolatepalacecloudhoagie

@starkiller419 @hearts4mitski4 @no1klet @lethargic

@allhailbuckybarnes @shadowhuntyi

@bobtheturmpetman29 @mortalheartache

@fallinlovewithevil@sythethecarrot

@joshfutturmansrighthand @chaoticantihero

@vadersslut @luvvfromme

Let me know if you want to be on this tag list or nah! I love you all so many xoxo (my feelings will not be hurt if you don’t wanna get tagged for non-Anakin content)

[annmarcus63]

“If life could give me a blessing, it’d be to take you off my hands”

The wind whips around them and Jaskier fears it will be strong enough to carry away the pieces of his broken heart. But instead of succumbing to shock and sadness, fury and indignation helps him to finally confront the witcher. 

"Oh, no, witcher, you're not doing this." the bard stomps all the way down to meet the other's tense back. "What, since you can't keep the witch, now you don't want me either? Well, guess what, witcher, I'm not a dog you can kick whenever you feel like it.” He shouts at him and in the last sentence, with both hands, he pushes Geralt's shoulders, who, of course, does not move an inch.

"Go away, bard." Jaskier is laughing his head off, he thinks he looks crazy, but couldn't care less. 

"Oh, oh, oh, oh, no, not this again. Do you really think you can erase all our history by giving me an impersonal title" What bothers him most is Geralt's passive face, when seconds ago it was full of what Jaskier might call hatred.

"Go away, Jaskier."

"No," he replies, closing the gap between them, another step back and they would both fall over the edge. Finally the mask of calm falls from the witcher's face, Geralt grunts visibly annoyed and walks past Jaskier, up the hill. 

“Why can't you ever do what you are told?!” he says as he turns to look at him. Jaskier stops in his tracks. True, he rarely does what he's told to do knowing that there are always better options. Like when Geralt was trying to chase him away in the early years. Jaskier did the right thing, he decided to stay. 

"I am not a child, Geralt. I know exactly what's good for me, and that's not it.”

"Then you're an idiot. What's in my best interest is to get as far away from you as possible." Jaskier whimpers reluctantly, he might as well have run him through with his sword and thrown his body off the cliff. He can't help but feel like something insignificant, not worth holding on to even in hard times.

Geralt is on his way up again when Jaskier calls out to him. 

“Then, I gather it was in your best interest to let me kiss you, right, Geralt?” It's rare to take the witcher by surprise, much more so when it's Jaskier, but this time Geralt had to pause to take a breath and process the words, just as he would before confronting a monster "All those kisses I gave you at night, or holding hands for even a few minutes, were in your best interest, I suppose.” Jaskier adjusts his hair, not caring that the wind would ruffle it in a matter of seconds. The sun slowly dips below the mountains on the horizon, inking the sky a deep purple color that unfortunately reminds him of the witch who started this. Confident and resolute, he climbs up to face Geralt with the courage of a stupid rabbit in front of a wolf's mouth. "It's funny because I thought, silly old me, that they were about more than convenience, I even thought you enjoyed them." Geralt's lip lifts in an attempted snarl, and the truth was that all of Jaskier's instincts were telling him that he should flee, not because he was afraid of the witcher, but because it is the cunning thing to do.

"You thought wrong." 

“Oh? Did I?” The bard mockingly interpellates him. Suddenly Geralt sprints to get away from him, it would be funny except that the bard's blood is boiling with anger and adrenaline, which prompts him to do something idiotic. In a flurry of limbs, Jaskier throws himself at the witcher, wrapping his arms around him to hold him in place, Geralt doesn't fight it because he knows he could hurt him. Jaskier seizes the moment to take his face in his hands and bring him close, their noses meeting with a certain rudeness. "You were mine. For fleeting moments, you were. But I am yours, my dear, don't you see?" Jaskier does what he thinks is necessary, kisses him on the corner of his mouth, but Geralt turns to meet his lips.

Fic here

[fangirleaconmigo]

In your expert opinion, do you think there’s any deeper reading to interpret from Geralt’s rebound with Essi, and traits she shares with Dandelion? (I know it wasn’t authorial intention in the least, but when he kissed her within 10 minutes of meeting, I got a “she’s a lot like Dandelion, surely she’s safe to embarrass myself with” vibe).

Hi Nonny!

Essi and Dandelion, Poets and Parallels, Ballads and Broken Hearts

Thank you for the ask! I'm on my lunch break from work, but I'm so happy to be answering Witcher book questions again that I'm sneaking off to do this.

Essi is such an interesting character, right? On one hand, she seems to be treated as the 'anti-Yen" by the narrative and the thing that Geralt 'should' want, thereby reinforcing his love for Yen when he *doesn't* fall in love with Essi.

But then there are all the curious parallels and similarities with Dandelion, which also makes it fun to analyze in that way. The list of similarities is long: their profession, personality, looks, their level of talent, and my favorite, their readiness to throw hands on behalf of Geralt of Rivia. And then there is The Ballad.

Ok. I'm going to set authorial intent aside for the moment, because writers write things all the time they don't intend to write. And I think any artist worth their salt should be thrilled that their work is layered and interesting enough to inspire differing interpretations.

That being said, let's get to the fun part.

SPOILERS SPOILERS FOR ESSI'S STORY PLS DON'T READ IF YOU DON'T WANT TO BE SPOILED.

Profession, personality

Let's look at Essi's introduction! She enters the scene acting just like Dandelion. Both poets are mercilessly insulting one another in their fake-genteel way. (Lots of shade, as well as out and out insults)

Geralt is taken aback, thinking they are fighting, but then they fall on one another embracing and he's like...oh lordt. There's two of them.

"The Witcher was taken aback, but not too greatly. A professional colleague of Dandelion's could not, indeed, differ much from him in terms of predictability."

--Sword of Destiny pg 195

So we have profession, and personality being very similar. Bards with sharp tongues and ready emotions. Then we have looks!

Looks.

I've done a post on Dandelion's looks here. And Essi is similar! Blonde hair, blue eyes, and beautiful. Same same. Sorry, her eyes are a dark blue whereas Dandelion's are cornflower. Much different so contrast.

Level of talent.

They are both beloved and famous. When Ciri is studying at Nenneke's temple, she has access to both of their books of poetry.

[Ciri] read The Adversities of Loving and Time of the Moon, collections of poems by the famous troubadour Dandelion. She shed tears over the ballads of Essi Daven, subtle, infused with mystery, and collected in a small, beautifully bound volume entitled The Blue Pearl. --Blood of Elves pg 298

And Geralt adores both of their voices. When Essi and Dandelion are singing together, Geralt thinks to himself that they have the most beautiful voices that he has ever heard.

They Stay Ready to Throw Hands for Geralt of Rivia.

The text even classifies Essi and Dandelion together on this. And as I said, it's my favorite part of her character, and not just because I love Geralt. It shows her strength, her strong sense of self, her courage, and her values.

First, she, much in the way that Dandelion does, uses her fame, connections, and higher social standing to protect Geralt. And she throws Dandelion into the mix for good measure to strengthen her threats. So when Duke Agloval threatens to drive Geralt to the border with a whip. Essi reponds.

"...please dont threaten Geralt. It so happens that Dandelion and I have several friends...King Ethain of Cidaris...always says that our ballads aren't just lively music and rhymes, but a way of spreading news...Do you wish, your Grace, to be written into the chronicle of human kind? I can arrange it?" --Sword of Destiny pg 212

And when Geralt turns down Agloval's 'offer' of permanent work killing sea creatures in a permanent war with them, (keeping in mind that the noble has stiffed Geralt twice on payment so far) Agloval invokes Geralt's poverty in a demeaning way.

"Oh how proud," Agloval smiled. "How haughty. You reject offers in a way some kings wouldn't be ashamed of. You give up decent money with the air of a wealthy man after a lavish dinner. Geralt? Did you have lunch today? No? And tomorrow? And the day after? I see little chance, Witcher, very little..."

It is so infuriating. Agloval is saying...who the fuck do you think you are? Someone important? Someone with status?? Someone who is allowed to decide his own ethics for himself?

This is a constant theme. The...know your place. Stop trying to think for yourself. Ethics look stupid on you, because you aren't 'real' enough of a human being to have them. So it is super satisfying when Essi lets loose on him.

"How dare you!" Little Eye cried shrilly. "How dare you speak like that to him Agloval!...How can you be so base?"...

Geralt tries to stop her. He sees little point.

"Stop it Essi," Geralt said. "Stop, Essi, there's no point." "Not true," she said angrily. "These is a point. Someone has to tell it straight to this self-appointed duke....who now thinks he has the right to insult other people."

And she isn't done.

"Yes, Agloval, " Essi continued, clenching her shaking hands into fists. "The opportunity to insult other people amuses and pleases you. You delight in the contempt you can show the Witcher...you should know that the Witcher mocks your attempts and slights., that they do not make the faintest impression on him..."

Then we bring Dandelion back in. Because guess who also feels anger and revulsion when Geralt is treated so contemptuously? Let Essi say it...

"The Witcher doesn't feel what Dandelion and I feel, and we feel revulsion."

Sword of Destiny pg 237

That's like...not even half of her unloading on this guy. She is like...you are worth less than Geralt, so jot that down.

Now..

The Ballad

Here is why the ballad matters to me. I think that perhaps even more interesting than how Geralt responds to Essi (interesting though it is) is how Dandelion responds to Essi. Why does he think someone who is almost exactly like him is perfect for Geralt? I mean, he sees himself in her so much that he thinks of her as his sister.

He loves her more than Geralt does I think that is clear. Geralt cares deeply about her. But to Dandelion, she is like his family.

He is put in a shitty position of seeing her distraught and anguished about her feelings for Geralt and Geralt afraid of leading her on or hurting her. Geralt and Essi go back and forth, making it insufferable for Dandelion as a third wheel.

I talked about it here here and here.

Dandelion's response is the subject of controversy in fandom, and there are many valid and differing reader responses. But it seems clear that Dandelion has come to terms with the fact that Geralt and Essi will not be together in love, despite his advice to Geralt. So he suggests they just fuck to get it out of their systems and then everything will be ok. (that's his solution to most things)

So, if he is at ease with that, why the ballad? At the end of the story, Dandelion composes a ballad while Essi and Geralt sleep.

Dandelion, staring into the dying embers, sat much longer, alone, quietly strumming his lute. It began with a few bars, from which an elegant, soothing melody emerged. The lyric suited the melody, and came into being simultaneously with it, the words blending into the music, becoming set in it like insects in translucent, golden lumps of amber. The ballad told of a certain witcher and a certain poet. About how the witcher and the poet met on the seashore, among the crying of seagulls, and how they fell in love at first sight. About how beautiful and powerful was their love. About how nothing - not even death - was able to destroy that love and part them.

Sword of Destiny pg 246

Why this romantic song?? About a witcher and poet?

Yes, it could be just for the ballad, for a successful song. The text talks about the real story not being a good one for a ballad.

But there is so much emotion and magic in that scene. What is he thinking? What is he feeling?

Of course you know about what happens next, Essi's heartbreaking end, and Dandelion's crushing grief. She dies of smallpox during an epidemic. Dandelion is there. Did he go as soon as he heard? Was he visiting her expecting some lovely evenings singing around a fire and found her dead?

However it happened, Dandelion does not leave her to die alone. He does not turn tail and leave, avoiding smallpox. He literally carries the cold dead corpse of this woman he loves, who he sees as his sister, in his arms...

...Dandelion had carried her out in his arms between corpses being cremated on funeral pyres and had buried her far from the city, in the forest, alone and peaceful...

He buries her alone with his own hands! Oh how his heart must have shattered. It is moments like that, that you see the deeper, kinder, even (dare I say) noble side of the vain, braggadocios, whorish bard.

It goes on to say that Dandelion could have changed the song at any point to be a true version (the one where Essi dies), but he never did.

No, Dandelion stuck with his first version. And he never sang it. Never. To no one. Sword of Destiny p 246

Yeah.

To me there is a story about a young girl who cares enough for ten people, who has a huge heart, and a deep soul. A fearless girl who feels things too big for her to handle for a man others call a monster. A girl whose voice is like an angel.

And then there is a story about a broken hearted poet who loved her (far more than Geralt did) and who wrote a song about a witcher and a poet and he never changed the words and never sang it to anyone.

And I wonder if he wasn't writing that ballad about a witcher and a different poet entirely.

*sob*

[bigfan-fanfic]

Quiet on the Path (Male!Witcher x Jaskier)

Hello! can i request a jaskier x witcher male reader?

tw injury mention

"Is he... going to keep following us?"

The bard had dared to hope that Geralt was an outlier when it came to general chattiness among witchers, but apparently he was among the more talky of the breed.

Being nearly speared through the gut by the branches of a leshen had not improved Geralt's dour demeanor. Luckily Geralt was aware they were skirting the general territory of another witcher.

He had not spoken a single word, this other witcher. At first Jaskier assumed they spoke in magic ways, but soon realized the signs they used were not the typical Witcher signs.

Jaskier had found himself thrown bodily from the little cabin this witcher had resided in while he healed Geralt with concoctions and herbal remedies.

Jaskier never thought he'd miss Geralt's gruff and blunt stoicism, but it was better than completely being stonewalled.

In any case, they had left when Geralt was well enough to travel, although he had spotted the silent witcher following them.

"He's an old nanny goat, worse than Vesemir." Geralt rolled his eyes. "He didn't think I was better enough to ride yet. He'll follow us for another fortnight, at least."

"First off, only you could try and make such a giant of a man seem less intimidating by calling him a nanny goat. Second, how in the living hell did you get all that? He hasn't said a word since we arrived!"

Geralt's face bordered on disappointment, and Jaskier felt an unfamiliar twinge of shame. "I thought a bard would be the first to know that words are only one way to communicate ideas."

That week is the most frustrating of Jaskier's life. There are no words spoken, but the conversation, for once, is one that the bard cannot follow. Geralt and his silent companion move their hands almost too quickly to be seen, clearly using a language of signs that Jaskier cannot hope to decipher.

Geralt is more animated than ever, laughing his deep raspy laugh and leaning back in contentment, and Jaskier practically growls at not having the secret of how to get Geralt in this mood revealed to him.

He keeps attempting to catch the silent witcher off guard, to trick him into speaking. He knows he's not deaf, because there was a smirk when he asked a whispered question to Geralt, asking if this witcher was one of his brothers.

But nothing happens, not until Geralt has gone off hunting, and the silent one is left alone with Jaskier as they make camp.

Jaskier can barely abide silence, so he talks as much as he can. He asks questions but doesn't even leave space for answers.

To be honest, it sounds almost as if he's on the verge of a panic attack by the time the witcher's massive hand clamps over his mouth, stifling the flow of words.

"Are you done?" the witcher smirks, and Jaskier shudders at the sound of the voice.

He nods, unable to get any words out.

"I tend not to speak. I use my hands instead. But your... interest. It is... intriguing."

When Geralt returns to camp after the hunt, he's not entirely surprised to find Jaskier pinned down flat as the witcher kisses him.

"Well, that's one way to shut him up." Geralt laughs. The witcher sits up, still straddling Jaskier, placing a hand back over the bard's mouth despite a protest.

I like him. I'm keeping him. he signed.

Geralt only chuckled.

[biscuitbox23]

The Stag and the Warbler

Pairing: Jaskier/Dandelion x Witcher!Reader.

Summary: The bard has written a song about you. And it has given you a lot to think about.

Author's note: It's a late night thought I've had for a while. Jaskier has always been my favorite character in both the Witcher games, books and the tv show. I wanted to give him a bit of honor by writing this :) —also a little Skyrim reference cuz im not creative in song writing.

Warning: platonic love, fluff, kind of a bittersweet ending.

As Jaskier strummed the strings of his lute, he hummed the tune of a popular ballad. "Our hero, our hero, claims a warrior's heart…" he sang but then paused mid-verse, his forehead creasing in concentration. "I tell you, I tell you, the Witcher comes- no, that does not sound so good," he muttered.

You couldn't help but chuckle at him. You busied yourself with grooming your loyal steed, Melorax. The horse stood still, contentedly munching on bits of hay. While you brushed off dust and dirt from his coat, you could see the tiny frown written on Jaskier's face as he tried to come up with a better verse for his song.

Curious, you asked him, "Who is this hero exactly?"

Jaskier looked up, glad for the distraction. "Ah, well," he said, his fingers stilling on the lute. "It's just a tale, my friend. A story of a brave warrior who fights for justice and honor."

You nodded, understanding the stories that Jaskier shared with you during your travels as a Witcher. Tales like these were always inspiring and entertaining. Jaskier had been your companion for quite a while now, and you had grown fond of his musical talents and witty banter. He would often compare your kinder nature to his friend Geralt, who hailed from a different Witcher school whom you had heard of but never met. After grooming Melorax, you approached the front of the horse and kissed his soft muzzle. The horse whinnied softly, and you smiled at him, feeling content.

"You know I just hunt monsters for coin," you recall, sitting near him as you started the small bonfire.

"Well, yes. But, Y/n of Verden makes a good song subject. Don't you think?" Jaskier smiled widely at you as you put your hands near the fire for warmth. His fingers began strumming on his lute, calmly humming with the tune of his renowned instrument.

You began to listen closely. "With a silver sword gleaming and signs so fierce and cold…" Jaskier sang, "Believe, believe, the Stag of Verden has told."

"Stag?" You asked sheepishly, looking over at him with an expression of confusion.

"Umm… do you prefer to be called deer?" Jaskier asked sheepishly.

"Just confused with the Stag part…" you replied.

"Well, you remind me of a stag."

"How so?" You asked.

"Well, you're strong, very resilient, and almost similar to that of a protector of the realm," Jaskier beamed with poetic pride.

Upon hearing those words, a sense of pride and appreciation washed over you. It was rare for a Witcher to receive such positive recognition, as they are empty vessels of beings whose sole purpose was to slaughter monsters and collect payment. Being regarded as a hero was a new and unexpected experience for you. However, it was evident that most people still saw you as an exterminator who only existed to rid the world of dangerous pests rather than a true hero. All you let out was a slight chuckle.

Jaskier turned his head towards you, and his eyes met yours. He noticed the corners of your mouth curling up, and your eyes sparkled. Curious, he leaned slightly to his right and tilted his head, trying to catch a glimpse of what had caused this reaction in you. "What's so funny, Y/n?" he asked, his voice full of genuine interest and amusement.

"Oh, nothing," you jested. With a look of concern on the bard's face, he turned his gaze back towards his musical instrument, the loot. He asked in a questioning tone, "Is there something wrong with my song? Don't you like it?"

"I assure you that I like it," you said to the worried songwriter before returning to warm your hands by the fire. "Please continue."

Jaskier's face lit up with joy as he responded, "As you wish." He meticulously plucked the strings of his lute, producing a melody that seemed to flow effortlessly from his fingers. His body swayed with the rhythm, and it was clear from his performance that he was a true virtuoso of his craft.

"In the heart of the woodlands, where shadows dance and play Beware, beware, the Stag is on her way For monsters she'll conquer, with every foe she'll slay

You'll know, you'll know, the Stag brings light to the gray."

You were captivated as the bard plucked at the strings of his lute, his voice soft and sweet as honey. The music wrapped around you like a warm embrace, easing the tension in your body and calming your mind. The bard's songs were beautiful masterpieces of melody and meaning. What impressed you the most was how his music seemed to capture the essence of the world around you, bringing to life the sights and sounds of your travels in a way that words alone never could. Being a Witcher often meant living a life of solitude and danger. It made you feel isolated and alone. But having the bard by your side changed everything. His easy conversation and quick wit were a constant source of comfort and amusement, and you eagerly looked forward to every new adventure with him by your side.

By the end, you knew you could never repay the bard for all he had given you, but you were grateful nonetheless.

"You know one thing," you thought to him, "you remind me of a Warbler."

The bard chuckled at you with his sweet smile, "a warbler?"

"Yeah, those birds that sing a lot," you recalled.

As you reminisce about your childhood, your mind wanders back to when you were a young girl, growing up in a Witcher school. Life wasn't easy for you, especially since you were a frail child with a mother who struggled to provide for you. Days at school could be long and tiring, and you often find yourself exhausted by the end of them.

One particular memory that stands out to you is the sound of the Warblers that would perch on the window sill of your room. Their melodic songs would echo through the walls, piercing your ears and keeping you awake at night. You would try to drown out the noise by covering your ears with your pillow, but it was no use - the Warblers always seemed to find a way to sing their way into your thoughts. Despite the annoyance they caused, however, you couldn't help but feel a sense of comfort and familiarity in their presence. After all, they had been a constant presence in your life for as long as you could remember.

"They were annoying when I was young," You scoffed playfully, "I hated listening to them sing whenever I wanted some peace. Now that I'm older, I wish they still sang to me," you look at the burning bonfire as the warmth engulfed the front of your body. “I like your songs, jaskier, even if you played the same tune for a week. I won’t get tired of you.”

"Huh…" Jaskier gave your statement some thought, "I've never had anyone think of me that way." He sat over next to the fire, feeling a bit cold.

"Why? May I ask," You cocked a brow at him.

"I'm a bit of an exasperation and––" Before Jaskier could continue, he stopped himself. He could ruin his godly reputation in front of you, and he did not want that.

"A skirt-chaser?" You continued.

"Oh- No, no, not that," you can sense the embarrassment that overcame his confidence.

"right, alright," A mischievous chuckle escaped your lips as you heard the mention of the notorious bard. His reputation preceded him, and you couldn't help but be amused. Word on the street was he had a knack for breaking up marriages or being the third person for sleeping with married men's wives. You won't deny it. Jaskier was handsome and quite the romantic.

The atmosphere was serene as if the world had a standstill. Not a sound except for the gentle rustling of leaves as the wind passed through the trees. "Can you sing me a song, Jaskier?" You asked, "Please?"

As Jaskier continued his endless string of tales, you couldn't help but politely express your reluctance to hear more. In response, Jaskier flashed a sweet smile and said, "Yes, you may, Y/n."

One day, Jaskier won't be around you. One day, you won't ever see him again, and it will be just you and Melorax on the lonely road. It could happen tomorrow, or it could be years from now. You tried not to dwell on that possibility, but it was always there lingering at the edges of your consciousness. But that did not matter now. It was a love that grew deep inside you that you have never felt. It's a companionship that was a strange yet familiar feeling. One day, he will see you as a monster like everyone else did when they saw you. Despite this, You listened intently to his stories and musings, even when they seemed nonsensical or meandering. You laughed at his jokes and marveled at his wit. You knew these moments were precious, and you never took them for granted because you will never know when that moment will end.

A/n: hey guys :) I apologize if my interpretation of Jaskier and the Witcher universe had errors. I was busy with school to read the books and watch the show for extra context and accuracy and did this all by itself. Overall, im unite happy with how this turned out.

[thedemonofcat]

While trying to put himself back together after the mountain, Jaskier meets an older troubadour named Dandelion.

The man is arrogant, dresses garishly, and has the voice of an angel. They get along immensely once Jaskier gets over the goatee reminding him of Valdo.

Dandelion seems especially interested in Jaskier’s relationship with Geralt, and he becomes furious on the younger bard’s behalf when all of the details are relayed.

Then, in comes a witcher who is altogether familiar yet strange.

“Geralt!” Dandelion cries upon seeing the witcher.

And then the pair are kissing. With tongue.

“We have to go.” Other Geralt says. “We shouldn’t interfere with this world more than we have.”

“But, love, I found a younger, less talented version of me!”

That’s when Other Geralt truly looks at Jaskier for the first time, gives him a once over, and purrs, “I’m sure we can make time to properly say goodbye to the little flower.”

Oh my.

“Yes, but before that, we must talk to his Geralt!”

Other Geralt’s expression gets darker and darker as Dandelion dramatically relays Jaskier’s situation.

“Let me get this straight,” Jaskier said, pointing between Dandelion and the other Geralt. “You’re me, from another world,” he clarified, receiving a confirming nod from both. “And the two of you are... lovers.”

When they nodded again, Jaskier suddenly felt the room tilt as the weight of it all crashed down on him. The world went dark.

“Shit, he fainted,” Geralt muttered, catching Jaskier just before he hit the floor.

“Maybe we could’ve broken it to him a bit more gently,” Dandelion suggested, peering down at his unconscious counterpart. “But look at him. Aren’t I just the cutest?”

“Yes, you’re very adorable, my love,” Geralt replied, his tone laced with a resigned fondness. He knew he’d never hear the end of it if he disagreed. “But we should probably find a place to leave him before we head back home.”

Dandelion pouted playfully. “But Geralt, don’t you think we should help these two get together first? A little nudge in the right direction?”

“We’ll leave a note for the other Geralt,” Geralt replied firmly. He knew where this was going.

“But—”

“No ‘but.’ Don’t give me that look,” Geralt warned as Dandelion’s pout deepened. “We’re going home.”

[two-white-butterflies]

mob wife | d. targaryen

Description: Daemon comes home covered in blood. In which, you realize the kind of life you decided to enter isn't exactly kind.

(mafia au)

Rating: Teen

Author's Note: GIF for now since Canva hates me.

A small breath exits his mouth before collapsing in front of you.

"Daemon," you whisper, kneeling down beside him. He was wise enough to lose consciousness inside the house. His eyelids flutter, a humorous chuckle escapes his lips. "Not mine, I promise." he wiped the blood off his chest, spreading it on the floor.

He vowed to protect you - to never allow harm to befall his wife and daughters - he'd be damned if he let that promise slip.

"The Hightower's men, they tried to fucking ambush us in our own home." he cursed, staring deep into your eyes and letting the moment remain. There will be time to clean - but right now, his only intention was to tell you everything he knew.

"The fucking cook. The fucking cook." he repeated while unloading his gun. "Did you take care of him?" you inquire, wiping the crimson stain away from his platinum locks. "I did more than that," he joked, holding onto your shoulders while he stood up.

"Let's get you cleaned," you breathed, dusting your knees and following after him up the stairs.

Your husband and his group called themselves the 'Dragons' - reminiscent of his family's banners in the olden days. It was said that the Targaryens commanded dragons and ruled the world with an iron fist - looking at your husband, it wasn't hard to believe that.

"Do you have any idea how hard it is to get blood of white shirts?" you raise an eyebrow, scrubbing his chest with a pink loofa. "Have the maids clean it." he replied, closing his eyes and allowing your hands to provide him with the sensations that he craved.

"- but I like washing your clothes." you hummed, smiling as his eyes opened to meet yours. He raised his hand - cupping your cheeks. "I did this so those pretty little hands of yours never touch laundry again. You are too dutiful," he mumbled - in disbelief that you were married to him. "And you are too hard-headed," you answer, reaching down to drain the bath then refill it again.

Daemon was handsome and smart - an interesting paradox of a human being. He was the perfect mixture of dangerous and dedicated - and the most important thing is; he was yours.

Yours to command.

Yours to take, and yours to obey.

There was silence between the both of you - and in spite of the smile on your lips, he knew that you were unhappy. "We'll get out of this life, I promise." he comforted, feelings your hands on his back. "You're right, this isn't the kind of life that Baela and Rhaena should have." he mumbled, waiting for a reply.

You continued rubbing the blood off his fingers.

Silence was a better answer.

"Once I get rid of the Hightowers - we'll follow Rhaenyra to America. We'll build a life for ourselves. Far away from this." he promised, pressing a kiss on your bare shoulder. "And we'll buy you a house, eh?" he smiled.

"I just wish that I never worry about your safety - never think about whether or not you're dead." you confess, eyes narrowing at stains underneath his fingernails.

"Let me worry about dying, but right now you're the boss' fucking wife - you have to own it." he cursed.

He paints a small smile on your face.

@watercolorskyy @bellastwd @fan-goddess @nyctophilic0vitnir @pearlstiare @areaderinlove @hc-geralt-23 @rozendiors

[fairytales-and-folklore]

Teen Wolf Fanfiction Masterlist

A collection of Teen Wolf fan fiction written by yours truly. Fics are listed in order from newest to oldest.

✨ main fanfiction masterlist ✨

In Vodka Veritas (AO3 | Tumblr)

AO3 Rating: Teen & Up | Relationship: Derek Hale x Stiles Stilinski | Summary: It's 3AM and Stiles and Derek are drunk off their asses, arguing over who's winning at Mario Kart. What a hell of a time to blurt out I love you to your long-standing crush for the very first time. Too bad neither of them actually remember saying anything…until they wake the next morning, cuddled up in each other's arms.

Maximum Suction (AO3 | Tumblr)

AO3 Rating: Teen & Up | Relationship: Derek Hale x Stiles Stilinski | Summary: Comparing your oral skills to the highest setting on your boyfriend's vacuum cleaner is certainly an interesting way to announce to your entire group of friends that you're secretly dating.

Toss A Coin To Your Alpha (AO3 | Tumblr)

AO3 Rating: Teen & Up | Relationship: Derek Hale x Stiles Stilinski | Summary: Stiles walks through the forest, high on post-battle adrenaline, having a grand old time strumming his stolen lute in a series of tragically out-of-tune powder chords, belting out parody lyrics to a familiar melody Derek recognizes from a tv show he recently watched, replacing all instances of Geralt with Derek and white wolf with sourwolf.

Hearts Like Wildflowers (AO3 | Tumblr)

AO3 Rating: Mature | Relationship: Derek Hale x Stiles Stilinski | Summary: Stiles used to love getting lost in the woods — used to revel in it, in the days when he chased after twisted fairy tales of little red falling for the big bad wolf, where the prospect of getting pressed up against a tree by a man nearly twice his size sent a frisson of excitement down his spine, where glowing red eyes lurking in the distance meant safety — and he's not about to let some stupid fucking tree take that away from him.

Mint Condition (AO3 | Tumblr)

AO3 Rating: Teen & Up | Relationship: Derek Hale x Stiles Stilinski | Summary: Derek just wants to relax after spending the day playing Mall Santa, but his boyfriend has other ideas. 'Tis the season for a naughty holiday-themed strip tease featuring some of the worst Christmas puns and innuendos you've ever heard.

Slow Burn (AO3 | Tumblr)

AO3 Rating: Teen & Up | Relationship: Derek Hale x Stiles Stilinski | Summary: According to the stories Derek's mother used to tell him as she tucked him into bed and kissed him goodnight, when you meet your soulmate, and they fall in love with you, a heart-shaped mark will appear across your chest, right over your own beating heart, and then you'll know, without a shadow of a doubt, that you've found the right one.

Spooky Scary Sourwolf (AO3 | Tumblr)

AO3 Rating: Teen & Up | Relationship: Derek Hale x Stiles Stilinski | Summary: It's October, which means Stiles is officially 80% more annoying than he normally is at any other time of the year. This Halloween, Stiles's new obsession is some dance party remix of the song Spooky Scary Skeletons. It's a catchy tune, even Derek will admit that. But after hearing it blasted through Roscoe's shitty speakers for the hundredth time that week, everyone in the pack is sick to death of it, especially Derek. He's got no choice but to resort to drastic measures.

Jump Scare (AO3 | Tumblr)

AO3 Rating: Teen & Up | Relationship: Derek Hale x Stiles Stilinski | Summary: Stiles and Derek stay up all night together playing a scary video game, shrieking with laughter and clutching each other every time there's a jump scare.

Folie À Deux (AO3 | Tumblr)

AO3 Rating: Teen & Up | Relationship: Derek Hale x Stiles Stilinski | Summary: Stiles and Derek fall through a portal and get lost in the world of Little Nightmares, running from all manner of monsters as they try to find their way back home.

Some Things Should Really Just Stay In The Vault (AO3 | Tumblr)

AO3 Rating: Teen & Up | Relationship: Derek Hale x Stiles Stilinski | Summary: "Stiles, you are not breaking into the secret Disney porn vault," Derek heaves a long-suffering sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose and rolling his eyes so hard he nearly gives himself a migraine. "That's not a sentence I ever thought I'd have to say, but here we are. This is my life now."

Error 404: Brain Cell Not Found (AO3 | Tumblr)

AO3 Rating: Teen & Up | Relationship: Derek Hale x Stiles Stilinski | Summary: He means to send the photo to Scott. Really, he does. But it's barely 9AM and he hasn't had coffee yet so his brain isn't exactly firing on all cylinders, single brain cell chanting an endless chorus of Derek Derek Derek. Which is how he ends up accidentally sending the photo he'd just taken to Derek instead, along with the lovely accompanying caption: seriously scotty, just look at him, I think I'm in love.

He May Not Be Drunk, But He Sure As Hell Is Thirsty (AO3 | Tumblr)

AO3 Rating: Teen & Up | Relationship: Derek Hale x Stiles Stilinski | Summary: Stiles is very supportive of Derek's acting career — among other things — and is determined to let him know through a series of (slightly tipsy) thirsty texts.

Since When Do GQ Models Deliver Pizza? (AO3 | Tumblr)

AO3 Rating: Teen & Up | Relationship: Derek Hale x Stiles Stilinski | Summary: Disaster flirt Stiles Stilinski makes the world's worst first, second, and third impression in front of his crush, Derek The Hot Pizza Delivery Guy.

Sugar and Tea and Rum (AO3 | Tumblr)

AO3 Rating: Teen & Up | Relationship: Derek Hale x Stiles Stilinski | Summary: Stiles discovers that Derek harbors a secret love of sea shanties and keeps turning every lyric into a sexual innuendo. But soon enough, he's just as into them, the two of them spending a scenic road trip down the coast with the stereo on full blast, singing along with the song Wellerman at the top of their lungs (and making out in the back of Derek's car at every rest stop.)

It's A Love Story, Baby, Just Say Yes (AO3 | Tumblr)

AO3 Rating: Teen & Up | Relationship: Derek Hale x Stiles Stilinski | Summary: For the record, Derek is not stalking Stiles. He's just being protective, standing guard outside his bedroom window every night like the world's okayest watchdog. For the most part, it's relatively uneventful. Until one night, Derek catches Stiles performing a one-man concert to the tune of Taylor Swift's Love Story, with some very interesting lyrical changes.

Champagne Problems (AO3 | Tumblr)

AO3 Rating: Teen & Up | Relationship: Derek Hale x Stiles Stilinski | Summary: Stiles has got champagne problems. No, really. He's had way too many mimosas. A game of tipsy truth or dare at a New Year's Eve pack party ends with Stiles accidentally blurting out that he's in love with Derek…right in front of the sourwolf himself.

Sarcasm Is My Only Defense (AO3 | Tumblr)

AO3 Rating: Teen & Up | Relationship: Derek Hale x Stiles Stilinski | Summary: Stiles and Derek won't stop bicker-flirting as they try to come up with a plan to break into the abandoned bank and rescue Derek's betas from the alpha pack, culminating in a game of cat and mouse (or more accurately: little red and the big bad wolf) when Stiles smacks Derek across the ass with a pair of latex gloves, and Derek chases him out into the hallway and pins him against the wall.

Hey Dad, Derek Hale Is In My Room. Bring Your Gun. (AO3 | Tumblr)

AO3 Rating: Teen & Up | Relationship: Derek Hale x Stiles Stilinski | Summary: Being the Sheriff's kid is hard enough. Having a seemingly over-protective father who's more concerned about your bad influence than your ex-murder-suspect werewolf boyfriend is so much worse.

Invisible String (AO3 | Tumblr)

AO3 Rating: Teen & Up | Relationship: Derek Hale x Stiles Stilinski | Summary: In the aftermath of the nogitsune, Stiles takes up knitting at the suggestion of his therapist, and is surprised to find how much it helps him — and Derek — heal.

What To Do When Your Emotionally Constipated Werewolf Boyfriend Gets Cursed By A Witch: A Guide (AO3 | Tumblr)

AO3 Rating: Teen & Up | Relationship: Derek Hale x Stiles Stilinski | Summary: Derek gets cursed by a coven of witches with an inability to lie and a compulsion to blurt out whatever he's thinking and feeling at any given moment. The ironic thing is, everything he says is incredibly nice, heartfelt, and affectionate, leaving his packmates wondering: who are you and what have you done with our emotionally constipated surly alpha?

My Friend Thinks You're Cute (AO3 | Tumblr)

AO3 Rating: Teen & Up | Relationship: Derek Hale x Stiles Stilinski | Summary: And that's when Stiles sees him, standing in the middle of the crowd, swathed in a black leather jacket, eyes alight as he flashes Stiles the most dazzlingly perfect smile. Derek The Music Major. The guy Stiles has had a massive crush on ever since they shared a class together in Stiles's freshman year. The guy who went on to graduate later that spring and leave town to go on tour with his band. The guy who composed such beautiful music that it made Stiles fall even more stupidly in love with him. The guy who wrote the lyrics to the song he's currently up on stage singing motherfucking karaoke to. So yeah, Stiles is pretty sure he's going to kill his best friends for dragging him along to this party.

Happy Halloween, Sourwolf (AO3 | Tumblr)

AO3 Rating: Teen & Up | Relationship: Derek Hale x Stiles Stilinski | Summary: It's not like Stiles minds spending his favorite holiday handing out candy to the neighborhood kids. After all, he's got his brand new super hot werewolf boyfriend saddled up right next to him, a massive bowl of bite-sized snickers and peanut butter cups nestled on his other side. By all accounts, it should be the perfect evening. Except that it's really, really not, due to the inexcusable fact that his stupid insufferable sourwolf of a boyfriend has spent the better part of the evening growling at all the trick-or-treaters. Turns out, the two of them have very different ideas of how Halloween should be celebrated.

Get Me Out Of My Mind (AO3 | Tumblr)

AO3 Rating: Teen & Up | Relationship: Derek Hale x Stiles Stilinski | Summary: Stiles has an epiphany at a blacklight party. Boys? Yeah, he likes boys…and maybe a certain sourwolf.

Meet Me At My Window (AO3 | Tumblr)

AO3 Rating: Mature | Relationship: Derek Hale x Stiles Stilinski | Summary: Stiles accidentally falls in love with Derek. Derek begrudgingly falls in love with Stiles. Derek has trust issues and an aversion to romantic entanglements. Stiles lacks tact and would very much like to avoid a painful, embarrassing, werewolf-related death. Stiles and Derek end up spending the better part of a year in each other's company, pretending to despise every minute of it. In short: Stiles and Derek are awkward, stubborn, angst-ridden, life-ruining idiots who can't seem to work up the nerve to admit that they're in love.